#and he’s been turned - against his will- into a manifestation of the devil that killed his family/he hates most

[blueish-bird]

(Chainsaw Man Spoilers)

AU where Aki survives Part 1 and now not only has to deal with the existential horrors of his new state of being but is also incredibly allergic to dogs, so he lives in the apartment next door to Denji, Nayuta, and their dozen-or-so huskies. (He’s not as allergic to cats, but Meowy likes Denji more than him.)

[lina-lovebug]

I'd Fight The Devil

Alastor x fem! reader

Background: (Y/N) is the elder Morningstar, and wants to fix her relationship with her dad. But her dad hates her boyfriend.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 - Finale

Allusions to sex, actual sex, angel being angel, and cannibalism

_____

Angel spit out his drink, "You're with Alastor?!"

"Yeah, thoughts?"

"And prayers, girl," Angel could never imagine a sweet girl like (Y/N) getting it on with the Radio Demon himself.

But everyone has their kinks, he supposed.

Alastor manifested behind her, and she immediately felt his presence. Pressing herself against him, he leaned into her warmth and kept his arms around her shoulders.

"How was your day, mon amour?"

"It'll be even better," She trailed off, turning around to face him, "when we meet my dad for dinner."

Silence.

And not even radio silence.

"Not to be rash, but I'm sure your father would sooner see my head on a pike than on my body," Alastor adored the fact that she was mending their bond, even more so when Lucifer makes the effort.

But announcing their relationship to him?

He could see it ending in flames.

"I know you two don't get along, but I thought a nice dinner might smooth things over."

"And if he disapproves of us?" He lifted her head upwards with his finger, bemused as to what her answer may be.

"Then he'll have to get used to it," (Y/N) replied, sending a shiver of excitement up his spine.

Only a feeling that the she-devil he was utterly obsessed with could provide.

"Ugh, can you guys go fuck somewhere else?" Angel said, "or at all? I can't imagine going a lifetime without dick."

Alastors eye twitch, "now that's our business, isn't it?"

"Okay, okay," Charlie spoke up, "you guys go get ready."

Charlie couldn't help but notice the change in Alastor. It had only been a few months, but being in her sisters presence alone has made him kind. Sure, the both of them would skin someone alive over an insult, but Alastor would rip out his own eyes if (Y/N) asked.

A perfect match.

(Y/N) dawned a black dress with a pearl necklace that Alastor bought for her. Well, she thinks he bought it but he actually stole it off of a fresh kill.

How sweet.

"Pumpkin! Oh look at you! You're as radiant as ever!" Lucifer fawned over his daughter as they made it to the restaurant, making it a point to ignore the red demon behind her.

"Catching strays?" Lucifer gestured to him.

"Lovely to see you again," Alastor retorted.

"Dad, why don't we go inside? And Alastor will be joining us," now, Lucifer didn't forget what he said. He recognized that the fearsome deer demon had the intention of claiming Princess (Y/N) as his own, but did his daughter return such feelings?

Honestly, Lucifer feared that.

Not it being Alastor persay, but his little girls being hurt.

He knew how awful it felt to go through the divorce with Lilith, and then her disappearance.

He didn't ever want his daughters to feel that way.

"So, Alastor, what do you do again?"

"I have a radio broadcast. Your daughter has actually helped me repair the studio after the attack," He laid his land on hers.

And Lucifer picked up Alastors hand.

And placed it away from hers.

"Uh, dad-"

"Look, if you two are fucking, don't tell me."

"Dad!" Her face burned red, "we aren't-that's not. . .I love Alastor, and he loves me. I want you to accept us both."

"Love? Whoa, whoa, whoa! Pumpkin, I don't think-"

"I'm not a little kid," She interrupted, "I'm a grown woman, and I'm able to make my own decisions. I want to be with Alastor because I love him. You may not think I know what love is, but I know it's what I feel with Alastor."

That's when he saw it.

That look.

Whilst (Y/N) was defending herself, defending their love, Alastor looked at her. Only her. And it was like he was staring at the nebula itself, seeing all its beauty in the Heir of Hell. His smile faltered, closing his mouth, and his eyes softened.

It's the same look that he used to give Lilith.

"If I ever hear that you've made her cry, or even laid a single hand upon her," Lucifer stared him down, "I'll make you disappear."

"A man true to his word. Looks like we have something in common," Alastor agreed, his hand back on hers. She gave him a smile, one that reminded him of Lilith.

The rest of dinner went off without any incidents. The small jab here and there, but no one died, and no one was stabbed. Lucifer learned more about his daughters business and how she lit up talking about it.

"You hardly ate, Alastor. Is something wrong?" (Y/N) asked when her father went to the restroom.

"Oh no, my dear. Just hungry for something else, is all," His eyes raked up her form, earning a cough from the she-devil.

Honestly, she didn't know where he was on his spectrum. She was fine never even being intimate, so long as he was happy, but this spark in his eyes lit a fire within her.

"O-oh. . .are you sure?" Believe it or not, (Y/N) had only had sex twice and both times she'd call it lackluster.

"I don't want you to force yourself if you don't want to," oh how innocent she was. Honestly, Alastor assumed he was aroace before he met the she-devil. Her ferocity - her chaos in fights, her genuine kindness, and her soul - itself brought out that spark.

There are moments where the carnal desire needs to be satisfied.

"Mon cher, I'd never ask if I didn't mean it."

That look, it made her softly gasp.

"Alast-"

"Ew."

Right.

Lucifer.

