#they're free from this wretched place

[sergeantkitty]

Y'all, my man Lucifer just likes himself some duckies.

Anyway, feel free to read through my rant of why I think he likes ducks so much. SPOILERS for S1 Ep8 toward the end.

(Click image for better quality.)

So in case you don't know, there's this famous(ish) Christian story called "The Devil and the Duck". I'm gonna try my best to summarize it here.

This boy gets a slingshot as a present and decides to be a little shit and impulsively uses it to shoot his grandma's pet duck. This kills the duck and the boy feels extreme guilt. His stupid bitchass sister reveals that she saw the whole thing and holds the boy's guilt over his head (remember this phrasing for later) and makes him do her chores and stuff for him, using what he did as blackmail and a guilt-trip.

The boy for a while keeps doing his sister's bidding until he cracks under the guilt and exhaustion from all the chores, and in a break down he apologizes to his grandma, admitting what he did to the duck. The grandma then reveals that she saw what happened from a nearby window, and although she was deeply hurt by what the boy did, she still forgave him immediately. She says that she'll always love the boy since he's her grandson and that seeing his immediate regret was enough for her. She was just waiting for him to admit it, apologize, and stop letting his sister manipulate him.

In the story the boy represents humanity/any person, the sister represents the devil, and the grandma represents God/Jesus. The boy commits a horrific sin and feels immense guilt over it and the sister/devil holds the sin over his head and tries to convince him to do her bidding since the sin was so great that there's no way that grandma/God could forgive him. The lesson of the story's pretty obvious from there: don't let the devil guilt you with your sins into giving up and turning against God since God sees all your sins and faults and still loves you and forgives you anyway, so long as you apologize and repent for your sin against him.

I think Lucifer as we see him in Hazbin Hotel is placing himself both as the devil (obviously) but also the boy in the story. He's clearly interpreted more as a sympathetic, guilt-ridden figure. He surrounds himself with memorabilia of his greatest regret: the downfall of man (hence the apples and snakes.) Now keep in mind that I've highlighted the phrasing of "holding over [one's] head", well that's because that's the specific phrasing used in the story. Now look at Lucifer's hat. It has the snake and apple. Lucifer is LITERALLY holding his greatest sin over his own head and has given up on his dreams and happiness in favor of doing the bidding of his own personal devil: his depression. He's let himself whither away in isolation and gave up on trying to be a proper king for the people he granted free will to since in his mind they're all wretched sinners abusing that gift. All he sees is the bad side of humanity.

I think to him the duck symbolizes the dreamer still inside him, that bit of hope left in him, that hope that even though he's the cause of evil in humanity he'll still one day be forgiven and maybe even be let back into heaven. We see heavenly figures like Sera and Emily feeling clear sympathy for him in S1 Ep6. They don't hate him, they just fear earning the same fate. Even going into S1 Ep8 we see him decide to stop letting his depression rule over him and help Charlie redeem sinners. He's working to, in some way, repent for his greatest sin because, thanks to Charlie, he's seeing the good in humanity again.

Do I have any way of knowing if this is even REMOTELY accurate? ...No... but I like the thought of this being the reason behind Lucifer's duck hyperfixation, and I haven't seen anyone talk about this or bring this possibility up. Anyways, thanks for reading my little rant :3

[creation-help]

A special kind of intimacy between characters

[Not restricted to romantic dynamics!]

- I tear bread into smaller pieces to feed them to you, as if I am Jesus, or a mother bird. You may view me as a savior but I would kill for you

- Being there for the other person when they're sick - In a gross, disgusting way. Holding them unwaveringly through the wretched and repulsive, unflinchingly. Don't apologise, just survive. I'd do it again.

- You're scary, but I'm scarier. You don't know that yet, but I hope you won't fear me when you do.

- You're scary, and thank God for that. I'm more than happy to close my eyes when you use it on others. I am a coward.

- One character knowing exactly what the other one would really like to ask for, but is too self conscious or selfless to. Thus, they do it and provide, without the other person needing to outright request it. The self conscious character always makes sure the other one knows it's not obligated and they're always free to decline, and the other one nods firmly, knowing that, and still doing it.

- Sitting next to each other at the end of the world. Because it won't be okay. But they've accepted that

- "You destroyed the thing I love and I can't forgive you for it." "I can't forgive myself either." "I still can't hate you despite that." "I can."

- "Please hate me" "No."

- One character understanding when the other is in too low of a state to act like a decent person currently, and so they don't step over those lines that they'd normally tolerate. The first character holds the other one responsible for things later nonetheless, when they're able to actually carry it

- Two characters sharing the negative perceptions and opinions they've had of each other over the years. This can either lead to a realization that, respectfully, out of deep understanding of each other, they decide to not stay in touch with each other again from now on. Or, it can lead to a realization that thanks to this understanding they now have, they're more ready to become closer and have managed to clear the air with this conversation

- Characters of notably different ages talk and reflect on time that has passed between them. They feel a connection over how different their circumstances were. The younger one audibly wishes they could've done or changed something significant, to which the older character pointedly and gently tells them it wasn't their place to. Let us old crooks handle the tough things. (It wasn't your fault you spent formative years like this. I'm sorry you had to)

[rottenpumpkin13]

ASGZC (is there an order it’s supposed to go in??) playing monopoly.

who wins?

who flips the table??

Things That Happen During Monopoly

• Angeal is elected the banker at the start of the game because he's the most responsible. Angeal then proceeds to miscount the money and acquiring an incomprehensible wealth that he refuses to part with.

Angeal: I never miscount money. I'm excellent at math. This distribution is as fair as it could be.

Cloud: I literally only have $1.

Angeal: Your poverty isn't my problem.

• Genesis has rolled "Go to jail" every turn so far and the board is looking very flippable. Sephiroth finds his misery hilarious.

• Sephiroth doesn't believe in paying rent.

Zack: Sephiroth, this isn't fair! You're using my property, you have to pay the fee!

Sephiroth: By charging me money for a place to live, you're perpetuating the cycle of wealth inequality and profiting off of my misfortune. It's a wretched world we live in, where those with wealth continue to accumulate more while the poor struggle to get by on their honest salaries.

Zack: IT'S MONOPOLY MONEY.

• Someone lost the dog token so Angeal spends 10 minutes ranting about how they're all irresponsible, failing to notice that Sephiroth has it on top of his little house.

• Angeal bankrupts Genesis, who spends the next 8 minutes cursing Angeal's bloodline and threatening to sue him IRL.

• Genesis lands in jail again. He is unfortunately broke, so he has to stay in jail.

Genesis: I don't understand! Where are all the get out of jail free cards??

Sephiroth: I wouldn't know.

• Sephiroth is hoarding them all in the pockets of his coat.

• Zack is hoarding houses so no one else can buy them.

• Cloud is watching Angeal actively steal money from the bank, but no one is doing anything because Genesis is looking for the get out of jail cards and Zack and Sephiroth are having a bidding war that's starting to sound more like an argument.

• Genesis sees a get out of jail card fall from Sephiroth's pocket.

• Genesis flips the board.

• Game over.

[peachyloveswriting]

I am sorry... But Knives with a reader who also can play piano! I just imagine them playing together how he used to play with Vash... This idea lives rent free in my head now.

Btw! I LOVE YOUR WRITING!!! 💓💓💓💓💓

Ugh! I got a really good idea with this one out of my own hopeless romantic self. This was very self indulgent but I hope that it's to your liking.

Needing Love --- Millions Knives

SUMMARY: You find yourself longing for the touch of another, someone to take your lonely soul and bring you the comfort of being loved. Knives brings you this offer.

Late into the night, you find yourself waking from your bed unrestful, your heart aching. You're not sure why or what caused this ache to start spreading inside your chest but it calls to you. Pulling the blanket from your body you wrap it around your shoulders, tying it back like a cape. They're stark white, Naï seems to favor this color in anything, it suits him.

Swinging your legs over the bed you raise to your feet, the cold floor makes you shudder, it's utterly silent. Everyone would be home by now, asleep, or in Naï's case busy with something else. Hopefully he won't hear you meddling with his piano, that's your goal. You've played since a young age, it's a passion that you cling to dearly in this new life of yours. Naï has a passion for it as well, he plays in your company often, composing beautiful pieces that tug at your emotions. This time you stride towards the bench, blanket swaying behind you like an elegant cape. Splaying it over the back, you settle down and pull up the key cover.

Tonight, a saddening tune pulls at your hands, it raises your fingers to the keys and burns in your chest. Swallowing thickly, you press down the first keys. They bellow out into the spacious room, daring to be heard by those who stay near, crying to be noticed. It's slow starting, your hands almost scared to truly portray the ache in your heart and the longing in your soul. A longing that begs to be held by another, one that cries to feel the arms of another cradling you, to be loved whole. It carries out the keys, fading the room around you from existence as you play. It's nothing but you and your aching music.

Naï hears the first key strike, he falls quiet, waiting to hear the noise again. What follows is clearly from his piano. It's solemn and sad, the keys as the belt into the open air and through the walls. Curious to find his phantom player, he pushes open the door of the lab and makes his way to the piano room. The keys are much louder from here and just across the way he can see his open bedroom door, you must have ventured out not too long ago.

Grabbing the handle he pushes open the door and steps in unheard, he can see you sitting at the piano, the blanket from his bed draped over your shoulders and over the beck of the bench. Your hands are dancing along the keys, moving elegantly and seamlessly. From the songs he learned and the ones he's made, this is clearly not either. It's the first time he's ever heard something as soul wretching as this. Despite such a sad song, a smile creeps onto his face, Naï feels proud knowing he picked a human who could play Piano. He never knew you could until now but it makes his heart sing.

Stepping forward into the room silently, he gently places a hand upon your shoulder, you jump under the sudden touch. The keys abruptly stop before the carry on through Naï's hands. Your heart pounds in your chest as you watch him play with a fond look in his eyes, you expected him to rip you away, yell at you. Instead he calmly took a seat by your side and carried on where you left off. You watch him, frozen in awe, it was impressive that he could play what you made on the spot by ear. He elbowed you, his eyes gesturing to the piano, like he was asking you to keep playing. Heat fills your cheeks as you cast your gaze back on the piano, placing your hands delicately and begin to play.

Naï plays your former piece on the lower notes while you tie together a higher set of notes that recalls the pain of hopeless romanticism. The melody dances along your skin, seeping its way into your heart before Naï's hands begin crossing yours to press keys. He doesn't disrupt the flow, he simply moves around you and back before getting in the way.

The warmth by your side melts away the aching sadness that had built up in your chest, a faint smile tugs at your lips and the song takes a turn. The warmth begins to play into the keys, your show on likeness for Naï really pushing the idea of hopeless romanticism out the way. Even though you know he'll never hold you the you hope, or do the things you want to do as a couple, you know that he cares.

When the song came to an end you weren't quite sure what to say for yourself but Naï beat you to it. "That was beautiful, I had no idea you could play." His hand finds yours, gently intertwining your fingers. "Why so sad at the start?" His brows knit tightly together with worry and he leans forward to get a better look at your face. This was certainly a side of Naï that you've yet to see.

You lower your haze to his hand in yours. "I was sad and I couldn't sleep." With his other hand, he presses a finger underneath your chin to lift your head. "Why were you sad?"

He never seemed to care before, this was definitely a start. "Can I be honest?" You finally look him in the eyes, he nods. You find yourself at a loss for words, only a moment ago your feelings were splayed out for anyone close by to hear, portrayed perfectly. Now you don't know where to begin.

"I just... Feel like I'm not getting the love that I need. You know. At night I think about the ways I wish I was held, the things I want to hear, and the way I want to be loved and I know that it's just not possible. No one can cater to all your needs, no, but I just want to feel love. I'd feel selfish asking anyone for that but I want it so bad." The ache in your chest begins to rise and you can feel the neglect settling in again, you hate this feeling, the longing for a warmth you've yet to receive.

Naï suddenly stands from the bench and tugs you with him, he towers over you in height, his bright blue eyes captivating you instantly. If angels were real he'll fit the description, from the fair skin to the bright blonde hair. Even down to the way his hand slides against the small of your back, pressing your body flush against his. He's unrealistically warm against you, an extra factor to his nonhuman traits.

His voice is low and soft. "Is this how you wanted to be held?"

Your heart flutters and your face flushes. He's staring at you so intently as he waits for an answer, you're almost unable to open your mouth and form an appropriate response.

"Yes. It is." The corners of his lips twitch up into an endearing smile. "Good. I intend to show you that as a plant, romantically, I can do so much more for you than any human." His words are genuine, as he takes your hand in his again, leading you from the piano room and back to his room. "Allow me to fulfill what you've been craving, you'll find that I satisfy your every need my flower."

