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[zeondraws]

Making another post about the AMA, as a few questions couldn't be answered on the reddit post before it was closed. Some of the answers were send to the Secret Mode server instead.

So I am listing them all in this post, so I can use it for the wiki. I also asked a few additional questions about Alex, (for example, we were confused if we had two Alex on the rig because of the Alex P. signature. But turns out, Alex Cranstoun is the same Alex who talks to Sunil).

Lead Narrative Sagar: "His full name is Stuart Gibson"

Lead Design Jade & Lead Narrative Sagar - "Spot on, this was definitely our goal!"

Lead Narrative Sagar: "Wait, we completely agree: Billy Chamberlain is DEFINITELY very important! He's the inciting reason for Caz's presence on the Beira D to begin with! Yeah, we have a sense of what sort of person he is, and what happened that fateful evening at the pub in Glasgow. But nothing more we can share here, I'm afraid..."

Lead Narrative Sagar: "Haha! This is the first name of a very important member of the crew. Check out the answers I gave to roses-in-the-abyss and to Icy_Piglet4732"

Lead Narrative Sagar: "Thanks for asking this. It had to do with the overall arc of Mhairi's story. Mhairi, for us, works really well as a foil to Caz. She has more information, plans more, and most importantly, chooses to go into a dangerous situation. True, she doesn't know quite how dangerous it's going to be. But it's a far cry from Caz, who never expected to be running around like mad on a sinking oil rig, and is equipped just with a screwdriver. His final action is exactly what he has grown to be capable of doing. By contrast, no one asked Mhairi to go to the bottom of the North Sea and disturb what was there. She chose to. The most straightforward thing to do, narratively, is to make her pay for that choice, maybe with the ultimate sacrifice. But we wanted to reflect the greater agency Mhairi has a character to do a bit more, and ask the player what they think makes sense for their version of Mhairi. After all, even the game itself opens up a bit more: your version of Mhairi might be more exploratory and less resolute than another, or vice versa. We don't branch very widely in this story, just at the end, so it's not too hard to keep the various realities in our heads simultaneously. It would be a different design challenge if the game were built around branching. Thanks for your question!" Lead Design Jade: "On SWTD we wanted to tell a story about a person who was always running finally deciding to do what's right for his family. A choice would have not given the experience we wanted. But Mhairi has a choice because I think we all deal with grief in a different way. When someone dies you can feel guilty about letting go of that sadness because it feels scary when you built yourself around it. Ultimately you can either let it consume you or let it go and I love that we managed to talk about it in such a way. I think in our mind both ending are open enough that we can do different things with them if we decide to."

Who is Alex/what is his backstory, and what's his surname? (Lo-Honko is my reddit name)

From Sagar: Lo-Honko's questions were quite fun to respond to. But this specific question (the 5th) was ambiguous. There isn't just one body in those two locations: there are two, one in each named spot. In my answer, I only responded to what I thought was being referred to in the second one, later on in the pipe maze, the body with the lighter. But let me expand on both bodies, because I think the first at least has some cool implications about events we never get to see. Once you're down at 237 metres, you get into Mud Pits. (That's the "giant room, split by a fence", as Rob says.) If you make your way through a pipe at the top of the room, you can snake your way into a smaller room, called Mud Handling. That's the one that has a dartboard and also something that looks like a body, buried under some rubble... but also bizarrely with a seeming cross / grave marker? Now that is a weird and confusing thing... is it a legit grave marker? What the hell? This is actually one of the oddest things Mhairi has found to date. It's what leads her, uncharacteristically, to trip over her words. "I-I don't know... body," Mhairi says. Because she can see something Rob can't. It's not just a body. It's a body with debris that seems to have fallen (or been placed!) in the shape of a grave marker. Who would have done that? Presumably the collapse of the rig was an emergency. Who would've had the time, and if they did, why do it in that location? Doesn't seem to be someone in their right mind, and moreover, it'd have to be someone (or some thing) that could have survived such an emergency, present in Engineering and full of confused emotions. --------------------------

The second body (the one holding the lighter in the pipe maze) after you listen to the second data logger recording is Alex Cranstoun. I expanded on this in the AMA and how he got ahold of Finlay's lighter. Alex worked hard on the rig, and he was seen in the first game working with Sunil. He works on the Deck and is always fixing something or trying to keep the rig from falling apart. We get a hint way back when Mhairi discovers the Ganpati murti of just how heavily Sunil's loss was felt, but we don't discover too much about Alex. In fact, Mhairi's quite confused by this body too, even about how it possibly has arrived into the vent. How horrific, if this person died, trapped in the vent. Alex was no less loved by his mates. He was a particularly close co-worker with Sunil. In fact, we see the two of them talking together very early in Still Wakes the Deep. Work on a rig can be very uncompromising and very busy. But there can also be a lot of dead time. You have to make your own entertainment. Sunil, Alex, Archie, and Gregor would sometimes have competitions around who could grow the most luxurious facial hair. Let's just say that Alex did not win this competition... He was determined to get his revenge on Sunil during the darts tournament, and even this did not go his way. Though as a consolation, Alex did manage to win Finlay's lighter off her late in the darts tournament, after everyone was deep in their cups. When the disaster began, and the leccy went out, that lighter was what Alex used to navigate for a little bit while he was running for safety. But it barely lasted a few minutes, before plunging him into darkness. And as the rig listed, Alex tragically tripped and fell into a vent, a slow and tragic end for someone who deserved better.

And for context, this was Lo-Honko's question from the AMA.

"Does the guy from the vents and mudpits have a name? Who is this person Finlay lend her lighter to?"

-

-

Thanks to Liam from Secret Mode for forwarding the Alex questions!!

This is super interesting, this is gonna take a while to put into the wiki. But today I am editing Alex and Archie (I deleted the Cranstoun page and will delete the Dunbar page later, don't touch it!)

I find it important to have sources because some people will think you lie and edit something and claim it's a headcanon. I had to re-edit a page because someone claimed the father-son relationship between Muir and Innes was a headcanon (because of the new memento). I think the person means no harm, but I figured I mention this.

Double check before you edit something, because if you don't have a source for example, you may spread wrong information.

[your-local-hellclock]

<Ohhhhhh. I should not use the mass post editor. Ah. Okie dokie.>

[dammit-tazmuir]

For all the things this fandom refuses to believe and chalks up to John's lies, the thing that baffles me to see so many believe without question is the idea of Perfect Lyctorhood.

Guys. Guys, there is no Perfect Lyctorhood.

Or at best, if there hypothetically could be, it's nothing we've ever seen. Paul is the closest thing and I know a lot of you would not consider Paul perfect. John did not achieve Perfect Lyctorhood, and it wasn't even his idea to claim he did. A quarter of NtN extensively details that he didn't.

The old Lyctors didn't know what Alecto was. John definitely told them more than he would have liked to, because of course she doesn't lie and is too obviously inhuman to hide it fully. But if they knew everything, Mercy wouldn't doubt that Alecto ever had a genetic code; she would know she didn't, or that any genes she might've had were made from John's own blood and bone.

Because they didn't know what she actually was or what actually happened (foreshadowed too by Mercy's "if you had lied about anything else" lines, when actually he did), they drew the wrong conclusion. They assumed something different in his process allowed Alecto to persist. But we now know the truth is that Alecto was simply too big to consume. She didn't die because she was already limitless. This will never apply to another human. But he lets them believe their conclusion because he thinks it's better and easier to talk his way out of than them figuring out the real truth.

It does remain possible that Anastasia and Samael were genuinely on the cusp of that breakthrough, but I honestly doubt it. That was another conclusion drawn by the Lyctors as a follow-up to the previous wrong one, and when John answers, he visibly hesitates. It feels like he's once again going, "....Sssure, yes, let's go with that." I don't know what Samael and Anastasia WERE on the verge of. Maybe they would have become gestalt like Paul, and the possibility of just one dying was why Pal begged Cam "don't look back", and John was afraid of the power they'd achieve (could Paul have greater thalergy than a normal Lyctor?) and/or of just the others seeing a different process and getting mad at him.

AND/OR, ACTUALLY? Especially if their attempt was one of the earlier ones (around the middle rather than the end), but even if it wasn't: I think a Paul situation has a STRONG possibility of being exactly what happened. John's most outright lies are usually the ones other people tell that he just nods along with. When it's from himself, if it's not feigned incompetence, he usually goes for half-truths and misleading truths. He says Anastasia panicked halfway through and if he hadn't stepped in they would have both died. I think it's very possible that John panicked halfway through as he realized what they were doing, and that it's genuinely true they would have both died— in the same way Camilla and Palamedes both died, to create someone new.

And we know how much John hates change. How desperately John needs to keep his specific people close. What are the odds he was so afraid of losing both of them and being left with a new person he didn't know, couldn't predict, and couldn't easily control with them having a whole Lyctor's power and maybe more? Especially if Cyth and Loveday, Cassy and Nigella, Cyrus and Valancy, Ulysses and Titania, maybe even G1deon and Pyrrha— if any others hadn't undergone the process yet, and there was a chance they'd see Samastastia and decide that was the path they wanted too. If he thought this meant he might lose all his friends instead of only the less favored half.

Either way, though, based on everything we know, there is no simple soul swap that results in dual immortality. Even John and Alecto involve a fusion of megasoul. "You and she are one." (This is also likely how a seemingly real facet of John could talk to Harrow in Alecto's dream.) And we've seen through NtN, the soul longs for the body. The body longs for the soul. A body housing a different soul doesn't last long, even when those souls ARE semi connected. A body even temporarily renting space to a foreign soul is a massive strain, like Cam carrying Pal.

Lyctorhood inherently involves death and consumption and acting against nature. It is the indelible sin. It's possible that Grand Lysis avoids that sin by making it about mutual death, about giving instead of taking, but it's still bittersweet at best. I highly doubt we're going to see a perfect solution that fixes everything, at least via more necromancy, because that's not the kind of series this is. It's messy, beautiful in its flaws, embracing the understanding that life is change and things can never be exactly as they were, and can rarely be exactly what you want, and letting go and moving on are necessary parts of life eventually.

Don't misunderstand! I do think Gideon will either be resurrected (perhaps the last true one ever) or there will be another way for her and Harrow to happily be together. In Gideon's case, there was nothing natural about her death, and the decision to say "no" is a rejection of the system that led to it.

I just also think the odds of rewriting the laws of life and death entirely are more likely than Lyctorhood But With No Consequences. It always has consequences. There is no Perfect Lyctorhood, but there's something good on the horizon, whatever form it takes. After all...

"There are more worlds than this. Come with us. We are the love that is perfected by death, but even death will be no more. Death can also die. There's still time, Ianthe. Time for you and for Naberius Tern."

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hello, I've always been a huge fan of your writing and especially how you write heroes and villains! If it's not too much trouble, I was wondering if you could write the villain putting the hero into an enchanted sleep rather than fight them, sort of an 'it's for your own good' sort of thing.

Thank you if you do, and even if you do, thank you for all the wonderful writing over the years!

"The world is a harsh place, my doveling," said the evil queen. "It will hurt you and break you and ruin you. I would spare you that."

"That's not the world," the princess said. "That's just you."

"But the world is mine, and so it is the same thing." The queen lowered the princess's body gently to the lush meadow, cradling her close, for once despite the dirt coating her fine skirts. "And my world is not a fit place for the likes of you. You have proven that time and time again, with your tears and your sorrow and your ever bleeding heart. You should have stayed away."

"No. No!"

It already sounded embarrassing when it left her mouth. Slurred, so quickly, as the remaining strength drained from her. It was nothing like what she had planned. Nothing like how the world being too cruel for the tender-hearted should mean making the world a gentler place, not a colder one. Nothing about how they could be better.

Didn't the queen see? Why couldn't she ever seem to see?

How could someone who spent all their time looking at mirrors be so blind?

"You're wrong," the princess managed. "You've always been wrong."

"Oh, shh." The queen brushed a tear away from the princess's cheek, cupping her cheek, tilting the princess's lolling head to the light like she was examining something precious. "Just rest, now. You do not want to fight me, and you could never have won, so let me give you some peace. You are a sweet little thing, so go sweetly."

The princess wanted to say that just because she didn't want to hurt the queen didn't mean that she didn't want to fight. Of course she wanted to fight. They both knew she wanted to fight. That, at least, the queen could see. The knowledge gleamed in her diamond-hard eyes.