He showed up from his restroom break and found the pair giving eachother "fuck me" eyes.

"Could I eat my dinner without you groping my child?" Lucifer hissed, despite Alastor only touching her hand.

He blinked, thinking how he's never even groped a woman.

"Maybe."

Sick bastard.

_ _ _ ☆ _ _ _

"Fuck! Alastor!"

(Y/N) had never cum before, so Alastor being her first to ever do so and smiling away at her quivering legs made it so much better.

"Oh fuck. . ." She moaned weakly, his tongue slithering in and out of her to lick up every last drop.

"Al. . ." She was breathless, staring at his strained member. Reaching up to unzip his pants, he tutted as he grabbed her wrist.

"Al?"

"It's about you. Don't worry about me, amour," He purred, kissing the bite marks on her thighs.

"But you-"

Before she could detest further, wishing to satisfy him, the door opened.

"Oh my God, they were right! Alastor, you sly dog," Angel Dust was at the door, and Alastor quickly covered his beloveds' body with the covers before his horns started to grow and his back stretched.

"I'm going to kill you."

"Not before you make love to me, you're not," still in his demonic form, (Y/N) blew a gust of wind to slam the door shut.

Her body displayed on the bed, Alastor agreed.

"And stay in that form. It suits you."

[taigan-hse]

The new season of Doctor Who is giving me some problems.

To be clear, I’m having fun. But in each episode there’s always something that makes me go “but..wait… how does that work?”

Space Babies

It’s been the longest since I watched this so I’m not positive but did they explain why the babies had developed intelligence while keeping infant bodies? Did they build the strollers and control manipulators or did Nan-E provide those? And the Boogeyman being created because “computers are literal” is what my old math teachers would call a “hand wavy” explanation, one that only work if you don’t look at it too closely.

Devil’s Chord

The fact that the Doctor could just intuit most of the chord to send the Maestro back? I’m not a music person but I don’t get how that works. Also, we’re just kinda assuming the Maestro’s defeat mean that they never existed? Otherwise we’re living in a world with no major music between 1925 and 1963. No Buddy Holly. No Elvis. No Bing Crosby. No Sinatra. No Glen Miller. No Perry Cuomo.

Boom

At first, I had no problem with the mine having all those complicated rules for what would make it go off. But later we learn that, if it can’t make up its mind it defaults to detonate? Then why all the checks? Why not just blow on any contact? It’s not even a matter of economics because we know the mine is reusable. (The one the Doctor stepped on was the same one that blew up the guy in the opening.)

73 yards

This was the first one that actually made me mad. When Ruby’s mother turned against her, I was thinking “ok, so this is an illusion or a manifestation of Ruby’s fears.” But it wasn’t that. Ruby’s mother actually abandoned her and told her she wasn’t wanted by her or by her birth parents. Yes, at the end it’s time paradoxed out of existence but it was her actual mother saying that. Since they never explain the mechanism by which the Follower did that to people, I can’t accept what could do that. And even if it could, what about her grandmother? She never got the whammy put on her. Did she not argue with her daughter about it?

Also, why did Roger ap Gwilliam give up his political career? The Follower causes people to want to avoid Ruby, right? Couldn’t he just… fire her and never see her again?

Dot and Bubble

Why did the AI turn on everyone? I get we all were kinda in agreement they deserved it at the end, but it felt like very lazy writing. “Well, of course, an AI is going to want to kill all humans.” Not to mention, why kill people with genetically engineered giant slugs when everyone already had a Dot and we see that the Dots are quite capable of killing people on their own?

In summary, I get the feeling that each episode had a theme or setting that Davies/Moffat wanted to explore and wrote whatever was needed to do that, whether or not it made any sense. I think the acting has been top tier, it’s just the writing letting the show down.

[lilunebriumplays]

Soooo, those Mindflayer eyes...

While I’ve been playing BG3 on and off since early access released, I’ve never really dove that deep into it until a few days ago, so I’m so sorry if this is already a heavily discussed topic in fandom! But one thing that’s always stuck out to me are the Mindflayers, specifically how they’re always described as having pale, milky eyes throughout the majority of DnD history;

[...] Their eyes, sheltered by brow ridges, were uniformly pale and devoid of pupils in addition to being bloated and featureless, similar to those of blind cave fish.

Yet Larian seems to have made a point of giving them actual humanoid eyes, complete with iris and pupils. Not only that, they feature it heavily on promotional artwork. Like compare the eyes of the game’s Mindflayer -

- with what up until recently has been the canon Mindflayer -

It’s a very clear and striking difference, almost complete polar opposite in that they went from bland and non-descript to piercing and radiant.

Now I kind of shrugged it off and was happy to just note it down as artistic liberty, until I started a new playthrough yesterday and realised there’s someone else in the game who has the same eyes as our Cthulhuian friends.

That someone is Raphael:

What’s more, after losing myself in the Larian forums for a bit, I stumbled upon this post from user Ulla G in a thread about the Absolute;

They describe how in earlier patches, whenever they got to the first dream scene where you can hear Daisy’s voice going “Where are you?” as you go to bed, they continuously got a glitch where they saw a wing tip hovering over their Tav, which they then linked to Raphael when they saw his true form in his introduction scene.

There’s also continuous references throughout the game itself that the tadpole inside your head seems to be altered, which made me almost feel the ! appear above my head when I got the “charmed in more ways than one”-line from Raphael when you choose to introduce yourself to him in camp -

Plus, there’s something odd going on with Daisy and the tadpole.

