#also the fruit fly corpses are there to begin with

[goron-king-darunia]

IRL Achievement GET: Last Resort: "So it's come to this?" Use vinegar and an old broom to clean the fruit fly corpses off the shower walls.

[0v3rcast]

Gnaw (4)

You stand at the precipice of Liyue. The land of Geo. The resting place of a corpse-god, the dragon Rex Lapis, and the home of Archon Zhongli.

Though some part of you hopes that they'll be less hostile, you can't help but feel that Liyue will simply be more of the same.

More suffering. More death.

But now you have a gift. A way to protect yourself. The symbol of one of your loyal creations, and a font of power from which to draw destructive energy. You are not alone. And you will not fall so easily.

You step through a boundary, a line between the nations, and the world changes. Suddenly, the sky does not feel so vast. The air feels thinner, and the ground beneath your feet feels... denser. More present. As though the soil and stone of Mondstadt was gravel.

You take a few moments to breathe, to aquaint yourself with lungs that go unaided by Anemo, and begin walking.

Somewhere in the distance lies the Stone Gate. You decide to avoid it and the people of Liyue as best you can.

You decide to experiment with the abilities you now have so you can defend yourself if need be.

First, you should probably learn to sense them, starting at the symbol upon your wrist.

After a minute of concentration, you feel the faintest twitch of static in your veins. The subtle hum of energy that now calls you home.

You move the energy sluggishly, slowly convincing it to travel along your veins, and it proceeds to gain speed.

By the end of your first hour of 'training', there is a storm in your chest, your heart pounding thunder down your ribs, your blood singing with voltaic power.

It feels good.

You are unaware that special organs are rapidly growing in your dermis and flesh to allow you to conduct electrical energy safely.

You are unaware of the way billions of neurons are rearranging themselves to make your use of this power instinctive.

You are unaware of the way your entire nervous system is editing itself, allowing you to pump your body full of electro energy without a cost to your health.

You are unaware that you could now shrug off chewing on a power plant generator's active primary circuit or that you would register lightning as nothing more than a mild annoyance.

What you are aware of is the ball of lightning hovering over your hand. You grin, victorious.

(Electro watches from their throne at the peak of existence, smug smile on their face.)

Your doppelgänger howls in agony as they carve a spiral into the space between their shoulderblades with a blade that oozes molten gold.

They cannot allow themselves to be discovered as a false God. To be revealed now would be a waste of all their work.

To lose the luxuries they rightfully deserve is so horrible a fate that they'd rather maim themselves to keep up the illusion.

Soon, their acolytes will arrive.

They command that their 'imposter' shall be killed on sight.

Five Archons obey.

(They do not notice the way their Gnosis begin to dim.)

You spend two weeks slowly navigating the terrain of Liyue and exploring your new abilities.

You've learned to weave the energy into your limbs to vastly speed them up. You've learned to push that energy into your nails and teeth, turning them into vicious claws and fangs.

You've learned to push the energy into your brain to increase your reaction time and slow the world around you to a crawl.

Days of travel are collapsed into mere hours as you become a purple-streaked blur that rushes across the terrain fast enough to run up cliff faces and across water.

...you've also had countless bloody noses and scraped limbs, gotten enough dirt in your mouth to fill a flowerpot, choked on a multitude of flying bugs, and nearly drowned trying to water-walk.

Fruit and vegetables are bountiful, but you can't quite shake the urge to find some new small creature and bite down into it and fill your mouth with delicious red-

No. You are better than your urges. You are a person, not an animal, no matter how tempting the idea is.

Unfortunately this peace does not last.

You run across a small patrol of Millelith members, each bearing a weapon of some sort.

"Fuck," you hiss, ducking into the treeline to hopefully avoid being found. It's too late.

One of them cries out in alarm, and the entire group is instantly alerted to your presence.

You learn from the orders their leader is barking that you are now to be slain on sight.

Spears are leveled in your direction, arrows are nocked and readied, clubs and greatswords rise.

You easily avoid the arrows, your body humming with electro energy, and the first to swing their blade at you is met with a spear of lightning through the brain, their body writhing violently at the end.

You dispel the spear and dodge a mace, giving the woman bearing it a blast of electrical energy straight to the face, turning her head to ash and instantly killing her.

An arrow slices your side as you toss the headless body away from you, and the wound immediately begins to sizzle as it mends in a golden scar.

You reach into the head of the archer from a distance and send a jolt of power into his brain, flash-frying nerves and swiftly ending his life.

You don't remember ever being as clumsy and slow as they are before you had Electro. Are humans this pathetic, or are the Millelith just awful?

Five more stand in your way.

You gather the charge within your gift and send it out as a bolt of raw electro energy.

The leader is hit, but does not die. They are instead surrounded by a potent magnetic field. The metal of their armor and the metal of their squadmates attract to each other, and they're slammed together.

The five of them struggle to part themselves, pathetically squirming in place. You put them out of their misery to save them the embarrassment.

As soon as that's done, the gravity of your actions hits you. You just killed eight people.

You're horrified - but they were going to kill you first, weren't they?

Should you feel horrified for defending yourself from people who wanted you dead?

...should you feel anything for these people? Some part of you still desperately clings to the idea that this is all some fucked-up dream or a game.

It ceases to matter when elemental energy erupts right in front of you, and Kequing lunges out of a teleport to cleanly slice off your head.

As your vision begins to blacken, and the world drifts away, you watch your headless body stagger backward a few steps and then drop.

"Maybe next time," you mutter without sound, as the darkness swallows you.

Deep purple blood oozes from the stump of your neck as every trace of your corpse disintegrates.

("I will put you back together, my maker," whispers the Abyss. "I will always put you back together.")

((Taglist:

@the-dumber-scaramouche @thatdeadaquarius @ssak-i @imyme20 @fried-lotud @acacla @itz-luna @iruiji @crierofirony @itsredactedlove @sweetsthetik @leafanonsforest @oxyotl @kkazuyass @featuredtofu @resident-cryptid @d4y-dr3am3r @crimson-ashes @red1sg0n3 @the-real-fandom-person @code-roevember @yourlocalsourwolf @rhoswen-drake @minimari415 @reversearrowhead

[tanadrin]

Would love to hear more about the functions of fantastical elements in magical realism vs. SFF!

so modern fantasy tends to be quite systematizing in how it treats magic, one of many different things i was gesturing at in this post. in magical realism, fantastical elements are rarely systematizable. they exist much as they might in epic, as a manifestation of heightened emotional consequences. a great example from One Hundred Years of Solitude is a section involving striking plantation workers at the operation of a thinly-veiled United Fruit Company. the army is called in as strikebreakers and the workers are massacred; all traces of the massacre are covered up, and one of the protagonists, escaping the massacre, only knows it really happened because he stumbles upon a freight train whose cars are filled with corpses. as he is escaping, it starts to rain.

the opening sentence of the next chapter is "It rained for four years, eleven months, and two days." this isn't pure metaphor, crucially. it really is raining, and a consequence of this rain is something you might expect: the town of macondo is overwhelmed with mold and damp, and begins to slowly disintegrate, in a way you might expect from a multi-year-long rainstorm. but it is also metaphor, because this is a manifestation of José Arcadio Segundo's grief and confusion, and for the dashed hopes of prosperity of Macondo itself, and it marks the beginning of the final act of the novel, where because of the tragic patterns of inescapable history, for which the story of macondo itself and the buendia family in particular is a microcosm, the world of the novel ultimately collapses in upon itself.

but this isn't a "magic system." there's no epistemologically tractable basis for the fantastical elements here: there are no ancient elven gods in the hills, or carefully worked out classifications of weather-magic. there are no wizards, and no dark lords. because our world does not have those things, and a key component of magical realism is that second part, "realism."

i don't wanna retype the whole thesis of Ian Watt's The Rise of the Novel: Studies in Defoe, Richardson, and Fielding here, but I will try to summarize effectively: everything we take for granted as the basic conventions of "realistic" fiction (fly-on-the-wall style narration, even when not in the first person, psychological interiority, prose, etc.) is part of a set of genre conventions as artificial as any other, which can be termed "realism," bc it is associated with stories about either the real world, or worlds meant to resemble it in most respects. all genre is porous at its frontiers, and there are precedents for the modern realist style stretching back to the Icelandic sagas and the classical Chinese novel (nonetheless with crucial differences), but realist fiction as we now utilize it starts basically with Don Quixote, and in English with, well, Defoe, Richardson, and Fielding.

modern fantasy fiction obviously uses these conventions, too; but fantasy fiction explicitly negotiates with the reader that it is taking place either in a world different from ours (albeit one assumed to be similar in most respects), or in our own world with explicit deviations. magical realism does not do this, at least not nearly as explicitly; rather, one hallmark of the magical realist style tends to be (there are exceptions, particularly in Borges; but Borges is sort of a non-central example in other ways, too) that the "magical" elements are treated as indistinguishable from the "realist" elements. so while a non-wizard in a Harry Dresden book will be shocked or surprised to learn magic exists in his version of "our" Chicago, in a magical realist text heightened or supernatural elements will intrude on the "real" world without comment most of the time.

really the term is a bit backwards; you could call it "realist magicalism" insofar as magical elements are frequently emotionally and narratively unexceptional.

and we can contrast this again, for further illumination of the issue, with merely literary fantasy and science fiction. so a literary SF novel like "Never Let Me Go" by Kazuo Ishiguro still explicitly negotiates with the reader the differences between its world and ours, despite taking place nominally in a version of ours; contrast the very magical realist (or even surrealist) "The Unconsoled," by the same author; or, for another example, a much more SF-like (though still pretty weird, it's Haruki Murakami) "Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World" vs the much more magical realist "Wind-Up Bird Chronicle" or "1Q84."

(Fantasy described as "literary" is a bit harder to find, I think because of cultural prejudice on the issue; but "literary fantasy" might include, for profitable contrast with magical realism, Watership Down, The Picture of Dorian Gray, the Gormenghast books, or Dhalgren, though the last two are definitely atypical examples of whatever genre you try to put them in. A lot of early horror, like The Turn of the Screw, or pre-Tolkien high fantasy, like Lord Dunsany's works, might qualify for various definitions of the term. They certainly have literary ambitions.)

Because no genre is an island, there are obviously going to be texts that straddle the margins. "House of Leaves" has strong elements of both horror and fantasy, but both are very difficult to systematize, and I think you could make a very good argument that it is also magical realist. Outright surrealist texts like "The Unconsoled" and "Finnegans Wake" are definitely going to tread this line as well, since the heightened, emotional narrative logic of magical realism is also a good fit for dream-logic as well. But suffice it to say, I think you have to be deeply underinformed, or just plain dumb as hell, to look at the most notable examples of what are called magical realism and its closest matches in the fantasy genre (which might be, what, urban fantasy?) and go, "oh, yeah, these are clearly doing the same thing on the level of narrative structure."

[phantom-does-a-thing]

hey u should talk abt ur world and worldbuilding n all that. the people want to know

I do not think the people want to know about my silly little fantasy world. But you invite me to talk about my world and talk I shall.

So first off, society if I could dm a dnd campaign bc I absolutely would dm this as a campaign bc I actually wrote it with that in mind (but I don't know how to play dnd. so).

anyway. It's a world of like floating islands, and MOST creatures or races are flying, flying adjacent or have some sort of wing or magic structure to allow them to fly. Bc. yknow. Floating islands. There's like a few layers of the floating islands how it is, some are above or below the clouds. I wrote in the notes that the "government is strict but not oppressive" so take that as you will. I don't want to explain the government system or how it works bc I actually put very little thought so far into the actual islands.

"The upper islands are full of rich and blooming flora of many different colors and shapes. The leaves are fluffy and cloud-like and full of life and fun. The islands are suspended in the air by types of ancient and very unknown magic that people still have not figured out the origins to this day." Fruits and plants bloom year round and there aren't really seasons on the islands, it's mostly pretty consistent. I also don't think it could rain on the upper islands bc they're above the clouds.

However, this would be the main conflict of the story. The floating islands are beginning to fall. No one knows why, people can't explain why the magic that has sustained them for so long is suddenly failing and whole towns and cities are being wiped off the map. Because once an island falls, nothing from it is recovered, not even the people that used to live there. Contamination or whatever, they don't like or really know what's on the surface. The government is trying to hide this. They don't want to cause mass hysteria because of all the issues that it causes, so yknow, propaganda or whatever idk.

I also just have the note "sky leviathans" with nothing else under it and I don't remember the context but yeah. There's sky leviathans. I'm normal about that.

A small bit of religious lore is that they respect and worship their gods like very very respectfully. Like very devout, very much if you disrespect the gods you will die.

Anyway. Now for the surface. my special little baby bc I have so many thoughts about the surface. First off. It has like megaflora, megafauna, very prehistoric. VERY uninhabitable. And when I say like megaflora. there is not much flora at all tho. Like it is barren but any plants n stuff are gonna be MASSIVE. The bugs are also really big. There isn't a lot of food on the surface either, so it's very hard to survive.

It's kind of like a civilization after a nuclear fallout, or some sort of corruption, all the creatures there are mutated and corrupted and things are really weird in the surface. It's full of very, very dangerous monsters. My favorite is what I called a Blitz which is just a gigantic centipede like 8-9 feet tall super super long idk numbers is 40 feet a lot? I dont know. Longer than that maybe. It is incredibly fast and incredibly deadly. There's also massive messed up deer. I like messed up deer.

In comparison to the religion of the islands, the civilizations on the surface don't really "worship" gods necessarily but their civilizations are made out of the corpses of long dead gods. Most of the civilizations are not actually on the surface, rather they are underground in tunnels bc it's safer that way rather than being on the surface directly.

Found this in my notes: "Giant snakes big enough to pull down dying islands. snakes big enough to launch themselves towards the island they miss usually but as the power keeping the islands floating weakens and they sink the snakes can get closer" like. Okay. Yeah. Big snakes.

Another piece of lore I found is the way I wrote Basilisks and creatures that feed off of love and warmth, they live DEEP in the underground like if we translate it to the ocean, like this would be a deep ocean type creature, they are rarely seen bc they rarely come to the surface. They are highly intelligent. The Keeper is one of the more famously known ones, they guard the shallow tunnels and "guide" lost people out of the caves. I love The Keeper <3

idk that's all the worldbuilding I could think of rn from skimming through my notes <3 I am very obsessed with this world and I hold it so near and dear to my heart. <333333

[senatushq]

Thanatos

NAME/ALIASES. Anubis, Mors, Letum, Inpu, Anoup,  AGE & BIRTH DATE. Prehistoric & Unknown SPECIES. Aspect GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him or He/They AFFILIATIONS. UTP OCCUPATION. UTP

History

The Duat. The Underworld. To the ancients the realm of the dead was reserved for the Old Gods and their undying vessels. To them, it was Álfheimr, the land of the dark elves. Birthed to hold the scales of the divine, to hold respectable order in the name of the Graeae. Thanatos was a spiteful God, one who resented the defilement of the Great Old Ones and the Elder Gods who evaded death with their slumbering Uthenera. It was Thanatos who would discern the worth of their actions, whether they were deserving of rest, or if they were to return to the cosmos, to be reconsecrated in another essence. Wars of Gods and deities saw the safeguards of vessels take place, ancient elves turned to farms, gardens of fruit for the Great Old Ones and Elder Gods to sample to keep their eternal conflict in place. Thanatos wardened over death, while his twin brother Hypnos determined the length of Uthenera, the period of time in which a God was fated to recover before their power was permitted to return. Removed from conflict, balance was all that Thanatos cared for, celestial equity that would decree that in due time all things were fated to end so that another beginning might start anew. Even the infinity of the ancient elves was finite, Hyperborea fell, and Eden was crafted, bathed under the light of the Two Trees, it was said that wherever Thanatos treaded no light would follow, and so he was forbidden from stepping foot within the garden. Death held at bay, he watched from outside the pearly gates as the rebellion of angels inevitably swept over the garden of the Gods. 

Divine children came into fruition, the avariel that would go by Hermes and later Mercury among them. A planeswalker who could go where even Gods could not, his nature was more useful as a messenger than that of a vessel. He brazenly threaded through the dark of Álfheimr, pushed Thanatos into Elysium, Elysia, the Isle of the Blessed, and through the mortal realm. Mortals, as it happened, were something of a fixation of the chthonic dark elf, their lives were short and finite, but they were the punishment for the Gods’ hubris, and that was perhaps why the divine toyed with them as often as they did. Allowed monsters and demons to flourish so that more of their demigods could be born. The trio of Tiamat, Ayi’ig, and Pythia invoked a dark and ancient power, created from the seed of inception that put into the hands of mortals an unnatural magic. Defilement of the natural order, the necronomicon, like any living creature, is also fated to die. Gods of old have begun to awaken, Cronus from his eternal prison has been released, and yet another war is waking. An end will come, perhaps the last. Greedy for those he has seized, Thanatos with his iron heart is resolved to not let those he holds go: reincarnation is to be broken, the seraphim are to meet their end, and the Gods, too, will greet his brother for the final time. 

Connections

Hypnos: Brothers born in Álfheimr, divine creatures raised on ambrosia, caretakers of the dead Gods and those slumbering in Uthenera. From Nyx, Thanatos and Hypnos were both born, and someday will return. 

Níðhöggr: Once companions of Álfheimr,  Níðhöggr betrayed his sacred oath and was cast into the shadow realm beneath the roots of the world tree where he would fly above the shore of corpses. 

Trivia: Creator of abominations, Trivia’s family burned because of Tisiphone and her sisters: Trivia’s magic defies a natural order as she has repeatedly plucked people from the domain of the dead.

Abilities

Immortal: Undying, as a dark elf Thanatos is immune to the passage of time, he will never get sick, grow old, or truly die.

Death: Aware when a person is fated to die, and if he chooses he can reverse or expedite the process.

Álfheimr: Able to manipulate the realm of the dark elves and slumbering gods, to this end he’s able to use this magic to cast spells.

Psychopomp: knows everything happening within the afterlife at any given time and is able to travel between them at will.

Weaknesses

Divine: Incapable of telling a lie.  

Wrought: Iron will burn him, it’s one of the few metals capable of piercing his skin.

Godly: If Thanatos’ body is destroyed he will need to find one to possess.

Elven: A seraph blade through the heart will kill him, sending him into Uthenera.

THIS SKELETON IS CURRENTLY CLOSED.

[thatwildnya]

another one?! last one of the day y'all~

drake s/o with period teeth

in light of me having to get my wisdom teeth removed, i have decided to make these

context: you’re a drake fae whose teeth fall out about every few months to make way for newer, healthier chompers. the drawback? it’s extremely painful and you become aggravated and grumpy.

Savannaclaw Pomefiore edition

tw: teeth, muzzling, rook

Leona

“ughhhhhh this such a pain you’re annoying enough as is” he says as he carefully wipes blood off your mouth with a cool rag, massaging gently

buys the best painkillers in the world he’s got money don’t worry about it

he hates putting the muzzle on you not bc it requires effort

it’s gives the impression that you’re an animal in need of taming

at some point you end up biting his bicep and just start gently gnawing

now he doesn’t need to muzzle you as often he just offers his delicious muscles and you chomp down like a teething kitten

thinks it’s kinda cute but you won’t hear it from him

Ruggie

feels so bad he can’t be with you as much as he would like

he’s got so many jobs and he needs the money

of course you understand but he still feels bad

to make it up to you he cooks food for you that will last the whole day

uses his unique magic when you begin your pawing to put on the muzzle

at night he spoils you with massages and soft fruits

invites you to go swimming in his dorm’s pool to distract you

Jack

make way for the tsun tsun wolf he’s got you covered

not only lets you nibble his muscles but goes out to buy you special toys made for beastman infants that are in their teething phase

at first he tries to distract you with physical activity and quickly regrets it

and no it’s not because you’re whining it’s bc it hurts to move your body quickly

confiscates any food and drinks that will get you energized

you need to relax so it’s best to steer clear of sugary foods

also invites you to go swimming

Vil

is hiding all his clothes and pillows you are not getting ahold of his babies no sir

does not feel about about the muzzle you are not destroying his clothes period

does the dramatic evil queen walk to his private lab in the dorm to make homemade painkillers

uses unique magic to place a curse on your muzzle to appear with a special command only he knows

he understands you’re hurting so he lets the extra ice cream and ramen slide past his gaze

spa day everyday until you’re finished honey we are doing face masks and bubbles baths galore

if rook’s… presence is making you agitated he orders him to stay away so you’re not annoyed but mostly because now he’s not in danger of becoming a corpse-

Rook

oh dear, his poor beloved ange! do not fret, the hunter of love is on his way!

only gets 27 seconds to be dramatic before you send a vase flying past his cheek barely missing

okay he gets the message no theatricks if he wants to get through this unscathed

club time is spent making painkillers and potions that lull you into a calm trance

insists you gnaw on his muscles it makes his heart soar through the clou-///slapped

can tell when you’re getting antsy and suggests you wrestle

now he too in pain you broke his foot jesus crispy

still thinks it’s beautiful 100 points

Epel

while he does feel bad about the muzzle he’s also proud that he can wrestle it on

you are not small, especially when you’re half way turned into your drake form

he grabs your horns and wraps his legs around your upper body while you thrash

keeps you company whenever he can and puts on mellow country music

pays extra attention in classes you struggle with if any when taking notes

hates his arms are too skinny for you to gnaw on safely so he carves apples and places a spell that makes it hard to break them for you instead

now you have a tasty chew toy

[slipper007]

p ☀️art museums: what’s your favourite museum, or type of museum? 💕💕

☀️art museums: what’s your favourite museum, or type of museum? (doing this)

Word Count: 1,864

Also on AO3 [masterpost]

Two years after the world didn’t end, Team Free Will 3.0 started traveling.

They didn’t always stick together, or even stay in the United States (Sam and Eileen made the trip to Ireland), but they knew they all still had a home in the Bunker.

It was simultaneously freeing and terrifying to be in control of their own fates, something that Sam, Cas, and Jack had all taken in stride. While Eileen struggled at times, Dean was the only one held back by it, as much as he tried not to be. The moment he had first realized that his life was not his own, he’d fought against it out of instinct and righteousness, but now that he had it…

As much as Castiel and his brother both assured him that he was who he was on his own terms, rather than whatever Chuck’s machinations had wanted to him to be, he worried he didn’t know himself. He was just as adrift as he had been in his teens and twenties, desperately trying to emulate his father in order to find a sense of self; as he had been freshly back from hell, violent and afraid of everything he had done and become; as he had been standing in that graveyard with God telling him to kill when he knew revenge wasn’t what his mother would have wanted and wasn’t what he truly wanted.

Castiel had told him in his confession, his brother in several passing speeches over a lifetime, and Dean himself had said it straight to God’s face, but was it true? Who or what was he outside of saving people and hunting things, outside of the narrative Chuck had constructed his entire lifetime?

The vastness of the question was enough to make anyone spiral, so he tried to avoid it.

Charlie helped when she came over. With Sam and Eileen abroad, and Cas all too willing to have deep conversations Dean wasn’t ready for as much as he loved him, she and Dean became closer. She had been staying at the Bunker for a time, not long after Jack and Billie brought her back. She, too, was finding it difficult to adjust to the new world they found themselves in – she had tried for a full year and a half to get her legs under her on her own, but the world had changed in the six years before she had been brought back. Even though she had managed to reinvent herself numerous times before, it was difficult. The Winchesters were more than willing to offer her a place to stay in the meantime.

It worked well for everyone, though it was particularly chaotic now that Sam and Eileen were taking a brief vacation abroad. Dean was constantly with his two best friends (one of whom was his lover), as well as Jack. Charlie and Cas had become close, something that Charlie had deemed “WLW/MLM solidarity” (neither Dean nor Cas knew what that meant). To Jack, Charlie had taken the role of cool aunt, which was both wonderful and terrifying in equal regard, especially given that Jack was, at this point, back to being in a body his own age with his original powers rather than those of a god. The combination of a super-powered six-year-old and a nerdy LARP-enthusiast was certainly an interesting one, especially given how their energies fed and built on each other’s.

It was this merry band that found themselves inside an art museum one hot August afternoon.

Charlie and Dean wandered the lower gallery for a short while as Castiel took Jack through a more kid-focused section, and for a time they wandered in silence.

“So how are you today?”

“You live with me,” Dean responded, only to be faced with a shrug. “How are you?”

“Today’s been good,” Charlie said with transparency. “I woke up again. Started sewing more of my Triss costume – from The Witcher video games, not the show, you know? Now I get to hang out with friends and see some pretty cool art. Maybe I’ll apply for another job today, or bake some bread, or we can finish getting me all caught up on Game of Thrones.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Dude, spoilers!” She looked straight to him, and Dean shook his head. “Anyway, you’re dodging the question by asking about my awesome life. Not cool, so spill.”

