#and yet Gabriel is able to break a clear cycle

[rose-above-dark]

Day 1 of writing ultrakill: hehehe machine powered by blood!! Mankind is dead, gabriel wants to fuck that machine

Day ???? Of writing ultrakill: hell is alive. Hell is alive and we are the entertainment, marked by blood as the fuel. The terminals watch us: for they and we are ultimately what’s left of humanity. They are an archive of everything mankind has ever achieved and one of its last remaining idols. There is nothing left to consume but yourself. The loop will endlessly repeat until either entropy- or yourself finally, mercifully ends it. You and Gabriel are tools now without purpose and now you must find it. Through Gabriel are you able to reach peak performance, the penultimate version of yourself. Through V1 Gabriel is able to achieve a form of deliverance- ecstasy through a newfound freedom. This is a wretched, bloodied love story that’s alive with every player as its intestines and entrails- eating itself whole. By killing each other- you will destroy everything you have left. You must break the loop today or the loop will repeat tomorrow. Gabriel really wants to fuck that machine and V1 wants that angel BADLY

[dothwrites]

part iii of mafia!au

Dean/Cas, canon-typical violence with some non-con drug usage. references to torture and blood (canon-typical)

part i | part ii

---

Once, Castiel had a world of possibilities at his fingertips, only awaiting his touch to unfurl and release their potential. The whole city spread open before him like a banquet, and he, the favored son, was able to cherry-pick experiences and scenarios. He could sample them at will and discard anything not to his liking. He strode through the world like a colossus, and watched the future unspool before his feet. 

Now, his world has shrunk to cycles: awake and not. Dark and not. Pain and not. 

Mostly, his world is pain. 

Much of what passes is outside his understanding. Faces swim in front of him, some familiar, some not. Some he recognizes, like Raphael and Naomi, his father’s right and left hand respectively, and some he doesn’t. Some he knows are impossible, like his mother. And some he just wants to see. Like Dean. 

Real and not real take on new definitions. He knows he’s not all there, at least not all of the time. He swims into awareness one day to witness someone bent low over his arm. A needle digs into the vulnerable flesh of his inner elbow, and blood trickles down to the floor. 

“No...What are you...stop it.” He watches, horrified, as blood wells and fills the glass syringe. A merciless thumb presses down on the plunger, pumping poison into his veins. “No, no...please. Stop. Please.” Castiel’s voice breaks on the last word, even as a chilling numbness begins to spread through his arm. If he were capable of mustering the emotion, Castiel would feel humiliated. A son of the Novak family, begging for mercy. 

Novaks don’t beg. Novaks don’t ask. Novaks take. 

And here he is, a single fat tear rolling down his cheek, even as his eyes roll back in his head and the world washes out and becomes Not. 

---

The Not is better than the Pain. 

His nerves are confused, too haywire from the drugs to properly protect him, and the Pain hits harder than it otherwise might. 

When he and Gabriel were little, his father had trained them (not his father, because Michael Novak had been busy with more important concerns than his sons, but someone on his father’s payroll) to withstand pain. He and Gabriel had been cut, had their hands held in fire, had their joints twisted and bent, and been beaten, all in the name of training any weakness out of them. Castiel knows pain. Castiel understands pain. 

But Pain and Not combine to make a hellish reality, one which Castiel’s sluggish brain fails to comprehend. Shapes move in and out through his peripheral vision as the walls melt around him. He doesn’t know if he’s floating or if the world is shifting around him. Things like hours become meaningless concepts. Eventually days lose their sense of urgency. 

Pain is his constant companion, lingering around his ribs, his legs, his feet, his hands...Pain lingers around his body. Sometimes, he’s even present and awake when they hurt him. He clamps his jaw around a scream (Novaks don’t scream, hissed in his ear, a slap across his face, Novaks don’t cry), but soon he’s not conscious enough to know whether or not he screams. 

He doesn’t think so. He hopes not. 

---

Clarity arrives in little blinks. 

Naomi’s face materializes before him. A cold smile graces her features as she flashes a light into his eyes. “Ah, Castiel,” she says, politely, like they’re both participants in a boardroom meeting. “Are you with us?” 

“Stop.” Castiel tries to put the bite of command into his voice, but his voice comes out as a weak croak. 

Naomi doesn’t do him the courtesy of pretending to listen. “Pupil reaction is delayed but within acceptable ranges.” She taps a quick note on her phone. “Your blood pressure is a tad high.” 

With difficulty, Castiel gathers the memories of the past hours (days?). His arm going numb, drugs pumped into his blood, the world spinning, Dean, his father, his mother, Gabriel, all swimming before him in a wild dance-- “Well, perhaps my body doesn’t like the drugs which you’ve been plying me with.” 

A cold tendril of fear wraps around Castiel’s heart at Naomi’s delighted little chuckle. “Oh Castiel, I shouldn’t be surprised, and yet.” She taps out another note. “If you’re still this cognizant, we need to up your dosage.” 

“No!” He’s overcome by terror at the thought of losing even this small amount of awareness. He tries to bolt, only to find his arms strapped down to the chair. The leather straps around his forearms creak with the strain of his struggling, but hold firm. “No, no, you can’t!” 

“Oh, sweet boy, yes we can.” Naomi turns around, and Castiel catches sight of the small table behind her. Surgical instruments gleam, as light glances off the wickedly sharp blades and needles. She chooses a syringe filled with clear liquid. Castiel’s stomach churns as she approaches him. 

With the ease of practice, Naomi ties a tourniquet around his upper arm. Castiel struggles and tries to jerk away from her, but the straps keep him immobilized. Her perfectly manicured thumb presses mercilessly on old bruises as she attempts to raise a vein. 

“Why not kill me?” Naomi’s eyebrow lifts in surprise, though Castiel has to remind himself that her surprise, like almost everything else about her, is a mask to hide her true intentions. Castiel licks at his dry lips before he continues. “You must suspect me. Why not just kill me and be done with it?” 

His father is not known for his mercy.

Naomi’s face breaks into a polished, insincere smile which never comes close to reaching her icy eyes. “Oh Castiel, what would be the point in killing you? A corpse can’t take over the Novak family.” She prods at his elbow and raises a vein. Before Castiel can even cry out, she plunges the syringe into his flesh. 

“Of course, after you’re done with your...punishment, you’ll need help. Someone to guide you on your proper path. You’ve shown that you can’t be trusted with the hard decisions, so I think it wise to have someone by your side. They’ll share your power, so to speak.” The smug tone in Naomi’s voice leaves no doubt in Castiel’s mind as to who she thinks will be “sharing” power with him. 

“So that’s it?” He has to gasp the words out; thinking is becoming difficult. “You torture and drug me to teach me a lesson, and by the end, I’ll just willingly agree with whatever you want?” 

