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heavenlyraindrops · 8 months ago

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♱Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Fifteen♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Fifteen Warnings: profanity, violence, gore Visit the first tag on this post to see all other chapters.

♱ In which the purest soul in Heaven falls from grace… for the Devil. ♱

[Chapter Fifteen]

Your knees knocked against the floor as two exorcists hauled you in by the arms into Sera’s office. Your arms smarted in their vice-like grip. She stood outside the window, wings spread, her silhouette a terrifying shadow, an omen of what was to come. The sky was darkening, and Heaven’s city lights glowed past her dark figure.

The exorcists let off of your arms and you yelped as you landed in a heap onto the floor. Sera’s wings fluttered slightly as she turned, and you drew your own in protectively.

“You may leave,” came the order, directed at the two angels behind you. They turned on their heels, footsteps clacking smartly out before the door shut.

You looked down at the floor.

You heard Sera sigh. “Oh, [name]. What happened to you?” Her voice cut into your heart, patronizing and disappointed. Your wings twitched with the emotions raging through your gut.

“She’s become a fucking slut, is what’s happened to her,” a voice spat from the shadows. You looked up to see Lute step out, into the twinkling lights glistening past the window. Your heart tore as you saw Emily behind her, hands clasped together so hard her knuckles had turned white. Her face was ashen as she stepped farther away into the darkness.

Lute’s golden eyes turned to you, accusing, and she tossed something at the table. It glinted in the half-light before landing with a clink.

The bracelet.

Sera clasped her hands together in front of her as she turned towards you, away from the window and stepped towards you, painfully slow and deliberate. She stopped before your huddled form and another slow sigh escaped her lips.

“Can you explain this to us, [name]?”

You opened your mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words. Your eyes searched here for any emotion, any sadness, regret, something you could latch onto and convince Sera to let you go.

“Well?” Lute snarled.

You shuddered. “No.”

Lute whirled to Sera, fists clenched and eyes blazing as she thrust out her remaining hand towards you. “See this? This is why we need to get rid of her. A dumb whore like her that would trade away her virtue for sex-“

“Lute,” Emily said shakily.

“-I say cut off her wings, take her halo and cast her down into the pit where she belongs.”

Emily placed her hands over her mouth, shoulders shaking as she watched Lute and Sera look at each other, then you.

Suddenly a blow of pain struck you full in the face. You fell back, feeling hot blood drip down your nose and lips, a metallic tang in your mouth. The area seared with agony.

Lute had kicked you.

“[name]!” Emily screamed, dashing towards you and collapsing down onto her knees next to where you hunched over, shaking. You gasped, palms spread on the floor to steady yourself, hair handing in front of your face as you watched golden drops of blood drip onto the pristine floor. Emily’s small hands smoothed down your back, her voice stuttering out concerned questions, but you couldn’t hear them.

She pulled you up, gripping you by the shoulders. You noticed tears glistening in her eyes. “[name], say something!” She cried, shaking you. “Anything.” Her arms slid down yours and fell back to her lap defeatedly. “Did you… is this real?”

Blood burned sweet in your mouth. You swiped your thumb across your split lip, and the gilded liquid smeared.

“Yes.”

The single word dripped with your shattered dignity. Emily recoiled. She looked up at Sera pleadingly, eyes wide with horror. Sera stared back, expression saying:

I told you so.

Your vision drifted to Lute, who’s fists were still clenched and shoulders squared.

A single tear tracking down her face.

Emily’s arms flew around you again. “Still! She doesn’t deserve to be treated like this, no matter what she did…” her pleading face turned to you. Sera closed her eyes, which had become bloodshot from tears that she hadn’t allowed to fall, and let out a shuddery breath.

Why was everyone crying, except you?

“It’s just love,” Emily’s voice snapped you back to reality. “How can you punish her for being in love?” You hung your head and pulled away from her. As you broke contact, a cold feeling settled over you like a heavy blanket. Emily was shaking even harder now, speaking through her sobs. “Please, Sera. Please, don’t let her fall.

“Emily,” Sera snapped, voice loud and harsh and clear as she wrenched the younger Seraphim up by the hand. “Preserve your dignity. Do not give it away for someone who has none.” Her eyes fell to you accusingly. Emily looked down, tears still dripping down her cheeks. All the hope drained from your body. Sera wasn’t on your side.

Lute stepped forward, her face hidden by her hair as she looked down. She tilted her head up and you caught a glimpse of her expression: cold, stoic- she didn’t want to give away any emotions.

“Do it, Sera,” she sneered. Sera heaved another sigh. Emily let out a small, broken sob as Sera released her hand and walked forward towards you.

“Rise, [name].”

You didn’t move.

“Rise!”

Lute grabbed you by your collar and pulled up. You coughed as it cut off your airways and scrambled to your feet. “Get up, fucker.”

Sera folded her wings against her back neatly and pressed her hands together. “You have committed a sin, [name],” she sighed. “Multiple sins. And normally we would make you repent,” she sighed, waving her hand dismissively, “but the mere act of creating a- union-“ she spat the words- “With Lucifer Morningstar himself, is unforgivable. We trusted you, [name], to restrain yourself. And it would be very unfair to cast Lilith out but not you.”

A snake of fear coiled inside your stomach.

Sera flicked her hand again, and a searing portal cut through the air to open a rift. You could see the red sky beyond. The snake coiled tighter.

“Lute,” she ordered. “Cut off her wings.”

Your heart seized. “What?”

Sera’s eyes narrowed. “It’s a necessary procedure, [name].” You stumbled back, wings drawing into your back.

“Bullshit,” you gasped. Lute reached for you with her one good hand.

The dam broke.

You let out a piercing, desperate scream as you jerked away from Lute, tears streaming down your face. Emily let out a whimper at your crazed reaction, but Sera shut her up with a single glare. Lute struck out with her spear and your foot caught over it as you crashed to the floor. You groaned, heaving yourself up, but Lute planted her foot on your back and shoved you down. You gasped for air, unable to breath, and your wings flapped crazily, sending up a flurry of feathers.

Something stabbed through the tip of your wing and you let out another blood curdling scream as golden blood pooled onto the floor. You entire body went limp. Your wing twitched, Lute’s spear still skewered through it, and Lute placed her foot on the other one, preventing it from moving.

“Lute,” you gasped. Lute’s foot was trembling on your back. “Please, don’t- I thought- I thought we could have been friends-“

Lute bit back a sob and you froze, not expected that from her. Emily began crying again, muttering the same thing over and over like a mantra.

“I can’t watch this, I can’t watch this, I can’t, I can’t watch thi-“

Sera took her hand and guided her out of the room. She turned her head away, away from your wretched state. “I can’t watch this either,” Sera said.

“You’re the one who ordered this!” You screamed after her back. She ignored you.

Once Emily had disappeared through the door Sera paused, addressing Lute who still had her back turned to her, instead opting to glare down at you who lay on the floor.

“Make it quick,” Sera said briskly, refusing to meet your gaze. “I’ve infused the blade with a magic that won’t let her wings regrow.”

Lute didn’t reply, too fixated on you.

The door closed, and then you were truly alone.

A/N: had real fun writing this one folks

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slay00ryu · 1 month ago

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KC gang when they find out their artist partner drew them in their sketchbooks :3

This is cute!!!

Murderous sketches, dangerous praises.

Real names of the characters spoiled!!!!

goreboy | Ronin Beaufort

You and Ronin have been together for a while now, he inspires you so much, that almost half of your sketchbook is filled with Ronin alone.

One day when Ronin decided to pay you a visit, you left him alone in your room for five minutes. You forgot to put your sketchbook away, and he found it. You entered the room again and almost dropped your cup of tea.

"Ronin, what are you holding?"

You asked, looking at him with widened eyes as he just casually looked through the sketches...

"Why so shy? You should've told me that you would love me to pose for you."

He smirked, the typical cocky smirk you see every day of the week, but this time there was a tinge of appreciation in that look he gave you.

Ronin felt proud, his lover was this talented and took their time to draw him? This almost made his heart flutter.

He stood up from the bed and walked up to them, leaning closer.

"You're skilled darlin', makes me proud to be your muse."

He whispered against your lips, catching them in a slow and deliberate kiss. When the kiss broke you shot him a glare and crossed your arms over your chest.

"You're so annoying Beaufort."

You scoffed and then a smirk replaced your scowl.

"You will model for me from now on, and you don't have a say here."

Angelic | Maria de la Rosa

You were drawing mindlessly on your tablet, you didn't even realise what, or who you were drawing.

You were drawing your girlfriend, Maria, as a seraphim. She looked absolutely ethereal, and you couldn't stop yourself from making the drawing just perfection. You couldn't fumble Angel with a half assed drawing, now could you?

While you were drawing, you didn't realise that there was someone watching your artistic creation over your shoulder, at least until that very person slipped your headphones off and leaned in to kiss your cheek.

"Love? What- When did you come back?"

You asked, totally surprised and flustered. Your drawing was discovered and you made extra sure to hide it! Ugh so embarassing.

"Aw, why are you so flustered? It's beautiful."

Angel giggled sweetly and took your tablet from your hands.

"The wings are so perfect and that halo that has dozens of eyes on it? You really are something you know?"

Angel's praise made your cheeks feel warm and your gaze to shy away.

"It's because I have an amazing muse..."

You mumbled. Maria titled your head up, the look in her eyes warm and full of love.

"I'm happy to be your muse love, so very happy."

K9 | Valetin Valjoen

You were sitting in Valentin's home, sketching him in a notebook. You were supposed to write something in it, but remembering how breathtaking V looked in his hair put up in a bun, you just had to draw it.

You were looking at him from time to time, he was tending to a dog and didn't pay you any mind. Or so you thought.

You forgot that V is very observative and nothing would escape him, not even your short and very secretive glances. So it surprised you when Valentin suddenly joined you on the couch and looked over your shoulder. You tried to close the notebook but he was faster.

"My love, this is..."

V was flustered, you could see that blush spread all over his face, and somehow it made your embarrassment disappear. Seeing your boyfriend flustered was always something you looked forward do.

"Do you like it?"

You asked, leaning your head on V's shoulder.

"Yes. The lines are perfect and I can see how hard you were working."

He said, but you could hear that pause, like he wanted to say more.

"Aaaand?"

You asked with a sweet and innocent voice.

"And I think that you captured me almost too perfectly."

V finished the sentence, looking away from the drawing all red and blushy.

"If you'd like to I can show you more. I have plenty in my place. I even have a whole painting."

You said and giggled when you saw V's surprised expression. God, he's so adorable like that.

hitmeuppp | Misaki

"What are you doinggg?"

You heard Misaki's voice through the speakers in your computer. You looked up at them from the doodles you were making of them.

"Uhm not much, just drawing while you're talking."

You said and looked down at the small doodles.

Misaki talking, Misaki sitting and being grumpy, Misaki with a chainsaw.

Well her stories get your imagination going so it's obvious that you would get to drawing. Your whole graphic tablet was filled with Misaki, be it doodles or full pieces. You just enjoyed drawing them very much.

Maybe even too much... Seeing how your commissioners are getting impatient...

"Show! Show!"

They exclaimed happily.

"Okay, but promise that you won't laugh..."

You said and after receiving reasurement you shown her the doodles.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygodomgodohmygod!!!"