Dean sighed as he walked by another painting of fruit. “I don’t know, Charlie. Could be better, could be worse.”

“Figured out who Dean Winchester is yet?”

“Do any of us truly know who we are?” Dean quipped back.

“Really?”

“Lil’ existentialism never killed anyone,” Dean said with a shrug. “But no, not yet. It’s all still just a big…mess…of what’s him and what’s me.”

“Well, here’s a start for you: Dean Winchester is my friend, and always will be, regardless of whatever some crack writer says.”

“Pretty sappy, but I’ll take it.”

“Shut up.”

Dean Winchester is a friend.

When Cas and Jack rejoined the pair a little later, they all wandered up to the 12th to 19th century European gallery. Jack and Charlie broke away when they came across the tapestries. Castiel, however, was drawn to a painting a little further in. The gallery was still and quiet as Dean joined him.

“St. Sebastian, huh?” Dean said, reading the label. “Know him?”

“My memory of 200 BCE is muddled at best,” Castiel said. “I don’t think so. The painting is beautiful, though, if tragic.”

Dean looked at it again, trying to see what Castiel saw. A beautiful mouth was twisted in pain as arrows lodged in the body, unstoppable. The arms were contorted and restrained, rendering punishment inescapable. The eyes were wide and dark, looking upwards as if begging for divine intervention that would never come.

In it, he saw himself. He saw his struggles with faith in a higher power, with the needless suffering he and his little family had been put through. He saw his loss, his fear, the control he lost when he realized he would never be free from Chuck. What he didn’t see was the anger.

Beyond that, however, he saw Castiel. He saw Cas’ expression when the Mark had worn Dean down, when he had thrown Cas to the floor along side the corpses of the Stynes. It was the same loss, the same fear. The expression was akin to brokenness yet not shattered. He was still faithful, still true. It was the same look on his face when he had confessed in the dungeon. Beautiful but tragic.

What had Dean ever done to deserve that resoluteness, that level of trust in spite of the fear.

“I’m sorry,” he started, words catching in his throat. How did he even begin to make up for all he had done? Yet, it was as if Cas had read his mind. Hell, he was an angel. Maybe he just knew.

Castiel turned to him, a familiar softness in eyes not tainted by pain or prayer for intervention. Dean could lose himself in the deep blue seas.

“You’re forgiven. You’ve been forgiven.”

They stood side by side, listening to Jack’s squeals of joy only a room over, for several minutes before Castiel spoke again.

“You’re unsure of who you are,” Castiel said. It was a fact they both knew, even as Dean started to protest the topic. “I’ve already told you what I think, but let me remind you. You’re the single most loving person I have ever known. You love in spite of Chuck. You care about this broken world, even when it seems hopeless. You always have.” He paused for a long moment before saying, “In plainest terms, you’re a lover, not a fighter.”

“I don’t know about that one. Can’t I be both?”

Castiel let out a long-suffering sigh at that before wandering away to look at the other paintings.

Dean stayed by the painting of St. Sebastian for another few minutes, trying to see what Castiel saw in it before hearing Jack call for him a little way away, his high, childish voice carrying through the halls.

Dean Winchester is a lover.

Downstairs, there was a special exhibition on the history of dance. Jack practically dragged Dean in, his eyes wide and excitement palpable. Charlie and Castiel laughed and promised to catch up in a few minutes – Charlie wanted to grab a print of an art piece from the museum store. Dean and Jack wandered from exhibit to exhibit, looking at everything from classic vinyl to tap shoes. Despite the artifacts and objects, news clippings and sound bites, Jack was fascinated by a video of people swing dancing projected on the wall.

“What’s up, kid?”

“I wish I could do that.”

“You can,” Dean said. “You just have to do what they’re doing.”

Jack looked up to him, eyes wide and a broad grin starting to cross his face.

“Will you show me?”

It took a little bit of practice, and they missed more of the moves than they got, even with Jack standing on Dean’s shoes, but they both enjoyed what they were doing, which made it worth it. Jack’s smile as he danced up to Charlie and Castiel a few minutes later made it all the more precious.

“Come dance with us!” he called out before rushing back over to where Dean still stood.

“Having fun?” Cas asked as

“Cas!” Jack called. “Come on, come on, come on!”

Castiel smiled and shook his head before turning to Charlie and taking her hands. They instantly fell into sync with the video, matching the moves in perfect synchronicity. Dean felt himself stop in shock as Castiel flipped Charlie over his shoulder as if it was no great feat.

“Woah, when did you learn to dance like that?”

“I do have some memories of watching humanity. I was even on Earth when this dance was invented.”

“And I took dance lessons a few years ago,” Charlie offered by way of explanation.

“I guess we’ll just have to up our game, huh Jack?”

Jack giggled, his gap-toothed smile looking all the more excited. They busted out a few new moves, even improvising for a while.

“Dude, you dance like a dad!” Charlie laughed, twirling Castiel as she did so.

Dancing there in the museum, Jack on his feet as Castiel and Charlie watched on, Dean came to a final realization of the day.

Dean Winchester is a father.

As the day drew to a close, the group started to head out. Jack clung to Dean’s back, wiped out after a long day of dancing and wandering the museum. He watched the birds fly overhead in the golden light as they wandered to the car. Cas took the backseat with Jack, who promptly fell asleep.

“This was fun,” Charlie said, setting the bag with her art print on the seat between her and Dean. “It’d been a while since I’d gone out like this.”

It had been fun. It was nice to enjoy the world rather than save it.

Even if he was still working on figuring out who he was, Dean finally felt content.

[moonlightlullaby]

no celebrations?

summary: Corpse and reader celebrate his birthday in the most chill way. Based on this lovely request (ty again for sending it!) 

pairing: corpse husband x gn! reader

category: fluff

warnings: food ingestion; alcohol ingestion; loads of physical touch (let me know if I forgot to mention anything)

A/N: Hello (: This is such a lovely concept, I just couldn’t wait to get started hehe Also, I got a bit carried away and just went with it, so I’m really sorry if that’s not what you’d pictured. I do hope you enjoy it tho <3 Take care!

word count: 2.4k

Masterlist

Walking into our shared bedroom, I catch the sight of Corpse exiting the bathroom. As our eyes lock, my lips curl up tiredly and a long sigh I didn’t even know I’ve been holding finally frees itself. He sits on the edge of our bed and extends his hand to me. When I take it, he pulls me so I stand in the space between his legs.

“How was the day?” he asks with both of his hands on my waist. 

I hum, quirking a brow and tilting my head a bit “At least tomorrow - you know, the most unspecial, completely ordinary day of the year -” this earns a giggle from my boyfriend “is Sunday and I can just ignore all of that” I wave my hand in the direction of the adjacent room, where my laptop - filled with texts, assignments, spreadsheets and appointed Zoom calls - is. 

At my words, Corpse wraps his arms around my figure, pulls my body even closer to him and plants a kiss on my stomach through my shirt. My hands, in turn, caress his upper back and soft hair. 

Coming in contact with the string of his eyepatch in the process, I lean back slightly, which causes him to shoot up at me with a small frown and pouty lips. He sits still, though, as I carefully remove his eyepatch, and, while his eyes are still closed, I give each of his lids a peck. He smiles and tilts his head up to meet my lips in a long, tender and effortless kiss. Oh finally.

The idea of quarantining together was welcomed as a blessing by both of us. It meant more time spent together after all. However, with my school and work demands and Corpse’s irregular schedule, we still barely see each other throughout the day in spite of being a few feet apart from one another. And when bedtime rolls in, we’re both so exhausted all we can do is mumble words that could be counted in the fingers of one hand before drifting off. This, of course, when my boyfriend doesn’t stay up until dawn working. Don’t get me wrong, I’m his number 1 fan and admire his passion and all the hard work he puts in everything he sets his mind to, but I’m also not going to lie and say I don’t miss his warmth at night. Hence I want to devote this Sunday to him.

After a while, I break the silence “I’ll be right back.”

I let go of his hold and take my turn to use the bathroom. After doing my night routine, brushing my teeth and getting into my cozy pajamas, I walk back in the dark room and lie down, settling myself back in Corpse’s hug like two puzzle pieces matching together.

~~~~~

The excitement for a new day - not any day, no, but August 8th - washes over me as soon as I open my eyes and get a glimpse of the sleepy boy next to me. 

A couple of minutes go by as I contemplate on getting up, torn between prolonging our cuddling for some more and doing something to show Corpse my appreciation for him. The latter wins and I, cautious not to wake him up, slowly unwrap my arms from him and step out of the bed. Drawing the curtains to make sure the summer daylight doesn’t disturb his peaceful state of mind, I make my way out of the room and to the kitchen. 

Wondering what to make for breakfast, I take a good look around until my eyes catch the plethora of fruits we’ve bought a few days ago. Fruit salad it is. 

Corpse has, for as long as we’ve known each other, made it very clear he isn’t too fond of his anniversary and similar celebrations - and, even if he hadn’t explained it to me, it’s rather evident how uncomfortable they make him. This year, his friends’ and especially his fans’ hype for the date - although unintentionally - has added an extra layer of unease to it all, to which I don’t intend to contribute.

Even though I don’t want to make matters worse and would never overstep his boundaries like this (because, thankfully, I’m not Betty Cooper and he isn’t Jughead Jones), I still want to celebrate Corpse. I want to celebrate his birth and his existence, which I’m immensely grateful for. He’s both the best friend I can confide in blindly and the lover I want to share my lifetime with. He sticks to his truth and dreams higher than I could ever imagine. He turns the darkness in the world and in his mind into light with his words and with his laugh. Having him in my life is one of the best things to ever happen to me and seeing him fly makes me more proud than I can put into words. 

There’s a lot to toast to, so the solution is a celebration that is so smooth and so chill - the smoothest and most chill possible - that it doesn’t even feel like one. Just log off and enjoy a laid back day together.

As I chop a kiwi and make a mental list of fun and uncomplicated things we can do that don’t require much time and many skills, in walks Corpse, in an old white tee which is one too many sizes bigger than him and in his black sweatpants. He rubs his eyes and lets a raspy “good morning”.

“Mornin- wow! They really weren’t lying when they said when you hit 24, hotness knocks at your door”

He chuckles and shakes his head “No one’s said that”

“Well, then consider yourself the muse of a new proverb, baby”

He scrunches up his nose in response before grabbing the cup of orange juice I’d placed on the counter and taking a gulp. 

“Thank you” he turns my face and gives me an orange-flavoured kiss, neither of us having ever really cared about morning breath. 

“For calling you hot? Oh save it to when I’m done with the list of cheesy compliments I have for you” I take a grape and before I can get it in my mouth, he steals it, with wrinkles on the corner of his eyes.

“Then we’d be here for eternity!” he’s not wrong.

Corpse helps me put the fresh fruits in bowls and, with them and our juice cup in hand, we head to the balcony. Sitting next to each other, we calmly eat, take in the light blue sky and the cars and passersby changing the scenery ahead of us. Conversation flows naturally.

As we empty our bowls - after stealing many bits from each other -, I twist in my seat and face him “Hey, Corpse, do you see this?” I point to the very prominent and familiar dark circles under my eyes. “Wanna help me get rid of them?” I ask, knowing damn well it’d take a lifetime for them to actually go away and not giving up regardless.

~~~~~

The bathroom is filled with chatter and laughter and the sink, with hair clips, scrunchies, a sharpie, bowls, hair products and a towel. Corpse hisses as our cool homemade face mask comes in contact with his skin. His curly hair is pushed back and held by a blue hairband and I apply the mask to his face, making sure not to leave any spots uncovered. Well, that’s what I’m trying to do, which becomes an unnecessarily challenging task when my lovely partner can’t be still for more than two seconds. 

He kept switching between dancing to Soulmate, by Mac Miller, and mouthing its lyrics. Now that I got him - after a small threat that I wouldn’t hesitate putting this weird mix we made in his pretty mouth - to keep his lips together, the (adorable, admittedly) swaying, however, continues. He stops momentarily, only to shuffle things around right after.

Something cold touches my skin, making it my turn to let out a hiss this time. The sound is accompanied by a small jump, caused by the surprise. Corpse chuckles and, when I glance at the spot on my arm the cold thing came in contact with, I realize it’s just the sharpie. All he does is give me a mischievous smile.

While I keep massaging his face and covering it with the mask, Corpse litters my body with his drawings. Smiley faces, lightning bolts, hearts, clouds... his repertoire is vast and any exposed skin he can find becomes his canvas. Each line causing me to giggle and shudder a little. With him focused on his creations, it’s 10 times easier for me to complete my task. 

“Alright, my turn” he states, smiling, and I’m quick to grab the sharpie. 

As he adjusts a matching hairband on my head, I put a dainty heart on his neck. And, as he takes the bowl in his hands, I swiftly plant a kiss on top of the drawing. At this, he sighs in content and my chest gets warmer.

I soon understand how hard it was for him to stay still as Stay comes on and all I want to do is have a little karaoke session and dance. Corpse entertains himself with my struggle and, because it’s his birthday, I’ll let it slide. So, to make the whole process easier, instead of focusing on the song, I focus on the gorgeous face in front of me. A beautiful face to a beautiful soul. 

One of the various perks of sharing an apartment with Corpse is I get to see this face in all ways: sleepy, completely clean - no makeup, no mask -, all wrinkled in the morning, red when he’s embarrassed or when he laughs too hard… His laughter. Its sound pulls me from my trance “You’re staring, y/n” 

“Well, at least I wasn’t moving around, Corpse” I reply with squinted eyes and nudge his side playfully. 

We begin collecting the things scattered across the sink and storing them in the cabinet, and the song comes to an end, giving way to Dang!

“How long do we keep these on?” 

I hum at the question and check the playlist on shuffle on my phone “How does 5 minutes and 2 seconds sound?” 