Naomi’s smile never flickers as she looks at him, but there is a terrible satisfaction within her eyes. “Oh, by the time I’m through with you, you’ll agree to whatever I want, and you’ll do it with a song in your heart.” 

She turns back to the table, leaving Castiel to hyperventilate as her words rattle around his skull. She’ll leave him a vegetable, or something close to it. She’ll make him into her creature, she’ll rip him apart until there’s nothing left, and then rebuild him to her specifications. She’ll keep at him with knives and drugs until he’s so desperate for any reprieve that he’ll say anything, agree to anything, just to make it all stop. 

Naomi turns back towards him, a scalpel glittering in her hand, but mercifully, Castiel is already gone. 

---

He dreams, sometimes. Or not. It’s difficult to tell; the barrier between wakefulness and slumber is so very thin. 

Ungentle hands pry open his eyelids, and Castiel tries to snarl his displeasure. The sound comes out as a disgruntled whimper. He tries to jerk away, but he’s weak and the hands holding him are like steel. 

“--stiel. Cas. Are you there? Can you hear me?” 

Castiel moans as the hands finally release him. He blinks and a face swims into view. 

“Balthazar?” The middle of the name muddles through his mouth, but he gets enough across to make sense. “What are you...Why?”

Balthazar’s features twist and swim in front of his face; he can’t read them. “Good to see you’re alive. Try and keep it that way.” 

They’re not going to let me die, Castiel wants to tell him. They’re not that kind. 

But then he blinks, and Balthazar is gone. 

---

He wakes to find Dean’s face before him. 

Castiel forgot just how disarmingly beautiful he was. 

Dean’s smile is a sweet, gentle thing, which has no place in Castiel’s world, which tastes of blood and metal. In their time together, Castiel was never able to se this side of Dean except in quick little glimpses. He yearns for Dean’s warmth with a strength so viciousness that it surprises him. “Hey sunshine,” Dean murmurs, perched at the edge of the narrow bed. “How are you feeling?” 

Castiel blinks. There’s something wrong; Dean is hazy around the edges, and his eyes don’t blink like normal people’s. There’s a static quality to him which reminds Castiel of the portraits lining the walls of the mansion: Dean’s eyes stare through him, their gaze eerie and uncomfortable. 

Dean asked him a question. “I hurt,” he murmurs. His hand rubs at his chest. It takes a moment for him to realize that he’s not restrained. Too bad he’s too weak to do anything; no doubt that’s why he was allowed to remain unrestrained in the first place. “They come, and they...” He swallows. “Why are you here?” 

He put Dean in the car. That much he knows. He kept Dean safe. 

(Every time he struggles back into consciousness, that’s all they ask him: Where is Dean Winchester, where is Sam Winchester, where is Gabriel Novak? Castiel grits his teeth and spits blood and eventually he even allows them to hear his screams, but he never tells. 

Gabriel would have taken them away from the safe house. He knows how Gabriel’s brain works, pragmatic and ruthless for all his joking. From the moment Dean stepped out of the car alone, Gabriel would have known: Castiel wouldn’t be coming. Gabriel would have made a plan; coming back to the Novak stronghold was madness and suicide, so he never would have chosen that path. No, Gabriel would scatter them, send himself and the Winchesters so far underground that they could never be found. 

Where is Dean Winchester? Where is Sam Winchester? Where is Gabriel Novak? Castiel smiles, and when he can’t do that, he grimaces, and when that doesn’t work he finally wails I don’t know, and Naomi frowns and hurts him, and never realizes he’s telling the truth.) 

“I came to see you. I had to make sure you were all right.” Dean’s expression darkens. “Why did you do it? Why’d you let me go?” 

Weakness. From the moment of his conception, Castiel has been molded and forged to become a weapon without flaws, yet there was always a fatal imperfection right at the heart of him. For twenty-five years it went unnoticed, and then Dean Winchester managed to expose it with a single smile. 

(His flaw is that he feels, more than he was ever meant to, certainly more than his father would like. Castiel feels and burns with it, and that fire threatens to tear down anything in its path, including Castiel himself.)

“You would have done the same for me.” 

Dean’s smile never fades, even as he shakes his head. “No,” he says slowly, something like pity in his eyes, “no, I wouldn’t have.” Castiel’s breath catches in his throat, but Dean continues. “And now what? You’re dying? You’re letting them kill you? For Sam Winchester? What’s he, other than some brat you never knew? For Gabriel? He never gave a damn about you, because if he did, then he would be here right now.” A small, hateful laugh spills from Dean’s lips. “For me? Cas, don’t you know? I would have betrayed you in a heartbeat, as long as I could be assured I was getting something halfway decent out of the bargain.” 

Dean’s voice is brittle as it cracks against Castiel’s ears. “Face it, Cas. You’re here, getting yourself cut open to protect a bunch of people who wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire. Give it up.” Castiel chokes on the words, but Dean continues. “You could make it stop, you know. Just tell them where the safe house is. They know it was your idea. They know no one else had the information. No one else could have put it together but you, with that big brain of yours.” The look in Dean’s eyes is almost fond, or it would be, if the lines at the corner of his eyes weren’t so hard. 

“Come on, Cas. Aren’t you tired of hurting? Don’t you want it to stop?” 

“Shut...the hell up,” Castiel finally rasps. 

It’s not Dean. Absurd as it may sound, he knows Dean Winchester. And while Dean might be mercurial, ruthless, and brusque, he also knows--Dean would never be this cruel. Castiel’s seen the light in Dean’s eyes when he’s delighted, he’s seen how Dean’s mouth goes soft around the edges when Dean forgets to school his expression. He felt Dean’s kiss, the passion and the desire under his gruff exterior. 

This isn’t Dean Winchester. 

“Leave me alone.” Castiel tries to curl into himself, but his body is too stiff and he’s in too much pain to make it far. He subsides with a pathetic little whimper. He’d feel humiliated, if he had the strength for it. “You’re just...you’re in my head. You’re not real.” 

(His intellect had been the thing that he’d prided himself on the most; let others have their brawn, their guns, their knives. Castiel would have those too, make no mistake, but he’d have the intelligence to cut down all his opponents before he ever needed them. Now he’s whining at a hallucination, unable to tell the difference between dream and reality.)

“Oh no, Castiel,” a smooth, cloying voice says, and Castiel closes his eyes as Dean’s handsome features start to blur. “I’m afraid that it’s all too real.” 

Naomi smiles at him, and the light glints off a small hook held in her hand, menacingly close to his eyes. “Do you want to tell me where Dean Winchester is?” 