You could hardly make out the words "oh my god" from Misaki's excited squeak.

"They're so cute!!! Do you have more?"

You smiled at their childish excitement.

"Yeah, I have some more. Why? Wanna see?"

"Why are you asking? Show me everything!"

It was hard to disagree with Misaki's wants, especially when they gave you the biggest puppy eyes ever.

"Of course I will, you dork."

#killer chat #killer chat ronin #v killer chat #angel killer chat #misaki killer chat #fluff #asks #gender neutral reader #fanfic

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izvmimi · 11 months ago

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Satoru looks somewhere between mischievous and pensive when you finally show up to the coffee shop, the door chimes heralding your arrival in a way that is far more grand in his head than it would be to the nearest patron or passerby.

But in his head, there might as well be a spotlight shining upon you at all times, or rather a halo above your head. He smiles as you look around, the quick, bashful turns of your head far too cute for him to handle without his affection for you tugging at the corners of his lips.

Yes, a halo is correct, he thinks.

You find him eventually, by position hidden in the back corner of the shop, but realistically with his striking and hauntingly beautiful appearance, he’s always too noticeable. You sigh, pretending to look somewhat annoyed with him, just enough that he falls off his high horse a little, but not enough to bruise his ego. After all, you like him.

... You love him.

“Hopefully it’s something important if it was enough to have you text me so many times during the work day.”

Gojo practically beams, leaning forward, his face propped up by fists pressed into his cheeks. It's an inanely cute action for a man with such a grand presence, with such a silly amount of power and authority.

“Seeing you is important regardless of the reason, duh.” With that, he gently boops your nose and you’re embarrassed, looking around quickly to see who saw, and more ashamed still when you’re unable to stop the warming of your features.

“Can you act normal for a minute?” you find yourself compelled to ask, to which Gojo simply replies, “No.”

You sigh, but Gojo is asking you for your coffee order, and you oblige, grumpily. The morning’s been busy and a coffee break is just what you need, and you have to admit that banter with Satoru is something you live for. He keeps your cup full in a variety of ways after all, and this is just one of them.

He returns quickly, setting down a steaming cup before you. He waits for you to take a sip, blue eyes carefully posed on the way your lips settle around the cup, in a way that makes you feel a little too watched, a little too wanted, but you’re in public and you behave as such.

Once you’re done and you’re raising an eyebrow at him, he’s pulling out a book and placing it at the center of the table. It looks old, worn, akin to a well-loved teddy bear.

“Open it,” he asks.

The first image is a drawing of a girl, sat with a book in hand and back pressed against a cherry blossom tree, the petals of which swirl around her hair, and in seconds you realize it’s you.

You blink, then turn to look at him, then look back at the drawing. It’s from afar in its vantage point and your body is so small against the backdrop, but you remember where it was, when it was, and can practically read the complex emotions off of your once teenage self’s face.

He drew it off of memory.

“Satoru…”

You look at the beautifully rendered image, fingers tracing gently at the placement of granite lines, the careful shading.

“It’s one of the first times I ever really tried to draw you. I found it this morning, and I wanted you to see it.”

Your chest swells with something warm and you can feel it bubble to your lash line.

“You remember that day still, don’t you?” you ask, your voice too soft, too serious, in this very public place. He still hears you loud and clear regardless.

“That and every other day I’ve spent with you.”

@strawberrystepmom

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #daydreams: jjk #mimi's notes #mimi writes: sudden love confessions

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comfybutter · 4 months ago

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Sanae scowled and bit her lower lip, staring down at the notebook page. She spun her pen around thumb and caught it, then turned it behind her middle finger and flicked it around her index, and caught it again. Behind some walls, Reimu and Marisa grumbled and argued about something while pots and pans clanged and sizzled.

“Writing?” Tsukasa asked, walking beside Sanae and sitting down, book in hand.

Sanae hummed. “Trying to!”

“Write them making out.”

“That was last chapter, though.” Sanae clicked the pen in her hand and drew a sharp line through her last sentence. And suddenly, Tsukasa perked up, her ears straightening to attention.

“Hm? Is something wrong?”

“Uh, no I-”

Sanae clicked her pen shut and closed her notebook around it, saving her place. And again, Tsukasa leaned forward a bit and her tail flicked.

“Hmm?”

Tsukasa sort of blinked up at Sanae.

“Oh!” Sanae laughed heartily and grabbed her pen once more. “Really? This noise works too?” She clicked it open, and Tsukasa gave an excited pant. “Ok, sit.”

It was quiet for a moment. “Uh, Sanae I’m already sitting down.”

“Then roll over. Do a barrel roll!”

Tsukasa smiled and rolled onto her back so she was looking up at Sanae, clumpy hair spread around her head like a halo.

“Good fox!” Sanae said, clicking the pen closed and petting her hair. “Wanna have sex?”

Tsukasa blinked. “Here at the Hakurei Shrine?”

“Mhm!” Sanae nodded. “Not like Marisa’ll care, and it’s nothing Reimu and her haven’t done right in the middle of parties.”

“Yeah. Can I uh- can I hear the pen a couple more times?”

Sanae answered yes by clicking the pen open.

#oil fire #tsukasa kudamaki #sanae kochiya #do a barrel roll amiright??#comfy ficlets

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chairofchaos · 4 months ago

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Roots & Offshoots

Pairing: Eris x Fem!Reader (no y/n use, and we’re trying ‘x Reader’ again, folks!) Summary: Eris Vanserra, family man and defender of children, loves his family and his people very much. A slice of domestic life through the eyes of Eris Vanserra’s mate. For Day 2 of Eris Week: Childhood & Legacy (I'm double dipping lol) @erisweekofficial Rating: Teen Word Count: 2.5k Tags & Warnings: Fluffy, with tiny angsty moments, discussions, and allusions. Ends on a happy note! Warnings for Beron Vanserra; abuse, violence (discussed) A/N: Happy Day 2 of Eris Week! Hopefully, this hits the spot with a little fluff. Thank you to @tsunami-of-tears for the gorgeous dividers!

“Daddy, will you tell me a bedtime story?”

Your husband pretended to consider for a moment, the candle beside your daughter’s bed casting a halo of golden light against his red hair and around her head.

“I suppose we have a bit of time,” he winked at her conspiratorially. You watched from just outside the door, having given her a hug, kiss, and a bedtime story already. She would hear any story you and Eris would tell her, and nag you for more besides, so it wasn’t uncommon for you to read her more than one a night.

“What do you want to read tonight?”

“I want to know what you were like when you were little, like how Mommy talks about the park and the puppy and her friends.”

“Ah,” he said, adjusting his positioning on the edge of her bed. “Well, let’s see.”

Your daughter didn’t know to look for the subtle twitch of his hand, or the tightening of his jaw. She didn’t know the tells that Eris had, the quiet strength which held back centuries of heartache. She only knew her father as the loving man he displayed in your home. She knew him as the “best hugger in the world,” as she had insisted you caption the picture she drew him for his birthday. As the kisser of her scrapes and cuts from falling out of a tree in the forest. As the one who held her hand when she walked through the streets of the city. Her “favorite Daddy,” as she said every day. “You’re my favorite. My favorite Daddy.”

“Do you have another?” he would ask, his eyes twinkling with mirth. His response never changed, but hers would.

“No. Which means you’re my extra special favorite,” she had explained one rainy morning. “I only have one. Which makes you extra special.”

He had cried that day. He had smiled, and kept it together until she left, holding your niece’s hand as they walked to school together, lunches in hand. When the front door clicked, he spun, tears streaming down his face. It had healed something in him, he told you, something that had felt broken and hopeless even after she had been born.

Her love meant everything to him, to the man whose father had hardly cared to use his name unless it was to berate him with a sneer.

“Let’s see,” he smoothed her blanket up to her shoulders, smiling. “Can I tell you a story about me and Uncle Lucien?”

“No,” she pouted. “Uncle Lucien was a baby when you were big. He said so. I want to know what you were like when you were little like me.”

He faltered for just a moment before yielding to her request. “Let’s see. How about a story about me and Mamé?”

“Yes!” she giggled, wiggling beneath her blankets. She clutched a small plush hound beneath her chin, its ear worn. She had carried it around every day for the first four years of her little life. On occasion, you still saw it in her hand as she skipped through the house singing to herself.

“In the time of Bran, when the leaves were red and the wind sweet, the fire warm and welcoming, there lived a faeling named Eris, and his mother.”

“And that was Mamé, right, Daddy?”

“Yes, love,” Eris chuckled. “They lived in a little house in the woods, with a stream behind the house. Every day, they woke up and went to the stream, and splashed around until they were soaking wet. Sometimes, Eris’ aunt and uncle would come, and they would splash around, too. And the four of them would lay in the grass by the house in the woods and eat the forest berries and drink cream from the neighbor’s cow. The neighbors were our friends, and would come for supper. Mother would cook, and Eris would set the table.”

“Like Mommy taught me?”

“Yes, sweetheart. Like Mommy taught you.”

“Fork, plate, knife, spoon,” your daughter recited.

“Just like that,” Eris smirked, tapping the tip of her nose with a slender finger. “Smart girl.”

She giggled. “Was Eris good at setting the table?”

Eris twisted his face in a show of thinking very hard about her question. “No,” he decided with a wink in your direction. “He was very, very bad at setting the table, because he didn’t pay attention to where he was going and broke plates almost every day.”

“Every day?”

“Almost,” he nodded solemnly. “But he was very little, and his mother fixed the broken plates until he learned.”

“That’s nice of her.”

“It was very nice of her.”

“Did she yell?”

Eris paled just slightly. “No. She never yelled, Calliope.”

“That’s good. You don’t yell either, Daddy. My friend’s daddy yells all the time.”

“Hmm,” Eris said. “Well. I hope she’s okay.”

“She is. She says it’s scary.”

“I’m sure it is. Sweetheart, can you tell me and Mommy more about that in the morning?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good. Now, where was I?”

You turned down the hallway. He would be another few minutes, but you couldn’t keep standing in the hall. It had been a long day, interactions with courtiers, staff, and . You didn’t mind taking some of the responsibilities for Eris on occasion, especially if it meant he could get away for moments like this.

One or two more letters wouldn’t hurt tonight. The rest could wait until morning, after the children had come for breakfast and left for school, the small pack of them all.

It had been one of Eris’ first decisions after your marriage. Your nieces and nephews descended on the house for breakfast every morning before lessons. He cooked with the staff more often than not, you, your siblings and one of the two brothers whom he had reconciled with, and all their spouses, crowded around the dining room table while your mate brought out the food each morning. He loved cooking, one of the few joys he held onto through his tumultuous younger years.

Over the years, the number of children had grown, and you had expanded the dining room to fit everyone. Now, Calliope joined them, cooking with Eris before going off to school every day. She had asked if one or two of her friends could join, and soon, more than half her class was at your house for breakfast. It was just as well. Her cousins were older than her, and she enjoyed the company. It also resulted in her being exposed to families outside your own, with a greater variety of company. You all were invited to dinner at least once a week at the houses of various classmates, and it afforded you and Eris the ability to feel normal, even if some of the motivation behind the invitations was likely the bragging rights of dining with the High Lord and his family.

