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sebastianshaw · 1 year

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(I made an Alt-Marauders winter holiday fic on the wonderful suggestion of my brilliant buddy @emmatriarchy! Credit also to @sammysdewysensitiveeyes whom I share this fic universe with and who contributed the ideas for Pyro! Characterization is a little flat/2D and a bit sappy in this but well...it’s a holiday special, that’s how it goes.)

“Is anyone here even Christian?” Claudine’s question cut through the budding discussion on-board the Marauder about what to do for Christmas on the high seas. “I was born an amnesiac clone in a lab,” Maddie said, “I wasn’t raised in any religion.” “Gran brought me up with some stories about Jesus and what,” Pyro, said, “We did Easter and Christmas and such, but we wasn’t real serious about it. Didn’t go to church much. Don’t even remember what denomination we was. Catholic, I guess, since I got named Saint John.” “My mother and did Christmas but just gifts and stuff,” Shinobi said, “No Jesus, she was Shinto and Buddhist. “I’ve never had a use for religion,” Shaw scoffed, “Nor its meaningless rituals. I understand why ancient man marked the solstices and equinoxes and so on, it was a material event that had material benefits or consequences for the people who celebrated it. But the winter nights getting shorter has no material meaning for me now, and nor does it even apply in this tropical weather.” “I didn’t celebrate Christmas or Hanukkah, but I did know about them growing up,” Haven said, “We respected Christianity and its message but didn’t practice its customs, anymore than we practiced Jewish or Muslim holidays. Of course, I hold events for children of those faiths, but for myself, no. But since my father was Maratha, we did do the Khandoba festival though. It’s a six-day celebration in honor of the god Khandoba by Marthas and Deshasth Brahmans.” “I’m kind of like Haven,” Claudine answered her own question last, “I’m open to all kinds of things but specific to none.” She was greeted by looks of surprise. “What?” Everyone sort of hemmed and hawed, til Shaw said it plainly, “I cannot speak for the others but given your academic inclinations I assumed you too sensible for such superstitions.” “Ah, yes, all scientists must be atheists, faith and science are inherently incompatible,” Claudine crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, “You know, that’s what religious extremists think too, but when they say it, we call them close-minded!” “She has a very good point,” Haven said, “Claudine, I apologize for the presumption. I shouldn’t have made such biased assumptions.” “I guess with the things we’ve seen, it’s hard to rule anything out,” Maddie admitted, “I mean. . .I’ve been up close and personal more than I’d like with actual demons.” “Which are beings from another dimension, not fallen angels,” Shaw pointed out dryly. “Beings from another dimension does fit demonic beings in Hinduism,” Haven pointed out, “Rasatala, one of the lower planes, is the world of the mighty but cruel Asuras, for instance. But this debate isn’t over whether ancient faiths have a place in a modern world of literal gods and demons—though I’d love the continue the conversation later with anyone who would like?---it’s whether we should have a sort of celebration. Since none of us are Christian per se, perhaps something else?” “I say we should!” said Shinobi, “We’re due for a party!” “First good argument there’s been here,” Shaw grunted grudgingly. “Yeah!” Pyro said, “And since we’re makin’ it up, we can make it have any tradition we want! Building mutant culture!” “I think that sounds wonderful,” Haven enthused, “I’ll brainstorm ideas,” Claudine offered. “I guess I’ve not had a lot of. . .any kind of winter holidays in my life,” Maddie said, trying not to think of the Christmases she’d spent with Scott, “I’ll take what I can get. I like the idea of it being just mine. Or, at least, something I helped make.” Shaw rolled his eyes, “Just don’t expect me to bankroll it.” “Hey, here’s an idea,” Pyro shot out, “How about we have a holiday where we celebrate our freedom by PUTTING ALL BILLIONAIRES ON A RAFT OUT TO SEA IN A STORM?” “Sounds grand,” Shaw returned in an unfussed tone, “Be sure to make one big enough for my AND Ms. Dastoor then.” While Pyro struggled with a retort, Shinobi was already asking the real questions, “First we need theme colors! What’s taken?” “Christmas pretty much owns red, white, and green,” Pyro said, glad for a chance to extricate himself. “And Hanukkah has blue and white,” Haven listed, “Yalda has a deep shade of red as well, Bodhi day uses white or multi-colored lights that symbolize the many pathways to enlightenment, Kwanza is red and black and green, Khandoba’s festival doesn’t have an official color palette but he was said to be shining golden like the sun and have a face covered in turmeric powder, and now that I think about it, the brightly colored flowers are most often golden yellow and soft pink–” “Pink!” Shinobi exclaimed, “That’s it! Oh but we’ll make it hot pink instead of pastel, so we’re not copying Khandoba!” “Oh I don’t think it’s copyrig–” Haven started. “And you can’t have pink without purple!” Shin continued, “And we’ll make it SPARKLY!” “Right on!” Pyro encouraged, “And like Shaw said, we’re in the tropics, so tropical flowers, eh?” “Oh, we could make fake flowers that look like the Krakoa flowers! Perfect!” Claudine put in. “How about tropical foods and drinks then?” Maddie said, “Or just, whatever we can catch. Ever noticed we never do much fishing anymore? I guess the novelty isn’t there anymore. Oh, but, unless it’s ice fishing, it’s not very wintery, and this is going to be a winter holiday. . .” “Winter isn’t the same everywhere,” Claudined reminded her, “Case in point, like you yourself said, there’s no ice here. We’re all in shorts when we go on deck.” “We should definitely tell stories,” Pyro was seriously getting into it now. “Of the adventures we’ve had the past year!” Maddie added, getting excited now too, “And hope to have next year!” “Things we’ve seen and discovered and hope to learn!” Claudine proclaimed. “People we’ve met,” Haven said, warm fondness in her voice. “Fun we’ve had!” Shinobi shot a fist into the air. Everyone looked expectantly at Shaw for his contribution, and after a moment he groaned, “Things we’ve accomplished, how’s that? Worded saccharine enough for your lot?” “Saccharine means sugary, we need pavlova!” Pyro piped up, “And a cookout with sausages! And sledding! My gran used to tell me so many stories about sledding in winter back in England where she grew up–” “There’s no snow, you fool!” Shaw said. “Oh, we’ll figure a way out,” Pyro locked eyes wickedly with Claudine, counting on the idea that she would have ideas. “So, we have food and colors and some activities. . what is the foundation though?” Claudine asked the room, “It’s not religious, so what is it about? Mutant culture doesn’t seem fair, not all of us are mutant.” “It can’t really be about family either,” pondered Maddie, “The only people here who are even related, don’t want to be.” “Can still be about who you’re with, though,” pointed out Pyro, “Found family. Well. . .no, you guys aren’t family to me, that’d be more Dom and some of the Brotherhood. . .but you don’t have t’be my family t’be important, know what I mean.” “I know exactly what you mean,” Haven said, “I think celebrating personal connections, even the ones that aren’t the MOST important in our lives—or, in some cases, people we may not be all that fond of—has its place too.” “And it’s unique,” Claudine added, “I’ve never heard of a holiday about that.” “Yeah, I mean, there’s HOW many holidays that are about family and loved ones?” Maddie said, “I think “a holiday for people you just kinda fell in with and you’re not crazy about all of them but you’re together in this for now” is a pretty relevant angle for not just us, but a lot of people.” “An untapped market,” Shaw said. “And the Krakoan flowers control the gates for traveling,” Haven thought aloud, “We’re using them for decoration. . .and we met by traveling .” “It’s a symbol of journeying together,” Pyro concluded, “We might not be together for life, or even for long, but we’re together now.” “Much to my annoyance.” “Oh shut up Shaw, it's mutual!” “Now we just need to name it,” Claudine pointed out, halting the argument in the bud as the pair—and everyone else—pondered it. “Maybe. . .” Haven said after a long moment, “Maybe, much like what we all are together—some of us family but not all, some of us friends but not all, some of us. . .antagonistic to each other. . .but not all. . .it remains, for now, undefined.” And they all liked that. Because whatever it was, it was theirs. END (Epilogue: Claudine rigged up a water-sled for Pyro!)

#fic #alt marauders #out of shirt

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maburito · 3 years

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What IF do u recommend? 👀

ALRIGHT so since i keep falling on new if games and have a lot on my to read list I will make a second part of this list ozijfazorgj. But for now here are some of the IF games i highly recommend!

The Wayhaven Chronicles : First I'm starting with the obvious (that I've already recommended before i know shut up) Wayhaven Chronicles! After a strange murder in the usually tranquil town of Wayhaven, the newly appointed detective (aka the MC aka you) is gonna have to work with 4 beautiful vampires to "solve" this mystery. It currently has two books with a complete demo of the third book available. Honestly if you have followed my blog recently you saw me scream about this game cos I am obsessed and seriously i really recommend it, even if vampires aren't usually your thing.

Fallen Hero Rebirth : Oh boy, Fallen Hero, literally everything is in the title, and not at the same time. Basically you play as a former hero who's decided to become a villain for reasons i will absolutely not spoil bc it would be criminal. But know that this story is glorious, you can choose what kind of villain you would be (from an anarchist/anti hero type to a full blown heartless villain, everything is possible) and choose how your villain costume looks like. And of course you have different love interests all of them super interesting (tho i am very soft for Ortega, the Doctor and Argent but mostly the Doctor got me like 🥺🥺🥺 ). It currently has one book out with the second book demo almost all out called : "Fallen Hero Retribution".

Mindblind : Alright this, made me cry. Like actual tears came out of my eyes and i hate it ezokrafoprkg. In a world where the majority of people either have telepathy and other mental superpowers OR at least enough mind defense to not be too affected by those mental superpowers, your MC is the only "Zero" who's mind is basically an open book and a possible puppet for anyone with mental superpowers. Sucks even more when the MC family are basically renowned superheroes. For now only the demo is out and honestly i can't wait for the full book because this story has me hooked!

Speaker : Once again, a supernatural story because i can never get tired of them okay??? This time you can play as "a Speaker". Born from a generation of Seers, you went to the world a few seconds after ur twin sister, which means she got the traumatising visions while you're the only one who can "understand" them somewhat. Or at least try to make sense of them. But of course everything becomes troublesome when visions get more frequent and violent. Great premise, Lovable LI's (looking at Az, Rory and Kana 👀👀) what more could you want?

When It Hungers (formerly Smoke and Velvet on dashingdon) : First just so you know, the game is currently on dashingdon as Smoke and Velvet but will be moved to Twine with the title as "When it hungers" (u can go see the author tumblr if u curious). Anyway, as a lover of horror stories i can't wait to see more of When It Hungers, even if i made the mistake of reading this at night the first time 😔. The coolest thing ? You can choose to make your MC in three different monster : Basilik, Hellhound or a Haunted Doll, and each of them have a different past based on that choice.

A Tale Of Crowns : Basically A Tale of Crowns is a story based on a fantasy world (inspired by the Middle Eastern) where the big ruler aka The Crown is sorta chosen by the gods and can only be recognised by their golden eyes. Except that usually future crowns are found years before a current crown's death, and your character has been running away their whole lifes. I honestly don't even know how to begin to tell you how much i love this story. The universe built around it is just so well done, the love interests are all interesting for different reasons and i feel transported every time i read it. Even now saying this feels like too little but as usual im not good with english, but yeah just trust me it really deserves more than one look.

The Hunt : Demon Eyes : Just like When It Hungers, this IF is still on dashingdon but will be moved to Twine just so you know opzeakfaz. Anyway the premise is basically you play as a hunter, as in a hunter of supernaturals, whether you think all supernaturals are bad or think there are good ones is up to you, though u know, most of the love interests are supernaturals pzokfga. BUT! One day u end up possessed by a demon you were hunting and only break free TWO YEARS later! So u gonna have to try and find out what the hell happened all this time. There's not much out yet but im already really intrigued by the premise!

Bloodmoon : Who doesn't love a good story about werewolves? If you don't then im sorry you have such a lack of taste 😔. A story which updates every full moon (literally) about a clan of werewolves who just moved into a city, and unfortunatly it doesn't go as well as it could. Honestly between all the unique RO's (Vicky is my personal favorite even if Carrie and Shawnie also got me heart), the twist on the relationship between the wolves and the moon, and the whole story and dynamics between all the characters, Bloodmoon is a delight to read. And yeah i definitely re-read it way too many times oiajgfaoiej.

The Exile : Are you tired of fantasy stories? Well too bad here's one more because i love them!! And boooy this one got me obssesed. Playing as a former commander who was once admired by the kingdom they had vow to protect, they are now a fallen hero due to a tragedy that they cannot even remember. Between new encounters and former allies, trouble just keep finding them no matter what. Sorry for the bad summary but honestly the demo of this story got me so hooked!!! And you can basically choose what kind of "semi magic creature" your mc is! (werewofl, phoenix, etc). Seriously give it a go you won't regret it

#askxaquestion #Anonymous #thank you for the question anon! AND SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG IM A PIECE OF SHIT #PopkopKOPKG #god im gonna have to tag all this....#TWC #Fallen Hero : Rebirth #Mindblind #Speaker #When it hungers #A Tale Of Crowns #The Hunt : Demon Eyes #Bloodmoon #The Exile #also idk if you noticed BUT IM REALLY SHIT AT SUMMARISING #LIKE SERIOUSLY #THAT SUCKS

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elysiadjarin · 3 years

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Day 1: Somnophilia

Day 1 of Kinktober! The first prompt is of course, somnophilia. Here’s my masterlist for my Kinktober challenge.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ only content. Consensual somnophilia, cumplay, unprotected sex, nonhuman character, exophilia

Tags: Hat Man x reader, exophilia, kinktober

He Comes at Night

At first, you hadn��t been sure whether it was just another case of sleep paralysis, or actually something… else.

He always came at night, standing in your doorway as you lay on your back, unable to move. Though you were used to sleep paralysis and the oftentimes terrifying figures that came along with it, this one had been different every time it showed up. It just stood in your doorway, never really moving, just watching. You never felt the usual fear that came along with most sleep paralysis demons, just a sense of… calm.

It had gotten to the point where you’d simply learned to ride it out, accepting the calm of its presence until you fell back asleep. If anything, you’d started feeling a sense of comfort from its presence. Even living alone, you felt as though it were there as another presence, just to keep you some company. You’d even thought with a flash of amusement that maybe it was there to protect you.

But that was until a few nights ago. You’d found yourself abruptly awake again, immobile in bed. But it had been different. Your eyes wouldn’t open, and you distinctly felt something heavy on your blankets, pinning you to the bed. It felt far more tangible than anything else you’d ever experienced in a moment of sleep paralysis, and it unnerved you.

Of course, that’s when you heard… that. A whisper, slithering around you, crawling against your sheets as tangibly as the weights.

Sssso delicioussss. A poke at you. He’ssss finally not here. Hey, are you… awake?

Despite the situation, it wasn’t so much fear as annoyance that gripped you in the moment. If this sleep paralysis demon was enacting paralysis on you, why would you be able to respond?

A low cackle raked down your spine. That’sssss right, you can’t move, can you. Well, you won’t need to, sssssoon. Don’t worry, the chilling voice sneered, I’ll make ssssure you can feel it.

You’d just started to feel the panic set in when the weight was ripped off of you. A loud, fearful shriek pierced through the room, followed by a distinct crunching and gurgling.

I didn’t mean to, Hat Man, have merccccccy— The voice choked off in the thick air, just as your eyes snapped open.

Thick, black slime dripped from the mangled, gangly body that hung limply in the air. The figure that had been standing in your doorway every night now stood by your beside, a giant arm outstretched as dark talons clenched around the smaller creature. The black ichor dripped from its claws, and it threw the broken body down on the floor like a rag doll. It turned its head toward you again, but relief had crashed through you at its appearance.

The tall figure, now that it had appeared so close to your bedside, clearly towered at least seven feet tall. But even when it bent its whole body over, face nearing yours, you still didn’t fear it. It had leaned over, close enough that you could imagine that you felt its nonexistent breath on your face. Then it brushed against your forehead, as though it had kissed you gently back to sleep. You’d fallen back asleep as though knocked out.

And now, as you stood at your kitchen counter, holding a mug of tea, your mind had started to wander. Specifically, you’d started to wonder about your mysterious guardian. What had started out as a private sort of joke had turned into a reality, and you weren’t entirely sure what to make of it. The sensations and feelings had been far too concrete to be just a hallucination or just part of another sleep paralysis experience. Even now, you could still feel the sensation of the soft, gentle wisp of shadow brushing across your forehead.

Sighing, you dumped the mug into the sink and headed for bed, pulling at the hem of your large T-shirt. In the room, you slid off your shorts and put them on a chair, only in your underwear and shirt to sleep. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you took a moment to glance around the room. Your mind wandered to the weird, creepy spirit from the night before.

Tentatively, you decided to speak into the darkness. “Hey… I don’t know if you’re here right now, or—or listening, but… Hat Man. If you’re there, thank you. For saving me,” you said, tugging at your shirt. “I know I usually can’t move or talk, but… if you want company, you can come sit or lay down.” A little embarrassed at your own offer, you flopped back on the bed and rolled under the covers, burying your face in your pillow.

Even if it — he? — were there listening and you weren’t just talking to thin air, what would he think of your invitation? Was that too forward? Or weird?

You weren’t sure when exactly you fell asleep, but you certainly jerked awake sometime later when the bed next to you dipped. Your eyes opened, this time, and you saw the hulking figure almost meekly slide into bed beside you. His weight made your body slightly tip towards him, and he shifted to face you just in time to catch you against his chest. You noticed, now fully pressed against him, that he did have a slight, dusky sort of warmth, like the faint touch of a sunbeam filtering though curtains.

His giant talon paused, and he seemed to vacillate, as though unsure what to do with himself now that he was there. Tentatively, his fingers brushed against your arm. Your body seemed to gain a little bit more movement, just enough for you to sigh and lean further into his chest. He made you feel safe, and his presence was comforting. He didn’t seem to mind your advances, so you decided not to feel guilty as his giant arm wrapped around your back.

A soft, wispy hum escaped you, and you let yourself relax with the minimal movements the paralysis seemed to be allowing. You half-wished you could talk, just to speak with him. But at the same time, you could feel the drowsiness descend again. He felt too comfortable, and the solid weight of his body against yours made you melt like putty into the bed.

As you fell asleep, you swore you could feel the Hat Man brush another soft kiss to your forehead.

“Whoa, wait, you got yourself a Hat Man?” Your Tiefling coworker gave you a surprised look. “They usually only come into your life because they’re drawn in some way to protect you. Have you been doing okay? Staying safe?”

You nodded. “Well, I mean, now I am thanks to him,” you clarified, eyebrows furrowing. “What with my sleep paralysis and that weird… other thing.” You shuddered a little in disgust at the memory. “He’s been protecting me from whatever that thing was, I’m assuming.”

Harlow gave you a long look. “I didn’t want to really bring this up before, but do you know of anything in your heritage that might be… well, attractive to spirits? I’ve noticed before that you seem to draw the attention of non humans.”

You sighed, shoulders slumping. “Well, you’re not wrong,” you admitted, rubbing your arm. “When I was born, my grandmother told my parents that I had ‘the blood of a beacon,’” you said. “I had a talisman she gave me, but… it’s been years, so maybe the potency has worn off.”

He nodded. “Probably. Especially if you have beacon blood; I’m not surprised you drew a Hat Man to protect you. You might as well be the Ultimate Desire for them,” he remarked.

Your eyes widened at his comment. “Ultimate Desire?” you asked, startled. “I mean, I know that my blood is attractive to spirits for its potency in spirit energy. But what does Ultimate Desire mean? And why would Hat Man want that?” You noted that he called it a Hat Man. So it apparently was a type of spirit or entity.

“Hmm.” Harlow pursed his lips. “Well, an easy way to put it would be… the Hat Men are guardians of sources of energy like you. They’re fueled by the energy you have, so… it wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that he’s a personal bodyguard manifested by your beacon blood. The more your proximity or attention ‘fuels’ him and the more energy you give him, the stronger he’ll be and the better defense.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “Huh. So I’m basically… the ultimate source, I guess. I mean, for Hat Man.”