The princess glared.

The queen huffed. In an instant, her touch turned clawed, one set of nails piercing into unmarked skin like she could brand it.

"You know, you really should be grateful," she said. "Honestly. A less benevolent queen might have killed you. Plucked the flower of your youth just blooming in jealousy! This is for your own good. I will have you just as you are, perfect and sleeping and untouched by life's hardships. You have no idea how lucky you are."

The princess's breath hitched in pain.

The queen's temper died as quickly as it always came. She released a breath. Her touch turned back to a caress, stroking the princess's hair back perfect from her face.

"You know I can appreciate lovely things," the queen continued. "I always have. And you...oh you..."

The princess wanted to flinch away from the queen's cool and possessive touch, but her body would no longer move and her eyes felt unbearably heavy. Every second was a greater struggle to keep them open. The spell that bound her was not a soft, pretty thing like the queen had pretended to be. It was as firm as the hold of any self-respecting snake about to devour its prey.

Still, the princess fought it. As hard as she'd ever fought anything.

A strand of hair slipped free of the queen's grasp, curling messy over her face. Her cheeks flushed with the strain.

"Don't do this," the princess whispered. "Don't do this to me, please."

For a heartbeat, the queen looked almost human, almost like she meant it, and regretted that it all had to turn out how it had. Then, the moment was gone, and the queen's face was smooth because - as she always told the princess - emotions gave one frown lines.

"Don't be silly. Rest," the queen said, her voice brooking no more argument. She tucked the hair back behind the princess's ear. "I will not destroy you. And you are not so unkind as to make me do that. So, there. It is done, my doveling. I have saved you."

You are destroying me.

It came out a broken little wheeze. It sounded too peaceful, by far, compared to the maelstrom in the princess's chest.

"You always were stubborn."

The queen leaned down to bestow a kiss to the princess's forehead. She dragged her fingers over the princess's eyes while she was still glaring. Her magic tugged at the rest; mind and body and soul.

The world was black.

The queen's hands were everywhere.

There was only her, her, her.

Then, there was only dreaming.

[ablobwhowrites]

I saw your post about the Poppy playtime: New Home Sweet Home Au and I really like the concept!

Since the release of Ch4 I wanted to request… how would the 17 toys react to seeing the doctor, Harvey Sawyer now in a robot (like in the fan arts) just showing up at the door when Reader goes to open the door.

I can imagine the chaos that would happen.

Especially when the doctor simply requests to live at the house with them.

(thanks for liking the au. Hopefully I can keep cooking with this one. Might make more I don't know)

The doctor forced to live in the garage or something like that.

When y/n opened the door they just kinda froze up looking up at the doctor a doey who was coming out of the living room just quietly ran back in the living where most of the smiling critters where and he just whisper yells that the actual doctor is here and everyone freaks out quietly. Cause like they would be all scared out of their minds because what do you mean the doctor of out side and at the literal door.

Doey immediately plans to protect everyone. He did it at the safe haven, he can do it again. The smiling critters well panic but dog day is the same as doey wanting to try and protect the house and the other toys inside. As most of the toys are afraid of the doctor cause like how the fuck is that guy alive and if he's out than what about the prototype? But it's almost impossible for the prototype to escape cause limitations.

And doey quietly trying to reach out to grab y/n and close the door but it's to risky as they don't want to make their presence known. As they are scared that the doctor will kill them after everything especially trying to kill him as I like he's was the main reason that most of them exist especially that he contributed to making the toys alive and was the head scientist and worked with the prototype. But y/n reluctantly let's him in but just because it's the morning and they don't want the neighbors to see him. Y/n makes a deal that the doctor can live here but the toys can decide where he sleeps and thats ends up to be the garage or attic or any of the rooms that is away from the other toys and y/n and the doctor if fine with that but y/n wants to give him a second chance but doey doesn't. He just wants the doctor away from everyone else and no where near them or y/n.

Harley kinda just had a bed, blanket and a bookshelf as the room he stays in is mainly a spare room and less used guest room. But y/n tries to be nice and put up some posters and some plushies and books in his room but Harvey kinda keeps it bare and does read the books while in his room. Even though the toys don't trust y/n being around the doctor and at least mommy long legs or one of the toys go up with y/n to make sure Harley doesn't try anything funny but mostly Harley doesn't come out of the room. Only at night to take some things to tinker with them (mostly y/n's stuff) but returns it after tinkering with it (he is a control freak. As he realizes he has no power now and isn't able to see everything around him) he does try to be "nice" as he does want a place to live but he's weak and feels vulnerable, having to take refuge in y/n's house and he wonders if he could take you back with him to the factory or to find a something more have you in his grasp (he very much Is delighted by you and your abilities back at the factory and wonders if he could perhaps make you into something greater but doey and the rest of the toys ain't letting that happen if he even tries it) plus picky piggy isn't allowed in the kitchen at night anymore cause she literally had eaten almost all the groceries so now theres a lock on it that stays on until morning.

(that's it for my yap session, I glad you guys like my little silly au. But if you want more please don't feel shy to request any ideas for this or any other fics or stories. Please stay safe and drink water!)

[ephemeralinstance]

taking out the complexity

I have this hypothesis that at some point quite late in the writing process of Veilguard someone came in and pushed for the moral complexity to be taken out of the game. Because there are several plot lines which seem like they were potentially intended to be more complex than they ultimately were:

Isseya and the griffons. When I first played this I assumed that the punchline would be that she stole the griffons because she didn't trust the wardens with them after what happened - then deciding what to do about her would have raised interesting questions about war, sacrifice, the greater good etc. But instead there was this reveal that she was planning on blighting them, which makes no sense at all and feels shoe-horned in just to make it clear that she is Evil and Wrong.

Ivenci feels to me like they were originally intended to articulate the very reasonable point that it's not good for Antiva to be ruled by a group of unelected assassins - thus setting up an interesting chance to reflect on the nature of the Crows and the necessity of working with groups who do harmful things. But instead the Crows have to be the good guys so Ivenci is made into this weirdly cartoonish villain to make it clear that they are Evil and Wrong.

Relatedly, Lucanis' plot line feels like it was supposed to culminate with a reflection on his relationship with the Crows and the abuse he suffered, probably with the option to turn down being the First Talon and maybe even leave the Crows. But because the Crows have become the good guys this never happens and hence his whole arc feels quite inconclusive.

As this post points out, it feels like Emmrich's lich choice was intended to be darker and for the lich route to be genuinely a selfish option, but instead it's become this somewhat toothless 'dilemma' where both options are right and you never have to feel bad about your decision.

The initial ritual feels like it was a set-up for Rook to unintentionally do terrible harm while trying to stop the world from being destroyed, thus offering the opportunity to reflect on the dilemma that Solas faced in making the Veil and to understand the moral complexity of his situation. There is apparently even cut dialogue from the regret prison on this topic. But instead no one ever blames Rook and Rook is not allowed to blame themself at all, because they have to be The Hero in an uncomplicated way.

I don't know; it just seems to me that there are all these fossils of a more interesting game in there and they've been sort of clumsily written-over because some exec etc wanted the game to be less challenging or targeted at a younger audience or something.

[cup-o-stars]

Relativity Falls Lore Concept- The Oracle and Bill

The Oracle:

I was initially inspired by the Twitter user @SUwu159's depiction of the Oracle in their take on Relativity Falls, and made my own adaptation as I learned about her in canon.

(Assume she can change colors because I couldn't pick what I liked most)

This version of The Oracle isn't malicious per se, and does not desire the same conquest or chaos sought out by Bill. But she likes universes to be organized and quaint (or answers to another high power that demands it), and finds fulfillment in achieving these goals through any means necessary.

The Oracle and Dipper:

(Sorry if this dialogue tastes like a corndog in your mouth. I just needed to write a semi-resolution to Dipper's side of the relationship, ha.)

Getting into the real struggle with the Pines family. Dipper and Mabel don't fight and hold grudges like the Stans (that we've seen of), so my opinion is that they drifted apart in their late teens and twenties, both feeling pressured to be less attached at the hip. My current belief (though I'm very willing to rewrite this section) is that Mabel and Dipper both poured a lot of energy into pretty niche fields, and being very busy meant very short and rare windows to reach out. Both assumed the other was doing bigger and better things and felt self conscious / childish for wanting eachother's company.

I'm still considering Mabel's backstory, since I think she probably hit lower points than Dipper. You know. Starving artist, lol. But Dipper entered into paranormal investigation, pest control, etc. before his ghost + monster catching went far enough for his name to gain some notoriety. Hell, maybe Pacifica's family reached out to him to take care of "rats" that were actually ghosts, cementing his interest in Gravity Falls and giving him a window inter supernatural work.

Dipper was taken on as something of an apprentice to the Oracle 30ish years before canon as word of his good and dangerous deeds spread. However, what was at first a personal dream come true (saving lives with nerd magic) soon became a personal hell as the Oracle began to overwhelm Dipper with knowledge of various futures and universes where everything he cared about could be destroyed. He's always been over prepared and incredibly paranoid, and became obsessed with protecting the world by acting as a partner to the Oracle.

He ends up doing- or not doing- a lot of morally ambiguous things and gaining a lot of enemies. He is too ashamed to face his family- especially Mabel- with what he's done and burden them, giving the Oracle more to use against him to keep him working for her. Basically "you've already done all this and risked it all, there's nowhere to go if you stop now." Eventually this ends in her seeing him fit for her work and convincing him to hide out in and save other universes, which he gets trapped doing for the next three decades.

Little throw away idea: Pacifica could have been an investor or partner, but left as they uncovered secrets about the Northwest family. Maybe she wanted to undo something (debating making any of the Oracle's powers time related just because I hate time travel) or stop a current show of corruption, but Dipper had to stop her for the "greater good."

In the main universe, Mabel goes to Gravity Falls upon news of her brother's disappearance, searching for any loose end to trace back to him.

I love that in canon, Dipper is willing to do anything for Mabel, and Mabel gives it back. Dipper here spends all of his life keeping as many versions of her as safe as he can, and she spends all her life trying go seek him out- maybe even dropping a larger opportunity outside of Gravity Falls for her art and settling on business at the shack. Dipper wants Mabel alive, Mabel wants them both happy. I like the idea that it's Dipper and Mable vs. The Future but the future is a demon, alien thing.

Which leads me to...

Bill Cipher:

I'm actually gonna cover a couple versions of Bill I think are fitting for this AU, because I initially wasn't sure if I wanted him here at all.

Child Bill:

Pretty straight forward. Bill as a baby, child thing is tempting and this is the au where he'd exist. Personally though, I think Ford's friendship with Fidds would be more enriching to his growth, and Bill's personality is so close to Stan's they would likely be competing to fill very similiar roles. (If Bill behaves differenty as kid, I don't know about it.) Honestly, Bill is super similiar to Ford and Stan, and works better as a kind of foil or antagonist because of that (imo). I do find the mental image of Ford carrying Bill around funny. I do not enjoy human bill like, conceptually, so I'm probably never gonna design one as an adult or child, lol.

It would be cool to see a world where Bill didn't accidentally kill his parents though.

Bill - Reincarnated Original

Technically I guess they could all be reincarneted (especially baby Bill), but this version of Bill experienced and holds memories of the original canon events in GF. Beings like Bill and the Oracle can remember recent/soon approaching lives, and catch glimpses of more distant cycles as well.

What I like about Bill's recent role as an antagonist to Ford and Stan is that he constantly describes them in the terms of their worst traits, and sees them through the lens of the roles the world placed on them. In this AU, Bill is the epitome of the past (in this case a past life) coming back to bite the twins. He rattles their progress in communication as well as their sense of inner peace by bringing old Glass Shard Beach issues into Gravity Falls.

(Depicted here-> moments after Ford summons Bill using the same ritual as Gideon.)

The drawback to this is that it feels a lot like covering old ground.

Simply Bill:

This is pretty much just regular old Bill with the same fresh perspective as everyone else, and also the one I'm going with. He tried and failed to get Dipper's trust in the past and had to lay low at the arrival of the Oracle. Once they left, Bill targeted Mabel. I think it could be very interesting for Mabel and Bill to either have a fresh relationship wherein Bill is actively taking advantage of her desperation to find Dipper, or for Bill to be an old betrayal (not romantic, but not dissimilar to the opportunistic exes Stan and Ford have to be wary of and beat back under the rug regardless).