Castiel clenches his jaw and shakes his head with as much fury as he can manage. It’s not much. “Go to hell,” he finally manages. It’s the last swipe of a dying animal, one final gasp of defiance before the inevitable surrender. 

Naomi shrugs, her features carved and unmoving. “Very well, if that’s how you want this to go.” The point of the hook digs into the apple of his cheek with enough pressure to send a single pearl of blood down his skin. 

“Shall we begin?”

tbc...

---

tags--if you want to be added/removed, let me know. (also there’s a lot of you and tumblr is back on its bullshit; if you were left off it wasn’t intentional, and i’m a moron)

@screamatthescreen @queenvee08 @dizzypinwheel @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @rogerslouis @stay-inside-the-salt-ring @deansbff @spaceshipkat @espejonight28738 @proccastinate @organicpurplepants @good-things-do-happen-dean @protectyourdarlings @marichankitty @tequila-m0ckingjay @tehmanda @tanstaaflz @bluebell-24 @mypensandpencilss @breathingdestiel @random-hunter @mybonsai1976 @becky-srs @cas-s-sinoatrial-node @somethingblue42 @cxstielsgrace @iamasphodelknox @tnw14 @cockleslovesdestiel @fabreagab @painnnn-thats-it @hittheroadjus @faithlover611 @apieceofurmind @fanguuuuuurl

[nomolosk]

Snapshots (AU Yeah August 2020)

read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25655623/chapters/62452285

Day 4- Bender

Adrien had barely a few moments to recover from the strange experience of being dislodged from his own time- and being rescued by Ladybug no less! An older, much hotter Ladybug…- before a Corrupted Earth-bender started tearing everything apart around him. His image of Ladybug- even her name- morphed into a different configuration in his mind, even as he cursed his luck and ran off, trying to find somewhere marginally safe where he could change into his alternate persona. With an Earth-bender, even a building built with metal wasn’t necessarily safe. By report it was wickedly hard to bend metal, but you never knew who had the will-power, and a Corrupted Bender was typically more powerful than an Uncorrupted one. Adrien was once again thankful he’d made his messenger bag part of his usual “look,” and always stood his ground when Gabriel questioned his constant reliance on it.

Technically, he was supposed to go straight home when a Corrupted Bender attacked the city- his father insisted on it. But who else could help Cricketbird when someone’s spirit was overtaken, if not her steadfast partner Sir Pontichat Noir? Even now, dodging dislodged bricks and uprooted sections of asphalt and cement, Adrien felt himself smirk at his alter ego's name. He was proud of that one. He spotted a plastic waste bin and made for it. With all the rogue benders lately attacking the city, the mayor had decreed (along with many other reforms) that as many metal dumpsters and waste bins as possible be replaced with fiberglass or plastic, reasoning that it was the only material still safe from manipulation by benders. While it was a decent idea, Adrien privately wondered how long that state of affairs would last.

Either way, he opened the lid and jumped in just as the rogue bender swept past. A few more jolts and rumbles, and then the worst was over. Adrien pulled the tightly rolled suit out of the special concealed pocket in his messenger bag. He unrolled it only to have a moment of deep disconnect. The suit didn’t look right, didn’t feel right all of a sudden. For an instant he had a vision of… of something. Somewhere else. Almost like a memory, but he had the impression it was very recent. A woman in a Cricketbird suit, only… only it wasn’t the Cricketbird he was familiar with. She was older, and Paris looked… different. Very different. Yet, still familiar somehow... 

Thankfully the vision didn’t last long. Everything snapped back into focus and his sudden unease with the suit faded. As much as it shook him a little, he tried to ignore it, quickly putting the suit on over his regular clothes and swaddling his shoes in special coverings. He reached up to muss his hair before putting on the mask. He checked to make sure everything was secure before stashing the bag in the small slit between the plastic waste bin and the wall of the building behind it.

He wasn’t the only one who fought against the spirit controlled benders, and all of them wore disguises, usually choosing an animal of some kind. He felt his own- the snake-cat- gave him considerable intimidation factor. He had sharp plastic claws on the ends of his gloves, and of course his fire-bending imitated the destructive quality of snake venom. Cricketbird, on the other hand, was the luckiest person he’d ever met. In most fights, she’d snatch up a piece of trash, trinket, or random bit of scenery just lying around, declare it her “lucky charm,” and somehow find a way to use it to disable the bender and get in close so she could purge their spirit of the corrupting influence. Of all of them, she was the only one who knew the technique. 

Sometimes, Adrien wondered if she were the Avatar in disguise. But no one had seen an Avatar for at least 200 years, and most thought the cycle had ended or been interrupted somehow. Adrien wasn’t sure about that, especially since he’d been fighting with Cricketbird. But she’d never shown any indication that she could control anything but her own element of Air.

Either way, Avatar or not, she needed his help right now. They were the first two to rise against the Corrupted, so their partnership was on another level, even though they’d allowed and even asked others to join the fight. 

Sir Pontichat Noir clambered as quickly as he could over the rubble, tracking the Corrupted bender through the easy medium of following the path of destruction. It was a good thing one of the members of their team was also an Earth-bender. Caraquack would help put everything to rights after the battle was over. 

It wasn’t long before Sir Pontichat caught up to the fight in progress. Cricketbird and Caraquack were already on the scene, Caraquack trying to suppress and deflect the Corrupted bender’s projectiles, shielding the surrounding buildings, and doing just fine holding his own. Sir Pontichat joined them, circling around to Cricketbird’s position. She was glancing around in a way he recognized and he knew it wouldn’t be long before she found something to help her- to help them- win the fight.

“Where do you need me, bugaboo?” he said, sidling up to her. Cricketbird acknowledged him with a nod and a roll of her eyes for the nickname.

“Sorry, scaly-cat, but what we really need to do is get him off the ground, and that calls for Air, more than fire. Can you hold down this position so I can get up there?” she asked, nodding toward a fairly intact building slightly behind the Corrupted’s position. “Try to keep her distracted so she doesn’t tear the building down under my feet, okay?”

“Done, and done,” Sir Pontichat said, giving her a two-finger salute. Again, there was a strange sense of deja-vu about the simple action, but he shook it off. He needed all his wits about him if he was going to get through this fight without significant injuries. Rena Belette knew some Healing, but she was still learning, and it took time- time Pontichat usually didn’t have. And he couldn’t go home with injuries he couldn’t explain when he was supposed to be avoiding the Corrupted fights.