Facing him, his grin mirrors mine and he spins me around. We laugh and allow ourselves to be as goofy as possible, jamming and moving our limbs around with a green paste on our faces.

~~~~~

After washing off the masks in the shower and painting our nails - so we’re both rocking the black nail polish look -, we’ve set our minds to - finally - finish the puzzle we started two months ago. It’s a 90’s anime setting inspired composition and we’d gotten about 40% of it done before our schedules got more hectic and the game, well, pushed aside. For weeks, the pieces sat on the ground of our living room and silently judged us every time either of us stepped to the side, as we crossed the room, in order not to crush them.

Sitting around the puzzle with comfy clothes, we team up against it and indulge in the wine Corpse’s got us and the hawaiian pizza I’ve ordered. 

As the picture comes more and more to life, moments of comfortable silence and of chattery - when we talk about anything from our shopping list and gossip about our neighbours’ lives to parallel universes and the matrix - follow one another. A different playlist on shuffle is our background noise. 

Time flies and the sun’s already hidden when it clicks to us that there are only 5 pieces left. Each piece is fitted in the whole with a giddier feeling than the previous. Corpse picks the last one - deep blue with purple and black specks - and turns to me with an excited smile and an eager gaze that I’m sure are mirrored on my face. I nod encouragingly. He places it in the puzzle and celebratory sounds fill the room.

Corpse stretches his arms and pulls me in a hug, but, since we’re both kneeling and because of the distance between us, we end up falling and lying on the ground in rather uncomfortable positions. 

“Come on, puzzle, that was easy breezy! Gotta step up your game if you really wanna challenge this duo right here!”

“Oh for sure!” Corpse squeaks as we laugh at our nonsensical brag.

After a moment while we catch our breath, he rubs my back and speaks, pulling my attention to him “Not that I’m not loving this position, but what if we watched some Drag Race?”

Is this man real? If I couldn’t feel his heart beating under me or his arms around my figure, I’d be sure he’s just a figment of my imagination. “But it’s your b- don’t you wanna choose something you like more? Li-” 

“Nope,” he boops my nose “Drag Race, or maybe Love Island, would be great right now.” And people still dare say the perfect man doesn’t exist!

“You’re such a dream!” I give him a quick peck before continuing “Ok, so I put on the show and you get more wine…?” He hums in approval and stands up. Our eyes briefly jump from each other to the puzzle and back to each other, then we simply nod. A silent agreement to leave the puzzle here. We’re both too lazy to put all the pieces back in the box and too proud of our achievement to let it go just yet; besides, everything’s been sitting here for about two months, what are a few more hours?

He steps to the side, gets our glasses and makes his way to the kitchen. I lie on the couch and scan Netflix for Drag Race. Corpse comes back, placing the glasses next to the couch, and gently lies down on top of me. He nests his head on my chest and we both hum contently.  

While RuPaul announces what the winner’s prize will be, I play with his hair, letting my fingers knead his curls. His right hand flies up to meet mine and I bring our intertwined hands to my lips, peppering his knuckles with kisses. The gesture is cut by a loud laugh that escapes my lips as miss Vanjie Mateo’s iconic moment replays on the screen. 

“Hey,” Corpse’s voice makes me look right back at him “I love you. You know that, right?”

My heart melts at his words and at the way he’s looking at me right now. I nod with a smile.

“I love you too, birthday boy.”

[shyficwriter]

Temporary Home: Chapter 12

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: You want to make a run into town, but you're forced to take one of the Guardians with you if you want to leave. Guess who get's the pleasure of annoying you? If that wasn't bad enough, someone decides to show up at your door...

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: For my records, this is day 17 of the Guardians living with reader.

Word Count: 6,751

"Where you going?"

You turned and looked towards the source of the voice, Peter's voice, coming from a door to the kitchen. You had just grabbed your keys from the kitchen counter and you were finishing up the short list on your phone.

Obviously you had intended to quickly run your errands the other day when you planned to take the raccoon corpse into town to be tested, but when Fury showed up having brought his own doctor and lab to test the raccoon on site, and also sentenced you to wearing your arm in a sling, you obviously hadn't done that.

It had been a couple days since then, you having wanted to get used to the sling a little bit before attempting to drive. You knew it still wasn't exactly the smartest thing to do, but you really wanted out of the house.

"Just running into town," you say, not paying him much mind.

"Why?" he asked, his tone weighting the word, almost as if he wanted to tell you that you weren't allowed.

You look up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Because I need to? Ya know, check the mail, pick some stuff up, post a few bills?" You knew it could all wait, and the bills could be paid online if you really needed to, but he probably didn't know that. "Unless you need something I really don't see what it is to you." You weren't meaning to sound like a dick, but he was acting weird. You didn't like his tone, and his weirdness was only emphasized when you start to approach the doorway to exit the kitchen but he didn't move.

His eyes briefly went to your arm in the sling-brace. "Don't you think you should be taking it easy?"

That's what it was. Knew it. You roll your eyes so hard one might think they'd get stuck. "I'm literally fine." You make a shooing motion but he still doesn't move. Sighing, you make your way toward the other door, only to hear him jogging up the hall to meet you there, the sound making you pause before completing the distance, rolling your eyes before continuing on to see he had indeed done just that. You awkwardly cross your good arm with the one in the sling. "Can I help you?" you say irritably.

Gamora entered the kitchen from the other doorway and you looked to her. "Can you please make your boyfriend stop being annoying?" you ask.

"I'm afraid that's impossible," she quipped with a slight smile, "Why? what's he doing now?"

By now Peter had entered the kitchen through the doorway he had been blocking. He ignored Gamora's quip about him being forever annoying and said, "She's trying to leave, I don't think it's a good idea."

"Well, lucky for me, you're not my boss," you say, admittedly a bit childishly.

Peter then donned a smug grin. "You're right. She is." He nodded in Gamora's direction, referring to the task Fury had assigned Gamora, essentially making her your babysitter as punishment for you neglecting to seek medical attention for your arm.

Your nostrils flared in irritation at him bringing it up and Gamora gave him a look that clearly stated she was uncomfortable. No one had mentioned the incident since the first day. You, because you didn't want to be reminded Fury was treating you like a child, and the others for pretty much the same reason, seeing no reason to provoke you, especially since you were seemingly behaving. (Again, aside from Rocket, but you had taken to keeping your earbuds in for most of the time, so if he did act like a dick to you it often fell on deaf ears.)

"Peter, I really doubt Fury intended for us to keep her locked inside." Gamora said, having assumed Peter was only wanting to refuse to let you go out for a walk, which she didn't understand, because he hadn't said anything when you took one the other day.

"Well I really doubt she's supposed to drive like that."

Finally understanding the issue Gamora grimaced. Peter was probably right.

Just then Yondu and Kraglin came into the kitchen looking to make something to eat, but saw the tense atmosphere.

"What's goin' on?" asked Yondu with a raised eyebrow. He hadn't heard any fighting coming in, but the way you were standing between Peter and Gamora almost implied someone was getting into it.

Peter spoke up, stating how you were looking to make a run into town and how he thought it was a bad idea for you to drive, only he phrased it to group him and Gamora together as having the thought, which prompted Gamora to say back to him that she actually hadn't given her opinion on the situation yet.

Yondu eyed you, or more specifically the brace on your arm. "Can ya drive like that?"

"Yeah." you reply. It was true, the arm in the brace wasn't the one you'd need for changing gears or signaling, so you should be fine, even if truthfully it'd be better if you didn't.

Yondu shared a glance to Kraglin and then shrugged. "Don't see a problem then." He turned toward the pantry, Kraglin following his lead, before he added, "Long as ya take Quill with ya."

You blinked. "Excuse me? Why would I- That's not- I'm not-" You were caught off guard and were now sputtering, clearly not thrilled with his addendum.

Yondu grinned at Kraglin, who was wondering where the elder was going with this, before saying nonchalantly, "If you're too nervous to take a passenger like that, then ya don't need to be going alone."

"I didn't say that!" you countered, pushing down the fact that the thought actually had entered your mind. "Maybe I just don't want to be annoyed by him- and I actually don't know if I can take him. That was never discussed." Again, this was also true. The topic hadn't come up. You had no idea if they were allowed to leave the property. Sure, for some it seemed obvious that they couldn't go into public, but you truthfully had never asked and had consequently never been told.

"He's Terran. Not like you'll run into issue there. I s'pose we could always call yer boss and ask..." His tone was laced with a grin as he turned back to face you with a Terran fruit he'd come to enjoy. A pear, he believed it was called. He was sure you wouldn't go for calling Fury, and he was right.

"No, we don't need to do that," you say irritably. Last thing you wanted to do was call Fury for something like this when he was already unhappy with you.

"I do think it'd be better if someone went with you," Gamora finally spoke up. "It couldn't hurt, at least." She was actually leaning towards the "don't let the Terran with an injured arm drive" party, but part of her believed you'd probably be fine and wanted to soften as much conflict as possible. Being transported in SHIELD vehicles she had seen how the insides operated, and it didn't look so complicated that you'd need both arms. It's not as if you were piloting a ship, and if you did wind up needing help, she was sure Peter could figure the vehicle out well enough.

You give her a mournful look and Yondu speaks again.

"But if yer still set on goin alone, I'm sure Gamora there won't mind callin' that Fury feller. Bet ya just wanna get away so ya can take that brace off without gettin in trouble," he said cooly with a grin. Catching the frown Gamora threw his way he added, "An' if she don't, I can always do it myself."

You tilted your head at the man, expression a mix of confused irritation. "First off, no, I'm not just leaving to do that. Secondly, who do you think you are? My mom?" you snarked.

"Nah, but yer acting like a kid. Somebody's gotta knock some common sense in that stubborn head of yers." Yondu replied, unfazed by your attempted insult as he took a bite of the pear and nodded once more to your injury.

You didn't get it. Why would he care? Why did any of them care?? Was it guilt? Because you wouldn't have been injured if they weren't there? You wanted to ask but settled for just sighing in defeat. You looked Peter over. He wasn't wearing a shirt with any alien writing on it, so at least he wouldn't get any funny looks for that. "Fine," you relented. "Get ready."

Peter let out a triumphant laugh and said he was already ready to go.

You took a moment and opened a couple drawers before finding what you were looking for. "Take these just in case." You tossed him a pair of black sunglasses. "You'll look like a douchebag, but you're probably used to that."

Peter let out a, "Hey!" but you ignored him, making your way past the others to the front door, telling Peter to hurry up.

***

"Can I drive?" Peter asked as the two of you walked to your vehicle.

"Absolutely not." you answered back with an incredulous glare.

"Why not? It'd be easier to let me drive than you try to drive with your arm in that."

"Because I seriously doubt you have a drivers license," you begin to say. Peter opened his mouth to retort but closed it again when you added, "that would be valid here." You open the driver's side door and add, "And because I don't even know if you know how to drive."

"I'll let you know I've been flying a ship since I was ten!" Peter countered.

"I don't care." you reply. "You're not driving. I can't risk us getting pulled over and you not have a license. You're fully free to stay here if you have a problem with that." You gesture back towards the house.

Peter disappointedly huffed but got in the passenger seat. You won this round.

***

Once you and Peter had left out the front door Yondu grimaced. "Might've miscalculated that one..."

"What'dya mean?" Kraglin asked. Gamora also gave him a funny look.

"Thought fer sure tellin' her to take Quill would've made her see that stayin' put wasn't that bad."

"Wait, you were trying to use reverse psychology??" Gamora asked, clearly annoyed.

"If that's what ya want to call it." Yondu shrugged with a frown, watching through the window as you pulled away down the drive, making sure the vehicle looked like it was driving straight. Luckily for you, it was. Otherwise he was fully prepared to whistle and spear a couple of your tires. Kitchen window would've needed replacing too if that happened, seeing as it was closed.

"Doesn't matter what I call it! It didn't work!" Gamora scolded. "If you didn't think it was a good idea you should have just taken our side instead of trying to play games and sending Peter with her!!"

"What'dya mean 'our side'? You were saying she should take someone with her too!"

"I didn't mean it!" Gamora snapped back.

Kraglin looked uncomfortable, not liking the feeling of being stuck in the room while the two of the more intimidating Guardians argued. Not wanting to draw attention to himself by leaving he just stood there and nibbled at his protein bar.

"Calm down, missy." Yondu said. "It'll be fine. And if not, Quill's got one of those phone things SHIELD gave us. Boy can handle himself."

Gamora glared but didn't speak any further, choosing instead to grab an apple off the table and head to her room. Yes, it likely would be fine, but it didn't mean she felt good about it.

***

After several minutes of driving in silence Peter tried to make conversation.

"So... lotta trees out here..."

"Uh huh."

"You make these trips into town often?"

You shrugged.

"I can see you don't feel much like talking..." Peter said awkwardly. You obviously weren't pleased with taking a passenger.

You turned on the radio in response.

Peter tried again after a few minutes when the music cut to a commercial break, trying a different tactic. "So, why are you afraid of doctors?" he asked, turning the radio down.

You gave him a strange look. "What? Where'd you get that idea."

He went into how you seemed tense when the doctor was checking you over when Fury came, and then recounted an incident that had happened the other day.

You had been reading in the sitting room when Mantis came in. You overheard her tell Gamora that her throat hurt, and so you pulled a lozenge from a drawer in the nearby table, telling her to suck on it and to tell you if it still hurt in an hour. If it did, you'd contact SHIELD to inform them she needed to see a doctor. Hearing this, Kraglin had piped up and asked why you would see that Mantis got a doctor straight away, but you had to have one forced on you. You gave him a look before telling him that it was different, and left the room before he could ask how.

"I only just put the two together." Peter said. "It must be because you're scared of doctors."

"No," you said flatly. "I'm not scared of doctors. I just didn't need one. If Mantis was sick, she would have needed one."

"But you did need one." Peter countered. "And Agent Hill told me about what you did in Romania. You needed one then too. Why would you do that to yourself unless you were too scared to go see a doctor?"

You exhale out your nose, annoyed that Maria had been telling him your business. "I'm not afraid of doctors, ok? It was an important job. There wasn't the time to stop and say 'Oops, will ya look at that, my appendix needs out. Better put the job on hold so I can find a doctor.' Not when I can do it myself. Happy?"

"She said you nearly died. That doesn't sound like being able to do it yourself. You can't do things like that. It's insane."

Your face hardened. Who did this guy think he was? Telling you what to do, you barely knew each other! "What's insane is a crime ring that traffics children to the wealthy elite for sexual favors," you snap at him. "So I guess I'm sorry if I wasn't willing to compromise the job to go lay in a damn hospital bed."

Peter didn't know what to say to that. He still thought you were insane for performing surgery on yourself, but he couldn't quite find a suitable argument after what you just said. After a moment he asked, "Did... did they get out?"

You knew he meant the kids. You swallowed. "Most of them. I don't want to talk about it." You turned the music back up, and Peter let it go.

The two of you rode in silence for a good bit longer before Peter turned the music back down again to speak.

"How much longer until we get where we're going?" he asked.

"Not long. Another ten minutes maybe. Why?"

"I need to take a leak."

You almost roll your eyes. "Why didn't you go before we left the house?"

"I didn't have to go then!"

A huffed laugh escaped your throat. "Seriously? You're like a toddler." You shake your head and say, "Do I need to pull over? I can if it's an emergency."

Peter almost pouted from the toddler comment. "No, I can hold it."

"Alright. Suit yourself."

About five minutes later you come up to a town, and a few minutes after that pull into the lot of a shop, the first stop on your list.

"I just have to run in here and grab a few things, they'll have a toilet you can use." you say as the two of you got out of the car, adding, "Don't forget those sunglasses. I don't want to take any chances."

He rolled his eyes but put them on anyway.

Upon entering the store you told Peter he'd find the toilet in the back and told him you'd be looking in the spices, pointing in the direction he'd find you when he was finished. You debated going along and waiting for him since he was technically your responsibility, but you decided against it. The shop wasn't too large so you trusted he wouldn't get lost on his own.

You split off on your separate ways and you grab a hand basket before heading towards the spices. You had only browsed for a short while when suddenly Peter was back at your side. "That was quick." you said to him, locating two of the spices you needed and dropping them in your basket.

"Door said it was out of order." Peter replied, sounding almost pouty.

You shook your head and said, "See, this is why you go before we leave the house." You find the last spice you needed and give him a knowing look as you began walking away from the spices.

"Don't talk to me like I'm a kid!" Peter said indignantly, following you as you left the aisle.

"Don't act like one." you reply, turning to find the cleaning aisle. SHIELD had been kind enough to include other basic things like toilet tissue on their supply drops, which you had been grateful for with eight other people living in your home, and the Guardians had already come with their own toiletries like toothpaste and soap, but you were seemingly on your own for cleaning supplies. You were now running low on dish and laundry soap. Gods, there was always laundry now. At least they did their own. Mostly.

"You're one to talk!" Peter retorted, gesturing to your arm.

You glare over to him as you walked. You swore, if you heard one more time about how you were acting like a child just for being stubborn about not seeing a doctor...

"Ow! You did that on purpose!"

"Did not." You said flatly, though you absolutely had smacked him with the basket on purpose. Not super hard or anything, but enough for him to feel it crack him in the knee.

He pinched you on the shoulder.

"Ow!"

"Didn't do it on purpose." Peter mocked.

You were by the dish soap now and so you set the basket down to grab a bottle. However, you were sure to flick Peter on the back of the head before you did.

"You did not just flick me!" he said irritably, retaliating by giving your exposed side a couple quick squeezes.

Your arm jerked down fast as lightening, having been just shy of grabbing your preferred bottle of dish soap. Your cheeks were burning and you looked around as you scolded him in a whisper-yell. "We are in a public shop! Don't you dare start that!"

"You started it," he countered smugly. However, his the smugness was wiped off his face when you gave him a taste of his medicine.

"See how you like it then!" you say, using your good arm to return his actions. You hadn't been positive it would work, but you weren't disappointed to see the playing field leveled when it did.

Peter's eyebrows shot above the sunglasses, his eyes widening as he crippled away from the touch and grabbed your wrist. "Don't! I told you I had to pee!"

"Oh." You had been so busy bickering it had honestly slipped your mind. "Sorry."

"Truce?" Peter offered, releasing your hand.

"Yeah, fine. Truce." you agreed, reaching up to finally grab the bottle of dish liquid, a little embarrassed as you realized how much like children the two of you had just acted. "Just hurry up and figure out if you or your friends need anything before we leave," you say, making your way down the aisle to grab the laundry detergent.

It was Peter's turn to look embarrassed, only for a completely different reason. "Actually, now that you mention it- if it's ok, I was wondering if they sell... "certain"... things here?"

You put the detergent in the basket and begin to head towards the pharmacy section, realizing it wouldn't hurt to pick up some bug spray and more of that gel for the bites. Mantis had a bad habit of getting bit by midges, and most of the others had started falling victim to them as well. You didn't look at Peter as you walked, saying, "You're going to have to be way more specific than that, dude."

Peter's cheeks we turning noticeably pink by the time you looked at him when he said, "You know... um... the things... for "special moments..." he used air quotes and looked quite uncomfortable, even with the sunglasses hiding his eyes. "Um... you know... uh... When two people like each other very much..."

You wanted to cover your mouth to hide your grin, but one arm was stuck in a sling-brace and the other was too busy holding the grocery basket. "Are you asking if they sell condoms here?" You tried really hard to bite back a laugh, but a tiny chuckle slipped out. It wasn't that he was asking for them that was funny, it was the way he seemed like a teenage boy about it, all nervous and such like you'd call his mother on him.

Peter's face was bright red now. "Don't laugh! Just- never mind."

"No, it's totally cool. It's just funny. I mean, we're adults, you can ask for them. Like, at least you're being safe about it." Suddenly feeling in a better mood and wanting to tease him you say, "Unless... do we need to have 'the talk' young man?" Now you really couldn't hide your giggles.

"So not cool!" Peter pouted, hiding his face in his hands.

You nudged him in the arm and pointed him down that aisle and told him he could find what he needed there. You continued up a couple aisles to grab the bug repellent and itch cream.

You met back up and he wordlessly threw what he had retrieved into the basket, barely looking at you as he did so. You held back giggles at his behavior and asked if he knew of anything else you needed to grab before checking out.

Peter shook his head, and you can tell by his expression he's eager to leave the shop and go back to the house. You almost feel bad for laughing, and you get an idea.

"If your friends liked the Oreos I can pick you up some more. We'll pass that aisle to get to the checkout anyway."

Peter nodded and you grabbed another double sleeve of Oreos before walking to check out. You only hoped you wouldn't get stuck with one of those chatty cashiers.

Wouldn't you know it, of course you did. You weren't super familiar with the cashiers despite frequenting this store, but you had become familiar with the fact that you didn't care for the one who's line you got stuck in, not realizing you had until it was too late.

Normally you feel for retail workers. You knew it was a tough job, but this one cashier just didn't know how to get the hint that not every item he scanned needed a comment.

Laundry soap? "Ooh! Great taste in scent!" Spices? "Someone likes cooking! Anything good tonight? Yum Yum! Ha ha!" Bug spray and itch cream? "Oh those nasty midges are out again. I feel you, haha." Cond-? Oh fuck. "Oh ho! Someone's getting luck-ay tonight! Am I right, my dude?" He winked at Peter, who noticed you looked like you wanted to reach across and murder the cashier.

Peter chuckled nervously and tried to smooth it over. At least, that's what you thought he was attempting. "Oh- aha- no. We're not together. We're uh- She's my sister."

You snapped a glare at Peter as you thrust your payment to the cashier and grabbed one of the two bags before storming off, telling him to keep the change. Peter grabbed the other bag and left the cashier standing there, who at least finally had the decency to look embarrassed by his comment.

Peter caught up with you quickly.

"Don't call me your sister. I barely know you," you say grumpily. That wasn't really the full reason it upset you. Peter wasn't your brother. Your brother was gone. Peter didn't get to call you that.

"Sorry, I panicked," he said.

You brush him off. You knew there was no way he could know. "Whatever, let's just leave. Sooner we finish in town sooner we can go back to the house."

You made your next stop to a nearby petrol station to fill up your car and give Peter a chance to find a working toilet. After the two of you successfully completed both tasks respectively, you stopped by the post office to grab the mail and post your bills while you left Peter in the car. On your way out of the post office you caught glimpse of someone across the road and a brick fell in your stomach when they waved, indicating they clearly saw you. You nodded back out of politeness but hurried to get in your car.

You buckled in and looked in the rearview mirror, only to see the person, a middle aged woman in a flowery blouse, walking towards your car, still not quite to the road yet, and waving her arms trying to get your attention.

"Fuck," you say, putting the car in gear to reverse before stopping to put it back in drive to finish pulling away. This would be so much quicker if your arm wasn't in the damn sling, but you still managed even with having to completely stop to remove your hand from the wheel to safely change gears.

"What?" Peter asked, turning to look out the back window once you began to pull forward.

"Don't worry about it- and don't look back!" you scold. You take a peek in your review mirror to see the woman gesturing in defeat, thinking you hadn't seen her trying to get your attention, and you let a small relieved sigh.

"Who was that?"

"No one." you replied.

"So you ran away... from no one. Sure."

You shoot him a look and turn the radio back up, clearly signaling that you weren't about to discuss it. The rest of the ride was spent in silence.

***

Once home you told Peter to put his "special" items (yes, you called them that, air quotes and all, just to embarrass him) in one of his pockets unless he didn't mind advertising them to the rest of his friends. You had assumed he'd be embarrassed if they were just on display for the others based on how he acted in the shop, and the fact that he obeyed implied to you that you were correct.

Once inside you and Peter made your way to the kitchen to put things away. He had refused to let you carry both bags, and you didn't fight him.

Sitting at the table were Kraglin, Yondu and Rocket. On the table were five empty bowls and an empty tub of ice cream.

You sat your bag on the counter and began pulling out it's contents to put them away. Honestly you were slightly bummed that they had finished off the whole thing, if you had known that you might have picked some more up while you were in town, but you didn't say anything about that. You did, however, say something along the lines of "Looks like you guys had fun without us."

Kraglin, who knew you didn't like the house to be messy and knew they were expected to keep up after themselves, began gathering the bowls to put them in the sink, to the eyeroll of Rocket.

"Yup. Ya two missed the party," said Yondu with a chuckle. "I'll admit, that ice cream stuff ain't bad." He then said to Peter, "Yer girlfriend is the only one who didn't want any."

You froze in place, your eyes widened. It hadn't clicked before. Your mind had been preoccupied with other things. Ice cream. Five bowls. There were seven people left at the house. Gamora hadn't wanted any. Tiny Groot probably shared with someone else. Yondu literally said he ate some. That meant... fuck.

You turned around to face them. Looking right at Yondu you say, "Uh, how long ago would you say you guys had the ice-cream?"

"Not quite half an hour ago, why?"

You bit your lips before saying, "Do none of you think to read labels before you eat things?"

Kraglin rolled his eyes playfully as he sat back down. "What? Ya mad we ate your snack?" he teased.

"No no no-" you state, holding up your pointer fingers like a teacher instructing the class on why they were incorrect. You didn't know if you wanted to laugh or groan. Probably the later. You look over at Peter, who held a slight grimace on his face. You say to him, "You know what ice cream is?"

Peter nodded. He remembered ice cream. He also knew the moment Yondu claimed to have eaten it what the problem was.

You look back to the others. "Any of you know what ice cream is?"

Yondu and Kraglin exchange a strange look and Rocket rolls his eyes, wanting you to get to the point.

"It's basically frozen milk."

"Ah." Yondu says, clasping his hands on the table and dipping his head with a slight wince of understanding. He was about to have a bad time. Kraglin and Rocket now share a look that can only be described as 'Crap..." (No pun intended)

Disbelieving laughter bubbles up your throat as you bend below the sink to retrieve a can of aerosolized air freshener and plop it down on the table in front of Yondu. "That's for you, for the inevitable. Use it." You walk to haphazardly throw the contents of your grocery bag in the pantry, leaving your mail on the counter and grabbing your earbuds. "Make sure to open the windows... I'm going for a walk, because there's no way I'm sticking around to deal with that again," you say, giving a mock salute as you make your way out the back door, leaving the guys there to deal with what was sure to be the horrible aftermath of their oversight.