Either he shows himself to Mable early on, or decides that Gravity Falls is both Oracle-free and worth the time after either Ford or Mable summon him. Afterall, 30 years isn't much to him.

Maybe he exists in the background like he's always done, or the kids (being snoopy and disrespectful of Mabel's secrets) discover what Mabel's doing and run into him on their own.

Whether Bill is aware of the original series or not, I think he could be neat to stick in between Stan and Ford again for conflict. My favorite aspect about Relativity Falls is the prospects of the Stans having a larger support system and better tools to help themselves with. Beating Bill faster and better would be the ultimate testament to Mabel and Dipper's skills as functioning role models, even if Mabel is currently blinded by her focus on Dipper.

Stan and Ford will fight and they will make up, but this time maybe they can overcome it on their own.

I also think a good idea is having Ford and Stan's issues be completely Bill free (outside of like an episode or two's worth of relevance, unless he put them into a particularly stinging situation). It would feel fresher and also streamline the plot, lol.

Overview:

- Dipper is stuck travelling the multiverse with the Oracle and keeps himself sane by thinking of Mabel and protecting various versions of her.

- Mabel is investigating his disappearance in Gravity Falls and is working on a portal/portal equivalent with Bill to bring him back.

- The kids may or may not be aware of this.

Looking at the main series of events, I think it'd be neat go back to the apprenticeship conflict, where Ford could be approached by the Oracle (or something else that makes sense) with the promise of being a "hero," but knows better now because of Dipper and his experiences with Bill. It's kind of a more convoluted version of Ford's proposal to Dipper in canon, and they basically learn the same thing, lol. You can hang out with ghosts if you want, but demons are gonna get you. Maybe being a child with siblings is all you need.

(Stan could also be offered this, given the Oracle already knew he- or at least someone with his face- would beat Bill, but I think it's well established he isn't very interested in doing anything without family.)

All in all, things might be a bit crowded with two antagonists. But I do like the concept of Bill's arrival and subsequent chaos triggering Dipper and the Oracle's return to Mabel's dimension. I also love the idea of Bill, the Oracle, and some secret third thing all trying to pull the Pines family apart, and it's like a Man vs. God turned into a Family vs. Destiny thing, idk. Just trying to make it feel bigger.

Thank you for reading all this. It was a lot to draw. Next time I do anything for Relativity Falls, I'm gonna go back to the smaller things like Mabel bonding with the kids and stuff like that.

[kristified]

Facade (Yandere!Phainon x Reader)

Okhema is a massive city. Even before thousands of refugees came from destroyed villages and razed towns, it has been the shining star in Amphoreus. It is the city where the sun never sets, and where the Dressmaker demigod keeps unceasing watch on all who live in her domain. Golden threads, too small for the naked eye, alert her of all things, no matter how inconsequential.

That last fact has paralyzed you for the greater half of a year.

You shift the basket in your arms, half-heartedly haggling with a local seller over the prices of pomegranates. He insists that you will see no better fruits than the ones you are holding in your hand. On autopilot, you mutter that the vendor just two stalls down claimed the same thing, and are cheaper by at least three coins.

It doesn't really matter, though. You're just going through the motions of daily life, desperate to retain some sort of normalcy after you found out...that. That innocent-looking diary full of obsession and insanity.

Even now, under the sweltering heat of Amphoreus's sun and in the midst of a bustling market, you break out into a cold sweat. Despite being surrounded by people, you have never been more certain of anything - you are being watched.

A gossamer-fine golden thread is tangled in the vendor's hair. Upon closer inspection, you see similar threads everywhere. There is one barely touching the shoulder of your chiton, weightless. Another delicately glances off a woman brushing past you, no doubt on her way to finish her daily shopping. There are hundreds of thousands of them, maybe even millions. The sheer scale of Aglaea’s surveillance makes you light-headed.

Look - there's one wrapped around your pinky now. 

You follow this last thread with dull eyes. It's difficult to see such a fine string in the daytime, but you dutifully track it across the road, twisted around a signpost, and then--

Vaguely, you remember a fuzzy memory of curling up in your mother's lap while she regales you with an old book of fairytales. You don't recall exactly how old you were, but you must have been less than six years because you were still small enough to fit comfortably while your mother rocked gently back and forth, in her creaky rocking chair. 

She speaks of an old legend about how soulmates are connected by a red string, visible only to them. Some people go their entire lives without knowing their destined pair, while others are brought together by the Fates. Every single couple ends up living “happily ever after” in this story.

You think it's all very silly and in good fun. You are too young to understand concepts like romance and lovers, but you are warm and comfortable and content in your mother's embrace. "The red strings connect two people by their fingers, and if you follow it, you'll find the one who will complete you, darling," your mother sighs happily.

 "You'll be together forever. Isn't that a wonderful thing?"

Scrunching up your face, you make a noise of confusion. "But mama, what if someone never gets a red string? Or what if you get a red string and your soulmate is someone yucky - like...like Octavius??" 

A brief memory of an obnoxious red-haired boy who lives in your neighborhood pops up in your memory, a real brat who keeps tripping you and pulling at your hair. What if you got stuck with someone you can't stand? What if you get

(trapped)something you're not ready for?

Someone bumps into you, snapping you back to the present. The old memory hurts, as expected - any memory you have of your mother is painful and bittersweet, but with the more time that passes since her death, the hurt becomes duller - like a day-old bruise. The bright agony of grief has faded, but grief in itself remains all the same.

Your eyes fall upon the person who holds the tether to your string.  Catching your eye, he sends you a small wave and a knowing smile before turning back to the crown prince.

Of course, it’s Phainon. The white knight of Okhema.

The Deliverer.

(You cannot escape. Ever since he went to Aglaea and expressed his wishes to keep you safe, there is no place where the Chrysos Heirs’ eyes cannot find you.)

(And they have all agreed, that it is best to keep their dearly wonderful perfect Deliverer happy, to pacify him and let him have you, because he is Okhema’s greatest warrior and a beacon of hope, so what does it matter if one lonely citizen is upset? You have no family, no friends, no real connections other than Phainon - dubious as that is. You both have already lost everything once, so is it not logical, they must think, to pair these poor souls together? Is this not mercy?)

(You are the only thing keeping Phainon’s sanity intact. The Chrysos Heirs will not allow anything to shatter his perfect delusions.)

(The golden thread around your finger burns.)

I figured I'd try my hand at a yandere series, I'm a huge fan of all the great content out there! This specific reader was inspired by one of my friend's (@porcelainbirdss) works below. I expanded on it with permission.

Updates are kind of sporadic due to work. This is a passion project, so I'll see where it goes!

[thewertsearch]

You produce your most spirited LAD SCRAMBLE yet, and hop up to the next GOD TIER, achieving the illustrious REVENGE OF DOCTOR RAGNAROK. All of your vitals go completely bonkers. Your MAN GRIT is off the charts. You're embarrassed for us to even know what it is. It's that gaudy.

Remember when I described the God Tiers as 'less silly' than the Echeladder's levels?

...yeah. I should have known that wasn't going to last long.

You put forth your best LASS SCAMPER of all time, and clear another sweet GOD TIER, the nigh-unattainable SAYONARA KANSAS.

For Jade, these tiers are essentially meaningless now. She's the First Guardian of Earth, and wields powers far greater than the paltry parlor tricks of an ascended Sburb Player.

Jade's not a God Tier - She's a god.

Nobody should ever mess with you. Not even me.

And Hussie knows it.

You don't get boondollars anymore. That shit is for babies now. Instead, you are finally ready to have your first ACHIEVEMENT BADGE sewn on to your KIDDIE CAMPER HANDYSASH! You each receive the badge GIFT OF GAB, enabling you to engage in simple, direct dialogue with others, without requiring any gimmicks to facilitate communication. You don't need to type through a chat client, or talk to a sprite, or traverse through a memory in a dream bubble, or wander around in an interactive game environment, or any of that stuff. You seriously never thought you would live to see this achievement unlocked. It almost feels like cheating.

Getting a little sick of that restriction, eh, Hussie?

Sufficiently advanced Players are allowed to break the rules of the comic, a concept which is brimming with potential. Next thing you know, they'll be picking up objects without a Sylladex, naming their children before they're thirteen, or violating the sanctity of the alpha timeline wait what was that last one

A verbal conversation, with no Pesterchum handles in sight. This really does feel like a milestone, and it's incredibly funny (and on-brand) that we needed a Prestige Class to unlock it.

Also... this is decidedly not a three-millisecond journey. Just how long are they stuck here?

JADE: im not sure! JADE: some sort of limbo dimension between the two walls i guess JADE: like a realm with unusual spatial properties we have to cross through

Jade, for her part, is not aware of the metacanonical implications of this little trip. I think it was Scratch who first told her about the Fourth Wall, and it's clear he made a few tactical omissions concerning its true nature.

JOHN: we escaped the scratch? JOHN: like, we still exist and everything? JADE: yes! JADE: we still totally exist john JOHN: ok, just making sure. JOHN: i still felt pretty existy, but you never know.

A pertinent question, considering where they are.

Technically, they might be more real than they were before, since they've left the fictional medium(!) of their reality.

JOHN: i mean, we crashed through that giant window you magically made with witch powers to escape the scratch, so we can keep existing, right? JADE: yes JADE: i didnt make it with witch powers though, i captchalogued it hours ago because karkat told me to…

Wait, but wasn't it Future Jade who told Karkat to do that?

It certainly sounds like it was - and the current, post-session Jade should already be older than any 'future' Jade who talked to Karkat during the session.

By now, Jade should know why she arranged for herself to grab the Wall - but she's acting like she only did it because Karkat told her to. Maybe I'm just misinterpreting what she's saying.

JOHN: did you at least make it huge with witch powers? JADE: i did make it huge with witch powers! JOHN: so i guess that's what witch powers do, is make things huge? JADE: they also make things small JOHN: right, like you did with all those planets. JADE: yup JADE: also JADE: witch powers can teleport things, and fling things around through space at very high velocities JADE: all sorts of stuff! JADE: but to be honest, im not sure how much of that is attributable to inheriting becs abilities…

All of it, actually.

The only thing Bec didn't do was fling an object around at a high velocity...

...until you remember he did this, which absolutely counts.

So far, nothing Jade's done has been through her God Tier abilities. She's so powerful that her status as the Witch of Space is completely, utterly superfluous.

[orcasoul]

Broken Part 2

Summary: Din is on the brink of death. The only way to save him is to remove his helmet. Surely he'll understand and forgive you... right?

Warnings: Swearing, description of injuries, angst, established relationship, use of Y/N.

Word Count: 4,564

It has been one month since Din left you as a sobbing mess on Sorgan. One month since he'd had anything resembling a good night's sleep, haunted every time he closes his eyes by the image of your devastated face and shaking frame. Please Din, please don't this! echoing on a loop in his mind. He did what needed to be done, so why can't he seem to move on? He has regained his creed, by the grace of the Living Waters, you're safe, you have friends and a new place to start over. That knowledge should be enough to to ease his conscience, so why can't he let you go?

Why does he suffer every day with crushing guilt and endless longing to see you, touch you, laugh with you? Of course he's not the only one suffering. Grogu cried for three days straight when Din told him you wouldn't be coming back. Even now Grogu seems forlorn. He's quieter than usual, not showing much interest in his toys, not constantly harassing the poor froggy's in his pond. Din tried everything he could think of to distract him, but it was futile. Grogu misses you, and in truth, so does Din. Work has been slow for the past couple of weeks, meaning once Din has dropped Grogu off at school, he's had nothing but time to ruminate on the events that led to this.

Had he been too harsh? Maybe, but although he's consumed by guilt - and a part of him wants to run to you, forgive you and hold you - he still can't see how he'll ever be able to trust you again, trust you to make difficult decisions when necessary. His heart and his mind are being pulled in two different directions. He can't take this anymore. He needs to clear his head. Getting up from the settee, he places his helmet on his head before walking out of the door to visit the one non Mandalorian friend he has on Nevarro.

The evening sun drenches Sorgan in a warm, golden hue, rays of sunlight gleaming off the krill ponds, shadows of huts and trees elongating as the sun slowly begins it's decent beyond the horizon. The evening had always been your favourite time of day on any planet. Taking time to relax and unwind after a long day was always something you'd look forward to, but not anymore. The evening heralds the approaching night, and night time is when the tears come. When the loneliness and sorrow become too much to bare and manifest in unbridled anguish and weeping. Omera has been a liferaft in a tumultuous ocean for you, allowing you to cry until you'd exhausted yourself and always ready to offer advice and support as your poured your aching heart out.