Calliope enjoyed it, her ruddy cheeks bright as she skipped ahead with bows in her hair. “Mommy, look!” she cried on one occasion, a moth fluttering in the bushes at the roadside. “It’s pretty!”

“It’s very pretty, Callie,” you agreed. She reached out a chubby hand, giggling.

“Let’s not touch it,” Eris called. “Let it fly, love. Let it fly.”

He gazed at her with such adoration, her innocence and joy at the world. That open adoration was something he rarely allowed in himself, even after his father’s death.

You turned your attention back to the letters at hand, writing until you set down your pen and reached for the ink blotter.

A strong hand settled on your shoulder as you pressed the blotter against the page, rolling it over the text you had written to the Minister of Commerce.

“Hello, sweetness,” he bent to press a kiss to your head. You hummed in acknowledgement, setting the ink blotter and the letter aside to dry.

“Hello, handsome,” you smiled up at him. He came around your chair, spinning it so you faced him as he leaned against the corner of the desk.

“Working after supper again?”

You shrugged. “You were telling an excellent story. I figured one more wouldn’t hurt.”

Eris raised an eyebrow. “If it were me, you’d be stealing the pen out of my hand.”

“I was done when you got here,” you protested. “And-”

He raised a finger, his lips twisting. The mirth you recognized earlier returned to his eyes as he corrected, “You were not done. I’ve been here since paragraph two.”

Your eyes widened, even as you smiled in jest. “Well, it’s a very important letter.”

“Ah. A very important letter, you say,” he bowed to look you levelly in the eyes, his nose inches from yours. “More important than sleep?”

You nod in mock solemnity, leaning backwards. “Much.”

“More important than your well-being?”

“Oh, entirely.”

“I must disagree with both your somethings,” he said seriously, but then returned to his teasing. “More important than your husband?”

You laugh, raising a hand to brush his cheek. “Never.”

“Never? Well, then what are you doing at that desk?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m done now,” you grinned, accepting his hand to raise yourself from the chair.

“Come to bed with me,” he wrapped his arms around your waist, dropping his head to your shoulder.

You nudged him backwards, the two of you maneuvering around to the side of the desk before releasing each other from your embrace.

“Did she like the story?” you asked, pulling him with you from the office.

“I think so,” Eris sighed. “I didn’t.”

You were silent. It was easier, he had told you once, to fill the silence rather than answer questions.

He continued, turning to his dresser, “The story was true. I wouldn’t lie to her, not outright. Not if I can truly help it. But the truth was… it was during the massacre. It was where Mother took me to avoid the bloodshed.”

You winced. The massacre of nobles under Beron’s reign was the single spot in Autumn history which had not been overshadowed in brutality by Amarantha’s slaughter. It was the single most bloody conflict in the last three thousand years, and had solidified Beron’s hold over too many things for far too long. Eris had been no more than six, and yet the stain of his father’s reign hung over him like a dense fog.

He retrieved his night clothes, tossing you a garment from his drawer. You smiled and nodded, slipping out of your evening dress and replacing it with his shirt. “Thank you.”

He smiled over his shoulder, rummaging in the drawers again. “Here,” he added, tossing you a pair of wool socks. “Your feet were freezing last night.”

You pouted. “You’re a lord of fire, it shouldn’t be a problem when I use you to warm myself.”

“You’re just using me,” he laughed. “If you want to use me for warmth, at least have the decency to cuddle me while you do it.”

“I do!” You protested. “But you were a furnace.”

“If I was a furnace, and you were cuddling me,” he crossed his arms, smirking, “then how come your feet were cold?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you slid into bed. “I don’t know what to tell you except that I am right, and you are not.”

“Well,” Eris drawled slowly. “I see we want to fight tonight.”

You smirked in return, tucking the blankets around your waist. “If by fight you mean sleep in preparation for the incredibly busy day we have tomorrow, then I have to agree. Otherwise…”

Eris inclined his head. “It is outrageously busy tomorrow. Still. I’d like to hold my wife, please.”

“Come to bed with me,” you whispered, tossing the quilt from his side of the bed. He joined you, rolling into your side with his arm around your waist. “Anything you want, sweetness.”

You both were silent. Eris extinguished the candle flames with a twitch of his finger, breathing deeply in your neck. You stroked his back gently, fingers catching on the soft cotton of his thin shirt. It was a wonder he preferred sleeping in one at all. Habits formed in childhood rarely break, you supposed.

“She’s the same age I was when the massacres happened,” Eris whispers. You nod, not stopping your gentle movements. “What legacy will I leave to her? Will she inherit his evils through me? And the harm done in my time? What will her life be, seven centuries from now?”

You sighed. “We can’t know that. But as far as I know, you haven’t slaughtered the entire nobility, adults and children alike. You care for her. You care for her friends, our family, our extended family. You love her, and me.”

He huffed a laugh. “I don’t want to hurt her.”

“I know,” you whispered. “I know. And we will, in some ways. But we do our best.”

“She told me I’m her favorite daddy again,” he laughed. “I tucked her in– like a river nymph, as always– and she said it in the sleepiest voice.”

You smiled. “She means it.”

“Do you know which friend it is she was talking about?”

“The one whose father yells?”

“Yes.”

“No,” you sighed.

Eris was protective of his daughter, and, by extension, her friends. It was no doubt Eris would have a conversation with the man if he found anything to his distaste. Eris Vanserra, defender of children. The savior he had needed as a child, come centuries too late. “I’d rather be certain of harm before we say anything at all.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I truly hope sheis alright.”

“Laws are stricter now. You could send someone, instead of getting involved yourself.”

“Don’t I owe it to Callie, to help her friend?”

“You did help her friend. You wrote those laws yourself, forced them through the council. You insisted on trained professionals in every school, to educate the children on what abuse was and what it looked like, the forms it could take. You’ve done a great deal to ensure their safety, and you did it all well before she was even born.”

“It doesn’t seem like enough.”

“Eris, this is a part of your legacy,” you nudged his cheek with your palm until he raised his head to look at you. “This is what you are giving her. This is what you leave her, greater safety for her and her peers, and an example to follow. Not a massacre, but safety. Not fear, but love.”

He nodded. “I know. I know that. It still feels too little.”

“To them, it isn’t little…”

“‘...to them, it’s everything’,” he finished the line from his own speech with a chuckle. He had said that, at the ceremony to pass the laws which now protected the children of Autumn. “Alright. I’ll let them handle it.”

“Good,” you kissed his forehead. “Now please remember that your daughter needs her favorite daddy whole and entire in the morning.”

“Her mother, too,” he poked your side until you squirmed, laughing. “Stop it!”

He kissed you gently through his smile, his hands gripping your hips as he rolled, pulling you on top of him.

“I love you,” you whispered between lazy kisses.

“I love you, sweetness.”

Taglist: @lilah-asteria @c-starstuff-man0 @unanswered-stars @dusk-muse @ninthcircleofprythian

#fictionalchaos #erisweek2024 #day 2 eris week 2024 #childhood & legacy

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demoneyecandy · 2 years ago

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When the Rain Washes You Clean, You'll Know - Part 2

Continuation of this fic

WC: 1.9k Relationship: Satan x Reader, Satan x MC AFAB reader, she/her pronouns and some gendered terms for reader Warning: Explicit, Minor Hurt/Comfort

Satan knew he would suffer for his antics later, but for now he was going to enjoy indulging in some good old-fashioned carnal sin with his new lover and giving his oldest brother an aneurysm. He was just glad she thought it was as funny as he did and was totally willing to roll with it.

They had settled on a pose where the blanket was covering her chest, her head turned to the side to display the many, many bruises littering her neck, and her hair fanned out on the pillow behind her like a halo. Her eyes were closed and her mouth just slightly parted, as though she had passed out after their encounter. To be fair, that wasn’t so far from the truth - she hadn’t felt this relaxed in ages. It was like his mouth had somehow removed all of the stress from her body. Satan was sure to save that image to his DDD for later. He was fairly certain they were together now, and he wanted nothing more than to have a souvenir of their first night together.

Maybe he’d even make it his screensaver.

The second he’d sent the picture to Lucifer, his DDD started ringing. Perfect, just the reaction he wanted. He could almost feel Lucifer’s anger flowing all the way from his study. He made sure to triple check that the door to M/C’s room was locked, and grabbed both his and his partner’s DDDs to mute and shove in her bedside drawer.

Suck it, Lucifer

Content, he settled back in to his position as the big spoon to M/C’s little spoon. When she felt his skin on hers, she sighed and relaxed back into his chest. They laid there for what felt like ages, just listening to each other’s breathing and appreciating the closeness after ages of letting their feelings go unsaid.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, gently stroking her hips with his thumbs.

“Better than I’ve felt in a long time. Thank you”. She turned in his arms to face him, placing one hand on his chest and using one to cup his face gently, bringing him in for a tender kiss.

As the kiss turned hungry, the human removed her hand from his face to trace down his body. She took a brief detour to play with his nipple. He sighed, and she made a mental note of his sensitivity for another time. Continuing downwards, she gently teased the V of his hips that she’d so admired earlier in the night. Tracing the outline with her nails, she drew small red lines and her demon seemed to melt into her. Her hand continued even further, grasping his neglected erection. The head was already leaking an impressive amount of precum, and it made her weirdly proud that he had gotten this hard from eating her out and stayed this hard just being near her, like her body was just that irresistible to him.

As the human’s grip got tighter and her strokes sped up, the demon was coming undone beside her after being denied for so long. It took all of his self-control to pull away from her mouth, guiding her to his neck.

“Mark me up, please. Bite me”.

How could she deny him when he asked so nicely? M/C did her best to oblige, kissing and licking and worrying red and purple marks all up and down the column of his throat. As she marked him, she kept steady with her pace on his cock. From the way his breath was quickening, she knew he was close.

“Did you still want to cum while you’re fucking me?”

“Yes… please… need you” the fourth-born wasn’t holding back, his moans filling her bedroom. He whined softly when she removed her hands from him and tried his best to get his breathing under control and come back from the brink. M/C wasted no time, getting up to pull a box out from under her bed.

“Would you mind wearing a condom? I was paying enough attention in biology class last semester to know you can get humans pregnant, and I’m not quite ready for that”.

“Of course” Satan’s heart quickened at the last bit of her request – not quite ready. Was he into that? He didn’t think he was into that. Well, that was something to examine later, and not when his lover was crawling across the bed to where he laid.

Handing him a condom, she watched with rapt attention as he removed the wrapper and rolled it down his length. Though she was plenty relaxed from her earlier orgasm, she really didn’t want to deal with microtears down there, so she passed him a bottle of lube as well. He eagerly popped the cap and stroked himself, more than happy to do anything that would make it easier to be inside of her asap.

“How do you want me?” she asked, and he didn’t hesitate to ask her to lay down on her back. He had plenty of fantasies where one or both of them was twisted up like a pretzel, but he needed to see her face when he pushed inside of her for the first time.

As she settled into a comfortable position, he waited with a barely contained excitement.

“You’re practically vibrating, I didn’t think you’d be this excited to get laid” she laughed.

“It’s not that I’m getting laid, it’s that it’s you I’m with. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted you like this, M/C”. His voice was kind, and he stared at her with so much adoration it almost made her uncomfortable – she still wasn’t used to having someone’s undivided attention like this. It was intense, but she wanted more.