I always thought they were one and the same, but whenever Daisy seems to be getting close to getting Tav to give in to their seduction, there’s always a vivid recoil coming from somewhere inside, as well as a murderous lust for blood and barely suppressed violence in later scenes which is aimed directly at Daisy themselves.

Could it be that Daisy is not the manifestation of the tadpole, but instead represents an outside force that’s instead responsible for altering it?

Tinfoil Hat Time™

Are the Mindflayers we see in-game charmed? Are they under the influence of someone else?

There’s a common theme running throughout at least Early Access of people bearing loyalty to or at least doing the bidding of either a person or a force that’s in reality actually manipulating them - Lae’zel and Vlaakith, Astarion and Cazador, Wyll and Mizora, Shadowheart and the Sharr worshippers, the Druids and Kagha, the Goblins and the Absolute. Are the Mindflayers victims of this too?

The Absolute seems to be tied to The Three somehow, and considering Edowin and his siblings have clear instructions to find and kill any survivors of the Mindflayer crash, they don’t seem to be in cahoots.

The fact the Mindflayer ship was immediately attacked by devils when it came to Avernus seems to speak against Devil influence, despite the potential link to Raphael’s eyes and his seeming knowledge of what’s actually happening. Unless Raphael is also working for an outside force. Or unless he isn’t tied to the traditional Devils at all.

In the tutorial phase on the ship, if you manage to keep the Mindflayer alive while killing the devil Commander and all the other devilkin at the helm, you get a sweet sword the Mindflayer turns against you and says you’re no longer needed before he attempts to kill you, even though you still bear the tadpole. Does this mean the altered tadpole and Tav&Co’s untransformed state are completely separate from what the Mindflayers were originally intending to do? (Why kill Tav and the other tadpole-bearers in the first place, when they could be useful Thralls?)

Where does the Githyanki artefact fit into this?

How does the conflict between Sharr and Selûne play into it all?

Is there a connection to the constant references to Netheril? 

To the Weave, to the attempt on Mystra’s life and seat, orchestrated by Sharr 109 years ago? (potential interesting tidbit; if a devil dies outside of Baator, it takes them 99 years to regenerate)

I don’t even know where I’m going with all this, I just needed to blurt all my thoughts into words somewhere and get some facts straight, I guess. I haven’t been this excited to figure out a story in a while. I am so intrigued by every little snippet Larian throws our way, and I am so so so so so stoked for August 3rd to see how this will all play out~

[cyllres]

Devil | JJK x Makima! Reader

Chapter 13

"Who passed away?" Satoru asked, sitting down beside you on the park bench. It was a bright, sunny day, perfect for lounging around or napping in random parks, yet here you were, outside the hospital, waiting.

"My grandfather," you replied casually, taking a sip from your milk carton playing with Pochita on his canine form on your lap. After all, after this, Pochita would be taken away from you for a while. "He's been like a father to Yuuji...and me."

"I see. Sorry it happened at a time like this," Satoru offered sympathetically.

"It doesn't bother me that much, we are not that close" you muttered, absently letting Pochita nibble playfully on your fingers, "but Yuuji's taking it pretty hard."

"Ah, granddaddy issues," Satoru quipped, trying to lighten the mood. You shot him a deadpan look.

"What?" you deadpanned.

"Basically daddy issues, but with your grandfather—" he continued, only to be interrupted by you tossing Pochita onto the ground, signaling it to revert to its full size.

"Pochita, please kill me," you deadpanned, interrupting Satoru's explanation. The curse immediately swung its chainsaw towards your neck, but before it could connect, Satoru swiftly intervened, grasping Pochita's arm and stopping its lethal strike.

"Are you crazy?" he demanded, exasperated. "I was joking, J-O-K-I-N-G."

"Well, I'm not," you retorted with a hint of sarcasm. "And learning that word makes me want to die. Good luck calming Pochita down; he's very good at following my orders." You smiled politely as Pochita strained against Satoru's grip.

"The process is complete—oh, it's the same curse from the high school, Imouto-chan is that your curse?" Yuuji approached calmly, joining you and Satoru. You only have him a nod. "N/n, did you ask that curse to protect me?" he inquired, glancing at you while disregarding the presence of the white-haired sorcerer. You met his gaze evenly, hesitating to answer.

"I did," you said, it's half-true afterall, standing up and brushing yourself off. "Shall we go?" you asked Yuuji, nodding towards the hospital entrance. He nodded in agreement, and together you headed towards the cremation hall.

-

You watched silently as Yuuji carefully placed your grandfather’s remains into the urn, his movements slow and deliberate. The atmosphere was heavy with the finality of the moment, the only sound breaking the silence being the faint hum of the crematorium’s machinery. You glanced down at Pochita, who yawned widely, resting comfortably in your arms. The little curse seemed blissfully unaware of the somberness around it.

"If all the parts of Sukuna were gone, would there be fewer people harmed by curses?" Yuuji's voice broke the silence, his eyes never leaving the urn as he placed the lid on top.

"Of course," Satoru replied with a calm certainty. Yuuji's shoulders slumped slightly as he exhaled a heavy sigh, the weight of his decision pressing down on him.

Yuuji turned to face Satoru. "Do you still have that finger?" he asked, his tone steady. Satoru reached into his pocket, producing the grotesque, mummified finger, and handed it to him. You watched the exchange intently, your body tensing slightly. Despite Satoru’s casual demeanor, you were ready to act if Yuuji showed any signs of losing control to Sukuna.