*** You finally came back a couple hours later to find all the windows still open, but no one outside, and decided that was probably a good sign.

You cautiously re-entered the house to find that no bad smells seemed to have stuck around and decided to go look for survivors, but first you needed a snack. You were starving.

You ate a pop-tart just for something quick and then found everyone in the sitting room. Feeling in decent humor you said, "Oh good. You lived." This earned groans from the others. They weren't really annoyed with you for abandoning ship, so much as they were annoyed that Yondu would have messed up and ate dairy for a second time. Well, Peter was a little annoyed that you had just left him there when he hadn't been part of who caused the issue, but he'd get over it.

Your phone started to go off, startling you and a couple others in the process. You checked the caller-id and recognized the number. "Nope," you say aloud, ignoring the call.

"Who was that?" Peter asked.

"No one," you reply, only for your phone to chime with a text almost in response. You open the text and your eyes widen before you make your way quickly but calmly to the windows to shut them and draw the curtains.

This, of course, gathers the attention of the Guardians.

"What's wrong?" Yondu asks, perplexed by your behavior.

"Nothing," you answer at first, before turning to face them and amending it to, "Nobody's home," and continuing your task with the other three windows, still trying to retain a semblance of being calm.

The others watched as you made your way about the room, sharing perplexed glances. Once finished with the final window at the back of the room you started heading towards the door when Mantis grabbed your hand.

"Are you ok? What can we do?" she asked, concerned. "Please tell me?" She could feel you didn't want to ask for help, but she hoped her asking nicely might work.

You barely glance at her, don't notice her antennae are glowing. "I'm fine. If you want, I could use some help shutting the rest of the windows and curtains, please and thank you." You pull away and head to the hall, where they can see you draw the curtains on the front door shut through the sitting room doorway.

"I know you said you can ease people into compliance, but I didn't think you could actually make people do things." Peter whispered to Mantis. He naturally just assumed that's what happened. You, miss "I don't need help from anyone!" had actually asked for help. Clearly that wouldn't happen without some Mantis mojo. The closest you had come to asking for help was the first time Yondu had dairy and you wanted Peter to help open the windows, but still, that was less asking for help and more of telling him what to do if he wanted to live.

"I can't." Mantis replied. "She was genuinely asking. She's very nervous."

Peter shared a look with Gamora and Drax stood up from the couch to follow you, and the they followed him along with Mantis.

Yondu and Kraglin stayed in the sitting room with Rocket, who told himself he didn't care about whatever this nonsense was about and continued to play with Groot. Kraglin and Yondu exchanged puzzled looks, because unlike Rocket they were genuinely curious what was going on to make you as nervous as Mantis claimed. Why were you batting down the hatches for?

In the kitchen Drax helped you close the windows and curtains. As soon as he heard Mantis say she felt you were nervous he felt there must be a good reason and that he should probably help you, just in case.

Then you started shutting out the lights, and this increased the other's concerns.

"What's going on?" Gamora asked, authority in her voice as she followed you out of the kitchen. You may be their host, but she still felt they had a right to know what was going on, if they were in danger.

"Nothing." you say, shutting off the lights in the hall on the way to the sitting room.

"If it was nothing you wouldn't be doing this. Something is wrong. Do we need to call SHIELD?" She asked more insistently, not believing you.

You turn to her irritably at the doorway. "No. We don't need SHIELD," you say, flicking the switch to turn the sitting room's light off, much to the puzzlement of those inside.

"I will if you don't tell us what's wrong."

Just then there was a knock at the front door, and you visibly startled in response before freezing in place and whisper yelling, "Quiet!"

The other's obeyed, not sure what else to do or what was going on.

Peter quietly stepped out of the kitchen where he had been peeking through one of the curtains when he thought he could see the dim glow of headlights through the fabric. He saw a blue car pull up next to yours, and out of it stepped a tall man in a light grey sweater and a woman in a floral print blouse. She looked familiar.

"Hey," Peter whispered across the hall, "It looks like that woman from earlier. The one you ran away from."

"Shut up." you hissed.

Gamora looked at the two of you in confusion, but didn't say anything, didn't get the chance, because the knock sounded again and a woman's voice could be heard from the other side of the door calling your name.

"We know you're in there." said the voice. It wasn't angry or confrontational like the others might expect for someone you were apparently hiding from. "Your car's in the drive and we saw you shutting the lights out when we drove up."

You grimaced.

"We just want to talk." It was the man's voice this time.

Peter and Gamora looked at you expectantly, and you shook your head at them. Drax was now standing behind Peter in the kitchen doorway, Mantis having already moved past him to stand next to Gamora in the hall with you.

"Yes, we just want to talk." The woman's voice again. "We saw you in town today, we've been thinking about you."

By now Yondu and Kraglin had made their way closer to the door to better hear what was being said. They didn't care if they were being nosy.

The man spoke your name now, questioningly, as if to ask if you could hear them. "Ok, we understand if you don't want to see us, but please listen; We forgive you, and we're sorry."

You take in a breath, trying to mask your feelings with the others near. They were looking at you. Gamora's face had softened, wondering what the man meant. Forgave you for what? Sorry for what?

"We shouldn't have blamed you for what happened. We know that now." came the woman's voice. "We've had a lot of time to think it over, and we were wrong."

The man spoke again. "We were just hoping you could find it in your heart to forgive us, too."

You felt your chest tighten and you eyes burn, and so you clenched your jaw and your fists, unwilling to show any emotion to the space-strangers in your home, but they noticed anyway.

Peter gestured to get your attention and mouthed, "Open the door."

You shook your head, and he gave you a confused look. You nodded your head towards Mantis and Gamora as if to say, "Um, not with aliens in my hall!" Although that wasn't completely the reason, and you had the feeling he could tell, as he only sighed and frowned slightly in response.

After a pause the woman spoke again. "Alright. We understand you may not be ready yet. Maybe another time. We're still at the same place when you're ready to speak with us. Hopefully that's soon. We'll be going now."

You waited a few moments before approaching the door, and the other's thought you might finally be going to talk to the couple. You didn't, mostly to Peter's disappointment. Instead you peeked through a sliver in the curtains to watch them leave, not pulling away until their vehicle was gone.

As soon as you stepped back from the door Peter asked, "What was that? Who were they?"

"Nothing and no one," you answer, not meeting anyone's gaze as you flicked the hall light back on and walk towards the stairs.

Mantis grabbed your hand, but you pulled away, telling her that you weren't in the mood to hold hands right then and you were going to go take a shower. She just looked down sadly in response, but you wouldn't look at her to notice.

No one stopped you as you walked upstairs, and when you were out of earshot, Drax whispered to Mantis asking what you had been feeling just then, having noticed Mantis had been reading you when she grabbed your hand.

The other's listened in to her answer as she mournfully replied. She hadn't been able to touch you for long enough to get a full reading, but there had been one dominant emotion when she did touch you. You had been sad.

This only rose more questions from the team. Had the couple been been angry with you? What had you done? Why would their forgiveness have made you sad?

Weren't most people happy to be forgiven?

The sound of your bedroom door opening and shutting travelled down the stairs, followed shortly by the same noise of the bathroom door as you entered for your shower.

Yondu almost thought he could hear the faint sounds of crying before the noise was drowned out by the sound of a shower blasting on.

[ayuuria]

Yashahime Translation: Animage Magazine February 2021 Issue

Please do not repost this translation without my consent! This includes screenshots of any type and amount. If you wish to share this translation, simply link to this post.

For more information regarding the use of my translations, click here.

Regarding the Boy Whose True Colors Are Unknown

Riku, the mysterious person with a good smile and speaking words with profound meaning. He enshrouds not only Towa and the others of course, but also the viewers in smoke. Is he actually the Yashahime’s enemy? Ally?

The boy who proclaims to be “A pirate come ashore”, Riku. The figure of him showing a kind smile and talking quickly makes him seem like your typical nice guy at a glance. However, his speech has every bit of shadiness mixed in it.

The first sign was when he called the apple he received from Towa a “Forbidden fruit” (translator’s note: this was written in English). Most likely, he likened it to the story of the Adam and Eve written in the Old Testament; but why does he know about it when he lives in the Feudal Era? Also, the part where it seemed that Kyuuki of the Four Perils and Riku knew each other is of interest. Then above all, there is the dangerous statement he made to Shikabaneya Jyuubee, “I will take care of the Yashahimes, who hold three of the Rainbow Pearls, myself”. What exactly is the reason for him to go so far for the Rainbow Pearls…?

While leaving a strong discomfort, it seems that Riku will be on the move again in episode 14 after disappearing from the center stage for some time. What is the expression Riku shows before the evil mountain god, Homura, who’s heart has been stolen by a human girl? Even continuing into episode 15 which according to Riku’s voice actor, Fukuyama Jun, will be “A pretty big episode”. There is no mistake that Riku’s existence holds the key to the story of “Hanyō no Yashahime”. The strict prohibition on his words down to the details cannot be overlooked.

Character Bios

Riku The person who requested the subjugation of the Four Perils to the corpse shop. He is gathering the Rainbow Pearls and after Kyuuki’s death, he retrieved the purple Rainbow Pearl that she held.

Shikabaneya Jyuubee The owner of the “Corpse Shop” that deals in demon bounties. He lends money to Moroha and has her slay demons as repayment. He possesses the green Rainbow Pearl.

Takechiyo He can transform into a giant and fly the sky, so he runs around a lot as a means of transportation for Towa and the others. Miroku seems to be involved behind why Takechiyo works at the corpse shop.

Towa She has a kind personality, but she does lose her sense of reason when her little sister, Setsuna, is in danger. As she is a half-demon, she loses her demonic powers and turns into a human at the start of the lunar month (new moon).

Setsuna Normally, her “seething demonic blood” is sealed with Miroku’s Buddhist powers. In episode 13, the seal is released, and she repels Tōtetsu of the Four Perils. Unlike Towa, she does not turn into a human at the start of the lunar month.

Moroha A bounty hunter. Lately, she has been unable to retrieve the heads of the demons she defeats and collect bounties which has been the source of her worries. Just like Setsuna, she does not transform into a human at the start of the lunar month.

The Corpse Shop’s Big Client

Riku, who puts a large bounty on the Four Perils’ heads, is a “special client” to Jyuubee. To Riku, Jyuubee is someone who he told “I only kill those I love” and revealed part of his thoughts to. It appears that the green Rainbow Pearl that Jyuubee possesses also has something to do with Riku. We are curious about the two’s past!

Darling Yashahime…?

Riku and Towa met when a lost Riku asked her for directions. Then he introduced himself to Setsuna and Moroha after they fought Kyuuki. According to what Riku told Jyuubee, since he loves the Yashahimes, he is thinking of finishing them off himself. What is the reason…?

Hatred Towards the Four Perils

Riku’s prejudice against the Four Perils is to the point that he bluntly says “This is why I don’t like you” to the dying Kyuuki. He says the reason is because “(They are) unrefined”. On the other hand, Kyuuki knew Riku’s name and it appears that Riku and the Four Perils are acquainted with each other. Does he also have some sort of connection to Kirinmaru who controls the Four Perils?

The Evil God Who Loves a Human

In episode 14, Riku gets involved with Tamano, an extraordinarily beautiful human girl, and the evil god who loves her but has an excessively burning jealousy, Homura. A human and an evil god. When Riku sees a love that goes beyond race, he shows an expression different from what he’s shown Towa and Co, Jyuubee, and the Four Perils so don’t miss it.

Riku Knows Everything?! The Voice of Riku, Fukuyama Jun

Forbidden from revealing anything, even to his fellow voice actors?!  The young man full of mystery, Riku

— From the beginning, what sort of impression did you have of the work “Inuyasha”?

Fukuyama: It was a show that started around the time I started receiving roles in animation work as a voice actor. At the time, it was a long series by Takahashi Rumiko-sensei that came after “Ranma ½” so from the start, it was getting a lot of attention when it began serialization. There were even talks of an anime adaptation. I remember there was chatting among the young people like “Who exactly is going to do the voicing?” “It can’t be anyone other than Yamaguchi Kappei-san?”. The work continued for many years and many of my fellow voice actors took part. I myself did not make an appearance but I had the impression that it was a “far away but familiar work”.

— This time, did you audition for the role of Riku?

Fukuyama: I did not. It was a discussion that happened suddenly, but I received a direct inquiry. It was right about the time when my schedule was a mess because of the COVID crisis, and I remember the correspondence being like “Are you able to take part in the recording schedule?”. For roles without auditions, generally there are multiple candidates so it’s normal to wait a while until the decision is made. However, this time I got the role soon after I received the inquiry, so I was a little surprised. Then, about the same time, the production of “Hanyō no Yashahime” was announced. After that, I started looking for the work that it was based off, but it didn’t exist. I became doubly surprised like “Oh, this is an original work!?”

— Riku is a character with a lot mysteries, but exactly how much do you know about Riku’s back bone?

Fukuyama: The information is to a level that I can’t say anything at this time. They explained to me his position within the work and what would happen to him before hand at the recording studio. Using that as the standard, during the first recording, I had a feeling they told me detailed points. Riku can appear to be androgynous when he doesn’t say anything, but when he actually speaks, he addresses himself as “Oira”, purposely says expressions in a tone of voice that’s almost like a fool, and knows words that he shouldn’t know. The biggest impression I got from him was that he could be considered a major supporting character and I felt that moving in secret isn’t quite what his position is. On top of that, after finding out additional information that I can’t say yet, he’s a more important character than I thought. The staff have told me “Please don’t say anything about Riku to the other cast members.” “We want them to enjoy this too” (laughs)

— That is amazing! It seems Riku’s mystery has a connection to the core of the story.

Fukuyama: Please look forward to finding out (laughs). In the first place as of right now, not only do we not know what intentions Sesshōmaru had behind his actions, but it’ll be a little while longer before we know the full story of the drama that is being spun. To viewers, I think this aspect will make them excited, uncertain, and anxious.

By Being Outwardly Suspicious, His True Intensions Are Wrapped in Smoke

— In contrast to Riku’s Edo-like phrases, you somehow feel a sense of refinement from him. Do you take care in that aspect when playing him?

Fukuyama: When reading the script, I wanted to effectively capitalize on the foolish tone of voice. As I continued to act like that, I think I started leaning towards the feel of an Edo person. However, you can blend the “impression felt from the script” and the “impression created from the image” in animation, so as a result from matching up the length of the lines to the image of the story, that may have become the impression that TV viewers got. Now that recording has progressed, when I think back, I’m glad I didn’t stick with the impression I got from the first script. The expression he shows Towa and the others, the Four Perils, and to other people are subtly different from each other so if I had completely contrasted those, his character image would probably have either changed or become blurred. When I first started, I was glad the image kept me in check.

— So Riku’s character comes together from combining the voice acting and the image acting.

Fukuyama: Yes. In today’s recording (the day of the interview), different from the way he speaks to Towa and the others, he showed an expression that he hasn’t really shown until now. In terms of what’s being broadcasted soon, Riku’s way of speaking breaks the 4th wall in episode 15. He’s a person who shows a lot of different faces so until we reach the heart (of the story), I want him to remain a character that’s hard to grasp.

— In terms of acting, do you receive any instructions from the staff?

Fukuyama: I was given the following order “We want you to bring out more shadiness than what’s depicted”. In terms of Riku’s position, as a way for me to show the character, I moved in a way that made it difficult to figure out what he is as much as possible. If you can visually see that he’s up to something, I would make it not show with my words more than necessary. However, I also thought “There’s no point hiding that he’s obviously acting shady, so I actually want viewers to really understand that”. By doing that, his intentions instead become less obscure as result is what I’ve come to understand as I play him.

— He certainly seemed like a good person but also felt shady when he made his first appearance in episode 7. It was completely suspicious for him to call the apple a “Forbidden Fruit”.

Fukuyama: In beginning, I thought I wouldn’t show any suspiciousness in front of Towa. While the base of the character is the same, I didn’t want Towa to harbor any sort of suspicion. However, with that line, I was told “You can bring out his shadiness”. In order to wrap the story in smoke, I think they’re going to show everything in that way.

Riku Seems Like He Can Obtain Things That Modern People Cannot Have

— It seems that recording is done with only a few people, so who do you record with?

Fukuyama: It’s quite spread out. We record with people we interact with the most in that episode so the group changes with each time. The first time, I was with Hosoya (Yoshimasa) who plays the role of Kirinmaru and then after that I was with Koyama-san (Tsuyoshi) who plays the role of Shikabaneya Jyuubee. On top of that, there was a time when I was with members of “Inuyasha”… By the way, today I was with Fairouz Ai (the role of Takechiyo). This work is the first time that I’m co-acting with her but man she’s a lively young person (laughs). You can tell she’s really enjoying the work, so it makes things easier.

— Please tell us if you have any memorable moments in the recording studio.

Fukuyama: When I’m with the cast of “Hanyō no Yashahime”, I get the impression of “This is a new show”. Around the time when Riku debuted in episode 7, there was a nervousness like you’ve only just started running. However, when I was with the “Inuyasha” team, it felt like a class reunion. The air between Yukino Satsuki-san (the role of Higurashi Kagome) and Kappei-san (the role of Inuyasha) felt like they’ve been working together for a long time and I thought “Oh, so this is “Inuyasha”!” The “level” of difference between each of the recording (groups) is what I found interesting.

— Among the episodes that have already aired, which scene was especially memorable for you?

Fukuyama: The episode where Riku debuted left a big impression on me. His aura when he’s moving behind the scenes and his aura of “No no, he’s shady but he doesn’t seem to be two faced” when he met Towa. The difference in his behavior was fun to act out. Like when he spoiled that Kikujuumonji was something he stole right after giving it to Towa or when he suspended the river water, drank it, and said “Anyone can do it if you focus your mind”. For a first appearance he had a lot of information, so viewers were probably confused. Towa being Towa, she didn’t seem bothered at all and it’s like “At least be a little cautious!” (laughs). I think you will understand the back and forth (between them) better if you rewatch it after watching more (of the story). With the expression “Pirate come ashore”, you’d probably think “Then isn’t he a bandit?” but there’s probably a fixation to that. That expression is also important.

— Now then, what are the highlights going forward?

Fukuyama: In due time, I think you’ll understand that “Riku knew everything”. However, on one hand if he’s an enemy, it would be contradictory and if he’s an ally, there’s a lot of things off. You’ll end up coming back to “Then what’s his objective?”.  With that, I would like everyone to enjoy imagining what his position and future development will be. Among the latest upcoming episodes, episode 15 is a big one. While many mysteries will be revealed, instead of feeling refreshed, I think you’ll end up wondering what’s going to happen from there on. Once again, I feel it’s a very elaborate screen play. Also, in episode 17, Riku is going to move a little differently than he has up until now and in episode 18, Sesshōmaru and Kirinmaru will be making extensive appearances. I think this is going to be a very satisfying episode for “Inuyasha” fans so please look forward to it.

— We would love if you could comment on this month’s illustration (P. 37~)

Fukuyama: I see it’s an illustration of Takechiyo telling the reader “Your head’s too high!”. But in actuality I don’t think Takechiyo really knows who Riku is. I’m sure Takechiyo most likely sensed that he’s someone that you can’t reveal his actions to other people but in the end, Riku is a client. Riku’s immeasurable aura is properly expressed in this illustration. Boy does he have the nerve to show this attitude in front of people (laughs).

— Going forward, could you tell us an illustration scenario you would like to see?

Fukuyama: I’m sure “Inuyasha” fans will want to see “Sesshōmaru comforting a newborn Towa and Setsuna” right? Maybe Jaken getting his body pulled all over the place by the two babies is something that might appear in the main story. However, I have a feeling we won’t get to see Sesshōmaru protecting the kids. Thinking with Riku… How about something like Riku holding a PS5 (Play Station 5). Riku seems like he would have things that even we modern era people can’t get our hands on (laughs).

— (laughs) Now lastly, please give a message to our readers.

Fukuyama: I can’t say yet what sort of actions Riku will be taking from here on, but by the time all of you are reading this, I think you’ll have figured out his stance somewhat. I’ll be happy if you’re able to anticipate what’s to come while imagining it, but probably at this stage, I think what you can image so far will be different from the direction that the story is going (laughs). I will also be looking forward to what will happen to not only Riku but to Sesshōmaru and Kirinmaru as I attend recordings. It would be great if you can fully enjoy it until the end.

Q. Who’s Your Favorite Character?

“I like Homura who appears in episode 14. How do I say it, he feels like a person who’s true to his desires. The result that awaited him afterwards was impressionable. Also in episode 2, there’s the cameo appearance of the hoodlums from “Urusei Yatsura” that looked old fashioned, which was great. Then there’s Kagome’s younger brother, Souta! Though he knew about the existence of demons and time travel from his childhood days, it feels like he’s someone who has transcended (laughs)”

Q. What Is Your Impression of the Three Girls?

“I interacted with Towa in episode 7, but regarding Setsuna and Moroha, I heard their voices for the first time on air. I watched without gaining information beforehand, so I felt moved in a sort of refreshing way. The cast is either 12 years or younger than me, but I could feel the world of “Inuyasha” begin continued in their acting. They made me interested in “what will it feel like recording together with them?”. Including Fairouz-san, I’m happy that there are so many talented female voice actors.”

[snickiebear]

If this inspires anything in you, and if you have the time to write it, I hope we can see how you respond to the following prompt:

Kakashi is the god Sakura has to eat and kill.

Lordt help us!

HAHAHAHA MITTENS!! this is literally one of the best prompts ever. thank you SO MUCH!!

i literally had to sit down and outline this so make sure i gave it justice LMAO also, did a little research on japanese kami! which is so interesting btw :))

side note! this is also on ao3 bc i really, really loved it

xiv.

It begins with a girl (doesn’t it always?). A girl made woman who is nothing but smiles and laughter, unfiltered sunshine and the smell of flowers on the warm breeze.

She is good, she is brave, she is kind.

And she grows, that girl made woman, she grows and her eyes open to the world around her. To the hatred of the mortal, to the disease of the gods.

She holds her mother close as she dies in her arms, her father off to war.

They never find his body.

She is the only survivor of her village, war and wreckage in her wake.

This woman made once of sweet sighs and feather light touches learns to survive, learns to harden herself against the world, to bare her teeth and not her throat, to love the scars and hard muscle of her once too soft body.

She meets a woman with too ancient eyes for a face so young and the woman smiles at her, it is a horrible, wretched look. It is a beautiful, timeless look. “Oh, you.” She murmurs, voice old and young, standing slowly. “You’ll do just fine.”

And the girl made woman bares her teeth in a smile, a warning, tilting her head to the side, “Oh? And what shall I do just fine?”

The woman assesses her, amber eyes shining with something cruel, “You will be my avenger, girl.”

And the girl made woman, well, she rather likes the sound of that.

xxiii.

She sees him for the first time at the market, it’s a cloudy day, the streets full of people and the carts slowly selling out of the limited goods available.

The very land has been dying for years now. The mortals do not know it, but Sakura does. Less and less crops, dying plants, brain soil.

The thought itself brings a slight smile of fondness to her face.

But Sakura sees him for the first time at the market, and she knows who he is, what he is. She was under Tsunade’s tutelage for years. Sakura knows a god, a kami, when she sees one, feels one.

So, she walks, shoulders back, spine straight, loose and fluidly until her boot purposely catches on a crack in the cobblestoned road and she’s airborne with a sharp gasp—

Until two strong hands wrap around her forearms, steadying her gently. Sakura looks up, face flushed and eyes wide as she makes eye contact with the Shinigami, who looks at her in concern.

The god takes the form of a tall, broadly shouldered man with a mess of gray hair. Onyx eyes stare at her and they are so black she can see her reflection. Sakura fights the full body shudder that threatens to overtake her.

She has stared into the eyes of a dying god before. Staring into a living one’s should be no different.

“Are you okay?” He asks and his voice rumbles through her, her heart pounding without her consent.

“Yes,” She breathes and offers a shy but sweet smile, slowly taking a step back. He lets his hands drop, fingers grazing her bare skin. She ignores the goosebumps that erupt in his wake. “Thank you very much…”

“Hatake Kakashi,” The liar says, eyes crinkling from over his mask. “And you are?”

“Haruno Sakura,” She replies easily, tucking her hair behind her ear. The Shinigami holds out her basket of goods and she takes it, brushing her fingers against his deliberately, calculatingly.

The wretched kami gives her another eye crinkle, taking a step back himself, “Aa, a pleasure then, Haruno-san.”

Forcing a blush, Sakura waves off the honorific, “Please, just Sakura.”

“Then I am simply Kakashi,” And with a duck of his head, the fraud turns and ambles away.

Sakura turns also, disappearing into the crowd of much too skinny humans, too poor, too stupid. She allows herself to grin, wide and unfiltered, and with teeth. And that scaled, clawed, fanged thing inside her peeks its eye open and purrs.

xvi.

Tsunade— or at least that is what she wants Sakura to call her — takes a long swig from her jug and cackles to herself. “I was right when I picked you, you know.”

Sakura glances up from her scroll of poisons, “You still have yet to tell me why it took only one look to think I can do whatever avenging you want done.”

Swirling the liquid in the jug once more, Tsunade chuckles, “Call it intuition, yeah?”

She huffs, snapping the scroll shut and stealing the jug from her master, taking a long drink herself. It is horribly bitter and disgustingly tart, and Tsunade laughs herself hoarse at the look on Sakura’s face.

“You’re going to do great, mighty, quiet things.” Tsunade says after a long silence. Sakura looks at her curiously. “You will bring war upon earth, disrupt the very heavens. Sweet child, you only know a taste of the power you could hold.”

And Sakura, well, she’s been alone since she was eight years old and surrounded by disease ridden corpses, she’s stolen and cheated and bartered her way through survival. She knows her way around a knife, a piece of glass, a sharp rock.

She has spilt blood just to eat for the night.

“You’ll teach me,” It is not a question.

That cruel, beautiful smile unfurls on her master’s face, “Of course, Avenger. Tell me what you want to know.”

“Everything.” Sakura breathes, demands, pleads.

A soft, aching laugh. “Very well, come here and listen closely.”

And Sakura is a clever girl made woman, she listens to everything Tsunade says, and everything she does not.

So, when Tsunade leaves her alone for the night, Sakura stares at the ceiling of the cheap Inn they are staying in and allows herself to smirk.

xxiii.

She sees him every time she goes to the market after that. He crinkles his eyes at her with a, “Good morning, Sakura-san.”

And in response Sakura blushes and murmurs a sweet, “Hello Kakashi-san.”