Leaning over her, he kissed her cheek and then sat back on his knees. The human spread her legs for him, eager to feel the man’s thick length inside of her.

“I hope you know I’m probably not going to last very long, you’re very good at teasing”. She laughed a little, loving the idea that she’d gotten one of the Lords of Hell this worked up with a handjob. It made her feel powerful, and all of her earlier sadness had long since disappeared. There was only her and Satan. Her smart, articulate, weirdly shredded prankster of a …boyfriend? Lover? Partner? They could sort that out later but she was certain that this was not a one-time thing. She had gotten very good at reading him in their time together, and she saw in his eyes that this meant something to him.

“You can make it up to me next time”.

“Bet on it”. Satan grasped his length to line it up with her hole. After looking up for some kind of go-ahead, and receiving a nod, he slowly began to push into her. He watched her face contort in pleasure as she felt the pleasant stretch of his cock, feeling her body pushed to its limit in the best way. M/C couldn’t help but moan at the sensation.

“Satan, you feel so good inside of me. Put it all in, I can take it – fuck me”. It took all of Satan’s self-control to not just slam inside of her in one thrust, but he wanted to savor this moment. That, and M/C had a habit of biting off more than she could chew, and he wanted this to be a good memory for both of them.

He continued at his steady pace, finally bottoming out. The human was overwhelmed, able to feel nothing but his dick so deep inside of her she felt like she might break, but she loved it. The fullness, the growing knot in her stomach, she couldn’t imagine how good it would feel when he started moving.

“Please” she whined out, wrapping her arms around his neck and tugging him down to kiss her. He was more than happy to oblige. His thrusts were hard but slow to start, hitting the spot that made her nerves light up. As he got lost in the kiss, his thrusts got harder and faster, until M/C was holding onto him for dear life. Both of them were beyond being able to focus on anything besides what they were feeling, breaking their kiss and letting loose every sound they’d been holding back. Moans and gasps filled the room alongside the wet slapping sound of Satan driving his cock into her as hard as he thought her body could take.

“I love you, please tell me I can cum, please” Satan let the admission slip but he was beyond caring. He was imagining the condom wasn’t there, and that he was going to fill her to the brim with his seed. He wanted to see it dripping out of her, hear her disappointed whines as she tried to keep it all in but just couldn’t. He needed to claim her, to watch her body grow and change to birth his child. To show everyone she was his and he was worthy of her, able to give her anything and everything she wanted, including children.

Well fuck. He thought. I guess that is a thing for me.

M/C was just as lost as he was – “I love you too, so much, please cum for me, make me yours”.

He could swear he felt his heart explode in his chest.

“I’m yours, Satan, please, I need you”.

That was it for him. The demon thrust inside of her one last time, as deep as he could, filling the condom and wishing he was filling her. He moved a hand down between them, rubbing her clit until she came as well, screaming his name into his ear.

The two of them held each other as they came down, gently soothing each other with praises and further declarations of love.

Eventually, Satan got up to throw away the condom and to get a washcloth to clean the two of them up. Once they were clean and the bed was covered in new sheets, they curled up together and slowly drifted to sleep in each other’s arms. No words were necessary – they could all wait until tomorrow. For now they just wanted to be together.

Very late at night, or early in the morning depending on your perspective, Satan awoke briefly from the best rest he’d had in decades. Flipping over, he opened the bedside drawer to make sure his alarm was set so they wouldn’t miss breakfast. Unlocking his DDD, he was confronted with notifications showing 113 missed texts and 57 missed calls, mostly from Lucifer but a few from Mammon and Asmodeus. They hadn’t exactly been quiet so he wasn’t particularly surprised. What brought a smile to his face though, was the preview of the last text he’d received from Lucifer.

Lucifer: I hope you know you’ll be spending the better part of this week hanging upside down in the foyer. Maybe I’ll give Mammon a bat so he can treat you like a pinata.

He turned to look at the human in bed next to him. Her face was soft, relaxed. He could see glimpses of his handiwork from under her messy hair. He gently brushed some of it away from her face, and he received a gentle sigh in return. Turning his focus back to his DDD, he sent one last text before he would go back to holding his love in his strong arms – the sound of the ongoing storm lulling him to sleep.

Satan: Totally worth it

#Bee's writing #obey me satan #obey me smut #obey me nsft #obey me satan smut

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historitor-bookshelf · 3 months ago

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Warhammer Kinktober 2024: Day 8

Battlefield Sex | Blood Angels | Blood play

Other tags: Female Guard OC/Blood Angel OC, Blood Drinking, Possessiveness, Vaginal Sex

He was fast. Fighting alongside the angels of the Emperor, the sons of the Great Angel himself, had been a great honour. Watching Seraphiel taking down enemies with his power sword, whirling and ripping the heretics apart. His angelic face was gorgeous, his blonde locks a halo around his head. She had sighed when she first saw him and admired his lovely features. The soft lips, the soft golden sheen of his skin, the deep blue eyes - he was a dream of a man.

Right now, as he loomed above her, on this battlefield he had dominated, he was still a dream. He had pushed her down onto a slab of stone, breathing heavily and hard above her. HIs pupils were blown and large, as he pulled his lower armour pieces off. She didn’t hesitate - she stripped her own pants off, kicking them and her panties off. Seraphiel pressed his lips against hers, teeth clanking agains teeth, tongue shoved down her throat. She whined as he finally freed himself completely, pulling his body glove aside so that he was able to line himself up, pushing into her. Her back arched, her legs quivering around his hips. He growled , shoving against her and settled into a rough rhythm that jostled her with every thrust. “Seraphiel”, she whined against his lips. “S- Slow down.” “No,” he gasped, his lips finding her throat. “Song of my heart, I’ve waited long enough. Be mine.” “I a-” His teeth grazed her throat. “Fully.” He whispered, his cock pushing harder into her. “Give me yourself fully.” He moved while fucking with the same grace he did as in battle, his cock slamming into her, touching her so deep as no man had ever done before. And always, always he touched her, pulling her closer with every thrust. He gasped, his golden hair almost glowing in the dying sun. “Yes,” she whispered. Seraphiel groaned, bent down and kissed her neck gently. “Oh, the gifts you give to me. You smell so good, my love.” Then his sharp incissors - she’s seen them before but thought they were a flash of light, a trick of the mind - pierced her neck, biting down. Her hands flew up, digging into his hair. “Seraphiel,” She gasped. “What-” He began to suck, his tongue lapping up the blood escaping and he didn’t stop. He didn’t stop fucking her, either. His hands, gauntlets removed to only leave the thin bodyglove on him and his hand slipped between her thighs. “Stop that.” She whined. “Stop- no. Blood.” He grunted, his tongue lapping across her neck. “Delicious.” He gasped. “I desired your blood from the time I first smelt you.” His tongue dipped into the bite and drew out more blood. Her head felt dizzy, her desire drenching his cock and she couldn’t help but want more. She wanted his cock between her legs, buried deep within her. She wanted him to drink more of her blood, she wanted him to devour her- Seraphiel groaned loudly and he began to suck harder again, his hips pushing harder into her before he hilted himself into her, spilling his hot seed in her, taking her over the edge with him. Seraphiel collapsed on her, his cock still snug in her, and still sucking her neck, licking her blood off her throat. “Mine.” He said again. “I’ll take you with me.”

#warhammer 40k #warhammer kinktober #fanfic #author is proud she did eight whole days already #and is still two days ahead #and it is my weekend and then I have time off so guess what the kinktober train ain't stopping anytime soon #Big thanks to those who like and reblog and who made this challenge #and to my adhd meds

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figthefruitfaeth · 2 years ago

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Mail, Murder, and Other Mysteries; from the Nancy Wheeler Files

finally started this

Chapter One: The Flyer and the Note (next chapter) (ao3 link)

“Okay. One more time, just so I’ve got it down.”

The pile of blankets next to her groans, then, mumbles something unintelligible.

Nancy clicks her tongue, “Eddie. Come on.”

The pile shuffles around, before revealing Eddie, bangs sticking up, dark hair a frizzy halo around his annoyed little scrunchy face. He’s wearing a Metallica ’91 World Tour shirt that’s a size too big and bleached brown down the left side where he’d given himself a set of chunky red highlights. Nancy knows this because she’d gotten up to use the bathroom and, still half-asleep, nearly knocked out a very wet, pathetic Eddie trying to wipe down their now pink sink.

“Seriously, Wheeler?”

Nancy raises a brow, pointing at Eddie with her chopsticks. “I’m running on two hours of sleep, three cups of coffee, and a box of overpriced chow mein. I’m gonna need it again.”

“God, as if living through it wasn’t torture enough. Now I’ve got Nancy—”

“Don’t even—”

“—Drew on the case.”

She pushes him, and Eddie, still cocooned tight, goes down with a heavy thunk.

“You asked me to help, so I’m helping. Stop trying to distract me.”

He groans again, wrestling himself free from his pile and flopping back on the couch, head tilted up on the back, eyes closed.

“Fine, fine! If I must.”

Nancy can practically hear the gears in his mind turning, he’s a loud thinker. Really, she amends, a loud guy in general. In the early days, when they were still strangers to one another, she’d been certain a roommate from the classifieds section was the worst idea she’d had since cutting her own bangs. However, her fears of getting robbed blind had been assuaged by the fact that he didn’t have a quiet bone in his body, banging around in the kitchen at odd hours of the night, cursing when he inevitably made a ruckus. Thankfully, it worked out, seeing as she was usually awake at these odd hours with her own deadlines.

“Go on,” she starts, biting down on her smile with the last bit of egg roll.

“So, I’m at the mailbox, getting our mail, like a good roommate—”

Nancy digs in her box, humming her disbelief in her noodles.

“—when 3B comes over.”

3B, the apartment three doors down and cursed with a revolving set of tenants, never keeping anyone longer than two months the entire two years Nancy has lived in the building. That was, of course, until the latest pair. A guy and a girl, who’d moved in in a rush right after Thanksgiving and had been there for two months and two days. Nancy checks her watch. Two months and three days.

Nancy hasn’t met either of them, not like Eddie, who just about runs into one of them every other day. The perks of working from home. Though, she knows she’d go insane if she spent as much time inside as Eddie seems to.

“The Hair?”

Eddie’s latest crush. Nancy still hasn’t even caught a glimpse of him, but from Eddie’s descriptions, she knows he’s the kind of strait-laced jock she would’ve dated in high school. He’s also got the world’s greatest head of hair, which she also knows about because Eddie spent a good thirty minutes talking about it over a pile of pancakes at Denny’s. He’d been very high, and she had been very hungover, so the nickname has stuck.

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Yes. The Hair. I would’ve led with your girlfriend if it’d’ve been her.”

She’s only seen the girl in passing. Robin, her name tag read, so Nancy knows she works retail. She doesn’t know much else, other than that she’s still in school (the bookbag slung over one shoulder threatening to break at the seams), that she eats at the same takeout place (Dumpling Beast flyers taken in where the other doors still had them stuck on from July), and that she’s a few inches taller (enough where Nancy would have to look up at her if they were close, reach up to brush the tawny strays out of her lightly freckled face).

“Shut up,” she kicks at him again, but she’s too slow. Eddie ready and leaping out and then back on top of her, legs crushed under him. He cackles but moves before she can get too uncomfortable, burrowing into the couch cushions and taking the brunt of his weight off of her.