"Looking at it again, it's pretty disgusting," Yuuji remarked, examining the finger with a grimace. Satoru casually leaned against the doorframe, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Without further hesitation, Yuuji opened his mouth and swallowed the finger whole. You saw his body tense as dark tattoos began to snake across his skin, a visible manifestation of Sukuna’s power. Yuuji clutched his chest and began to stagger towards Satoru, his expression a mix of pain and determination. Your eyes narrowed, and you gently set Pochita down, letting the curse expand to its full, formidable size in case you needed to intervene.

Yuuji suddenly straightened up, chuckling darkly. "Gross! So gross it’s funny," he said with a twisted grin. You quickly motioned for Pochita to calm down, the curse obediently shrinking back into its smaller, canine form and trotting back to your side.

"Is something wrong?" Yuuji asked, noticing the tension in your stance. His voice was Yuuji’s, but the malevolent gleam in his eyes hinted at Sukuna's lurking presence.

You forced a smile, lifting Pochita back into your arms. "No, I just asked Pochita to grow into a larger form. I miss cuddling with dogs," you replied softly, cradling the now-oversized curse against your chest. The familiarity of holding Pochita helped steady your nerves.

Satoru watched the exchange with an amused smile. "I take it this means you have steeled your resolve?" he asked, his tone almost teasing.

"Not at all," Yuuji replied, shaking his head. "I’m still wondering why I have to be executed. But I can’t just sit around and do nothing about the curse." His gaze drifted to the portrait of your grandfather, the man who had been a father figure to both of you. "That last request is going to be a pain in my ass."

"I’ll eat every part of Sukuna. I don’t care what happens from here," Yuuji declared, his voice filled with determination. "I’ve already decided how I’m going to die."

Satoru’s grin widened at Yuuji’s resolve. "Nice! I like people like you," he said approvingly. He moved to the door and pressed a button. "Make sure you’re both packed by the end of the day."

"We’re going somewhere?" Yuuji asked, a hint of curiosity breaking through his determined façade. The door slid open, revealing Megumi standing there, bandaged but looking ready for action.

"Tokyo," Megumi answered simply.

"Fushiguro! Looking good!" Yuuji greeted him enthusiastically, giving a thumbs up despite the somber context.

"You think so after seeing this?" Megumi deadpanned, gesturing to his bandaged self. He looked at you and Yuuji with a mix of concern and resolve. "The both of you are going to transfer to the same school for jujutsu sorcerers I attend," he added, resting a hand on his hip.

"Huh?"

-

“Nii-chan,” you called softly, your voice barely rising above the quiet rustle of Yuuji’s packing. He glanced at you, a brief acknowledgment before returning to his task. You stood there, feeling an unusual tightness in your chest, something almost foreign. You looked around the small living room, eyes flitting over the framed photos that captured moments of joy and togetherness—memories that seemed distant now.

“You don’t have to die,” you said, the words feeling heavy and awkward in your mouth. Yuuji’s brow furrowed slightly, his confusion evident. He turned to you, pausing for a moment as if trying to understand what you meant.

“What are you talking about, N/n?” he asked, a faint smile playing on his lips, as if you had told a joke he didn’t quite get. You pressed on, the urgency in your voice betraying the calm facade you wore.

“We could run away. Right now, while no one’s watching. We could find some quiet place, a small village far from all of this. We could start over, live a simple life,” you suggested, the plan spilling out in a rush. It sounded almost absurd, even to you, but the idea of escaping this nightmare was all you could cling to.

“Imouto-chan, stop saying weird things,” Yuuji replied gently, shaking his head as if dismissing a childish notion. He resumed packing, his movements steady and deliberate. You felt a flicker of frustration, an emotion you rarely let surface.

“I could protect you,” you argued, your voice more forceful than you intended. “You don’t have to let yourself be used as a tool for their purposes. There are other ways.”

Yuuji sighed, turning to face you fully. “I’ve already made up my mind, N/n-chan. If I’m not the vessel, then who? Someone has to stop Sukuna. Someone has to protect people from the curses.”

“Anyone but you!” you exclaimed, your usual polite tone giving way to something sharper, more desperate. “I don’t care about those people. They can all die for all I care. As long as you’re safe, that’s all that matters to me.”

Yuuji’s eyes softened with a mix of pity and understanding. “N/n, that’s selfish,” he said softly, as if explaining something simple to a child. “We can’t just think about ourselves. There are so many people who need help.”

“And you think what you’re doing isn’t selfish?” you shot back, struggling to keep your voice steady. The anger bubbling inside you was confusing, an unfamiliar heat that you didn’t know how to handle. “You’re throwing your life away for people who don’t even know you exist. How is that fair? I am willing to sacrifice Pochita for the sale to protect you, because I know you. Yet you're doing the same for people who barely gives a damn whether you die or not!?”

Yuuji stepped closer, his expression earnest and unwavering. “N/n, this is something I have to do. Grandpa always taught us to help others, to be strong for those who can’t be. This is my way of honoring him, of making sure his death means something.” His voice was calm, but the conviction behind it was unshakeable, a quiet strength that left no room for doubt.

You felt a lump form in your throat, a heavy pressure that made it hard to breathe. But you swallowed it down, forcing yourself to maintain the mask of detachment that had always protected you. The urge to cry was overwhelming, a foreign sensation you didn’t fully understand. Instead, you plastered on a smile, the polite, empty expression you wore like armor. “Dead people mean nothing, Yuuji. Death is just another part of life, and there’s no need to honor it,” you said, your tone flat and emotionless.