It goes like this for weeks until he changes their routine, leaning against one of the carts, tossing an apple into the air. There is only one farmer who can now produce apples, and even then the fruit is weak, no longer crispy and juicy.

The very land, the very life of this village is being drained away. Just as the other villages Sakura has traveled through. There will always be consequences to her actions, she supposes.

Kakashi tosses her the apple and Sakura makes sure to fumble with it before clutching it close to her chest, a teasing smile on her lips, “Kakashi-san, this is new.”

“Mah,” He hums, shrugging, “Just didn’t want you to miss out on your usual, is all.”

Sakura smiles, tucking the apple into her basket, the usual contents dwindled down to a simple jar of jam, a measly loaf of bread, and now the apple. She would need to make this quick and move towns soon.

“Say, would you like to come to lunch with me?” It’s a shot in the dark but she’s hoping that Tsunade was right when she said Sakura was infuriatingly charming. “I understand if you would not like—"

Kakashi cuts her off with a wave of his hand and a friendly look in his eye. Sakura wonders, idly, what he would taste like freshly baked and seasoned. “I am not one to turn down free food, of course.”

She laughs, a light and tittering thing and bares her throat the slightest bit before looping arms with him, “I shall lead the way then.”

Luckily, she has some dried meat and left over vegetables to make something decent and she smiles as him as she sits.

“You’re a healer.” Is what he says, eyeing the herbs and the bandages she had left out.

Sakura shrugs, “I try to lessen pain,” It is one of the many things Tsunade had left her.

He looks at her as if she is something new and so very interesting and she knows what he sees. A thing of life, a thing of preservation, has invited a creature of death, a creature of destruction into its domain, and allows that dark creature to live there.

It is what she wants him to see. Sakura smiles with teeth and she knows he does not see the wolf that sits in front of him.

xvi.

“Dodge!” Tsunade barks harshly and Sakura just barely avoids a direct hit, her skin still burning from the way the air sizzles from her master’s blow.

Sakura twists and flips backwards to gain some space between them, thighs quaking and sweat pouring as she pants, chest heaving. “I fucking am!” She bites back.

“Do it faster.” And then Tsunade is in her space, uppercutting and a blow to her stomach, sending Sakura flying into the corpse of trees behind them.

But Sakura is used being beaten down and she snarls loudly, landing on all fours, fingers digging deep into the ground before she lunges upwards, narrowing avoiding Tsunade’s next hit before spinning horizontally and lashing out with her foot.

And for the first time, Sakura lands a hit on Tsunade; sending her stumbling back, golden blood bleeding down her face.

She lands, gasping for breath, knees collapsing out from under her as she stares wide eyed as her master wipes blood and sweat from her face with the back of her hand. Her amber eyes sharpen to knife points as she grins, feral and oh so wild, “Very good, Sakura. Now we’re making progress.”

Despite her exhaustion, Sakura smirks, tasting blood and salt and victory. “Think you can handle more, old lady?”

“Don’t push your luck, brat.” Tsunade smirks, stalking towards Sakura to pull her up, “Now let me see that jaw of yours. And the stomach, the hell did I tell you about the sto-“

“I know,” She snaps, rolling her eyes as her body throbs something fierce. She allows herself the weakness of leaning into Tsunade’s as they trudge back to their small cottage. “I’ll do better.”

“Good.” They leave it at that. Then, “That was a good hit, my pupil.”

And Sakura, well, she’s feeling indulgent, so she smiles, a slight twitch of the lips as she murmurs, “Thank you, shishou.”

xxiv.

She finds him at the usual spot, draped over a branch like a limp curtain, book in hand. Sakura is still not quite over the fact that the death god reads awfully written porn, but at this point in her life, nothing can truly shock her.

Sakura is well past expectations.

Hiking up her pants, she climbs up the tree and to the branch he’s lounging on, straddling it so her back is to the trunk. Kakashi makes a curious noise when she pulls out her book from the waistline of her pants, “I never took you as an Icha Icha reader, Sakura-chan.”

Peering over the top of her book, Sakura quirks a brow, “If you can read porn, so can I.” A pause as she turns the page, “Plus you’re reading Paradise, I’m reading Violence. Two very different pieces of literature.”

What she will not tell him is that Tsunade taught her how to read with these books, she’s memorized every page, paragraph, and line written.

“You wound me so,” He sighs, going back to his book.

Comfortable silence descends upon them and the only sounds are of nature and the rustle of paper. Time passes and she cannot help the slight twitch of her lips whenever Kakashi giggles at a certain part. It is nice, this quiet.

But she knows it will not last. She will not allow it.

And like an omen, low rumbling of thunder rolls through their quiet, small droplets landing on her hand before the rain steadily picks up. Sakura snaps the book shut and shimmies down the tree, Kakashi landing soundly next to her.

“My place?” She asks, though she knows the answer.

Kakashi intertwines their hands, gently and slowly, his hand encompassing her own as he looks at her, dark eyes reflecting the sky as lightning strikes. Something hot pools deep in her belly when she makes eye contact with him.

And she knows. She knows that she has him.

They stand in her small cottage, dripping and studying each other before they move as one, ripping at each other’s clothes, all lips, teeth, and tongue.

She claws at his back when he thrusts into her, rough and unyielding. The rain pounds outside as her back arches and he groans deep and rasping.

He falls asleep, his face pressed into the crook of her neck and Sakura allows herself to smirk, the taste of glory on her tongue once more.

xiv.

Sakura glowers and bares her teeth at the woman, “You still haven’t fuckin’ told me what we’re supposed to be doing.”

Truly, the only reason why Sakura is even here is because of the free food and shelter. She is well aware that nothing is free in this world, Sakura has learned that the hard way.

The woman tilts her head, studying keenly and Sakura rears her head in a snarl. But the woman’s lips pick up at the corner, “What’s your name girl?”

“Sakura.” She bites out, fingers curling into fists. Glancing around the tavern, she notes the exits, the windows, the people who could be an issue. Then again, she’s sitting across the biggest threat in the room. “And yours?”

The woman hums, “Call me Tsunade.”

“And what am I supposed to be doing here?” She grounds out. Sakura nearly bites the woman when two strong hands clamp down on her shoulders, the woman’s face inches from her own.

“You are the catalyst, girl. The commination that will teach the world the very meaning of power.” Sakura’s eyes sharpen at the last word and Tsunade nods. “You like that, hm? I will teach you then, Sakura. And you will enact my vengeance on the heavens itself.”

Sakura stares, tension slowly melting from her body as she stares at this woman, at this savior. And she thinks, she remembers how cold her mother’s body was, the look of grief her father wore when he left.

She remembers tripping over the bodies of friends, of neighbors, half coherent and sickly.

Looking at Tsunade, Sakura licks her lips, “And what will you teach me?”

“How to turn that rage into a dagger and slit gods’ throats with it.” The woman purrs and Sakura smiles.

xxiv.

She wakes to a freezing cold chest to her back and puffs of air on her neck, just as she has since that night.

It is exactly as Tsunade said it would be; fishing. Lure, hook, and reel.

Sakura lets herself smile with teeth, a smug and sharp thing before she slowly extracts herself from the tangle of limbs they had become. The Shinigami slumbers in her bed, wrapped in her blankets.

Leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms, she looks at the god who she has fallen in love with. He loves her with just as much ferocity, she knows. And despite it all, she finds herself not quite hesitating when she goes to dig through her cabinets, finding the small nine pedaled flower. It once had ten and after this morning it will only have eight.

It is as if sinking into a familiar skin as she picks one of the petals, tucking the flower back where it was. Humming under her breath, Sakura grounds the petal in a small bowl before brewing some tea, sprinkling the powder into it.

The Shinigami’s arms snake around her waist, kissing her temple as he rumbles, “Good morning.”

Sakura turns her head to smile at him, offering the tea.

The scaled, clawed, fanged thing within her has its ugly maw open, head throw back as it cackles and howls.

xviii.

“Listen brat,” Tsunade says, snapping open a scroll.

“I’ve already read that,” Sakura interjects, her brows raising. “You know that.”

Tsunade slaps the back of her head, “When I say listen, I mean it.” She shoves the scroll into Sakura’s lap before striding towards a chest that had not been there before. “Come here.”

Slowly, Sakura makes her way towards the opened chest and peeks inside. She drops the scroll, “Is-is that-”

“Weapons to kill the divine,” Tsunade finishes for her, nodding. “Find one you like.”

Sakura swallows harshly as she kneels down and digs through the weapons, careful of every sharp point, as she palms a knife, a curved dagger with a golden blade. “This one.” She whispers, looking up to her master.

Tsunade nods in approval. “There are few ways to kill a kami.” She holds out one finger, “One, with an ichor dipped weapon.” A second finger. “Two, a very particular poison.”

Picking up the scroll, Sakura glances down the list before landing on one flower, “Kami koroshi.”

“That’s right.” Tsunade nods, “And do you know what to do with it?”

Sakura stands, flipping the dagger in her hand. It feels like coming home, having a blade at her side, bathing in the intimately dangerous knowledge of how to bring about the destruction of the heavens.

“Crush it for indigestion.”

xxiii.

Her stomach aches with laughter, clutching at her sides as she cramps and chokes on her tears. “An-and then wha-what happened?” She manages to get out as Kakashi laughs himself, leaning against the wall, a jug of liquor in hand.

He passes it to her and Sakura takes a long drink, reminiscing of a time similar to this.

“Then I told him, fuck off you little shit—" Kakashi wheezes and Sakura shouts with laughter, curling over as she gasps for breath. “And go blow som-someone else!”

They both dissolve into giggles and howls, Kakashi joining her on the floor. Sakura’s panting by the time she catches her breath, wiping tears from her face, and when she looks over Kakashi is not much better.

Brushing hair from his face, she points skyward, the stars winking down at him. “Hey Kakashi,” She asks, drunk off her ass and still giggly. “Where do you think we go when we die?”

Silence meets her question, and she sluggishly looks to the side to find him watching her, eyes soft and so full of— of—

“You’ll go somewhere safe,” He says softly. “Somewhere beautiful.”

“Yeah?” She mumbles, eyes dropping closed.

“I’ll make sure of it.” Is the last thing she hears before the dark overtakes her.

xix.

Tsunade sits across from her, laughing as she takes another long drink from her jug and sets it down heavily.

Sakura simply watches, leaning back in her chair, eyes cold and head tilted as her master coughs once, twice, three times.

Her arms begin to lose its color, being paler and paler and Tsunade watches with detached interest before laughing. She looks to Sakura, “Took you long enough, you fuckin’ brat.”

Snorting, Sakura stands, dagger in hand as Tsunade’s body begins to writhe, her breathes coming quick and uneven.

She yanks her master’s hair back, exposing her throat and slitting it in a single slide, so deep that she knicks bone, golden blood spraying.

The body drops forward, ichor pooling on the table and dripping onto the floor. Sakura sighs, rubbing the back of her neck as she kneels down to look into Tsunade’s lifeless eyes, “I will take it from here, Shishou.”

The promise rings out into the silence and Sakura revels in it.

xxiv.

Kakashi takes a sip of the tea as they both sit down, Sakura across from him. She takes a bite from the rest of their bread, watching him keenly.

He jerks suddenly, choking and hacking as he looks to her in horror and alarm. “You—"

“Me.” She confirms easily, getting up, dagger in hand.

The Shinigami roars and pushes the table away from himself and into the wall, Sakura ducks, the wood barely grazing her head before she lunges.

His already pale skin grays some more as he attempts to fight her off. She laughs at him, holding him down with one hand, knees on either side of his hips. And in the morning light, her dagger glints like a heaven sent prayer.

She plunges the blade into his head and drags it down his breast, carving him open as the kami screams and screams and screams.

Sakura feels his life bleed out from him under her hand. It is quiet once more.

And the girl made woman smiles, all bloodied teeth and gold stained hands. "And here we are." she whispers, caressing the corpse's cheek, reveling in her quiet victory. "Divinity dies at my wretched hands once again."

xvii.

“Shishou,” She begins, treading carefully. Her teacher looks at her in question, quirking up a brow. “Why were you outcasted from the other Kami?”

Tsunade— or more commonly known as Inari, Goddess of Everything Important, of the very Life— laughs and it is a hollow sound. “Oh, darling girl,” She says, a bland smile on her face. “Even gods hunger for power."

xiv.

Sakura sits, a feast laid out in front of her, a goblet of wine in her hand as she smiles, eyes flashing with something predatory.

Picking up her fork, Sakura spears into the first bit of meat, taking a bite and moaning at the way it melts in her mouth, the way the spices and flavors all blend.

She sips at her wine, running her tongue over her teeth before she laughs, throwing her head back and cackles at it all, with it all. Oh, she is a god killer, she is god taught and god fucked and she will be the one to rule them all.

Sakura sits, a feast laid in front of her, and eats the Shinigami’s flesh, one bite at a time until she can feel the power in her roar.

xix.

The corpse still sits at the table as Sakura rummages through the shit Tsunade had left behind, finding a thick envelope sealed in wax. Prying it open, Sakura laughs.

If you’ve found this, it means you’ve finally grown a pair and done what you were supposed to do. Well done, my pupil. You know your mission. I have trained you well. Do not disappoint me.

And behind the scrawled letter is a recipe.

She looks to the corpse and back down to the paper before she stands, going to gather the ingredients needed.

Sakura stands, flipping through the rest of the contents of the envelope until she pauses at another paper; a list of names and common dwellings.

The Shinigami’s is underlined three times in red.

xxv.

It ends with a girl (doesn't it always?), a girl made of nothing but destruction and anger, all slit throats and bleeding teeth.

She is horrid, she is wretched, she is powerful.

And she has grown, that girl made woman, she has grown and her eyes are wide open and she is intimately aware of the hated and evil of the world, of the weaknesses of the divine.

She finds them laying under a tree, peacefully existing and smiling at each other. The blonde one laughs, clutching his stomach while the raven simply watches on in adoration.

Sakura takes out the list, and under the Shinigami’s name crosses off two more, Raijin and Fujin.

Smiling, she makes her way towards them making sure to look a little lost and a bit scared.

And that thing inside her, the scaled, clawed, fanged thing, it smiles wide and hungry.

[arashikitten]

Of Molten Gold and Frozen Silver- Part one

This is a collection of the first three chapters for my fic, “Of Molten Gold and Frozen Silver”, as celebration for me finally getting an ao3 account! Thank you to everyone who has read this fic, chapter 4 is coming along! Without further ado, here’s Of Molten Gold and Frozen Silver part 1.

   When Qi Xiaotian had gone to Flower Fruit Mountain that morning, he’d gone expecting either brutal sparring, grueling physical labor, or, if Sun Wukong was feeling particularly lazy, an hour or so of meditation.

   He had not been expecting to find Sun Wukong hunched over in pain, gripping his head and snarling like a wild animal. He also hadn’t expected to see a familiar bluish-white smoke slowly circling the Monkey king, accompanied by the very worrying sound of small, whispering voices that seemed to fill up the cave. Qi Xiaotian felt ice settle into his veins. He recognized this, he’d seen this before, just a week prior.

   Baigujing. The White Bone spirit.

   He should’ve run. The moment he’d seen the white smoke, he should’ve booked it to the hills, rushed back to the city to sound the alarm for everyone, to save as many people as possible from the oncoming rampage.

   But… he couldn’t. Sun Wukong, his mentor, his idol, was in trouble. He needed help, and Qi Xiaotian would be damned if he didn’t at least try to do something. Slowly, carefully, he reached out toward the shaking Monkey King.

   “Sun Wukong? Hey, um, are… are you-“

   “Run.” Qi Xiaotian froze, the air leaving his lungs as terror flooded his veins like ice. Wukong’s voice was raspy, tight with pain, and each syllable trembled in the musty air of the cave. This thing- this demon, it was hurting his mentor, and Xiaotian felt his heart wrench at the notion. He needed to help.

   “Wukong-“

   “Xiaotian, you need to run. I can’t… I can’t hold Baigujing back for much longer. It’s way...way stronger than before, I won’t last long. I thought, thought that I could handle it, but…” the monkey king gasped as his knees gave out, sending him to the hard stone floor. Qi Xiaotian rushed forward, even as Wukong began to growl like a rabid animal, tail lashing back and forth like an irate cat. He reached forward, almost touching Sun Wukong, when-

   “STAY BACK!” A pale gold force rippled out from the monkey king’s form, sending Xiaotian flying back. He winced as he slowly began to push himself up, a twinge of pain in his side confirming the presence of a quickly-forming bruise. He looked up at his mentor, questions on his tongue-

   When he finally saw Sun Wukong’s face. And every muscle, every nerve ending, went cold as terror crashed full-force into him like a tsunami, sending him plunging into the waves, too disoriented to know which way was up even as he was drowning in fear.

   Dark, empty shadows obscured to top half of Wukong’s face, leaving Xiaotian unable to see the familiar golden glow of his eyes. The bottom half of his face, the part Xiaotian could see, was pale and washed out, appearing a dusky gray-purple like that of a corpse. His mouth was twisted in an ugly snarl, sharp teeth glinting in the dim light of the cave. But that wasn’t what scared Qi Xiaotian.

   No, the thing that scared Qi Xiaotian was the singular, glowing blue eye that pierced through the shadows of the Monkey King’s face, pale smoke leaking from the outer corner like tears. And, despite the cruel snarl and the tense, aggravated posture…

   That eye was shining with fear. Sun Wukong… was scared.

   Sun Wukong. Who had fought countless demons. Sun Wukong, who had thwarted death countless times, becoming immortal four times over in the process. Sun Wukong, who had gone up against the entire Court of Heaven, and was only stopped by the Buddha himself. Sun Wukong, who was strong enough to lift an entire mountain with ease.

   Sun Wukong, who had saved his life…

   Was afraid. Was terrified of whatever was trying to take over his body, trying to trap him in his own mind. His mentor, his powerful, wise, unflappable mentor was scared, and Xiaotian could only watch in horror as he began to succumb to the demon.

   “Kid… listen… to me. You… you need to- to run. Go- go and warn the others. Please, before… before it’s too late.” Gods, Wukong sounded so desperate, so terrified, and it made Xiaotian’s heart crack in his chest. His throat felt tight as he held back a sob, praying to whoever was listening to please, please put a stop to this, please don’t let this be happening.

   “Sun Wukong, please, no…” it came out a whisper, trembling with unshed emotion.

   “Kid… run. Please. I don’t… I don’t want to- to hurt you. Not when… not when you’ve done… so much for- for me. Please. Run.” Qi Xiaotian gasped softly as he saw tears slowly trail down the Monkey King’s face, even as he could see the traces of his mentor began to leave that one blue eye…

   And suddenly Wukong’s face relaxed, a small fond smile taking it’s place over the snarl, that glowing blue eye filling with affection and kindness and love-

   Xiaotian’s breath stuttered as he stepped back. His eyes burned with tears that he refused to let fall, trembling hands covering his mouth as he began to sob. Wukong cared about him, cared about him not just as his successor, but his-

   Xiaotian turned and ran as fast as he could, eyes screwed shut against the pain and wind as he finally let his tears fall.

   Sun Wukong watched him go, smile filling with relief. And even as the White Bone spirit finally won, even as pain flooded every nerve ending, even as his heart started to shatter…

   He knew his kid was safe.

————————————————————————

   Sun Wukong was falling. He had been for a while now, the pitch dark that surrounded him obscuring any view of a potential floor or walls or anything. At first it had scared him a bit, but now…

   Now it was just straight-up boring. One can only stare at nothing for so long before their mind begins to wander, and Wukong really didn’t want that to happen. Especially not after…

   Wukong felt the fur on the back of his neck raise as he flashed back to what happened in the cave. When the Baigujing had first appeared, he’d attempted to destroy it like he had over four millennia ago. It should’ve been easy.

   But… something had changed. The Baigujing had vanished as Wukong had attempted to strike it, only to reappear right behind him. He’d attempted to leap out of the way, to fly out of its reach.

   He hadn’t been fast enough. Before he could even turn his head, the White Bone spirit had flown into his chest, drenching him in ice that seemed to fill his lungs. His vision had become a haze of blue and white, blinding him while insidious little voices whispered in his ears all of his doubts and insecurities-

   And then the kid had shown up. His kid had shown up. He hadn’t even noticed until the kid’s voice had cut through the whispers, sounding worried and confused.

   He’d been terrified then, terrified that the White Bone spirit would take him over then and make him hurt his successor, hurt Qi Xiaotian. So he’d begged the boy to run, to warn everyone in the city to evacuate. Of course, the Baigujing hadn’t taken to kindly to that, and another surge of it’s power had sent him to his knees.

   He recalled, vividly, the raw overwhelming terror on Xiaotian’s face as he’d turned to face him, recalled with painful clarity how tears had begun to form in the kid’s eyes as he pleaded with Wukong, begging him not to go. And when he had realized the fear in the kid’s eyes wasn’t because he was afraid of him, but rather for him…

   Wukong grit his teeth as he remembered his final words to Xiaotian, and the feelings that had accompanied them. There was pain and fear, yes but- there was something else, something that was new to him. It had roared within him like a blazing fire, sending beams of light through his soul like a miniature sun, a sudden need to protect his kid-

   Wukong was jarred from the memory at that. His what? He’d called Qi Xiaotian his- his what?

   My kid, and there it was, that warm feeling in his chest that screamed at him to find Xiaotian and wrap him up in a blanket and protect- Sun Wukong blinked. When the hell had that happened? When had he become so attached? When had he stopped viewing Xiaotian as his successor, and started viewing him as his kid?

   Sun Wukong thought back. These feelings… they’d been strong during their last encounter in the cave, too strong to be entirely new. But he couldn’t remember any other-

   Wukong’s head shot up. The Macaque. When he’d seen Xiaotian being pinned to the mountain by his own staff, the Six-eared Macaque looming over him, he’d felt that rush of protective instinct roar within him, screeching at him to get the kid out of there, to get him to safety, to get him away from that monster-

   Wukong shook at the memory, Xiaotian’s look of terror and betrayal from that day had been burned into his retinas. He hated that look, hated that the kid had been subjected to that kind of terror not just once, but twice now.

   But most of all, Sun Wukong hated that both times, Xiaotian had been put in danger because of Wukong’s own shortcomings. His kid, his kid, had been put in life threatening danger, and Sun Wukong had either been almost too late, or the direct source of that danger.

   And now he was stuck here in this endless void, a prisoner in his own mind, unable to protect the one person in the world that he cares about.

   “Well, well, well. This is certainly new.” Wukong started, head whipping around to see-

   The Baigujing’s glowing blue-white eyes stared out at him from the darkness. It took the form of a thin, pale woman in a flimsy sheer white dress, light blue markings in the appearance of bones marring otherwise smooth, uniform skin.

   It looked like a corpse.

   The Baigujing grinned, mouth stretching far too wide, showing off it’s rotten gums. Wukong felt ice flood his insides.

   “I never took you for the fatherly type, but three thousand years is plenty of time for change. Although, I do have to wonder: why him, of all people? He’s so… immature. Easily distracted. Demanding. Sloppy. The kids… pathetic.”

   Fury burned in Wukong at the words. Yes, Xiaotian was a bit immature, and he didn’t have much in the way of an attention span, but he was a good kid. He was smart even if most people didn’t notice, and he had a drive unlike any that Wukong had ever seen. And Xiaotian was far, far from pathetic.

   However, the fire of rage was quickly doused by the cold realization: Baigujing knew.

   It knew about Qi Xiaotian (the protective feeling started to grow in his chest).

   It knew about his relationship to Qi Xiaotian (that feeling grew brighter, hotter in his lungs like a bonfire).

   And it knew that hurting Qi Xiaotian would break him (the feeling was overwhelming him, consuming every other thought until the only thing that mattered was Xiaotian Xiaotian Xiaotian Xiaotian-

   Sun Wukong was consumed by golden light that shattered the obsidian dark like a mirror, and the Baigujing flinched back to shield it’s eyes from the blinding light. It felt it’s will being pushed back by the Monkey King, his bright white light stinging the dark tendrils of it’s control.

   For just a moment, Wukong was able to see. For a split, vital moment, he was in control.

   A moment was all he needed. He knew he wouldn’t last long. Already he could feel the Baigujing starting to take back control, could feel himself slipping from his own mind. He needed to slow the Baigujing down, just enough for Xiaotian to get help.

   Enough so his kid could be safe. He would not let him down this time.

   Sun Wukong braced himself as he grabbed a sharp rock and raised it above his head.

   He could hear the whispers of the Baigujing now, getting louder and louder-

   He saw Qi Xiaotian’s face, looking up at him with a happy little smile, eyes shining with warmth and admiration in a memory long past-

   Wukong slammed the stone into his knee, snapping it in two, right as he slipped back into the obsidian void.

———————————————————————

   Red son restlessly paced the unfinished halls of the new lair, dark red coat silently fluttering as he did. It was a nervous habit of his, something he’d developed fairly recently, and he felt as if he might explode if he stopped.

   The events of the past week were still fresh on his mind, and now played a starring role in his nightmares whenever he tried to sleep.

   His father- his dear, beloved father- had attempted to kill him. His father, whom he was absolutely and unshakably loyal to, had called both him and his mother traitors. His father had called him weak. Useless. A disgrace. And even though Red son knew his father wasn’t in his right state of mind, even though he knew now that his father had been possessed…

   It had begun to plant these seeds of doubt in him. After all, he’d had yet to reclaim the staff from that infernal Noodle boy, and the few victories he had were only achieved with the help of his mother or father.

   He’d have yet to win a fight entirely on his own.

   The thought stung, more than Red Son was willing to admit.

   Then there was the actual fight. The one against the Demon Bull king. The one with Qi Xiaotian.

   Qi Xiaotian. The Noodle Boy. The one who currently wielded the Monkey King’s staff. He had crashed into Red Son’s life with all of the reckless force and chaos of an out-of-control freight train, upending all of his hard work with a practiced ease. He frustrated Red Son to no end, and yet at the same time, Red son had found himself anticipating every fight against the Noodle Boy with a giddy, childish excitement.

   Of course, he’d still hated him. Despised him for even thinking that he could stand up to the might of the Demon Bull family, regardless of whether or not he had the power and yes, fine, skill, to back it up. It was an insult, for a mere mortal to even consider the idea that they could even begin to compare to him, the great Red Son!

   But now, everything Red Son had felt toward the loud, excitable man had been thrown into turmoil. And the worst part was that, looking back, Red Son could tell that this wasn’t just from the team up against his father. No, these complex feelings had been there, as far as Red Son knew, since the race for the immortal peaches. They had just been overshadowed by frustration and his preconceived ideas about the Monkey King’s successor. The fight a week ago had simply brought these feelings to his attention, strengthening them in the process.

   Which, considering what exactly these feelings were, and who they were directed toward, was not good for Red’s already strained relationship with his parents.

   Red son blushed as he remembered the fight against the Demon Bull King. He and his mother were crouched in a fighting position, his mother summoning her massive fan and Red Son already calling flames to his fingertips. His father, locked in the possession of the Baigujing, had charged at them, roaring like a wild animal…

   Until Xiaotian, in true Noodle boy fashion, came careening full-speed smack-dab in the middle of the Bull King’s path, not unlike their first meeting. Red son, despite past experiences with Xiaotian literally dropping in on him and his family, had been surprised.

   He’d been even more surprised when, without even thinking about it, he’d sworn to fight alongside the very person he’d been trying to kill not one week prior. He hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t even been suspicious of Xiaotian at first. It had been a knee-jerk reaction, completely instinctual. That in itself was concerning, because his first, instinctual reaction to Noodle Boy showing up in their lair to fight his father should not be “let me help fight with you”, regardless of the circumstances. Granted, his mother had also agreed to help Xiaotian fight, but she clearly hadn’t been happy about it.