“So, to clarify, my 3B comes over. He says ‘hey’, I say ‘hi’ back, it’s whatever. I’m going through the mail, the usual, and I go to leave when he looks at me and asks who the band on my t-shirt is. Which, I could tell he was a total preppy Top 40 kind of guy, but he doesn’t even know who Metallica is?” He pulls at his shirt and Nancy responds with a quirked brow.

“I thought maybe he was giving me shit, but I don’t know. He seemed really…genuine? Whatever skip to the end and he says he’ll check them out or whatever, which, doubtful, but then, he says, ‘I like the shirt. It suits you.’ And winks. Which is just so—” Eddie makes a strangling motion.

“Is this the part where you died?”

“No. No that comes when I blacked out and called him ‘big boy’.”

“I’m sorry, ‘big boy’?” Nancy laughs, incredulous.

“Yeah, yeah I fucking know.”

“What did he—”

“I don’t know! I just—ran.”

“Oh, Eddie—”

Eddie groans, throwing his head against her side, dark hair fanning over her pale pinstripe pjs. She gives him a pat, careful not to pull at his curls.

Her eyes stray from his frail form to the living room. Cozy and unique is what the ad had described the apartment, but in Nancy’s now-lived experience, it is much closer to tight and cramped. There’s no distinction between the living room and the kitchen, no dining room either, just a seamless transition from the one counter next to the oven to the windows facing the back alley where the trash gets thrown out. Eddie had tried just throwing it out of the window his first week in the apartment, but overshot. By a lot. A week later a very pointed sign was posted in the lobby about the proper trash procedure for the building.

The living room is tiny. There’s not much more to it than the couch Nancy and her previous roommate had thrifted and the coffee table her parents bought her as a housewarming gift. Logically, she knew apartments in the city were small and the ones she could afford even smaller, but she still wasn’t prepared for the way it presses in on her. How the shade of summer turned to biting winters, or the way late night takeout clung to the walls, the smell of orange chicken and exhaustion unwilling to come out even with a bottle of Extra Strength Febreze. It doesn’t help that a third of the space is taken up by her board.

Or, The Board—proper pronoun bestowed by Eddie. It’s her double-sided, 48x60-inch whiteboard complete with a rolling stand, adjustable height, and a little cup for her expo markers. It’s the first thing she bought after cashing out her first real paycheck from the newspaper (that, and a $35 bottle of wine instead of the usual $10). It doesn’t fit in her room, and really, it shouldn’t fit in the living room either, but Nancy didn’t really need that TV anyway.

Currently, The Board is home to her latest case—Lenora Industries. They’re a shipping company responsible for the import and export of various items, mostly cheap home goods for big box stores and some higher quality items for Lenora’s more select clientele. While the average Joe wouldn’t be able to pick the company out from a lineup, they were singularly responsible for almost a third of the city’s incoming supply. They’ve had a few complaints over the years, the typical shady missteps any big corporation commits, but nothing life-changing.

Not until last October, when a secretary’s body was found washed up on the shore a stone’s throw from their shipping yard. A woefully incompetent police investigation concluded that the secretary, a Barbara Holland, had committed suicide and that had been that. Another woman swept away with the tide of industry.

Nancy knew there was a story there, and Hopper, her Chief Editor, had known it too. The proof of it lies on The Board, every inch covered in various confidential (and not strictly legally obtained) documents, notes scribbled on diner napkins, and newspaper clippings all drawn together in red string. It’s—a lot.

Nancy looks at The Board.

The Board looks back.

She clears her throat, “Well, he was clearly hitting on you, so you’re probably fine.”

Eddie pops up. “You say that, but you haven’t actually seen the guy. I wouldn’t say he’s one of us.”

“How much mail did he get?”

Eddie squints. “I don’t know, Wheeler, I don’t keep track of other people’s mail. That’s a federal crime and I don’t fuck with my boys in blue.”

She rolls her eyes, “You must’ve noticed something, right? Did he have a lot?”

“I mean,” he bites his lip, eyes searching his memory. “He had a flyer for that new gym on 3rd?”

“Right, exactly,” she shrugs. “He’s hitting on you.”

Eddie sputters, gears jamming in their haste to catch up with her.

“That…that doesn’t answer anything! Wheeler!”

“Okay! 3B, they’re new, been here two months,” and three days. “We haven’t seen anybody go over.” Not including the landlord. “You said he’s got an accent,” small town Midwest, “so they’re new to the city, too. Small townies in a big city moving in right around the holiday and nobody writes, nobody visits.”

“Yeah…”

It’s a familiar story, one they’ve heard through friends and bartenders, newspapers and old ladies in the check-out line. Nancy pushes past it.

“We get a lot of mail. I know this because I’ve witnessed you run late for multiple meetings checking our mail.”

“It’s not my fault I have adoring fans, Wheeler.”

“What’s he doing spending twenty minutes checking his one piece of mail?”

The gears are turning, but the engine must be running low on fuel because he just looks hopelessly up at her.

“He was waiting to talk to you.”

“I mean…so, he wants to talk to me, that doesn’t mean he’s gay.”

“‘It suits you’? That shirt has seen better days, we both know that.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I had to wear a three-piece to get the mail.”

“That’s exactly my point. You didn’t and he still went out of his way to compliment you. I know you’re not stupid, I’m just wondering why you don’t want to see the signs.”

Eddie slams a pillow over his face. He says something else to the effect of kill me.

Another muffled moan. Nancy waits patiently, setting down her chow mein to pick over what’s left of the beef and broccoli. Eddie’s got a thing for freakouts, especially when he’s on a deadline. It’s like his whole body turns into a live wire, ready to spark at the slightest touch.

She checks her watch again. 3:02 am. God, it’s late. She should go to bed soon—she’s got work in just under five hours and a long day of incompetence and condescension to get through, but try as she might, sleep won’t come to her when she’s like this.

She looks back at The Board. Maybe the expression is different, but she’s a lot like Eddie in the way she can’t settle during an assignment. How her work becomes her obsession. If he’s a bolt of electricity, then she’s a gas leak, seeping into the pores of the apartment, a stray strike away from burning down herself and everyone she touches just to see the work done. Neither of them would pass a safety inspection.

“What about you?” Eddie says, nudging his head against her side.

She blinks. “What about me?”

“How come you haven’t introduced yourself to Rowan?”

There’s a certain glimmer in those dark eyes. Like the cat who’s caught the canary, it’s a look he only gets when’s up-to or on-to something. Maybe he can’t always see straight with his own problems, but he sure can put a pin in hers. She’s loud too, and Eddie hears it just the same.

“Robin. And you’re deflecting.”

“You’re deflecting my deflection, Wheeler. It doesn’t take a detective to know you like her and you haven’t done anything about it when we know for a fact that she likes you back.”

“Just cause she asked about me one time—”

“Three—”

“Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Now who’s kidding themselves?”

“It’s not the same.”

“Why?” Eddie stays on her, big eyes refusing to blink. To her right, The Board’s gaze is set on her as well. Under their weight she feels stuck. Pinned down. Nancy shifts.

It’s not the same because…Nancy chews on a fatty piece of beef. She doesn’t have a very good response. Or rather, she doesn’t have an easy answer. The honest one is too involved for Eddie to digest, and the short one is something he won’t swallow.

Because…The Board looms above her, papers stuck stiff, strings pulled taut across the body. Her most important, career-changing case pinned for her dissection. The reason she got out of bed, the reason she stayed out of bed well into the night, throwing away dinner dates and party invites for a chance to do something. Her chance dashed in November and passed onto someone older, lazier, male. Her last meaningful case currently stuck in bureaucratic, office politics bullshit.

“What Lord Shit-for-Brains say?”

Yesterday’s meeting flashes hot behind her eyes. Another attempt to reopen the case, to get back the resources and support that would’ve made the work of the last two months and four days, two weeks. She had looked a little desperate, and she felt it, but she couldn’t stop herself either.

“What he said last time,” Nancy straightens, smile biting. “That I’m a junior reporter, that it’s a threadbare case against a prominent, respectable company and that Hopper should have never given it to me in the first place. Oh, and of course, that I should be working on stories better suited for reporters like me.”

“Back to Kitten Watch?”

“Balloon festival at the retirement home on 8th, but close enough.”

“Balloon Festival?”

“Yeah. It’s what you give the interns. But here I am, having worked for this paper for two years getting bullshit fluff pieces because they ‘suit me’. Fucking bullshit.”

This wouldn’t be happening if Hopper hadn’t been forced into an early retirement. For better or worse, he hadn’t cared about how much sleep she lost, what rules she bent, or the ‘F’ on her birth certificate, he cared about the truth. If he was here, she’d still be working on a case worth her time and getting paid.

“He’s punishing me,” she stabs at her last piece of beef, but hits a slimy broccoli head instead. “Do you think anybody ever got a Pulitzer for page five articles? That hard-hitting truths are going to come from a balloon festival? No. No, he doesn’t like women and he especially doesn’t like them talking back, so he’d decided to tank my career. And he can do it. He can fucking—” her chopsticks slip, puncturing through the bottom of the carton. Sauce splashes onto the blanket and seeps into her pants.

Nancy breathes in. Then, out.

She is so calm, so cool and collected. She is not going to lose it. She is not. Going. To lose it.

“What’s his car look like again?” There’s a handful of takeout napkins in her face, and she takes them, mopping up what she can. The blanket will have to be washed, same with the pants, and she’s already behind on laundry.

“No,” Nancy shakes her head. “He’ll know it’s me, or—me adjacent.”

“Well, it’s always on the table, just give me the word when shit’s about to go down.”

“Uh-huh,” she mutters. These were her last pair of good pj pants, and she’s not off till Sunday, which, even if two of the building’s four washers weren’t broken, would be impossible to get in. Her sweatpants are still mostly clean, coffee stains don’t really count as dirty at this point—

“Vecna.”

Nancy looks at him, now fully sitting up, legs resting up on the edge of the table. He’s got his own carton, a noodle hanging precariously from his lips.

“What?”

“The word. For when shit goes down. Vecna!” He does a jazz hand.

“Isn’t that the name of the villain in your book?” She knows it is, other than The Hair it’s all he talks about. Keyword talking and not working, which is what he should be doing instead of hanging out with her. He says it’s part of the process, which, she doesn’t really see how procrastinating is going to help his word count, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t like the company.

“Technically. Though I’m thinking of changing it.”

“Again?” It’s the third name in as many months for the titular bad guy. His agent is getting frustrated, which Nancy knows because she keeps leaving very threatening messages for him in their answering machine.

Eddie scarfs down something bright pink, “Once again, not my fault he’s got a lot going on. He won’t make up his mind, it’s really annoying.”

“What’d his parents name him?”

“That’s the thing, he can’t just go by his birth name.”

“Why not?”

“Cause he’s not just born. He’s engineered, he’s self-made, reborn and resurrected. I can’t just go with the name bestowed upon him because it’s not true to who he is.”

Nancy does not understand writers.

“Don’t even worry about it, Wheeler. You say Vecna, and I got my pocketknife out.”

She can’t argue with that.

“Thanks, Eddie.”

“Anytime, Wheeler.”