“Yep!” Then he gave you a sly grin. “So, you gonna get up close and personal with him?” His eyebrows wriggled at you teasingly.

Flushing, you reached over and shoved his shoulder. “Harlow, seriously!” you groaned.

He laughed, rubbing his arm exaggeratedly. “Aww c’mon, I’m just saying. He’s basically the one least likely to betray you. In other words, the safest way to get laid—“

You flounced off, leaving him to laugh and try to wheedle his way back into your good graces. Still, your mind wouldn’t stop wandering to the Hat Man. Wondered how much safer you’d feel if he decided to be just a little more handsy…

Whacking your face with your binder, you shook your head and scolded yourself. Really, Harlow must be influencing you more than you expected.

You slumped against the counter, groaning.

Maybe Harlow really had gotten to you, more than you’d really anticipated at first. His words kept ringing through your mind, leading to thought trains that you hadn’t really anticipated.

He’s a personal bodyguard… The more your proximity or attention ‘fuels him’ and the more energy you give him… He’s basically the one least likely to betray you.

With a defeated sigh, you picked yourself up and dragged yourself to your room. You’d wanted to go to bed early, for more reasons than you’d care to admit to yourself. Still, even as you turned the lights off and went to go change, you wondered if he would return tonight. If he’d still join you. If he’d stay.

Tugging at the T-shirt you’d slid on, you hesitated for only a moment before sliding your underwear off. Tossing it aside, you slid into bed, rolling onto your side and staring at the empty space across from you. Reaching out, you smoothed your hand against the sheets.

“I wish you were here, Hat Man,” you whispered into the quiet darkness.

To your surprise, your body almost instantly froze. A dark shape walked into view by the side of the bed, and the now-familiar talons lifted the sheets to slide into bed beside you. You vaguely wondered if the sleep paralysis the whole time had just been the spirits and now your Hat Man having an effect on you thanks to the lure of your blood.

Before you could think too much about it, though, the burly figure slid closer. Still, he didn’t hold you like he had before, and a pang of disappointment rushed through you. His arm lifted, then he seemed to hesitate.

Your body loosened a little, giving you that smidgen of movement you’d been granted last time. Without even a moment of thought, you rolled forward and snuggled into his chest again, the dusky warmth of his body soaking into you again. You sighed, gazing at the lines of his chest and the slashed scars that crossed the dark planes. Almost thoughtlessly, you traced your fingers against the edges of the scars.

You wondered how he’d gotten them. Were you the reason? Because he protected you? A pang of guilt ran through you for a moment.

He shifted, finally putting his arm around you again, as though he’d been waiting for the permission. His head bent a little, and he carefully seemed to nuzzle your hair, as though checking on you.

A little sleepy, you glanced up at him, noting the curve of his jaw. “Hi,” you breathed, your murmur quiet and wispy. Still, he pulled back and seemed to observe you curiously. His eyes, you finally noticed, had a faint sort of pale blue glow, dim in the darkness and only obvious from how close you were.

“Thank you,” you whispered, every word an effort. “For— this—“ Your fingers slipped across the lurid scars on his chest, your eyes starting to slide closed. But you fought it for a moment, determined to just… thank him. Properly. Mustering as much energy as you could, you sluggishly forced yourself up a little, just enough to brush your lips against his chin, the closest part of his face you could reach.

The talons tightened briefly against your waist, as though they’d convulsed in surprise. He seemed to freeze in front of you, processing what you’d just done.

You let out a sleepy hum, the drowsiness descending on you far faster than you would have liked. You wanted to talk with him. You wondered if he had a voice.

Harlow took one look at you. “Ohhh, someone’s sexually frustrated.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I can’t— Harlow,” you whined, feeling your entire face heat up.

He leaned against your desk with a sympathetic grin. “Look, if I call you out it’s only because I’m in the same boat or I’m about to help you. In this case both applies. Anyway, so, spill the tea.” He tilted his head, his polished horns gleaming under the office lights.

You sighed, then confessed everything to him. From the way you’d started feeling about your Hat Man to the way you’d started to… fantasize. Frustrated, you ran your fingers through your hair.

“I just… I don’t know if it’s because I’m lonely and he’s there, or if I— I don’t even know,” you sighed, closing your eyes in defeat. “I just don’t know.”

He chuckled, reaching over to pat your arm. “Look, like I said, Hat Men are there for protection. And by the sounds of it, yours is actually attracted to you. Spirits and entities like him don’t actively search for contact like that if they’re not interested in it.” He pursed his lips. “Not to mention, if you do actually get some— how big is he?”

You gave him a half-hearted glare. “Harlow—“

He snickered. “How tall is he. Seriously, you’re the one with the dirty mind here.” He flashed you that infuriating smirk as he teased you.

You rolled your eyes, giving up. “I don’t know, probably around seven feet? It felt like it, anyway, when he was standing beside the bed.”

“Oh so he’s stacked.” Harlow cackled. “But really, as I was saying, if you do bag that one, it’s quite the mutual benefit. It’ll be a direct method of energy transfer, not to mention that he’s absolutely probably going to be loyal to you if he gets those kinds of privileges.” He shrugged flippantly. “But that’s besides the point. Here’s what I’m going to suggest, so take this as you will.”

You left work that evening with your face burning but a solid plan from Harlow. You’d figure out later if you wanted to smack him or thank him.

That night, as you crawled into bed, you let out a breath and sat there, clutching the blankets. Biting your lip, you glanced toward the door.

“I hope you’ll join me again, tonight,” you ventured, calling out into the darkness of your room. Swallowing, you twisted the sheets in your fingers. “And… of course, you don’t have to, but… I’d love to be able to… to talk to you. Or— or hear more about you. If you can or want to communicate. I just…” You sighed.

“I don’t know if I have to not move when you’re around. I’m not sure how that works, but either way, I— I like having you around,” you admitted. “So… thank you. For protecting me. I hope you stay. You’re welcome to make yourself at home, here.” Taking one last glance at the door, you turned over and lay down. You self-consciously rubbed your legs together, almost embarrassed by your lack of clothing besides the T-shirt.

Would it be too obvious? Was it too much? Or maybe would that be enough-?

The bed behind you dipped just as you felt yourself seized by the paralysis again. But this time, it already felt minimal, as though the tight hold had been laxed even more than before. You rolled back, feeling your back hit the warmth of his chest. Every night, it seemed that he gained a little more solidity and form, and even more of a distinct body heat. The large arm wrapped around you again, sliding across your side and down your belly, talons slipping under your waist.

You hummed, the calm and contentment washing over you again with his presence. “Hi,” you murmured, your fingers managing to curl around one of his talons.

This time, to your mingled surprise and delight, you felt the soft huff of air against your neck like breath. It wasn’t really a sound, but it was something a little more. His face nudged against your neck and shoulder, while his lower body curled up as though to surround you as much as possible. Your heart pounded, almost giddy with the happiness that rushed through you.

“Missed you,” you breathed, your words less slurred than before. You weren’t fighting the sleepiness as hard tonight, and you wondered if it really was an effect that your Hat Man had on you or if it was something else. Still, you relished it.

His movements behind you paused, and you panicked for a split second, wondering if you’d scared him away. But then he nuzzled against you again, another huff washing over your neck. In the next moment, you heard a soft, rumbling growl, so deep that you almost wondered if you’d imagined it. The moment you heard it, your breath hitched. Your stomach clenched at the sound, heat pooling between your legs.

Your teeth sank into your lower lip helplessly, your entire body both aching and on fire where he touched you, held you. Chest heaving with a burning breath, you tried to control your reaction, suppressing your shiver. You didn’t want him to leave. Wanted him to stay.

Like a whisper, words bloomed in your mind, so softly that it took you a moment to realize you didn’t hear them aloud. So pretty. So soft, so kind. The deep voice, laced with a soft Brooklyn accent, took you off guard as it slithered through your mind.

Your back arched slightly, heat splashing across your cheeks. Before you could quite stop yourself, the way you arched made your ass press back against him. A soft gasp wrenched from your lips as you felt something distinctly hard and thick press back against you. It twitched slightly, and you could feel something damp soak into your T-shirt, smearing against your skin.

A low grunt sounded behind you, just as his hips jerked away. Abruptly, his body started to slide away from you, as though he were going to leave.

The desperation flashed through you, and you found yourself suddenly free to move. You rolled over, hand reaching out.

The both of you completely froze. Your eyes, wide open, riveted on his, your fingers splayed across the scars on his chest. His blue eyes, dim but clearly focused on your face as his chest heaved under your hand.

“Please,” it spilled from your lips, quiet and desperate in the silence. “Don’t leave.”

After a moment, he gingerly lifted his hand and reached for your face, talons barely brushing across your cheek. The whisper floated through your mind again. Sorry… The embarrassment was clear in his voice, and a pale blue flush spread over the area of his cheeks. For some reason, it made him even more endearing.

“You don’t have to be,” you whispered back, sure that your own cheeks were flushed with arousal and embarrassment.

He drew closer again, as though he couldn’t help himself. His face neared yours. So pretty. So warm. Sweet. The murmur was followed by the revealing of his mouth. A maw that split open the dark silhouette, black tongue sliding over sharp fangs. Wouldn’t want ta take advantage, sweetheart. Your acceptance of his advances seemed to embolden him. Don’t wanna be too greedy.

You swallowed. “I… I want you to.” Your breath quickened a little, glancing down at his maw. “You can… I— I want you to have my energy,” you offered shyly.

The eyes flared, trailing down your body. Want you. Soft. Sweet. Pretty. He seemed fixated on the description, repeating them again. Still, you couldn’t help but find yourself liking his attention.

“You can have me. Whenever.” You bit your lip briefly. “Even if I’m asleep, if you need energy… if you— if you want.”

His breath washed over your cheek as he bent closer than ever before. Kind. His telepathic voice washed over you, saturated with adoration. Kind to Varen. His tongue gently swiped over your cheek.

You half-whimpered. “Kiss?” you pleaded, desperate for more contact.

His mouth slid across yours, gentle and without a hint of teeth. His tongue flickered over your lips, and you welcomed it. His tongue slid across yours, lithe and gentle. His talons wrapped around your waist again, pulling you into his chest. His name slipped from your lips, soft and needy, and he responded instantly in the way his body shifted closer, half-pinning you under him. His lips slid across yours, trailing down your cheek, your jaw, your throat.

To your frustration, you could feel yourself getting almost unbearably sleepy, the drowsiness tugging at you again. You suddenly wondered if it had to do with him drawing on your energy, feeding off of it, but in the next moment you were completely distracted by the way he gently rutted against your thigh.

Despite your best efforts, you fell asleep.

You dreamed.

Dreamed of Varen, mostly, your mind fantasizing about his claws wrapping around you, pushing you further into the bed, hands wandering further. Of him sliding your T-shirt up, tangling his talons around it, using it as leverage to keep your body still as he slid his cock between your thighs. You swore you could feel it, could feel his talons pricking faintly against your skin as he rutted between your thighs, his tongue dragging over your shoulder and up the arch of your neck.

You could even feel the way his precum started dribbling down your skin, smearing across your thighs, mingling with your own wetness, coating his cock as he slid it against you. And then his cock angling up, just as his talons tightened around your hips and pulled you down against him. His tip slid into you, just as his breath washed over your shoulder.

You woke up as Varen’s maw closed over your shoulder and he pulled you all the way down onto him. Still groggy and half-disoriented from waking up, you could only let out a strangled whine and arch your back, unwittingly pressing yourself further against him. The insistent throb of him inside you and the way your body clenchedaround him was proof that it wasn’t just a dream.

You were still groggy, whimpers spilling from your lips as you lay there pliantly, not resisting anything he was doing. You stayed half-asleep, already blissed out just by the sensation of him filling you.

So good. His soft accent curled through your frazzled mind, satisfied and soothing. So pretty. Doing so good, sweetheart. It’s okay, you don’t have to do anything. Gonna take care of you, pretty.

The knot in your core kept tightening, coiling with every gentle thrust he made, his hips fairly rolling against you. He shifted behind you, his claws gentle but decisive as he rolled you onto your stomach. His body followed, pinning you under him as his legs tangled with yours and his talons around your hips held you in place. He mouthed your shoulder, just barely pricking you with his fangs as his tongue soothed over the soft bites.

Your eyelashes barely fluttered, your body bathed in the dusky heat of pleasure. Despite being half-asleep, the way he steadily pumped in and out of you was so careful, so gentle. You already felt entirely wrecked, tears slipping down your cheeks as you whined. The angle and the way he curled up inside you kept hitting that one spot that sent stars flashing behind your eyelids every time he thrust. Your fingers clenched in the pillow, body trembling. You were so close.

Pretty little thing. Varen cooed, infatuation saturating every word, every thrust into you. Being so good. So… close… The soft, deep growl rumbled through his chest and down into you as well.

The tight coil inside you burst, like a coiled spring. The dusky heat washed through your body in a wave of pleasure, your orgasm roiling through you with a steady but undeniable strength. Varen fucked you through it, extending your orgasm as you trembled and sobbed out his name. He never let go of you, whispering your name as he kissed your throat and praised you softly.

It wasn’t until you’d come down that he came, jerking against you and letting out a low moan. His hips pressed flush against yours, his seed spilling into you with a rush of warmth that settled in you, soaking into the rest of your body. You basked in it, utterly spent and satisfied in a way you couldn’t remember ever being before.

Vaguely, you felt Varen roll back onto his side, pulling you along with him. Though he didn’t pull out of you, he still nuzzled against your neck and curled around you, pulling you flush against him.

You fell back asleep to the sensation of warmth and comfort.

When you woke up the next morning, Varen was gone. The only proof you had of last night was a small smear of faint blue on your inner thigh and the feeling of warmth still pooling in your belly, like a kernel of heat. With a smile, you looked up at the doorway again.

“Thank you, Varen,” you said softly. “I’ll see you tonight.”

The only answer you received was a small flash of blue that flickered in the doorway.

~ Bonus! ~

Harlow took one look at you as you walked into work before letting out a whoop. “Heck yeah, bestie got laid!” He laughed, hugging you.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to be annoyed at him, though you shook your head with a sigh. “Thanks for your advice, Harl,” you said, smiling.

He grinned, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “Course, what are best friends for? Best wingman award who?” he cackled. “Anyway, tell me the dirty details. Oh, should we go celebrate?”

You shook your head. “Never change, Harl. Never change.”

#elysiadjarinkinktober #kinktober #my writing #mywriting #elysiadjarin #nsft #x reader #exophilia #terato #monsterfucker #monster lover #xyou

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belphies-cuhm-sluht · 3 years

Note

hello! can I please request an angst fic with Satan losing control and getting angry at the MC because they made a deal with someone and is willing to give up their life just to bring Lilith back for the brothers? and yes Satan is in love but he just didn't tell them yet! thank you so much for opening requests, can't tell you how much I adore your writings <3

Not Your Choice To Make (Satan x GN!MC Angst)

What had he done to deserve you? What had any of his brothers done to deserve someone like you? You were caring, always so happy, and you were selfless. So, so selfless. As if any of them deserved a person like you in their lives, and he knew that the answer was no. You were the kind of human who’s name went on the reservation list to Heaven as soon as you were born. Apparently the big man upstairs had a plan for everyone, and your plan had been set in motion the day that you were brought into the world. Had God known what you were going to do though? Did he know that you would end up down here? If so, why would he allow it? What kind of God was he to allow you to be brought into such a horrid place, the worst place, biblically speaking? It didn’t make sense, and now… now everything was messed up because you were good… you were too good. You should have never been brought here.

He had never even met his sister, but he knows that his brothers adored her, they loved her, and they missed her dearly, especially Beelzebub and Belphegor. Even with all that, it wasn’t your problem to fix, it wasn’t your problem to solve. Every single one of them loved Lilith, but every single one of them loved you as well, some more than others, although he’d never be able to tell you. “What do you mean you made a deal with someone to bring her back? Y/N, that is… that is the stupidest thing… Do you even remember who you talked to?” He was trying to stay calm, he really was, but this situation alone had him filled with rage, and his Avatar had nothing to do with it at all. How could you do something like that? To them… to him? It was so selfishly selfless, so careless. “Satan… I was just trying to do the right thing. I know how much everyone misses her and-” His head was shaking so fast, his hands balled up into tight fists as he tried to get your words out of his head.

“Everyone? Everyone misses her… you’re right. But do you have even the slightest inkingly of an idea how much we’d miss you? Losing you would be like losing her all over again to them.” Losing you would be the worst thing to ever happen to himself though. He’s never gone through loss, he’s never experienced the pain that comes along with it. That’s why he has to fix this as soon as possible. “Please calm down… the guy said that-” He let out a low growl, holding his hand up to silence you. He didn’t want to hear what the guy said, he just wanted this problem fixed. He wanted it solved, and as much as he hated to do it, he went to the only other person in the entire Devildom who could possibly help him.

The doors to Lucifer’s office were almost thrown off the hinges when Satan burst through them, pulling you along behind him. “Yes, Satan? If this is about something Mammon did, I don’t have-” Satan didn’t appreciate it, the way that Lucifer refused to even look up from his stupid paperwork to aknowledge him. He wouldn’t be bursting through the doors if it was a Mammon problem, hell, at this point he even wished it was a Mammon problem so he could handle it himself. “It’s not Mammon. It’s Y/N.” That got his attention real quick, his head snapping up from his desk to look at you, the way you stood behind Satan shyly, almost embarrassed… what could have happened? You didn’t look harmed, you didn’t look scared, even with the way that Satan was acting. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t want to reiterate the story, it would just take too long, and Satan actually agreed. There was no time to waste, and your reasoning, in his eyes, and hopefully in his brothers eyes as well didn’t justify your actions, as nice as they may have been. “She made a deal… with some guy that she doesn’t even know the name of… to bring Lilith back…” It was hard for him to even get the words out, they were upsetting, and they pissed him off. What you did pissed him off more than anything, but not because he was actually mad at you… he was mad at himself for letting you out of his sight long enough to even let something like this happen. Lucifer’s eyes were wide as he stared at you, his adams apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed hard, trying to let what Satan had told him sink in. “To bring… she can’t come back anyway… no one can bring her back. She’s… she’s dead. She’s been dead. Everyone knows that.” Everyone should know that. Of course, you didn’t… you didn’t know that at all, or else you wouldn’t have made a deal with the random demon in the first place. “Wh-What did you offer… to this demon, if I may ask.” Lucifer wasn’t the kind of guy to stutter, he never got tripped up on his words, but now he felt like he was on a race against time to get to the bottom of this, to sort all of this out. He needed to know every single detail, and this is the part that got Satan’s attention as well. He hadn’t heard about the actual… transaction, if you can call it that. He had only heard about why you did it.

“I offered.. My uh… my soul… my life…” The tension is the room was palpable, but so thick. The growl that had come out of Satan earlier was nothing compared to this. His Avatar was in full play now, his rage spurred on by this tornado of emotions that his body just couldn’t handle. How could anyone be able to handle this? “Oh no…” Was all Lucifer had to say as he fell back in his chair, dropping his face into his hands as he shook his head. That didn’t seem to help though, not at all. The next thing you knew, Satan was storming out of the office and up the stairs into his room, slamming his door shut, the force behind it was enough to rattle the pictures on the walls downstairs. “I just thought I could bring her back… I didn’t know…”

The books that were stacked up on his floor were all kicked over, scattered across the room as he broke down. “This is why humans don’t belong here… Y/N doesn’t belong here… never did.” But he knows that his life without you having come in it would have been dull, boring and depressing. He loved you, he loves you… but what’s the point in all of that now? What’s the point in having feelings for you, of ever having feelings for you? It wasn’t fair, not to you, not to him, and not to his brothers. “Wasn’t their choice to make…” He was mumbling to himself now as he fell back onto his bed, his hands covering his face, hoping that nobody would come into his room, but if they did, he would have time to wipe the stray tears that trickled down the corners of his eyes. There was no way to undo this, the deal had already been made. Even if they killed the guy, he would just end up back in Hell, and he would inevitably come at some point to retrieve your soul. You wouldn’t end up back in the Devildom though, you’d spend what would feel like forever in Purgatory, or stuck in limbo until the big man up in the clouds made a final decision on where you belong.