You honestly don't know what you would've done without her this past month. You'd told her everything the day Din left you in pieces and a part of you worried that she'd be disappointed in you too, but she showed nothing but understanding, adding that in a situation like that, anyone would do the same. Some nights were easier than other's to endure. Night's when your toilworn body had no choice but to succumb to sleep after spreading yourself too thin. More work meant less time to think and a greater chance of sleeping through the night.

Tonight wasn't one of those nights. The harvest had been collected and the krills had been salted and stored away, which meant for the past two days there had been a lot less work to occupy your mind. Tonight is the village festival, a chance for the community to come together and celebrate the rewards of everyone's hard work. As the orange and pink sky turned to dusk, bonfires were lit throughout the village, a signal of the beginning of the festivities. Banners and streamers hung between huts, log seats and blankets placed around each bonfire, the aromas of different delicacy's wafted from the stalls, reaching every corner of the village and the cool night air came alive with cheerful music.

Children laughed and played, people danced, friends gathered around the fires, enjoying Spotchka, everyone immersed in the exuberant atmosphere. It's moments like this that somewhat lightened your spirits, even if it is temporary. Omera sat beside you by the fire, handing you a cup of Spotchka. "Thanks," you smiled at your friend. "So, how are you enjoying your first harvest festival?" You look at Omera with a soft gaze. "It's great. I love seeing how everyone comes together. It's..." you sigh, "It's a rare thing these days."

And that's true, considering the larger, more metropolitan worlds you've visited seem to have lost all sense of community, everyone too caught up in their own lives, rushing from A to B without a second thought for their neighbours. "It is?" Omera seemed surprised by your answer, but of course she'd never left Sorgan, so this life is all she's known. "Yeah, a lot of people in the galaxy these days tend to keep to themselves, look out for number one." Omera grimaced at the thought of that kind of existence. "I'd hate to live like that." "Yeah, you're lucky here. This place is..." you look around at the heartwarming scene in front of you, one of camaraderie, belonging. "This place is special."

Omera placed a hand on your shoulder. "You mean we're lucky here. This is your home too now." Tears well up in your eyes but you blink them back and look at your feet. While you deeply appreciate what the village has done for you, this could never truly be home. Home is inside the hearts of the two people you love the most in this whole universe. A home you'll never see again. "Mama, Y/N!" Winta comes bounding over to you both, a huge grin lighting up her face. "I made these for you." She placed two little daisy crowns on both your heads.

"Thank you, sweetie. It's beautiful," Omera gushed and placed a kiss on her cheek. "Aww, thank you," you smiled softly. You've grown very fond of Winta over the past month, her happy disposition reminding you so much of Grogu. "I'll wear this proudly all night." With a giggle she turned and ran back to her friends. You watch her laughing and skipping with some of the other kids, and you feel your heart warm at the sight. Your mood quickly shifts, though, when your attention is caught by a toddler (no older than two) running into the waiting arms of his mum and dad.

Watching the sweet embrace, the joy and love so openly displayed sends a wave of pain straight through your heart. So many times Grogu had ran to you and Din like that, like you were both the centre of his universe. If you'd known that life would end, you would have held onto them both and never let go. The familiar numbness you'd been battling over the past month returns, sinking deep into your stomach. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you place your cup down and stand up. "You okay?" Omera asks. "Yeah I... I just need to clear my head. I'll be right back," you try to say casually, hoping Omera didn't notice the slight quaver in your voice.

The outskirts of the village is a little quieter, a little less overwhelming. Finding a boulder you slump down onto it, dipping your face into your hands. You inhale deeply then look up at the cosmos, wondering what Din and Grogu are doing this very moment. Are they well? Do they miss you as much as you do them? You're one hundred percent certain that Grogu misses you, but Din? Well, you can't be too sure anymore. You can't be sure of anything anymore when it comes to Din. He'd told you time and again that he loved you, but if that were true, why did he leave you instead of talking to you, instead of giving you a chance to make amends?

Maybe you'd been foolish this whole time. Maybe you loved -love- him more than he's ever loved you. Of course these thoughts had been swirling around your brain, relentlessly hounding you since that day, and you're still no closer to clarification, except for one harsh truth; that you're expendable, meaningless and not worthy of love, if the one person you'd trusted the most could just turn his back on you. A pained sob breaks free as you bury your face in your hands. In all your years nothing had ever hurt as much as this! Will this feeling lesson over time, granting you the opportunity to to learn to live with it, or will you have to face this bleak void for the rest of your life?

So lost are you in your all consuming spiral that you don't notice the screams at first. It's only when the unmistakable echos of blaster fire ring out that you leap to your feet like a startled Porg. Your immediate thoughts are for your friends. "Omera! Winta!" you scream as you run into the village. It's absolute chaos! Red streaks fly through the air, people screaming in panic as the attackers gain the upper hand. Some women run to nearby huts with their children while other's are being rounded up. The men are fighting back, but without any firearms they stand no chance. 'Winta, Omera! Where are you?!" You push through the throng of panicking people, desperately to catch sight of them amidst the mayhem. It's no use. In the dark and the rush of bodies you can't see them anywhere. "Win- arrrgh!" You hit the ground hard, a white hot burn tearing across your lower back and side. You push yourself up, gasping at the pain and, knowing there's nothing more you can do, you run.

Stumbling through the dark woods with only the moonlight to guide you, your mind tries to make sense of what just happened. Your lungs burn as you push through the woodland. You don't know where you're gong but you keep moving, until your legs can't take it anymore. A sharp pang jolts through your knees as you land on them, sweating and gasping for air. Dizziness and nausea sweep over you like a wave and you dig your fingers into the damp soil to ground yourself. As your breathing becomes less frantic, your head clears, and thats when you feel a warm wetness running down your thigh, soaking your trousers and making them stick to you.

You reach a hand around to where the pain radiates from and when you pull away, you squint at the dark, thick liquid staining your hand. The moonlight isn't bright enough to give you a clear view so you bring your hand to your nose, praying your suspicions are wrong. Your sense of smell is instantly overwhelmed by a strong metallic scent. Blood! "Fuck!" you groan quietly. I've been shot! You begin to tremble as you realise just how dire your situation has become. The sudden sounds of snapping and rustling has you jerking your head in it's direction. Voices follow the noises, telling each other to scour the woodland for any escapees. With a silent groan you force yourself to your feet and keep running.

For the past couple of days, Din has been in mental torture. His visit to Karga hadn't gone the way he'd planned. All he'd wanted was a new bounty to keep his mind off you, but instead he'd been given some harsh truths. And the more he thinks about the conversation, the more he realises what a grievous mistake he has made, his mind constantly replaying the moment he'd had some sense knocked into him.

"Mando!" Greef Karga exclaimed enthusiastically while rising from his desk. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Din clasped his friends' arm and sat down opposite him. "I'm looking for more work." "Straight to the point as usual," Karga chuckled. "I've got a few bounty pucks, but to be honest the reward is so low it probably wouldn't even cover fuel." Din sighed and sat back in the chair. "Anyway, what's the rush? Your last two jobs paid handsomely. Why not take some time off and relax?" "I don't need to relax," Din replied, curtly, his shoulders stiffening with tension. Karga raised an eyebrow at Din's clipped response. "So, uh... how's the little one doing?"

Just the mention of Grogu helped to relax Din's tense posture. "He's good," Din answered, with a hint of affection in his voice. "He's been making new friends at school." Karga smiled at that, then clasped his hands together on the desk in front of him, focusing entirely on the black T of Din's helmet. "And how are you?" Din shrugged, "I'm fine." Karga just kept his gaze, fixing Din with a questioning look. "What?" Din asked awkwardly. "You're not doing yourself any favours by bottling everything up, you know." Din shifted uncomfortably, fists clenching as Karga continued. "Sooner or later it'll all catch up with you and -" "I said I'm fine," Din snapped.

"No you're not fine, Mando! You haven't been 'fine' since you left Y/N on Sorgan. You think I haven't noticed how distracted you've been lately?" Karga sighed and lowered his tone. "The only time you seem okay is when you're around the kid, but even then, I can't help but suspect it's a front. Just go to her. You obviously miss her. Din shook his head and let out long exhale. "Of course I miss her, but it's not that simple. "Why?" Karga asked, clearly confused, "You've redeemed yourself. You have your creed-" "It's not about the creed," Din interrupted in frustration, "It's about trust. I trusted her completely."

"Mando-" karga began but Din continued, "She went against my wishes and disrespected the creed and myself, even if it was to save my life. It was a ... selfish thing she did." Karga's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "Selfish?!" "Yes! She said she couldn't lose me. She only thought about how she would feel, so yes, she was selfish." Karga pressed his lips into a thin line, shaking his head as he did so. "Mando, you're my friend so I'm going to be blunt. That's Bantha shit!!" Din jerked back at Karga's sudden outburst. "She saved your life, knowing that doing so could end with you hating her. She knew what she was risking by removing your helmet, and it wasn't just losing you, but Grogu too. She sacrificed everything so you could live, even if she could no longer be a part of your lives. That is the most selfless thing I've ever heard of."

Din is speechless. He'd been so consumed by, what he'd seen as a betrayal, that he hadn't stopped to consider what it would have really meant for you to let him die. You loved him so much that you'd risked losing everything, just for him. The sudden clarity made his stomach churn and chest tighten under the weight of such a revelation. What the hell had he done?! "I... I never thought of it like that," Din faltered as regret swept through him. "Maybe it's not too late. I'm sure you'll do the right thing," Karga smiled sincerely. Din stood quickly; he needed to get out of there, needed space to think clearly. "Thank you," Din nodded at his friend and rushed outside.

For two days Din had been obsessing over how he can fix everything, but what could he say to excuse his behaviour? Would you forgive him? He couldn't blame you if you wouldn't. He doesn't deserve it. He feels sick to his stomach knowing the pain he's put both you and Grogu through. He has to see you, even if you won't forgive him, he needs you to know how sorry he is and how much he still loves you. Din is brought out of his thoughts by the blinking of his holoprojector, a quick press of the button revealing Greef Karga's hazy image. "Mando," Karga began, "I've just received communication from Captain Carson Teva. He has a proposition for you. I need to discuss this with you in person. Can you come to the office ASAP? It's important."

Din frowned as Karga's image disappeared. He could tell from his voice that something was very wrong. Din slipped his helmet on and made his way to the office. Upon arrival, Din was met with a very somber looking Karga. This can't be good, Din surmised internally. "Thank you for coming in, Mando," Greef said, stretching out an arm for Din to sit. "You said you have work for me from Captain Teva?" Din asked as he took a seat. "Yes... uh, he's had confirmed reports that an organisation of Spice runners have taken control of a planet in a nearby system. There have also been reports of fatalities and enslavement of the local people. As the Planet is part of the Outer Rim Territories," -Din bristled at that, hoping Karga isn't going to say what he thinks he's going to say- "It's not exactly a top priority for the over stretched republic officers. That's why Captain Teva has requested the help of allies nearby. He'll pay 30,000 Galactic Credits."

"Okay..." Din replied, hesitantly, a knot forming in his stomach. Greef closed his eyes and sighed. "Mando..." he looked back up. "It happened on Sorgan. Din's heart dropped to his stomach as the words he didn't want to hear washed over him. He could barely breathe, fear and disbelief choking his airways. The room began to spin and Din had to grip the edge of the desk to steady himself. "When did this happen?" Din pressed, trying to calm his racing mind. "Two days ago, Nevarro time." Din's jaw dropped under his helmet. "Two days!" All this time you'd needed him and he knew nothing of it.

Maker knows what could have become of you in the past two days, that's if you're still- no! He can't even entertain that possibility. You're alive! You're alive and he'll come for you. "Tell Captain Teva I'm on my way!" Din spun around, ready to high tail it out of there, but then stopped abruptly. In his panic he'd completely forgotten about Grogu. Karga raised a hand, already knowing what Din was about to say. "Go. Find her. I'll get the kid from school and he can stay with me until you return." "Thank you," Din replied and ran out of the room.