[shiny-jr]

Have you ever thought of the imposter au with the staff of raven College? I could just imagine Crewel being the reason the reader is summoned to twst while not fulling knowing it (Probably coming in at the end to safe then after realize shits going down). That and maybe Crowley and Vargas going full mad dog and just chasing the reader like crazy. Maybe Trein tripping over his cat while chasing and reader/imposter feeling bad about it. Along with Sam using shadow creature to track the imposter down. Just a fun ideas I've been having, feel free to ignore.

I have thought about it before. I believe I even once mentioned that I would make a separate post for it eventually. Recently been thinking about platonic yan staff, so like fatherly type stuff for those of you with daddy issues.

Platonic yan Crowley! Wants to be your father figure so bad. Why won't you let him take you under his wing? You'd be his little fledgling! Ah, he must do his best to protect you! He is the headmaster of a prestigious school with unfortunately many arrogant troublesome students. Often he'll dramatically lament, inquiring why you don't wish to spend time with your dear old father? When you reply with a deadpan, "You're not my dad, Crowley." He'll break out into a melodramatic wail, oh woe is him that his own child does not wish to partake in any activities with him! Ah–– a way home, you ask? Well, during one of his many hours long searches in the library to find you a way home, something he adamantly assures you he's been doing, he had the most profound idea which he shall so graciously share with you! Why not stay in Twisted Wonderland and allow him to formally adopt you? Then you shall be his child and he will be sure to provide you with all the love and care you need! Isn't he a genius with such boundless benevolence?

Platonic yan Divus! Probably believes the whole world is out to get you. You poor little thing, far from home, lost and afraid, with no where else to go. Eventually he'll begin to doubt that Crowley is taking proper care of you, and deem his efforts as inadequate. Look at this wretched place, an old dorm filled with cobwebs and ghosts is supposed to be your home? An old oversized uniform and a handful of cheap worn clothes from the shop are all you have to wear? And your classmates, his own students, oh he knows what they're like. A bunch of ruthless mischief making pups! This is unacceptable! Divus will spoil you like his own. He has a soft spot for you, so when he's improving your conditions and getting rid of the old dirtied items, you hold up that feral monster cat and go, "Can I at least keep Grim? Please?" Ah, the puppy eyes. How could he say no to you? But that cat is getting a bath first. Oh, and he's incredibly wary of all the students. In his eyes, none of them are good enough to be your friends, and he's beginning to suspect all of them of trying to take advantage of you. Listen here, darling, you are not to trust any other men besides himself, are we clear?

Platonic yan Vargas! Oh god, not another one. Somehow, he's worse than the other two dads you've acquired. Especially because he thinks your escape attempts are some sort of crazy athletic training regimen. He's come to think of your monthly escape attempts as survival training, so not only is he enjoying himself but he's more than capable of keeping up and capturing you. Then dragging you back to NRC with a proud grin, boasting about how you got so much further than last time! "Let me go! Let go of me!" That's the spirit, he cheers. Seems like you're raring to train again, but now's the time regain your energy for next month! Eagerly tells you stories about his youth, how he was the strongest and most popular! He really wants you to look up to him, and he likes to think he's your favorite dad. Especially when it comes to Crewel, let's say they have differing opinions on how to properly care for you. While his counterpart prefers to pamper you, Vargas believes you need more activity and excitement in your life! Wouldn't you agree with him? Come on, give him a smile now!

Platonic yan Trein! The only real dad on the list. He has two sons that are already full adults now, and he believes you'd get along wonderfully with them. You would be their new younger sibling. "That's kinda... dumb. I'm not their sibling though." You comment, as he responds, it is not foolish to want all three of his children to get along. It's a bit annoying that you can never really get on his nerves, despite him being notoriously strict and a little intimidating with his stoic look. But like most of the dads on this list, he too has a weak spot for you. He still expects you to be a well-behaved though. No matter what you're like, he can handle it. After all, he's been a professor at NRC for so long, that he's seen and taken care of countless students. If you're looking for quiet time, he's probably the best to be with by far. He'll let his feline familiar Lucius sit on your lap as he serves you a platter of cookies with a hot beverage. When you do try to get on his nerves for whatever reason, it never works, so you end up plopping down beside him on the couch in defeat, angrily opening a magazine as he calmly continues to read a book. Now that the opportunity has present itself, he'd like to have a word with you. You should know that you are his pride and joy. That being said, should any of his students be pestering you, inform him immediately and he'll handle it promptly.

Platonic yan Sam! Most likely the best one to be with. It doesn't even feel like he's trying to be your dad, he's more like a cool but still concerning weird uncle. But if you had to classify him as a dad, he'd be the chill one. Although it is scary that he seems to know way more about you than you ever told him about. You suspect it has something to do with his friends on the other side. Whenever you're not with him, you have spied an oddly moving shadow or two... But the upside about that is, he always seems to know what you want. If it's small, he'll offer it for free. If it's a bigger item, he'll let you have it if you work the shop with him for a few hours. What's say you, huh? Sound like a deal? He'll entertain you a trick or two while you're here! Sam likes to call you his little good luck charm, because you tend to bring in more customers and just put him in a good mood. He choses to trust you, more than the other dads, probably because he knows you can't escape because he's always watching you somehow. You go on ahead, just be back by dark, you hear? He wouldn't want to send his friends to force you back home if you stay out late, m'kay?

[sengardet]

Veronica's Downfall: Chapter 2

Veronica's eyes fluttered open and a gasp choked in her throat as an icy hand pressed against her chest. The tall, slender blonde witch loomed over her, pale green eyes alight with malice. An intense, biting cold radiated from the witch's hand, spreading through Veronica's flesh and seeping into her chest. She could feel her heart slowing, struggling against the frozen grip tightening around it.

"Look who's finally awake," purred a voice beside her. Veronica's eyes darted to see the petite, auburn-haired witch crouched at her side, a vicious smirk on her lips. "We're just getting started with you, warrior."

Niera waved a hand and Veronica felt something slithering against her skin. Glancing down, she watched in horror as fleshy pink tendrils sprouted from the floorboards, writhing and probing against her chest. Then they plunged into her flesh, burrowing through muscle and bone with a sick squelch. Veronica arched and cried out as the intrusion sent shockwaves of agony through her body. The tendrils coiled around her cold struggling heart and began to squeeze.

The two witches watched with sadistic glee as Veronica thrashed weakly against her bonds, her powerful heart squirming and faltering in their grasp. "Such a strong, stubborn heart," Olia mused, her freezing touch unrelenting. "But in the end, even the mightiest warrior must submit."

"GET AWAY FROM HER!"

The door burst open and a furious Yanil stormed in, brown hair flying around her face. She shoved her sisters aside and straddled Veronica's limp body. "This one is MINE. Her heart belongs to ME."

Yanil seized the tendril pulsing from Veronica's chest and sent a jolt of electricity through it. Veronica convulsed, back bowing off the table as the shock kickstarted her cold, dying heart. The tendril recoiled and slithered out of her as Yanil released it.

"Are you mad?" Olia snapped, rising to her feet. "The warrior scum from that kingdom are dangerous! They must be slain."

Olia's cold green eyes turned to Veronica. "The warriors from that wretched kingdom must die. They are our enemies."

Yanil wrapped her slender arms around Veronica's muscular frame, pressing her ear against the warrior's chest. Veronica's adrenaline-fueled recovering heart thudded strong and steady beneath pale skin.

"But I have such trouble sleeping," Yanil pouted playfully. "Nothing relaxes me like the powerful heartbeat of a captive warrior woman. As long as they're bound, why not keep a few as pets?" She nuzzled into Veronica's neck.

Niera scowled as she shook her head. "Their entire people deserve to be wiped out. Rip out this one's valorous heart and mount it as a trophy! Such a strong heart would be a prize."

"Plenty of other hearts to claim later," Yanil mumbled drowsily. The electric witch's body softened against Veronica as the rhythm of her pulse lulled Yanil toward sleep.

Olia and Niera exchanged disgusted glances at Yanil cuddling their prisoner like a body pillow. Despite the witch's cruelty and sadism, Veronica felt a twinge of pity. In this vulnerable moment, Yanil seemed more like a needy girl desperately clinging to a source of comfort.

"Fine, keep your pet for now," Olia said coldly. "But kill her within a day's time. We're leaving this place." The witches vanished in a swirl of icy mist and shadowy tendrils, leaving Veronica alone with her captor nestled against her chest, lost in fevered dreams.

Later...

Yanil's tears glistened in the moonlight as she led Veronica to the forest's edge. Her hands trembled slightly as she untied the warrior woman's bindings.

"My sisters would kill you, ruin this beauty," Yanil whispered, gazing at Veronica's athletic curves. "I won't let them, even if that means setting you free, my cute little pet." Yanil said with quivering in her voice.

Veronica eyed her captor warily, muscles tensed and ready to sprint at the first opportunity. The electric witch's unexpected mercy caught her off guard.

In a sudden move, Yanil pulled Veronica close and captured her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. For a moment, Veronica found herself kissing back, figuring it was the least she could do to thank the witch for her release.

Breaking the kiss, Yanil smiled sweetly, a blush coloring her pale cheeks. "Go now, my fierce little warrior. Be free."

Veronica almost pitied the strange girl. Almost. With a final nod, the blonde spun on her heel and took off running, eager to put as much distance as possible between herself and the unhinged witch. Her lean legs carried her swiftly toward the river.

The thrum of magic suddenly filled the air, chasing at Veronica's heels as she crashed through the underbrush. Frozen earth erupted under her boots. Shadowy tendrils grasped at her limbs. The other witches were hunting her now.

Heart pounding, Veronica leapt over obstacles and zigzagged through the trees. The rush of the river grew louder. If she could just reach the water...

Veronica burst from the tree line onto the riverbank. Her momentum carried her downstream, water splashing beneath her strides. Then the ground dropped away - she had reached a waterfall.

No choice. Sucking in a deep breath, the warrior woman dove forward, plummeting down into the churning basin below with a mighty splash. The icy water shocked her senses. She kicked for the surface, hoping the current would carry her far from the witches' grasp.

Veronica thrashed in the churning water, fighting to reach the surface. The depths pulled her down, tossing her lean body like a rag doll. Icy water rushed into her mouth as she gasped for breath that would not come.

Her warrior's instinct screamed at her to fight, to survive. But the more she struggled, the weaker she became. Her chest tightened like a vise, starved for air. Panicked thoughts raced through her mind.

Veronica's heart pounded frantically, seeming to echo in her waterlogged ears as it did nothing but drain what oxygen she had left. That vital muscle hammered against her ribcage, the only part of her that still moved with purpose as the rest of her body went slack.

Precious bubbles of air escaped her lips and floated upward, abandoning her to the depths. Veronica reached out one last time, pale fingers straining for a surface that remained hopelessly out of reach.

Then a terrible calm settled over her. She was out of time. Out of strength. Out of breath. With a final desperate gasp, icy water rushed into her mouth and filled her lungs. The shock of it made her convulse.

Darkness crept in at the edges of her vision. As her pulse faded and her body surrendered

As the turbulent undercurrent carried her deeper, she knew this would be her end…

Later...

Tanera hummed softly as she hung the laundry on the line, her round hips swaying. Suddenly, a flash of pale skin in the river caught her eye. A woman's naked body drifted face-down in the current, long blonde hair trailing behind her.

"Oh blessed heaven!" Tanera gasped. She hiked up her skirts and ran for the riverbank, fingers frantically working the laces of her bodice. The rocks would snag her dress, but she had to risk it. This woman needed her.

Fabric ripping, Tanera wriggled free and dove into the chilly waters wearing only her chemise. The current pulled at her as she kicked toward the body, soft flesh pressing against submerged stones. "Please don't be dead," she prayed, finally reaching the woman and rolling her over.

It was Veronica, the fierce lady knight! Awe suffused Tanera as she towed the warrior to shore, struggling under the weight of solid muscle. She dragged Veronica onto the grassy bank and knelt beside her still form, hands hovering uncertainly.

Even with blue lips and skin like marble, Veronica was breathtaking - Golden hair fanned around her head like a halo. Tanera trailed a finger down the knight's sternum.

She straddled Veronica's hips, the wet fabric of her undergarments riding up plump thighs. Lacing her fingers over the woman's heart, Tanera began compressions, quietly pumping that mighty heart.

"Come back to me, my lady. Open your eyes..."

Tanera pressed her palms against Veronica's glistening chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath yield to her touch. Even lying prone and unresponsive, Veronica smaller frame felt dense and strong. Tanera marveled at Veronica's toned physique - the ridges of her abdomen, the curve of muscle in her arms. Veronica's pale skin was flushed a soft lilac, slick with water. Tanera's own face grew hot as she rhythmically compressed the other woman's ribcage. There was an intimacy to it, a closeness, as if she were massaging Veronica's very essence through the layers of skin and bone.