“Maybe if we just find him-” You were still down in Lucifer's office, trying to find ways to fix this, to make it all just go away. Every suggestion was turned down, and you didn’t know whether he was just becoming irritated with your list of “possible solutions” or if he was just exhausted. This whole thing was draining, because at the end of it all, Lucifer himself knew that there was nothing he could do to solve the problem at hand. “You don’t understand, Y/N. Demons aren’t simple, you must already know that much. They’re malicious and mischievous. They’ll do anything to make a deal, especially with someone as pure hearted as you are. Every demon down here knows about Lilith, and every single one of them already knows she can’t be brought back. Whoever he was, he took advantage of your kindness, and there is nothing that can be done about it. I’m sorry.” He shook his head, hating that he had to lay it out to you like that, but you needed to know. You were always so hopeful, that’s what got you stuck in this predicament in the first place, but there was no hope to be had, not anymore.

“Well… can’t we just get Lord Diavolo to find the guy…? Can’t he do something?” It was obvious that you were trying to hold back from crying because, like any normal person, you were terrified of dying, as you should be. This is why you don’t just run around the Devildom making deals with any random demon. Hell, you could have gone to one of them and asked, and they would have told you that what you were asking for is impossible. “No. I’ve already thought of that. It would spark issues, and our Lord wouldn’t want those kinds of issues to fall on his shoulders. Taking a deal away from a demon for one measly human, no offense… it would piss a whole lot of them off. I’m sorry.” He pushed himself up and away from his desk, walking around it to stand in front of you, grabbing your hands and pulling you up so he can look down at you. “Satan needs you right now… You should go be with him.”

Satan… he did need you. He needed you more than anything, not just right now, but always. You helped him, more than he’d like to admit, more than he’d ever admit. Whenever he was around you he felt like he had better control of himself, he felt like he could actually be happy. With you, he even questioned whether his Avatar should be wrath, because you washed away any ounce of anger he had in his body, or at least, you made him forget about it for the time being. Satan… who, when you finally entered his room again, was curled in on himself, apparently finally having broken down and fallen asleep while he was crying. He hadn’t even lost you not, not completely, but the feeling was there, it was distant at the moment, but it felt like it was growing larger the closer that it came. “Hey… It’s gonna be okay…” Your voice jolted him out of his sleep, his eyes bloodshot as they opened and looked up at you, and while he wanted to be angry at your hopeful statement, he couldn’t even find it in him. Had he used up all of his anger already? No.. that couldn’t be it. No.. it was just that… the only thing you could be was hopeful, just as he was. Hopeful that there would be some way to sort this all out, to make it seem like it never happened. There had to be a miracle. God might not be on their side, but you were still human, he had to be looking out for you, right? “Yeah… it’s all gonna be okay…” He hated lying to you, at least, it felt like he was lying, because in the moment, he wasn’t exactly sure that anything would be okay, and nothing would be “okay” if you actually died. So, just like you, he was holding onto what tiny thread of hope you both had left. It’s all he could do, it’s all any of you could do.

He pulled you down onto his bed with him, holding you close against his chest, and although he, for once, didn’t have anything to say… he hoped that his actions spoke for him. It wouldn’t be fair to tell you that he loved you now, you probably wouldn’t believe him if he did. You would tell him that he was just speaking out of fear, and while you would probably be right in the fact that he was saying it in that moment because he was scared, it wouldn’t mean that the feelings weren’t true. So he held you, tighter than he’d ever held anyone else, tighter than he had ever held you before. Maybe if he kept you close, nobody would be able to get to you… maybe…

“My Lord… I need you to get Barbatos to do something for me… for all of us… please.” Lucifer mumbled into the phone line. It was a last ditch effort, one that he hoped would work, because if it didn’t, he’d have to go higher… way higher. It was the only way, not just to protect you, but to protect Satan, to protect all of them from feeling that kind of pain again.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #om! shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me! shall we date #obey me Satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me satan x mc #satan avatar of wrath #om! Satan #obey me! Satan

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picwew · 3 years

Photo

SQUAD UP! It’s time for Yuna and his crew of miscreant demons!

(Picrews are here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here!)

The characters are, top to bottom, left to right--

Nakajima, Yuna: A human with unusually high magical potential. His specialty is the binding of demons into servitude, which he utilizes to stop particularly troublesome demons from threatening human populations across the globe. Most of the demons under his care were seduced by him, as he has quite a knack for making men want him. As such, several of his servants are vying for his favor, but, in his own words, “I don’t play favorites~”

Obviously, Yuna is a bit of a flirt. His tastes extend well beyond demons, into just about any non-human he can get his hands on. He has a ravenous appetite for handsome men, but no plans to settle down any time soon. It isn’t that romance doesn’t appeal to him, more that he’s still young and a little too free-spirited for anything permanent. The way he dotes on his servants, though, you’d certainly think he was in love with them, Nihil in particular.

Mourning Dove: Affectionately referred to by his coworkers as “Dovey”, this little fellow was the first of Yuna’s servants, and is therefore his most staunch defender. The details of his past are hazy, even in his own mind, but he was born into the slave trade, nameless, nothing, the psychological toll of which would not become apparent until his eventual escape. He was full of hatred for the humans who had callously treated him as property, and claimed many lives before Yuna was able to soothe his aching heart. “You’re pretty as a mourning dove,” Yuna told him. From that moment on, he decided that this would be his name.

Dovey is, above all, an empath. Much of his time recovering from a life of slavery was spent learning to feel again. Once he got the hang of it, however, he found that he felt a little too much, so much so that he’s become somewhat of a crybaby. When others are in pain, he is often the one to comfort them. His sweet disposition and cute appearance have earned him his coworkers’ love, although they still get a bit miffed with him whenever he tries to hog Yuna’s attention.

Dr. Callaway: An interesting case, and a tough nut to crack. Only Yuna knows his full name; no one knows his story. All he’s shared is that he was fingered for human experimentation, and that, no, he has neither learned his lesson nor wishes to. Still, he behaves himself well enough, perhaps because he is entirely obsessed with Yuna in the most unhealthy way. While most of his coworkers consider one another family, Dr. Callaway is detached and often mocking of their sentimentality.

As expected, Dr. Callaway is a terrible sadist. He takes great pleasure in hurting others in any way he can. Nowadays, this is limited almost entirely to insults and threats, but he has been known to get physical with others when Yuna isn’t looking. It doesn’t help that nothing seems to bother him in return. You could beat the man senseless, and he’d come out of it grinning like a jackal.

Corvo: This one was a misunderstanding--or, rather, a case of cultures clashing in a very gruesome manner. Corvo is a hybrid of demon and crowkin. Beastkin are not true demons, but are often lumped in with them, so mixed-race families are not uncommon. Unfortunately, this can lead to some problematic offspring, particularly when one or both of the parents are detached from human society. Corvo, like many crowkin, was taught that food is food, and that human meat is the most delicious of all. He bore no ill will toward humans, but his view of them as, essentially, cattle culminated in a visit from Yuna.

Following his binding, Corvo began the lengthy process of finding something he liked more than human flesh. This, as it turned out, was sweets--all sweets, from pastries, to ice cream, to candy. He had never had sweets before, and everyone agreed that they suited his bubbly, affectionate personality more than human flesh anyway. He is certainly the gentlest of all of Yuna’s servants, dedicated to his family and to protecting those in need. He’s especially fond of cats.

Erebus: Known by those who worship him as the Master of Crows, Erebus is an ill-understood being. He is ancient, but has had little to do with his own kind since time out of mind. Instead, he appears to have become so entwined with his worshipers that he can no longer live without their faith to sustain him. During the Northern Crusades, a great many of them were persecuted for their faith, and Erebus fell into a centuries-long slumber. Only when his followers began to grow in number again did he wake--and command those loyal to him to seek vengeance for their fallen brethren. Naturally, Yuna had a thing or two to say about that.

Erebus is highly asocial, but does not dislike his coworkers. It would be a stretch to say he views them as family; even so, he gets along well with them on the rare occasion Yuna can talk him out of his comfortable pocket of darkness. As the oldest of his colleagues, he is respected and even admired, but he cares little for the love of his own kind. He desires mortal love, which he receives through his worshipers. Due to their number still being relatively low, you’ll rarely catch him awake. Only Yuna seems able to rouse him, and only because Yuna is his “most cherished one”.

Mage: A troublemaker with a bark worse than his bite--but he can and will bite, so mind your fingers. Like Dr. Callaway, his true name is known only to Yuna. His coworkers know him as Mage, taken from Magenta, the name of the rather nasty chemical he produces to draw in his prey. He doesn’t harm them, but he has seduced many a married man away from his wife. Causing strife among couples is what he does best. As an incubus, he finds the taste of a married man’s energy too sweet to resist. So, of course, when he found himself seduced by Yuna, he was completely baffled--and absolutely obsessed. He still toys with married men now and then, when he gets the chance, but spends most of his time trying to talk Yuna back into bed.

Though rare, Mage can be persuaded to bust heads, and does so with the best of ‘em. He’s highly territorial, meaning that although he rather likes his colleagues, he often tangles up with them over Yuna’s affection. He is particularly hostile toward Nihil, who rather delights in teasing Mage with his closeness to their master. Outside of his romantic conflicts with his housemates, he tends to be rather lackadaisical, spending much of his free time lounging on every comfortable surface available. People find his presence enjoyable due to his easygoing disposition and passion for mischief.

Nihil: Of all the demons under Yuna’s employ, Nihil is the one who has come closest to winning his heart. Theirs is a strangely intimate relationship, one which Yuna insists is platonic--and yet, Nihil is at his side always, his obedient shadow. Of course, they weren’t always so close. Nihil is an inherently violent, cruel man whose sole purpose in life is to cause as much pain and grief as he possibly can. He is absolutely, positively insane, for no other reason than this is how he believes a demon should be. This is his aesthetic, and a demon’s aesthetic is absolute. He minds his P’s and Q’s now that he’s bound to Yuna, but never lets his “family” forget what he is, Yuna least of all.

Nihil loves no being, except, by his own admission, Yuna. He teases his master constantly, always pushing his limits, always pushing his buttons. “I am your loyal dog,” is a favorite line of his, spoken, with a pointed smile, whenever Yuna asks something of him. For some reason, it never fails to fluster Yuna, which allows Nihil to worm himself further into his darling’s heart. Unlike his colleagues, he is not afraid to get physical with Yuna, and many of their more heated arguments have ended in the bedroom. Whether Nihil actually enjoys servitude remains to be seen, but for Yuna, he would pull the moon from the sky.

Pox: The general consensus on Pox is “unfriendly, but not unbearable”. A life of self-isolation has made him difficult to approach, even more difficult to befriend, especially given that everyone he’s ever loved, he has killed. He is a demon of sickness, of plague and of rot, of suffering so old as to be carved into the bones of the earth. When he was young, he could not control the disease that spread from him. Though his mortal mother tried desperately to guide him, eventually, she was overcome, and Pox left the village he had once called home, now populated only by the dead and dying. He learned then that he could not live among his mother’s people, but he knew nothing of his father’s. Rather than seek them out and put them at risk as well, he exiled himself to the outskirts of human society, interacting with it only when necessary. With time, he came to understand his power, and was able to control it--but his peaceful life came to an end when one of the few humans he had allowed himself to love was killed in a botched robbery. Pox designated himself judge, jury, and executioner, and it wasn’t long before Yuna showed up on his doorstep.

Pox hides his self-loathing under a cold, hard outer shell. His mask is flawless, perfected through a lifetime of guilt, and he allows no one near enough to break it. His coworkers believe that they are despised by him, but in truth, he loves each of them with every inch of himself. Saying so is difficult, though, and such an admission would only encourage them to endanger themselves. He may be in complete control of his magic most days, but there are times even now when he catches himself slipping. He is desperate to protect Yuna and the strange family they have all built together, so much so that he would rather suffer in silence than risk their lives asking for help.

Seta Sericum: The peculiarity of his name has led to his coworkers calling him Silky, a moniker which he has accepted only begrudgingly. Silky is a Nephalem, the product of a love between angel and demon. Typically, his fathers’ love for one another would have ended in tragedy, but the two stayed together even after their angelic half was cast from divinity. Silky was raised in a happy home, albeit a mobile one; his fathers couldn’t risk staying in one place for too long, lest the Church track them down. Ultimately, it was the Church, their greatest fear, that was their end. They were cut down while protecting Silky, who was forced to flee in the vain hope that his absence might somehow save his fathers. The Church searched for him, but he had hidden himself well. Now an orphan, he swore vengeance on his parents’ murderers--and he got it too, once he was old enough to control his immense magical power. He despises the Church, but killed only those among its ranks who had directly harmed him. Regardless, Yuna came for him, and he submitted to servitude as recompense.

Silky’s demonic father was a real fop of a man, and his son is no different now that he’s had a chance to adjust to a normal life. He insists that everyone pull their own weight, that everything be in its place at all times, and has a fondness for indulgences such as expensive wine and imported chocolates. Without these little luxuries, he would surely have gone mad, for both his mischievous master and his trouble-making housemates frustrate him to no end. He has tried, with mixed success, to serve as a role model for them, but, oh, they are all such children. Dovey is far too naive, Dr. Callaway is far too sadistic, Corvo is far too oblivious, Mage is far too flirtatious, Nihil is far too violent, Pox is far too cold, and Vincent is far too reclusive. Erebus, at least, is well-behaved, though Silky thinks he could stand to mingle more with the group.

Vincent Blythe: On the forefront of medical progress during the Victorian Era, Dr. Vincent Blythe has become little more than a shell of his former self. When his prostitute mother was murdered by one of her stags, something snapped in him. He began targeting, torturing, and finally killing any man who frequented brothels or whom he had seen with street-walkers, believing himself to be the protector of his mother’s people. It was only then when he realized he was something more than human. His father, it turned out, had been a demon who had fallen terribly in love with his mother, but whose feelings had been spurned by her. After receiving a near-fatal wound in a skirmish with a prominent vampire hunter of the day, Vincent tucked himself away in a dark corner of London to heal. He slept for over a century, and when he woke, attempted to pick up where he’d left off. Confused, his trauma still fresh in his mind, he killed all who drew near. Phone calls were made, flights were booked, and Yuna arrived on scene to bring him back to his senses.

Vincent is terribly withdrawn. On the one hand, he is distrustful of all humans, and men in particular frighten him. On the other hand, he has had little to no experience with his own kind, and so struggles to fit in among them. He finds himself at an impasse, unable to shake the trauma of his mother’s murder, and equally unable to bond with his father’s kin. Because of this, he is prone to bouts of violent madness when he feels that he is being threatened, or when he wakes from particularly vivid nightmares, in which he witnesses his mother’s murder and can do nothing to stop it. Dr. Callaway has oft remarked that Vincent is a genius, a true medical prodigy, and that it is too bad he’s so “broken”.

#picrew #male ocs #demon ocs

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demonslayedher · 3 years

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An Attempted Timeline: Kochou Shinobu

Very open to feedback, because canon is as spread out as Muzan after his first date with Sun Breathing. Instead of tracking the year or distance from current timeline, we shall track this by Shinobu’s age (roughly, in most spots). Despite being centered around Shinobu’s life events, I’m also diving into Aoi’s life, the other Pillars’ timelines of life events too, and doing some conjecture about Shinobu’s deceased Tsuguko. Should be obvious, but spoilers ahead.

Childhood: Raised by kind parents who possessed medical knowledge. Sometime around elementary school age (at the oldest, I’d put her at 11, but probably younger), parents are killed by a demon, house is demolished, and she and Kanae are rescued by Himejima (who was maybe around 20 or younger at the time), who hands them off to the Kakushi. After the funeral for their parents, she and Kanae seek out Himejima for training, and after a little time with them he sends them to separate cultivators (according to the light novel chapter “One Winged Butterfly.”) Training under cultivators usually takes about a year. She and Kanae perhaps passed the Final Selection when Shinobu was around 12-ish, give or take. (For setting and comparison’s sake, Kagaya and Amane have long since already been married and Kiriya is already born.) Whether Kanae becomes a Pillar first or they establish the hospital at the Butterfly Mansion first is unclear, but these events happen relatively quickly. I suspect they might have had access to a lot of savings from their parents. Furthermore, this makes Kanae one of the many Pillars in the recent generation who blows that “it usually takes five years to become a Pillar” Taisho Secret away. (As an aside, maybe the reason the Corp as a whole seems to be full of weaklings is because the current Pillars have sucked up all the amazingness, but I digress.)

The Butterfly Mansion’s hospital was established long before Sanemi became a Pillar (according to the light novel chapter “Signpost of the Wind”). Sometime after Kanae becomes a Pillar, Sanemi becomes a Pillar. Giyuu was a Pillar before Sanemi was; the three of them were the same age. My guess is that Shinobu was around 13 when Kanae became a Pillar, putting Kanae and Sanemi around ages 15ish~17 when they would have had chances to interact. For comparison, Giyuu and Sabito were 13 at the time of the Final Selection, so Giyuu would had already been in the Corp longer than Kanae and Shinobu.

The following events either happened very quickly or unfolded over the course of a couple years:

Aoi (likely the the same age as Kanao) comes into their care (she preceded Kanao since she was there for Kanao’s naming, according to Taisho Secrets and second fanbook)*

Kanao (two years younger than Shinobu but much smaller, and given how petite Shinobu is, I can only assume this is because of how malnourished Kanao was) is adopted as their little sister on some May 19 (the anime seems to put the event in winter, but I assume it was already in production before the first fanbook was published with that detail)

Kanao has ample opportunity to observe Kanae’s Flower Breathing and learn by watching

Kiyo, Sumi, and Naho come into the fold (separately or all at once, though not as relatives)

Kanae is killed by Douma (Shinobu is age 14, one of the only pieces of this timeline we can be certain of). As she wished in her dying moments for Shinobu to live a normal life, she may or may not have had Shinobu as her Tsuguko, or had any Tsuguko at all.

Shinobu, age 14, becomes the head of the Butterfly Mansion household, where she already has five adoptive/pseudo younger sisters. At this point she takes on a cheerful personality, as well as probably set her heart on becoming a Pillar as soon as possible and becoming strong enough to defeat the demon that killed Kanae.

*Aoi’s circumstances are important (and curious) because the second fanbook tells us both that she practiced Water Breathing and that she passed the same Final Selection as Muichiro. Since Muichiro became a Pillar two months after taking up the sword, that means he went almost straight from sword to Final Selection to Pillar. We don’t know how much recovery time he needed after losing Yuichiro at age 11, because he wasn’t among the Pillars in the Rengoku Gaiden, so he perhaps only started practicing the sword closer to late 12 or age 13 (putting Aoi around 14, 15-ish when she passed the Final Selection, and presumably quit the sword right after that). It’s interesting to note what a different relationship Aoi has with Shinobu than Kanao does, especially since Aoi was there first but Kanao was adopted as a sister in a more all-encompassing sense. I suspect (and am putting this in italics for conjecture): Due to whatever circumstances with her Water Breath cultivator (possibly difficulty in housing a lone girl among a bunch of male students), Aoi needed to live elsewhere during her training. The Butterfly Mansion was a good spot, so Kanae and Shinobu agreed, like sponsoring a junior, and in exchange Aoi helped out around the house and hospital. Aoi kept her own last name, as she had her own family to avenge. When Kanao came in, it was purely out of wanting to help an orphan who wound up staying with them instead of being adopted out, which is why she was given a family identity and an opportunity to take the Kochou name if she wanted to (or even Aoi’s family name). They were probably treated differently because of the nature of how they came in and an assumption that Aoi would leave as soon as she entered the Corp. As Kiyo, Naho, and Sumi came in, it was a weird middle ground of whether they were just looked after until something better for them came along or if they were adopted as sisters as fully as Kanao was. Ultimately, they still retained a lot of their identities from before they were orphaned, and it was more of a pseudo-sisterhood, which Aoi had sort of fallen into as well. But, once Aoi entered the Corp and then quit the sword, she probably didn’t feel she could turn to her cultivator for any help, so at that point Shinobu took more full responsibility for her as a permanent household member.