Cricketbird leaped away, her jumping enhanced by the springs attached to her calves. Sir Pontichat remembered their first few fights, when she’d still be learning to use them. She’d launched herself into him, walls, the pavement… but now, she moved in them with the grace of a leopard-deer. In a few moments she was out of sight. Sir Pontichat started zig-zagging around the area, drawing the Corrupted’s attention with fire bursts. Caraquack proved just as quick on the uptake as usual and started pelting the Corrupted from wherever Pontichat wasn’t attacking. Pontichat used every bit of his parkour skills to dodge, run, and leap over the torn-up street without getting hit or boxed in. Even so, he had to use fire-blasts to deflect incoming rocks and break out of a potential trap several times before a whirlwind descended on the Corrupted. It swept her up, breaking her connection with the earth, and bore her over to where Cricketbird stood on the roof of her chosen building. She reached into the whirlwind and grasped an arm, using it to stabilize the Corrupted so she could reach up and touch her head as well.

Sir Pontichat and Caraquack watched in their usual awe as the Corrupted started glowing in two different colors- her body a neon green that they’d seen from other Earth-benders, but with a virulent orange head. The orange clearly didn’t belong, and was creeping slowly down the neck as well. Cricketbird, in turn, glowed a warm yellow. Slowly, her color invaded the other’s, though only up the arm she grasped, and spreading out from her hand on her head. The yellow overcame the orange, then receded, leaving healthy green in its wake.

Sir Pontichat often felt guilty for his own Fire-bending during this process. The one time Cricketbird had had trouble purging a Corrupted was when it was also a Fire-bender- that time it had taken nearly half an hour for her to find the invading spirit and overcome it, and she’d been exhausted afterwards. It was clearly a Fire-bender who was corrupting people, and everytime Sir Pontichat watched Cricketbird purge someone, it made him that much more determined to find the culprit and make sure they wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else ever again.

Fire-benders were already looked at sideways by many, since their powers were almost always destructive and could quickly run out of control. It was one of the reasons Gabriel insisted Adrien Agreste was a non-bender, and forbade him to bend in public, or even very much at home, beyond honing his ability to suppress the power. It had taken Sir Pontichat Noir almost a year of fighting the Corrupted to really gain power and confidence in his Fire-bending.

After making sure Cricketbird didn’t need him for anything else, Sir Pontichat Noir slipped off. Caraquack was busy restoring the road and buildings, joined after a while by other Earth-benders if the increased sounds of thumping and bumping behind him were any indication. It was another thing Sir Pontichat felt guilty about. He might be able to provide support during a fight, but he had never yet been able to help clean up afterwards. Fire was a good bending ability- it could keep people warm and clear a path, but in the end, it was destructive in its very nature. About the only way it could be said to help create anything was to refine other materials, to make earth even harder in the form of brick and ceramics, or to power machines that created other things.

Fortunately, the Earth-bending crew was working from the end of the rampaging zone backward, which meant that the area where Sir Pontichat Noir had first appeared was still relatively deserted. It made it much easier for him to creep back into the original alley, retrieve his messenger bag, and turn back into Adrien Agreste. Even then, Adrien took some back alleys away from the location so he could rejoin the crowds in a busier part of town. 

He didn’t perceive the nearly invisible wave that swept over him and his surroundings, morphing the buildings and people into new shapes and forms. His memories were subtly edited, removing all reference to elemental bending and Corrupted Benders, and replacing those with references to akumas and Miraculous powers. It was so swift and subtle that once again, neither Adrien nor anyone around him noticed.

@auyeahaugust

[lilium-tenebris]

So this is a long rant about Lillian’s morale code, the Crest of Lovicelle’s secondary functionality, and the nature of Grima in this weakened state and how it colors Lillian’s relationship with it. Under the cut cuz boy am I going to get going long on shit. Yeah, this is really long but it’s also really important so *shrug*.

So the first thing I need to make somewhat clear about Lillian is she is not objectively a morally good character, not even close. In her interactions she has been exceptionally kind and friendly (to the best of HER abilities) in most cases and that is genuine. But a nice person is not always a GOOD person in the morale scale of things. Lillian only obtained a concept of good and bad from the occasional children’s book and what not and so her grasping of it is very vague and her ability to understand the IMPORTANCE of that sort of thing is low.

She isn’t evil though, in a typical 9 alignment system she’s a type of neutral though that can vary which of the 3 from route to route. For example Crimson Flower being the only route she becomes OVERLY zelous about the cause itself she becomes Lawful Neutral with Edelgard as the ‘law’ so to speak. In the school phase and many others she’s chillin more at a True Neutral. With the exception of Crimson Flower, but this still applies in it, Lillian is Loyal to PEOPLE not ideals, concepts, a morale system, anything.

She has striven her whole life to be accepted, you would think being the object of worship of a cult would give that impression but it doesn’t in her case. During her time in the Grimist Cult she was ISOLATED, other than strange dehumanizing worshiping rituals she was denied seeing any of her caretakers for any length of time BECAUSE it would humanize her. They did not want a little girl they wanted a god.

Coming to the Church of Seiros was NOT much better for her, and though it’s objectively a step up because of the way it made her feel she views it as worse. Once her connection to Grima came to light and the nature of it’s energy being restrained by her she was simply dehumanized in a  different way. She became basically treated like an artifact, a fragile urn with an evil spirit in it to be set on a shelf to keep the spirit at bay. Anyone with even an inkling  of who she was or what was going on wound up treating her like the plague in order to avoid being the one to crack or shatter the ‘urn’ in this metaphor.

She was only able to spend time around certain people that way such as Professor Hanneman helping him with his research, yet, even there she felt as though that was because of her crest. She was welcome there only because she was an interesting research subject, once again, not a person, whether that reflects his true opinion isn’t known to me and I’ll handle that on a person by person basis RP wise, yet, in the end it’s how she comes to FEEL about it just the same.

Then this years students come in and she manages to connect with Gabriel ( @sol-chorus ) my other character. That helps, he helps, but, Gabriel has his own problems and struggles that make him biased against other students, the houses, and just the system there under based on his experiences with his own crest. Not to mention he is not AWARE of everything listed above as she has been ordered to keep that ‘burden’ to herself as it is ‘hers’ to carry. So he doesn’t realize when he talks down about her joining a houses when she mentions it he’s pushing her into this cycle of isolation he doesn’t know ANYTHING about it.

So that’s where she winds up by the time she is pulled into the 3h main story and conflict by SOMEONE from one of the houses reaching out a hand. In most cases (minus one AU) the students have no IDEA about who or what she is or where she came from and she’s treated as a classmate, a weird classmate, but she’s not the strangest one certainly. And the more the first half of the game goes on the harder Lillian latches onto her classmates, her house, the Professor etc. she is finally somewhere where she’s considered a person. However, warnings from the church sill put her back remind her ‘what’ she is and that juxtaposition of that still haunting her against her new friends and allies is maddening and it takes her minor bitterness towards the Church and inflates it to a silent boiling rage. To the point that she won’t go in the Chapel, like, if she was implemented int he game during no months of any free time, in the WHOLE game would you find her anywhere near the chapel.