   Red son, on the other hand… despite his history with Xiaotian, despite their numerous past conflicts, despite the VERY IMPORTANT FACT THAT HE AND XIAOTIAN WERE SUPPOSED TO BE FUCKING ENEMIES, Red Son had felt his heart leap at the prospect of fighting next to the monkey kid, instead of against him. And he’d found that he’d actually really enjoyed fighting with Xiaotian, made even more alarming when, hours after the fact, Red son had found himself daydreaming about fighting alongside Xiaotian again, of sparring with him on the rooftops or in the mountains, of talking about old stories and myths and shows they like… of just being together.

   Of course, when Red Son finally caught himself, he’d denied absolutely everything, blaming it all on the leftover adrenaline and anticipation from the battle, telling himself that it was a one time thing, and nothing more.

   That argument had been torn to fucking pieces when, that night, Red son dreamt that he and Xiaotian had become friends, sparring together on the rooftops of the city and sitting together at a small cafe, chatting leisurely over coffee and tea. They had rented out a small apartment together, in between the old lair and that little noodle shop he knew Xiaotian worked at. In his dream, they had gone to the apartment and sat on a small, gold and red couch to watch some nonsensical movie. They had talked about something that Red son couldn’t remember, when suddenly he’d found the noodle boy leaning up against him, head resting on Red’s shoulder, fast asleep. It felt so… so normal, so calm and happy and warm, it felt like home. It made his heart race, made his stomach flutter like a hummingbird’s wings, and he couldn’t help the rising joy and affection and love-

   Red son had woken feeling more content than he had his entire life, and yet he still ached for more. Then he’d fully woken up, and that warm, brimming satisfaction was replaced with cold horror. This went beyond leftover adrenaline, beyond a stupid passing thought. This was real, this was serious. He liked Xiaotian, really liked him if that dream was anything to go by.

   But he couldn’t possibly like the Noodle boy like that: they were enemies, constantly fighting each other, constantly at odds. There was also the very important fact that Red son despised the Noodle Boy, and the noodle boy more than likely felt the same way about him.

   But even as Red son tried to argue, he knew that the first part, at least wasn’t true, and that it hadn’t been true since… since…

   Red son blanched. When had he stopped despising the noodle boy? When had the fiery, burning rage softened into something less, had become simple annoyance as opposed to withering vitriol? Most importantly, when in the fresh, ever loving fuck, did the idea of living with Qi Xiaotian become more appealing, more tantalizing, than the idea of ruling the world alongside his father and mother?

   It made no sense. How could he go from despising someone with every fiber of his being to… to… to whatever the fuck this was??? How could he go from wanting to from wanting to kill someone every time you saw them to wanting to live with them??? To wanting to spar with them, to wanting to go to coffee shops together, wanting to watch movies together, wanting to hold their hand and hug them and talk with them and….

   Red had been so caught up in his head, so caught up in his thoughts about the Monkey kid, that he hadn’t even noticed that he had been walking to his makeshift room until he was standing at his new desk (there were already some darkened scorch marks from when he’d caught himself daydreaming about Xiaotian again, as Red had caught himself wondering what it would feel like to kiss the spiky-haired younger man. The memory still brought a harsh flush to his cheeks.), holding a small messy sketch that he’d done a couple of days ago. It was of Xiaotian, who, in the sketch, had the staff leaning against his left shoulder, one hand in the pocket of that gaudy orange hoodie, and a wide, easy smile on his face.

   He’d hidden it in the small, hidden drawer on his new desk, to ensure that his mother didn’t find it. He’d been unable to bring himself to destroy it, and had taken to storing it in one of the pockets of his trench coat. He often found himself taking it out to stare at whenever he was feeling particularly stressed, or when he felt as though his parents were whispering about him behind his back, scorning him for being weak and a disappointment and-

   No, Red Son growled to himself. They do not hate you. They do not think that of you, they love you, they support you, they are proud of you. But there was still that doubt, that lingering fear that the Baigiujing had planted, and for some reason, that little, shoddy, rough sketch of someone that should only serve to inflame those feelings of inadequacy was now his main source of comfort.

   How strange, that his family was now the cause of his fear while his enemy was his source of comfort and warmth? But then again, Xiaotian had been turning Red son’s world on its head since that fateful day, when he’d fallen from the sky as though the Buddha himself had plucked him up by the hood of his hoodie and plopped him right into Red son’s life.

   Perhaps he had. After all, Xiaotian was the Monkey King's successor, and he’d shown up at the exact moment that the Demon Bull king had been freed, and the staff along with it.

   Red Son sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shoved the Xiaotian sketch into his coat pocket. Clearly, he’d been cooped up for too long.

   Perhaps a nice walk through the edge of the city would do him some good. Besides, what were the chances of him running into the noodle boy there?

—————————    —————————   —————————

   His lungs burned as he ran, heart pounding in time with his footfalls. He couldn’t stop though, not until everyone was safe. And that meant running with everything he had, if only so he could get to the city in time to warn of the incoming threat.

   Tears stung his eyes again at the thought. His mentor, his idol, had become a monster right in front of him. And the worst part, the worst part was that there was nothing that Xiaotian could’ve done to stop it. In that moment, he’d been nothing but a bystander, unable to do anything but sit by and watch as one of the most powerful beings in all of China, his mentor, was possessed by a demon.

   Gods, Wukong had been so scared in that moment. Xiaotian had seen the small tremble in his paws, the way he’d recoiled from Xiaotian’s touch like a wounded animal.

   And then there was the screaming. Xiaotian had gotten maybe 10 miles away from the mountain when it had started, loud and high and pained, a polyvocal screech that dipped between Wukong’s lower roars and the high raspy cries of the Baigujing. It had been close, too, no more than a few miles back, sending terror shooting through Xiaotian so hard and fast it had made him nauseous. He’d been rooted to the spot, eyes wide and hands clenched into trembling fists, tears starting back up and making his vision blur. He had stumbled back, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs that burned his lungs and made his throat tighten almost like a noose around his neck.

   Wukong was hurt, and if the polyvocal quality of those screams was anything to go by, he trying to fight back for control. But eventually, Wukong’s voice had died out, submerged under the raspy, high voice of the Baigujing, and Xiaotian had to turn and run toward the city. The Baigujing was coming after all, and this time…

   This time Xiaotian wasn’t sure he could win this fight.

   So he’d continued to run, the constant mantra of don’t let them catch you don’t let them catch you the only thing keeping him from collapsing where he was. His mind kept playing tricks on him, too, with small wisps of translucent blue-white teasing the edge of his vision, and every dark shadow and oddly shaped log appearing like Wukong to Xiaotian’s tear-blurred eyes.

   By the time he could finally see the edge of the city, Xiaotian’s nerves were raw and frayed, his lungs burning like they were on fire. There was no time to stop though. The possessed Wukong couldn’t be that far behind, and there were so many people he needed to get out…

   But even as Xiaotian barreled toward the skyline, he had a realization that made his stomach drop like a stone: even if he was able to evacuate everyone in time, how in the hell was he gonna get anyone to believe him? Sure, the Gold and Silver demon brothers caused some issues every now and then, and the Demon Bull family had wrecked the city on more than one occasion, but Sun Wukong hadn’t been seen by anyone but himself for at least the last 300 years. On top of that, Sun Wukong was supposed to be one of the most powerful beings in all of China, preceded only by Guanyin and the Buddha himself. Something like the Baigujing, which had been considered a low level demon before now, should not have been able to take control of Sun Wukong so easily, or at all really.

   So how, how was he going to get anyone besides Zhu Dachu, Long Xiaojiao, Tang Shifu, and Sha Wujing to believe him? And once he did that, however long it would take, how was he going to be able to evacuate the entire city before the Baigujing got here-

   Xiaotian’s train of thought was abruptly derailed when he slammed into someone at full speed, bowling whoever it was over and sending Xiaotian himself skidding a good few feet in the dirt. He gasped in pain as his already bruised side slammed into the ground, no doubt aggravating the injury even more. He winced as he sat up, head spinning slightly as he did. Xiaotian lifted his hand to his forehead to assess the damage when the person he’d slammed into finally spoke.

   “I ought to burn you to a crisp, you filthy peasant! Look what you did to my coat! How dare you- wait a minute. Qi Xiaot- I mean, Noodle Boy? What are you doing here?” Xiaotian froze as dread flooded him. No. No no no nononono. Why, out of everyone in the city, did I have to run into the one demon that tries to murder me on a regular basis?

   Of course, out of the 20+ million people that Xiaotian could’ve bumped into, Red Son was the one person in his way.

   Great.

—————-  —————-  —————  —————-

   Of course, out of everyone that Red Son could’ve encountered, it was the damned Noodle Boy who had come barreling into him like a bat out of hell, jacket and pants torn and muddy (there was also a small red stain on his side that Red chose not to think about at that moment). The force at which the boy had slammed into him had sent Red Son flying, landing on his back with a thud and tearing up his once pristine trench coat.

   That alone had incensed Red Son enough that he didn’t realize who had run into him at first. It was only when he turned to see that familiar orange hoodie, that signature bright red headband, that he had realized that it was Qi Xiaotian.

   He’d been so shocked that he’d almost accidentally called him by his actual name, a slip up that he made sure to rectify quickly as possible. Couldn’t have the Noodle Boy thinking that he was important enough for the great Red Son to know his name, after all.

   He watched as Xiaotian froze upon hearing his voice, and worry started to knaw at him when the usually confident and boisterous delivery boy started shaking, dread filling his eyes like tar.

   It made something in his gut clench, seeing that look on Xiaotian. It reminded Red of war refugees, with their wide eyes that weren’t seeing anything that was truly there, lost in a world ravaged first by fire, then machine gun fire, then missiles. It was a look that spoke of horrific, monstrous things, things that would take even the most resilient of men and empty them until they were nothing more than husks, their spirits broken by the relentless waves of death and destruction.

   It was a look that Xiaotian never should’ve had to wear, but here he was now, right in front of Red Son, beaten up and covered in dirt and bruises and cuts that he did not know the origins of.

   Red Son was shaken from his musings when the Noodle Boy had jumped up, one hand reaching back for the staff and the other hand reaching out flat in front of him. He had already started to back away, and Red Son was struck again by just how haggard the usually energic boy looked then.

   “Listen Red Son. I’m not here to fight right now, ok? I know you probably couldn’t care less, but there’s a very powerful demon coming at the city right now, and I don’t know if I’m gonna have enough time to evacuate everyone as is, so if you could please just-“

   “What do mean, ‘a powerful demon’? Shouldn’t you be able to handle it, what with having all of Wukong’s powers and whatnot?” At that, an almost pained look flitted across Noodle Boy’s face, and the hand that had been going for the staff suddenly went to his side.

   “That’s…. that’s the- the problem.” Dread turned to alarm at that. What the hell did that mean? Surely there wasn’t a demon powerful enough to take down Sun Wukong in their own, right? Not even his whole family could claim that, and they were one of the most powerful demon families around.

   “It’s… the Baigujing, it…. it escaped to- to Flower Fruit Mountain.” Red Son’s stomach dropped like a stone. Shit. Shit. His father had been a tough fight under the influence of the White Bone Spirit, and had it not been for Xiaotian’s arrival, there was a very good chance he and his mother would not be alive today. If the Baigujing had possessed Sun Wukong….

   “When I… when I got there this morning for- to train, with, with Wukong, it was already…. it was….” Xiaotian was shaking now, and Red Son hated just how much he understood the pain in Xiaotian’s eyes. After all, hadn’t he been in the Noodle Boy’s exact position not even two weeks ago? Hadn’t he known the terror, the betrayal, of seeing the person he looked up to more than anyone else on the planet turned against him, becoming a monster under the influence of some monstrous demon?

   Hadn’t he watched as his father, his loving, caring father, for whom he had dedicated his life toward, came rushing at him with the full intent to kill?

   If Xiaotian hadn’t shown up then, Red would be dead. As much as he hated to admit it (his heart jumped in spite of himself), he owed the Noodle Boy. He owed him so, so much, more than he would likely ever know.

   Sun Wukong had been possessed by the Baigujing. Xiaotian had, more likely than not, seen it happen. Sun Wukong, possessed by the Baigujing, was most likely heading toward the city with the intent to level everything within a 10-mile radius, and then some. If they wanted to limit casualties, then they either needed to evacuate everyone…

   Or, Xiaotian would have to face Wukong outside of the city. On his own. Where he would most likely die, scared and confused, murdered by his idol.

   Absolutely not.

   Before Red Son could reconsider, before he could even begin to think about the implications of what he was about to do, Red Son held his hand out to Qi Xiaotian. Determination burned in him, chasing away the icy tendrils of dread and replacing them with the barest glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he could do something good for once. Maybe he could fix his mistakes, become better than what he was

   Maybe he could become someone worth loving.

   And it was with that final thought that Red Son reached out to his enemy-turned-rival-turned-something else, one hand gripping the small sketch still in his pocket, and said

   “Let me help.”

[tomsrebeleyebrow]

heavenly yours (epilogue) | th x fem!reader

Heavenly Yours – a chaotic series

PART 1  |  PART 2  |  PART 3 | epilogue

Summary: A few years passed and some things changed. What is now happening in the Underworld of Hell?

Pairing: KOH!Tom x Angel!Fem!Reader 

Warnings: language, some blood (not much), tones of cute moments, tones of feelings, SMUT including pregnant sex, unprotected sex (use condoms kids), fingering, stimulation and breeding kink (oopsie)

Words count: 10.2k

A/N: first of all: a massive thank you to all the people who supported me and this mini series! you’ve been amazing all along, and i couldn’t have make it without you 🙏🏻✨ also sorry for the delay but i started a new job so i was busy, but then covid-19 happened and here i am now at home 😅 at least i can get some writing done 👀 anyway this mini series is coming to an end with this epilogue, so again a big tysm and i hope you will support my other works like you did with this one 💖💞

masterlist | series masterlist | your support

A few years later.

In the Hell’s Castle.

.

.

❞ You piece of crap, you are such a disgrace even for Hell. ❞

The voice echoes in the throne room. It is not a scream, but still loud, rough and impressing. Capable of giving you the chills or killing anyone on the spot. A voice well-known in the Underworld of Hell. A voice feared by any demon down there.

‘M-MY KING, I-I DIDN’T MEAN TO- I AM S-SORRY PLEASE! SPARE ME P-PLEASE-”

❞ SILENCE. ❞

The voice gets a bit deeper this time. The entire room trembles and so do all the people present in there. No one dares to look directly at him, scared of making him lose his temper even more. The demons care for their life and just kneel down, heads bows, silently.

But boy someone sure is going to have a bad time today.

Tom lazily sits on his throne, one leg crossed over the other and an elbow on the black wooden armrest with his hand supporting his head. His current sitting spot overhangs the room, getting a clear view on today’s “trash to clean”, as he commonly calls them. The strong fingers of his free hands tap on the armrest, his short nails creating a macabre melody in addition to the fragile pleading of the unfortunate defendant of the day. The King’s facial expression doesn’t let through a single ounce of emotion, but who knows him well senses that the King is upset. Really upset.

❞ How many times did we catch you sneaking out of the 8th circle? Five, or more? Either way, you really pissed me off now. ‘ve got other shits to deal with. ❞

‘P-PLEASE MY KING! I WILL DO WHATEVER Y-YOU WANT! PLE-’

❞ FUCK OFF, YOU MISERABLE ASSHOLE. ❞

*slash*

The pleading abruptly stops, letting a heavy silence to take place. The body of the demon then separates in two perfect and equal parts, before falling into a sloppy sound on the now bloody ground. Still no word spoken. Now the smell of death is strong in the room, and the blood of that disgusting and deceitful demon begins to block Tom’s airways.

❞ Take that shit away from my sight and clean quickly that mess ❞ exhales Tom, scratching his temples and frowning at the displeased view.

The demons’ subjects stand one by one and after bowing their head to their King, they start executing his orders.

❞ Actually, give some pieces to Tessa. She will be happy to have something to chew on. ❞

At the sound of her name the aforesaid Tessa makes her way next to her master, her claws clinking on the marble floor as she passes next to the corpse and other royal subjects. Now sitting next to Tom’s leg, her tongue hanging out, the female staffy raises her face towards Tom who understands what she wants.

❞ I know, darling, I know. Now is break time ❞ slightly chuckles Tom as he bends his upper body  to scratch behind his dog’s ears.

Just as his subjects finish cleaning the mess from earlier - not forgetting to bring some “toys” in Tessa’s corner -, Tom catches some stepie steps coming from behind the giant entrance door of the throne room. And he knows these steps. Pretty well actually. He smiles and Tessa seems to ear them too now, her tails batting the ground from excitement.

The devil man finally stands from his throne, extending his black wings on his back. All royal servants are gone, the place shinning like day one. Then a light knock resonates in Tom’s ears, his smile transforming into an amused smirk.

❞ Who dares to disturb the King during his duties? ❞ Tom exclaims in a weird imposing baritone voice, chin up and chest puffed out.

*giggles*

The man beats his wings and keeps his position, quite the opposite of Tessa who excitedly begins running around Tom, knowing who is actually behind the door.

❞ I dare you to enter this room, you little crooks! ❞

The heavy double door cracks as it opens slowly, letting out some creaking noises. Tessa just starts running straight to it as her barks echo in the room. And as the door opens enough, two little bodies appear behind it and are instantly being jumped on by the dog, clearly happy to see them. Then follow lots of laughing and giggles.

‘DADDY!’

Tom finally loosens up his acting at both voices calling him then walks towards them, arms open wide. As Tessa calms down, the two bodies free themselves and run to the King, before jumping right at him. Tom catches them, joining their laughs as he starts spinning around.

❞ How are my beautiful children doing? ❞

Children indeed. Two children. Tom’s treasures and source of happiness. Something he never imagined he could have one day. But he did. On his strong arms are attached his four and a half-year-old daughter Dottie and almost two-year-old son Al, both their little hands wrap around their dad’s waist and torso as they look at him with smiling faces.

Dottie is the clear image of Tom. Same brown wild curls he once had back to his angel’s life, big coffee eyes that are already pro at doing the puppy look, a cheeky smile and very affectionate. A total outgoing daddy’s girl, a bit loud sometimes, but always ready to help and protect the one she loves, mostly her little brother. She is his little warrior, as Tom likes to call her.

Regarding Al, the younger sibling is definitely like (Y/N). The same features from the colour of his hair, eyes and so on that scream he is the reflection of the dear angel who stole Tom’s heart long time ago. But little Al is quieter than his sister, sometimes shy or even diffident, but still kind and radiating gentleness. And a one hundred percent mama’s boy.

To compliment all that, both children display cute growing wings on their back. A mix of white and dark feathers, beautifully arranged and showing the union of their so different parents. But Tom couldn’t stop touching them because each time he does, these feathers prove him everything is now possible, even for him who endure exile and torture alone for so long. The tiny bodies he carries warmly are the fruit of his tenacity to show how much the Kingdom of Heaven was wrong since forever, ruling in the shadow with received ideas which only created sadness in the end.

But not anymore.

❞ Wait, did you two sneak out of your mother’s sight or- ❞

“I’m always close to them even when they don’t know, darling.”

Tom exhales, a smile growing on his face. The lovely and soothing voice of his other half makes his head turn towards it. And there she is. (Y/N). Standing next to his throne as if she was always meant to be there, wings majestically framing her body and the long white lace summer dress he lastly bought her drawing her curves to the perfection. And new perfectly stretching around her growing stomach. The angel brings her left hand up to stroke it, the circular moves drawing attention to the golden accessory on her ring finger which also matchs with his own one.

A wedding ring.

Her longer hair cascades on her back and shoulders, nicely brushed and arranged to welcome a delicate crown on top of her head. Thin and discreet, a few gold stems go around her head, intertwined together, with some clear red spots here and there.

A golden crown of red roses.

(Y/N) is absolutely stunning, she always was, always is and always will be. She manages to take Tom’s breath away each time, even for any little things she does. The angel was the missing puzzle piece since the beginning.

After the night they became one, Tom stake to his words to make the angel woman his queen. As much as Tom wanted a quick and private celebration, his friend and advisor Harrison had to remind him many times that Tom being the King of Hell, he had to mark the occasion at least a little bit to officially present her to the Kingdom of Hell.

And that is what Tom did.

It was a short ceremony but still worthy of the King of Hell. And maybe an occasion to show off a lot little next to his soon to be - and now officially proclaimed - wife, the love of his (after)life. And it would have been logical to give her the title of Queen of Hell, as him being the King of Hell himself.

But no. Tom didn’t want her being associated too much to the Underworld of Hell, title included. So he decided to stick with only “Queen” and that was already enough, and even better. (Y/N) is his Queen, the one he wants to rule his Kingdom next to, the one he wants to be with forever.

‘MAMA!’

The children both squeeze out the grip of their father to rapidly fly right towards their mother, who kindly smile at them as she catches her youngest one in his still wobbly flying. Al and Dottie cuddle into (Y/N)’s body, being careful to avoid her tummy during their embrace.

Tom could look at this scene for hours. Looking at the person he loves the most holding his two other precious ones - soon to be three - all together, radiating of love, happiness and kindness, emotions he craved for so long that he is now proud of being able to have and feel. Unconsciously this put a warm smile on his face, and he couldn’t stop himself from joining them too.

As Tom engulfs them all into his strong arms, his black wings also surrounding them, (Y/N) slightly nuzzles her face into her husband’s neck while still holding both her children close to her. The devil man rubs his nose against the soft hair on top of her head, avoiding her little crown, to smell the fresh scent of flowers coming from it.

❞ You like to just appear and disappear wherever you want to surprise me, don’t you darling? ❞ jokes Tom kissing her temple, which makes his wife giggle.

“It’s not like you don’t like it, sweetheart” replies (Y/N) as she leaves a soft peck on his neck.

❞ Cheeky you. But touché. ❞

One of Tom’s hands slides around her lower back then her hip to end its course at the side of her growing stomach, slowly stroking it through the fabric of her sundress. He kisses both Dottie and Al’s foreheads before resting his cheek against (Y/N)’s temple.

Being able to have his family by his side to love and cherish to his heart’s content is something Tom would never change. His family. These simple words bring so much feelings inside him, warming up his heart each time he says them out loud. With a powerful meaning.

Tom detaches from the little group to take back both his daughter and son in his own arm, freeing (Y/N) from their intense grip. He then walks to his throne and sits on it, putting both his children on one leg on it. (Y/N) soon joins them too and sits on Tom’s free leg, slightly leaning on her husband’s torso.

❞ Alright kids, what did you do with your mother until now? ❞ asks Tom to his children, firmly but tenderly keeping them still on his leg.

As Dottie begins (but mostly tries) to vividly describe all the games they played and Al listening to his big sister, both parents look at them lovingly while cuddling into each other. Tessa soon join them with something in her mouth - definitely a piece of the demon’s body from before -, sitting peacefully at Tom’s feet to chew on her new “toy”.

The macabre room of sentences is now filled with adorable laughers and chitchatting, clearing up the usual bloody and terrific atmosphere for today, at least.

* * * *

(Y/N) lays on the red velvet couch in the living room, her back against tones of fluffy pillows she gathered from everywhere in the castle. Her legs stretched out, she continues reading with the book slightly put on her five-month-tummy. In the background, the angel can hear Dottie and Al playing in the garden with Tessa, their joyful laughers making her smile. Beside her, the fire keeps crackling in the fireplace, warming up the air around her. It is actually the only spot of fire (Y/N) ever saw in Hell, and the only one she is actually happy to light up.

Still immerse in her peaceful reading, she hears steps resonate on the marble of the living room, coming closer to where she is. As the angel raises her head, the silhouette of Harrison makes its way to her. Dressed in his usual black outfit, imposing wings on display, the loyal demon of Hell soon stops at the back of the couch to address to the young woman.

“Good afternoon, Harrison” (Y/N) greets him as she rests the still open book on her stomach, giving her full attention to her friend.

‘ Good afternoon, (Y/N). We just rece- ‘

Harrison gets interrupted by (Y/N) who puts her index finger on her lips, then slowly pointing down to where her book is. Intrigued, the demon leans further over the couch. And to his surprise here sleeps the King of Hell himself, totally squeezed between the back of the couch and (Y/N)’s body, his face slightly on top of her breasts and an arm around her pregnant belly.

(Y/N)’s hand begins to scratch his scalp softly and he seems to snuggle more into her, his breathing calm and at ease. Harrison tries his best to suppress a smirk. Seeing the most powerful demon who terrifies all Hell and beyond in this position, as gentle as a lamb, is for sure destroying the entire myth itself. But at the same time, he never saw his friend this peaceful until he made the impossible to bring his love one back to him.

So in the end, Harrison couldn’t stop the discret crooked grin in the corner of his lips. After silently clearing his voice, he starts again but in a hushed voice.

‘ As I was saying, we just received a letter from Heaven addressed to you. ‘

Harrison holds the aforesaid letter out to the angel woman, who takes it carefully as to not crumple the delicate paper. The letter is rolled up and neatly tied up in a white silk ribbon, (Y/N)’s name calligraphed on it in thin and calligraphed letters.

Looking at her sleepy husband one last time, (Y/N) takes the ribbon between her fingers and slowly undo it, depositing it on her book. Harrison stays at the same place, hands linked on his back as he watches over the woman. (Y/N) rolls the paper out with her two hands and sees a few lines written on it, the handwriting being familiar to her.

“This is from Zendaya” starts (Y/N), now smiling with kind eyes at the letter. “Thank you Harrison.”

‘ You’re welcome, (Y/N). I will be with the kids if you need something. Also... ‘

The demon glances at Tom who has not moved an inch since then, still fast asleep against (Y/N).

‘ ... Make sure he is awake for his afternoon’s duties. Got some important “work” to deal with ‘ Harrison whispers, emphasising the specific word “work” with the intonation of his voice.

“I know I know, don’t worry about it” replies (Y/N) while massaging Tom’s scalp.

As Harrison makes his way outside to keep a close eye on the children - even if in the end, he will totally play with them but never admit it out loud -, (Y/N) feels Tom’s body moving slightly, his legs stretching out but still not waking up fully.

The arm around her stomach tightens a bit, his hand caressing her side almost tickling her thought her dress. He snuggles more against her, a content smile now on his face. Letting her husband enjoy his well deserved nap, (Y/N) can concentrate on the letter she received from Zendaya.

Zendaya. One of the Superior Angels who maintains peace in the Kingdom of Heaven. One with a big heart and a beautiful soul. And the only one who trusted and agreed to help Tom when he was banished and sent to Hell.