Moving back on to Shinobu’s timeline, if I’m remembering the Giyuu Gaiden correctly (it’s been a while since I read it so I don’t recall exactly), that story took place shortly after Giyuu sent Tanjiro and Nezuko to Urokodaki, and it was also shortly after Shinobu became a Pillar. Since Tanjiro took two years to train after that, that would put her at age 16. Since Kanao joined the Corp in the same batch as Tanjiro, that means Shinobu would have had about two years between becoming a Pillar and taking Kanao as her official Tsuguko (I stress ‘official’ because it comes with distinction Tengen respects, it’s not casual “sure, I’ll look after you” thing). In that time, she had (at least) three other previous Tsuguko, all girls given butterfly hairpins, and who were all killed by demons in that two year period.

Conjecture about Shinobu and these Tsuguko:

Knowing how likely she is to be killed before she has an opportunity to avenge Kanae, Shinobu was likely in a hurry to train a Tsuguko and started trying to pass her knowledge on right away. It’s possible they were even closer in age to her than Kanao, maybe even older, and quite possibly physically stronger. It’s possible they were trained under Flower Breathing cultivators and still used that Breath, which would have given Kanao opportunities to learn by watching. That said, Shinobu doesn’t mention or think back to her Tsuguko often, and they never appear in Kanao’s flashbacks, though their deaths are some of the little pieces that strengthen her resolve to slay demons (she seems to care more about how her pseudo-sisters’ families were killed by them). My guess is that Shinobu made a clear divide between family and work, so as to protect the little girls from getting attached to more people who were likely to be taken away from them. Likely, her Tsuguko and the Butterfly Mansion girls resided in separate spaces and had very little interaction, and their Pillar/Tsuguko relationship was kept very formal so they could all focus on their demon slaying goals (albeit they were probably fond of each other anyway, signified by the butterfly hairpins).

In that two year period, the following events occur in roughly this order:

Rengoku become a Pillar (around age 18 or 19, and since he was raised practicing Flame Breathing he probably finished the Final Selection around age 12 or 13, so it clearly took him a more normal period of time to become a Pillar. But, despite being naturally gifted with strength his mother recognized, this drives home how hard he needed to work to overcome a perceived lack of “talent.”)

Iguro becomes a Pillar (around age 19 or 20, so he likely had worked at it a long time)

Aoi passes the Final Selection and quits the sword (thereby leaving Shinobu able to leave most of the hospital and household work to her since she’s no longer training), Muichirio becomes a Pillar (around age 12 or 13, genius-level speed at attaining Pillarhood)

Mitsuri becomes a Pillar (around age 18 or 19--a friend, yay! Also someone who became a Pillar way faster than normal.)

On these note, please also me to jump backwards a few years to when Kanae was still alive. Uzui had to have been a Pillar by at least age 18, but given the state of Ubuyashiki’s illness, probably a lot earlier than that, and he probably didn’t take very long to become a Pillar after entering the Corp. Since Giyuu was already a Pillar in Sanemi’s flashback, then he attained Pillarhood by, at the very oldest, age 17, so it took him four years or less. Interesting that in all these four or more years he’s been convinced the position is vacant, there’s no one else who performs Pillar-worthy achievement in the Corp’s most widely used Breath style. That really drives home the difference between the Pillars and the average cannon fodder. (Also worth noting, the Kamaboko Squad’s progression seems to fall somewhere in the middle; right to the very end the Taisho Secrets state how Tanjiro was still far from mastering Hinokami Kagura.)

At late 17 or age 18, two events occur:

Shinobu begins filling her body with poison for the sake of exacting revenge, knowing she will likely be eaten (she began about a year before the Pillar Training arc)

Kanao sneaks out to the Final Selection of her own will and with self-studied Flower Breathing, officially becomes a member of the Corp. Shinobu worries Kanao was just doing this because it’s what everyone around her does, as Kanao cannot express that she’s built her own hatred for demons.

Shinobu makes Kanao her Tsuguko almost right away, making the following changes (conjecture in italics):

Teaching her proper Breathing and sword technique (and the little girls witness her quick progress with blowing up gourds)

Instructing her very simply just to focus on cutting on demons’ heads so that she doesn’t get caught up in indecision on the battlefield

Censuring Kanao a bit for her choice to go against her sisters’ wishes and take up the sword, for now she risks death and giving the other pseudo-sisters yet another person to grieve. Given the risky nature of their work, Shinobu feels forced to treat her the same strict way she treated her Tsuguko instead of treat her as a sister. Kanao accepts this and goes from treating Shinobu as her sister to treating her as her master (calling her “Shihan” instead of “Shinobu-neesan”).

Over the course of the events of canon, Tanjiro and company spend a very large portion of their time in recovery at the Butterfly Mansion (even if a large portion of that time is spent unconscious), they might as well be pseudo-adoptive little brothers. But, I suspect Shinobu bonds more readily with girls. Also in that time, Kanao speeds up the ranks (she attains Hinoto rank, the 7th of 10 ranks, while Tanjiro & co attain the one above that, Hinoe). Furthermore, thanks to Tanjiro’s influence, Kanao also makes leap and bounds in being able to express herself, like something finally broke through. This at last leaves Shinobu somewhat relieved, after maybe five years or so since she first adopted Kanao. By that time she is getting anxious about the impending final battles (and her death, which she has deemed inevitable but purposeful), and she tells Kanao the plan. And then Oyakata-sama is like, “heeeey, so I heard you want to be friends with demons, I got you one, her name is Tamayo.” (It’s possible he already told her he was planning to get Tamayo’s help and wanted her cooperation, but he didn’t actually approach Tamayo about it until after Pillar Training started (though by Kimetsu logic, it’s highly possible that the crow talking to Tamayo took place much earlier than when it was presented). I gotta wonder how quickly they worked to combine their research and if the other girls in the mansion had any idea who Tamayo and Yushiro were.

And then, at age 18 (or likely 19 given the progression of the series and very lengthy recovery periods, heck maybe even 20), Douma. Shinobu dies, Kanao switches back to calling her Shinobu-neesan instead of Shihan, Kanae’s butterfly hairpin which Kanao wore breaks in battles, Shinobu exacts her revenge on Douma while her efforts against Muzan are also in motion and then she reunites with Kanae and her parents in spirit, and Kanao wears Shinobu’s butterfly hairpin in the final showdown and then she makes Shinobu the surprise hero in the surprise final battle to save Tanjiro. It was a really long night, and a really short, busy life.

#Kimetsu no Yaiba #Demon Slayers #Kocho Shinobu #Kochou Shinobu #KnY fandom theories and meta

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amor-immortalem · 3 years

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Everything Undesired chapter 10

Chapter 9

After a quick diaper clothes change, Arella was quick to join the brothers at the table, Cyrus tucked comfortably in the crook if her arm. It felt like a normal morning, albeit just a tad quieter. Whether that be due to the events of the night prior or just in consideration of the baby, it wasn’t quite so clear. She took her usual seat next to the place where Mammon usually sat and began to eat. The only one who looked even a little uneasy was Levi likely due to how he felt about having been the one to suggest last night’s movie.

They all spoke casually amongst themselves as they ate, multiple of them having to stop Beelzebub from consuming the food that had been set aside for Mammon as the demon in question joined them shortly after. It had taken him a while to find clean clothes, realizing he really should do his laundry soon. It had probably been a good two or three weeks at least since he’d washed anything. With everything going on, he just didn’t have the energy lately. Thank the celestial realm for his human helping him out with his school clothes.

All their heads turned to him as he joined them at the table, a round of ‘good mornings’ rang out and he returned them. Two asked how he was feeling after last night, the rest carried on with their own side conversation figuring he didn’t need to answer the question four times over.

As breakfast came to a close, Arella took her leave to feed Cyrus once more and Mammon returned to his room to gather up his dirty clothes and begin the process of doing his laundry. Thankfully, it was the weekend which would give him enough time to have all five of his school uniforms ready to go while also not hogging the washer and dryer all day.

“Man, I gotta start doin’ my laundry more often...” The Avatar of Greed sighs. “The amount of clothes in here is ridiculous.” He hefts the basket of clothes into a more comfortable position in his arms and carries them down to the laundry room.

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“Mammon, do you want to go shopping with me?” The Avatar of Lust chirps as he catches up to his brother while he’s working on switching his clothes from the washer to the dryer, “I need a new outfit for date night tomorrow and I’m sure you could use a shopping spree too considering you haven’t really gone out to spend or visited the casino lately. Even last night, when the three of us took the baby out, you didn’t even buy anything. You know what happens if you let your sin build up.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Just gimme a couple hours to get a couple more loads done. I’m kinda runnin’ outta clothes to wear.”

“Alright, three hours good?”

“Three hours is perfect.” The white haired demon says as he loaded another round of clothes into the washer. “Thanks, Asmo.”

The strawberry-blonde demon only nodded as he headed off.

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“Hey, Mams... Can we talk for a minute?” Levi asks as he approaches his brother.

“Yeah, I got a few minutes before I go out with Asmo. What’s up?”

It takes Levi a few minutes to speak. “I’m really sorry about last night. I should have screened before we watched it.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Ya said you had never seen it before and wanted to watch it with all of us, right? And you were so excited ‘bout it, so it’s fine.” he shrugs.

“But it wasn’t fair to you...” The Avatar of Envy frowns. “We shouldn’t have even watched a horror movie to begin with. I know you hate them but you still watch them with us anyway.”

“’Cuz I know you all like them so I jus’ bare with it for the time being. Y’all are my brothers, so I just want y’all to have fun even if I suffer for a bit. Y’know what you always say about me, I’m a masochist through and through.” He smiles, hoping to make his little brother feel better. “I don’t blame ya, so don’t blame yourself, ‘kay?”

The third-born only nodded, feeling minimally better after finding out the second-born didn’t blame him for what happened.

He ruffled Levi’s hair as he flashed him a smile. “Alright, I gotta go, love ya.”

“Love you too,”

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As the pair of demons walked down the street, Mammon was distracted. He was lost in thought as he thought back to the conversation he had with Arella. He thought about telling Asmo as even though Arella had told him she was comfortable with everything they had done together but he felt like she was telling him a half-truth just to spare his feelings.

“Are you alright, Mammon? You’re not as talkative as usual... Mammon?”

“Huh?” blue to gold gradient eyes look to his brother. “Yeah, I guess I’m alright. Just thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’...”

“Care to share?”

Mammon considers this for a few moments, deciding maybe he should tell his brother about what’s on his mind. “You can’t tell a soul about what I’m going to say, ‘kay?”

“No promises,” The demon says in a sing-song voice, “You have some good gossip?”

“It’s not gossip, Asmo. You absolutely have to promise you won’t tell anybody.”

Asmo’s eyes widened at his brother’s words and the serious tone in his voice. “Alright, what’s on your mind?”

“Arella told me something last night... She told me she was...” He’s not sure he can say it but thankfully Asmodeus seems to get the message.

“That’s horrible. How did it happen?”

“A quote unquote boyfriend drugged her drink when she was sixteen.” The demon has an irritated look on his face. “The bastard was twenty three, like who seeks out a teenager like that?”

“Boyfriend?” The Avatar of Lust has a disgusted look on his face. “Sounds more like a predator to me.”

“Right?! It makes my skin crawl just thinkin’ about it.” He exhales, “She’s such a good person and some monster takes advantage of her and does that?! If I could get a name and a face, I’d absolutely destroy him. The worst part? She blames herself for what happened, for making a mistake.”

“I’m not surprised,” Asmo frowned. “Considering how the human world treats women- she may very well have been told it was all her fault- especially as a minor? I don’t know what her family was like but to end up with that mindset, it’s very possible she didn’t have anybody to for her what we’re doing for you.”

Mammon only frowned at that. “Yeah and now I feel bad for pushing so hard. She said she wanted all that but I feel like she was only sayin’ that just to make me feel better. Is that wrong of me?”

“Mmm, I don’t think so... You love her so it’s only natural that you would worry about having forced her into a situation she didn’t want. But I also don’t think she would lie to you just to make you feel better. Can you remember a time where she’s ever been disingenuous with you?”

“No...”

“Then I think you should take her words at face value. In all actuality, I think she only told you because she wanted you to know you weren’t alone and she knows what you’re going through.” Asmo smiles as he pats Mammon’s shoulder. “And if you’re still worried about it, think of it this way: As long as you had a resounding ‘yes’ at all times from her, then you shouldn’t worry about whether or not you forced her to do it. Or you could do the adult thing and actually talk about your feelings as scary as that may be.”

Mammon only rolled his eyes at Asmo’s comments.

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The pair got home later than intended. As they split up, the Avatar of Greed made his way up to his room. Everything seemed to be fine, there was no baby crying and the house seemed at peace until he got to his room. He tossed his bag into the closet and slid down the railing on his staircase. That’s when he heard it, a small sniffling sound.

“Treasure?” He called softly as he approached the bed, placing a hand on the ball of blankets that his human had buried herself under. “Hey, look at me.”

A soft ‘no’ was heard from under the blanket followed by a ‘I’m alright, don’t worry’ which had the opposite effect on him. So, he just made himself comfortable beside his mate, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close so her back was pressed to his chest. When she was ready to talk, he would listen and if the baby monitor went off, he would do all the work tonight. It was the least he could do since she practically took care of their son on her own around the clock when he couldn’t even look at the child for the first few weeks.

He rubbed his thumb over her stomach in a motion that was meant to be comforting. While not exactly what he wanted to do, their position didn’t grant him much elsewhere to rub if he wanted to keep his arm wrapped around her, he hoped it would have the same effect. They just lay together in silence for a time as her sniffles slowly came to a stop. She was so quiet, Mammon thought she might’ve fallen asleep until she moved her head from under the covers and slowly turned to him, allowing him to move his hand to her side.

“Wanna talk about it?” The demon asked as she shook her head in response. She cried regularly for others but she wasn’t much for crying when it came to herself and when she did, it was often over nightmares she wouldn’t tell him about. “When you’re ready, I’ll listen. I don’t like to see you so upset and not be able to do anything to help you, Baby.” It was an offer he hoped she would finally take him up on. She only let out a sigh as she moved closer to him and he reached up to wipe a stray tear from her cheek.

“I’m sorry I was so selfish last night...” She catches his hand in hers and just holds it to her cheek. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“No...?” The Avatar of Greed wracks his memory from last night, trying to think of anytime she could have been selfish. “When were you selfish?”

“When I told you I had been assaulted...” Her response only leaves Mammon more confused. He hardly considered that to be selfish at all. She was only trying to reassure him everything he was going through was normal.

“How was that selfish?”

“I made the situation all about me when it should have been about you. I’m sorry.”

“No you didn’t? ‘Rella, Baby, you get to talk about your feelings and things that have happened to you too, y’know. Everything’s not always about me. Actually, it was kinda validating to know you understand what I’m going through.”

“No, I don’t. I just want to help but I always bring things back to me some way or another. My problems aren’t important. They’re not a big deal. I’m just attention-seeking and being selfish a-and-- mmph!”

He couldn’t take listening to his human, his treasure, bring herself down like that anymore, choosing to silence her with a kiss instead. When he pulled back, he pressed their foreheads together as he looked into her eyes, glossy from her earlier tears.

“Do you know what an amazin’ person ya are?” he asks as he rolls them so he’s leaning over her, “You get to talk about these things. Your problems matter. You're not bein’ selfish or attention-seeking when you talk about them. Hell, for somebody whose primary sin is greed, you’re probably the most selfless person that I know. You are patient ‘n kind ‘n giving. You do way more than anybody asks of ya. You give so much love and don’t ask for anything in return for it. I don’t know who the fuck put those thoughts in your head but ain’t none of ‘em true, got it?”

“It.... It was my mother....”

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Find more on my Masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date?#obey me mammon #mammon angst #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan #obey me oc #arella #cyrus

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alittlewhump · 3 years

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Unbidden - Act 4, chapter 4

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Content warnings: fantasy violence

It was the sound that gave the first clue to Izual's location. The howling, to be precise. It cut like a finely honed blade through the faraway sounds of demons going about their business. Those noises were babbling, sometimes raucous, natural expressions of creatures in their home element. This was something different. It was hard, and cold, and achingly lonely somehow. Morgan shivered as he followed Blaise in the direction of its source.

She paused at the corner of a ruin, the two rough walls all that remained of an ancient building. "You said he'd be alone, right? That has to be who we're after." Morgan nodded, already reaching out to feed some magic into the ground beneath the lone figure at the centre of what might have been a plaza at one time.

The figure howled again, and its clawed hands wrenched and tore violently at... something on its back. Something that had once been wings, Morgan realized as it spread what remained of them, reduced to little more than bloodied bone and tendon. Shreds of leathery membrane quivered with the force of its baying. These ruined appendages were nothing like the tendrils of light that made up an angel's wings. Perhaps that was why it wanted to be rid of them so badly, Morgan thought.

There was no sense in further prolonging its suffering. With a push of will, the earth reached up to hold the creature in place. It did not struggle. Instead it froze for a second, then fell silent and tipped its head back to bare its throat in an implicit surrender.

Blaise dispatched it efficiently. But as the body fell, something remained standing. It peeled back out of the lifeless form, amorphous and nearly transparent. After a moment it resolved into the shape of an angel. It seemed to be staring down at the fallen husk. Morgan could still see right through it. The angel began to speak in a voice that sounded like an echo.

"Tyrael was a fool to have trusted me. I told Diablo and his brothers about the soulstones. About how they could be corrupted. I helped them mastermind their own exile to your world. The plan we set in motion so long ago cannot be stopped. Hell itself will spill into your world like a tidal wave of blood and nightmares."

"What exactly is this plan?" Blaise lowered her bow but kept it drawn.

"To corrupt the stones, allowing their influence to spread across your world unnoticed by the angelic host. Their claws are already hooked into the fabric of your world, and they are eager to shred the veil separating it from Hell."

"And what's stopping them? If they're so eager, why haven't they done it yet?"

"Their long imprisonment has diminished their power. They must restore themselves here, in their home, before unleashing Hell on earth. Even now Diablo and Baal seek the rejuvenation of the Chaos sanctuary. They know they are pursued."

"Sounds like it's a good time to strike. We can take them down before they get back to full strength." There was a certain glint in Blaise's eyes. She was undoubtedly already imagining their victory over the remaining demon lords.

"Impossible. Mere mortals cannot hope to stand against the power of the Prime Evils."

"Well, we already killed Mephisto, so you're wrong there."

"Impossible," Izual repeated. Blaise was squaring up for an argument, which wasn't likely to get them any additional information. This would be an opportune moment to interject, Morgan decided.

"You are free now, Izual. The form that bound you has been destroyed. You can return to the High Heavens. To your home."

Izual's spectral hood turned toward Morgan. "My prison is felled, but I cannot return to the Host. Not after what I have done. I am beyond redemption."

"There's no harm in trying," Blaise chimed in. "What's the worst that could happen? Seems to me they can't do much worse than what you've already been through."

"Heaven knows the depths of my betrayal. I cannot return after the treason I have committed."

"It was Tyrael who bade us free you," Morgan said. "Surely if the avatar of Justice feels your penance has been sufficient, the-"

"Tyrael is a fool," Izual repeated. "He has no power over me, not any more." He looked back down at the body that had once imprisoned him. "You have granted me a brief reprieve from the torment I have earned. I thank you for this kindness. But in time, this vessel will be born anew from the Black Abyss and I will be drawn back into it. There can be no other fate for me."

"Perhaps not." Morgan approached the body, drawing a vial of oil out of his pack.

"What are you doing, mortal?" Izual reached out as if to stop him, but the only resistance his arm provided was an uncomfortable chill. Goosebumps prickled across his skin where the angel's form passed through it.