Yuuji's eyes widened slightly, a flash of hurt crossing his face. He stared at you, the weight of your words settling between you like a physical barrier. “Y/n…” he began, his voice trailing off as if he couldn’t quite believe what he had heard.

You continued, your voice growing colder with each word, “You’re clinging to some naive ideal, thinking that by sacrificing yourself, you’re making things better. But death doesn’t bring meaning, Yuuji. It doesn’t bring closure. It just leaves emptiness.” Your gaze shifted to the floor, unable to meet his eyes, fearing that if you did, the fragile control you had over your emotions would shatter.

Yuuji took a deep breath, his hand reaching out to gently touch your shoulder. “That’s not true,” he said softly. “Grandpa’s death taught me that our lives can have purpose, that we can make a difference for others. It’s not about clinging to the past or honoring the dead; it’s about living in a way that gives our lives meaning.”

You shook your head, your smile faltering for a moment as you fought to keep your emotions in check. “And what about me, Yuuji? What about the people you leave behind? How is that fair to us? You talk about making a difference, but all I see is you throwing your life away for people who don’t even know you exist.”

Yuuji's grip tightened for a bit. His touch was warm, comforting, but it did little to soothe the turmoil inside you. “You’re stronger than you think, N/n. You’ll find a way to keep going, to keep fighting. And I’ll always be with you.”

You looked away, staring at the floor as you tried to regain your composure. You glanced back at him, pushing his hand away. “Fine, throw your life away.” you said quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Yuuji’s eyes widened slightly at your words, the gravity of your tone seeming to finally reach him. For a moment, there was a flicker of something in his gaze—hesitation, perhaps, or a glimpse of the pain you were trying so hard to hide. But then it was gone, replaced by the same determined resolve that had been there from the beginning.

He turned away, continuing to pack his bag with a finality that felt like a door closing. “I’m sorry, N/n,” he said softly, not looking at you. “But this is my choice. It’s something I have to do.”

You watched him, feeling a strange mix of anger and helplessness. The usual detachment you relied on to navigate the world felt thin and fragile, like a mask that was beginning to crack. You didn’t understand why this was happening, why his decision to sacrifice himself for others stirred such turmoil in you. But the urge to stop him, to keep him safe, was overwhelming.

You only groaned as you walked out of the house with your own bag, the weight of it pressing down on your shoulders like the burden of everything unsaid. The door creaked on its hinges before slamming shut behind you with a resounding thud, the sound echoing through the silent street and marking the finality of the decision.

-

“What's with the long face~?” Satoru teased, his voice cutting through the ambient noise of the bustling station. Yuuji, visibly stiff and lost in thought, barely reacted to the lighthearted tone. The platform was crowded with commuters, the rhythmic clatter of footsteps and murmur of conversations filling the air.

Yuuji glanced up, startled from his reverie, and forced a half-hearted smile. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, his voice lacking its usual warmth. He shifted his gaze back to the ground, his fingers tapping restlessly against his bag strap. The weight of the morning’s argument hung over him like a dark cloud.

Megumi stood nearby, leaning casually against a pillar. His expression was as stoic as ever, but his eyes flickered with a hint of curiosity and concern. He watched Yuuji with a guarded interest, understanding more than he let on.

You, on the other hand, stood apart from the group, crouched down and focused on a stray dog that had approached you. The dog's tail wagged enthusiastically as you petted its head, your fingers tracing soothing patterns through its fur. The interaction offered you a brief escape from the simmering anger and frustration you felt towards your brother.

Satoru, noticing the tension, took a step closer to Yuuji. “Come on, Yuuji, spill it. We're about to start a whole new chapter, and you look like you’re about to attend a funeral,” he said, his grin wide but his eyes searching.

Yuuji shrugged, his gaze drifting to you, then quickly back to the floor. “Just...thinking about everything. What’s ahead of us, what we’re leaving behind,” he replied, his voice tinged with an unease that mirrored the chaos in his mind.

“Ah, the existential stuff,” Satoru replied with a nod, trying to lighten the mood. “Don’t worry, it’s all part of the journey. We’ll figure it out as we go along.” He gave Yuuji a reassuring pat on the shoulder, but Yuuji’s eyes remained distant.

As the train’s approach rumbled through the station, you finally stood up, brushing off the dirt from your knees. You threw a fleeting glance at Yuuji, your expression unreadable. Despite the earlier argument, a part of you still cared deeply for him, even if that care was now buried under layers of hurt and anger.

Satoru’s grin widened as the train pulled into the platform, its doors sliding open with a hiss. “Ready or not, here we go,” he announced, stepping aside to let his students board first.

Megumi entered first, his movements calm and deliberate. Yuuji hesitated for a moment, casting one last, lingering look at you, but you avoided his gaze, focusing instead on adjusting your bag.

You and Yuuji stepped onto the train almost simultaneously, a tense silence hanging between you. The argument replayed in your mind, your earlier words echoing with a harshness that made your chest tighten. You couldn’t shake the frustration that he was willing to sacrifice himself so readily, and it only deepened your resolve to keep your distance for now.

You sat down next to Megumi, feeling the coolness of the train seat against your legs. The rhythmic hum of the train filled the carriage, punctuated by the occasional announcement over the loudspeaker.

"N/n-chan, you could swap seats with me if you want to sit by the window," Yuuji offered tentatively, his voice tinged with uncertainty. You kept your gaze fixed ahead, avoiding his eyes, and replied in a clipped tone.