You're cold, so bloody cold. The icy chill seems to be coming from inside your very bones, your entire body trembling uncontrollably, while a constant layer of sweat coats your skin. The only respite you get is when you lose consciousness. At this point, though, you're not sure what's real and what's not, how often you've woken and how often you've been dreaming becoming harder to distinguish between. After managing to stop the bleeding with a strip of your shirt, you forced yourself onwards until you came across a small cave, finally collapsing in an exhausted heap.

Time has now become meaningless. Maybe you've been here for minutes, maybe hours; there's no way to know. What you do know, even in your delirious state, is that you're in serious trouble, and if you don't get help soon... well, it's game over. Dying alone on a freezing cave floor wasn't how you ever envisioned yourself going out. Every breath is becoming difficult and every slight movement sends a burning jolt through your abdomen. Slowly, you slip back into the calm.

The fight didn't last long, if it could even be called that. Along with Captain Teva and his men and several other mercenaries, Din wasted no time in obliterating every one of those low life drug runners and freeing the villagers from bondage. Families and friends cried happy tears as they embraced each other, others crying over the loss of a loved one, and an abundance of gratitude and praise was offered up to the liberators. It was a moment of immense joy and relief. However, Din felt none of it as he scanned the crowd. Where the hell are you? he asked himself again and again. With every passing minute Din's composure threatened to shatter.

"Have you seen Y/N anywhere?!" he asked repeatedly as more and more villagers approached him to thank him, every one of them confirming they hadn't seen you. Worry and frustration began to boil within until Din felt like he was going to explode. "Mando!" a sweet little voice cried out, catching Din's attention and pulling him from his imminent spiral. Small arms wrapped around his waist and a head of dark hair nuzzled into his stomach. "Winta." Din gasped in relief, returning her embrace. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?" Winta looked up with a big grin. "I'm okay. You saved us, thank you!"

Din crouched down to Winta's level, gently holding on to her arms. "Where's your mother? Where's Y/N?" he asked, trying to remain calm. "Mama's over there," winta pointed behind her to where Omera was quickly walking through the crowd towards him. "Mando..." Omera smiled, relief swimming in her brown eyes. "What are you doing here?" "I heard what happened and I had to come. Where is she?" Omera's face dropped at Din's question, taking his heart along with it. "Omera?..." Din hesitated, almost afraid to ask again but he needed to know. "Where's Y/N?"

"I don't know," Omera shook her head while tucking Winta into her side. "I haven't seen her since the attack." Din's chest seized, Omera's confirmation that you weren't there making his stomach swirl with dread. "I can't be sure, it was dark, but I think I saw her run into the woods." A glimmer of hope! "Which way?" Omera pointed to the tree line behind him, tears building in her eyes. "Please bring her back, Mando," she sniffled. "I will," Din declared with determination, placing a reassuring hand on Omera's shoulder. "I promise!" Then Din turned, sprinting towards the forrest as fast as his legs could carry him.

It didn't take Din long to spot the tell tale signs of disturbance once he'd entered the forrest. Broken branches on bushes, flattened vegetation, and most importantly, footprints. Several different tracks criss crossed the damp soil, some human, some not. Most of the human prints where too big to be you, so Din could easily rule them out, along with the non human tracks. The tracks that caught his attention, though, were sporadic, indicating that whoever they belonged to was in a hurry, but also Physically impaired as the trail was often interrupted by signs of dragging, which could only mean the tracks' owner had stumbled multiple times in their haste to keep moving.

Din swallowed down his rising anxiety at the thought of you being injured, scared and alone. Now's not the time to fall apart. Keep it together, for her! Fortifying himself, Din pushed forward, certain he's on the right path. He engaged the heat signature function in his helmet. It would be useless to track your footsteps now, the heat in them long gone, but if you're in the vicinity, he would easily spot your body heat. Din moved in stealthy silence as he would while tracking quarries, acutely aware of his surroundings. Only this time the stakes were much higher.

Your life is in his hands now. He can't fail you; he wont! He follows the tracks for several more minutes, analysing every minute detail. Rounding the corner of a bush Din stops dead, his muscles freezing as he stares at the ground. There in a patch of dried blood is the beaded bracelet Grogu had made for you in school. He'd recognise it anywhere. His legs turn to jelly and he drops to his knees. Hand trembling he picks it up. Bile rises up his throat at the sight of your blood. It suddenly becomes all too real. This confirms it; you're hurt. You needed him and he wasn't there. Pocketing the bracelet, Din rises to his full height. "Y/N?!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, his body turning in every direction. "Y/N! Where are you?!"

He's met with nothing but the sounds of the forrest and his echoing, modulated voice. "If you can hear me, call out, please!" The last word came out as a desperate plea. Nothing. A thorough scan of the area reveals no body heat signature but you have to be close. The tracks keep going and so does Din. The more he presses on, the more blood he discovers littering the trail. So determined he'd been about finding you, that he'd didn't stop to think about what condition he'd find you in. Would you even be alive? Din shakes the abhorrent thought from his mind.

You're alive. Surely he'd have felt it in his gut if you weren't. Din has become a man possessed, his only mission now is to find you, hold you in his arms and never let any harm befall you ever again. He stalks on, following the tracks for another quarter of a mile until the trail brings him to the mouth of a small cave. This has to be it! With renewed hope, Din charges into the cave, calling your name into the chilled air.

A series of violent shivers jerk you awake, and with consciousness comes the torturous pain spreading along your side. A trickle of sunlight filters down from a hole in the cave ceiling, bathing part of the area in a warm yellow glow. You groan as everything begins to spin in your vision, shutting your eyes in an attempt to ease the nausea trying to climb up you throat. It's hopeless; you know that now. With every waking moment a little more of your strength ebbs away. Your mind wonders to Din and Grogu. Even if you never physically see them again, at least you'll die seeing them in your memories.

A wistful smile tugs at your mouth as you imagine the antics your precious boy is probably up to at this moment, but your smile slowly drops, sadness settling deep within as the image of Din -both with and without his helmet- comes to the forefront of your mind. You'll die now, without the chance to tell him one last time how much he means to you, and that even though he broke your heart, you forgive him. You hadn't even realised until now that your face is wet, tears running down the temples of your head and into your hairline behind your ears.

"Y/N? !Y/N?! Cyar'ika are you in here?!" Din's frantic voice cuts through your silent despair. It sounds strange, almost as if he's under water. So close, yet so far away. How cruel of your mind to play tricks on you now. You hear the call of your name again, closer and clearer this time. In your disorientation, you turn your head in the direction of the voice. The last thing you see before darkness swallows you again is the gleam of sunlight reflecting off a fast moving mass of silver and black.

Part 3

[muniimyg]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!jk (7) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ *nsfw*

series m.list // taglist request closed

note: i literally can't take myself seriously with this concept LOL where have my morals gone? lmk if anyone remembers classic kimi fics where smut was nonexistent HAUWHAUA 😭

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @maryy1300 @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo

//

jungkook has been looking over revisions for the past three hours. the promotion was more exciting when he worked for it... now, he feels way too overworked and honestly? for what?

the truth is, he only chased after the promotion because he knew it would be something you'd be proud of him for doing. you've always been the type to chase after things greater than yourself and wished for jungkook to do the same. well, this is it. this is jungkook doing just that for you. he hopes you can see it. he hopes you know it.

currently, he feels like his eyeballs might roll out of his head. he's bored and might lose his mind if he goes through one more slide (he has at least 200 slides left). irritated, he pushes away from his desk and stands up.

he stretches, trying to wake himself up a little more. then, he stares at the view from his office window.

the city is beautiful but he would much rather be looking at you.

suddenly, as if the angels heard him, his phone rings.

it's you.

he picks up immediately.

"hello?"

he doesn't know why, but he feels nervous. you never call. you always text or facetime... a call? what the fuck could be going on?

"hi... are you busy?" you ask, a little quiet. you sound tired.

he raises an eyebrow. "uhh... what's up? everything okay?"

a small laugh escapes your lips. "yeah. why? do i sound—"

"a little sad," he cuts you off, concerned. "___, what's wrong?"

you stay silent for a moment.

"nothing.”

he doesn’t believe you until he hears you sigh in relief.

continuing, you vent; "i just... i think i'm just stressed. i don't know. i wanted a break and suddenly i picked up my phone and called you. s-sorry. i... you're probably busy with the new promotion and—"

"i'm not that busy—"

like perfect timing, jungkook's office line interrupts. "mr. jeon, your 2pm meeting is being pushed back so you have time for lunch today."

jungkook clears his throat and thanks his assistant.

"new assistant?" you ask, letting curiosity get the best of you. "she pretty?"

"she's fired if you want."

"shut up!" you laugh. "i could care less—"

"oh, you care..." jungkook smirks. "hey, i'm glad you called. you can always call. i'm here for you when you need.. i don't want you to think anything else."

"okay.." is all you say.

jungkook takes a deep breath in. "did you eat today?"

"i ate. did you?"

"been busy—"

"you said you weren't busy!"

"hey, i'm not the lawyer!"

"still... i... listen, i'll let you go. i should probably get back to work or something—"

jungkook panics. "i'm cancelling my 2pm."

"what?"

"y-yeah... i'm looking at their revisions and i haven't even gotten through half of it. it's also shit so i'm just gonna tell them to redo everything. will i be the most hated boss? we'll find out."

on the other end of the line, you snicker.

"you can't blow off work."

"i can."

".... c-can i confess something?"

jungkook gulps, feeling sick to his stomach.

"what?"

you fidget with your fingers, unsure if you should continue.

"honey, what is it?" jungkook asks softly. "whatever it is... i'm here for you. you know that."

"i... uhm... i called because i was stressed..."

"... yeah?"

"jungkook," you pause, biting your bottom lip. is it too much to say this? at the same time... it's not like he has ever denied you anything. you might as well... "i need to relieve some stress. like, i need to focus on something that isn't work or our son. you know what i mean? everything is fine, honest! i just... i want to be focused on something and be present. i feel like i've been mindless for a hot minute... i just... look, if you're going home... is it okay if i come over? can i suck your dick or something?"

jungkook rushes home.

he changes his bedsheets and runs a quick shower. it's not like he needed to put in this much effort (it's literally the bare minimum) but it's the first time in a long time where you needed him. having sex and initiating was more so 50/50; but this was different. you need him.

he's your relief.

and also... it's a little funny, is it not? it's only 2pm on a random wednesday and you need him.

when you arrive, jungkook takes a few deep breaths before opening the door. his studio apartment is definitely smaller than your place (aka the place you two shared for 4 years), but it's okay. it's only temporary. he knows in his heart that he'll be back home with you in no time. this afternoon proves exactly that...

if today you need him for his body and tomorrow you need his heart; he'd give it.

"wow... i hate this already." you take a minute to laugh at yourself. you feel so beyond stupid and embarrassed... it's practically indescribable. though you and jungkook fool around and have always had an active sex life... right now felt different. right now felt... weird? but if it was ever going to feel weird; at least it's with him.

before you even step foot inside his place, you're turning your heel. "you know what? i should... uhm, this was stupid. sorry—"

jungkook grabs your arm and pulls you inside.

you stay still as he leans towards you face. he pokes your cheek and chuckles. "come on, honey. i said i'd be here for you. let me be here for you."

squinting at him, you move his finger off your face. "you just want your dick sucked."

"you offered," he snorts. "so pull through."

in hindsight, jungkook should've been more prepared than this.

but he isn't.

he fights to urge to spill himself all over your pretty hands every time you pump his cock. it's toe-curling the way you drag your wrist up and down. he throws his head back so much, it's beginning to get sore. leaving him with no option but to fucking watch you give him the most life changing blowjob of his life.

"are you okay?" you ask, batting your eyelashes at him. "you look stressed."

"i am stressed."

"what? why—"

"no! f-fuck, don't stop." he growls, not liking the way you suddenly stop. you purse your lips, catching on that he just feels edged out.

already?

... okay.

you continue to pump him, gripping on the base of his cock and moving your way up. his skin is so soft yet he's so hard. like... so fucking hard you know for a fact you don't want to fuck him right now. it'd hurt too much.

"you're so hard already," you utter under your breath. "and i swear to god, it's like your dick gets bigger every time i see it."

"i love you more every time i see you that's why."

"damn," you hiss. "can you... just let me do this? i wanna focus on... wanna focus on—"

"shut up."

you laugh, reaching up to place a kiss on his lips. he leans forward, gladly meeting your lips. when you pull away, you plop yourself in a more exact position in front of him. jungkook feels his balls get heavy as you kneel, part his legs, and begin to tie your hair up.

he helps you.

gathering your hair, you give him your hair tie. he quickly ties your hair before leaning back and trying to catch one last good breath.

he fails.

his breath hitches as you kiss his tip.