"It is not my place to judge whether or not you deserve to return," Morgan explained as he anointed the forehead and claws of the demonic form. "But I did give my word that I would try my utmost to free you." It was a bit of guesswork, but it tracked with what he knew of angels and demons. Consecrating the demonic body should, in theory, cause it to be destroyed in a way that would prevent it from reforming. Demons' spirits could return to the Black Abyss to await a new body, just as angels were given form through the Crystal Arch. But Izual was not truly a demon, despite the corruption he had endured. There was no reason a completely new body should be created for him without additional intervention. That was beyond the scope of Morgan's control, unfortunately, but this seemed like the most likely way to ensure the angel's freedom.

"Do not interfere," Izual growled. Morgan flinched as the angel lunged at him. It was colder this time, but there was still no physical resistance as the angel's form passed through him.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing? He's trying to help you," Blaise called. An arrow flew harmlessly through the angel's ghostly body. It got his attention briefly, long enough for Morgan to draw a sigil in oil on the chest of the remains. He used the oldest symbol he knew. It began to glow faintly as he hovered his hand over it, starting the consecration by empowering the anointment.

"No," Izual hissed. The icy tendrils of his wings wrapped around Morgan's throat as he began reciting the prayer that accompanied the sigil. Although the touch wasn't tangible, the chill was. It drained his breath and made the muscles in his throat tighten with the shock of the sudden cold. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the intent he was feeding into the prayer and the oil. As long as he could manage at least a whisper, it should suffice. It was only a few phrases he had to get through.

Freezing chill assaulted Morgan, targeting his face, his throat. The cold ached in his teeth and stole the sensation away from his lips. He treated each word carefully, slowly. If he wanted to have any chance at success, he couldn't let Izual interrupt him. It was unlikely he'd be able to complete the prayer a second time if he had to start over.

At one point it felt like glacial fingers were reaching through his chest to squeeze around his heart. That made him gasp, opening his eyes to see Blaise trying ineffectually to grapple Izual away from him. Morgan staggered back a step but the angel followed effortlessly. The cold grew impossibly deeper as he reached his other hand in to join the first, bringing Morgan to his knees. It was so cold it burned, too cold to even shiver.

"Morgan, stop! I can't touch him, he's going to - you have to get out of there!" Blaise's words turned to steam as they left her mouth, little clouds hanging in the shimmering cold that surrounded Izual. Morgan shook his head minutely. No matching steam accompanied the words he continued to force past his teeth. The air from his lungs wasn't warm enough for that. But he was so close. I believe you capable, Tyrael's voice echoed in his mind. If Tyrael believed that, surely it was true. It had to be. He could finish this.

Morgan rasped out the final syllables and slumped forward, no longer trying to resist the darkness pulsing around the edges of his vision. His immediate task was complete and he could rest a little in this enveloping cold. Izual jerked back as the anointed body was consumed by light. It glowed at first like a firefly, then a torch, then a bonfire, then a sun, replacing the creeping darkness with brilliant white. Izual howled a wordless protest, growing in volume as the light shone brighter and brighter. Even when Morgan angled his face away from it, echoes danced across his eyelids. Then, suddenly, it stopped. No light, no sound. Izual was gone.

A ragged gasp broke the silence as Morgan finally drew a fresh breath unhindered by Izual's chill. It stuck in his throat, warm air warring with cold. The rough stone of the plaza scraped against his forehead as he fell into a helpless fit of coughing, his body finally reacting to the temperature shock with violent, rattling tremors. Blaise was saying something but the coughing drowned her out. A heavy hand thumped on his back, which was uncomfortable and did nothing to stop either the hacking coughs or the tremors. He waved her away weakly as he tried to steady his breathing, encouraging the stone to prop him up into a more upright position. This was no time to rest after all. Tyrael's task was complete but his own work was still in progress.

"Akarat's bane, Morgan, that was close. I thought I was going to have to drag you out of there." Blaise paused. "Would that even work?"

"I don't know," Morgan croaked, hugging his arms around himself. It was ineffective; his armour prevented any heat transfer. "People are... tethered to their bodies when they die, if they linger. But I don't know about angels. That wasn't even his true body." The uncontrollable shivering was beginning to slow slightly, the warmth of the environment chasing away the chill.

"Well, I'm glad I didn't have to try it. Anyway, let's get back to the fortress. Everyone's going to want to hear about that thing with the soulstones, and I don't really want to stick around to see what that light display might have attracted." Blaise raised one arm to loop briefly around Morgan's shoulders. The gesture warmed him better than the ambient heat of Hell, but he refrained from chasing it as she released him to open a portal. There was more work to be done, and he was fit enough to do it. Comfort was an unnecessary luxury.

Tyrael and Cain were conversing quietly when they returned to the fortress. Blaise set off to talk to Halbu while Morgan waited his turn to speak with Tyrael. He didn't have to wait long.

"You found Izual," the angel observed. "I can feel the echo of his resonance within you. Tell me of what happened."

"He was not eager to be freed," Morgan said. "Once the form imprisoning him was defeated, he spoke of his cooperation with the Prime Evils. Their exile to our world was planned. They have corrupted the soulstones somehow, to spread their influence across the world unnoticed by the forces of the Light. That was all he said on the matter. I consecrated the body," he added.

"In doing so, you have assured his freedom. You have my thanks for this." Morgan wrestled briefly with the awe and elation that lit up like a pyre in his chest. To receive the gratitude of an archangel was nearly unthinkable. "But if what you tell me is true," Tyrael continued, "we have been played for fools all along. With the powers of the soulstones under their control, the Prime Evils will be able to turn the mortal world into an outpost of Hell, and all mankind may be doomed." That certainly helped to dampen his emotions back down to where they ought to be.

"I feared as much," Cain said grimly. "What you described of the Zakarum high council pointed to that conclusion. If the soulstones have all been corrupted, there are dire implications."

"But we defeated Mephisto already," Blaise interjected, striding over to join the conversation. "We have his stone. And we're going to get the other ones too. Can't we just smash them?"

"When Mephisto's soulstone was split into pieces, those shards each served as a focus for his power," Tyrael said. "They are impossible to destroy by conventional methods."

"Well, what unconventional methods are there? There has to be something."

"There is the Hellforge," Halbu called from where he was working. "There is a hammer that can annihilate anything placed on that accursed pedestal. I've wanted to get my hands on that hammer for ages. It ought to be somewhere near the forge, but without any scouts I don't know for sure."

"Yes," Tyrael said, "that could work. The Hellforge could destroy the stones completely. We will lose any advantage the soulstones ever gave us, but shattering the stones is more important."

"Their advantage was lost the moment they were corrupted," Cain added.

"Is this hammer enchanted?" Morgan asked.

"Naturally," Halbu replied.

"Excellent," Cain exclaimed. "That ought to make it much easier for you to find, my friend!"

"Yes. If you suspect it's near a landmark, I ought to be able to find it easily enough." It would be good to put his skills to use again so soon, to make more progress toward their ultimate goal.

"I think I might have spotted the forge from up on one of those spires," Blaise said. "And now we know the big boys are holed up in the Chaos sanctuary, so we can head there right after."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Halbu said. "No offense. But I've been after that hammer for years."

"I guess this is your lucky year, then," Blaise returned cheerfully. "And it's my lucky day if there's any more of that pork thing you made earlier. We have to eat before we head back out."

Morgan cast a glance at the space the portal had occupied, but it was empty. She must have closed it already. And since she was the one with a clear idea of where they were going, he would have to wait.

"You coming?"

"No, thank you. I require a brief meditation." The last traces of chill had fled in the face of Tyrael's presence, but that in itself was something to be treated with caution. Although their goals aligned at the moment, that was no reason to allow his neutrality to be compromised. His duty was to his Order, and not anything else.

#my writing #story: unbidden #fantasy violence tw

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quazartranslates · 3 years

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Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH127

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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Chapter 127: The Dream of the Holy Nun (XVII)

{cw: cannibalism}

"I see," Su He whispered, walking with the two others in the direction of the night watchmen.

The strength of the field brought the night watchmen into the illusory range, revealing Su He’s figure to the night watchmen. The night watchmen finally realized Qi Leren and others’ presence and looked at them with surprise and vigilance: "Who are you?"

"We’re with the one you just called a foreigner, investigating the cause of the disaster and trying to end this nightmare," Su He said.

The watchman looked at them carefully, and they were looked at by this deformed strange face. Qi Leren felt very uncomfortable, not because their eyes were full of malice, but because these ferocious and horrible faces were uncomfortable to look at.

"I know that you passed from the outside world through the fog to come here, maybe you’re the key to end all this. If you want to know, okay... This disaster started eight years ago..."

The hoarse voice of the night watchman sounded in the dark, telling the story of the disaster of the new moon.

More than 20 years ago, the Holy City was invaded by demons. It wasn’t known what happened after that, since the whole city was surrounded by fog, but the demons had disappeared and the Holy City was restored to calm. The residents who survived the event found that they could never walk out of the fog, and no matter how far they walked in the fog, they would eventually return to the Holy City.

Since then, no woman had become pregnant and no babies had been born. The city had grown old alone in the fog…

It was not until a night of the new moon eight years ago that the nightmare began.

"At least one in ten people disappeared that night. No one knew what had happened, and the whole city fell into a panic. On the next night of the new moon after that, another group of people disappeared... Slowly, we found the rule. Whenever the night of the new moon comes, we must never be awake before the sun rises, otherwise we’ll disappear. After that, people gradually got used to this kind of life. Whenever the night of the new moon came, they would drink sleeping draughts to ensure that they slept until dawn, and the amount of people disappearing began to decrease. But there were always accidents... For example, the one who almost became food for the demons just now. "

The young man who was still sitting on the ground shivered, hugging his head and trembling as he sobbed. Knowing the truth of the disaster of the new moon had put him on the verge of collapse. As long as he thought that he might have eaten the living even once, he fell into fear of not going to heaven.

"I've been sleepwalking since I was a child. I sleepwalked once on a night of the new moon, but it was strange that during this sleepwalking, I was awake, and I 'saw' my wife take off her pajamas, and her body slowly turned into that of a demon. At that time I was scared crazy, but when I looked at myself I saw that I had also become a monster, and I followed her out of the house..."

"That night, I saw a Holy City that was like hell. My wife and the demons searched for and chased prey together. They found a living person who hadn’t fallen asleep, attacked him crazily, and ate him. I’ve never seen such a cruel and barbaric scene in my life. A group of people eating a person like mad dogs. They plucked bloody meat from the screaming living person and chewed it greedily, as if it were food given by God. I tried to stop this atrocity and pushed my wife away. She bumped into the wall and woke up covered in blood."

A tearful smile appeared on the strange face of the night watchman as he repeated: "She woke up."

Everyone was silent, and even the sobbing young man held his breath and forgot to cry. In the deep darkness, the horrible night watchman whined: "She turned back into a human being, watching the demons screaming in the dark. I approached her, trying to protect her, but to her eyes I was the demon. She wouldn't listen to me at all, just screamed and ran away. That group of terrible, inhuman beasts jumped up... I roared, struggling to fight with them, and I wanted to wake up at this moment, even if I died with my wife... I hit the wall with my head, again and again until my skull cracked, but I couldn't wake up. I was trapped in a nightmare. This dream is too long and too desperate...

"The demons had a good meal. I don't want to admit that I was as hungry as them. I used my last human dignity and reason to compete with them for my wife's flesh and blood. Before the sun rose, they returned to their homes in an orderly manner, and some demons even spontaneously cleaned up the traces of their hunting, washed away their blood, and woke up to meet dawn in bed as if nothing had happened. Bleeding out, I lay on the ground waiting to die. As dawn rose in the east, my body changed back to human and all the wounds healed. What happened on this bloody night could only be borne by me alone. After dawn, the neighbours who had eaten my wife recovered their human appearances and asked with concern how my wife and I had slept last night. They didn't know that they’d just killed her a few hours ago. I couldn't even say it! I couldn only stay in hell in silence, alone, in hell!

"Susan, my wife, had become a person who disappeared in the disaster of the new moon, forever." The night watchman who witnessed all this had chosen to keep it a secret.

"Later, I saved a few living people, one of whom was a pharmacist. He prepared a draught that can make people lose a short period of their memory and mixed it with the sleeping draughts. We let the people we rescue choose whether to join us or drink the draught and forget all this. Most of them chose to drink the draught and forget this horrible experience. Those who choose to stay will become one of us and keep this secret together. Together, we study the method of lucid sleepwalking, the cause of the disaster of the new moon, and how to appease this group of demons who keep hunting the living. The more you insist, the more desperate you are...

"This city, once full of devout believers, may have no souls left to go to heaven."

There was a spasm in his stomach, and Qi Leren pressed his hand on his abdomen. The confused and desperate narration of the night watchman drew him into that same horrible feeling. Sleeping people became demons, killing the waking people who knew the truth. In order to protect more people, they could only cover up these crimes and keep their mouths shut. On this evil night, this tragedy had been repeated for eight years, which is so long that it was desperate.

They desperately kept the secret that would have made everyone fall into hell, but it was too late. In the first few disasters of the new moon, too many people had committed unforgivable crimes. What was even more frightening was that no one knew whether they were innocent or not, and those who knew the truth always thought about their missing relatives and friends, and questioned whether they once mourned those who were in their stomachs.

"Take it and let him drink it." The night watchman threw a bottle of medicine at him and Ning Zhou caught it and handed it to the man kneeling on the ground. Trembling, the man took the draught, so panicked that he couldn't open the bottle after several times. He bit the cork with his teeth and drank it without question.

The man who’d drank the draught sat on the ground absently, looked at the silver cross embroidery on Ning Zhou's gloves, and murmured, "Can God forgive me? Can I still go to heaven?"

The medication had begun to work, tiredness welling, yet he looked up at Ning Zhou with desperate eyes full of tears.

Ning Zhou's fingers curled and the feeling of grief swept over him. He recalled Maria on her deathbed, leaning against her pillow, holding his hand, tears flowing in her blue eyes.

"I have to go back..." she had said angrily. "Once I die, the power there will be completely out of control. If there are demons lurking there, everything will be done for.

"But I can't go back. In the past thirteen years, I’ve tried every means to open up that dead field. But it’s dead. It’s no longer a door that can be opened and closed at will, but a locked door that cannot be opened without a key... Behind that door, what evil forces have begun to move?"

Maria, whose face was gaunt with sickness, shed tears silently: "My self-righteous salvation may be the greatest evil. You must... You must save them... Promise me..."

Half kneeling in front of the bed Ning Zhou had taken her hand and nodded wordlessly.

Eight years later he’d really come here, but the Holy City that Maria had guarded with her life was already a hell on earth.

"In the name of God, I forgive your crimes and give you peace of mind." Ning Zhou's hand was on the man's forehead and the white gloves gave off a faint light.

The man smiled happily and closed his eyes slowly.

With his deep sleep, his body began to change: his face twisted, his body swelled, and the clothes he wore were torn. He let out a low roar and opened his inhuman eyes.

The sound of the night watchman's flute soothed his appetite. He jumped off the roof, fell heavily on the ground, and then walked into the distance, returning again to the demon's side.

The leading night watchman sighed heavily and whispered, "Sometimes even we doubt whether we’re saving mankind or demons. Or maybe we’re just saving ourselves."

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Editor’s Notes: Allow me to remind you of the gravestone Qi Leren saw in the cemetary in chapter 121.

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#Welcome to the Nightmare Game #欢迎来到噩梦游戏 #danmei

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secretsofthedarkestkind-arch · 3 years

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@storieswrittcn from here

My Dearest Heart, Chicago, truly there of all places Katerina? I have never, however, I do hear the stories and rumors of what this war is causing. Whether it be in passing of Father’s acquaintances or discussion among those in town. Chicago is near the front lines. You do love chasing the danger don’t you? Though with everything happening in the city, it would be a place easy enough to hide among others without someone questioning your presence.

Feeding from the lower end of the food chain is not one I thought I would ever see you do. Even if it does keep you safe and the suspicion of who you are low, I am not completely agreeable to that. But as you have said, you must do what you have to. Do the drugs affect you after you have drank from them? I have only ever seen a few under the influence, only a small number made me laugh at the way their minds were altered. Soon enough you will have the blood of something cleaner, purer, and one that, if by your own reactions tell me, has become your favorite.

A witch? To have you seeking her out she must be powerful. I hope she can show you what you seek to learn. It warms my soul knowing part of the reason you wish to continue your knowledge in the art of magic is to protect me. I cannot wait to see what you are able to do or the beauty of which you speak. Concepts of light and dark are ones I do not fully believe in. I understand them and begrudgingly admit are there but who has the right to deem what is light or dark? Both can cause harm can they not? Both can provide protection when needed just as well correct? So when then do we always have to label items or actions in categories of ‘good’ or ‘evil’. Actions as people move between the two. Though that is simply my opinion and I may admittedly be naive.

Though I do not possess the abilities you do, I feel the same way about you. Harper, though a fallen soldier so possibly not the best teacher, has offered to give me a few lessons in self defense when we can slip away. I’ve learned to fire a rifle and small pistol as well. My aim continues to improve and I dare say it’s better than Damon’s. One day I will be able to protect you as you protect me. You may be Katherine Pierce, a survivor and fighter, but everyone needs someone at times to be there in a time of need. I will be that person.

Please, my heart, do not taunt your enemies. I know they are a necessary downfall of the life you are forced to live and they are to be expected. But that does not mean you need to make a situation worse. Tie up the ends you must, do what you need to do, but come back to me unharmed.

Parties? Hm, I do not envy you in the least. You are correct, dresses and corsets make my skin itch---they made me feel suffocated and trapped. Being forced into them, keeping up appearances and appearing as society states I must...it kills a part inside of me each time, Katerina. I want to scream, break things, tear the dresses to shreds just to be free. But I cannot. I must continue to lie, to kill my soul, and hide a part of myself away just to avoid the wrath and closed mindedness of my family as well as society. My only freedom you, my aunt, and now those you have deemed worthy of our family.

But for you? I would try. There might be a day when I can go as myself, dressed in a suit only made of the best linens that are appropriate to be seen beside your beauty. That is a dream I will hold on to. That we will find a time, within our eternity, where I can be myself with you on my arm attending events that please you.

My type of food or yours, my heart? I am smirking as I write that question. For with you, it might be both or just yours.

I will not try to pull you here sooner than you see fit. Even if I wish I could. Part of me believes if I set my mind to doing just that I could succeed. I know you have your reasons, that there are things that need to be done before you are here with me. As I have told you before, I will always wait for you and be patient with what you must do. As before, do what you must for I will be here when the time is right. I trust you, Katerina. Which means if you say this wait and your planned time here in Mystic Falls is needed or the only way...then it is.

Pearl and Annabelle have become people I can see one day as the only family, outside of you, that I will ever need or wish for. I had thoughts that you had sent them here partly for my benefit as I mentioned in my last letter, but knowing those thoughts were correct? I continue to fall more and more in love with you. Constantly, you show me in actions how much you do love me and care for me, that I am wanted. To know my love, loyalty, and feelings are returned just as deeply means more than you will ever know. All I can hope is that I can do the same for you.

You tell me not to worry about vervain but as you say it can harm you if you feed on someone who has consumed it. My Heart, if a vampire ingests vervain, the vampire's throat and digestive tract will be burned. You would become feverish and extremely weak. I have seen what it does to the flesh of your kind if even the plant comes into contact with your skin. You cannot tell me to not worry when it exists in this world. The amount in this town turns my stomach. I have asked Pearl to help me do my best to avoid it for your sake. Though it seems the council here has plans for it, plans my father is a part of as a way to try and get back into the community's good graces. He has no idea that I am aware of that or my knowledge of those that walk among us. Something I plan to always keep from him, it may come in our favor one day.

I am not certain if it only grows here. It is a plant that grows at the base of white oak trees, we have a higher concentration of those trees but surely it grows elsewhere? If I can I will see what I can learn. I feel that research may have to wait until we are free of this town. But I will still try until then.

You have never broken a promise to me yet nor given me reason to doubt you, so I will believe in the promise that you will be safe.