Tanera slammed her fist against Veronica's still chest, then sealed her lips over Veronica's and inflated her lungs. Desperation urged her. Breaking the kiss, Tanera positioned her hands and used her full weight to drive deep compressions into Veronica's chest. She could feel the warrior's ribs flexing beneath her palms with each powerful thrust.

"Breathe, Veronica! Come back to me," Tanera panted, sweat beading on her brow from the exertion. Her arms ached but she didn't dare stop the furious pace of compressions.

Tanera kept up the steady pumping, never breaking her focus or slowing her pace, even as her arms began to fatigue. She could see Veronica's jugular veins standing out against her neck, the blood being forced from her stilled heart out to sustain her body and mind. "Come on, come back to me," Tanera urged in gentle desperation. "You're too strong to let go like this."

She thumped a fist against Veronica's sternum again, trying to jolt the stubborn organ into action. At last, as she sat still she felt a tremor beneath her palm, a tentative lurch as the warrior's heart struggled to regain its rhythm. Tanera's own pulse quickened with wild hope. "That's it, fight! I'm right here with you."

Tanera patted Veronica's back as the woman coughed up water, then laid her back down. She slid down and pressed her plump body against Veronica, feeling the warrior's lean muscles beneath her. She gently laid her head on Veronica's chest, her cheek resting against the pale skin. Beneath Tanera's ear, Veronica's heart thumped steadily, the vibrant beat pulsing against her face. Tanera smiled to herself, finding the sensation utterly endearing.

Veronica's fingers suddenly laced through Tanera's fiery red curls. The peasant girl let out a small gasp of surprise at the intimate touch.

"Thank you," Veronica murmured, her voice uncharacteristically soft. The simple words of gratitude made Tanera's own heart race and kick into the knight’s body. She had dreamed of being in the arms of a knight like Veronica, but never thought it would be like this.

Tanera nuzzled her face against Veronica's chest, breathing in her scent "I only wished to help you, my lady" Tanera replied quietly, her tone reverent. "You needn't thank me."

[atzfilm]

— 『 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋; 𝐨𝐭8 』 [teaser]

— 𝚠𝚘𝚗 • 𝚍𝚎𝚛 • 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕, adjective. having someone who serves as a pillar in your life, who offers a sturdy place to lean in times of trouble. somebody you find yourself thinking about constantly and are completely infatuated with.

❝humans were such strange creatures. wretched in their mere existence. none of the eight were ever truly interested in them until they found you. they just find it strange that despite their status and rank, you'd rather spend time with your lover. that isn't much of a problem, though. one they can fix with ease.❞

〘ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ, ᴍʏᴛʜ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜰᴀᴇʀɪᴇꜱ〙

— note: this is a yandere fic. sensitive topics such as manipulation, gaslighting, murder, and other topics involved with the genre. please heed the warnings and read this work of fiction while keeping this in mind.

FIC WARNINGS: murder, manipulation, blood, blood drinking, torture references, dark magic, kidnapping. this series is very dark, if you're uncomfortable with the subjects listed do not read. warnings will change but be listed in each chapter. there is no tag list for this series.

You hold your jacket above your head as you walk down the path. The feelings are too much for you to try and decipher right now. You were in a loving relationship that ended because Soobin disappeared, leaving just a note behind. Whatever feeling that's dwelling within you right now is not what you think. You're just heartbroken and lonely. And they're here. It's nothing more than that.

The rain spills over the sides of the jacket, splashing against your skin. You flinch when it enters your eyes, strands of your hair sticking to your face. Just a few more steps, a few more, and you'll be out of here. You won't have to see them again. You'd be free of faeries.

"Won't you let me take you home?" A shimmering cloud rises from the darkness. Wooyoung conjures up in front of you, arms crossed against his chest. You stop on the path, a sigh escaping your lips.

"The bus is fine."

"Waiting for it in the downpour? What if it's late?"

You maneuver around him, frowning, "Then I'll walk."

"You live ten kilometers from our home." His footsteps follow close behind you. "And it would be safer to be with us."

"I need to get in a workout, anyway."

"Is it because of that estranged boyfriend of yours?" He asks, appearing in front of you again. "Is that why you're hesitant to stay over? Worried you're committing adultery?"

"He left me," you say through your teeth. "He has no hold over me."

"Then why are you afraid of your emotions?" He tilts his head, pouting. "You care, and yet you run. Every day you come over here, you pretend to not care for us. Is that just something humans do? Run from the emotions they feel?"

"I don't have time for this –"

Wooyoung steps closer, your foot stumbling over the saturated grass. He catches you with ease, arm hooking around your torso, pulling you close to his chest. You hold your breath. His face is barely a breath away from you. Just as you're about to tell him you're fine, his grip tightens.

"How long will we have to wait?" His tone is soft. "For your shame of loving Unseelies to fade away?"

"I don't –"

He hums, shaking his head, "Ah ah. Don't you remember? I can't lie." He leans forward, lips hovering just over yours. "I hope we can stop playing pretend one day, my pretty solaris. I hope you can see how easily we shine together. Because I am very much drowning in my affection for you and desperately clawing for a reprieve that only your confession can grant. It is a bit pathetic," He steadies you, face pulling away from yours. The warmth of your body consumes you from his touch. If he notices it, he does not mention it. He bows.

"You better catch your bus, or else I'll truly have to keep you to myself," his lip lifts, gesturing in front of you. He dissipates into the night, your hurried steps running out the forest and onto the bus. There are very few others on it as it drives off, your eyes flicking out the window. For a moment, you think you see the shimmer of gold between the trees.

[stillness138]

where are characters from the first Hades game now, and some other character-centric theories:

inspired by this post by @thebuttsmcgee

so from the technical test gameplay stream we learned that Chronos straight up took over the underworld and kidnapped not only Hades, but Zagreus and Persephone too. out of the underworlders from the first game, Charon is still doing his thing in secret, Skelly returns in a new coat, the Wretched Broker is back too, and Hypnos is the only other guy from the House who's hiding at Hecate's hub, but he's also fast asleep...

personally, i think Hypnos might be cursed or something like that. Chronos using Hypnos's schtick against him? lose time by sleeping through it all? or maybe he just wakes up a bit later. hell, maybe he's always asleep during the test but not the final game because he would've dropped a spoiler or something.

so what about the rest?

assuming they're not all imprisoned somehow,

-Nyx and Thanatos: they could've fled to Chaos. a narrator's note at the Crossroads says that it houses 'those still loyal to lord Hades', but doesn't necessarily say 'all of them'. Nyx visits Chaos in the first game once their relationship is mended, and like the post i linked said, Than would've probably tried to protect the family and the House for as long as he could. but in the face of no other option, i think Chaos would be a viable place to flee to for the two of them, out of Chronos's reach similarly to the Crossroads. Than also visits the surface though, so maybe he'll show up at the Crossroads at some point? maybe in a plot point, trying to help Mel free Zag and the fam? both of them are important enough to warrant an appearance.

-the Furies: my idea is that all three of them were forced to serve Chronos. they're a very important part of security and upkeep down there, i think he would've wanted the realm's employees on his side. i don't however think they're going to be the bossfight between Asphodel and Tartarus. they, or Meg alone, should have some presence however.

-Sisiphus: it would be kinda cute if the furies went behind Chronos's back and helped to tuck Sisiphus away somewhere safe, given that he is loyal to Zag/the family and maybe that'd mean they were ordered to torture him again. depends on what Chronos's rule over the underworld looks like for the different shades there, but Melinoë speaks to the few that hang around at Crossroads in an almost comforting manner, so i imagine Chronos is trying to rule by fear and get shades on his side that way. Bouldy's gonna be sad, but fine. i hope. but at least a mention would be nice.

-Achilles and Patroclus (and Theseus&Asterius): ...they're probably separated again, aren't they... brainstorming now, i like (pain and) the idea that they're both in Elysium, just not together. because i think Elysium would've risen up as an army of sorts trying to oppose Chronos, given it's all warriors and heroes. separated by war. Nemesis having Stygius with her makes me believe Achilles could be wielding Varatha. additionally, Theseus being forced to step up and put his vanity aside, delicious idea i think. also, Mel arriving to this supposed paradise only to find it in a desolate state. all of them, i think, should be at the very least mentioned too.

-Orpheus and Euridice: they could be both hiding or imprisoned or forced to serve, but. what if this time it's Euridice who's looking for Orpheus. he's at the house and at Chronos's whim, while she makes it to the Crossroads and asks Mel for help. it'd be a shame if they were never heard from again.

-Cerberus: probably locked up with the fam :( orrr he's running wild all around the realm and Chronos is literally incapable of taming him. that would've been fun. Cerberus bossfight tho... nah. no way he wouldn't see something familiar in Mel. but it could be fun too if done right. he definitely has to reappear.

-Dusa: wild theory time but she's hiding in the rafters, spying on Chronos. :D. if the situation is much more dire, she's either also forced to serve, or even banished into Asphodel to be with the other gorgon heads. either way i think she'll pop up again in some capacity.

-House Contractor, Head Chef, Resource Director: probably unwillingly continuing their jobs under Chronos's rule. although the chef might've lost his job, depends if Chronos like, eats normal food. well mostly onions and fish but still. alternatively, the chef will also show up at Crossroads like the Wretched Broker does.

-THE GOOD SHADE from Elysium: okay war hero good shade arc when? i'm sorry, but i love them.

some other ideas, theories and wishes:

-the obvious one is Hera, like many others i also hope she will appear as a major boon giver.

-i have a feeling, however, that Hermes might not. it seems a bit that Artemis and Selene are filling up his role as the little bit specific boon giver, but maybe i'm wrong. Artemis provides crit boons just like in the first game and Selene has a bit more of a Chaos vibe to her. let's see.

-i do think, or would like it if, Chaos shows up, but not as a boon giver. but i believe they would definitely have something to say about Chronos's actions.

-back to Hermes though... there's that sealed staircase that leads upwards from the Crossroads. people have already been theorizing this, but there might seriously be a section of the game taking place on Olympus, or at the very least somewhere under it. still, i don't think Hermes would be a boon giver either if he does appear. i would however like to see him interact with Charon.

-the Fates will, i think, remain obscure, even if Moros has more of a connection to them. maybe they'll be mentioned and explored a bit more, but i wouldn't count on them appearing by themselves.

-i would however like to see at least one more of Nyx's kids. originally, i also hoped Erebus himself ever shows up personified, but i like what they've done with it as a place.

Eris is i'd say the biggest contender, given that she's namedropped in the first game through a weapon aspect and a purchasable item. maybe she's even boss material (again, if Nemesis has the sword, Eris may wield the rail).

-same thinking can be applied to Ariadne (she lives with Dionysus on Olympus, does she not?), Talos (giant robot made by Hephaestus, how cool is that), and Lamia (snake lady with personal history with Zeus and Hera, would even make for a cool boss too i think, although i always viewed her as a more melancholic figure. but i'm just spitballing here). there are also Atlas, Prometheus and other names on Charon's many items, those are less likely to make an appearance imo.

-Talos also obviously has a weapon aspect in the first one, and then there's Chiron. in myth, he is the son of Chronos. the juiciness of that situation, given he has a relationship with Achilles and Patty as well... perhaps he'll be Elysium's miniboss in the spirit of Asterius? or straight up a main boss? or actually a friendly? i really hope they did something with him, the potential is so very there.

-i think Daedalus will remain present just in name and spirit.

-now that i'm on the weapons though, for all we know there might not be such a thing as weapon aspects (at least not tied to specific figures) in Hades 2, but if there are, including hidden aspects, i'd like to see nods to more of other world mythologies/histories/cultures, like Egyptian, Japanese, pre-columbian American or Slavic.

-this brings me to keepsakes and companion plushies, if they're in the game at all and if so, who gives them out.

keepsake-wise, beside the olympians, Hecate is obvious, as well as Odysseus, and Nemesis and Moros are too. Arachne and Skelly also. Charon seems likely, so does Dora. maybe Hypnos if/when he wakes up. Selene, probably.

i'd say, if companions are a thing, it's also up to Nemesis and Moros, Odysseus, maybe Hecate, likely Arachne, and if there's 6 of them like last time, the final one will be from either Dora or someone we haven't seen yet. or Hecate doesn't give one (she's pretty op for a summon) but Skelly does.