In a route such as the Blue Lions, she at least comes to accept a church that is at least fully under Byleth’s leadership, but, she still has lingering resentment for Rhea (who survives) and the old church for what she was put through.

Of course all of that brings us around tot he source of this, Lillian was born a Grim Witch, she was born this Generations Vessel/Host of the weakened spirit o The Fell Dragon, that has been falling deeper and deeper into weakness over the Millennia between this and anything else I’ve written for this lore. It will be centuries before the dragon’s soul can gain enough energy to even try to exist outside of a host again. This puts LIllian in a different position than previous hosts, it does not wish to destroy her, or rather it could not do so even if it wished because that would leave it right where it started. Instead it pursues a more ‘symbiotic’ appearing relationship with her. Because she has been able to hear the voice since she was a small child even when she was ALONE she was connected to the dragon and could hear it frightening and overwhelming as it was. As the conflict breaks out in 3H the Fell Dragon seizes that and Lillian’s new found attachments as a weakness. It may not be able to regain it’s strength and be rid of her but it can use her to decrease the wait time on it rebuilding it’s strength in the long run.

The Crest of Lovicelle acts as a simple magic attack increasing Crest for mechanics but, it’s secondary feature is to act as a road a channel between the dragon and it’s host allowing the host to borrow some of it’s power. However, Grima being ultimately driven by a desire to break free in centuries hence and destroy the world as it is known will not do something like that for free. In order to use this functionality of the crest and activate it’s ‘Breath of Ruin’ factor. This taps into Grima’s base energy and essentially allows Lillian to disintegrate something, walls, people, anything lacking in the kind of divinity Grima possesses can be destroyed by the dragon’s raw ruin factor. However, in order to open IT’S end of the channel Grima requires one thing in return. For each time it’s power is to be borrowed through the crest this way, it wants a human soul. It does not matter who or from where any soul now is able to help the creature regenerate it’s power faster from it’s current weakened stasis. And the point of everything above is to say this: Lillian in some ways is not OPPOSED to using this power, sparingly.

If these people who have finally made Lillian feel like a human being, people who have accepted her are in enough danger she will cave to this offer of power time and again. If her back hits the wall and she can see no other way to protect her house/side she’ll pay the price, one enemies soul (or if desperate enough a simple stranger’s) ceasing to exist is worth the price of admission if that borrowed power will save those she’s come to love. The only thing that effects this use of it is how OFTEN she uses it, for example in Crimson Flower there is a very ‘ends justify the means’ attitude through that WHOLE route and I could see her using this not nearly constantly but maybe 5-8 times throughout the WHOLE five and a half year war (maybe once in the academy phase it depends). Where as in say an Azure Moon Route where that sort of thing may not be as ‘acceptable’ to her allies she may only use it once or twice.

This is more or less despite her reasons for it objectively evil as an action itself, someones soul CEASES to be, it is GONE, they are something worse than dead. She is WELL aware of this fact, don’t doubt that she  is aware not only of this but, that each time she leans on the dragon like this, it becomes a little stronger and she damns some future generation a little bit more. She knows these things she understands them from an objective concept, she can write them on paper and explain them in words and yet-

She doesn’t FEEL them. At least not int he way most people would, she is not REMORSELESS not even close any time she uses this ability it shakes her and she may even isolate herself for a while to try and cope with the evil she commits. But she has a very ‘it had to be done I had no choice, i couldn’t let something HAPPEN to them’. Her allies are worth it, her friends are worth it, these people who would welcome her are worth any suffering, after all she was BORN a monster that is not going to change just because some people are kind enough not to see her that way.

That is what she believes that is what her ENTIRE rearing as a child has brought her to have resonate from her very core. Lillian is a very nice person, if you become friend or ally she would do anything for you to repay that kindness.

Emphasis on anything.

[mellieartcorner]

The Princess and The Prince Thief-Chapter Four

Summary: Princess Marinette of the Kingdom of Creaturae was very happy. Her reasons?-The notorious thief Chat Noir was locked up, her 21st birthday was soon, and she was going to become Queen. That is, until it was decided that she had to marry the mysterious Prince Adrien of the Kingdom of Mortem in order to become Queen. To make matters worse, Chat Noir escaped from jail and is visiting her almost every night. Having to run a kingdom is bad enough, but falling in love with a thief and a prince is the hardest part of all.

Genre: Fiction-Fantasy/Romance AU

Rated: T for Teen- Ages 15+

  Patreon Supporters get Chapters a whole day early! For only $5 a month, you can too! Patreon.com/mellie711

Words: 2,510

Ao3

Fanfiction.net 

Chapter Four

-Gathering Intel-

Nino waited patiently right by the entrance of the gardens, just out of the way not to be noticed, but just in range to keep an eye on Adrien. He leaned against the stonewall of the palace, eyes closed, the sounds of a nearby fountain humming in his ears. He could hear Adrien and Marinette talking, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. His charge, his liege, his best friend. The news that someone spotted Chat Noir last night put Nino on edge. This mission to find the ring was so important to Adrien, something that Nino knew would help stop the back-stabbing and the lies King Gabriel has been flooding the kingdoms, since the death of Queen Emilie Agreste.  If Adrien could get the ring and place it on Gabriel’s finger, no more could the tyrant threaten the black death upon people. Adrien could then use it to control his own powers and prevent the cycle from repeating. Nino’s family’s hands were tied, but his own weren’t. He wanted Adrien to take the throne, and this marriage to Marinette will only help strengthen that resolve.

  Of course, it doesn’t help that once Adrien took the throne, Nino would be able to take his own kingdom back and actually help Testudo, instead of his cousin, Bulla, working with Gabriel. Curse this traditional arrangement.

The door to the palace opened beside Nino, causing him to crack open an eye and meet Lady Alya’s worried gaze. They bonded over their mutual love and support of their charges, talking last night and at breakfast about the mess the young couple has caused so far. Nino quite liked Lady Alya’s determination and focus. She made sure Marinette was adequately prepared for become Queen, like Nino had to get Adrien ready to take over from his father when the time came.

“Hey, they are still talking, uh?”

Nino nodded, checking over to make sure the couple was still standing near by. They were now walking back towards the entrance of the gardens.

Nino responded, “Yeah, how was damage control in there?”

Alya sighed, “Well, King Gabriel has requested to speak to Princess Chloe and King Andre, King Tom is now at the morning patrol meeting, and Queen Sabine is knitting some small blankets.”

Nino raised an eyebrow for her to elebroate.