They don’t say anything for a while, just the low cranking of the radiator and Eddie’s contemplative chewing to ease the silence of the freezing apartment. At some point, Eddie lays back down, hair fanning out over her lap as he drops a green bean in his mouth. Her hands find their way into his mane automatically and begin braiding. He sighs contently.

French braid. Barbara Holland left the office around 5 pm on Friday and went straight home. Her roommate said she left the building in a hurry around 7:30 pm. The coast guard found her body early Monday morning. Other than a small cut on her hand, there were no signs of bruising or physical violence. She still had her purse, complete with her wallet and keys. There was no note.

She didn’t have a lot of friends or a partner, but no list of enemies either. Her roommate described her as a homebody, and her finances were in order. No one at the office seemed particularly sad, but neither did they seem happy. One moment she was there, the next she wasn’t.

Dutch braid. Though her body wasn’t found till Monday, the coroner estimated her time of death to be somewhere in the ballpark of 4-6 hours prior. The phone call came in around 7:30 Friday. There are 48 hours of unaccounted time. That means Barbara Holland was alive for two days, and nobody knows where.

Fishtail. When Nancy visited her workplace the first time, her boss had been sweating despite the office temperature being a cool 64 in October. The second time, there had been a new guy, Barb’s desk had been scrubbed clean, and Nancy escorted out by company security. Calls she’d made a week earlier started getting dropped and Barb’s roommate disappeared. Then, Hopper retired and her case was sunk down the river.

Eddie hisses, jerking Nancy back to the moment.

“Sorry,” she yawns, teasing out the knot she’d tugged too hard on. Eddie pats her leg in forgiveness. He takes another bite of his food when she notices again how vivid the color is.

“What did you order?” Overpriced is one thing, but undercooked is another.

He tilts his head up at her, face upside down turning his confused frown into an eerie smile. “Wha—oh! These are gummies.” The box is held up closer and—yeah. Where there should be noodles and veggies fried in soy sauce is a pile of red and yellow licorice. There’s also a gummy shrimp, an egg, and a scattering of gummy bears a color only man can produce. She sighs.

If she can’t even tell gummies from chicken, she’s not figuring out how Lenora Industries killed Barbara Holland. Not tonight, anyway.

Nancy ties off his braid, then gets up, plucking what she hopes is a pineapple bear out of his carton before he can stop her.

“Thief!” He squawks.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she calls over her shoulder. “Also, it’s your turn to do the dishes.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Nancy climbs into bed. It takes her a long time to get settled, the apartment too cold and the bed too lumpy. It takes longer for her to fall asleep, her brain continuing to churn through the facts of the day. The flyer, the nametag, the absence of a note.

When she does finally manage to drift off, her dreams are consumed with the unseeing eyes of Barbara Holland.

#my writing #steddie #ronance #stranger things fic #ronance fic #steddie fic #nancy wheeler #eddie munson #it feels a little long for tumblr but i love the serial idea of it a lot so #se le vie or whatever they say #my work

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jtavington · 1 year ago

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Sulemio Reunion and Proposl

Another snippet from the rough draft of the Sulemio WIP. For context, Miorine had planned to propose but they had a nasty argument about Quiet Zero that ended with Miorine lashing out and throwing the ring against the wall. Unrelated events caused her to agree QZ must go and she's gone back to the office to plan its destruction.

“Miorine.”

Miorine looked up. Suletta stood bracing herself against the doorway. Her headband had gone missing, and her glorious red hair fanned around her like an angel’s halo. Her blue eyes glinted in the dim light of screens. Worry lines that hadn’t been there an hour ago had worked their way around her eyes and down her brow. She watched Miorine with the sad, kind smile of a goddess watching a mortal.

Miorine blinked. The image didn’t change. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

“You didn’t come home,” she said as if the explanation were self-evident. Because of course it was for Suletta. Suletta whose first thought was the safety and comfort of people who had done nothing but bully her. Who still wanted to reach her family despite knowing that her mother didn’t see her as a person. She would worry all the more for the person who had stabbed her in the heart twice.

Miorine swallowed her tears. They burned in her throat. She couldn’t try to make Suletta pity her. The only thing that mattered was telling her what to do next. “You were right. Quiet Zero cannot be allowed to exist. I’ve arranged for the Pharact to be delivered to you. Go to Folkvangr. You can use the lab there to create a datastorm. Dominicus will step in if you fail.”

“Guel told me that you had changed your mind,” she said with the same smile. “I’m happy.

“I was a fool.” And a hypocrite. And almost a monster. She held up her tablet. “Once you’ve spoken with Ericht, I will pay for you and the rest of Earth House to go anywhere you wish. Found your school. Live your life people who won’t hurt you.”

Suletta blinked. “Is that what you want?”

Miorine put her hands on her knees to hide them under the desk and dug her nails into her palm. She said she would say yes. Suletta deserved that clean break. The words stuck in her throat. She couldn’t lie a second time. Selfish of her. “I want you to be safe and happy with someone worthy of you.”

“Please, tell the truth.” Her voice was soft, tender. Miorine watched in fascination as Suletta crossed to the other side of the desk and removed something from her pocket. The engagement ring gleamed in the light. Gently, were made of the most fragile glass, Suletta laid it on the edge of the desk. “Is this what you want?”

The tears that had threatened fell down her face for the second time that night. Miorine hid her face in her hands. Suletta had come to give the ring back, and because she was who she was, she was being gentle instead of throwing it in Miorine’s face while snidely complementing her for being a good shield. “I—I screwed up.”

“We both have. The important thing is that we keep trying to be good.” She took Miorine’s hands and rested them gently on the desk. “There’s something else I want to show you.” She removed something else from her pocket. Another ring box. The ring inside was much plainer than the one Miorine had purchased--a white gold band and a solitaire diamond barely the size of her fingernail—but unmistakably an engagement ring.

Suletta had planned to propose to Miorine.

What fragile control she had left snapped. The tears started falling again, and she hardly knew whether the sounds coming from her were laughter or tears. “I screwed up,” she repeated.

She heard footsteps. Suletta stood beside her and pulled her from the chair to the circle of her arms. She guided Miorine’s nose to the crook of her neck and drew circles on her spine. “Hush,” she whispered. “It’s okay. Let it out. I’m not going anywhere.

“You…” Her sob turned into a hiccup. “You’re not? But I—”

“You were angry and you said something you shouldn’t.” Her roughened fingers moved to Miorine’s neck, massaging until Miorine felt loose and boneless despite herself. “I was angry you said it. That doesn’t mean I love you any less.”

Miorine looked up. Suletta looked the same as she had in the greenhouse: older, resolute, like she had seen too much for her kindness to be anything but a choice. “Are you sorry?

She might as well have asked Miorine if she liked gardening. “Yes, of course. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I shouldn’t have ever agreed to the deal in the first place.”

“I believe you. You’ve done all you can to fix it.” Her hand went up to stroke Miorine’s hair and pull the pins loose, fanning it out until it cascaded down Miorine’s back. “You’re forgiven.”

Miorine blinked. It couldn’t be that easy. “Just like that?”

“Well, I think maybe you need to see a counselor about your temper and you really need to stop pulling these all-nighters, but we can deal with that later.” She kissed the top of Miorine’s head. “How could I not love the woman who tied herself to a world she hated over and over again, for me? And how could I abandon the woman I love? How can I not want to marry her now that I know I’m strong enough to stay with her?”

She meant it. Somehow this woman saw her as more than Delling’s corrupted daughter. She saw her as Miorine and had pledged herself as her champion, even if the thing that Miorine needed protecting from was Miorine herself. “You’re good. Too good. I’ve done nothing but hurt you since that duel.”

“That still bothers you, doesn’t it? You can’t forgive yourself for it, so you can’t forgive yourself for anything else either.” She pulled back and followed the stream of Miorine’s tears with her lips. She didn’t linger, just brief, warm brushes that made Miorine shiver. “One thing I realized while I was away was that I wouldn’t have been a good wife for you when I was the Holder. I needed to learn to think for myself and wrestle with what was right before I could be anyone’s partner. Sabotaging Aeriel was the wrong ways to handle it but look at me.” She held herself back so they could look each other in the eye. “You didn’t break me. I didn’t break you at Plant Quetta. I forgive you. I love you. I want to be with you.”

Miorine swallowed. Loving Suletta was the easiest thing she had ever done. Accepting that she was loved in return was the hardest. She hadn’t been good. She didn’t deserve her good fortune, but she was loved despite her flaws. She could be brave enough to offer her heart with all its scars and jagged edges and trust that it would be accepted. “I love you too. I want to stay with you.”

Suletta gave her a sly, half-lidded smile She shifted her weight and reached over to grab the smaller engagement ring. Her voice was suddenly small and very adorable. “So this is, um, yours if you want it.”

Miorine blinked away her tears and looked at the ring. It was so small, delicate. Something worth protecting. She took it in trembling fingers and slipped it on the fourth finger of her left hand. It fit as if it had been made for her. “Suletta Mercury, if you will have me, I am yours.” She shuddered. “I promise.”

“I promise too. No matter what happens. Whether things are going good or terribly. Even if you’re sick or hurt I’ll come to you. I belong to you until I die.”

Miorine took her own ring and knelt on wobbly legs. “Until I die. Marry me?”

Suletta flushed a bright red. “Eek! I was supposed to kneel! I mean, yes!

She sank to the ground until she and Miorine knelt together on the floor. Miorine giggled and peppered her face with kisses. “So I guess that makes us bride and groom?”

“I guess it does.”

For keeps this time. Not because of her father’s cruel game, but because of choice they had made and would continue to make all the days of their lives. She slid her lips over Suletta’s. She tasted of chocolate and the fizzy drink she had had for dinner. Suletta kissed her back, gently, insistently, until Miorine melted against her. She explored Miorine’s mouth with the thoroughness of a woman who knew she had all the time in the world. Miorine yielded to her. She would follow Suletta and Suletta alone where she led and hand over the power she had armed herself with.

They kissed like that until they were breathless and giddy. When Suletta finally broke for air, her lips were swollen. “We’re engaged now,” she said and giggled.

“Yep.” Miorine pushed herself up but her legs were jelly. “A little help here?”

Suletta stood with no difficulty and pulled Miorine up and into her arms, holding her as if she weighed nothing at all. “Let’s go home.”

#sulemio #rough draft

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grokebaby · 2 years ago

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Hiiii Me again <3 Could we have crumbs of Grandefel maybe 🥺👉👈 would love to know more about herrrrr. Angle of all time. Id like to know anything tbh but just as a prompt to get you started, how did you come up with her design ?? Its super interesting and I really love the colorssz

Hiiiii<3 (twirls my halo) she is so THE. My poor.. Intended protagonist girlboss..

Oh boy her design? Let's say she really grew into it. Like the earliest art of her I have is sso ugly I'm sorry Grande but I did not have a handle on that thang. She had such Pug vibes. I think this'll be an interesting post?