-this also ties into romance! it's been deduced a long time ago, right when the trailer came out, that Nemesis and Moros are very likely romanceable. i also see the appeal and potential of romancing Dora, and from the technical test, i like Melinoë's friendship with Artemis. Hypnos's presence at the Crossroads is interesting from this point too, but i wouldn't guess he'll be romanceable if/when he wakes up.

there are more details to speculate about, especially in gameplay and resources (boss room rewards! the equivalent of nectar/ambrosia to give characters!) but i wanted to keep this mainly about the npcs.

honestly curious what other people are saying!

[rpstartersinc]

* 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐘'𝐒 ( 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑. )

feel free to change pronouns / wording!

" you're being a jerk. "

" you know i have somewhere i have to be. "

" guess it depends on what you believe. "

" you want your usual, right? "

" you beat up a man in broad daylight. "

" it's like you're not even trying here. "

" i am just trying to figure out who you are. "

" you want the job or not? "

" thanks for babysitting. "

" i wish someone would buy me a ring. "

" that good-looking guy i recognise, who are all these other punks? "

" you should know what happens to little kids who don't eat their dinners. their bodies stay the same size forever and they never get to ride the adult rides at the amusement park. "

" how about some burger with that ketchup? "

" everything's better swimming in ketchup. "

" don't tell me to calm down. "

" you know that this is the right thing to do. "

" i'm hardly fit to be raising a kid. "

" just keep your eyes on the monitor and keep people out. "

" we're going to have so much fun together. "

" you do realise that lunch is the most important meal of the day? "

" it's just a theory. "

" sleeping is not a crime. "

" why don't we just kill him? "

" i'm coming with you. "

" about time, starting to think maybe you fell asleep on the job. "

" you're bleeding, by the way. "

" i like to stay well-informed. "

" i really loved this place as a kid. "

" you've been acting suspicious since the moment you opened the door. "

" it's been a weird night. "

" this place... it gets to people. "

" you security hires, you never last. "

" wanna dance? "

" don't let this place get to you. "

" warmer... "

" i made a mess, i'm sorry. "

" it's not funny! "

" it's nice that we can finally agree about something. "

" you just have to know how to look. "

" from where i sit, i'd say you're lucky. "

" no more sleeping on the job. "

" you're not here to have fun. "

" i'll give you anything you want. "

" i thought i was gonna die. "

" you can come out now! "

" i won't get angry at you. "

" ghost children possessing giant robots? thanks for the heads-up. "

" they're spring locks. "

" they tend to be pretty unstable. "

" i don't think they like me very much. "

" i don't really see how that's any of your business. "

" finding the guy that did this is the only thing that matters to me. "

" you just had an accident, you're okay. "

" i saw your eyes, you were terrified. "

" you were never the right person to take care of her. "

" you can't stay in there forever, you know? "

" i managed to stop the bleeding, but you're probably gonna need stitches. "

" they tried to kill me. "

" it's not just their ghosts that are inside of those machines. "

" it's their bodies. "

" i tried to warn you. "

" he really messed you up, didn't he? "

" you couldn't just leave it alone, could you? "

" i have something for you to play with. "

" a little old for temper tantrums, aren't we? "

" you had one job, one. "

" that's two jobs. "

" i won't let you hurt her, too. "

" they know what you did. "

" look at the nasty things that you have become! "

" look how small you are, how worthless you are! "

" you are wretched, rotten little beasts. "

" i made you! "

" i always come back. "

" i'm having a hard time just processing everything that happened. "

" you never know what can happen. "

" do you think if you drink enough milk, you just turn into a cow? "

[whumpandothercomfort]

Whumper who has given (defiant) pet whumpee a specifically stressful time recently, and whumpee finally breaks due to stress in front of whumper — who “comforts” them …

(Plsss<3.)

"Let me out!"

It's been nearly two hours in the discipline cage, so named because it's by far the most unpleasant cage to be trapped in. Pet is on their stomach, head raised, arms pinned behind their back. Their legs are folded and locked to the cage's low ceiling, providing absolutely no leverage or relief.

They can't move. The pain is excruciating. It's taken a long time to break, but finally, the panic sets in -- they're exhausted. They're so tired. They need to be done.

"Hm? What was that?" Whumper looks up from their desk, eyebrows raised.

Pet rattles their pinned arms as well as they can, clanging softly against the top of the cage. "Let me out, let me out, let me out-"

"Is that a command? You don't give me commands, sweetling."

"I need out!"

Whumper heaves a sigh and makes a big show of putting aside their work, then walks over to the cage. They sit down on the floor in front of Pet, eyeing them dispassionately.

"Please," Pet sobs, and there are tears streaming down their face, snot pouring from their nose, unable to wipe any of it away, "please, please, p-p-please, I'll do anything, please, it hurts-"

The bars locking their head in place are strategic, immobilizing the joints while leaving plenty of gaps. Whumper is able to reach inside with no trouble, gently petting Pet's sweaty hair.

"I need out," Pet says again, yanking at their arms, desperately flexing the muscles in their legs. "I need out, I need out-"

"But you must have known it would hurt," Whumper murmurs, "when you disobeyed me. Again. This is exactly what you wanted, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry," Pet sobs, breath hitching, crying so hard they're half-choking. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll do anything, I'll be better, I'll prove I'm better, please, please, please-"

"Mmm. You do seem very sorry."

"I am," Pet says, eager and wretched, nearly tripping over the words. "I am, I am, I'll be good, I'll be good, let me out, please let me out, I need out-"

"But," Whumper continues, "if I let you free every time you cry, how are you going to learn your lesson?"

"No, no no no, I've learned, I-"

"You'll think, 'Ah, but I can disobey -- a few tears and my master will forgive me like always.'"

"I don't think that, no, no, please-"

Whumper keeps up the gentle petting, brushing Pet's hair back from their face. Their eyes are wide and helpless, but they're still leaning into the comfort, with the tiny amount of mobility they have.

"What do you think it'll take," Whumper murmurs, "to keep you from ever disobeying again?"

"I won't, I won't-"

"Still so defiant." They sigh, all sympathy. "Poor thing. I'm finished with my work for the night. It's time for bed."

The relief has barely had time to enter Pet's gaze when Whumper adds, "I'll come let you out in the morning. Unless you're still not ready."

Pet breaks into a frantic, babbling litany - please I can't I can't I really can't please no please I can't take it I need out I really need out I need out let me out let me out please please PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE -

Whumper draws back and straightens up. They head up the stairs and turn off the light, and the door closes on Pet still howling in the dark.

[turtlecleric]

Trapper!Raph >:)

CWs: violence, blood, bear trap injury, talk of death, including a known cycle of repeated deaths over time, gruesome, gory, and creepy things, feelings/thoughts of hopelessness and being resigned to death/pain, uhhhhhhhh horror vibes?? Based on the Trapper character and entire premise of Dead by Daylight

-

The mists are thick tonight. Thicker than usual. You can barely see fifteen feet ahead of you, and the darkness beyond seems almost tangible. Like some great cage in all directions. Even if you were to scale the impossibly high walls surrounding the estate, you feel like you would still slam into solid black if you ran far enough. Sometimes it feels as if the darkness itself is what's keeping you here, in this insane loop of death and suffering and fear. Maybe the darkness is just as alive as you are. A sentient, ancient being that feeds off of your anguish and terror.

A silly thought, maybe. But part of you believes it's the truth. 

It's so quiet here. Unnaturally so. Your shallow breaths and light footfalls feel like blaring alarms in the eerie silence. You know you need to watch where you step - always, always watch where you step - but you can't help glancing around every few seconds at the trees surrounding you. You can't shake the feeling that he's nearby, watching. Like he can see through this oppressive fog somehow and he's just waiting for you to lower your guard before he makes his move. 

Focus. Listen. 

You hear a generator. Somewhere to your right, you think, and it sounds like it's well on its way to being finished. So close to being done, actually, that you hesitate. You can't hear anyone working on it right now. Surely there's a reason that whoever started it didn't finish if it's that close. Maybe he found them and he's chasing them away. 

Or maybe it's a trap. That's his whole thing, after all. Traps. 

…But the generator sounds so close to being done. And you only need two more to escape this wretched place - at least until the darkness drags you back in.

Breathe. Focus. Keep going. 

You didn't think you could get more tense than you already are, but apparently you can. The fear is a constant, choking thing, but it's especially strong now that the trees are starting to thin. So strong that you're sick from it, that you can barely breathe through it, but you keep walking. Carefully stepping among the gnarled tree roots, one eye on the ground and the other on your surroundings. It's just trees and mist and darkness in every direction. Everything looks the same, like you're walking in circles, but the sound of the generator is getting louder, so you know you're going in the right direction. 

A shout in the distance has you gasping and stumbling over your own feet. It's not close, but it's not far enough away for you to feel safe, either. You push away the tightness in your lungs and keep walking, even as a longer scream tears through the air. 

He's caught the last of the others, then.

You consider going to save the person. No doubt they're being carried to a hook. You're not sure why, but usually that's what happens when you're caught. You've been thrown onto one plenty of times before. The pain is indescribable - having a rusted, metal hook shoved through your shoulder, your own weight dragging you down as you hang there and pray to a god you no longer believe in that one of the others will be brave enough to pull you off before you're consumed by those terrifying tendrils that come from the sky. 

Your chest aches just thinking about it. 

A third scream sounds, and you get that distinct feeling you always get when someone is hooked that confirms your theory. Maybe… maybe you should-

There. The generator. You were right; it's almost finished. The pistons are moving quickly, the rickety thing so loud that it sounds cacophonous in your ears. Shouldn't take more than a minute to get it done, and then you only need one more to power the exit doors before you're free.

You'll finish the generator. Then you'll go save that person. Yes, that's what you'll do. 

You glance behind you, looking for a hint of that terrifying mask he wears somewhere among the trees. You're being paranoid - that scream was too far away for him to suddenly be close enough that you could see him - but you keep scanning the treeline anyway. You notice a hook nearby and feel a phantom pain in your shoulder. 

Come on, focus. Keep walking. You're almost to the gen-

Something snaps. Sharp, intense pain flares in your lower calf, and you try not to make a sound, you try, but a jagged shriek rips out of your throat anyway. You fall to your hands and knees, your heart in your throat. Thoughts splintering, your fingers reach toward the source of the pain and find metal. 

You've stepped in a bear trap.

Stupid. Stupid. Always watch where you're stepping when it's him, you know that, that's the number one rule and you've broken it. Stupid from fear, getting ahead of yourself, you've stepped right into one of his traps - and he definitely heard you. He always does.

You try to shift your weight so that you can get a good grip on the top of the trap, but even moving an inch has you crying out and freezing in place. For a long moment you can only shake and whimper and try to breathe. Every twitch sends shooting pains through your leg, waves of nausea and dizziness making it hard to focus on anything aside from the pain. 

Still, you've got to at least try to get free. He's almost certainly on his way. You need to get free and run - but fuck, fuck, you can't even see straight. You don't think you'll ever get used to how much it fucking hurts. The surreal, lightheaded feeling. The way your very bones seem to tremble. It hurts. It hurts. 

It'll hurt no matter what, you tell yourself. And it'll hurt more if he gets his hands on you. So you shift, inch by inch, and you grip the top of the trap, and you try to focus past the sparks dancing in your vision. 

The teeth of the trap have embedded themselves deep into the flesh on each side of your lower calf. Blood gushes between the teeth, soaking the fabric of your torn pants and making both the metal and your fingers slippery. 

Fuck.

You take a shuddering breath and try to adjust your grip. You just have to pry the trap open. You've done it before, and you can do it again. It's simple. Simple, but not easy. 

You can do this. Focus. Deep breath. Pull.

The teeth start to pull away, and more blood gushes out. Your ears ring, an intense dizziness making your vision blur even more, your arms shaking from the effort, and - you lose your grip. The teeth hadn't even fully retracted from your skin, but you can't help letting out a choking sob as the trap snaps back into place. Fuck, it hurts. Your chest heaves, your whole body trembling as you moan pitifully through the pain. 

You can't do it. You can't get out. Too weak, too tired, too stupid. You're trapped, you're trapped, you're trapped-

And then. You feel it. That unnatural, inexplicable something that tells you he's close. A sound, a feeling, like your own thundering heartbeat, but so much more. You look around, frantically searching for that telltale red light that accompanies him everywhere, wiping desperately at the tears blurring your vision, probably smearing blood across your face in the process. It doesn't help you see any better - only makes the smell of copper that much stronger in your nose. Movement from the corner of your eye catches your attention, and helpless dread settles in your stomach like a stone. 

It's him. The Trapper.