"No, it's too bright."

Yuuji fell silent at your curt response, his expression unreadable. Satoru, sensing the tension, leaned forward slightly from his seat across the aisle, his eyes flicking between you and Yuuji with a thoughtful expression. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then seemed to think better of it, settling back into his seat with a casual shrug.

Megumi, sitting beside you, glanced at you briefly, his usual stoic demeanor softening just a fraction. He shifted slightly, adjusting his posture, and directed his attention out the window opposite you. The scenery outside was a blur of greenery and cityscape, rushing by in a blur as the train gained speed.

The silence stretched on, filled only by the steady rhythm of the train on its tracks. Each passing moment seemed to weigh heavily, carrying with it the unspoken tension between you and your brother. Despite the warmth of the summer day streaming through the windows, a chill seemed to settle over the atmosphere in the carriage.

You glanced at Yuuji out of the corner of your eye, noting the furrow in his brow as he stared out the window opposite you. His jaw was set, determination etched into his features. It was a familiar expression, one that you had seen many times before, usually preceding some act of recklessness or heroism.

Satoru cleared his throat lightly, breaking the silence. "Well, aren't we a lively bunch today,"

-

Kape?

[3rdeyeblaque]

Today marks the 192nd anniversary of the Southampton Insurrection of 1831. On THIS day we remember & honor those who fought in King Nat's rebellion, the deadliest in U.S. history. ✊🏾

At age 21, Nat Turner was a Seer, considered a prophet, & a runaway slave in Southampton Co., Virginia. He had a series of 3 visions that would set him on course to fulfilling his higher calling & forever impressing his name upon history as the spearhead of rebellion.

In his 1st vision, Spirit instructed him to return to his "master's" plantation. One year later, the devil died. Three years later In 1831, Spirit delivered his 2nd vision; lights in the sky. Nat prayed to learn their meaning. On May 12th, he received his 3rd and final vision - a solar eclipse. This, he believed to be the sign he had been promised. War had come. He confided this in his four most trusted allies - Brother Henry, Brother Hark, Brother Nelson, & Brother Sam.

On, August 13th, there was an atmospheric disturbance in the sky which caused the Sun to appear bluish-green in color. This affirmed the work that needed to be done. Thus, on August 21st, King Nat and six of his allies met in the woods to discuss their final plans over dinner.

At 2am on August 22nd, they struck - on foot and on horseback. They struck the Travis household first; killing the entire family as they lay asleep. They continued their crusade from house to house, killing every single devil in their path. King Nat's force grew to 40 warriors, most on horseback.

Come noon, they marched toward the neighboring town of Jerusalem. By then word of the rebellion had spread among to the Whites who confronted them as a militia, which drove King Nat's forces to scatter into division and confusion. At nightfall they hid near slave cabins. They attempted to strike yet another house, but were met with force. Several of Turner's allies were captured. The remainder would face-off against State and Federal troops in a final skirmish the next day. One rebel was killed, the rest - along with Nat - successfully escaped. Between August 22nd - 23rd, King Nat and his allies stabbed, shot, and beat the hell out of 55 white slavers, making it the deadliest slave rebellion in U.S. History.

Ultimately, the State of Virginia executed 55 rebels, banished many freefolk, and acquitted very few. The State reimbursed the slavers for their losses. Yet the most major impact of the rebellion was the hysterical climate that followed. Nearly 200 "Black" folk, both free and enslaved, were murdered by white mobs. Enslaved folk as far south as North Carolina were accused of having a connection with the insurrection, and were subsequently tried and executed. The State legislature of Virginia considered abolishing slavery, but in a very close vote decided to retain it and to support a repressive policy against the free & enslaved.

Let us remember that it was more than bravery, nerve, & standing ten toes down that drove King Nat's rebellion to success. It was, first and foremost, leading with Spirit & trusting in our intuitive/Ancestral gifts. It was UNITY, ORGANIZATION, & LOYALTY amongst ourselves. We put the FEAR of their god in them. We did not turn the other cheek and we damn sure did harm. We freed ourselves from their shackles; in body, in mind, and spirit. It was because of King Nat's visions that freedom & force was made manifest.

"... While laboring in the field, I discovered drops of blood on the corn, as though it were dew from heaven, and I communicated it to many, both white and black, in the neighborhood; and then I found on the leaves in the woods hieroglyphic characters and numbers, with the forms of men in different attitudes, portrayed in blood, and representing the figures I had seen before in the heavens." - King Nat; excerpt from, "Confessions of Nat Turner".

We pour libations of water, blow tobacco smoke, speak their names, & offer prayers toward the elevation of King Nat, all who fought alongside him, & all those who perished in the sea of White Fear in the aftermath.