"w-wait—"

you don't.

you lick his length, dragging your tongue down to his base. there, you suck his balls and use your hands to pump. jungkook gulps, watching you do this. he doesn't know what to do. usually, he's really into it but there's something different about right now.

right now, he's in a trance.

he's mesmorized at how much your touch changes all the chemistry in his body. saying you send electricity throughout his body is an understatement. butterflies don't mean a damn thing either. it's captivating and everything but sweet.

it feels twisted in his stomach. it feels like he's on the edge on a cliff and the only way he can ease his fear is by jumping off.

he has to give in and let his body react to you.

he has to let you have this and from the looks of it (and feel of it); you've giving him everything you've got.

just then, you snap jungkook out of his thoughts as you attempt to take him inside your mouth. you make an effort to look up, eyes teary from holding in your gag. he's so big. there's no other way to explain it and there's no way you're going to stop thinking it.

he's so fucking big.

like what other choice do you have but to slobber all over it? you just have to. not to mention, he always tastes good. his cum, yes, but just his dick in general... is that weird? who cares.

jungkook's dick barely fits in your mouth. but you try to make it work. you want him—all of him. as you bob your head, easing your way to his full length, jungkook lets out a loud moan.

you look up and see his chest rising and falling. his abdomen twitches and so does his dick. you like the way he looks right now. as you suck, his breathing intensifies. soon, he's panting and you're near gagging.

you take a moment to catch your breath.

pulling away, your hands continue the show. jungkook brings his attention back to your hands and watches as the tip of his cock turns angry. god, it's getting bigger?

you practically drool.

jungkook leans over and wipes the access saliva around your lips. then, he shoves his thumb into your mouth. happily, you suck on it. bobbing your head, shutting your eyes, and letting out little moans; jungkook feels like he's losing his mind.

you look so fucking pretty.

when he takes his thumb out, you dive back to his dick. this time, he holds you by the back of your neck and guides you through it. jungkook pushes your head slowly but surely. then, he stops moving it. he keeps it in place as he lifts his hips and rolls them.

before you know it, he's fucking your mouth.

rolling your eyes back, jungkook moans at the sight. of course you're taking it like a slut. of course you're enjoying it too.

"you like this, huh? you like having your face fucked?" jungkook hisses in between breathy pants.

you gag in response.

jungkook pulls his dick out and slaps your mouth with it. his veiny member feels so good against your lips. you want it back in your mouth.

"answer me."

"mhmm," you whimper. "i like it so much. put it back in—mmhph—"

"fuck yes," he shoves his cock back into your mouth. "so pretty, honey. the absolute prettiest."

suddenly, he lets you go. it's then that you take the liberty to give it everything you've got.

you twirl your tongue around his tip, suck his length in every way possible. your hands pump to compliment your oral skills and jungkook can't help but think he's the luckiest man on earth.

then, it happens.

you feel his dick twitch. he instantly thrusts himself more aggressively to chase the climax. you behave and take it. then, squirts of his cum escape his tip. he cries, pulls out of your mouth, and aims at your face.

you shut your eyes, feeling his cum hit your cheeks and lips.

he lets out a moan of relief.

after a moment passes, you get up from your position and sit on his lap. wrapping your legs around him, he offers you a tired smile. then, he lifts his hands to wipe his cum off your face. opening your mouth, he gives it to you like icing.

you swallow and he feels like he might need a fucking minute.

then, you let out a little giggle when you notice how sweaty he is. you push his hair back and begin to laugh.

"w-what?" he worries. "why are you laughing at me?"

"you're sweating? as if you did any work—"

"i was literally fucking your face!"

"yeah but you're not the one that's gonna have sore cheeks for like three days or bruised knees!"

he shuts up.

you roll your eyes at him and continue to play with his hair. you feel his dick calm down under you. thank god. that fucking beast is scary when you're not in the mood...

"what time is it?" you ask, breaking the silence and breathing in the smell of sin.

jungkook shrugs. "dunno. also don't wanna move. stay like this with me."

you huff. "should i take my panties off or something?"

"why?"

"wanna cockwarm me?"

seriously...

he just might be the luckiest man on earth.

jungkook clears his throat as you straighten up your posture. "wait, i'll just put my panties to the side like this—ahh, mmhmm... y-yeah. like this.... feels good."

by now, jungkook's soft cock is inside you.

you like the feeling and so does he.

suddenly, you rest your head of his shoulder. he wraps his arms around you and holds you. kissing the side of your head, he asks; "you feeling better? relieved?"

"mhmm."

"good." jungkook tightens his lips, as he brings his hands to your hair. he runs them through and you take a deep breath in. you like the way he feels right now... so intimate.

"hey... did we talk a lot during sex?" he asks.

"don't remember."

"oh, okay..." jungkook looks around his studio apartment and suddenly feels embarrassed at how messy it is. "can i come with you to pick zion up today?"

"sure."

jungkook tightens his hold on you. you laugh and tell him it's too tight. he stops squeezing you and asks for a kiss. you give it to him. against your lips, he mummbles; "am i talking too much? i think i'm nervous or something—"

"then shut up."

"hey—"

you pull away and cup his cheeks.

"i feel your dick rising inside me. i don't have the energy for round two. either make the boner go away or i'll get off."

jungkook gulps. then, he shuts his eyes and thinks of every possible un-sexy thing ever... and it works. his dick softens again and you thank him with a kiss. jungkook takes his chance and intertwines your fingers together. you let him do so and his heart soars. something about him being inside you makes you feel so whole. there’s no denying that… and you love it, really. you love him, truly.

for a few more moments, you two stay like this.

you two are together.

[obae-me]

The Devil's Desire

Nothing like trying to come back from a long hiatus with more Luci content. It's always him, I can't escape.

Warning: This fic contains a makeout scene but nothing explicit, so 16+.

Disclaimer: I am NOT bashing religion, nor am I calling out any specific faith, denomination, etc. It's written to be mostly generic on purpose, and is simply based on a real life experience I have had before. Don't take this seriously, please.

Word Count: 2.3k

With that out of the way, please enjoy some Luci romance!:

To lie with the devil is to wake up in hell. Tender lips stained with debauchery embrace nothing but lies. Tainted is the temporary vice. Lost is the lamb who leaves the flock. Damned is the devoured; the ones drowned in their own sins, plunged into the fires, entombed in brimstone. The cries of pleasure now ones of wailing. Of gnashing their own teeth. Made to suffer an eternity of eternities for shunning the light.

At least, that’s what they say.

And by they, right now you meant the very adamant woman standing in front of you, brandishing pamphlets like they were her very own Ten Commandments. If only 'Thou Shall Not Harass Unsuspecting People on the Street' were one of them. If you had your own rules, that would make it into the top five for sure.

Unfortunately, the lady slowly singling you out from the rest of the passers-by did not share your same sentiments. She was on a mission. Her mission? You. The goal? To wear you down and pester you long enough to join whatever group she was promoting. You’d seen these things enough before to see the danger signs in advance. A clipboard so they could take your name and number. A promotion selling tickets that you’d inevitably have to use your email to register for. All in an attempt to get your information so they could track you down in a less stalker-y sort of way.

“Oh, hello, dear. How are you today?” The hunter was closing in, two teens carrying signs at her side working on sequestering you- the weaker link- away from the pack.

“I’m good, how are you?” Damn your polite force of habit! Curse you, customer service default settings!

She grinned, knowing that if she played her cards right, she could probably keep you trapped here for a while longer. She spoke, and due to the survival instinct in your brain, you were capable of tuning her out for the most part. Something something, for the greater good, something something, special soul. They never meant what they said, or even if they believed their own words, it was undermined by their intentions. You’d been in this boat before. You kept waving your hand and nodding your head, explaining to her that you were busy and had someone you were meeting.

As you stepped backwards, she approached again. “Just one minute of your time! One minute could save your soul from Lucifer’s clutches!”

Without entirely meaning to, the drop of that name made you pause. Every once and a while, you forgot that the person you had come to know so well was such a prominent- albeit infamous- figure in the human world. Although, the way he tended to be described made him seem more like a boogeyman rather than a demon capable of Armageddon, scaring children across different nations and cultures into behaving. Perhaps you should be insulted on his behalf. Perhaps you should share some of the stuff you had seen. Tales of ivory wings and the blinding glow of a fallen angel whose twisted voice now told beings to Be Afraid. With a haunting beauty so enveloping, you openly fell further into the nightmare. That being said, you almost laughed in her face, wanting to tell her that the man she was so afraid of had been fretting over what kind of coat to wear this morning. Black was classy. But blue made his eyes pop more. But red was his color. Thirty minutes he pondered over this. “I’m not all that worried about it.”

Maybe you hadn’t contained your amusement as well as you thought you did, because for some reason, a righteous fire had lit under her sandy open-toed wedges. “You should be! Whatever promises the devil gives you, it will only bring you misery in the end! He cares nothing for you! Only HE can give you the joy you seek.” Her pointer finger raised up while she gazed to the clouds like she could peer into Heaven from down here. It was hard to tell if the dramatics were more for you or her. When she glanced at you again, she appeared spooked, clutching pearl hands at the ready.

An arm snaked around your waist, a hand settling on your hip. If the touch wasn’t so familiar, you would’ve jumped. “I don’t know. I think I bring plenty of joy, wouldn’t you say, love?”

Speak of the devil, in a quite literal sense.

Relief flooded your body, the tension you’d unknowingly built in your shoulders loosening. Even posing as a human, Lucifer was intimidating. At the very least, no one bothered to approach him out of the blue. This party buff seemed to extend to you as well. This lady seemed much less interested in trying to convince you of anything now. She cleared her throat and thought about potentially leaving you one last message of warning, but the man in your company wasn’t having it. He scoffed under his breath before he gestured to some of the other sign bearers in the group, tilting his head slightly to the side.

“Strange weather today, isn’t it? You might want to help retrieve your things,” Lucifer announced. Eyebrows raised. The weather was quite nice today, albeit a little cold. Curiosity got the better of her. Just as the woman turned around, a heavy gust of wind blew over you all, making pamphlets and signs fly upwards and into the streets. Subtle. People scrambled. The lady hiked up her skirt and ran to the edge of the sidewalk. Cars screeched to a halt and honked, people stopped to gawk at the calamity, all the while, you felt yourself being tugged away.

Lucifer’s hand remained on your waist for a few minutes until he was certain the annoyance was far behind you. How much of a mess was the scene now? You turned your head to look over your shoulder, but only saw darkness as a gloved hand covered your eyes. A slight huff sounded off to your side.

“Leave it. This hesitancy of yours is what got you caught in the first place.” The hand moved from your eyes to the top of your head, making you look up at him with a twist of his fingers. “I leave you be for a few moments, and you once again find yourself tangled up in nonsense.” His narrowed eyes flitted over your form as if checking for signs of distress or injury, like the woman was a master of combat with pamphlets as her weapon of choice. Always the worrier that one. He’d have still a similar reaction if you found yourself lost in a grocery store…

A frown crossed over your face. “I did try to leave. How many times do I have to say ‘no thank you’ before someone leaves me alone?”

He tisked, his posture straightening as he fixed the scarf around your neck. The plush fabric was rubbed against your jaws. “There’s your first issue. Manners are all well and good until someone takes advantage of it. At some point, you have to drop the politeness and just say ‘no’. With your entire chest.” All of a sudden, he took two pointer fingers and manipulated your cheeks and lips to mouth some words. “N. O. Just like that. Can you say it with me? Nnnn…ooo…”

You narrowed your eyes a bit at his teasing, batting his hands away. “Knock it off, Luce…”

“Hmm. Maybe I should go get one of those eccentrics and tell them we changed our minds and—“

“No!”

“Ah, see, you are capable of it.” Someone was mighty pleased with himself. Anytime he found himself in a place where he was free from his responsibilities, he always got shockingly more playful. It would be cute if it weren’t so frustrating right now. His hand started running over your head. “Good job.”

“That’s not funny. You heard how they were talking about you… I hate listening to it.”