You take in the hulking figure. The slow, lumbering gait. Just his silhouette is enough to make you freeze like- well. Like prey, caught in a trap. Normally you'd be scrambling to pry the trap off, desperately trying to get away, but… not this time. Maybe it's the blood loss. Or maybe you're just tired of fighting a pointless battle in an endless war that's impossible to win. Either way, instead of trying to free yourself, you watch him stalk closer in a daze.

The monsters in this place are all unique. Some look just like humans, while others are so horrific it makes you nauseous just thinking about them. The Trapper, though… he's something in between. An enormous humanoid… turtle? You think so, yeah. With spikes jutting out along his arms, his shell, his long, thick tail. He wears a filthy pair of overalls, frayed at the edges and covered in dirt and viscera. His spikes have poked through them in several places, as well. His mask, a horrific, grimy thing that was once white, covers all of his face except for the eye holes and the opening over his mouth that's twisted into the shape of a grotesque smile. The cleaver he carries is almost the size of your entire torso, and you can see blood still dripping sluggishly from the blade. 

He's getting closer. Slow and steady, as always. You've never seen him run - and isn't that strange? That you can sprint for half an hour without stopping, and somehow he manages to keep up with you the entire time? That's odd. Then again, everything about this hell is odd. You can't remember the last time you ate or drank anything, yet you feel no hunger or thirst. You've died countless times, yet here you are. 

You're not sure why these are the thoughts fumbling around in your head. You're not sure why you're still just watching him advance. Is this what it feels like? To finally give up? 

The Trapper is almost upon you. Your heart throws itself wildly against your ribcage, begging you to run. Silly thing. Doesn't it know that there's no point? You'll die, and then you'll be back, and you'll die again. What's the point in even trying? This is what your life, if you can even call it that, is going to be like for eternity. Pain and fear and death. Over and over and over. 

Still, it screams. Run. Run away.

You keep watching him. The way the mist swirls around him is almost pretty, especially with the red glow that emanates from him, staining the ground in front of him a deep crimson. When he gets close enough for that red light to wash over you, you wonder if your heart might actually leap from your chest and run away without you since you refuse to listen. 

He's so close you can feel the heat radiating off of his body. So close that you have to angle your head back to keep your eyes on his mask. His arm raises, and this is the part where you should look away. Or shield yourself, or beg for mercy, or- something. But nothing has ever made a difference in the past. Why bother? He'll strike you down and toss you over his shoulder and carry you to that hook you saw nearby. That's just the way it is, now that you're caught, and anything you do now will just be delaying the inevitable. 

So you watch. And you wait for the strike. 

…The strike doesn't come. 

He's just… standing there. Looming over you. His hand still holding that great cleaver in the air. Now that you're paying attention, you can hear his heavy breaths - unsteady, with the hint of a growl in each one - starting to come a little faster. 

That's… new.

You stare up at him. He stares down at you. After what feels like an eternity, the cleaver lowers, and he- he drops it.

What?

Never. Never. Not once in the entire time you've been trapped in this hell has a monster dropped their weapon. Even when stunned, or blinded, or while watching the last survivor sprint through the exit doors - they've always kept a firm grip on their weapon. You wouldn't have been surprised if the weapons were somehow bound to their hands, in fact. 

And yet. 

He moves, slow and steady, to settle on one knee. Even kneeling, he towers over you, the red light that seemingly comes from nowhere making you squint until your eyes adjust. You're still panting, little whimpers slipping out against your will. And he's just staring. 

What is he doing?

You glance from his mask to his hands. He's released his cleaver, sure, but those hands could easily crush your skull like a ripe melon. Maybe that's what he wants. Maybe he's tired of striking people down in the same way every time, maybe he wants some variety. 

No. You focus on his eyes. You've never been this close for this long, never been able to see what they actually look like beneath that mask. They're fully white - no pupils or anything - but you see… confusion there. Something tentative and unsure. Something you've never seen in a monster before. 

His hand reaches toward you, and a spike of panic has your next breath stuttering in your lungs. You wait for a blow, a bruising grip around your throat - but it doesn't come. His hand has three fingers, you realize. Not as though two are missing, no, but more like that's just how he was born. 

You're not sure why that's what you're focused on at a time like this. 

Two of his fingers brush over your cheek. His skin - scales? - are rough, but it doesn't hurt. He's… gentle. It's almost a caress, the way his fingers trail along your jaw. 

What is happening?

You focus on his eyes once more. The confusion you see in them is more intense now, and you can see the hints of his brow furrowing beneath the mask. 

Earlier you'd been stupid from fear. Now you must be stupid from blood loss, or just plain stupid, because in the next second you open your mouth to whisper. 

“Trapper?”

He inhales sharply. Blinks. And suddenly the red light is gone. Suddenly you see his pupils, suddenly that overwhelming something you always feel when a monster is near dissipates. His breaths come even faster, a hysterical undertone making you worry for him. 

This creature has killed you before. Why are you worried about him?

He shakes his head, a jerky, panicked motion, and pulls his hand away from your cheek. You could swear his eyes look almost - afraid. Darting between your bloodied face and your leg in the trap and the foggy woods that surround you both. His eyes settle on yours again, and you swear - you swear - that you start to see his eyes shine with tears. 

You don't have time to think too much about that before his hands shift to grip the bear trap around your leg and snap it open like it's nothing. Once again, you can't help but let out a pained shout between clenched teeth, the dizziness and ringing in your ears coming back in full force as more blood flows sluggishly from the puncture wounds. He doesn't even need to throw you on a hook, you think deliriously. He could just leave you here and wait for the darkness to take you, as long as no other survivors come along and help. But that's not an option, since the last survivor is on a hook right now. Even if they were free, there's not much time left, anyway, since you can already feel yourself starting to-

-

Motion. Dull, rhythmic thuds. Harsh panting, tinged with something like panic. Someone is carrying you, each step jostling your leg and turning your thoughts to static. It takes a few minutes before you remember. Before you realize. 

You passed out. That's what happened. Opening your eyes presents you with the blurry sight of the Trapper's mask above you and a starless sky beyond. 

Oh. He's carrying you. To a hook? But there was one right by where you were, why would he have to run to- 

He's running. He's running. 

You try to say something, but it just comes out a garbled mess. Even you aren't sure what you were trying to say. He doesn't respond, but he does glance down at you. His eyes are wild, but not in a way you'd ever expect. There isn't fury or bloodlust there. Instead, you see fear. Desperation. Guilt. Things you hadn't thought the monsters in here were even capable of feeling. You also realize that he's carrying you bridal style, cradling you close to his chest. Usually he just tosses people over his shoulder when he carries them to a hook. 

So many things that don't add up here, so many things out of the ordinary. What happened? What changed?

Where is he taking you?

You turn your head, looking in the direction that he's running. Your vision is still blurry, and you can't make out anything but vague shapes through the mist and darkness. Your head rolls back, and you catch the unmistakable sight of those inky black tendrils reaching down from the sky in the distance, twisting and curling until they breach the top of the treeline.

The last survivor. You'd wanted to save them, but if those things are descending for them it's too late. Not that you're in any state to lift someone off a hook anyway.

You're sorry. Fuck, you're so sorry.

You blink and suddenly the Trapper isn't running anymore. Instead he's shifting you in his arms. That was odd. Did you pass out again for a few seconds? You can't really tell, but you're distracted by the flare of pain in your leg that the movement causes. 

Focus on something else. 

Again you twist to look forward. You're shocked to see that he's brought you to the exit doors, and he's pressing a hand to the switch. You're not sure what he's doing, exactly - it won't activate unless all the generators are up and running. 

Wait. Why did he bring you to the exit doors?

You can't focus. Can't organize your thoughts. Can't even lift your head for more than a few seconds at a time. Surely you're close to bleeding out at this point. Maybe all of this has been some strange hallucination that your brain cooked up while you lie dying on the ground, still stuck in that bear trap. Sometimes the monsters do that - leave you there to bleed out. Sometimes they just stand there and watch you as the light leaves your eyes, guarding the area so that no others can help you. 

A faint red glow distracts you from your thoughts. Your eyes focus back on the Trapper's hand against the switch, and you're shocked to see his hand glow red. It's not the same red that usually accompanies him, though. This feels… different. Just as strong, but more… pure. 

A blaring horn cuts through the air as the exit doors grind open. He shifts you in his arms once again and starts to carry you through the doors. You can see the dark, empty field beyond. Your path to freedom and safety, temporary as it is, sends a rush of excitement through you. Incredulous, you stare up at the Trapper as he kneels and carefully lowers you to the ground inches away from the edge of the little area that separates the walled estate in one direction and the open field in the other. Behind him, you can see the grounds of the estate starting to shake. Angry red lines crack the earth, and little tendrils of darkness start to curl up from the shadows. 

The Trapper is watching you. Holding you upright with a hand supporting your back. You try to blink away the blurriness, but you can't. Can't focus. Can't think. But you know freedom is within reach. You only need to crawl across the threshold and you'll be fine. It doesn't make sense, but as long as you cross the threshold you always make it back to the campfire. Even if you're on the verge of death, you make it back. 

And he's brought you right to the edge. As far as he can go. No monster has ever been able to cross the threshold. 

You must have finally lost your mind. He isn't holding you here, isn't trying to stop you from leaving, and yet you haven't moved. Not only is he still very capable of killing you, even without the cleaver he seems to have left behind, but you're also on a timer. Once the exit doors are open, there's only so much time before the darkness swallows anyone who hasn't escaped. It's a quick death, sure, but incredibly unpleasant. Just the memory of what it sounds like for your bones to crack and crunch inside of you sends a shiver up your spine.

But… this is all so strange. You're half convinced that you're dreaming. A monster showing any sort of mercy is unheard of, much less a monster helping you escape. Could this be another trap, somehow?

It's at that moment that you hear him speak for the very first time. His voice is a rumbling, scratchy thing that sounds like it hasn't been used in ages. Cracking at the edges and colored with something timid and pleading.

“Please,” he whispers. “Go.”

There are things you want to ask. Things you want to say. You didn't even know he was capable of speech until now. But you're running out of time. Every second that you delay is another second closer to death. Dying is never easy, never pleasant, but you seriously consider waiting it out just to get more time to experience whatever the fuck is happening right now. You have no clue how long you've been stuck in this hell, but it's been long enough that you've started to forget things. Like your mother's maiden name. Your address. What color your best friend's eyes were. And in all the time you've spent here, nothing like this has ever happened. You don't know if it ever will again. 

He nudges your thigh with his free hand. Gentle but insistent. You have to blink a few times to focus on his face - mask. Mask, it's a mask. You wonder what he looks like underneath it. 

It isn't until his hand closes around your wrist that you realize you had started reaching toward him. “Mask,” you mumble, hearing the slurring in your own voice. You think you might be dangerously close to passing out again. Somehow that fact doesn't bother you as much as it should. 

“It doesn't come off.” He clears his throat, releasing your wrist. “I've tried.”

That must be uncomfortable. Stifling, even. Does that mean he doesn't want to wear it? Who put it on him, then? And why?

His voice interrupts your thoughts again, but you don't quite catch what he says. Something about sorrow and meaning… or, no, that's not exactly what it was. You're drifting a bit, you realize. Having trouble keeping your eyes open. You feel him nudge you again, a little harder this time, and manage to pry your eyes open long enough to catch his gaze. You see tears there. 

Crying. He's still crying. 

Why do you care? 

You glance behind him. The grounds of the estate are almost unrecognizable from how warped they've become. You need to go. But for the first time, you're wondering what it's like for him. Does he wake up at a campfire once the trial is over, too? Is he stuck on the estate until the darkness whisks him off to another location with new victims? Does he even want to kill people? And how did he even end up here in the first place? You'd always thought the monsters were sort of - part of it all. Just like the dilapidated buildings and the black sky, something that was created just for the purpose of torturing you and the others you've seen between the short reprieves offered by the campfire. 

Was he stolen away from his life just like you were? Is he just as trapped as you?

Time is almost up. If you delay any longer it'll be over, and you can't stomach dying when escape is right here at your fingertips. So you lean, falling onto your forearms, and start to drag yourself over the threshold. 

Just before you're clear, you glance back. He's still there. Watching. Kneeling. You can't be sure, but you think he's… trembling. 

What must it be like? Watching you crawl away while he's stuck behind?

You swallow thickly, hesitating. You can't stay, and you can't take him with you, but you also can't leave without saying something. “Thank you, Trapper.”

The mask obscures his expression, but you see his hands tighten into fists. “Raphael,” he says weakly. Something in his inflection makes you want to turn back and sit with him until the darkness takes you. But you don't. “My name is Raphael.”

“...Thank you, Raphael.”

And you crawl away.