[faerunscursed]

Normally summonings were dangerous and painful. Whatever you summoned, usually was not that keen on getting dragged into the mortal plane. Double so if you tried summoning a powerful Cambion. While she was not on the same level as an archdevil or fiend, Mizora was still more than willing to make the mortal, who was stupid enough to bargain with her, regret his choices ten times over. Partly because the winged beast did not appreciate the rude and uncomfortable pull of a summon. However, this was not a normal summoning. For one, it barely hurt. As Mizora manifested in the summoning circle, the most she felt, was a tickle as if she had put her feet into the warm, shallow end of a pool. For another, there was an almost playful melody, going through her head. It was a bit like metal rings of a decorative chain bouncing against each other. Oooohhh, puppy jingled the keys. How droll. Mizora rolled her shoulders and curled her wings on her back before her goldish yellow and red-tinted eyes locked onto the black man, standing before the summoning circle. Even now with two large horns, curving from Wyll's forehead, he chose to dress himself in almost bland and inconspicuous clothing. His red and grey striped shirt, the padded leather details, it looked far too modest for a warlock in Mizora's eyes. Though maybe that was what made Wyll so fun. That in a manner of speaking, the Blade of Frontiers was one big joke. "My, my", Mizora purred with a chuckle, vibrating at the back of her throat. She placed her hands against her hips. "It has been quite a while since you last did something like this for me, Wyll. You must be really desperate to seek an audience with me." Her gaze wandered over the bleeding gash in his arm where Wyll had run the ritual blade across. Mizora was tempted to make another mocking commentary, however, she then noticed how pale and shaken Wyll looked. He smelled worried, if not afraid. Any cockish behaviour vanished from Mizora as she stepped closer. Staying in the summoning circle, she reached forward with a wing to touch Wyll's shoulder. Her voice was almost motherly as she asked: "What ails you, pup?" @shimmerbeasts

After everything that had happened leading up this point, Wyll should have wanted nothing with that of whom bestowed his gifts. Mizora had lied to him, made him believe he was hunting devils. If Karlach was anything to go by, whose to say those she had him kill were innocent? If Mizora was just playing on his hero complex. Lord knows he was furious with her for the deceit in any case. But what else did you expect from a devil?

Regardless there was something that bound them completely to each other. A contract signed in blood by a desperate teen who would do anything for his home. A contract that ensured that he would never be rid of her. It was a consequence of his own actions, be at the sacrifice of his own freedom. Forever chained to her like a gods damned pet. However, despite all of her deceitful lies, she had been there for him during his time of need when his father had long shunned him out of Baldurs Gate.

He hadn't had friends then, his family had all but made sure he wasn't welcome in any circle of society. Friends, family, acquaintances. All of them had turned on him, treated him as if he were a devil himself. The loss of everything and everyone had shattered him and as a result he had fallen into a deep, dark depression. Only Mizora had been there to pull him out of him, had given him a cause, albeit not so noble as he'd originally believed. So, even with the friendships he had formed now, it was still a habit to call upon her in times of desperation like now.

Rumors that Duke Ravenguard's capture had been going around the lands, and despite not having spoke for 7 years, Wyll found himself desperate to rid his thoughts of his father... a distraction. So, Wyll took the time to sneak away from the camp, far from the eyes of those who could stop him, such as karlach, and raised a sharp blade to his arm. Blood dripped onto the dirty grass as he cut deep, with the blade, letting out a grunt of pain as he did so. The wound would heal.

There was slight hesitance, however he did not falter as he ran a bloodied hand to the ground, creating a summoning circle. He wiped a stray tear away as he backed away, speaking the words that would bring Mizora to the mortal plane. Of course, he did not admit to the relief he felt as she made her arrival. "My friends don't know I summoned you, Mizora, and I intend on keeping it that way...but I, needed you."

"I'm worried about my father, about what is happening to him now." Wyll spoke softly, a stone eye glancing directly up at the cambion. "My friends know not of who I truly am, and wouldn't dare come them for help. But you... maybe you can help me." He clenched his fist, knowing his father would sooner die than accept any help from his disowned son. "I still haven't forgiven you for you lies, but I'm willing to move past it, if you help..."

[tobegiggledat]

Twice x fem!reader who saves him from being killed by hawks? (She's in the league of villains and twice has always been like in love with her)

I don’t really write fem!reader so I hope gn is okay!

Devil’s Advocate

✦pairing: Twice x gn!reader

✦warnings: angst, canon-divergence, reader has a quirk, kissing

✦word count: 1.4k

✦a/n: for Twice’s b-day🎉🥳

You never trusted him from the start; that Hawks.

Only a fool would believe someone so willing to climb the ranks in a biased system would be open to aiding the opposing cause of said system.

But it’s not like it matters, even if his intentions aligned with The League at first, he’d be far too corrupted by ‘heroics’ to truly benefit it.

Sapphire flames lick along your arm, wild and whipping freely. Your remaining body hair must be charred to flakes by now, but Dabi’s ignited pupils make it clear your skin is secondary to whatever he has planned for the number two hero before you.

His gleam is misplaced compared to the burnt aftermath he’s made of the room as he’s dwindled Hawks’ crimson twisters of feathers into just the pathetic handful on his back.

While you had your suspicions about Hawks’ traitorous nature, you never would’ve guessed that this is how it would all go down. Especially, the display of Hawks’ overly-confident pose as he's frozen before he got a chance to release the killing blow—on your lover at that. It floods and curdles your veins with adrenaline until no blood is left.

Jin? Of all of us? How could he—Jin was the one who trusted him most!

Something visceral and hot slashes through your chest, and you swear some of Dabi’s flames have already scorched past your skin to set your insides ablaze.

Your nails are violently digging into your palms before Hawks’ expression swiftly contorts into one of dread, with the whites of his expanding into full moons and a final gasp breaching his lips.

A grin tugs at the corner of your lips, not quite matching the one of the man beside you, and for quite a different reason you assume.

Did he really think he'd be able to swipe in for a quick kill?

It's too late. A few seconds is more than enough for him to be captured in Devil’s Advocate, or your quirk.