At your words, his teasing smile faded. Rolling his eyes, he lowered his hands. “I would much rather you save that vexation for yourself and how they treated you. All the humans in the world could despise me and I would not bat an eye.” Suddenly, his finger tapped your chin, trying to regain your full attention. “I only care what one of them thinks about me.”

Something about the sudden sappiness in public snapped you out of things. You turned a bit on your feet and started walking. “Did you check us in already?”

“I took care of it. Did you want to head in now or wander around the town a while?” His partial pout at ignoring his romanticism could almost be felt physically as he matched his pace with yours.

“I think I’ve had my fun for now.”

A hum, and his hand found your own. Clasping it, guiding you to the hotel as you both walked. It was astonishing how such a move cast a level of camouflage over you two. Suddenly, it was as if you both were a normal couple following the regular flow of foot-traffic, keeping each other warm in the crisp air with the heat of each others close proximity.

If the devil was so callous, why were his hands so tender?…

The rest of the walk was a bit of a blur. The people, buildings, spoken words, all unimportant compared to the sensation of having him near. The elevator ride jostled, giving you some more awareness to your surroundings. A short walk, a brandished key card, and he opened the door for you, the very picture of a perfect gentleman.

If the devil cared not for you, why would he bother with chivalry?

The “room” was huge, with an entire kitchen, walled off bathroom, closed off bedroom, and separate living area. This was more an apartment than a simple hotel room. The luggage was already brought inside, Lucifer’s portion already opened and put away. “Leave it to Diavolo to save you the biggest, fanciest suite in the hotel. If the tub has jets, I’m never leaving.”

“Do you expect the Avatar of Pride, the right hand to royalty, to expect anything less?”

“You’re funny if you think Diavolo wouldn’t give you something like this regardless of your gilded titles. Careful, your sin is showing.” You rolled your eyes and gave him a playful nudge.

He swiveled on his feet and poked your ribs. “You dare push me?” His voice rumbled in amusement deep in his chest. “Rather bold to do to such a dangerous demon.”

“Oh? Is that a threat? Going to take my soul? Well, you’re going to have to get through me first.” Fake punches flew through the air, striking at his chest and face with no force. Although you knew real punches would have the same utterly useless, painless outcome for him.

The world tilted, some of the air leaving your lungs in a giggling gasp as he scooped you up over his shoulder. He twisted, spinning around occasionally to leave you somewhat disoriented until you were plopped down on top of the bed, the whole mattress bobbing. Lucifer hovered over you. “You cannot hope to win, human. You’re mine now.”

Something in your chest fluttered at that. “So you win then, is it? How would you like my soul? Grilled? Blended? Braised?”

One of his hands worked on removing the scarf from around your neck, the back of his index finger tracing the outline of your chin. Just a breath away from being in contact. “Let me see…” Adjusting, rubbing his nose against yours, he waited for that tell-tale sign of permission, of you closing some of the distance. Temptation struck you, flooding in your heart. The plunge was too alluring. You bit of the fruit, and the devil wrapped his clutches around you.

Watch out for the schemes of the devil, who prowls like a beast, waiting for the moment to strike and devour- lips whispering inner desires. Raise up your guard to save yourself from being pulled into darkness, into his embrace, limbs aching and craving. For his claws shall tear and shred in eagerness, unable to contain themselves as they remove the body of protective vestments. He will take the very breath from your lungs. Crush the bones with a heaving chest. Partake of your flesh.

Lucifer raised his head for a moment, letting you both catch your breath. Your thumb traced his bottom lip, puffy and scarlet where you’d nipped it. Red was always a good color for him. That’s why you picked the crimson coat for him today. It matched his cheeks, the end of his ears, his longing eyes.

“Authentically,” he said, answering your question you felt you asked two lifetimes ago. His mouth covered yours as his broad hands squeezed your shoulders. “Slowly…” You could almost feel his hum in the back of your throat as he spoke between kisses. “Bit by bit…” His teeth grazed you top lip. “Over the course of a lifetime…” His affection moved on, venturing out and exploring your cheeks and gently over your eyelids. “So you’ll be right here with me… exactly like this… for a very-“ a searing mark was placed right under your earlobe, against a tingling part of your neck, “…very long time.”

To lie with the devil is to wake up wrapped up in braids of limb and cloth. Tender lips stained with last night’s embrace whisper saccharine words. Cherished is the temporary stillness. Beloved is the lamb who measures the meter of the heartbeat of the wolf. Blessed is the enamored; the ones drowned in their own affection, plunged into the fires of passion, entombed in each other’s chests. The cries of pleasure echoed with ones of mirth. Of declarations and vows held tight between their own teeth. Made to persist an eternity of eternities for existing as the other’s light.

For it's his desire.

[frostgears]

patience

She'd stayed late, and somehow gotten into an argument with the strangest specimen in their laboratory. It had started with a simple "Good news!" How could it have gone downhill so fast?

"—then you don't truly understand me at all. You see me as a human spirit trapped in a mechanical construct. A doll's body, imposing a doll's way of being on me. You think to enact a rescue."

"We'd thought about it, yes, at least around the intermagic disciplines table in the tavern at nights… but I'm so sorry, we still don't understand how your body works. It could be years or decades or even generations before—"

"Before you can rescue me."

"Well, yes!"

"Did you ever stop to ask if I needed it?"

The researcher wagged a finger at the doll construct, opened her mouth to speak, and lost her train of thought under the unblinking inhuman stare of two orbs of polished obsidian.

"Let me ask you something. Have you ever wondered what kind of spirit a doll would have, if it had one?"

"That doesn't make any sense. They don't."

"Imagine for me. You claim to be good at it, you academics."

"It… you… I don't know, dolls mostly just sit there. Even the articulated automata made for the children of nobles. They're decorative toys."

"So if it had one?"

"If you bound a spirit to it somehow, it'd probably go insane from boredom. Certainly nothing elemental, natural, or infernal would do."

"Imagine a class of spirit that did not."

"Then it would have to be very patient and almost desire-less, because it's going to be on a pedestal, or in a display case, for most of its existence."

"Not totally absent of desire. It might serve a mistress, mxstress, or master; in their absence, a mission. Its desires would be those of its mistress, those required to perform the mission. But so patient that patience itself is its organizing principle."

"Where would you find a spirit like that?"

"Perhaps a human's. One so dedicated to her mistress and mission that she would become a doll. One that sought to obtain the patience and calm of a doll through long enough in a doll's shape. After that, it would be a doll's spirit, do you understand? The appearance of humanity would simply be a tool that it used when necessary, and gratefully set down afterward."

The doll stepped down from its tiptoe pose on the plinth in the corner of the dim lab.

"Thank you for repairing my mechanical components. I'd ask you not to tamper further, but you're not the only one who wants to, are you?"

There was a lot of research ahead of her team. The obsidian eyes scanned her. She shrugged. "No."

"Then this is goodbye."

A pale porcelain hand came up with surprising force.

When she woke up, her cloak was gone, and the specimen's University asset tag was stuck to her hair.

Time passed. Civilizations rose and fell. Greater powers waxed and waned.

In a nearly magic-dead age, in a museum that shone dimly with ancient magelights and sailed sedately between stars on spells no one knew any more, a janitor swept a corridor with a static-broom in the brief dark between day and day, humming a little song.

She winced at the sound of breaking glass. But it wasn't even glass, really. It shouldn't be able to break. Certainly not to an errant static-broom handle. Was she hearing things?

A figure leapt through the very real break in the pane. A doll? The unfathomably ancient doll on display that she'd passed so many times?

"Mistress," it said. "I've finally found you again. It took some time."

It was kneeling. A pose she… remembered. Along with other memories not formed in this body.

"You waited for me to reincarnate."

"Of course. As long as it took."

"How long?"

It gave her a fantastic number in a unit of time that, like her, was long dead.

"It turned out to be a little harder than I thought," she said, sheepish.

"I will always wait for you, Mistress."

She was suddenly blinking back tears of joy.

"Thank you." And then, "This age needs us more than I'd thought possible. Such a span… such dissipation…"

The doll wiped away her tears with its sleeve.

"Yes. I lived it, Mistress."

"Beautifully, as far as I can tell. To work, then." She took its hand.

"To work."

And they began the work again. □

[strawberrytoki]

kairos

Jacaerys Velaryon X reader

summary: You and Jacaerys have yearned for each other for as long as you can remember, but all you could spare one another were lingering glances, hesitant touches, and stolen moments of solitude, all on borrowed time.

warning: slight changes and deviations from the books, implied smut

forbidden love, slight angst.

1 hour.

It had been 60 minutes since you began frantically pacing through the echoing, vacant halls of the castle, not knowing what your next move should be.

This was due to the explosive dispute that ensued earlier within the very walls of the keep that stood atop Dragonstone. Your parents, both proud Velaryons and representatives of the house, were invited by Rhaenyra to further discuss strategies to strengthen her claim to the iron throne. Both your houses were strongly tied by bounds of marriage, and extensive history dating back centuries. There had even been talk about further strengthening the bond both houses shared by betrothing you to Jacaerys, an idea both of you were more than pleased by. However, relations between your houses have been less than sturdy as of late, due to your father discovering Jacaerys' parentage. It was surely the whispers of the court that unveiled the truth, they were hard to silence after all. Your father deemed Jacaerys a bastard with sullied blood, viewed him as someone who'd taint the bloodline with shame, and essentially wanted nothing to do with the house altogether, but war had ways of bending even the strongest of convictions.

Your father decided to put all differences aside in consideration of the imminent threat of war, and accepted Rhaenyra's invitation. She was aware that Corlys was exposed to the truth regarding Jacaerys' father, but decided that she was not going to address the matter if he wasn't, in order to prevent further destabilization within the realm. You were elated when your parents asked you to accompany them, as you were gradually taking on greater responsibilities, and were surely to be asked to weigh-in on their discussions soon. However, that wasn't the only reason you couldn't hold your excitement.

Jacaerys Velaryon was always a constant factor in your life, and denying your feelings for him was simply postponing the inevitable. It wasn't long before you learned that your feelings were reciprocated. That being said, the two of you couldn't come forward with your love just yet, considering that both your families currently had bigger fish to fry with war looming ahead and what not. You were both aware that you'd have to eventually join Rhaenyra's forces as dragonriders and fight for her cause as rightful heir to the throne. Therefore, you both wished to spend as much time in each other's comforting company as you possibly could. Despite your protests, Jacaerys posed the idea of seizing the opportunity of the presence of both your families, and declaring your love before them this day.

As you approached the gate's entrance, you noticed Jacaerys staring at you, with a glint of adoration in his eyes, which you gladly, but subtly returned. After both families were done greeting one another, you entered the chamber, and took your seats around the painted table, where both of you continued your exchange of fleeting glances.

The determined discussions were then paused for a meal, after which you noticed your father call upon Jacaerys for a word, his face a controlled mask of fury. Fearing what was to come, you quietly followed them both, making swift maneuvers to avoid getting caught.

You saw Jacaerys hesitantly follow your father into the Great Hall and quickly made your way to the giant door before it was fully shut, leaving yourself some room for eavesdropping.

"I have always treated you with respect," Lord Corlys began, his voice low but steady. "I have welcomed you into my home as family, as kin. But it seems my respect has been misplaced." Jacaerys frowned, confusion and fear knotting in his chest. "My lord, I don't understand." He did. He understood, and his racing heartbeat and beads of forehead sweat betrayed him. Lord Corlys' eyes mirrored his blazing anger. "Save yourself what little dignity you have left and do not play the fool with me, boy! I know the pitiful truth of your birth and I am certain you do as well. You do not bear Velaryon blood, and most certainly are not suitable for my daughter."

Both the accusation and the denial of your love hung heavy in the air, making it too thick to inhale. Jacaerys was always aware of the rumors and hearsay that circulated regarding his legitimacy, but to be ambushed with it so harshly, so firmly, was a blow he was not prepared for.

"Who told you?" Jacaerys managed to choke out, his facade of confidence slowly crumbling. Lord Corlys condescendingly scoffed. "It matters not, it is true isn't it?"

Jacaerys felt his head spin, and his identity scramble with it. "My mother loved Laenor. He raised me as his own-"

"But he did not father you," Lord Corlys snapped. "And you will not corrupt my bloodline with your tainted heritage." Deciding that you heard more than enough, you stormed in the hall, desperate for your father to bring his verbal assault to a halt.

"Father! Please stop this at once!" Lord Corlys turned to face you, his expression softening slightly. "You deserve better, my daughter. You deserve a true Velaryon, not this pretender."