“She thinks that grandchildren are soon,” Alya shrugged and grew serious, “But I think we should be preparing for a massive outright war. I don’t trust Gabriel talking with Chloe and her father. And with Chat Noir here, I definitely don’t trust him.”

“Why’s that?”

“I have reason to believe Chat Noir is working under the influence of King Gabriel. He started in Mortem, has hit every Kingdom so far, gathering intel and only stealing to hide his cover,” Alya drew a fist, losing herself in her words, “When I heard he was spotted, at breakfast this morning, I felt like I came to the right conclusion. He has got to be here to ruin the wedding.”

Nino kept his face clear, playing along, “I highly doubt that, I mean, he only steals objects that are cat-like or have cats on them. If he was only doing it to hide his cover, why those objects?”

Before Alya could respond, the young couple approached; Marinette holding a single rose and Adrien fidgeting with his scarf. Both had big love-bird looks, but awkwardly looked away from one another. Nino mentally let out a deep breath. ‘Don’t fall in love, you idiot! You need to use her and find the ring,’ he wanted to say to his charge.

They stopped in front of their mentors, and Alya placed her hand on her hip.

“Glad to see you two getting along now,” she commented, causing them both to grow pink in the cheeks. Nino was glad though; Alya was now focused on something else, and he didn’t have to keep lying to her. He liked her too much for that.

“I am going to go do my daily studies,” Marinette said, breaking away from Adrien and going towards the door, “Goodbye to the both of you, for now.”

Alya wrapped her arm around Marinette’s, leading her inside and closing the doors behind them.

Nino looked over at Adrien, who was watching Marinette walk away, his face brightly lit and full of light. ‘Well, at least he is happy, for once,’ Nino concluded, feeling a little bad popping the prince’s metaphorical bubble.

“Have you searched more for the ring?” he asked, placing a hand on Adrien’s shoulder, “And you know that you can’t get attached to her. She doesn’t even know who you really are.”

Adrien’s shoulders immediately fell, his face darkening.

“Speaking of,” Nino continued, “You have got to be more careful. Lady Alya is suspicious of Chat Noir, too, you know.”

Adrien made a sour face, “She is? Shit. I wonder who spotted him last night, too.”

Nino grunted, “Who ever it was, be glad they didn’t find out about you. Now, why don’t you head to the library and I’ll go into town? I’m sure one of us will be able to figure something out.”

Adrien nodded, sighing heavily. Creatuae had one of the biggest, if not the biggest, library in all of the seven kingdoms.There was bound to be something in there about the ring’s location. Even if it was just a fairytale his mother used to tell him before she passed away.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lady Alya walked through the corridors of the palace, her attire casual as the evening was approaching fast. She spent the majority of her day helping Marinette with her studies, and of course, gossiping about her incoming feelings for Prince Adrien. Now that she had some free time, Alya wanted to get to the bottom of something that had been bothering her.  What Lord Nino said earlier tugged at her mind. Why is Chat Noir only stealing cat related objects? If she was to prove her theory correct, the best place to start was the royal library. She passed by Rose, on her way to Marinette’s room of course, with Juleka by her side; close by her side. Alya and Marinette knew they were hiding the truth about their relationship from everyone else, but Marinette made sure to reassure them that when she is Queen, they could get married and be open. Alya had to just make sure Marinette becomes Queen first.

  Through the palace grounds, adjacent to the gardens, stood the dome library. Home to artifacts, rare books. manuscripts, and the entire history of the royal family and even other families from different kingdoms, Alya knew she would find exactly what she was looking for here.

   The library welcomed her with the smell of books and soft music, playing from a bard with a cello visiting from Ovium. The front desk stood at the center floor, with two spiral staircases on either side reaching up four floors. Shelves upon shelves upon shelves of books, tucked away in order, decorated the entire area. Not many people came and went, but those that did had piles of knowledge in their hands. Alya came up to the front desk, seeing the assistant librarian, Mylene Haprele, reading through a rather large book. Her hair was designed with braids, with different colored feathers and beads intermingled. A small brown beret sat on the girl’s head, with the mark of The Kingdom of Ovium resting on it; the sheep. Alya was glad to see her and not the head librarian, Madame Mendeleiev, who probably wouldn’t even say hello, let alone let Alya search alone.

“Good Evening, Mylene,” Alya said, smiling.

“Oh!” Mylene jumped, “Lady Alya, what a surprise! Two royals in one day! The last time that happened, Princess Marinette had to be escorted here by her mother after that incident with Princess Chloe and the fountain.”

Remembering that day well, Alya laughed and then realized what was just said, “Wait-two royals? Who else is here, Mylene?”

“Oh, Prince Adrien,” the young girl pointed to the right, towards the study area, “He hasn’t brought back his books yet, so I don’t think he has left. But, he said he didn’t want to be disturbed, so I don’t think I can let you go see him.”

Alya studied her options for a moment, bringing two fingers to her lips. She released a soft whistle, at a high enough pitch for Mylene to hear. A faint orange glow illuminated her fingertips as the sound passed through them.

Suddenly, Mylene stood up quickly with a shocked and frightened expression, “I am coming, Ms Mendeleiev!” She turned to Alya, “ I am sorry, Lady Alya, but I have to go now.”

Hating having to use her powers, Alya waved goodbye to Mylene as the poor girl ran towards the voice she thought she heard. Alya walked over towards the study hall. An area full of chairs, papers, ink quills, and sectioned desks, Alya searched for blonde hair. She found him, behind a fortress of books of different shapes and sizes. He looked tired, eyes red from the ink pages, and his hand resting his face.

“Need some help?”

Papers flew, books tossed on the floor, Adrien fell off of his chair with a thudumf.

A giggle couldn’t help but escape Alya’s mouth, as Prince Adrien looked up at her with annoying eyes, but then realized who she was.

“Lady Cesire! You scared me,” he began, getting back into his seat while cleaning up the paper trail. “I told Mylene I didn’t want to be disturbed, too.”

Alya sat across from him, studying his messy attempts at research,  “I am sorry, Your Majesty. But I was just thinking you look like you need a second pair of eyes. Maybe you can help me too.”

Adrien gazed at Lady Alya with a raised expression and a smirk, “Are we bonding, Lady Cesire?”

She played coy, tapping the prince on the nose, “Call me Alya, and yes; I’m looking for objects that are related to cats.”

Adrien’s eyes flashed something Alya couldn’t explain, but then he grinned, “Well, I was looking for something similar, actually.”

Excitement and hopefulness raced through Alya, as she stood up and braced the table between them. “Are you going to try to catch Chat Noir in the act too, before he ruins the wedding?!”

Adrien paused for a second, then nodded in excitement, “Why, yes I am! I want to make sure the wedding happens without any problems.” The Prince reached for a large black cover, beaten up old book, handing it to Alya. In golden letters, the front read, The Miraculous FairyTales of The Seven Kingdoms.