Lavender will now be a smell that I always associate with you, once more you take control of something small in my life. You do consume me and are always in my mind--always a part of everything I do. My anxieties, worries, and darker thoughts are all rooted in this town. They have created them, fed them, and caused their growth as the years have gone by. This town has taken much of me, I just do not wish for it to either take you or harm you. The idea of Vervain is not my only concern but you know that. My worries are always far away when I am with you, however. As silly as it might sound, you chase the demons away. You make me stronger and braver. Or at the very least you show me who I could be, who I could grow to be with your helping hand and love.

The Falls much like my favorite oak tree--not white oak I have checked-- is a place no one ever searches for me. They are peaceful and beautiful. A part of nature that has been untouched and left alone. The sound of the water going over the cliff soothes me. The fall is from what I can guess is at least fifteen foot drop, it’s highest point as tall as some of the trees below it. The pool of water below it is just as deep, if not more. Though I have not swum to the bottom since meeting you or jumped from it’s peak, though Annabelle did try to convince me. I was tempted to jump once more but I know you would not be pleased if something happened when you were not with me or if something more ill fated than being harmed happened. It leads into a river, wide and long. After it rains, the water is too dangerous to get in or be near as it then flows so much quicker. But I do love to watch it. Harper will bring you a few of my sketches of the area so you may see it. I still plan to take you there, my dearest heart. It will be one of our adventures.

I promise you, there is nothing to be jealous of. No one should ever cause jealousy within you. My heart belongs to you and no how close I become with another--such as Annabelle--that will never change. Some say jealousy is a darker emotion, one that can lead a person to become controlling. I do not believe that. Jealousy, to a point, is healthy. It shows the depth of your love. Others would argue it shows insecurity. Maybe we are both correct. But it just means one does not wish to lose another. I know I will become jealous of others near you, I will not deny it as something that will happen. But I hope you will see it as I do when it happens. I never wish for you to change--dare I say the jealousy you admit to makes me feel ways I didn’t know I could. I enjoy it.

Stefan has never seen me truly be friends with another before, female especially. You know the tale of my first kiss, how Father reacted when Damon told him of catching myself with Abigail Sommers. She had been my only friend, only allowed by both our parents because of our families connections. The view of being me being demonic or a punishment to my parents for the way I was born made it hard to find friends. Now with the town's knowledge of my alignment, makes it even harder. So Stefan simply believes every woman I talk to or try to befriend is someone I seek to have more with.

His mind believes the way of the church, Katerina. His words and actions over the years showing that. So there is no possible way his mind will ever be able to wrap around the fact two women could be together. It makes me laugh to picture his face when he learns of our love---especially once he has seen your beauty and met you. How could someone as posed, beautiful, and a true lady in the world's eye ever be so sinful and dark as to love me? A question that will no doubt be his as it is no longer one of mine. I will behave how you ask of me in front of the town and do as you ask regarding my brothers, but I will not go as far as to not spend time with you or appear as your friend. Part of your reason for being here is for me, I intend to take advantage of that. Not to mention, could you truly be so close to me and deny yourself my heart? I could not and I will not.

My father’s life is to do with as you please. I know many would recoil from you for those words or thoughts of murder, but I will not. The act of you killing him, torturing him, may actually give me pleasure and peace as well. I am not strong enough, physically, to do it myself. He does not deserve to be a part of this world but yet he acts as if this life is God given right and his actions have no consequences. He is vile and the scum of this earth truly.

Your possessiveness is showing my love. It thrills me. Others might disrespect that claim, but not Pearl nor I. There is nothing in this world that could ever make me drink the blood of a vampire that is not you. I know the offer would only come either at the dire need for me to heal, a situation that is not what we have planned for my time to turn, or if you knew you would be able to insure I was not going to die shortly after. I know to deny any that tries to give me some, you’ve made sure of that. Your friendship and trust in Pearl is well founded and centuries old, she knows better my love.

Speaking of Pearl, she has mentioned the thought of possibly having me wear something with Vervain within it to keep the vampires in this town--one’s that she is unsure of their loyalty to you as the number seems to grow each time we speak-- away from me. I do not know if I agree with this. Could it harm you and is it something that you would want? Only a gift from you will ever find a way to my skin that is potentially dangerous to you.

Enjoy the sketches and I will wait for your reply as always.

Eternally yours, Lee

#the love letters #love letters series: 1864 #v: right kind of wrong

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regali-s · 3 years

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I’LL FOLLOW YOU ➽ ZHONG LI

genre: entirely self indulgent, that’s the genre. this is just me being selfish and writing something for the first in a long time

wc: 1.5k

warnings: self indulgent. not at all a reader insert (or at least not yet i’m deciding on it still)

a/n: literally this is just for my own satisfaction. that’s it. i just want to write something for him. it’s also to get myself back into writing a little bit? i’m not gonna out this up in the tags i’ll just, let it sit here on my blog because i don’t have a large following and i feel comfortable having it here as something i wrote! as such, i won’t be doing a taglist for this um.. unless requested otherwise and if anyone’s actually interested in keeping up with it? then let me know in that case but this is really just a selfish project of mine until i decide whether or not i’ll turn it into an official work

there's the whisper of legends that are shrouded in fog, the mutterings of names that even the divine would learn to fear.

the requiem told by monsoon rains is a familiar one in celestia, a despairing melody whose tongue dances with the lick of thunder and lightning that should illuminate the heavens and all her dominions beneath. of the ruthlessness and utter destruction that would dare lift its hand against a god and arise victorious, there are to be offerings of terror and fear so potent, so violent, that it would devour what false illusion of solace is left to be found. it is the hymn of crashing waves that cry with a deafening silence, soundless and domineering as it consumes and takes and devours, until all that should remain of gods and realms will lay forgotten beneath the ocean floor.

morax is no stranger to the story of astaroth, a demon so greatly revered in terror that even celestia would pause at the mention of her name. a fallen god who was stricken down from her throne for a sin left untold, she'd be forever lost to redemption, her place with the divine left to rot with the passage of time. and yet, celestia would warn kingdoms and empires of her name — beseeched its gods to never earn her displeasure. what power is there so great, that even the heavens should hesitate against it? morax had never understood this in his youth, yet all the same, he drew no questions and dared not to ever utter a word of that monsoon demon. even in the throes of brash recklessness, he knew better than to keep dark legends in his heart, and he'd for long been content with letting that story be woven by mothers putting their children to bed.

so then why now, as golden eyes meet those of the deepest red, does he recall that particular tale?

he finds her at luhua pool beneath a lonely moon, her company welcomed by its silver glow as it encompasses her image and brings her to the light of a distant dream, paints its visage along her brown skin with a gentleness a lover would bear. he doesn't feel a wind, and yet her long, black braids and the few strands that are left to curl freely around her head, they sway ever so slightly as she faces him, appearing to him like an illusion — a mirage conjured by burning desserts and merciless suns. here beneath the moonlight, this woman of blood reds and blackened night skies pulls him into a trance and shows to him visions forbidden when she smiles, and with a voice like the softest silk and a windborne melody, she beckons him closer.

"keep me company for a while, won't you?"

it's an innocent request, her voice hiding nothing beneath it save for the promise of another body to stay by his side for the night, and morax sees no reason to refuse. thus, he finds himself next to this woman beneath a watchful moon, her companion for however long she would decide him to be.

for a while, there are no words spoken between them, a silence lulling across the surface of the water and falling over their bodies like a blanket, their world caught within these seconds that flow like molasses. she seems content to let that quietness persist, allows their words to rest on abandon and instead gazes at the stars above. it's almost as if she's looking for something, her eyes flickering with the reflection of millions of silver lights, the taste of wistfulness that clouds pools of red would pull him in until he finds himself drowning. and in those eyes and among her stars, morax sees a certain something that he can't put a name to. it grabs a hold of his mind and leaves him wondering, until his heart begins to ache with the loss of it and his soul dances on yearning and a curious desire.

then, she speaks, and on that whisper lost to the wind, morax finds his breath disappears for a moment.

"what value is there to life?"

the question is vague yet weighted, the words behind it would overflow with what felt like a lifetime of searching. and perhaps, morax considers as he lets his eyes linger on this woman, searching has been all she had ever known. when she lets her eyes fall from the night sky and turns to him, he sees an eternity spent on want and desire, a longing for purpose — for value, yet even as she turns to him for an answer, her whispered words and the faint smile that plays across her lips seem almost hopeless. what kind of life must she have lead to have left her feeling so lost and abandoned, he ponders, and when he turns his eyes to the skies above, he wonders if he'll find an answer among those shining secrets.

for some time, he remains quiet, lets the question tumble around inside his chest and he thinks to himself. he's lived for an eternity and eons more, witnessed the rise and fall of gods and men, watched civilizations build from sand and create legends to be worshipped and idols to be forgotten, yet he finds himself wanting of an answer to her question. what value is there to life? to be born and to die? such has been the order of everything beneath the heavens — where life is created, death must inevitably follow. even the divine, as he'd long known, are no exception, and when he thinks on the severity of it all, he lets himself think if for a moment that the very purpose of life is damnation.

and yet, he knows that there's much more to it all than that.

"the value of life is growth," he gives his answer to the wind and to her, lets his voice permeate the silence and to find solace with what they may. "we exist to live and to learn, to grow day by day with an ever-changing world. even gods are no masters of existence as they too must obey the passage of time... every living thing must adapt, and to adapt, you must learn."

when he lets his eyes wander over to her, he finds that she's already looking at him with something like wander, her attention hangs on each and every word as if he spoke to her the most sacred scripture. it invokes within him something foreign, a feeling that is lost on him and simmers beneath his chest like the beginnings of a gentle flame. and from that flame, he gives to her a promise that holds to it such great weight and severity that it stuns even himself. so bold is he with his words that he would find himself feeling bashful and embarrassed many years later, but in this moment here, he gives them to her with the strongest sincerity and utterance that his growing, learning heart can offer.

"and, if you still find yourself searching for value or reason, then take me as your own, and i'll give to you what i can."

and this woman — gods, he still has yet to learn her name and to give her his own — she looks up at him with something new in her eyes. the stars in them glisten like thousands of fireflies as she asks him quietly, "and what must i give to you in return?"

ah. morax pauses; he hadn't necessarily thought of that. he allows himself a moment to think on it as his fingers weave together, eyes drifting to where the moon and stars dance atop the waters. "all that i ask in return is that you provide me company, just as i provided you tonight. be by my side for as long as you would like to and, in return, i will be whatever it is you need of me. let's call it a contract, shall we?"

"a contract?" she parrots, tilting her head. morax notices the way her braids fall ever so slightly to the side, and he thinks that the way she peers so curiously and, perhaps a bit confused, is nearly endearing.

"but of course," he says smoothly. "this is a gain and give agreement, wouldn't you say?"

the woman turns her eyes away in thought, lips pouted in her contemplation and her brows slightly creased as she hums. "well..." she mutters, "it feels a bit... uneven, doesn't it? it feels as if i'm gaining far more than you are."

"is that how it feels?" morax raises one eyebrow, watching as his companion nods her head, still wearing that concerned expression as she awaits his response. he chuckles, the sound rumbling within his chest like a gentle timbre. "having another's company after being alone for a long time is invaluable," he tells her with confidence and a certain knowledge that takes with it the reminder of an old pain. "i can assure you that simply having you by my side will be more than enough."

his answer soothes her worries, it seems, as she allows a smile to grow where her lips once pouted. half-lidded eyes show to him the beginnings of gratitude and devotion, and hidden behind them is a promise that he'd yet to learn of.

"well then," she laughs ever so slightly, her head tilted and eyes twinkling when she looks at him. "i'll do my best not to let you down then."

#ill.follow.you.🌼#ashanli.🌼#those are the tags for this little wip so! if anyone would like to block them now then! go ahead!#like i said this is just me taking

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copias-thrall · 4 years

Note

What if papa iii gets curious why copia has the same eye thing as his bloodline? That, is kinda a request? Idk it’s a thought.

The Emeritus bloodline. It goes back generations, some say to the Olde One himself—though that’s just a rumor. There had been the generation when they thought the heir lost—until a young Sister of Sin had met him at a party and activated his powers. (Although that story too is mostly exaggeration and embellishment from the man himself.)

One thing’s for certain, however—the Mark of the line is always one dark eye, one white. Nihil earned his after Sister Imperator had performed some rite to awaken the demon in him (not—as Nihil tells it—because she punched him in the face and it was awesome), and his sons had been born with Lucifer’s favor in place.

So when The Cardinal rocks up into the Clergy, Papa Emeritus III is aghast and flabbered to meet the man’s gaze only to find his own mismatched eyes meeting in a mirror mismatch. Copia doesn’t seem to feel anything is out of place—at least, not with the eyes … he does make a low, nervous rat noise when all Papa III does is stare at him, mouth agape.

When Papa storms into Sister Imperator’s office later demanding, “What the fanculo?!” she just smiles up at him in that imperious way of hers.

“It’s a gift from our Dark Lord. You didn’t think your bloodline was the only ones unblessed with his favor, did you? Oh … you did, didn’t you?”

It sends a chill down his spine, and he backs out of her office even as he’s cursing her in his head. It isn’t until he’s back in his quarters that he realizes she didn’t actually answer his question. Obviously it’s a mark of Satan—what he wants to know is how.

He embarks on a quest to figure out just how this is possible. He sends one of his Ghouls to the restricted area of the Abbey library for research, as he endeavors to ingratiate himself to The Cardinal so he can mine him for information. And it’s … kind of … fun? Copia is all wide eyes and stammering responses, even when all Papa does is sit next to him in the mess hall.

“Ah, Cardi … pasta again? Here, have some of my kale.”

“I-I, um. T-thank you, your Dark Excellency.”

Papa III waits, head resting on his hand, and he watches Copia force himself to chew and swallow the leafy greens.

“Mmm,” Copia manages to choke out.

Fun.

A week goes by.

Then another.

His Ghoul can find nothing other than the obvious in the ancient tomes: that those who bear His Mark are Favored by Him. There’s nothing on how or why, and only the recent history of his bloodline has any kind of record that includes names and circas.

Copia—while fucking adorable—never even comes close to letting any intimate detail slip. He’s all “my last Abbey” this and “this interesting translation” that and “I hear it’s ravioli night.” So Papa decides to bring out the big guns.

He passes The Cardinal in the hall, falling into line with his stride.

“We have a guys night, yes, Cardi?”

Copia jumps half out of skin.

“Uh w-what? Your Dark Excellency?”

“Guys. Night. We have a slumber party, no? I can tell you all my secrets. Mostly: moisturize.”

Copia frowns at him, and Papa III smacks his eyebrow furrow.

“And no frowning! Ai! No wonder you have parentesi.”

Papa III orders all the usuals for one of his liaisons … then remembers this is not a liaison and has the oysters taken away. He’s halfway through blowing out the candles when he reconsiders that having some candles might add some spooky ambiance, so he leaves the rest be. He’s in his favorite silk robe—which again: not a liaison—so he changes into his monogrammed silk pajamas.

Copia shows up at his door in the fugliest set of flannel pajamas—black and dotted with cartoon rats and cheese—and a bottle of port.

“Ah, Cardi! Entra.”

The Cardinal looks around Papa III’s chambers, hesitates.

“Am I early, Papa?”

“Early?”

“Sí. I appear to be the first arrival.”

Papa techts and waves his comment away.

“I already know their secrets. This is just for you and me, eh? A—hmm—icebreaker.”

Before The Cardinal can back out, Papa closes the door behind him and ushers him further into his quarters with a guiding hand on the small of his back. He leads Copia to the cushions, which are arranged on the floor around a tray of goodies.

“Sit, dear Cardi. Have a bit of cheese. Some prosciutto.”

As The Cardinal awkwardly arranges himself cross legged on the floor, Papa III pours them both a shot’s worth of grappa into his crystal tumblers. He hands Copia a glass—who accepts it with a soft grazie—and then lowers himself on the cushions to lounge on his side.

“Okie dokie. Now we play a little truth or truth. No answer, you drink. Now, per favore,” Papa III says as he makes a sweeping after you gesture.

Copia takes a sip of the grappa, humming in approval, before speaking.

“Uh. Papa—who is your favorite of all your harem?”

“Boring. It is whoever is in my bed at the time. When you make love it must be with your everything! Can I give my everything to a second favorite? No! My turn! Fuck, marry, kill: my older brother, our dear Imperator, and the Ghoul known as Special. Go!”

“I, uh…”

Copia makes a pained face, then downs his grappa. Papa chuckles even as he’s reaching for the bottle to refill Copia’s glass.

“Already, Cardi? Pace yourself.”

It becomes Papa III’s mission to ask Copia the most uncomfortable questions to get him to opt out, while he answers every single one. Soon enough, Copia is pie-eyed and slurring. He knocks the nibbles tray over with a whoopsie, before proceeding to shovel the fallen cheese and cured meat into his mouth saying These cheeses can be mine. Papa feels a little bad, but not enough to stop pressing for answers.

“Ah, a man after mine own heart. No waste!” He pats The Cardinal on his meaty thigh. “So much in common you and I, Cardi.”

Copia looks up at him, prosciutto dangling out of his mouth.

“You have rats?”

“I—no, Cardi.”

“I love mes ratsties, Papa. Oh! I should cheese them.”

Copia reaches out a drunk-numb hand to fumble at the cheeses, and then proceeds to stuff them in his chest pocket.

“Shh—don’t tell them.”

“Ok, Copia.”

As The Cardinal mumbles to himself about his rats, Papa decides to make him an espresso from his fancy machine. By the time he’s got a tiny cup for them both ready, Copia is half asleep on the cushions, cheese particles stuck in his mustache. It’s a little bit of a struggle—sleepy, drunk Copia is fussy—but Papa III manages to get him to sit up and drink the caffeine.

“Ah. Grazie, Papa.”

“Non è niente, caro Cardinale. Not when we are so similar.”

“Similar?”

“Sí. We are both men envied by the many. And we bear the gift.”

Copia tried to focus his eyes on him.

“A gift?”

“Sí,” says Papa. He reaches out and smooths a fingertip over Copia’s eyebrow before tapping at his white eye. “Was it dear?”

Copia squints. “Was what dear?”

“The price for the gift.”

Copia frowns. “Itssa secret.”

Papa III pouts and crosses his arms in a hurt affectation.

“Secrets, secrets, secrets. All night I have bared my soul to you. And yet you give niente in return. Perhaps I have misjudged you, no? You are only here to take.”

The Cardinal makes a wounded noise, and—again—Papa feels a little guilty at his game.

“No, Papa—no. It—I can’t.”

Papa turns away from The Cardinal.

“Perhaps you should be going.”

There’s a long pause—and Papa III thinks maybe he pushed too hard—but eventually he hears Copia sigh.

“I am not in the knowing, Papa. My eyes have always been thus. The sister in charge of the orphan wing always said my madre made the deal—and she disappeared with no trace before I became a man.”

Papa turns back around.

“An … orphan?”

“Sí.”

Papa tsks. “How hard for you, dear Cardi. Let’s to bed, no?”

It’s no mean feat getting the stumbling-drunk Cardinal onto the futon, but Papa III manages it with a modicum of whining (Copia’s) and a minimum of stubbed toes (also Copia’s). He rolls The Cardinal into a fluffy burrito, and even sets out some water and ibuprofen for him.

The Cardinal who wakes up—hungover as fuck—is not the same loosey-goosey man from the night before. If at all possible, he’s even shier, and he apologizes multiple times for anything “untoward” he may have done or said the night before. He apparently was totally blackout drunk.

Papa III does feel bad—Copia is an alarming shade of green, and the easy camaraderie they developed is gone—but it means that Copia doesn’t remember that he spilled his secret. Papa doesn’t stop courting Copia’s friendship—although he dials the aggression down a notch—but he does turn his focus elsewhere.

Whether or not Sister Imperator realizes the scrutiny she’s now under is anyone’s guess—the woman could give Mona Lisa a run for her money.