This is the beginning of it all. Unfortunately I don't have a super insightful answer to how I came up wi her, bc the Og* angels were literally me going HeeHoo with a pencil. (*Certain specific angels I designed in relative succession to each other before I had a handle on how I want to design angels. The so called Ogs are Lamera, ZZZ, J'aimekiel, Grandefel, Kxxxtr, Ngah and Combfa. Everyone after this was designed a notable amount of time later and with much more "process" to them)

I have some thoughts but it's fuzzy and vague? Okay. So I thought I should definitely do one lion (esque?) at least bc *points at old religious art of angels* and they just have those Vibes to me, ykno? I associate angels with certain things that I try to employ in the story's characters (to an extent). Grandefels vibes were.. Guardian, maybe a tad like a sphynx, just ykno, a huge feline statue like entity who guards something and is like a scary immovable force ig? I wanted some ethereal aspects to it, and lots of teeth (hers aren't visible here but the whole underside of her body opens up to a huge ass mouth with teeth everywhere). Now, initially I was gonna have her hair be lilac but turn bright blue in some situations but I WAAAY preferred the blue on her. She's supposed to have Blue flames mixed with galaxy vibes. Like if blue flames were a puddle and that puddle was a lion's mane. And it was all. Cool and semi-physical

Onto how her design adjusted overtime.

I think most firstly I stopped drawing the grooves on her body that would open up to reveal the Teeth, I mean I do still allude to them vaguely but I figured the way I was doing it at first looked kinda.. Eugh? Another thing I quickly started changing was her hair texture. Originally I wanted it to be completely straight and smooth and flowing but it looked way more interesting and more galaxy esque with it being bubbly and cloudy. I guess my initial thought was that I wanted it to look like it was flowing out of her head? Like some water?

^water vibes

Getting there

Galaxy vibes^

(This anthro drawing also demonstrates the way I nowadays moreso "allude" to her hidden mouth but the anthro version here isn't too close to Canon otherwise since I gave her face an actual normal mouth too lol)

Oh yes, and the crown is another major change!

I think my first notable adjustment was made here (note also the flowy hair). If gotten an amino commission (No money, just amino coins lol) of her and really liked the way the artist drew her crown so I took after that and started slowly changing it. It took me a while to be satisfied with, though. In the very beta version, it was supposed to be like a ring/circle. If you look at the older drawings up there, you can see that one horn is meant to be drawn on the "front" and the other behind. It's like if you looked at her from straight up, you'd see the three dimensionality of it, being more like an actual halo instead of one solid headgarment. I do still really like this idea, however I just think it looks better as it is now. I also had a fair bit of finagling with the side horns, frankly I always found them ugly so I'm finally happy with how they look (just realising I haven't drawn her in a bit, so, the anthro pic is the most accurate to her current design if we ignore the uh.. Anthro-ness lol)

One more thing! You don't see her halo too often in these, but it's intended to be drawn tilted. It's not straight (just like her), and tilts a bit down on one side. In universe this is kinda viewed as an imperfection and she used to be ashamed of it. The irl explanation for it was that it couldn't fit straight between the horns, with the way I'd formed the crown, and so I kept it that her halo just is that way! It fits oddly between her crown and I think that's neat!

Apparently on that last picture I decided to draw the halo straight, though? Cringe... :/

Now if you'll excuse me this post made me want to make more art of her

#Ask #Grandefel #Character design #character development #Angel oc #Design breakdown #(sorta?)#I too love her colors! She's so funky to draw!

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xiakha · 1 year ago

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FFXIVWrite2023 Prompt #13 - Check

"Thancred."

It was a cold night in the Rak'tika Greatwood, the first in a century.

"Yes, Xiao?"

"May we speak in private?"

Light aether continued to swirl around Xiao. It was starting to settle now, but she was lit up still like a Starlight decoration.

Thancred scowled, he had an inkling of why Xiao would be reaching out, but he still agreed.

They found a quiet corner of Slitherbough out of earshot of everyone else, and Xiao reminded Thancred of his oath.

"I need to make sure we're on the level."

Thancred grimaced, "This is about the time I took you aside after I had recovered from Lahabrea's possession, isn't it."

"Aye, I swore to strike you down next you were not yourself and you were endangering the Scions."

It felt so long ago. Even more distant than it was for Xiao after Thancred's five years on the First.

But that wasn't what was relevant here.

"Indeed, and I swore likewise for you."

Xiao swung her arms wide in presentation. The halo of light encompassed her whole body, as if she were still lit up by a sunbeam this deep into the evening. "This can't be good," she said.

"...I agree, it cannot."

"If it gets worse, if I can't control it, need you to honor that swear."

Thancred wished to swear as it was, "Of course." He said instead.

"Don't let Y'shtola know."

"Keeping secrets from her now?"

"If she were made aware, she'd try to stop you or stop me. When you put me out of my misery, let it be a swift and sudden strike that no one sees coming."

He chuckled darkly, "Ah yes, what's a little backstabbing between friends?"

Xiao set her jaw, "Also, please don't leave it to Y'shtola."

"She's said on many occasions that she'd enjoy killing you with her own hands, why deny her the pleasure?"

"Thancred."

He sighed, "Bloody hells, Xiao, things have gotten more complicated. This is no longer just a preventative oath between comrades."

She looked down to break eye contact, "I've thought long and hard about this. I don't think she could do it, truth be told, even if it was no longer me. But if she did find the will to force herself, still don't wish her with my blood on her hands. 'Twould destroy her."

"And what of the other Scions, what about Alphinaud and Alisaie? What about Minfilia?"

Xiao met his eyes again, "She's the complication, isn't she?"

Thancred huffed, "No, no, what would they think once the deed was done? Should I explain to them all that we had agreed long ago to put one another out of our respective miseries? A murder pact? How do you think they'd take it?"

"When the time comes, think'll be clear what had to be done."

"Cold comfort for the rest of us," he drew his gunblade and placed its edge against Xiao's neck, "A single swipe above the shoulders, quick and deadly."

"Let it not come to that, but yes."

"Aye, godsforbid."

***

Thancred did not strike her down after she absorbed Innocence. Between G'raha's abduction and all of the Scions acting as a whole, he didn't have the chance. Ryne sealed the Light within Xiao, but he could see how it changed her. Xiao's hair was as dry and brittle as straw, the streak of lighter purple on her front locks was a now pure white. Her skin seemed faded, like fabric left out to bake in the sun.

When they got back to the Crystarium, Y'shtola described grimly how Xiao's smallclothes seemed bleached and the material was as stiff as parchment. The washcloths they used to mop up the Light aether that seeped from her body were burned along with the smallclothes.

Y'shtola, Ryne, and Alisaie were the ones that primarily kept tabs on Xiao as she slept when they were not out seeking solutions themselves. Each of them left Xiao's chambers with patchy bits of skin on their hands, and that skin would split, peel, and slough off.

"Does it hurt?" Thancred asked once while applying ointment and bandages to Ryne's bleeding palms.

"It doesn't. That's what's most worrying. When I do a sealing, when I wipe her body down of light aether, I expect my palms to sting, but I hardly feel anything at all." Ryne looked into Thancred's eyes, pleading, "Do you think Xiao will survive this?"

Thancred looked away, "She's very tough. Even under such circumstances, I'd say she has good odds still."

"What if she turns?"

"I'll take care of it."

"Thancred, what does that mean?"

He looked back to Ryne's horrified expression. Gods be good. He couldn't do it. Not in front of Ryne. Not after all they've been through.

"...Xiao and I came to an understanding, an agreement, on what should happen." He smiled, "We have a plan."

Ryne got quiet in the way she used to get quiet when she suspected Thancred was mad at her. It only now dawned on him that she did this also when she suspected Thancred wasn't being honest with her.

***

Y'shtola slowed down her pace, and spoke once he was at her side, "Thancred, a word."

"What's on your mind, Master Matoya?"

This earned him a little kick to the side of the leg.

She continued while he feigned injury and tenderly rubbed his shin, "What's going on between you and Xiao?"

"Pardon?"

"The entire trip from the Ondo Cups, she's been trying to get your attention, but only when my back is turned."

In all of Xiao's preoccupation, she seemed to have forgotten her lover needn't direct her eyes to see.

"I haven't the foggiest."

"Please, even without aethersight, I could sense the desperation off her."

Y'shtola was worried. They all were, but Y'shtola was worried differently. Xiao had been avoiding Y'shtola in small ways ever since she reawoke. Xiao had never been the type to pass up a chance to bathe in Y'shtola's undivided attention, and yet...

"...There are certain matters that Xiao left to my discretion."

Y'shtola clicked her tongue, "I'd expect Urianger to keep secrets from the rest of us, but you too?"

He didn't know if that was an insult, but he did feel a bit insulted that he was so quickly seen through, "All told, 'tis a small thing."

"Will you act upon it?"

He could feel Y'shtola's aethersight boring holes into his skull. He looked at Ryne talking with Alisaie, and Xiao further up ahead, her sights on the grand marble building that loomed before them.

Thancred watched as Xiao spat out a bit of light and wiped her mouth on her gauntlet. He pictured a single swift slice across her nape. His mind echoed with the memory of Ryne screaming as a villager turned into a sin eater in front of her some years back.

He grit his teeth.

"I am nothing if not a man of my word."

***

Thancred's ears rang and his head ached. He quickly assessed his surroundings, the twins were down, Y'shtola and Urianger were out cold, Ryne was squirming and struggling to arise...

And Xiao was stumbling towards Emet Selch, dragging her sword behind her. If the bastard was still pontificating, Thancred could not hear it over the ringing. He helped Ryne to her knees as he arose himself, keeping an eye on Xiao---

With the sound of cracking glass, she was inundated in light aether once more. The seals Ryne had placed failed. Xiao was left on her hands and knees, her body wracked with pain, and with each shuddering heave, she vomited even more light aether.

Thancred drew his gunblade. It was time. Time to fulfill his oath to Xiao.

He looked back at Ryne one last time, and smiled sadly.

"I can do it. I can seal Xiao back up," she said, a look of determination on her face the likes of which Thancred had never seen before.

"You can?"

"I will."

Thancred looked back at Xiao, then at Emet Selch, then back to Ryne.

"That's my girl."

He leapt, not for Xiao's backside, but a target just beyond.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #FFxivWrite2023 #wordvomit #story #thancred waters #xiao longbao #ryne waters #y'shtola rhul

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mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune · 1 year ago

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Crossover: Story Cover And Sari Sumdac-Before & After (2023)

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[Note: I Will Be Using These Drawings Over At Quotev...also even though this drawing isn't showing anything mature, I am still going to put the "mature audience tag" for this...]

Credit for Hazbin Hotel & Helluva Boss goes to Vivienne "Vivziepop" Medrano

Credit for Transformers goes to Hasbro

Credit for Transformers Animated goes to Sam Register & Matt Youngberg

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I had realized something, besides Steven Quartz Universe having the name "Sans" hidden in his name...

Seviathan Von Eldritch, has Sari's name hidden in his name...

you just have to look really closely...

and also do this...Seviathan Von Eldritch, which spells out "Sari"

and yes, I'm weird enough to notice that...

anyway the drawing on the top, is suppose to be a Cover that I'm gonna use at Quotev...

the drawing at the bottom, has the same drawing of Sari that is seen in the Cover, but also acts as a Before and After look...

the new look of Sari, with her hair down and her outfit being slightly different, having her not wear her dress in the "After-Look" and she is wearing shorts instead...

there is still a reason for her eyes being purple, and why in the Cover, it shows another version of her that looks like a succubus, but with the horns, she could seem like she's a Imp & succubus hybrid in that form....

it be interesting if Vark became attached to Sari, well it isn't like Vox is the only one who can do that "zap" thing...

when it comes to Sari Sumdac Vs Alastor & Vox, the song "Angel Of The Stage" by TryHardNinja, would end up playing.

like picture her singing that song, and the boys being Alastor & Vox.

and her looking like the "After-Look" at the drawing at the bottom.