“I know these!” Alya began, flipping through the pages and seeing pictures of all the gods, heroes and monsters, “My mother would read these to me at night, and now she reads them to my younger sisters.”

She looked up, bewildered, “Why did you give me this, though?”

“It seems Chat Noir may be looking for The Ring of Plagg,” Adrien suggested, quickly adding, “Based on what he has stolen previously, it seems.”

Thinking back, Alya recalled the story, “ The Ring of Plagg, so named because it belongs to the God of Destruction and Chaos?  Supposedly gave your family their powers due to a curse? That is a fairytale story! There is no way it is real.” Alya flipped through the book until she found the picture of the tall, handsome God of Destruction, who was basically half-man, half-black cat. A sketch next to the God was of a black and silver ring, with a green paw print at the center of it.

Adrien grabbed another book carefully, this time a leather bound old diary that looked well preserved, “Well, Master Wang Fu found it, according to these journal entries.” Alya tried to reach for the book, but Adrien pulled away, “I’m sorry, Lady Alya, I promised Mylene I wouldn’t let anyone else touch this. It took a lot of convincing to let her even let me look at this, let alone read through it.”

“But Master Wang Fu was the one of the Draconus Lords, the first one, in fact. He was even around during the foundations of the Seven Kingdoms. Those writings have to be well over 1,000 years old,” Alya tapped her chin, her thoughts racing.

Adrien agreed, bracing his face on his hands again in a form of defeat, “But, that’s about as far as I got. The trail stops there. Master Wang Fu simply says, ‘I placed the ring within the land that can not die, giving it to the Lady of Luck.’ There is even a mention of something called The Earrings of Tikki that Master Fu gave this ‘Lady of Luck’.”

Alya dropped the book she was holding and gasped, “The Earrings of Tikki! Those are Marinette’s families prized possessions! They are given to the new Queen on her 21st birthday! The day she is crowned! They get placed back into the vault about a month before the next Queen is expected to take the throne. ”

Adrien’s eyes went wide, the realization hitting him squarely in the chest, “Are..are you positive?” Alya picked back up the book of fairytales, turning the page. She spotted what she was looking for.

“See?” she began, turning the book around and pointing at the page. It showed a elegant, beautiful woman, with a ladybug mask and a large gown decorated with ladybugs. Even ladybugs themselves danced around the woman. A pair of earrings, red and black spotted, were sketched next to the lady.  “That is the Goddess of Life, Tikki. It is said that Marinette’s family are descendants of her. That’s how they have the powers of creation. Since those earrings are real, it means that the Ring of Plagg is real too!”

Adrien stared blankly at the page in front of him, lightly brushing the face of Tikki with his fingertips. He looked lost in thought and conflicted emotions clouded his face.

Alya lightly coughed, jogging him back to reality. She grabbed the book and looked at the page again, trying to catch a glimpse of what Adrien could have seen.

“Sadly, I don’t think Chat Noir can get his hands on that ring. If it is locked up with the earrings, only a female from the House of Cheng can get inside the vault,” Alya causally stated, closing the book with a loud thud. “Which means, I really don’t have anything to worry about.” She flashed a bright smirk, standing up. “Thank you, Prince Adrien. I was worried since you were the son of your father, that you would try to manipulate Marinette like King Gabriel did to my mother,” she patted the prince’s hand in friendship, “But you really do have Marinette’s best interests at heart.”

Alya left the Prince and headed back the palace, wondering why he looked so sad at her parting words. A purple butterfly fluttered away from a nearby open window as Alya walked away.

[gilbirda]

Human courting is confusing. Chapter 27

I’m back! In black

I'm ashamed to confess that I had practically finished this chapter a month ago but I couldn't let it go like that. It didn't convince me.

You see, the moment everyone is waiting for is here. The smut. I guess I'm stalling?

Anyways, in case you didn't see it, I made a few one-shots because of a writing challenge in Tumblr. Check my profile to see them, here in Tumblr or in Ao3 <- profile

[FF.net][Ao3]

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Day 27: On one of their birthdays.

“I’m sorry,�� Yako apologized for the tenth time. Gabrielle turned back to her and gave her the trademark smile the Empress seemed to have all the time, and what once calmed her heart now gave the detective authentic fear.

She gulped and glanced at a servant that was walking down the corridor both women were walking through. She looked like a girl, barely thirteen, but knowing demons she must be older than that. Yako thought about smiling but as soon as they made eye contact the demon opened wide her eyes and cowered into the further side of the corridor, like she was afraid of being in their mere presence. Was it about Gabrielle? Or rumours about her… disagreement with Raven had already spread all over the Palace?

“I said it's okay,” the Empress answered and opened a door Yako couldn't recognize (but as she had been in the Palace a few hours she wasn't surprised by it), finding herself on Gabrielle's beautiful flower garden. “Have a seat.”

Both seated on the same place they did before. Now it seemed like so long ago, like if the Yako that expressed her insecurities to this woman was another different person. Maybe it was, as Yako was now more demon than she was before. Even breathing the miasma was different than before. It tasted better, like some kind of sweet dessert.

“My daughter is a complicated being, isn’t she?” the angel said first, breaking the tense silence between the two. “Don’t hold it on her, though. She is just… young. And reckless.” The haunted look on Gabrielle’s eyes told the detective that there was more history behind that phrase. In a strange way, this woman reminded her so much of Aya.

She missed her so much. Maybe she should visit when they got back home. What would her friend say when she learns about everything that was happening?

“Well, that she is.” Yako said, trying to be diplomatic.

“You don’t have to tone it down for me, honey,” Gabrielle giggled, and it was the most beautiful sound in the world, “I know my own daughter. In fact, I'm aware that she despises me.”

Yako blinked.

“Really?”

“Indeed,” the Empress nodded softly, “she hates anything human-related. You see, everything she thinks of is power and ways to obtain it. For her, being a human is a disgrace and mating one is a waste of potential.”

“But she is the second ranked demon, right? She is quite powerful already,” she said, not understanding. And her mother is human, she left unsaid.

“There’s a big gap between my mate and her, Katsuragi Yako,” Gabrielle sighed and looked at the other woman with a sorrowful face, like she was about to deliver some bad news. “Until now, being second in rank meant nothing compared to the Emperor, so for Raven it didn’t mean anything. She hoped that mating the third in rank would give her the power to be closer to my mate.”

Yako gulped, already knowing where this was going.

“Until now?” she managed to say in a whisper.

“Yes. Now your Neuro is second, with the power of the weaving on his side. You gave him that power, dear.”

“M-Me? But I am human!”