-

tag list: @yorshie @luckycharms1701 @thejudiciousneurotic @khayalli @thelaundrybitch @mxalmighty @justalotoffanfiction @shakeyourtrees

[dying-brb]

desolation / an ellie x f!oc fanfiction / tlou universe

!slowburn !angst !subreader !domellie !fluff

tw: this is a heavy fic. mentions of sa, violence, gore, etc. 18+

(oc starts off 14 but only for backstory)

click if you haven't read chapter 1

chapter 2: 1900 words

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Natalie  -  14 yrs old  ⋆⭒˚.⋆

The leader of the cannibalistic cult that had captured me, David, began making regular visits to my cell.

Every morning. Every night.

Initially, I tensed at the creak of the door and his heavy steps echoing through the confined space. He would slip into my cell at dawn, before the sun even rose, and again at dusk as twilight fell. I assumed he chose these times to avoid detection by others in the community. If they were capable of consuming their own kind—people they had known, and enjoyed it—what regard would they have for their "Father" assaulting a young girl?

At first, I fought. I screamed, kicked, begged, bit, thrashed—anything to stay alive.

But after 22 days in this grim cell, my will to fight ebbed away. This wretched place drained my hope like a reverse transfusion.

The hope I once clung to was grounded in the possibility of a cure, believing my immunity could make a difference. But what kind of world would my immunity even be saving? A world where girls are confined like animals in cages? Where desperate pleas are met with cruel, heartless laughter? It was a world too far gone.

So I simply let go, releasing my tight grip on life. It seemed easier that way.

They fed me once a day, enough to sustain me if I had actually consumed what they served. Each time dinner arrived, delivered by a young girl much younger than myself, I refused—knowing full well what they were disguising as 'just venison.' I would gag and swiftly retreat to the farthest corner of my cramped cell, desperate to distance myself from the plate. I would sooner embrace death than stoop to this dehumanizing level.

David noticed my refusal to eat, observing my breath growing more ragged each day, my shirt hanging looser on my small frame. His displeasure was palpable.

"You know, if you don't eat, you'll just die. Starvation is a slow and miserable death. Is that what you want?" His eyes squinted in my direction as he spoke.

I chuckled weakly. I may not have had any fight left in me, but this defiance was the one thing I could still wield against him—something he craved but would soon lose.

"So? Let me die. I don't care. I won't have to endure you anymore," I whispered, my voice cracking, lungs wheezing with each word. A pained smile crept across my extremely chapped lips.

"I know they're tired of me taking up space in this cage. They want me gone. Your community needs food. But you don't want that, do you?" I scoffed, laughter tinged with bitterness. "You're deluded if you think you can keep me here forever. I'll die soon enough, with or without your buddies butchering me first."

Sometimes in my dreams, I glimpsed the light—the one they say appears before death. Yet, every time, just as I approached it —my hand reaching out desperately— I'd awaken to the cramped confines of my cell.

Disappointment flooded me each time.

Please. Make it stop. Let it end.

I silently begged myself and any deities who might hear my cries for help.

The sinister man—the false prophet—simply stared at me, his expression devoid of emotion.

"If you just eat, it doesn't have to be that way. You can survive this. You could join us. If you behave, of course."

Behave.

My fingers twitched at the word. He had used it incessantly during his visits. It pricked at my eyes and pierced my skin, much like the frigid air on my first night here. My stomach churned. Was it hunger, disgust, or perhaps fear?

"Never," I choked out, tears streaming down my cheeks as he grinned, evidently pleased to provoke a reaction from me.

Now, death was the escape I sought out, death was my vengeance. He would no longer hold my life in his hands, and I would finally be free of him, this place, this cruel torturous world.

A young girl interrupted my thoughts, entering with dinner and placing it on the floor outside of my cell.

"Ravioli today. Mommy said not to waste it or you'll be punished," she chirped, nudging the plate so it slid beneath the bars of the cage. With a skip in her step and a faint smile on her lips, she hummed her way out of the room.

Punishment was reserved for disobedience, escape attempts, or failure to answer David and the others. They'd burn the soles of my feet to ensure I couldn't flee. It had been over a week since I last endured it. I hoped to keep it that way.

I didn't comprehend how they could subject a child to witness a prisoner like this: innocent, naive, and impressionable. This young girl bore daily witness to my battered body. I frowned, contemplating her upbringing, silently hoping for a better future than that of the other corrupted souls trapped here.

Aware that the ravioli came from a can, I crawled over on hands and knees, trembling as I ate the cold concoction with the spoon they provided. Normally denied utensils, I suspected it was the young girl's oversight. David remained oblivious.

"Good. You're eating," he remarked, rising and casting a glance in my direction. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it, Cupcake?"

I recoiled at the nickname. Throughout my time in confinement, they had never managed to pry my real name from me. Instead, they relied on pet names or simply calling out "Hey, you!" to get my attention.

I mechanically stuffed the ravioli into my mouth, despite my stomach already feeling uncomfortably full from days of only sips of water. Every bite was a struggle, but I forced it down, knowing I would need my strength for what lay ahead.

They left the spoon behind. It was a mistake.

After finishing every last bite, I slid the plate back under the barred enclosure and carefully tucked the spoon beneath my makeshift bed—a bundle of newspaper and a thin blanket, but enough to hide my newfound tool.

Tonight marked David's final visit. Tonight, I would make my escape.

—

The night sky gleamed through the window directly opposite my cage, a constant reminder of freedom just out of reach. Tonight, though, I vowed to step into that moonlit world, to feel the crisp outdoor air on my skin once more. Never again would I have to gaze hopelessly at that window.

David had left some time ago, granting me a fleeting sense of security to plan my escape. The night watch continued their rounds, checking on me sporadically. As the weeks of my captivity drew on, the intervals between their visits stretched longer. Perhaps they mistook my subdued demeanor for resignation, believing I had surrendered any hope of freedom. Maybe yesterday they were right, but today, they would be proven wrong.

Mentally calculating, I estimated the next check-in was approximately 45 minutes away.

"Plenty of time," I muttered to myself, retrieving the spoon from under my pillow. This small oversight, this spoon, was my ticket to freedom.

Pressing the spoon against the cage's lock, I heard the bars lightly clank as I leaned into them. Damn it.

I prayed no one had heard the noise emanating from my confinement; now was my moment to slip away unnoticed. This was my sole chance, my final opportunity before the end. I knew it. The lock securing the cage door wasn't intricate—a simple, rusted padlock with a cord wrapped multiple times around the door and cage. In another time, perhaps it had been a bicycle lock.

With determination, I wedged the spoon's end between the shackle and its base, bending it toward me, shaping it into the tool I required. Straining with every ounce of remaining strength, the spoon bent into a U-shape, exerting pressure on the lock's shackle. The metal groaned, protesting against the strain until finally, with a snap, the rusted shackle yielded, freeing the old lock.

I exhaled a long sigh of relief before slipping out of the cage, my limbs trembling with adrenaline, my mind racing. Glancing at the butchering table that had loomed in front of me for so long, I smirked and quietly seized a cleaver as I tiptoed from the room.

"David, you're dead," I thought to myself, the rush of adrenaline keeping me alert and steady. A frenzied sensation prickled my skin as I navigated the dark corridors, hunting for him.

Yet, instead of David, I encountered someone unexpected—the young girl who had dutifully brought me dinner every night since my arrival. The 9, perhaps 8-year-old pointed up at me, her finger trembling with what seemed like fear. "You're out. The Father won't like this," she whispered.

I gazed into her eyes, my expression pleading silently. I didn't know how to beg a child for my freedom, but I couldn't risk her revealing my escape either.

"Hey, kiddo. I'm going on a little adventure, okay? It's our secret," I whispered urgently.

"I love secrets! I hide them from my mommy all the time!" the little girl chirped, twiddling her fingers and scanning the room.

I chuckled softly, enough to comfort her nerves. "Me too. How about we play hide and seek? You hide, and I'll come find you," I suggested, seizing the chance to divert her attention and buy myself time.

I burned with the desire for David's reckoning, but survival drove me more.

The girl beamed, nodding eagerly and clapping her hands once before scurrying to a nearby corner, starting to count aloud. "Okay! 1, 2, 3..."

I moved cautiously past her, quickening my pace once I was out of earshot.

I swung open the front door of the building, bracing myself against the biting winds of Colorado's unforgiving winter. My hands instinctively wrapped around my body, seeking warmth that was elusive in the frigid air. This wasn't the liberation I had envisioned—feeling the cool breeze on my skin, my clothes fluttering in the wind. No, this was harsh, cutting against my weakened frame.

I recalled vividly the night when David had dragged me here, barely alive, teetering on the edge of frostbite and hypothermia. The memory made my skin crawl with the same chapped numbness as the icy winds whipped around me now.

In the distance, a horse neighed, its sound cutting through the cold night air. I pushed myself to move faster. Escaping on horseback would increase my chances of survival, offering a chance to find shelter far enough away from David and his followers, yet close enough to navigate through the wilderness.

Tears streamed down my face, turning to ice on my chilled cheeks. If I managed to escape on a harsh winter night like this, survival seemed improbable. Yet, the thought of taking control of my fate, even in such brutal conditions, ignited a flicker of hope within me.

With trembling hands, I finally reached the stable. I approached the horse cautiously, shushing her gently to signal I meant no harm, then stroking her neck to earn her trust before attempting to mount. The touch of the icy metal and the warmth of the horse's flank provided a stark contrast against the freezing air. As I settled into the saddle, the once extinguished fire within me surged back to life. This moment, seated firmly on the horse, marked the start of my battle for freedom on my own terms.

[lonelychicago]

seven sentences sunday! (spoiler: they're more than seven sentences)

tagged by the lovelies and talented @monsterrae1 @exhuastedpigeon @devirnis @messyhairdiaz @giddyupbuck @disasterbuckdiaz @wikiangela thanks for the tags, babes 💗

uhh so i don't want to give away too much of the rwrb au so have some new wip nonsense?

The waiting room must be some kind of hell on Earth, Buck is sure.

He hates hospitals— hates what they represent. Hates that everytime he's in one, something bad happens (The death of a brother he never got to meet, the end of a disastrous date, the pain and terror of having to get surgery, the sense of desperation and grief that always hangs in the air) but most of all, he hates the waiting. The not knowing what the future holds, the uncertainty of it all.

He hates that in the next few minutes, a doctor could walk through those doors and make or break Buck's life forever.

"Why are you hear?" A rough gravelly voice asks a few seats from him.

He turns and he looks at the man who spoke up— He looks just as messy and wretched as Buck probably does. The man's hair is all over the place, as he has ran his hands through it countless times, and his eyes are all puffy and red, with bags under them. He has a stubble and his hands are shaking where they're clasped on his lap.

It's almost like looking in a mirror, Buck thinks almost absentmindedly.

"My daughter." He rasps out. "She's having heart surgery."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I hope everything goes well."

"Thanks." He nods, a bitter and sad smile playing on his lips.

There's a beat of silence and then—

"What about you?"

"My son is having surgery in his legs." The man frowns. "You know... I've been an army medic and I'm now a paramedic but I still don't understand a word the doctors say."

tagging (no pressure): @buddierights @cowboy-buck @hippolotamus @alyxmastershipper @spaceprincessem @honestlydarkprincess @bekkachaos @housewifebuck @ladydorian05 @jesuisici33 @thewolvesof1998 @bigfootsmom @buck2eddie @cowboy-buddie @wildlife4life @heartshapedvows @911onabc @spotsandsocks and anyone else who wants to do it! feel free to consider this your tag 💗

[roonotrue]

Cult of the Lamb: Redemption Chapter #1

(((TW: Mildly graphicly written suicidal thoughts and ideations - DON'T READ IF THIS MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE)))

Pain - Narinder

Narinder didn't realize how much it would... Hurt.

To be free.

His arms hurt, his body hurt, and his head hurt.

As a god, he had never felt pain like this, which was the first of many signs that he was no longer divine.

And that terrified him. His arms hurt so badly he couldn't move them, and for a moment it felt like the ghosts of his chains still held him in place. His head ached from the light of the sun stabbing through the window of his home, into his light-sensitive eyes.

He can't move. His whole body feels like lead against the soft bed below him. Blankets weigh even heavier on top of him, adding to the feeling of being restrained. He wants to thrash around and escape from under them, but his limbs cramp up with every attempt he makes to move them.

And the jolt of fear that surges through him at that realization makes him want to scream out in agony and terror.

But centuries of captivity have taught him the uselessness of struggling. Have taught him patience. So he clamps his jaw shut and keeps his eyes sealed closed. Trying to listen.

He only just joined his usurpers cult as a follower yesterday, the adrenaline from their fight hadn't even left his system and suddenly the damn Lamb was showing him to his own private grand shelter, set up farther away from the other followers for 'safety purposes.' Whether the Lamb meant for him or the rest of the cult he still isn't sure.