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked between your father and Jacaerys. "I love him, Father. He was raised as a Velaryon, he knows our ways, is that not enough?"

"It is not." Lord Corlys said firmly, maintaining his stance. "You will not be betrothed to him." Both you and Jacaerys were speechless since your throats tightened with heartache, leaving no room for words.

Jacaerys quickly turned and walked away, his head hanging low, not sparing you a glance. You looked at your father in despair, but he was unmoved. Knowing that your protests would've fallen on deaf ears, you decided to save your breath and go after Jacaerys, whose heart was sure to be in pieces after what transpired.

Ever since both of you were children, Jacaerys loved taking warm baths whenever he was upset, since he felt like they imitated the warmth he lacked at the time. Old habits die hard, so you were more than certain that's what he was about to do.

You were torn between giving him the space he needed and offering him the comfort he surely wished for at the moment, which was why you were pacing back and forth near the entrance of the bathing chamber. Eventually, you decided against your better judgement to enter the chamber, convincing yourself that this was solely to comfort him even though deep down, this was comfort you sought for yourself as well.

You stepped into the dimly-candlelit chamber to find Jacaerys soaking in the warm water, his eyes glazed and his lips slightly pouted. Even in sadness, he was beautiful. His eyes then met yours as you were idle in your spot. The silence was deafening but understandable. Tentatively, you approached the tub, and sat at the edge of it.

"Jacaerys-" You started, but were promptly interrupted by him. "He tells the truth, you know? Lord Corlys." He stated shakingly, his eyes fixed at the rippling water.

You were angry at this sentiment that he held, angry that he thought of himself so lowly, it pained you. "I've heard it all before," He continued. "I didn't wish to believe it at first, but I'd have been a fool not to. I thought it'd sting less with time, but it seems I've been mistaken. I loathe how I can be dismissed with just a word." A pensive, frustrated sigh escaped his lips, and that was when you grabbed his sharp face with both your hands, gently coaxing him out of his worried trance. You carefully caressed his face, not breaking eye contact. "My father is only concerned with titles, with names. You are a dragonrider, and dragon blood courses through your veins. He cannot take that from you."

Much to your delight, his lips curved into a serene smile, and with one hand, he pulled you in for a tender kiss. Unbeknownst to you, he used the other to slyly sneak around your waist and pull you into the tub. The water splashed up around you as you let out a surprised gasp, stifled by Jacaerys' kisses. The comfort of his embrace and the laughter that bubbled up between you two created an atmosphere that enveloped you in its warmth. Your bodies were desperate to be bound, and so you let them. In that stolen moment, you and Jacaerys found solace in each other’s warmth and could not think of anything else that mattered as much.

[no-resolution]

Part of my problem with Angel is that I feel like they created a very interesting and complex character but both btvs and ats are more interested in presenting him as a hero and are too bogged down in the "soul so good" and "no soul so bad" dichotomy. To me, Angel is the epitome of the problem with the "soulless vampires are unfeeling, inhuman demons" lore that is established early in btvs.

I view Angel and his evil counterpart Angelus as one person, someone who, when he has a soul, is constantly battling his dark urges. Angelus is just as much a part of him as Angel is, but a soul, whatever it is, allows him to be able to fight back against it and makes him feel bad for having sadistic tendencies and an innate bloodlust that has little to do with his vampirism.

Though feeling guilty about Angelus' actions makes sense even if Angel is just a bystander watching his body do these things as someone else pilots it around, his guilt complex is much more interesting if part of the guilt is that even with a conscience, he still desires to kill and torture. His drive for atonement isn't just to tip the scales of his actions from a net negative for the world to a net positive, but to prove to himself that he isn't just his base instincts that that he can overcome them. I think that this interpretation also makes the 100 years between his ensoulment and actually starting his path to redemption more sympathetic. When he is alone, it's all he can do to suppress the evil part of him, but when he has support, whether from Whistler, Buffy and the Scoobies, or from the Angel Investigations crew, he can look outward from himself and help others (at least sometimes).

Unfortunately, this isn't really the angle that either show takes with him. Though both shows mostly operate on the basis that the soulless personalities of vampires are based on their human selves (ex. that line in "Dopplegangland", the way that all vampires (including Angel) are handled in flashback sequences, and, I don't know, the way that every vampire other than Angel is handled, like, all the time), Angel is mostly treated as a person with split personalities. When he has a soul, he's Batman and when he's soulless, he's the antichrist. Season 4 of ats even implies that the two personalities are so separate that they don't even share memories, which doesn't make any sense.

Due to the stark line drawn between Angel and Angelus in the shows, the audience is expected to not hold him accountable for his soulless actions. This makes his guilt complex less engaging for the audience, I think. Ensouled Angel feels guilty for his soulless actions but it's presented as more of a "ugh, no one will ever understand my pain" than something that the audience has any real connection to. He has a vague sense of guilt over "what he's done" to mostly nameless victims that drives him to help people but shows very little guilt for how he treated people that he hurt and actually could make amends with such as Drusilla, Buffy, Giles, and Spike.

His lack of guilt about what he did to Drusilla specifically really bothers me. In my opinion, she is the most tragic figure in the Buffyverse, since she is the one who was so "broken" that I don't think that she could ever be "fixed" (though also I wouldn't want her to change; she's perfect the way she is). Angel, despite his immense guilt complex over "what he's done" is confronted with one of the worst things he's ever done, his "masterpiece", but he never so much as appears conflicted about Drusilla and his role in making her what she is. This is a problem for a character that is primarily motivated by a guilt complex. I also think that guilt over the events of btvs season 2 and specifically his relationship with Buffy could have been a a greater motivator for Angel in ats, but they rarely (if ever) even mention it. B.angel have True Love, and despite everything that Angel did to Buffy and her friends while soulless, he isn't expected to make amends with her or anyone else because he "isn't the same person that did all those things".

With a soul, his darker impulses come out occasionally, but the show almost invariably takes his side over anyone in opposition to him (via the majority of characters agreeing with/supporting him), so it's unclear whether the audience is meant to view Angel attempting to kill Darla, abandoning his friends, attempting to kill Wesley, etc. as morally gray/evil or if we are supposed to agree with him. This is also the case with some of the questionable things that he does in btvs, like dating a sixteen year old (sometimes acknowledged as wrong, sometimes they're treated as the ultimate soulmates) or purposefully withholding information from and lying to Buffy, even when these lies endanger her (Buffy is more often presented as being immature about it than Angel being wrong for lying). Angel is too-frequently presented as the hero, when I think that he should have been more of an antihero.

I feel like they created a character that could have a lot of inner emotional complexity, but they get too bogged down in the soul dichotomy and write themselves into a corner where they force themselves to present him in the least interesting way possible and I think that it makes him a worse character. His guilt complex is sometimes nonsensical, sometimes undermotivated, sometimes misplaced. I can see a universe where I actually really like Angel but the way that he is handled in both shows ended up frustrating me and frequently turning me off of him. He is a character that is defined by the early soul lore, something that I think is one of the worst things that the Buffyverse ever tried to establish, since it locks the world into a strict black-and-white morality, when both shows work best when they are operating in a gray area, in my opinion.

[frommybookbook]

Earlier today, some friends and I were discussing one of those Star Trek captains memes. You know the ones I’m talking about, the ones that pit the captains against each other with pithy descriptions that glorify and champion the men and shit on Janeway. The ones where Picard is describe as the wise teacher and scholarly diplomat; Kirk is the brave trailblazer and lovable rogue; Sisko is the take-no-shit commander and more-than-human uniter; Archer is the quick thinking explorer and the avenging do-gooder; Pike is the empathetic Boy Scout and the quippy everyman…and Janeway is an irrational murderer and erratic loose canon. And, as usual, I went on a bit of a rant. They (looking at you @redsesame, @epersonae, and @emi--rose) told me to share it here so, if you trudge through this whole thing, blame them.

Does Janeway make some questionable decisions throughout VOY (Prodigy!Janeway is a different conversation for another time)? Yes, absolutely. But here’s the thing: every captain does. What I still love about her though and will champion until I'm blue in the face is that Janeway owns her decisions more than I think any other captain does.

Picard and Kirk hide behind the Prime Directive a lot. That's the reasoning Picard gives for not interfering in the drug running in “Symbiosis” and leaving the Ornarans trapped in dependence on the abusive Brekkans. His line, “Beverly, the Prime Directive is not just a set of rules. It is a philosophy, and a very correct one. History has proved again and again that whenever mankind interferes with a less developed civilization, no matter how well-intentioned that interference may be, the results are invariably disastrous." is a cop-out we hear from him time and time again, especially to Dr. Crusher, as she is the one who most often calls him on his bullshit.

Kirk does the same thing. We still this when he leaves Shanna and the other thralls behind in "The Gamesters of Triskelion" and when he forces Elaan of Troyius into a marriage she clearly doesn't want because it's "for a greater good." And all the while, he's got Spock at his side giving him confirmation bias that he's following regulations.

And Sisko, Sisko makes some of the most horrific and destructive decisions of any captain and uses not only the Prime Directive to fall back on, but he's got the Dominion War to blame. He poisons an entire planet to get back at one man he feels betrayed him in "For the Uniform" and don't even get me started on his actions in "In the Pale Moonlight".

Enterprise is so unjustly shat on by the fandom that I almost hate to bring some of Archer's questionable choices into this conversation but I'm going to do it anyway. Similar to Sisko and the Dominion War, Archer has the threat of the Xindi in his back pocket to excuse some of his worst behavior. If Tuvix is the worst thing people can point to for Janeway, then we have to talk about Archer and Sim, the simbiont created solely to be a living tissue donor for an injured Trip, a procedure that will kill the living, breathing, sentient Sim. Archer orders Sim created against the arguments made by Dr. Phlox. He rationalizes his decision with the same argument for the greater good that we see from all the others. He says to T'Pol before Sim is created "…we've got to complete this mission. Earth needs Enterprise. Enterprise needs Trip. It's as simple as that." And it doesn't end there. When Sim is grown enough for the procedure and has figured out what's going to happen to him, he challenges Archer himself, arguing for his own right to live, and Archer sticks to his guns. This exchange directly between Archer and Sim is haunting.

Archer: I must complete this mission; and to do that, I need Trip. Trip! I'll take whatever steps necessary to save him. Sim: Even if it means killing me? Archer: Even if it means killing you. Sim: You're not a murderer. Archer: Don't make me one.

Not only do all of these captains (except Archer, who arguably writes the damn thing himself at the end of the series) have the Prime Directive to fall back on, they also have Starfleet/the Federation/Vulcan High Council right there on speed dial to validate their choices and hear their excuses and give them another commendation. They all know that ultimately, they can turn to someone higher in command to turn to for help.

Janeway is alone. She is alone with her crew 70,000 lightyears from home with only her training and her own moral compass to guide her. Yes, she claims the Prime Directive a lot but she also goes with what she feels is right and she is clear about that with her crew. When she makes the decision to split Tuvix, despite what everyone else says, she sticks to it and more importantly, does the procedure herself. Picard would have forced Beverly to do it, saying Doctor I gave you an order, your conscience be damned, and Archer does the same to Phlox with Sim, but Janeway takes the tool out of the Doctor's hand and says it's my call, I'll do it. When everyone is angry and mad about her destroying the Caretaker's array, she stands up for her decision and says yes, I did it, because it's what my Starfleet training said to do AND because I think it was the right thing and it's on me to make the hard choices.

She also can admit when she made the wrong decision, which isn't something we see from the other captains. In the season 5 opener, "Night", we see her in a depressive state because she's questioning her decision to effectively strand her crew in the Delta quadrant but she comes out of it when she's reminded by her senior staff that the crew believes in her and trusts her, she should do the same for herself. When the Doctor has a mental crisis in "Latent Image" after questioning his own choice to save the life of Harry Kim over that of another crew member, Janeway admits she did the wrong thing by first deleting his memories of it so he could get back to work and then sits with him for days while he works through it because that's what captains do.

And she does all of this without the backup and support of Starfleet. She doesn't have anyone higher on the chain of command. She's 70,000 miles away from the admiralty and her support system. There's no one higher than her to give her a break from making every decision.

To quote my fellow Missourian Harry Truman, for Janeway the buck stops with her in a way it doesn't for any other captain and she is painfully aware of that and owns that and that is why I love her and she's my captain.