“And so am I, Katsuragi Yako. Tell me, are you able to summon the Tools?” Yako nodded, “Do you feel the energy inside of your body? Can you hear the conversations on the other room?”

Yako blinked thinking that obviously she couldn’t do that, but there was a quiet murmur on the borders of her mind, something that if she could focus long enough she could make up the words.

“I… I guess so?”

Gabrielle smirked.

“I was once like you, honey. I came here a long time ago without knowing what would become of me. I left a warring kingdom only to find something worse. There was death and horrifying demons everywhere,” she sighed. “There were some records of human-demon matings back then, but almost everything was a myth. I was sure I was going to die, everyone was sure of it too, but my mate and I did the weaving anyways. And everything changed.” For a brief moment, Gabrielle’s eyes held a faraway look and a spark of power that complimented her striking blue eyes, making Yako wonder what really happened so long ago.

“How so?” the sound of her creaking voice snapped the Empress out of her daze.

“It’s a story for another time, but it was then that my mate killed his father and became the Emperor.”

“What?” Yako’s heart was beating so fast she could feel it on her throat.

“You see, my mate was ranked second back then but the power of the weaving gave him what he needed to overcome the current Emperor,” her smile suddenly turned sad, “like with you and your Neuro.”

Ba-dump.

“Are you trying to tell me…” Gabrielle's smile widened and her eyes shone dangerously. It was the first time that Yako felt real fear next to the woman. It was something deep and raw, an unconscious feeling in her gut. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

“Indeed, my dear Katsuragi Yako. If the Brain Eater wanted, he could become the next Emperor right now.”

In the next beats of her heart Yako could feel everything finally be tied together; the fear on the Court room, the fake courtesy of Sakhmet, Raven’s outrage, Tantalus’s worried murmurs to her mate and the scared servant back on the corridor.

It was… heavy. She wasn’t ready for this.

She watched Gabrielle's expression and pondered what was the next step to take.

Why was the woman telling her all of this? If it was true, then her mere existence was a threat to her position and life. Was she going to kill her? But if she wanted, then she would have done it before, Yako was sure of that.

Still, she wanted to know.

“Why are you doing this?” Why are you warning me? she thought.

“Because I really don’t want you to die, dear.” The mesmerizing woman smiled like she hadn’t said something so horrible. “I really like talking to you. I told you already, it can be quite boring being the only human around.”

“Then you aren’t angry?”

“Why would I?” she simply said, her smile still in place, “I know you didn’t came here for power and the Brain Eater never was one of responsibilities. The logical conclusion is to help you both get out of here in one piece before everyone in Hell kills you to get the power.”

“Because there’s people that doesn’t agree with the current arrangement of things?” Yako ventured.

“Exactly.”

“I see…” Yako whispered and turned back to the beautiful flowers in front of them. She felt so small and yet so powerful. This was way bigger than what she expected and for a moment she considered how it would be like living like Gabrielle as the Empress here in Hell. She would feel so powerful all the time, people would bow down as she passed by them…

But she knew her place wasn’t here being feared and respected. She liked her world and her human friends. And the cases too, even if from time to time they’d encounter a nasty human that seemed more dangerous than Raven herself. She liked the normalcy that came with humanity.

“Nah,” she finally said not realizing she was speaking out loud, “this isn’t for me.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” the blonde woman by her side smiled when Yako blushed.

“But I’d want to come back to visit you. Maybe you would like to visit us Above…?” but she hadn’t finished talking when beautiful Gabrielle was shaking her head with a sad expression. The message was clear: she could not leave.

Yako wondered why, but she pushed the thought back into her mind. Meddling with the Emperor’s affairs wasn’t a good idea.

“On other less... gruesome matters, have you got anything special planned?” the detective blinked slowly.

“For what?” Yako asked not having any idea what she was talking about.

“For your Neuro’s birthday! Today is the 334th day of the 16th month in Hell. I still celebrate birthdays despite how hard is to keep track of the time down here.”

Yako blinked again, not really expecting this. The change of topic hit her like a brick thrown at her head.

Was it seriously Neuro’s birthday?

“Huh?”

“Yes, yes!” Gabrielle seemed way too excited for this. “You’ll have to excuse me, but demons don’t usually value things like this. My dear mate always forgets about his and I try to do something new each cycle.”

“Neuro never told me it was his birthday today.”

“Shame. I thought he chose this day because of that,” the blonde sighed. “Still, have you thought about any special plan for today?”

The detective felt the gears working full time on her now developed mind, but nothing coherent came from the stream of thoughts going at full speed. She had to work on focusing on just one thought at the same time.

“Erm… No?”

Gabrielle fake-gasped, her tiny smile hidden behind one pale hand.

“Then, my dear, I think we have much to talk about.”

*** 

She wasn’t afraid. Not that this was something she usually did, but it wasn’t exactly new. For Pete’s sake! Neuro was her husband and they had been courting for quite a while already. His body and his mind, both were known grounds for her at this time.

But still, watching her body dressed in only a see-through negligée and panties didn’t help her calm her nerves. This was it. Their first night as a married, mated couple. The first one in forever. And it was the night when they would do the real final ritual for the mating process… the actual mating.

Sex didn’t scare her. Even saying the word out loud, something that a mere year ago she wouldn’t have been able to do, wasn’t new to her. She was a healthy adult woman with a healthy sex life with her boyfriend - now mate/husband-, and doing this didn’t scare her. It enticed her. Excited her.

No, what scared her was her body’s reaction to all of this. She didn’t feel like herself but at the same time she did, like she had unlocked a part of herself that hadn’t been there before; like she had become something that was her and even more. A silly part of her was scared that Neuro wouldn’t like what he would see, that he wanted to mate a human and what she had transformed into after all of this wasn’t what he wanted-

Gosh. Was she just being stupid, right?

She had her husband on the other side of the door, probably half naked and partially turned on, ready to do with her body a lot of things until morning came. She wanted this. She wanted him. And was sure that he wanted her back.

This whole thing was about trusting your partner, right?

Yako sighed and checked every inch of her body once again, making sure she had got rid of every hair when she shaved a while ago. It was silly as he had seen her in all states of hair growth, but she really wanted to do this, at least tonight.

When she was satisfied with what she saw, the probably-not-human-anymore adjusted her panties’ rubber band on her hips and took a deep breath before opening the shoji door of the adjacent bathroom of the room the Emperor had lent them for the mating ritual. It was a quiet and secluded place, away from where life was made in the Palace, so they would have as much privacy as someone like Neuro could.

Still, nothing of that mattered that night. Because then only he and her existed. And by the smirk on Neuro’s face and the ropes and scary looking objects spread all over the western-style bed on the center of the room, tonight was going to be something worth remembering.