#asks #papa emeritus iii #pre-popia #cardinal copia #sfw

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adrishya · 3 years

Text

The Tale of Kamsa

A retelling of the popular story in Hindu mythology

trigger warning: mild description of snake death, possible toxic parent-child relationships

PART 1

“I do not know if Kamsa should be the heir to the throne anymore. His ambition grows greater day by day, and I don’t know if I can trust him to take care of the kingdom. What if he becomes a tyrant? I have to do what is best for my kingdom. Perhaps a different son…” His father Ugrasena’s words were like thorns in Kamsa’s side as he listened to him, hidden. He had been about to walk to the lavish dining area of the royal palace, when he heard Ugrasena’s words to Kamsa’s mother. “Yes, Kamsa is powerful,” Ugrasena continued. “He has potential. He defeated Jarasandha’s army singlehandedly. But his ambition is...frightening. And his birth, and the truth…”

“And the curse,” he heard his mother add.

“And that. Regardless, I have accepted him. And I have accepted you, my wife. He does not have to know that truth.”

What truth? What curse? Kamsa wondered. What were they hiding? Kamsa wanted to hear more, but Ugrasena had fallen silent. He walked casually into the dining area, as if he had not been eavesdropping moments before. Ugrasena sat up straight after spotting him and offered him a polite smile. As usual, Kamsa’s mother did not look at him. “My son,” Ugrasena said, his eyes crinkling, as if he hadn’t been talking about Kamsa behind his back a few moments earlier. He gave his father a tight smile in return. “Father.” Two could play this game, Kamsa thought. They conversed politely like two kings of separate kingdoms, exchanging accounts of their day. If Kamsa hadn’t been so focused on pretending nothing had happened, he would have noticed his mother flinch at the words “my son” and “father,” and he would have started to suspect that the doubts didn’t just have to do with his ambition, but perhaps also a terrible secret beyond his control.

Narada, considered the messenger of the gods, had come to visit him as he lay awake that night. A bright light, and he had appeared, his sly smile and knowing eyes drawing Kamsa in. He leaned towards Narada. “What brings you here?”

“Certainly you have started to suspect,” Narada replied coolly, his mouth tugging at the corners.

“Suspect what?”

“The truth, of course.”

Kamsa did not understand. What truth? His mind strayed back to the dinner earlier, where he had eavesdropped. He does not have to know that truth, his father had said. What had Ugrasena meant by that?

“My father?” Kamsa guessed. “He said something about me not having to know the truth. Is that what this is about?”

Narada did not answer. He came closer to Kamsa, and sat before him.

“Perhaps, you notice your mother never cares for you, Prince. She never speaks to you during dinner, never praises you like a mother should. She never even fed you when you were a young prince, like she would sometimes do for her other sons.“

Kamsa felt the sting, though he tried to hide it. “My mother does not particularly like me. Thank you for informing of this fact. Is this all?” Kamsa tried to keep his face neutral. But he had never understood why his mother didn’t care for him like she did her other sons.

Narada laughed. “Mothers should care for their sons,” he said, almost as if he had read Kamsa’s mind. “You are her son, no doubt? Yes, yes, you certainly are, Kamsa. But your father…now there lies a doubt that hasn’t been planted in your mind. All your life you could believe a lie, and never even know it. The advantage of not knowing everything. The advantage of not being a god. A blessing, and a curse…” Narada had seemingly started rambling. Kamsa sat up straight and looked the god in the eyes with as much dignity as he could muster.

“Narada, what exactly are you trying to say? Do not ramble to me with truths concealed cleverly in your words. I do not have the energy to try and decipher them.”

“Have it your way, Prince Kamsa of Mathura.” Narada’s eyes twinkled. “You are the son of a Ghandarva. Ugrasena is not your father. That is all I will say.” And then Narada was gone.

A Ghandarva, a shape shifting demon, had somehow...with his mother...And Kamsa had been the result.

Kamsa did not sleep that night.

The next morning, Kamsa pulled off his lavish bed covers. He wished he had slept, so that he would have had those few moments of peace when he woke, where he wouldn’t have remembered his encounter with Narada the night before. There was a bliss in not knowing, yet he was horrified that he hadn’t known all that time.

Kamsa knew many things. He knew he did not care much for his kingdom. It was rather the idea of being king that he was so attracted to, the power he’d have over the people. He knew it was a tyrannical thought to have, but it occurred to Kamsa that he was a rather tyrannical person. Being a tyrant...why was it decided that it was inherently bad? Wasn’t it good, at least, for the tyrant? Kamsa thought, amused. He roamed the garden behind his royal home, his eyes raking the plants lazily. A snake slithered in the lush grass, but Kamsa didn’t notice. Someone who was watching him from afar, they might have thought he was bored. However, his mind was racing. He was thinking about many things. Things he knew. Things he wished he didn’t know.

You are the son of a Ghandarva, Narada had said.

Ugrasena is not your real father.

I don’t care, Kamsa told himself. Despite whether Ugrasena was his real father or not, he still...Kamsa stopped himself and almost pushed the thought away. Almost. After Narada’s visit, something in his head was urging him to think it. To feel it, to bask in it. The truth that he’d kept trying to convince himself was a lie. Kamsa closed his eyes, and gave himself permission.

He still despised Ugrasena.

To Kamsa, everything about Ugrasena was despicable. Everything he did was an example of things Kamsa would make sure he’d never do. Ugrasena’s lack of real ambition. His lack of going through with his desires when he pleased. It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t a way a king should live, Kamsa thought to himself. Every time he saw Ugrasena’s supporters, he wanted to...Kamsa didn’t finish the thought, but his fingers strayed to the hilt of his sword.

Ugrasena’s doubts were certainly not unwarranted. Kamsa had an ambitious streak that many thought would lead to evil. But Kamsa knew that it would only carry him to further heights, heights that those who criticized him for his ambition could only dream of. Ugrasena could never understand. Yet…after Narada’s visit, he couldn’t help but think that perhaps Ugrasena’s doubts were because of more than just his ambition. Perhaps it was-

“Prince Kamsa.” Kamsa continued staring at the plants in the garden, lost in his thoughts. He did not hear that someone had called his name.

Perhaps it was-

“Prince Kamsa,” the voice said again, more insistent this time. Kamsa turned behind him, suddenly snapping back to the real world. A flurry of a thousand arms, and he knew it was Banasura. He took a step back instinctively. He’d always felt slightly intimidated by Banasura’s presence, and it took effort not to show it. However, Kamsa trusted him and his advice. He didn’t have to plaster on a smile, anyway.

“What brings you here?” Kamsa asked. Banasura didn’t respond right away. Kamsa’s eyes narrowed. It was as if Banasura was preparing to say a speech that he’d practiced. Kamsa found himself leaning towards him, curious to hear whatever Banasura wanted to spit out. “Speak.” Kamsa finally said forcefully, starting to feel suspicious that Banasura had bad news.

“Yes, yes. I...just wanted to tell you how proud I was when you singlehandedly defeated Jarasandha’s army. I am thoroughly impressed by you, my friend. And I am sure Jarasandha is as well. Even a fool could see your potential.”

This had not been what he was expecting, but Kamsa’s shoulders relaxed. It had not been bad news after all. But this sudden flattery from Banasura was making Kamsa slightly wary.

“Thank you, dear friend. You flatter me. But...potential for what, exactly?”

“To be king. King of Mathura.”

Kamsa studied his expression, which was starting to morph into a cunning smile. Was this some sort of trick? Was Banasura planning something? Perhaps he was even in league with Ugrasena, who had doubts about his potential kingship...no. Banasura was one of his closest friends. He would never turn against him. Kamsa frowned at the snake that he had just then noticed, hissing in the grass. His hand wrapped around his sword hilt.

“Why are you saying this, Banasura? This feels rather...out of the blue. I cannot help but feel suspicious.” Kamsa asked as he unsheathed the sword, eyeing the snake, which was slithering closer to him.

“I am not trying to trick you, dear friend. I am only telling you the truth. You are much more than just a prince, Kamsa. I know it. You’re born to be king. You cannot tell me that you don’t lay awake at night and mourn at the fact that your skills are wasted as a mere prince of Mathura. Take your rightful place, Kamsa.”

Kamsa blinked, looking up at Banasura. These were words he’d never heard. Now that he’d heard them, he wanted to hear them again and again.

“But I am the heir,” Kamsa answered. But are you still? A voice in his head taunted. Perhaps when he went inside, he would be faced with his father telling him he was no longer the heir. Perhaps his dreams of being king were being crushed by Ugrasena as he spoke with Banasura in the garden.

“Kamsa.” His voice lowered to a hush. “We both know that Ugrasena grows wary of you. He may…think of revoking your right to ascend the throne. As your ambition grows, his doubts grow as well. We cannot rely on you being the heir to ascend the throne.”

“I have this same feeling as well,” Kamsa confided hesitantly, as he moved closer to the snake. “I even overheard Ugrasena speaking about his doubts. But…” Kamsa did not finish his sentence, and raised his sword over the snake. He knew Banasura was awaiting a certain response.

“What do you propose we do?”Kamsa asked finally. Banasura’s cunning smile grew bigger. It was an expression that made even Kamsa shudder, though in delight or fear, he could not tell.

“Overthrow Ugrasena.” Banasura’s voice was barely a whisper, but Kamsa felt the weight of the words like it was a war cry. Before Kamsa could, Banasura unsheathed his own sword and stabbed the snake in a sudden, fast move. His smile grew wider, staring at the snake that convulsed and then lay still. Kamsa felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he stared at the snake. He sheathed his own sword. Overthrowing Ugrasena? A worthy punishment for an unworthy king. As Banasura walked away, Kamsa watched him, but all he saw was the image of Banasura stabbing the snake, replayed in his mind again and again.

You are much more than a prince.

You are born to be the king.

Overthrow Ugrasena.

Take your rightful place, Kamsa.

The words of Banasura echoed in Kamsa’s mind as he lay awake once again that night. The seed was planted by one of his closest friends, and watered by Kamsa’s ambition. It grew slowly at first, just a small sprout among a garden. No sturdy stem, no leaves, no flowers or fruits. It could easily have been plucked out. But as he lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling, he could not help it. He let it grow.

#writing #writblr #creative writing #my writing #hindu mythology #mythology #hindu culture #retelling

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taetaesbaebaepsae · 4 years

Text

Inferno

A/n: This is the same reader and in the same universe as Brimstone, and features witch!reader from Bewitched as y/n’s friend and also mentions succubus!reader from Pomegranate Seeds, and a little mention toward the end of vampire!reader from Love Bite. You don’t have to read those first, but it might make a little more sense if you do!

Summary: You’d summoned three demons with your crossroads spell, but not all of them are content to share.

Warnings: vaginal fingering, oral (f. receiving), a little edging and switch!Jimin, marking, unprotected sex, talk of the incubus demon sex addiction thing mentioned in Pomegranate Seeds, whiny Jimin but also possessive Jimin, dirty talk, some angst

Word Count: 3227

It's simple, at first. When Jimin sees something he wants, he gets it.

It's been that way his whole life, and not because he was born with some silver fucking spoon in his mouth like Taemin, or had both sides backing him up like Jongin.

It'd been because he was good at what he did. And yeah, maybe some of it had to do with how he looked, how he was trained in the art of seduction, but most of the learning he'd done on his own.

He doesn't mind sharing souls, not usually, at least, but you... you were something different.

Your soul wasn't pure, you weren't even quite innocent, and that appealed to him in a way he wasn't expecting.

Usually, he'd have to apply to do this solo, would have to campaign to get sole rights to your soul from the higher ups. But between his old succubus friend showing up and the new fallen, Taemin and Jongin had been distracted.

More than distracted, really. Taemin had locked himself in his chambers, depleting the bar stock in a week.

Jongin had sworn off going to Earth entirely, just moping around hell not talking to anyone.

Jimin had no idea what had happened, but it had really made things easier for him. Everything was going his way…..except of course….you.

You'd let him in, the first night he showed up alone, but when he'd tilted his head to kiss you, you backed away.

"Uh-uh. Not so fast. I want answers, first."

Jimin pouts. "Answers?"

You nod fiercely and usher him to the couch.

Jimin pouts harder. The pout always works. Why isn't the pout working? He should have his hands down your pajama pants by now.

"I did some research," you say, putting your hands on your knees primly.

"Oh no," he groans.

"And I read that demons have to answer honestly if you ask them a direct question," you continue, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Shit," he mutters, but there's a smile turning up the corner of his mouth. It's impressive, really. Most humans didn't bother, took it at face value.

"You're the incubus, right?"

Jimin raises an eyebrow. "I am."

"Incubi have some kind of...addictive properties, yeah?"

Jimin draws in a breath. "Uh….yeah."

"But I'm not addicted?"

He shakes his head. "It's only through vaginal sex, which unfortunately, I didn't get to sample. Yet." He grins at you, but you're still frowning.

"So if I don't have sex with you, I can't get addicted?"

His smile fades. "Aw, but Jagi, that's no fun. You summoned me for a reason, yeah?"

"Didn't I summon three of you?"

Jimin twitches a little on the couch. "What, I'm not enough?"

"I mean no disrespect, but if I'm gonna fuck a demon I'd rather it be one that didn't make me some kind of...sex junkie."

Jimin huffs. "Well, I'm here. They're not." He puts a hand on your thigh, walking his fingers up.

You stiffen a little, but then your thighs spread, and he smirks, drags his fingers up your pussy through your thin pajama shorts.

"Already so hot for me, Jagi?"

“No wonder you’re addictive,” you murmur when he hooks his fingers inside your panties.

"Why are you here, and not them, Jimin? What do you want?”

“That’s simple, Jagi. I want you all to myself.”

He feels like he's won when he's got your shorts and panties off, when he's made you cum once with his fingers, but when you straddle him and he groans into the skin of your throat, you at your hand midway through stroking his cock.

"Jagi," he whines.

"One more question, Jiminie. If you don't cum inside me, I don't get affected, yeah?" You drag you thumb over the tip of his cock and he hisses in a breath.

"T-technically, yes, but-"

You rock your hips and guide him inside you and the rest of his words die in his throat.

"Fuck, you... you're so hot and slick, Jagi-"

You roll your hips in a tight circle and Jimin thinks you could have had a hell of a career as a succubus with the way you move.

"You have to tell me when you're close," you warn, and he whines low in his throat.

"Sh-shit." He slides his hand between your bodies, presses his thumb on your clit, just the right amount of pressure until your cunt is pulsing around his cock and he's bucking beneath you, pleading.

"Jagi, Jagi, Y/n, I'm gonna cum, please let me cum in your tight cunt, ah-"

You grab his cock at the base and pull him out of you while he cries out.

You kiss his throat, stroking him, and fuck, he isn't used to this, isn't used to being the one begging but it's so fucking hot…

"Aw, Jiminie, you gonna cum for me? Bet you look so pretty when you cum."

"Ah, fuck, fuck, yes...yes I'll cum for you just don't stop, please, please-"

He comes like a fucking firehouse all over the both of you with your mouth locked at the base of his throat, and he laughs a little shakily.

"How sure are you that you don't have demon blood?" You laugh, and it changes your whole face, brightens your eyes, and it does something to his chest, tightens it somehow.

He finds himself begging a lot with you.

"Jagi, my mouth isn't addictive, yeah? Please, please let me taste you. Want you to cum on my tongue," and "Please let me fuck you, just for a moment, need your heat, Jagi," and somehow he's not even ashamed.

It's frustrating that you won't let him cum in you, in your mouth or your pussy, that he hasn't even been able to talk you into anal again despite the time he's spent rimming your tight asshole, but he takes what he can get, and it's enough.

Until one night when he shows up and there's rock salt lined in front of your door and your windows.

He doesn't know what he did wrong. Sure, maybe he'd begged to spill inside you a lot the last night he'd been there, but afterward he'd gone out to get your favorite ice cream in apology and your smile had done that thing to his chest again. And maybe he'd stayed a bit too long, after, fallen asleep with his head on your stomach and your hands in his hair but that's nothing. That's no reason to shut him out.

You won't come to the door no matter how much he pleads and finally he gives up, voice hoarse, tears stinging at the backs of his eyes. He ends up falling asleep, curled up on your doorstep, as close to the salt line as he can get.

🔥

When you open the door and see him lying on your doorstep, your heart lurches in your chest. He looks so small, unassuming, not the intimidating, smirking demon you knew.

"Jiminie?" You call, softly, and he scrambles up, rubbing his eyes.

"Jagi," he breathes. "Why...why did you lock me out? What did I do wrong? I promise not to beg so much next time-"

You can't stand it, the look on his face, how his dark eyes are wet, how he's wringing his hands.

Your friend had been right.

You'd called her after that last night, afraid of how you were feeling, how you looked for him every night, thought about him all the time.

You tell her everything.

"And now I'm afraid I fucked up and I'm addicted after all and ...why aren't you saying anything?"

"I cannot believe your dumb ass went and fell in love with a crossroads demon."

"Technically, he's an incubus and I'm not in love it's just that I'm addicted-"

"Demon addiction doesn't make you think about his smile and his cute little giggle, Y/n. You're in love."

"Shit. Oh shit, what do I do?"

"I gave you the spell so I feel partially responsible. Do you know his name? You can do a ritual-"

"Yeah, his name is Jimin."

"Oh, no."

You feel panic rising in your throat. “What do you mean, oh no?”

“I mean I’m a witch, I know a lot of demons and that name is not one that you want to fuck with, Y/n. He always gets the souls he’s after. Always. There’s no ritual that works.”

“There’s nothing I can do? I’m just damned?”

Your witch friend tells you about rock salt and demon traps and how to keep him out in the hope that he gives up and loses interest, and you almost break the very first night, almost break the salt line immediately when he says your name, all broken, right at your door around 2am.

“It’s...it’s not you, Jimin,” you say quietly, and your hands are itching to reach out and take his but that’d break the line and you’re determined to get him out of your system, whether it be addiction or love or whatever the fuck it might be. “I...I just want to keep my soul.”

“But, Y/n-”

You shut the door, sneaking out the back instead before you start crying.

🔥

Jimin stands there at your doorstep for a long time, staring down at the salt line through tears. Another moment and he would’ve told you that he’d let you keep your soul, let you keep anything you wanted if you’d just let him hold you again.

But that'd be a lie. Wouldn't it? He's just upset because he's losing a shot at your soul. It isn't about you. It can't be.

He ends up back in hell for the rest of the week, slamming doors and snapping at the lesser demons and he’s shocked when Taemin calls him into his office.

Taemin still smells like a brewery but he’s straightened his tie, cleaned up a bit, seeming a little more put together and at least half sober.

“Wanted to go over your reports on our human,” Taemin drawls, leaned back in his office chair, and Jimin sits down in the chair opposite his desk, sulking.

“Not much to go over,” he mutters.

Taemin raises an eyebrow. "That's not what she said."

Jimin stiffens in his seat, a sudden knot in his throat. "Wh-what? When did you speak to her?"

A smirk twists Taemin's full mouth. "Last night. She's pretty chatty after an orgasm, don't you think?"

Jimin stands before he knows what he's doing, knocking over the chair in the process, fire boiling in his stomach, throat working. "You fucked her? You know she's mine!"

"Ah, don't worry, Jiminie. I'll give you all the credit for her soul." Taemin says dismissively, not reacting to Jimin's outburst, shuffling papers on his desk.

Jimin can't move, feeling rooted in place, something clawing in his guts, his throat. He'd been there when Taemin had shoved his cock in your mouth, when he'd had his mouth on your clit, that first night, had seen how much you loved it and now he wanted to scream thinking about how he might have touched you the night before. He can't tell if the tears forming in his eyes are from rage or pain and he wipes at them angrily.

"Unless of course, it's her heart and not her soul you're interested in?" Taemin still doesn't look up from his desk.

"I-I don't-" Jimin stutters, and Taemin's gaze shoots to his and his face softens a bit.

"I see the way you've been acting. I may have been...indisposed, but I'm not blind. Maybe you should talk to Jongin about falling for a human. He might just talk you out of it."

Jimin has never been so fucking angry in his life. He wants to vault across the desk and punch the prince in his stupid smug face. He wants to burn the whole fucking office down, images of Taemin making you shiver running through his head.