Approaching the Superior Angels was, at the time, nearly impossible because they were considered as “the direct messengers of the Holy God”. But Zendaya had always been... Zendaya. Well educated, respected by everyone and also the only Superior Angels close to the other angels. She never feared anyone, even when her fellow Superiors asked her many times to keep her distance with the common  angels.

Zendaya always had a mind of her own and that is also why she developed a certain friendship with Tom. Him being himself loved by everyone in Heaven, she knew since the beginning she could trust him. With time they became confidant to one another, and it is also like how Zendaya learnt about his growing feelings towards (Y/N). She knew her too, a bit less but still enough to trust her deeply and admire her from afar. But everything changed when the Superior Angels suspected something was going on. And, in fact, they didn’t hesitate a single second to get complete rid of Tom without another thought. And Zendaya couldn’t do anything but assist to his terrific exile.  

As time flies, Zendaya felt nothing was the same in Heaven anymore. Mostly when she kept an eye on (Y/N). So much despair and sadness, but well hidden by the young angel to not draw any attention to her. Zendaya admired (Y/N)’s mental strength but she could not not be afraid of her fellow’s mental health. And even with all her will, Zendaya knew she couldn’t do anything. At least not by herself.

Until one day, totally out of nowhere when she thought she had to finally put what happened behind her. That specific day, everything changed as a tiny piece of paper was found under the bench Zendaya usually sits on in her private garden. A simple message non signed but somehow... recognisable, with a black feather attached to it and simply written:

“I’m alive. We need to talk.”

Zendaya kept her devilish correspondence with Tom to herself, being extremely careful each time a letter was sent by one or received by the other. The Superior Angel was the best help Tom needed to bring back (Y/N) to him, even if Zendaya was not really in favour of that idea, at first. But she was the most sensible angel - with (Y/N) - in Heaven and the determined one wishing for a change.

A true and concrete change had to happen. Now or never.

And that is how Zendaya planned (Y/N)’s “evasion” with Tom’s help, also managing at the same time to not declare a war between both kingdoms and opening the minds of angels and demons. What a job, really. But it was worse it because since then, the impenetrable borders between the two worlds finally fell for good.

...

« « My Dear (Y/N),

I hope you are doing good. How is your pregnancy is going?

Recently, the Superiors Angels and I gathered to discuss about sharing our mutual files about the people arriving at the Purgatory’s Gates, but also about the “doubtful” ones. I broached this topic since a bit of time now, but you know how the Superiors are... Still reluctant about this and that, but we will slowly make it.

And how are Hell Boy and your beautiful kids? Hope they at least give you some rest time. Mostly Tom because this man is a mess by himself. I still wonder sometimes how he manages to do anything while you were not here (yet).

Anyway. Tell little Dottie and little Al I love them a lot, to be good and that I can’t wait to see you all again when your new little member will be here.

Wishing you all the happiness to you and your beautiful family.

P.S.: tell Tom to stop being a dick and to read that damn report I sent him last week because I need an answer fast now, thanks.

Sincerely, Zendaya. » »

(Y/N) tries to stop giggling at the last lines of the letter, but still couldn’t really help it. Her chest vibrates against her will, slightly shaking Tom out from his sleep.

❞ What in this letter is making my beautiful wife laugh? ❞ Tom asks sleepily, his voice hoarse and eyes still close as if waking up is not in his plans yet.

(Y/N) caresses and kiss the crown of his head still resting on her chest, now openly giggling at the sluggish mood of her husband.

“Zendaya is waiting for you to read a report from a week ago” the angel slowly starts, her fingers running along Tom’s neck as her lips don’t leave his forehead. “Also she is planning to come visit when our little one is born.”

Tom finally dares to raise his head and meet his wife’s sparkling eyes, his being drown into them again and a smile now on his face.

❞ I can’t wait for them to be born, I want to hold them in my arms so bad ❞ says Tom, kind of lost in his thoughts as he caresses (Y/N)’s stomach lovingly.

“Me too, I can’t wait” the angel replies, emotions of pure happiness overwhelming her entire body.

The two beings share a passionate kiss, full of love, in this moment of silence. Pure calm and solitude while Tom holds his dear queen softly in his arms and runs his hand over her growing belly. Neither of them have to say much in order to know what the other is thinking. This moment is not different.

The joyful laughers of their children in the background constantly remind them how grateful they both are to the Gods for allowing them such happiness.

* * * *

Finally the end of the day.

Tom feels beyond exhausted. As Harrison likes to stick to his plan as strict and a total pain in the ass as they usually are, his fellow demon friend assisted him during his afternoon’s duty in the throne room. All. Damn. Afternoon. Harrison didn’t let him have more than three-minute breaks because he wanted things to be done for good. And since the third heir is supposed to arrive in a few months, there was no way in Hell Harrison would let Tom increase his workload.

But now the night took place over the day long ago. The Underworld fell asleep little by little like the Castle itself. Tom exists the bathroom, heavy clouds of steam following him after an intense and thorough showering. The hot water helps his sore muscles to relax a bit, as he made a way too much good use of (Y/N)’s shower gel to erase the smell of blood and sweat stuck deeply in the pores of his body.

He lets out a sigh, his cheeks still red from the shower and finishs drying his buzzed head and neck with a towel. His wings moves from time to time to dry themselves from the remaining drops of water in them. Lazing throwing the towel back in the bathroom - hopefully in the laundry basket -, Tom adjusts his sweatpants and gazes at the silent and dark bedroom, guessing (Y/N) is still putting Dottie and Al to bed.

Taking advantage of it, the devil man flops down on the bed on his back. Sighing another time once he feels the fresh silk sheets under his skin, all his muscles even the thinest ones de-stress together. His wingspan unfolded is for sure impressive, covering all the bed in its length but the black feathers matching beautifully with the dark red silk sheets.

Complete silence. Only his slow breathing calming down as he closes his eyes, now taken into total darkness. Sometimes Tom remembers some of this kind of days, like today, when tones of judgements had to be done and then sentences to fall right after. And after he would just be like he is now, trying his best to empty his mind. Alone. And the next day, the same episode would repeat over and over again. Always alone.

But not anymore.

The faint click of the bedroom door opening takes Tom out of this thoughts as he slowly opens one eye to look towards it. Silently, (Y/N) appears and closes the door without a sound as soon as she steps a foot in the room. Then she turns to see her husband lazily laying on the bed, letting a little chuckle at the sight.

Such a pleasant sound. The demon King could hear his wife laugh all day, it is pure music to his ears and so much soothing. Sounding divine as looking heavenly.

Tom stares at (Y/N) from the bed noticing her wearing the bronze-nude coloured silk robe he offered her after Al’s birth, loosely tied up. This soft colour, almost looking gold, perfectly enhance her angelic figure as well as her magnificent white wings. His eyes then rakes over her body starting with her beautiful face to her shoulders then her voluptuous breasts, which now press more against the robe and finally down to the swelling of her stomach, which also stretches the silky fabric around her hips.

Tom bits his lip at this sight as he eyes the bump with a lustful look. In addition to not spending endless days and nights alone, feeling downhearted and helpless, (Y/N) is now blessing him with a third child, extending their happy family even more for both their enjoyment but also for the kingdom. The young man feels powerful like he never was, but mostly happy.

All this thanks to (Y/N) without whom nothing of this would have been possible.

“You’re done showering, darling?” asks the angel with her delicate voice, to which Tom simply nods. “Good. And the children are finally asleep.”

(Y/N) slightly stretches, a hand low on her back as she arches it to relieve some muscles. Recently Tom starts noticing some changes in his wife’s everyday life, such as flying more often when she could instead of walking, taking more naps and baths than usual, tiredness showing in her eyes or constantly stretching her back like right now. This being her third pregnancy it may seem understandable at some point, but Tom couldn’t help but worry about her well-being.

❞ Did you take a bath before lunch, love? ❞ wonders Tom as sitting normally on the bed.

“I did, yes but it only eased my back pain for two hours or so... And now, my stomach feels a bit swollen and heavy” sighs (Y/N), frowning a little.

She leans her head on one side while looking at Tom with an exasperated face. Her arms are crossed under her breasts, unintentionally opening the robe more on her accentuated cleavage. Being the perfect husband he is, Tom knows he has to do something... something that would help both of them, actually. It is like he almost planned in advance what is about to happen, wishing it with all his heart.

❞ Come here, sweetheart ❞ Tom breaths also tilting his head on his shoulder, his now hungry eyes never leaving (Y/N).

After slowly swaying her luscious hips while walking to him, (Y/N) then stops to stand in front of her husband, standing between his legs. She then could see his eyes darken as they trail down her body and stop at the swell of her belly that is now showing more than last month.

Knowing perfectly the effect she has on him, (Y/N) exhales longly which makes the robe slide from her shoulders and expose more skin of her upper body. She then run her left hand over the bump, the wedding ring shining brightly as it reflects naturally even with the lack of light in the room. Tom can’t help his hands to rest on the back of her thighs, fidgeting with the fabric of her robe still in between his caresses. Then the angel smiles when Tom’s mouth falls open to release a groan.

❞ Fuck. Get over here. Now. ❞

Tom pats his thigh and (Y/N) could just oblige, balancing her hands on both his shoulders. He grins up at his wife as she climbs onto his laps, both legs on the outside of his thighs to straddle him.

Immediately his hands find their way to her hips, still caressing a little over the silk material of the robe before he just unties it. And Tom couldn’t suppress the satisfied grin on his face as her matching nightgown appears in front of him. His angel being pregnant makes the fabric tighten around her breast and stomach, as much as its slightly raises to mid-thigh.

Tom then guides her to sit fully down on his thighs and chuckles when she sighs at the feeling. (Y/N) slowly flaps her white wings and takes her robe fully off, even around them, the clothing item cascading along her arms before falling at Tom’s feet.

❞ Comfortable like this? ❞ the demon asks cautiously, eyeing his wife’s face for any indication as to how she is feeling or what she is thinking about.

(Y/N) looks down at him with a small smile on her face, nodding. The chill air in the bedroom gives her goosebumps. She traces her hands over his broad shoulders, not without admiring his naked and muscular torso, before wandering her delicate fingers at the base of his nape. Tom’s eyes close once he feels her start to massage his buzzed scalp, and hums in pleasure.

He always loves to feel her hands on him, in general. It never fails to make his "friend down there” throb from excitement.

❞ (Y/N)… ❞

Tom whispers as he reaches up to grab the angel’s left hand before bringing it to his lips. He places a soft kiss on the golden ring, powerful symbol of their love and union, before brushing his rough but still soft lips over her knuckles. He turns her hand over so he can drag his lips across the gentle skin of her wrists, as his eyes stare deeply at her face.

When his lips continue to brush higher on her arm, he hears a sigh leave (Y/N)’s plush lips and watches as her eyes suddenly drop closed. Tom smiles softly against her skin.

❞ My beautiful wife and queen... ❞ he mumbles, never stopping his trail up the skin of her arm before moving to the other one, doing the same straight away. ❞ The strongest woman I know... So selfless... ❞ Tom pulls away from her skin to thread his fingers through her long hair and cradles the back of her neck in his hands.

❞ ... and all mine. ❞

With such sudden fervour, Tom brings (Y/N)’s mouth to his and kisses her, long and passionate. The angel melt in his arms, following his every lead as he bites her bottom lip. (Y/N) willingly opens your mouth to allow his tongue to battle with hers. She gasps in his mouth when he removes a hand from her hair to cradle her bottom, pulling her closer to him.

“T-Tom” she moans, kissing her husband with such urgency.

In all honesty, they did not have sex in two months - if not more which may be more actually and quite surprising - because taking care of one child is kinda alright, but two... is completely another story. And ever since (Y/N) got pregnant of their third one, Tom also had a lot of work to deal with while Dottie and Al still need a lot of attention. Constantly. So basically both adults were lately busy every day, the intimate time passing after anything else... and being almost forgotten, in then end.

Until now (Y/N) has not noticed how much she actually missed feeling Tom’s hot skin against her bare body. Being intimate with him is something otherworldly because, on top of knowing her body so well, the young woman feels secure in his arms. She always had. And in return, Tom would use that to his advantage whenever he wants to show (Y/N) exactly how he feels about her.

There is never a day that (Y/N) would ever get sick of being with the King of Hell, her husband. Totally unthinkable.

❞ You have no clue what you do to me, doll ❞ he growls, pulling away from her lips to trail his kisses across her jaw. ❞ I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you... How I got so lucky... ❞ Tom whispers against her ear before returning to ravish the skin of her neck with his teeth and tongue.

(Y/N) moans breathlessly when his tongue drags across her sweet spot before he sucks the patch of skin between his teeth.

“I’m the the lucky one, baby” she breathes out, bringing her hands back to his head. “You’ve been through so much all these past years, and yet you still find time for me and our children, even when I may not be in the best mood. There is no luckier person here than me.”

Tom’s eyes begin to burn as he pulls away from her neck and places his forehead against hers to look straight in the eyes.

❞ The shit I’ve put you through is nothing anyone should have to ever go through, and yet you’ve handled it all with such grace. Like the perfect Queen you are. There’s no one I admire and cherish more than you, (Y/N). You mean the world to me, darling. ❞

His hands move to cover the expanse of her swollen belly underneath her nightgown as he starts to caress the skin with his thumbs.

❞ You, Dottie, Al and this baby. ❞

Her lip trembles at his words, vision growing blurry with fresh tears. The love (Y/N) has for this man is indescribable. There were no words ever created to explain everything he means to her. He is everything she has ever needed and so much more. And knowing that he loves his kids just as much is definitely one of the best feelings in the world.

“God, I can’t even describe how much you mean to me, Tom. Truly, words do not compare” (Y/N) whispers to him, lips brushing against his as he smiles.

❞ Oh trust me, I know exactly how you feel ❞ the devil man chuckles, running his hands up and down her sides beneath the fabric.

There was a moment of silence between the two of them. Pure calm and solitude while Tom hold (Y/N) in his arms and ran his hands over her body. By now the two of them spent enough time together to memorise each other’s conducts during certain times. So, once Tom breathes softly against her neck, she knows the angel has to hear for herself exactly what is going through his head.

“What are you thinking about, baby?” (Y/N) inquires, pulling away to clearly see his face.

His coffee eyes are still dark, his chest heaving against her lush one. He could still feel her clothed heat against his thighs and now that they are so close, he could feel her stomach flat against his, the bump brushing against his naked abs.

He chuckles breathily before running a hand on top of his head, which creates a scratching noice under his palm.

❞ Would it be crude of me to say that your swollen stomach makes me hard? ❞

(Y/N) gasps in shock at his words, not expecting them in the slightest. Tom looks up at his angelic wife with a mischievous glint in his honey brown orbs, and she couldn’t help but then giggle at his typical cheeky attitude.

“It would but then again, you wouldn’t be Tom if you weren’t at least a little crude at times” she teases as she laughs when he feigns offense.

❞ Ooh you are in for it now, angel! ❞

Suddenly Tom chides before grabbing (Y/N) by the thighs and gently roll their bodies onto the bed, him being now on top of her. The angel squeals at the same time, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and arms winding around his neck.

He smiles down at her before moving down to kiss her, his lips gliding effortlessly against her mouth. The demon king loves to take her breath away with just a touch of his lips. Tom smiles against the angel’s lips while still gliding his lips across hers.

❞ Hope you’re ready, I’m about to rock the world of my gorgeous pregnant queen tonight ❞ Tom grins widely when (Y/N) lets out a loud laugh at his words.

“You’re being cheesy tonight, I see?” she giggles, her cheeks stretching widely to accommodate to the large grin on her perfect face.

Tom admires the glint of happiness in her eyes, with an ounce of mischief too, and tries to process the fact that he is the one and only man making this divine creature beneath him so happy.

❞ Yeah but I mean, you love that about me ❞ the man smirks, kissing (Y/N) on the corners of her mouth then cheeks, forehead and lastly her nose. ❞ And you signed up to it all when you married me so, no going back now pretty lady.❞

Her eyes flutter because of all his kisses, then she smiles softly at her husband.

“Oh yes, I did” she chuckles before continuing “And I love you with all my heart. And I always will” (Y/N) whispers, cupping his cheeks in her delicate hands before running her fingers over his defined cheekbones and jawline.

Tom can’t stop his eyes from burning with passion as his wife proclames her love for him once again.

❞ I love you ❞ he mumbles before capturing her lips for a passionate kiss.

Tom navigates his body fully between her legs, swallowing the strangled moan his angel release when he rolls his hips against her sore one. He then begins to push the silk fabric of her nightgown up to finally reveal her stomach, before he proceeds to cradle her soft visage in one hand while he places the other flat against her round and swollen belly.

He just growls when he feels the bump against his warm palm and pulls away from (Y/N)’s lips. He continues by devouring her neck as he pushes the nightdress higher up to reveal your bare breasts. The demon pulls away from her neck and stares down at her tempting curves and groans, his cock twitching at the sight.

❞ So fucking gorgeous ❞ Tom states breathlessly, reaching up to engulf gently her sensitive breasts in his large hands to massage them. His cock hardens and twitches again when (Y/N) moans from his touch, arching her back and rolling her hips against his to create some friction.

Tom grunts as he feels (Y/N) drag her hips against his still clothed hard-on and decides that both of them are wearing too many clothes for his liking.

He removes his hands from her breasts and tugs the nightdress over her head. The angel then leans up in order to let him take it off entirely, her white wings adjusting on her back. At the same time she also enjoys the sight of him, already standing half naked over her, his perfectly sculpted chest and abs making her bite her lip and almost drool.

Her husband is indeed handsome, breathtakingly beautiful, the scars on his back and shoulders only magnifying that beauty. Every time (Y/N) sees the multiple cuts he tried to hide at the beginning, all she wants to do is kiss every single one to remind her king that he should never be ashamed of them. Ever.

(Y/N) unconsciously licks her lips as she admires him. Tom catches it and smirks down at his wife, newfound confidence surging through his veins. She never fails to make him feel good about himself. One simple look needed and he could tell (Y/N) loves him no matter the scars on his body or who he is.

❞ Like what ya see, gorgeous? ❞ Tom rasps as he runs his hands up her sides, smirking when he feels her shiver beneath his touch.

“Always, baby.”

(Y/N) watches as he smiles ardently at her before he reaches up to cup her right cheek in his hand. He runs his thumb along your cheekbone and then drags the pad of his calloused finger across her bottom lip. The angel slightly turns her head into his palm and starts leaving open mouthed kisses onto it, as her hands wrap around his wrist to maintain him in place.

His eyes darken as watches (Y/N) starts lightly biting the skin of his palm, and then giving it little kitten licks. Tom curses softly when he feels his cock twitch painfully in his now too tight sweatpants, and he knows he can’t wait any longer.

Tom wants her so bad. He needs to have her. Right here, right now. Just the thought of feeling her wet insides flutter around his pulsing member takes the demon to some unholy places in his mind. And he loves it.

Almost reluctantly Tom removes his hand from her mouth and bends down to sloppily lick one of your sensitive nipples.

He hears (Y/N) gasp loudly before he sees her back arch, pushing her breast further into his mouth as he wraps his lips around the now hardening bud.

“Aah, Tommy-” she moans, trying her best to grind her hips against his.

When Tom feels her struggling to get some relief, he pulls away from her nipple with a loud ‘pop’. The angel starts letting out little whines at the loss of his hot tongue on her body.

❞ Worry not, my Queen ❞ Tom says huskily as he finally decides to tug her thin lace panties down her impeccable legs, revealing the secret garden that is her dripping heat to his hungry eyes. ❞ I will take good care of you, like I always do. ❞

He doesn’t tear his lustful gaze away from her, in awe as (Y/N) pants loudly underneath him. Tom then removes his sweatpants, not caring to untie them before hand, the fabric falling on the ground to now expose his naked glory because he definitely went commando after his shower.

The young queen gasps at the obscene yet erotic sight of his hard cock staying flat against his stomach, the tip red and swollen, leaking precum. She feels wetness pool between her legs and just moan, eyeing his hand as it wraps around his length and begins to pump slowly.

Tom eyes (Y/N)’s body hungrily from above her, moving his unoccupied hand to her pussy where he spreads her wet lips to rub her clit with his thumb, not without paying close attention to any sign of discomfort coming from his pregnant wife.

(Y/N) squeals, rolling her hips against his hand as much as her body allows her to, while Tom drags his fingers between her folds and massages her clit. When the angel feels him enter one finger into her clenching hole, she throws her head back and arches even more against his hand.

❞ Fuck baby girl, you are so wet ❞ Tom groans, pumping his hand faster around his cock.

“Tommy- Oh my-!” (Y/N) nearly screams when he adds another finger and pumps them harder and deeper into her warm insides.

Tom’s eyes widen when he looks back at her round stomach, which moves rapidly up and down as she breathes deeply. He feels his cock twitch in his hand and lets out a rough grunt, suddenly taking his fingers out of her core and removing his hand from himself.

❞ That’s it, I can’t fucking take anymore ❞ he growls, positioning himself between (Y/N)’s legs. He then gently grabs the back of her knees to pull her towards him, the angel whining when his hard cock brushes close to her core.

“Please take me, Tommy. I’m all yours, please” (Y/N) moans as she rolls her hips against his cock.

Tom feels like coming straight away but he resists somehow, instead brushing his pulsing member between her wet folds and flicking the head against her clit.

The demon king hovers over his wife’s body, placing his forehead against hers and balancing on his arms on each side of her head as he places the tip of his cock at her entrance. He looks into her bright eyes when he slowly enters the angel, her walls stretching deliciously around him.

Both beings moan in unison before Tom leans down to capture (Y/N)’s lips, swallowing every choked cries and whines as he begins to thrust in and out of her.

“Ooh Tommy, oh, aah-” she gasps breathlessly when he slams his hips into her bloated one.

❞ (Y/N)- ❞ Tom moans in return, pulling away to drop his head on her shoulder. He kisses the soft skin of her shoulder before thrusting faster and groaning into her skin. ❞ You are the best thing that ever happened to me, baby girl. ❞

His words bring tears to her eyes, thanks to the messy pregnant’s hormones,  and (Y/N) almost releases a cry as she pushes her hips in hope to meet with his thrusts. She can feel every ridge and thick vein of his cock as he drives it into her and the purely euphoric feeling makes her dizzy. The angel grabs onto Tom, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders and running a hand through his entire face, his thrusts intensifying even more.

“You are my world, Tommy. I love your more than anything and I promise to stay by your side until the end of the world” (Y/N) moans in his ear, reassuring him.

Tom grunts at his wife’s words, all kind of emotions mixing up in his head as he makes love to (Y/N). Suddenly, he slows his pace a little so now he is rocking into her deep and hard. She whines desperately at this change, grinding against his skin.

The demon pulls himself up so he can look between their bodies, carefully watching as he thrusts slowly in and out of her wet pussy. Then his brown eyes land on her visible baby bump and Tom feels himself pulse inside of her as his eyes roll into his head. He moans loudly, moving a hand between both their bodies to flatten it against her stomach.

❞ Shit angel, I’m s-so lucky to have you... The four of you” Tom almost whines, rolling his hips harder into hers as his pelvic now brushes against her clit.

“Tommy, I’m so close! Aah-” (Y/N) cries out at the feeling and throw her head back, arching against him more.

She then gasps when he growls violently before speeding up his thrusts again and literally drilling into her. (Y/N) grabs onto him tightly and drags her nails against his scalp, stealing a grunt from his chest.

Tom sloppily links his lips with hers when he feels the angel clench tightly around him, so he thrusts deeper and faster before moving the hand that was on her stomach to her clit.

❞ Come for me, my gorgeous wife. My gorgeous queen. Come for me ❞ Tom growls in her ear, rubbing her clit vigorously.

(Y/N) screams at the never stopping stimulation. Her legs start trembling and body shaking as she clenches around his member, coating his cock in cum as she finally reaches her orgasm. Tom watches closely as she comes undone beneath him and lets out a moan, his hips faltering as he releases his seed inside of her tight insides.

He flattens his hand on her belly, feeling the warm and sweaty skin of her baby bump again and comes harder, biting his bottom lip to prevent himself to be too vocal this late at night. Endless streams of his come splash against her walls, their juices mixing together, and Tom rides out both their orgasms until he just collapses his upper body on top of (Y/N).

“Oh lord, Tom, you’re heavy!” the angel huffs as she then giggles at her husband.

Tom only hums in response, his voice slightly hoarse from their previous activity, while wrapping his strong arms around her body. But not feeling too well in this position - also not to accidentally hurt (Y/N) -, Tom slowly lets himself slide on the sheet to now snuggle up against his wife’s frame, remaining inside of her.

(Y/N) looks up at him through her post-orgasmic vision and is pleased to notice him just cuddling onto her with closed eyes, his chest heaving with exhaustion. As a kind smile makes its way to her face, she leans up to kiss his jaw which makes him sigh gently.

“You are amazing Tom, in every way. An amazing king, husband and father. I am so proud of you” (Y/N) softly whispers to him, brushing delicately her fingers against his cheek.

The angel then proceeds to move her hand higher and massage his head, feeling the short buzzed hair brush her palm and paying extra attention to his nape, a bit sweaty. After enjoying her pleasant caresses, Tom opens one of his eyes to peak at the angel.

❞ I would be nothing without you, baby. Just useless, an empty envelop with no reason to live. ❞

(Y/N) looks absolutely breathtaking to him, and since the day they met. The amazing post-orgasmic glow that suits her so well is something he could look at for years. Her lips swollen and impossibly red like her cheeks, hair a mess and eyes half closed. And not forgetting her naked figure which the demon loves to worship during these intimate times, shining with sweat but still an absolute delicacy that only him can savour as he wants.

(Y/N) can feel him start to get slightly hard again when he brushes his fingers over her pregnant stomach. As his face never leaves its comfy place on her chest, the demon king silently wishes to feel his unborn heir move under his touch. His wife continues to leave kisses on his sweaty forehead, closing her tired eyes, almost falling asleep in the lovely embrace of her husband.

❞ ... I’m guessing your stomach doesn’t hurt anymore? ❞

Intrigued by this question, (Y/N) slowly reopens her eyes to lower her gaze on Tom’s face. As she raises her eyebrows, she has no time to answer before Tom speaks again.

❞ Sex is definitely THE best option to ease pregnancy pains. Not like I’m gonna complain about it. ❞

"You better prepare a warm bubbly bath for us and carry me there, before I get upset” states (Y/N), her cheeks even redder now because of Tom’s stupid comment.

And the devil king can’t suppress his cheeky smirk as his wife avoids his gaze, still being cute.

❞ Your wish is my command, my Queen! ❞

* * * *

The bedroom is still plunged into darkness, but the daylight manages to make its way through an open spot left by the curtains. Humming as she slowly wakes up, (Y/N) blinks a few times before staring at the ceiling of the bedroom. Her hands go to her belly by instinct, massaging it as she draws circles on it, before she turns her head towards Tom.

Still fast asleep, the demon king did not move since they both went to sleep - after taking another bath together and dressing up for the night. His build frame stays on the side, an arm under (Y/N)’s head and his free hand resting at the bottom of her now covered stomach.