He didn't know how to respond, he was tired. So very tired. He had never felt tired before, but this mortal body... He secured the shelter as soon as the Lamb was gone. Barricading the entrance, and windows, sealing himself inside before allowing himself to collapse into the bed and rest.

Now he's not sure how much time has passed, just that it is daylight, and that the adrenaline of everything that's happened has now left this newly mortal body of his in shambles.

Freedom. He had wanted it so bad, and now he has it, but it's nothing like he had hoped.

He is angry and miserable, he wants to scream and cry, and he wants to go back in time and wring that lamb's neck when he has the chance instead of handing over the crown to the filthy traitor. He feels like a fool, powerless, and afraid.

Trapped by something even worse than the chains his siblings had used on him. Pain.

Speaking of the Red Crown's new wearer, as if summoned like a bat out of hell, a banging on the dresser Narinder had shoved in front of the curtain door to prevent any other pathetic followers from wandering in, or worse the said lamb.

"Narinder! It's breakfast! Well- lunch, you missed breakfast, I tried to have Noon bring you some food, but they said you did... Well, this." Narinder can only assume they're referring to the barricade.

"Leave me be, wretched traitor, I have better things to do than mingle with your pathetic following over subpar mortal slop." His voice almost cracks when he tries to shift his weight to lay on his back mid-sentence.

Thus he remains on his side facing away from the entrance, his back to the sound of the lamb's voice. Something that causes a trickling of unease to build in his mind, which he tries his best to ignore for now.

"No-can-do! At least, not right now, you need to eat! You're mostly mortal now, and even if age can't kill you, starving sure can!" There's a nervous laughter in their voice as they continue to stand outside.

The Lamb could easily get through the barricade, with his fucking powers that they stole. So why they aren't just barging in with no respect for their former god and master's privacy or personal space, he has no clue.

"Starving? How pitiful do you think I am? 'Mostly mortal' or not, I will survive without food for a day. Now leave me alone." He's not sure that even if he wanted to, he could claw his way out to get food. Or that his violently churning stomach could hold it down.

His whole body feels like it's slowly spinning from the splinting pain of his head and he's certain that if his stomach wasn't empty he'd have puked by now.

"Okay, listen, I get that after everything that's happened, you want to be alone, and I'll leave you alone! After you eat something, because, sure, a day won't kill you, but when was the last time you ate during your godlyhood? I'm willing to bet never, at least not during your time chained up, and that can't have translated well to your new form." Nothing has translated well to this new damn form, and it makes him snap.

"What part of leave me alone don't you understand!? I'm not eating even if you shove it down my throat!- Ack!" He hisses and tries to, in a burst of anger-fueled energy, shove himself around onto his back.

Instead, the effort sends a cascade of cramping through his back and down his arms.

His body spasms and curls in on itself and he grits his teeth trying to stop the whimpering from escaping his lips. He sounds pathetic. He is pathetic. Fates save him from the humiliation of the lamb having heard his pain at least...

"What was that about!? Are you okay in there!?" 

It's like the universe hates him.

That's the only real reasoning he can come up with. Fate, the universe, and everything in between literally hate him. And for what? Wanting to be more than what everyone told him he was?

He calls bullshit. Fate is bullshit, and the universe is bullshit, and everything in between is bullshit.

He wants to bury his head under his pillow and stay there until time itself brings this whole world crashing to an end.

"Narinder? Do you need help? If you don't answer I'm coming in!" Once more the Lamb is banging on the dresser-made door.

"I'm fine! Go away! Don't make me tell you again!" The threat comes out strangled and weak.

Still, there is a long moment of silence. For a moment he lets himself hope that the usurper has done as he's asked, and left, but with no footsteps away to confirm this, he knows they are still out there. Perhaps carefully debating their next sentence.

"... I know I'm the last person you want to see, let alone accept help from, and trust me when I say right now the feeling is mutual, but Narinder... If you are in pain... Or you're sick and that's why you're not eating, please, just tell me... I'm only trying to help." Help?

Help?

"I think I'd rather lie down and let you kill me before I let you help me." The words are barely a hissed whisper, but he knows they hear him.

There's a sharp inhale and a frustrated groan. Along with footsteps pacing back and forth before they suddenly stop and respond again.

"Fine! But news flash One Who Waits! This is going to be a hard adjustment for you! And if you want to go through it alone and make it all the harder, then fine! Be alone! Stay in your shelter all day, every day, and starve! See if I care!" They shout at the door.

Sounding angry, and fed up.

"That's what I'm planning on doing!" It wasn't, but with the pain making it hard to move, it is now.

"Fine!" And he can hear them storming off, hooved feet kicking at the ground at random intervals as they do.

...

It's true. He'd rather suffer here alone than accept that traitors help.

You betrayed them first.

He saved their life! His pathetic Bishop kin would have executed them if he hadn't given them a new lease on life.

And all he asked was for a cult in his name, for them to free him from his chains, and return the crown to him.

And kneel and accept being sacrificed to you.

All of this... This pain, this headache, the dampness in the corners of his eyes that he's trying so hard to not let spread down his cheeks... It's all their fault.

They should have at least killed him. Why couldn't they at least finish the damn job? That pathetic, traitorous, coward. Keeping him alive just to suffer.

Surely they've done this on purpose? This was some twisted way to prolong his agony as if being imprisoned for thousands of years by his own family wasn't enough torture.

Damn them. Damn them and every last one of their dead kin.

He would rather starve. Starve to death and at least go on his own terms. Hell if he had the physical strength and a sharp enough tool he'd turn it on his wrist right now. The Lamb probably won't even come by to check on him for a long while after that spat.

So at least they would have a small respite before the cursed creature maybe resurrected them.

But no, his whole disgusting body was failing him. He would have to die the slow way.

In a sick way, he's curious about it. What does hunger feel like? Heket complained of it often, even while she was eating she would be complaining about needing another meal prepared. The Goddess of Famine knew hunger like no other.

But the concept was foreign to Narinder. He ate sometimes when he was a god. The feeling was strange. Things tasted good, like fish, but they served no other purpose than to satisfy his tastebuds.

His stomach never longed for anything. Never ached in hunger pangs, never churned with nausea from eating something bad...

His mortal body... It will wither without food. His stomach will concave as he loses weight, and he'll become weaker, sicker, and lethargic. His skin will stretch over his ribs and bones making him look like a skeleton with fur... A horrific sight, befitting of the former and rightful God of Death.

A true testament to his fall from power, into a form as tragic as this, that decays at the mere lack of sustenance for a few days.

Or more. How long will it take? He wonders.

For his organs to start failing. His heart will go first, and the rest will quickly follow, having strained for so long to keep him alive... What will be the last thing he sees? Probably darkness. The light is too bright in the daytime for him to bear keeping his eyes open.

That's okay. He's never been afraid of the dark.

Kallamar was. He was scared of a lot of things though. Including him.

Heket wasn't. Nor Leshy. The two slept like logs at night, while Narinder would wander awake with Shamura- being nocturnal beings by nature.

Sometimes...

Sometimes when they were both still little, and Kallamar had a bad day and was scared to go to bed, Narinder would sneak into his room, and distract him. Annoy him really, but deep down, he thinks his older brother appreciated it. Not being alone.

It only lasted a few years though, just before the squid reached his teen years and became completely insufferable.

...

What would they all think of him now? Preparing himself to rot from starvation... Would they think him weak for accepting such a defeat? For giving in to this mortal body's suffering and allowing himself to perish in such a pitiful way...

Would they want him to live? No. No, they wouldn't...

They'd enjoy this... Seeing him turn to skin and bone. Watching him suffer in too much pain to even move, much like when he was chained.

It isn't until the light starts to fade and he can open his eyes finally that he realizes he failed.

And now the entire spot where his head rests on his pillow is wet with tears.

In the darkness, he can only really see what's in front of him. His head refuses to lift itself up or move without pain.

He is staring right at a window, the red curtains are closed, and it's blocked off with a turned sideways dark wooden table, but moonlight peaks in from the sides and top.

There is a side table. With a vase of Camellias in the corner. Just like the one Baal used to wear on his robes.

...

In the end, they all died for nothing, didn't they? The lambs, the Bishops, Aym, and Baal...

Everything he was trying to do... All of his elaborate plans...

They've all amounted to nothing.

It's then that another knock, soft and gentle rings through the room.

"Narinder? I want to... Apologize. I lost my temper earlier. It's just... Difficult to be nice to you. I mean, you... You know what? It doesn't matter right now. I've decided, that if you don't want to accept my help, I can't force you to. But, I still don't want you to starve, and I don't think you want to either so... I'll just leave some food out here for you. I don't really know what you like, but it's a fish bowl... Will that do?" The Lamb.

Narinder is thirsty he realizes, because when he goes to speak his mouth is dry, and he has to choke the words out.

"Fine... It's fine..." He calls, and he can hear them hesitating.

"Can I ask again if you're okay?"

"No." He responds much more firmly this time, his voice still gravelly.

"Right... Well, I'll bring breakfast tomorrow."

And they're gone. Footsteps softly fade away like a ghost in the night floating off to find a new victim to haunt.

...