"What, would it be better if I fell in love with a demon girl who didn't want me?"

Taemin tightens his jaw. "Watch it, Jimin."

"Or maybe I should just talk to her, yeah? Your girl seems pretty happy with that human boy. Maybe she's got some tips." Jimin spits out the words like venom, needing to hurt someone, needing to let out what felt like poison in his veins.

Taemin stands, slamming his hands down on his desk. "I said watch your fucking mouth, incubus. I didn't fuck your human. I'm starting to wish I had."

Jimin feels such a wave of relief that he has to brace his hand on the desk to keep from swaying on his feet.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out, almost breathless as the rage slowly leaves him. "I'm sorry, Taemin. I shouldn't have said that."

Taemin sits, letting out a long breath. "You're dismissed."

Jimin doesn't move, not yet, just watching Taemin's face. "Is this...is this how you felt? Thinking of her with that human?"

Taemin looks back down at the papers on his desk. "Every day," he says softly.

"Taemin-"

"I said you're dismissed. Go to your human. Do whatever you want." He chuckles a little bitterly, running a hand through his hair. "At least one of us should be happy."

Jimin leaves without another word, and he manages to catch you coming home from work.

You've got your keys in the lock and you freeze when he whispers your name.

"Jimin, I can't-"

"I can't lie to you if you ask me a direct question, yeah? Ask me if I care about getting your soul."

You turn, and his jaw is clenched tight, eyes focused and determined. "Jimin-"

"Ask me if I'm in love with you."

Your breath catches in your throat. "I-"

"Ask me!" His hands have tightened into fists at his side, he's all tensed up.

You let out a long breath. "Are you just trying to take my soul."

"No. I don't care about that anymore. Not for a while."

"Do you...do you love me, Jimin?" You're biting your lip, as if you're nervous to hear the answer and he steps closer to you.

"Yes. I love you so much, Jagi, it's making me crazy." His voice softens, hands coming up to rub your arms.

"You really can't lie to me?" Your voice is shaking and he can't help kissing your mouth softly.

"I really can't, baby. I don't even want to. Will you let me in, now? Let me show you how much I mean it, yeah?'

You brush the salt aside with your foot and he can't wait until you lead him to the bedroom, sweeping your hair aside to suck and bite at your throat just inside the doorway and he's still begging, it seems to be a trend with you.

"You won't ever cast me out again, Jagi? Please, don't do that again."

"I won't, baby, I promise."

He breathes out a sigh of relief against your skin, he's moved to marking the tops of your breasts, hands stroking down your back.

His heart is soaring when you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers in his hair.

You do end up taking him to the bedroom and he undresses you slow, reverently, crooning praises between kisses on your mouth, your neck, your hipbones, sucking marks everywhere his mouth touches.

"You're so beautiful, Jagi. So good. I missed you so much."

He kisses your inner thigh and he knows it's stupid, Taemin had admitted he was lying but suddenly he remembers Taemin's smirk between your thighs and it makes his blood rush so fast he can hear it in his ears.

"Did Taemin come to see you, while I was away?" He asks, softly, looking up at you with his cheek pressed to your thigh.

Your breath catches a little. "He did."

Jimin wills himself not to be angry, tells himself over and over nothing happened but he still bites down hard on the soft flesh of your thigh, making you whimper. He doesn't trust himself to speak so he just latches onto your clit, making you gasp and cry out and he's so proud that it's his name on your lips he feels like he might burst.

He doesn't know if all humans taste this sweet or if it's just you, just the way you make him feel, but he's moaning against your clit when you cum, tightening your thighs around his head.

Then it's you that's begging, for once, you that's pleading and it makes him rut against the bed.

"Please, Jiminie. Please fuck me, please please-"

Jimin groans low in his throat. "I can't, Jagi, you said you didn't want to be affected-"

"I trust you, Jimin, you'll help me, yeah? You'll take care of me?"

The breath leaves his body when he slides up your body. "Always. Always, Jagi."

You lock your ankles around his lower back, and his cock slides up your slick and he buries his face in your neck, letting out a whining moan.

"Are you sure? You have to be sure, Jagi."

You reach down to take his cock in your hand, guiding him into you, staring into his eyes. "I'm sure, Jiminie. I've never been more sure of anything."

He can't hold back anymore, hips jerking on their own. "Oh, Jagi, fuck, fuck, you feel so good...can I fill you up? Can I fill your pretty pussy with my cum?"

When you moan out a yes he kisses you hard, moaning into your mouth, fucking you so hard he's propelling you up the bed and you move your hands to grab the headboard, whimpering.

He's still inside you when he asks about Taemin again and you're still coming down, giggling when he pouts at you.

"We just talked, baby."

"Why'd you talk to him but not me?" He knows he's being childish but he can't help it.

"He was kind of a mess. Half drunk and mumbling about someone named Persephone?"

Jimin laughs a little. "That's not her name, but that's what he calls her."

Now it's you that's pouting, and it's so cute he can't help nipping at your bottom lip.

"Should I be worried?" You ask, and he laughs again, heart feeling light.

"Never, Jagi. I'm all yours. And you're all mine, yeah?"

🔥

You're aching for him again in an hour, waking him up by nipping at the back of his neck, and he smiles at you, trails his hands over your body when you pay a little.

"It gets easier, baby. It gets easier, and until then, I'll help you," he croons, and your skin cools, your heart rate slows when he's inside you again.

It's not so bad after all, being in love with a demon, you tell your witch friend, thanking her for giving you that spell at her wedding.

Her new husband, Hoseok, is wrapped around her, a little wide eyed when he meets Jimin, asks to see the nubs of his horns, and your friend laughs.

"Your friend is marrying a vampire next month, what's the big deal in Y/n having a demon boyfriend?"

You both burst out laughing when Hoseok shrieks "VAMPIRE?"

It isn't so bad being in love with a demon, especially when your skin grows hot and he sneaks you into one of the pews to slip his fingers up your bridesmaid dress.

#ksmut club #3kwords #jimin x reader #park jimin x reader #demon!jimin au #brimstone universe

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scribomaniac · 4 years

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Something Wicca This Way Comes Ch 3

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The police station was a drab and depressing building, built from gray stone and accented with iron steel. However, not even it’s ugly facade could dampen Killian’s good mood. Thoughts of the Savior had quickly left his mind as soon as he finally escaped the manor, and the only remaining thoughts revolved around a beautiful blonde and whether or not she might want to take an early lunch with him.

Brushing past several uniformed officers and a few suited bodies, Killian stopped right in front of a desk that was topped with a placard reading Detective E. Swan. “Hello Swan,” Killian all but purred, bracing his hands on the edge of her desk and leaning forward.

Emma glanced up from the file she was reviewing with raised brows. Looking at her watch she said, “You’re early.”

“Well you know how the saying goes,” Killian grinned, “the early bird catches the worm.”

“And what,” Emma asked as she leaned forward herself, her long, golden hair slipping past her shoulders, “is the worm in this metaphor, exactly?”

“Lunch perhaps? Just you and me?” Killian raised a brow, his blue eyes meeting her green ones. “What do you say, Swan?”

“I say,” Emma smiled, a small, hesitant thing, “I should take your statement.”

“Right, that.” Killian nodded then pushed himself away from the desk and plopped himself into the chair on the side of her desk, the one that criminals usually sat in while awaiting processing. "Very well. Statement first, then lunch."

Ignoring him, Emma pulled out a form and asked, "Name?"

"Killian Jones."

"Address?"

Scratching at his ear, Killian replied, "1329 Prescott Street."

"Have you always lived there?"

The question surprised him, as he didn't think it was something the form had asked. Sitting up straighter, emboldened by her interest, Killian answered, "Since I was thirteen or so, but before that I lived in England with my brother.”

Emma sat back in her chair and tilted her head, "What made your family come to San Francisco?"

"My father remarried. She was American and they wanted to start a life in her hometown."

That was mostly true. Lilian had been born and raised in San Francisco, but by the time she'd met his father, everyone who knew her had thought her dead for at least fifty years. She'd been a white-lighter to his witch father, and they'd fallen in love.

Unfortunately for them, relationships between white-lighters and their charges wasn't allowed. No one was supposed to know, and no one would have ever known, probably, if it hadn't been for William. Who knew a white-lighter could get pregnant? Not Lilian and certainly not his father. Once the Elders discovered the relationship, and it’s intensity, his father and Lilian went on the run, leaving Killian and Liam behind for their own good. At least, that’s what they were told by Brennan the night he left.

Then, nine years later, after Lilian died at the hands of a dark-lighter, the Elder’s forgot their anger, and Brennan remembered his two other sons.

"Occupation?"

Sniffing, Killian averted his eyes and took in the surroundings of the station. Not much was going on. David's desk was empty, as was the conference room and Captain's office. There were a few people in the holding cell at the back of the room, but he could tell they were mostly drunks just sleeping off the alcohol.

"Mr. Jones?" Emma's voice caught his attention.

"Killian, love. I insist," He gave her a small wink, as an added touch.

"Killian," Emma said with a faint smile, one that could easily be overlooked. "What do you do for a living?"

Coughing to cover up a wince, Killian told her, "I was in the Navy for a while. Left about three or four years ago."

Emma wrote down what he said, then asked the dreaded follow-up question, "Honorably discharged?"

"Liam was, aye," Killian looked down at his fingers, intertwined on his lap. "Me, not quite."

"Oh." Blue eyes snapping up, Killian noticed Emma's knitted brow and surprised frown. "Sorry," she shook her head, "it's just I would've thought--" she cut herself off suddenly, darting her eyes back down to the paper before her. "What do you do now?"

Vanquish demons, he wanted to say, conjure spirits, brew potions, oh and occasionally I box, too.

Instead he said, "I bartend every now and then at my brother's pub."

"All right, now that that's over," Emma flipped a page over in the form, then looked back up at him, “Tell me what happened.”

Killian regalled her of the story he and Liam had decided upon the night before. He told Swan of how they were on their way to meet up with Nolan for a pint when they heard something suspicious in the alleyway. They soon saw the crazed, bald headed man standing over Nolan with a knife and the two of them acted immediately. Tackling the offender to the ground, disarming him, and subsequently rendering him unconscious.

“That was pretty brave of you two,” Emma said, “not many people would’ve stuck their necks out like that--even for someone they knew.”

“Ah, well you see, Swan,” Killian smirked confidently, “if it’s one thing I’m good at, it’s surviving. Now that that’s all finished, what do you say to a bit of lunch?”

Emma laughed, averting her eyes and shaking her head, “You sure are persistent, Mr. Jones.”

“Killian,” he corrected again. “And I’ve learned from experience that you’ll never get anywhere in life without it.”

Looking at her watch, Emma hummed, “I’ll have to pass on lunch, but I can spare a few minutes for a walk.”

“Wonderful,” jumping to his feet, Killian began to lead the way. “You’re new to this station, aye? Are you new to the city as well?”

“Yeah, I, uh,” she took a moment to lock his statement up in her desk drawer, then followed him out of the station, “I just moved here last month.”

“From where, if I may be so bold as to ask?”

Chuffing out a light laugh at his small tease, she answered, “New York, and Boston before that.”

“An East Coast girl, eh?” They took a turn to the left outside of the police station. It was a shame Swan could only spare a short walk. There was so much in the city he’d love to show her, but Killian supposed that would just have to wait. “What brought you all the way to California?”

“Work,” she said vaguely. Then, as if an afterthought, added, “I mean, I was transferred here after making Detective.” She shrugged, “You gotta go where the jobs are.”

“Oh, aye, I understand that. Do you enjoy the city?”

“It’s not too different from any of the others I’ve lived in.” She looked up and squinted at the bright, blue sky, “The weather’s pretty nice though.”

Biting the corner of his lip, Killian turned a corner and pressed his luck, “You didn’t mind leaving your loved ones behind? Family, friends,” he paused, “a boyfriend, perhaps?”

Emma snorted, “Smooth, Captain obvious.” Shoving her hands into her pockets, she let out a long sigh and said, “Look, I’m kinda a loner. Always have been.”

“You don’t like your parents then?” Killian winced at his blunt question, but he could understand that feeling quite well himself. Before his death, Killian and his father hadn’t been on the best of terms. That’s what happened, he supposed, when a father leaves his two children in the hands of a brute while he went off with his pretty new wife and child to a new country.

“Don’t have parents.” The words were short and practiced, like she’d said them many times before.

Wanting to kick himself, Killian tried to apologize, “Shit, Swan, I’m--”

Emma smiled at him courteously. It wasn’t a genuine smile, but a mask people put on to make others at ease, “Don’t worry about it. You can’t miss what you never had, right?”

They turned another corner, and a gust of air blew into them, causing Emma’s golden curls to fly about her face. She stopped to push her hair back and before Killian could help himself, he reached out and tucked a small tendril behind her ear.

She froze at his touch, looking up at him with wide, green eyes and her lips pulled down into a surprised frown.

Snatching his hand back as if it’d been burnt, he said, “Sorry, I didn’t--ahh--” Bloody hell he was making a mess of this.

“No, um,” Emma looked down and retucked the hair behind her ears. “Thanks.”

They continued on in awkward silence until they made another turn. They were more than halfway through their walk now, almost back to where they started. Having already shoved his foot as far into his mouth as he could, he figured he had nothing more to lose by asking, “Do you have any plans this weekend, Swan?”

“Just helping out with the arraignment hearing tomorrow.” She let out a half heart chuckle and added, “Great way to celebrate my birthday, huh?”

“Surely you have more planned than that,” Killian’s brows furrowed. She’d said she was a loner, and she was still very new to the city, but still--it was her birthday. She deserved to do more than spend the day in a courtroom. When Emma did nothing more than shrug, Killian made up his mind. “We’ll do something, then.”

Seeing Emma’s raised brows, and remembering just how badly this walk of theirs had gone so far, Killian quickly retraced his steps and added, “I’ll bring Liam and my other brother, Will. And Tink, too! We’ll all go out to Liam’s pub after the arraignment for a few drinks.” Realizing he was rambling, Killian gave her his best, most charming smirk, and said, “What do you say, Swan?”

Emma stopped, and Killian realized they’d finally made it back to the station.

“Sure, why not?” Emma tilted her head and looked him up and down. “Your brother’s bar isn’t far from the courthouse, right? Let’s meet up there around five.”

Surprised that she’d agreed--surprised, but immensely pleased--Killian nodded his affirmative. “We’ll see you then.”

“Killian!” Liam called out, walking up for his own appointment with Emma. “Hello Detective,” he smiled, “I hope I’m not late.”

“Not at all,” Emma said, taking a step up towards the station’s entrance. “Come follow me.”

“Will this take long?” Liam asked, looking between Emma and Killian, “I was hoping Killian and I could ride home together,” he locked eyes with Killian as he said, “we have some family matters to discuss.”

Closing his eyes to prevent Emma from seeing them roll, Killian was immediately reminded of their conversation this morning and how they were meant to find the Savior.

“Won’t take long at all,” Emma assured him, obviously missing the sudden tension between the two brothers. “Killian,” his eyes snapped up to her, his heart pounding in his chest at her use of his name, “you can either wait out here or in the lobby.”

“Here’s fine, Swan. Thanks.” Looking back towards his brother, he said, “Take your time.”

After giving his brother a very unimpressed look, the eldest Jones brother ascended the station’s steps and disappeared inside to give his statement. Leaning against a handrail, Killian scanned his eyes over the passing crowds to pass the time.

Soon a familiar face appeared. David Nolan walked towards him, his hands holding a cup of coffee from the nearby diner, Granny’s.

“Nolan,” Killian nodded in greeting.

“Killian,” the older man nodded back. “What are you doing out here?”

Jerking his chin towards the direction of the station, he answered, “Liam’s just finishing up his witness statement.”

“Oh yeah,” David’s brows rose with realization, “the arraignment hearing for that guy is tomorrow, isn’t it?”

Frowning, Killian wondered at the detective’s forgetfulness. “Aye, mate, the one for the lunatic who tried to kill you. That guy.”

David laughed, but it was a quiet, hollow thing. “Guess I need caffeine more than I thought.”

“Right,” Killian said slowly. Then, as David took a step up to pass by, Killian asked, “You don’t have any plans for Emma tomorrow, do you?”

Tilting his head, David frowned and shook his head, “No, why?”

Killian wondered if Emma was still too new as a partner, or if she just hadn’t told David about her birthday yet. She didn’t seem to be hiding it, but she wasn’t promoting it to the world either. “It’s Swan’s birthday so I just wanted to make sure,” he paused, “you and Mary Margaret used to bring Humbert over for dinner for that sort of thing.”

“Oh,” David stood taller, “oh, I didn’t, um,” he furrowed his brows and looked down at his feet. “No, I didn’t know it was her birthday.”

Killian shrugged, “No matter. I’m getting a few people together for her so it works out. After the arraignment we’ll go to Liam’s. Want to join? The invitation is open to your lovely wife as well, of course.”

“No.” David said quickly. “Sorry, tomorrow’s no good. Maybe another time.” Before Killian could say anything more David was up the stairs and inside the building.

What a strange day this was turning out to be.

Not long after Liam reappeared by his side. “Ready?” He asked, “Or did you need to get one more flirt in?”

Killian snorted, “I’m not that bad. Besides, need I remind you how much flirting went on between you and Tink?” When his brother’s cheeks darkened to a ruddy red, Killian nodded, “Exactly.”

They headed for the parking lot, and Killian quickly spotted the car. Wanting to delay their supernatural discussion as much as possible, he said, “It’s Swan’s birthday tomorrow. It turns out she’s new to town so I offered for us all to meet up for some drinks.”

“Define all,” Liam said, pulling out his car keys and pressing the button to unlock the doors.

Killian waited until he was seated before answering, “You, me, Will, Tink.” He reached for his seatbelt then added, “I invited Nolan, too, but he can’t make it.” Liam grunted, turning the key to start the engine. “He seemed off just now when we spoke,” Killian thought about his most recent brush with the Underworld. “You don’t think that Guardian demon has anything to do with it?”

“The Guardian?” Liam asked, his attention mostly on the rear window and he backed out of the parking spot.

“Aye, you know, maybe his behavior is being affected somehow?”

“Killian, you can’t be serious,” Liam looked away from the road to give his brother an incredulous look. “Nolan’s behavior has nothing to do with demons.” Looking forward again, he sighed and said, “It’s the anniversary of his daughter’s death.” Glancing over and seeing Killian’s stunned face, he said, “Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

“How the bloody hell was I supposed to know?” He and David weren’t that close, and the only photo he’d ever seen on the detective’s desk were of his wife and son, Neal. “Why doesn’t he have any pictures of her?”

“Because he doesn’t have any pictures of her,” Liam shook his head. “She died the day she was born, or something like that. I’m not too sure. Have you never noticed,” he looked directly at his brother again, “over the past three years how depressed he becomes around this time?”

Killian winced, realizing that he hadn’t. To his credit, though, it wasn’t as if David ever spoke about this directly with him. Never once in all the years Killian knew him did David ever mention having a daughter.

Leaning his head back against the seat rest, Killian closed his eyes, suddenly very tired, “Bloody hell what a day this has been.”

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Hope you all enjoyed! The next couple of chapters will be Emma focused and we’ll even get to see her interacting with some demons. The next chapter I’ve already mapped out in my head, and I don’t think it will be pretty long so it should be up before next weekend. Then I hope to have another chapter after that one finished for next weekend.

Will, the youngest brother, is Liam II btw. Sorry I didn’t make that clearer before! Wil-Liam, get it?

How might a dead white-lighter have a child? How could Leo? How could Sam? In this case, the existence of the Charmed Ones/their destiny surpasses the laws of supernatural physics. The universe just said one day, we need a third jones boyo and there you have it.

Killian is kind of a clumsy mess in this chapter, but 1) Emma throws him off his game 2) in OUAT Killian was not always some heartbreaker, especially with Emma 3) it took a LONG ASS time for Emma to open up to him. The same goes for an Emma raised by Demons.

#ouat #charmed #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #emma x killian #liam jones #liam ii jones #david nolan #charmed au #something wicca this way comes

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