I will also be using the drawing at the bottom, as a cover for a future chapter...so both drawings will be used as covers for a fan fic...

like if Sari did sing the "Angel Of The Stage"

like picture her in that Imp/Succubus Hybrid form, and she uses her fingers to zap a electric light blue halo over her head when singing.

there is still the matter of trying to do a re-drawing of a drawing I was working on before, but I don't think I feel like trying right now.

it has to do with a Crossover fan art, it happen some weeks ago...

I know I might not be able to make it 100% like how I had originally drew it.....and anyway, one of the reasons why I hadn't been signed on for some weeks this August, is because of what happen to the drawing I had worked on....and well, I have been updating some stuff at Quotev as well.....so there is that.

also, even though I don't want these two drawings to be reblog without my permission, and I'm making sure to have tag for it be first and not be the last tag...

but I'm going to use these drawings as Covers for a fan fic over at Quotev....which might not be a perfect fan fic, and there might be some bad grammar, and it wasn't originally gonna be a Crossover with Helluva Boss, Hazbin Hotel and Transformers Animated...

but then I decided to add TFA into it...

and well, I am thinking of adding another series into it...

but like in a type of secondary part of the Crossover, while the other three could be the main part.

anyway, like I had pointed out in another drawing that has Sari with her hair down and with purple eyes...

Sari is 23 years old in Earthling Years...

but she is 23-Hundred Stellar-Cycles Old In Cybertronian Years, which I think I will point this out in that fan fic.

this might be a bit of a spoiler, but I already wrote about it and it's okay that not everyone reads it.

but anyway Sari's Teenage Upgrade doesn't stay forever (and she will end up aging to a teenager again, and not by that upgrade...)

so yeah, Sari helps fix the Allspark by giving it some of the Allspark energy that is in her body, and even if the Allspark is put back together, it is still not fully fixed...

so yeah when Sari uses the Allspark energy, she ends up losing her teenager form and goes back to her 8 year old self before the upgrade.

the difference being she can still go into robot mode, but it is a little kid version of her robot mode, with longer ponytails.

the current Sari (that is in that story), is now a young woman and is 23 years/23-Hundred Stellar-Cycles Old...

I think I will try to write the next chapter later or maybe tomorrow.

but since the idea is that Sari was turned back into the age she was before the upgrade, she would still have some part of the upgrade in her, which had her age in Cybertronian Years.

so that would mean she had turned 8-Hundred Stellar-Cycles in Cybertronian years, and over the years as she aged, adding to her Human Age, she would still end up being around Hundred Stellar-Cycles...

so yeah Human Age: 23 years old

and Cybertronian Age: 23-Hundred Stellar-Cycles Old.

it be funny if Ratchet went all protective Grandpa mode with Sari, like seeing how she no longer dressing in dresses all the time and has hair hair down, and well it would be interesting if he got really protective.

Megatron has no idea that she is his daughter because of that mitosis thing, and once again, Megatron is way overdue for that Hatchling Shower...

it could be either Blitzwing or Lugnut or both, who end up throwing Megatron that Hatchling Shower...

it be cute if Soundwave became protective of his big sister Sari.

I like to view the Soundwave in TFA, as being more of a "Soundwave Jr." from the one that wasn't made by Megatron.

anyway if at times I'm not on here for some weeks or right away, and not just because of my feeling not really happy because of what happen some weeks ago that has to do with a drawing I worked on.

then it can also mean I'm doing other stuff, like trying to relax, maybe doing some reading, watching a movie or show I like or maybe playing video games.

anyway there is a MLP drawing I want to post next, but I think I will wait until maybe tomorrow to do that...

I'm gonna check a few fan arts on here, and then I guess I will watch a movie later......have to decide which movie to pick.

I still want to glomp Megatron, the one who was being sassy to Solus Prime...well if I was able to that is....

that Megatron, along with EarthSpark-Megatron are gonna be on that glomp list....I'm just being weird I guess.

I wouldn't be surprised if there might be a lot of people, who had the same feelings or thoughts about Megatron, wanting to glomp him.

even though I have thoughts of wanting to glomp him, but currently I might not feel up to do such a thing right now...

I know this "Earth Angel Princess" still wants to punch Lucifer, well him and Other Male-Angels that have crossed lines they shouldn't of...and I'm not taking Archangel Samael's bull slag either, well more like I'm tired of his bull slag....he is one of the Male-Angels I don't fully trust, and there can be like only a few I might be able to trust.

and even though it is just thoughts, and I know it isn't even possible.

but even if it were, I don't think I would feel up to it at the moment either......you know, punch Lucifer....maybe on the arm, like really hard.....well him and some other Male-Angels, if it were possible.

I think after I check out some fan art on here, maybe I will go lay down and maybe sleep, that might help some.

and well maybe after that, I can watch a movie.

so yeah, maybe it could turn out that Samael isn't Cain's Dad....well Bio-Dad, but Adam is still Cain's Dad, and should be considered Cain's True Father even if he isn't his biological father...

anyway not everyone has to agree about my view about it, but try to respect it.

and you know, if it really is true that Samael is Cain's Dad...

it makes me glad that he ain't my Dad, even if Cain is my Ancestor.

Samael ain't the boss of me...and he is one of the reasons I can't fully trust some Male-Angels, and can only trust a few of them...

anyway, maybe when I'm able to and when I can find the time.

I will draw the Sari with the long hair and purple eyes again.

maybe not right away, but whenever I'm able to.

maybe I will draw her in a different outfit in the next drawing I do of her. and I can't really give away why her eyes became purple, I still need to think over the idea about why her eyes become purple.

#do not reblog without permission #mature audiences only #crossover fanart #transformers animated #tfa fanart #helluva boss fanart #hazbin hotel fanart #sari sumdac #robo fizz #chazwick thurman #seviathan von eldritch #swindle tfa #vark #daniel witwicky #august 2023

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possuminabathtub · 2 months ago

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WIP Word Search: The Squeakquel

Just read through @bromcommie's second wip word search post and it was absolutely fascinating and it had an open invite, so here we are again!

gentle From an unfinished chapter of It was just red

Silence settled over the cell again, just the sound of their breathing and the rustling shiver that shook her shoulders for just a split second. Spurring his hands back into action, he continued detangling her hair. He'd already gotten halfway through, so there was no real reason to stop now, and besides, it was...distracting...to have something to do. "I don't know my name," He finally admitted after a long time, or what certainly felt like one. She didn't respond immediately, but her shoulders stiffened slightly, then sloped a second later, the closest he could get to reading her with her back turned. He didn't expect a response, but she offered one nonetheless. "That's alright," Her tone was gentler than he'd ever heard it, and he switched from detangling to braiding, two neat braids on either side of her head that aimed for functionality over style. "I already know it," His hands hitched, freezing mid-motion before he quickly reoriented himself and carefully caught the hair that fell from his grasp. "Would you like to have it back?" Yes. "No."

burn From an experimental future scene in Souls where Firebird meets Wolverine

He'd healed. Just like she so often did. Apparently, she'd just made him angry more than she'd actually damaged him, because he bared his teeth as he ran at her again, fully healed. She braced but didn't dodge, letting him think he had the upper hand as he threw both of them to the floor. As he straddled her and drew back to punch her, she simply stared at him, no hint of an expression, not a thought, just emptiness, a well practiced expression that always had some sort of effect on others, whether that was sympathy, pride, or in this case, rage. The blades felt as any other blade did as they slotted between her ribs, the rush of cold metal heralding the burning pain signals that flooded her brain. Fine. If he wanted a fight, she would give him one. It would be possibly the only time she could truly fight with no repercussions. She couldn't hurt him, not permanently at least. A laugh, manic and sharp, escaped her throat and his eyebrows drew together for a moment before she lurched upward, uncaring of the way her ribcage groaned and screamed as the tips of the claws popped out through her back then suddenly retracted. She dug her thumbs into his eyes, feeling the way one gave way before he managed to grab her wrists and yank them away from his face with a shout of surprise and pain.

breath From another unfinished chapter of It was just red

“Wipe him.” She smelled of blood and bile and incandescent rage, simmering just below the surface as she leaned over him to secure the heavy metal bands around his arms and torso. Every movement was slow, careful, as if moving hurt. He forgot things, often, but he rarely forgot she was human. As human as the people he was sent to kill. As human as collateral damage and witnesses and civilians. Had she been a civilian once? He couldn’t imagine she was built for this, not the way he had been. Gently, she slid a bite block between his teeth and he bit down, watching a wisp of her brown hair dance with her every breath as she lowered the halo down around his head. It was easier than thinking about what was about to happen, even as his heart rate spiked and his breathing quickened. She checked one of the restraints around his bicep, eyebrows drawn together for a moment. Her touch lingered, cool and almost comforting, and he suspected nothing had ever been wrong with the restraint.

control From a scene in Chapter 12 of Souls that I don't recall writing but liked upon rereading

"You want to know about the Winter Soldier," Alba said in no uncertain terms as she studied Steve with a scrutinous gaze, before moving it over to Sam, who's surprise was controlled but evident. Her gaze softened slightly, so clearly whatever information she'd gained from studying them was positive, or at least neutral enough, as she explained. "A bulky man with clear military training, hiding his face from every camera and employee, who takes a special interest in the Captain America exhibit shortly after the whole Shield Triskelion fiasco. It wasn't a hard set of dots to connect when you guys reached out to my boss." At the pair's silence, she arched an eyebrow. "Is that not it?" "It...is," Steve said slowly. "You said you encountered a man matching his description." He prompted, pausing to see how she'd respond. No point in asking questions dancing about the topic if she'd provide the information she knew they needed. "I did. Black baseball cap, gloves out of season, worn coat, all his clothing seemed worn actually, stubble, long hair, not well taken care of," She listed the details methodically. "I don't know how long he spent at the Captain America or Howling Commando's exhibits, but he was over at by the Howling Commando's biography walls when I passed by a little past 4:00, and was still there when we were closing down at 5:30. I approached him, told him we were closing and he would need to leave." "It startled him, not like he didn't know I was there, but that he wasn't expecting me to speak to him." She said, drawing her eyebrows together ever so slightly as she pulled the details of the memory to the forefront of her mind and recounted them. "I gave him a pamphlet about the exhibit, told him he could come back the next day at 10 am on the dot when we open if he wanted. He wasn't a fighter, let me escort him out quietly and I didn't see him the next day when I came in. No, I did not see what direction he went when he left." Steve was silent, as was Sam. It wasn't much, but Steve clung to the fact that he had been there, had been interested in the Captain America exhibit, had even been interested in his own exhibit. There was still a bit of Bucky in there, however fragmented, however buried under years of Hydra and blood, and that little confirmation gave a burst of fuel to the fragment of burning hope that had settled beneath his ribcage, nestled beside his heart.

Keeping this an open tag, if you're reading this and want to participate, go for it. (I just like any excuse to share what I'm writing). Key words are: sharp, whole, protect, echo

#wip word search #word search tag game #writing #wip #oc #my fics #tag game

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