Why couldn't they have just killed him?

~~~

The pain is still there when he wakes up again, and his mouth is disgustingly dry. It is early morning, and the light is not yet intolerable though, and he will take that victory for what little it is.

It smells like it rained last night.

Something about that makes him feel better.

Despite the oily feeling of his filthy fur, matted with blood and dirt. Despite his body still cramping with the phantom chains tightening around them like a serpent choking the life out of its prey.

Despite everything the smell of fresh, chilly damp air... Refreshes him.

He feels lighter. Cleaner. Content.

He takes a deep breath and for a moment... Everything is... Okay.

He opens his mouth, trying to breathe in the humidity of the air, hoping it will help with the soreness in his throat.

"I thought you hated the rain?"

"I don't hate the rain, I hate getting wet. My fur gets all heavy and takes forever to dry, and if I use a towel, it makes it all poofy, and the others tease me."

"I see."

"But I like watching the rain. And the smell of rain... It smells... Like the sky's cleaning the earth. Making everything as good as new again."

And then... Everything comes rushing back to him.

Like an anvil falling onto his chest, and it's hard to breathe as he chokes on a loud, surprised sob. Tears invade his eyes, flowing down his face onto the pillow.

Nothing is okay. That peace he felt... Just a cruel trick of his mind, making him forget.

A momentary respite before the world came crashing back down on him. He can never be content again. Never be okay or at peace.

He is angry. Frustrated. Grieving. Confused about what he's grieving. Their deaths? Their souls are trapped eternally in a hellish limbo, re-living their deaths so that they can feel the same pain he had felt for thousands of years... That's what he'd wanted.

For them to suffer.

And yet still his chest hurts and his lungs are heaving, and his cries are so loud he has to turn his face into the pillow to muffle them. Why does this anguish for his family that turned against him haunt him now?

It must be this body. This pathetic mortal body with its hyper-sensitive emotions, and non-existent pain tolerance. It's done nothing but weigh him down, dragging him below the waves.

Drowning him in sensations, feelings, and emotions he doesn't understand. Suffocating him in pain, and grief that he can see no end to. This form betrays him at every turn and it's not even been 42 hours.

At least he thinks it hasn't been.

Most of his first day is a haze, he remembers sleeping through the pain for the most part. Then arguing with the Lamb through the barricade. Then sleeping again.

After of course, contemplating his inevitable starvation. And after speaking to the lamb again...

"Can I ask again if you're okay?"

They're going to bring him breakfast soon. He doesn't know if they'll come inside and set it down or just leave it on the ground outside for him.

Would he even be able to go get it?

It's now that he starts to realize some of the pain has subsided. Everything is still cramping, and his head still throbbing, but with the smell of the rain and the growling of his stomach...

He's able to turn onto his back and only has to stop for a minute to grit his teeth and breathe for a moment. The fur around his eyes and cheeks is still wet with tears, and his chest is still heavy. He tries to focus on the smell of rain, but it does little to ease his thoughts.

All it does is remind him of simpler times.

Before the pain, and the headache, and the nausea, and the humiliation of defeat still burning through his veins.

It's getting brighter in the room, and he's able to take a deep stuttered breath as his eyes close to block out the painful light of morning. He should get the sniffling under control before the lamb gets here.

The last thing he needs is for that malicious sheep to know he's been crying- because Narinder knows that the damned creature is too old to still be considered a lamb. Has been since before the bishops ever went to execute them, but he knows his siblings never cared for technicalities.

Hell at some point they probably even started enjoying committing mass genocide of all sheep to prevent his freedom. Rams, ewes, and lambs, none were spared. All precautions taken to keep him locked away... They must have hated him so much to turn so ruthless. To become feared monsters, rather than beloved gods.

All to keep him caged.

By the time the sun has risen and the room is painfully bright, like clockwork, the lamb is knocking on the 'door' of the shelter.

"Narinder? Are you awake? I still don't know exactly what you like to eat, so I brought you a mixed meal. I see you didn't eat the fish, so I'll throw that out I guess..." They call, and he struggles not to groan.

He had kind of wanted that fish. He liked fish and it's been a long... Long time since he's had the chance to eat any. But what the hell was he supposed to do? He couldn't fucking move.

And he was still standing strong on not asking for help from his usurper.

He could move a bit more today though. He could at least try and sit up and eat... Then again, he doubts he'll be able to move the dresser out of the way to grab the food.

He could ask the lamb to bring it inside as a plan B. That doesn't count as helping him. Right? But does he want the lamb to see him in this state?

Absolutely not.

So he's back to plan A. Starve.

Sounds good enough for him. Or at least it does until his stomach decided to growl obnoxiously loud.

"See! I knew you were hungry! Please, just come take the damn bowl, I don't want to leave it on the ground, the bugs or birds might get it! Or Theeno. He steals food a lot. I'm working on that." So they are going to make another fight out of this.

"I'll come and get it when I'm ready! And if your damn follower tries to nab it then he can expect my claws across his face!" He hisses, and the Lamb lets out an exaggerated sigh.

"You're getting on my nerves, Narinder, can I at least just come in and set it down?" Hm. An opening for plan B... He still doesn't want the Lamb to see him...

He's buried mostly in blankets and pillows, so if he tosses his aching body back towards the window, he doubts the Lamb would truly get a good look at him...

And then your back will be exposed, clear as day for a second knife to find purchase.

He tries to shake away the insecurity, and it's not hard when his stomach growls once more. What's the worst the sheep could do? Kill him? It's what he wants anyway.

Is it?

He just barely holds in a painful groan as he turns back onto his side, curling even further into himself as he does.

"Fine. But I'm not getting up, move the dresser yourself." He calls, only mildly breathless, as he tries to steady his breathing again.

"Great! I was kinda gonna come in anyway if you didn't respond." Oh, if he could move...

He might take his chances trying to wring their neck.

Instead, he clenches his teeth to keep the anger from seething out and keeps his ears tuned into the sound of the dresser being easily shoved aside, the sound of wood grating against wood.

"Okie-Doki, I'll just put this right here. That okay?" He can feel their black beady eyes on him, with their burning red pupils.

"Whatever, it's fine. Make sure you put that dresser back on your way out." He grumbles, flinching only slightly when hears the lamb step closer to him.

At the clear sight of said flinch they stop moving.

"Of course. Anything else you need? Are you okay? I was thinking about building a few upgrades onto your shelter since you clearly don't plan on leaving, and I can see having to use the bathroom becoming a problem in the near future. And bathing."

Right. Of course, this body is going to need to use the bathroom. And even when he was a little godling, he needed to bathe regularly. He hasn't had a bath since before he was imprisoned.

Poor Aym and Baal. standing beside a god that reeked of blood and death for all that time. He had grown jaded to the stench of death, but he was still aware that it must not be pleasant.

"Do whatever you want, so long as you don't disturb me." It would make it more convenient for his solitude, and prevent him from having to bite the bullet and ask for help to be carried to the outhouses- because he was not going to shit himself anytime soon.

God or not, he had to keep some of his dignity intact.

"Right, no disturbing your wallowing, got it. I'll set to those renovations ASAP, I'll even do them myself so none of the followers accidentally annoy you and get killed." He snorts at that. Almost laughs.

"Wise decision."

And like that, his dresser is being pulled back into place, with what sounds like little to no effort.

...

His stomach growls again.

Now to get this body to sit up and eat...

... This is going to take a while.

[mantisgodiveblog]

Hello, viewers. When we last left off, we were hanging out in the House, waiting for us and our party to eventually be frozen in time in a glorious rest period labelled "victory is impossible, but there is absolutely nothing actually forcing us to loop back, so we're just going to wander about and continue to explore and poke around at things like normal until the inevitable creep of the Curse gets us, because we have friends who we might like to chat with and a sudden lack of responsibility or formal time pressure, so there's no real reason to loop until forced".

Unfortunately, we are also playing a video game that will not let us simply hang out in the House of Change until the creeping Time Freeze eventually Gets us, and we must unfortunately succumb to the scripted events. Waste of life, honestly. Life, and a whole bunch of free time we could've used to get information that might be useful next loop.

Maybe if Siffrin responded to things in reasonable ways and took rest stops and other such things they would not get into whatever wretched little spiral eventually traps them. We know that this is a lot to ask of a mildly suicidal idiot who just gained the ability to euthanize themself with zero consequences, but still.

What a pointless death.

(Part 20 is here)

Ah, Loop. Well, good to know that we can spend our most precious memories to loop forward in time, we guess...? In-universe, is this just us bargaining our memories to go against the loop's will? We don't think Siffrin has a lot of those to spare, honestly. No wonder they've got a sieve brain if they're sacrificing memories to go forward in time.

We don't actually trust the vague mechanisms of time to know how to distinguish useful memories from useless ones, the same way we don't actually trust people to divide "useful" from "useless" in other things. It's always A Useless Trinket until you actually need it for something, and things that are discarded are far harder to get back than things that are simply lying about the place, waiting to be picked up.

Lazy we may be, but we always enjoy poking everything. We are looping back to Dormont.

[moonswolfie]

Rice Ball Rival

Timeskip!Osamu x Onigiri shop owner!Reader

My first multi-chapter work!! I really hope I do well and it seems a little daunting but I'll do my best😤❤️ Also yeah, it's only 5 chapters long because my brain cannot to dedicate itself to anything at all

I will warn you, I use swear words occasionally

Time for some enemies to lovers now ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

(I actually had to research onigiri flavours and fillings, still might not be the most accurate, so if anyone happens to know more about onigiri or japanese cuisine in general don't be afraid to correct me 😊)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

CHAPTER 1: It's just buisness

"One kombu and one ume onigiri coming right up!" you yelled happily, placing the food on the table. You went back behind the counter, smiling happily, watching the customers dig into the food from the corner of your eye.

It always makes you indescribably happy to see people enjoying your food. Whether it was your friends, loved ones or complete strangers.

It was really close to closing time right now and the two ladies were the last people at your place before you're closing up shop as scheduled.

As you were putting away some kitchen appliances, you overheard the two ladies talking.

"See, I told you it was good!"

"Yeah, but like, the umeboshi ones are WAYYY better at Onigiri Miya."

There it is again. That wretched Onigiri Miya.

The thing you least expected after finally opening your own onigiri place was for a completely new place to open a year after yours. In your area, too. At first you really didn't pay too much attention to it, but then people started talking about it in your restaurant and you even lost some loyal customers to that mysterious onigiri place.

You sighed, cleaning the kitchen counter with an old shirt of yours. It's only natural that some will prefer one place over the other if they're in the same area, but it made it tougher for your buisness to stay afloat. And that's never a good thing.

You'll never forgive the person who owns Onigiri Miya for stealing the precious old lady who came in for onigiri every so often, though. Or any other customer for that matter.

Hideaki, your employee, yelled from the exit that he's leaving and you yelled bye back. You're always the last one left in the restaurant, which is obvious since you're the owner, but it always felt a little depressing seeing the place completely empty.

You worry that this might become your fate if Onigiri Miya keeps stealing your customers.

"We're done with our food! Thank you!" you heard one of the ladies yell, and you exited the kitchen to see them off, thanking them for visiting.

As you watched them exit through the door, your smile faded. You returned to your tasks when they were completely out of your vision.

You cleaned up anything else you had time for, changing into normal clothes and then locked the place up. The final step was switching the sign on the door from open to closed. You smiled at your restaurant, your pride and joy, one last time before turning around to go home.

Only to find a flyer for Onigiri Miya when you turned the corner.

...That asshole. Advertising their own place right next to yours?! That's playing dirty!

If you weren't pissed before, now you are. You're getting sick of hearing about it everywhere and now you have to look at it on your way home, too?

You know what, you don't have to look at it. You ripped the flyer off the lamp post, about to tear it to shreds when you noticed something. Onigiri Miya closes one hour after your place.

Even if you wanted absolutely nothing to do with Onigiri Miya, you did end up becoming curious as to what their onigiri tastes like. You hesistated. Should you go to Onigiri Miya, just to test out their onigiri? It would satiate your curiosity, but you would be giving your direct competitor money.

You're free today, so you do have the time, but is it worth it? What if something happens? Surely not... You stood there, staring at the flyer for a few minutes.

Sighing, you decided to take the plunge as you walked further down the street. It'll just be one time, and then never again. Then you'll go back to being competitors. If anything, this is intel on your opponent.

Besides, they don't have to know who you are. Soon, you found yourself in front of the restaurant, taking a deep breath. The entrance had a big "Miya" kanji written on it, so there was no way anyone would mistake the place for something else. It looked quite homey, atleast from the outside.

You walked in, immediately hit by the scent of onigiri. It's a scent you're very familiar with but it's always so invigorating when you smell it. It feels like home to you.

"Welcome!" you heard someone yell from the kitchen. That quickly reminded you that you're in enemy territory. You acted like an innocent customer, sitting down at the table and browsing the menu inconspicuously. Huh, they have some interesting fillings here.

Maybe you should, uhhh, get inspired by some of them and add them to your menu. If they can steal your customers, you can steal their fillings, right? Since you're supposed to be a normal customer though, you should probably stop grinning mischeviously at the menu.

You heard someone's footsteps approaching and you looked up to find a surprisingly buff man around your age with black hair and grey eyes looking down at you.

He had an apron with the Onigiri Miya logo on it so he must be an employee at least. "Welcome, what wouldya like ta order?" A Kansai dialect, huh? He must not be from here. Not that it matters, you have onigiri to order.

"I'll have the ume one, and one nori tsukidani one." you decided to prove the lady from your shop wrong and try a completely new flavour that's not yet on your menu while you're at it.

"Got ya." he smiled at you, walking back behind the counter and into the kitchen. When he left, you looked back at the menu, comparing it to yours.

It's got quite a bit of variety, but if the variety came at the expense of the flavour then you wouldn't be losing so many customers. What a frustrating thing Onigiri Miya is.

You quickly got lost in thought, thinking of how to improve your menu and new onigiri fillings. So much so that you didn't even notice the plate of food being placed in front of you.

"...Are ya good?" the mystery guy asked, looking at your spaced out expression with concern. You quickly snapped out of it, assuring him you're fine. That was embarrasing, but he's just some stranger that you'll never see again, right? Since this restaurant visit is a one-time thing. So no worries.

One thing you noticed right off the bat is that the rice balls here are bigger. But that's just because the guy's hands are bigger.

You picked up the umeboshi-filled rice ball, blowing on it to cool it down before taking a bite. Wow, you hate to admit it, but this actually tastes great. The rice is nice and firm and isn't overcooked and the sour flavor of the umeboshi compliments it well. There's a good amount of filling, too.

You furrowed your brows, staring at the rice ball. You're really mad that it's this good. Normally you wouldn't be mad about good food, but this is your direct competitor we're talking about.

Suddenly, you feel inspired to improve your recipes, to change up your menu, maybe even branch out. You devour the rest of the ume onigiri, not wanting to let the amazing flavour distract you from the sudden burst of inspiration.

You quickly reach for the nori tsukidani-filled rice ball, taking an experimental bite immediately. The onigiri has a rich, complex flavour to it. It almost makes you jealous of the owner of this place, and you hate it. It's not that you don't think your onigiri can't possibly compete with theirs, but the fact that you now know that people's claims of Onigiri Miya being better aren't unfounded only fuels your desire for revenge.

You swallowed the onigiri with vigor, walking over to the counter with fast, determined footsteps. You're so taking out your cookbook when you get home.

The guy behind the counter seemed to notice your strange expression. "Seriously, are ya good? Ya scarved down those onigiris like yer goin' through an intense break up." he asked half jokingly.

"I assure you, I am perfectly fine." you fiddled with your wallet, taking out your credit card and placing it on the table.

"If ya say so." he took it, handing you the bill. And they're fairly priced, too! Dammit, Onigiri Miya! You simply can't wait to best them now. As you walked out, already planing the next 20% off promotion, you heard an employee approach the man at the counter.

"Miya-san, where do I take these boxes?"

Wait... but this means....

He's the owner?!

Idk how it happened but I got an error and lost a big chunk of this fic and had to rewrite it (T_T)

Sometimes I hate tumblr istg