(Y/N) brushes her plump lips on his chin to then leave a light kiss on his lips, carefully to not wake him up. She links one of her hands with his own that stays on her stomach, intertwining their fingers.

But as the young queen tries to fall back asleep, her mother’s intuition goes on alert and her head turns towards the door of the bedroom. No sound can be heard on the other side of the room, only a deep and calm silence that resonates in the whole castle. When suddenly...

*tap tap tap*

The almost faint noise of footsteps slowly increase in the corridor, now catching the full attention of (Y/N). One corner of her lips raises, perfectly knowing the owners of this sound. Tom still being in the arms of Morpheus, mouth parted enough to let some soft snores at times, the angel prefers to not move until the “special guests” make their final appearance.

And speak of the devil (no pun intended, or not)...

The doorknob starts to slowly turn, creating a quick and discreet ‘click’ which allows the door to finally open. (Y/N) keeps watching closely towards it, trying to see through the half-open door. And as expected, a double pair of eyes can be seen, a bit sleepy, and little by little two very familiar round faces appear.

Dottie and Al immediately find their mother’s eyes as if asking for her permission to enter the matrimonial bedroom. After warmly allowing both her children with a nod and a smile, the two tiny beings make their way inside, Dottie making sure to silently close the door behind her little brother and her, and then fly together towards their parents.

As they kiss their mother on the cheek and tummy - because they already care a lot about their unborn brother or sister -, little Al notices his father still sound asleep between the sheets. Not needing to be asked twice, the little boy careful goes between both his parents’ bodies and tries to make himself some place as he goes under the cover. Tom lightly groans at the movements next to him, but only secures his grip tighter around his wife plus now his young son. (Y/N) then opens the sheets with her free hand, inviting her daughter to join their cuddle. Dottie goes also under the warm sheet, getting close to her mum and snuggling against her. Feeling yet another presence in the bed, Tom’s hand which already maintain (Y/N) and Al close to him now reaches for his daughter.

The silence of the early morning remains still. (Y/N) lets out a pleased sigh, getting even more confortable between the soft warmth of the bed and her loving family. Slowly, sleep overcomes her and her children all over again, soon joining the head of the family for another resting time into dreamland.

Who could have thought about having this delightful type of afterlife?

* * * *

Ten months later.

.

.

« « Who’s the most beautifuuuuuul baby of all time? » »

❞ Give me back my daughter, Z... ❞

Happy babbles echo in the living room, animated first by Tom who tries to take back his five-month daughter Mia from Zendaya’s grasp, and on the other hand Dottie and Al playing together next to the group of adults.

(Y/N) sat on the large couch next to her husband, giggling at his attitude as he almost makes grabby hands to Zendaya, hoping she would finally give the newly born child to him. (Y/N) lovingly caresses his back, getting close to him and eyeing her third child in the arms of her trustful friend from Heaven.

“Thank you for visiting us, Zendaya” begins (Y/N), “Mia seems to like you already.”

« « Obviously she loves her godmother a lot, right little one? » » smiles Zendaya as she keeps smiling widely to the baby, tickling her tummy to make little Mia show her toothless smile again.

Tom couldn’t help the grown leaving his mouth, lightly banging his head against (Y/N)’s. The angel queen kisses his temple in hope of appeasing her husband’s pouting face.

On Mia’s back, two tiny wings start growing slowly. The colour of her feathers is still undetermined but it may be a mix of white and black ones, like her eldest sister and brother. Mia’s features will for sure be a beautiful mix of her parents, her eyes already big and kind like her mother’s and deep brown like her father’s.

Harrison enters the living room, bringing a rolling cart with different drinks and delicacies on it. Both Dottie and Al stop playing as they hear it coming their way, their throat dry and little stomach empty after so much playtime. Dottie stands first and waits for Harrison to stop the cart, meanwhile Al goes to his father asking for some attention. The demon king immediately takes his son in his arms, sitting him on his laps.

‘Can I get some apple juice for Al and I, please Haz?’ Dottie politely asks the demon.

‘ Of course, dear. Right away. ‘

Dottie brings the first glass to her brother, carefully passing it in his little hands before asking the others if they want to drink something too.

“Just a glass of water for me, sweetheart. Dad will share his wine with me.”

❞ Hmm, I still need to think about that, beautiful ❞ replies Tom with a cheeky tone, while slowly kissing his wife’s cheek which makes her chuckle.

« « Don’t get all lovey-dovey in front of your kids, dammit. Gross, ew! Al, look at auntie Daya. » »

❞ Don’t swear in front of my children! ❞

Once everyone got served their drink, Dottie flies back to her mother to sit on her laps, enjoying her apple juice as she vividly looks at everyone but mostly at her new little sister. Then Harrison prepares two little plates to fill with some homemade cakes for both his godchildren.

❞ Honestly, Harrison is killin’ it at being a good godfather with the kids. They might start loving him more than you if you- ❞

« « Shut up, Hell Boy » » interrupts Zendaya, upset but still with her usual sass.

“The kids would love to see you more often, Zendaya” softly takes part (Y/N) while sipping into Tom’s wine glass before giving it back to him.

Zendaya deeply sighs and looks at little Mia catching Al’s index finger into her tiny fist. She brushes the baby’s wild growing hair back while caressing the tender rosy skin with her finger, not helping the smile on her face.

« « I know, (Y/N) and I want to but sometimes, I’m just overflowing under work. It’s not easy to be a Superior Angel, trust me. » »

❞ Being the King of Hell AND a father at the same time is not easy either, trust me on that ❞ sighs Tom back, ❞ But I’ve never been happier so I can’t complain at all. ❞

Tom smiles lovingly at (Y/N), making the angel sit closer to him and snuggle her face against his. Dottie also cuddles with Al as the two siblings look at little Mia, who constantly watches around anything that happens.

The scene warms Zendaya’s heart.

« « Also, you are all welcome to come to Heaven, you know that, right? Mostly because of business talk and all that jazz, but the Superiors would be glad to meet little Mia too » » continues Zendaya as she strokes Mia’s cheek.

“We were actually discussing about it with Tom the other day” says (Y/N), sorting out the feather’s mess of her children because of their last playing session. “Dottie and Al want to visit Heaven again too, am I right?”

‘YES PLEASE!’ both Dottie and Al screams together, little Al saying something like that because he is still too young to talk properly.

(Y/N) and Zendaya laugh at so much energy coming from the children. As Tom put his now empty glass away, he nods to Harrison to join them on the couch as he slides an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders and kisses her cheek.

Heaven and Hell might be opposite places with different rules and ways of thinking.

But in the end, they both have the same goal: giving the right afterlife to people, and fixing their faults when mistakes were done.

.

.

- - -   END OF ‘HEAVENLY YOURS’ MINI SERIES  - - -

🏷 Permanent tag list & mutuals 💖 (get notified)

@allegra-writes @tom-holland-is-spiderman @detroitbydark @blissfulparker @farfromhaz @xxtomxo @worldoftom @charismas-world  @stiles-banshees @americaxo17 @zabdisamor @princezzariel @mcuassemble @thatweirdomimic @juliebean247 @harryhollandwhore @spiderbibby @intiate03 @himynameishooman @bookworm06 @flowerboyparker @miraclesoflove @eridanuswave @jillanaholland @mendes-marvel @biebsmylife95 @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @tsh-darling @popbubblegumpop @fanficscuziranout

🏷 Heavenly Yours tag list 🕊🔥 (get notified)

@shayminisshiny @skymoonandstardust​ @blissfulparker​ @sectusempried @iwastornsincethestart @the-professional-procastinator​ @bloodyscarlet​ @loxbbg​ @biebsmylife95​

[faggerardway]

an explanation for a soulmate

(inspired by @inkskinned and also my own bullshit)

the concept of doing one thing for forever is one i do not like.

to rewrite a poem until perfect-

my hands are already flying across the keys, pressing buttons with no rhyme or reason to them and making a sunset, a first snowfall, your hand on my back, a squirrel in a window, broken glass on the study floor, laughter in dark and secret places, the wet grass that accompanies a new day, a new life. my heart is made of sorrowful and soulful things, and so is it any wonder that they sometimes blend, is it so strange that i would compare our love to corpses and hungry animals and horrid things from anatomy textbooks, and yet also lavender and holy light and freshly picked fruit? the rose and its thorns are inseparable, my dear, these are things we know and yet forget so easily.

to study a text until the pages are worn-

my eyes are already four paragraphs ahead of the teacher’s, but my mind has left me on wings of association, flown from a window, birds in an airport, there’s a horse loose in a hospital! my mother lost her wallet in an airport once, and i remember the numb, timeless feeling of waiting. i half-read the signs on all the kiosks until my eyes nearly bled, and when my cousin (who, funnily enough, does look a bit like john mulaney) asked me what i was doing, i told him i was letting my brain go, a magician freeing his doves from a silk hat.

to practice a song until each note is right-

my fingers stumble as they dance like they’ve had a bit too much wine, the scales and arpeggios blending into the solfeggieto blending into the good omens theme and killer queen and lady stardust and my father pokes his head in and tells me that it isn’t all the way, but what would be the point of all the way when all the way takes time, time you do not have when you know you’re already a large chunk of the way through your short, short life. nihilistic or realistic, you won’t know until the end of it all, and that not-knowing is horrifying and awe-inspiring, deserving of sweeping symphonies and moments of silence and all the funny little things we do to respect our inevitable end.

even now-

i’m meant to be doing a theatre assignment, but that turned into messaging an online friend, which then became reading a poem and wanting to encapsulate that yearning feeling, catch it like a third-grader grabbing at fireflies, and the poem i started in response to that urge was going to be about how i love you like no one else and i could study you for hours because you, angel, you are a puzzle that i could put together a thousand times and each end result would be something different yet even more impossibly beautiful than the last, but my brain, my flyaway brain, hooked onto the rhythm of a poem about chaos, and thinking, and some strange brand of apologetic love, and now i am humming a tune i don’t know as my typing speeds faster than the computer can manage to transcribe, and this poem is beginning to sound like a goldfish swimming in repetitive circles around its bowl, making and consequently getting sucked into a whirlpool-

and maybe this poem is a poem, and maybe it’s an animal where an animal Should Not Be, and maybe it’s a breeze that ruffles a dove’s feathers or a blade of grass or a surgery scar or a chain-link fence or a heartbeat or maybe it’s the only way i know how to say please understand, love, i’m going so fast that i cannot keep up, maybe it’s my spinning-at-a-standstill way of saying i adore you so furiously, ardently, desperately, even if i sometimes fly so far away you cannot hear me say it.

and maybe it’s just a poem, and maybe i should stop writing so i can go set the table for dinner before this just-a-poem is too pretentious and my mother has to ask me again.

love always,

-ros

[evolutionsvoid]

As a natural historian who has gained quite a few rings from the field, I have had the time and experience to pick up patterns and phenomenons that show up in my line of work. While I usually refer to the specimens and environments that I study, the more peculiar occurrences can often show up in places you never think to look. When I visit new places for research, I make it a habit to talk with the locals and get an idea of the land and culture that surrounds me. Usually I focus my thoughts on the species I have selected for observation, but over time I have found that the people I talk to wind up telling me a lot about the creature and themselves at the same time. The questioning and conversation shows what people think of the species, or how they view the entire natural world itself! Ask enough folk around the world, and you start to pick up on some patterns. One of the more obvious phenomenon to note is the desire to label anything big, scary and angry a "dragon." Those familiar with my work should already know quite well how I feel about that behavior. It is a case where people allow first impressions to condemn an entire species, refusing to look any further before calling it a monster. This line of thinking is quite similar to another pattern I have noticed, and that is ugly gross creatures are given no value, while cute pretty ones can often be given too much. To many, the icky stinging insect or the foul corpulent lizard has no purpose to the world, and thus its removal is acceptable. They dare not believe that these creatures have an important role, as those that are hideous cannot have any beauty! A concept spoken by tongues ignorant of the durian! It is often these same folk who then also believe that the adorable and beautiful ones are sacred and paramount to the whole ecosystem! I find it to be a rather messed up system! I know that I myself have called things pretty or ugly, but never would I allow such thoughts to dictate the value of a species existence! One must realize that the dung beetle and the butterfly are one in the same! They are crucial to the environments they dwell in, and seeking to eliminate one of them will often destroy all of them. I apologize for going off on a tangent, but I do so because this line of thinking is what plagues certain species and brings much misery to innocent lives. It creates folk who praise the fragrant blossoms of a tree while chopping away at its gnarled roots. I just wish others could understand that every species plays an important role to the world they live in, regardless of their odor or looks. Judging them only by their appearances is quite shallow and keeps you from seeing their true potential. The reason I have delved into this subject for so long is because I wished to talk about the Colompo, a species that is often scorned for it looks. Folk call them pests and plague bringers, treating them as if they were disease-ridden rats. To them, Colompos are useless stinky garbage eaters, and to that I cry foul! Do they eat garbage? Yes! Are they stinky? Absolutely, but they are far from useless and I will explain why! To start, let us examine what a Colompo is. At first, it may be a bit hard to understand what group it belongs to. It has the comb of a bird, the scales of a reptile and the fur of a mammal, so which is it? The answer is: Mammal! Scaly skin and bird-like structures are nothing new to the mammal class, so these features are quite normal for the Colompo. They have fur on their bodies, teats for feeding their young and bodies that can generate their own warmth. They scurry about on two bird-like legs, while their forearms have developed into fan-like structures that run down their backs. Though they give the impression of wings, the Colompo cannot fly or even glide. That doesn't stop these critters from flapping them wildly at times, usually when they get excited or are trying to scare off predators. They have a long prehensile tail that aids in balance and manipulation, it also comes in handy when they are hiding in the trees or other high up places! These tails end in an arrow-like point, but these structures are not hard nor sharp. Certain folk claim the Colompo use them as spears to impale prey, but these are floppy and are unable to pierce flesh. On their heads, they possess a rooster-like comb of a purplish color, though the structure is a bit more flamboyant on the males. They have large pointed ears and big round eyes, both of which are used to monitor their surroundings. A powerful nose helps them sniff out scent trails that will lead them to food, which brings us to an important part of the Colompo and the stigmas that surround them: their diet. It is funny how the diet of a creature creates so many assumptions in the mind of the public. If it eats plants, it must be peaceful (try saying that to the Khalkotauroi)! If it eats meat, it is evil and mean (I got some bad news about whales)! If it happens to eat dead things, then many call them gross and unsettling, usually leading to people chasing them off or hunting them down. The Colompo is a creature that lands in the latter category, as they are scavengers. In truth, they are considered omnivores, as they do munch on worms, grubs, fruit and any tasty morsels they find, but a huge part of their diet comes from rotting meat. Like mammalian vultures, they seek out carcasses and hurry to the scene, eager to chow on any leftovers they can get. Their teeth are good for gripping and pulling off pieces of tough meat, while their back molars do well against small bones and hardy chunks. Their toes are quite dexterous, which can help them grab hard-to-reach goodies or anchor them down as they yank on a stubborn strip of flesh. When they find a carcass, they will try to gorge as much as they can, storing food in special pouches in their neck. They are quick to feed because they know many others are competing for the same corpse, and often larger scavengers will aim to claim the whole carcass for themselves. At the size of a dog, they can try to push back against bullies at the dining table, but most Colompo will back down and scurry away. However, they do not run far off, as they prefer to use sneakiness over violence when it comes to getting food. While the new owner of the carcass focuses on their meal, the Colompos will quietly creep back to the scene. Colompos tend to travel in groups, and even if they were solo, a large enough corpse to bring in a feeding frenzy will draw in quite a few of these critters. When pushed away from their food, Colompos will band together to get a few more mouthfuls of food. When this happens, a few of them will rush in to harass the owner. This often involves nipping at tails, squawking loudly, spitting, spraying and being an absolute nuisance. Irritated, the larger beast will move to chase them off, leaving the carcass unattended for a few crucial moments. The other Colompos will rush in and grab what they can, scattering once the angry owner comes charging back. They will do this quite a few times, gaining a bit more food each time. Eventually they will relent, and the morsels they gathered will be shared amongst the group. 

While big carcasses are a favorite of the Colompo, they will go after any piece of rotten meat they can find. No matter how small the morsel, their nose will find it and they won't let it escape their hungry mouths. With this, they tend to be found anywhere that has spoiled food or rotting meat. Combine it with the fact that Colompos can be found in quite a few environments, and you have a rather widespread critter. From forests and swamps to city dumps and graveyards, the Colompo will be there. It is here where the trouble between the public and the Colompos begins. Since they are opportunistic omnivores and gleeful scavengers, they tend to get into places where they aren't wanted. Trashcans, junkyards, butcher shops and cemeteries can be feeding grounds for the Colompo as well as a headache for residents. Their dining can be a bit messy and their eagerness to go after fresher food can lead to comical and frustrating scenarios. From distracting customers to steal from a produce stand, to clambering on top one another to reach a cooling pie, Colompos will try anything to snag a meal. Unfortunately, this also means munching upon the recently deceased, as unattended graveyards can be buffets for them. Knowing that they will feed on a human corpse has cemented them as vile ghouls and evil creatures in the minds of many. To see the carcass of a former friend or family member be greedily devoured by hungry Colompos is a revolting thought, so many are quick to eradicate them if they start snooping around. I imagine they get the same reputation as vultures, as omens of death and bringers of disease, which is quite unfair! Since the Colompos will feed upon corpses, they have been associated with death and plagues. To see a roaming band of these critters means that disease and blight is sure to follow. Many are quick to point out that towns ravaged by sickness are often infested with Colompos, who surely brought this misery down upon the village folk. When the cattle drop dead in the field, who is there first? The Colompo. When the corpse wagons drop off diseased bodies at the pits, who happily greets them? The Colompo. So often do they show up around pandemics and death that people believe it is they who bring the plagues. Since this is seen as truth, Colompos are actively hunted and killed when they are spotted around cities and towns. Traps and poisons are often set out, and many farmers are quick to send the dogs after them when the Colompos start showing up. Those who attack them, though, are sure to be careful, as these plague bringers are surely not to be messed with. Their fangs drip with a necrotic venom that will rot your arm right off your body within seconds! Their spit harbors more then twenty plagues, and a single bite will cause your flesh to turn purple and swell until it bursts like a pus-filled balloon! They possess sacs that are filled with a foul acid that they spray at the faces of attackers, melting the flesh down to the bone! They will attack with the coordination and ferocity of a demonic legion, springing from the shadows with toxic jaws and tearing apart foes within sec- WHAT A LOAD OF RUBBISH! Just a heap of gall-infested junk that is nothing but the yapping of fools and the embellishment of attention seekers! How I wish I could tear up every page and scroll that spouts this wilting garbage! Colompos aren't venomous! They don't attack in groups! They don't spray acid, though they do spray a foul smelling substance at foes. You see, they have glands along their sides and near their rear that secretes a liquid that reeks like a rotten fish that was glazed and left out in the sun for a few weeks. When threatened they at first stand up tall, fan out their back flaps and puff up their chests. They hiss and growl, but do not lunge or seek to bite. If the attacker still charges forth, they turn tail and blast a stink trail behind them as they flee. Believe me, this stuff reeks and it doesn't come off easy! Get coated with it and be prepared to be banned from every town for the next three weeks! Some say tomato juice helps get the stench off, while others suggest really strong soap. My personal solution was to visit Marsh Dryad settlements and stay in their company. Their odor overpowered the one emanating from me, and I received quite a few compliments for my personal stench! Anyways, where was I? Oh yes, THEY DON'T SPRAY ACID! Absolutely preposterous, I say! Don't people ever do research before they write things down?!   No matter how many people claim it is the truth or how many scrolls present it to be so, Colompos are not bringers of pestilence! There have been many studies on Colompos over the years, and none have found that they carry these diseases in their bodies. The only reason they constantly show up during these plagues is because they are scavengers, you fools! They eat carcasses, so obviously they would go to where the bodies are piled the highest! The death and decay that comes from a sick village will lure them in, as they view it as a promising spot for food. Not only do they not cause plagues, but so far we have found that they are good for slowing them! Colompo stomach acid is quite powerful, and it is capable of destroying any disease that lingers in the meat they consume. By devouring virulent corpses, they can actually keep others from being infected! If the sickness is spread by parasites like fleas, Colompos can eat those as well! These creatures are important for cleaning up carcasses and removing sickness from the environment. The droppings they leave behind are free of these diseases and wind up nourishing a whole other group of creatures and plants! They do all this, and we thank them with hate and disgust?! How rude! Do you spit upon your garbage collector? Do you thumb your nose at the fellow who cleans latrines? Hopefully you say "no," because if you say "yes" than I really don't know what to do with you. I find it to be a darn shame that Colompos are forever associated with disease and death, as the species has so much more going on with them. I want to move away from the subject of plagues and instead talk about some of the other wonderful things about Colompos! The big one is that they are utter goofballs! They love to socialize with others of their kind, and it involves all sorts of running and playing. They scurry about and flap their fins wildly like crazed chickens! They make all sorts of stupid noises, and the way they stare with tongues hanging and drool dripping is quite hilarious! I honestly find them to be something out of a children's book, how comical they can be and how goofy their antics are. They are also good mothers! Colompos can have litters from about six to ten, and the mothers care for them until they are grown. They carry their young upon their backs, using their fins to protect them and shelter them from the elements. It is a good thing they can have so many babies, as it helps keep their populations strong despite the efforts of horrible people! I have also found that there are some that keep Colompos as pets! The owners are usually Marsh Dryads or similar hybrids, as strong odors is no bother to them, though I have seen others keep them around. A few Ghilani have been seen keeping Colompos, and I have heard that a human or two has done the same. Though I don't know if I could withstand the smell every day, I certainly applaud those that show such affection for these misunderstood creatures! Hopefully more folk get educated about the real facts about these creatures, and we can begin to show our appreciation for all they do!                   Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian ------------------------------------------------ This is a piece I finished recently that was dragon-based, so I decided to post it for Smaugust because it seemed fitting. This critter was made with the help of Lediblock2 , who had brought up the weird mammal/reptile rat lizard things that were supposed to be dragons in medieval paintings. Honestly they look more like the kind of beast that would raid a trashcan instead of a castle, and that was the concept they brought up. It was a fun idea to play with, and it resulted in this wonderfully gross little furball. They stink and eat garbage, but they are actual pretty nice creatures once you get to know them!

[equalseleventhirds]

this episode fed me so well in so many ways BUT ALSO i’m gonna soup the fear. bcos there were SO MANY fears smushed into this one i LOVED it

(warning for quotes from the episode itself, ofc)

end: ok yeah the whole thing

eye, like a LOT of eye: ‘waiting granite and watching marble’, ‘these graves, they are not silent - they are listening’, ‘they keep their eager vigil’, ‘telling you that it has something to show you, secrets that it wishes to share’, ‘keep it to yourself, though. don’t mention it', ‘the faceless gaze of each sepulchre angel fixes itself upon you’, ‘so keenly aware of the stark imprint you would leave, the marks of your presence’, ‘you know that nothing escapes his eyes’, ‘One hundred and sixty pairs of misty eyes follow your slow procession down the room’, ‘why are her eyes open?‘

spiral? ‘the dates do not make sense’, ‘it calls itself a home, but it lies’

a little dark! which i don’t often get from s5 statements, altho that MIGHT be my fault for being unobservant. anyway: ‘the avenues of darkened, not-quite-moonlit, paving slabs’, ‘jagged peaks of darked wood, and windows from which no light escapes’, ‘a dark shadow moves, a shape that seems to slither from the coffin’

the like, threat of buried: ‘paving slabs, which buckle ever so slightly every step, as though the soil beneath is damp and yielding. hungry’, ‘keep to the middle of the narrowing alley’, ‘the stones, the ones beneath your feet that sink and shift on the swampy ground’

hunt (and like, more so after that one hunt domain that was abt ppl turning against u for acting wrong): ‘a comment, a word, a breath out of place against which they might strike’

corruption: ‘a bloated, purple tongue that tries to whisper reassurance, but can only gurgle promises that smell like sour fruit’, ‘lakes of fly-blown blood’, ‘the air smells of decay and lavender and something else you can’t quite place’, ‘the gushing flow of love and forgiveness you vomit out into the nodding crowd’

vast too, ‘how big is this place? how many miles of eerie edifice’, ‘away and around and away they stretch, row upon row’

mmmmmaybe desolation? ‘the scars that lattice across your body ache and burn at the sight of the one who gave them to you’ has the burning and the destruction vibes but also... could be slaughter?? hm.

‘how can they not smell the blood she spilled? the path of scars and pain she left behind her every minute of her life? she was a monster, brutal and unrepentant’ fucking vibes slaughter-wards tho, and ‘the needle-sharp teeth of her corpse begin to dig into your shoulder’ feels slaughtery AND fleshy

there is... some loneliness in walking among the graves, in being the only living among the dead, and in standing before dozens of people who do not understand your pain and want to hear you lie, but like... there aren’t specific phrases i could find? but it’s a Feeling for sure

i’m... not sure if the faceless angels and the thing abt zombie faces Totally Not Stained With Sin counts as stranger? the fear didn’t seem to be like, about how strange they were, they just happened to be... blank and wrong and stuff. hm.

web (not in the spider sense, in the control sense, which i am noting more and more, not bcos there’s more just bcos i NOTICED it): ‘behind you comes the inescapable, the inevitable sound of an old wooden door being opened’, ‘you feel yourself turning back towards the house, though every muscle in your body screams at you to run’, ‘his hand moves and you move with it, unable to stand against the unyielding strength of his simplest gesture’

fsdljfjk and i’ve hit all 14 now (altho a couple are only Sorta) so might as well say, zombies are the end but they also belong to the extinction, fuck u i do what i want, especially if they’ve got that ‘blood left to bake in the unrelenting sun’ thing going on, and also the idea that they’ll destroy u and be left when u are gone. bingo, even if it’s a stretch in Several places.