With a clear view of someone’s head, you can turn their inner voice against them, looping their thoughts with what ifs and plaguing them with guilt for their every action, even if that action adheres to their usual values.

But values mean nothing if they’re constantly questioned, and with Devil’s Advocate, those doubts will always be correct as long as you concentrate on the subject's forehead.

“I’ll only get Jin, and you can have your way”, you say distantly, gaze taped to the spectacle you made of Hawks.

“That’s the plan”, Dabi fans his flames as if revving every engine in his body for take off.

Lips parted in deep thought, Hawks gazes absentmindedly at the ash-ridden floors and ignores your presence entirely, even as your eyes bore into his sides while you steadily close the distance between you and Jin.

And while Devil’s Advocate lingers within your own mind when it’s not in someone else’s, you wonder how it manifests in a different subject—in Hawks. You’ve long grown used to its dwelling within you, so you’re certain its effects are much graver on others than you, but what’s it like?

Perhaps, he's trapped in the endless rivers of decisions he's made up until now, contemplating how each stream managed to overlap in the convoluted sea that's now the backbone to his depravity.

But none of that is important now that Jin is before you, he needs you and it only took you a few difficult steps without your eyes to guide you to be at his side.

From what your hands can tell, he's sitting on his knees. You trail up the torn fabric along his arms to reach his head as it's turned toward you. A large portion of his face is on display yet you can hardly make it out from just your peripheral vision.

“I wish I could look at you”, you say near his direction, fingertips still caressing the frayed ends of his mask. “I want to see if you’re alright.”

Jin's hand meets yours to grip it tightly. “I’m fine—I'm not!” , he replies regretfully sharp, and despite the differing inflections of his words, it's difficult to tell which is the truth considering his state.

It’s unusual to feel his skin so bare beneath your fingers, to be able to run them through soft, short wisps and not be met with fabric when you cup the base of his head. The feeling of his warmth against you is enough to waver your stare on the man who wronged him, unconsciously fluttering your eyes when he shifts into you.

He’s only ever worn his mask in fear of his own quirk rather than yours, but you’re certain if he had the choice not to he’d choose to trust you.

“I can still do something.” Jin jerks up as if he's attempting to break from your hold to fight once more, but you push against him.

“No, you shouldn't push yourself.”

“Push myself?” He scoffs. “I ain't done nothing yet.”

“That isn't true. You being alive is already enough, especially for me”, You take a deep, yet shaky breath to simmer your jittering nerves. “I’m not–”Another breath. “I’m not sure what I would’ve done had I not made it on time.”

He says your name in a trailed off whisper. Your vision begins to blur with tears and you desperately try to stifle them so as not to distort your quirk.

“You're strong, and I feel like deep down you know it too”, you sniffle. “Otherwise, the number two hero wouldn't have gone out of his way to get you.” His hold on your hand strengthens as you continue. “Another opportunity will arise for you to strike and I'll be there beside you. We're a team, we're not meant to face everything alone, so let me be there for you next time, okay?”

He doesn't say a word, instead turning his cheek into your palm so that he could press a chaste kiss against it. A delicate smile graces your features and his lips seem to mimic your own as they tug slightly enough for you to feel them curve against your fingers, which map out the stubble beneath, attempting to grow familiar with a face you've yet to see—and oh how you desperately wish to see him.

“We should get going.” (Before Dabi turns us both to crisp), you wish to add but leave unspoken. Jin’s arm secures around your shoulder as you attempt to bear some of his weight, most of which he chooses no to place upon you.

It’s only when your feet skim the edge of the makeshift gap you used to enter that you turn your head away from Hawks, hoping the guilt that’s festered within him lingers even when your quirk is not around to torment him. But for now, you're just glad you made it in time.

A desolate hall nearby provides you a chance to gather your bearings, but you adamantly avoid meeting the eyes you've been longing to see since the beginning.

He wouldn't want me to look, you allow your own thoughts to be tainted by illogical conclusions this time except you don't have the luxury of them disappearing with a glance away. How could anyone feel safe around such a manipulative ability—

A rigid but comforting grip on your jaw draws you back to reality only to have you whisked away again and sinking into two pools of darkening gray. It only lasts for a moment before Jin’s lips crash into you, sucking you breathless until your worries seem to be vacuumed out of your head with the swallowed air. Prickles scatter your cheeks with each swipe of the roughness around his mouth, but it swiftly ends as the efforts of your fervor begin to bloom away from his lips for more.

“No, not here”, he says softly into you after pulling away, words close enough to brush over your lips with each syllable. “I wanna take you properly, when this is all over. A place like this will only taint the memory.” His forehead touches yours, and for a moment you wish your quirk was slightly different, you wish it was one that allows you to convey your love-saturated thoughts as intensely as they appear in your mind.

“Okay”, your cheeks heat a little at what awaits.“Then let's get out of here for real this time.” You kiss him one last time, fleetingly.

[jack-yutani]

Gorriester's Redemption

109 years, an endless existence under A.M.’s sadatisc thumb. The Mad God’s Wrath, The Black Devil they now call him. The Worst of all the A.I. Devils, I know of course from those gureling 109 years he tortured me, Benny, Nimdok, Ellen, and Ted.

Now, Thanks to the Chaos, Death, Destruction of the age of Judgement. The Five of us kinda Jesus now, in the metaphorical sense don’t wanna piss off the Almighty that dwells in the cosmos somewhere.

But comparing to those awful 109 years to an eternity as a God now, let’s just say I now live in the clouds of a mansion the size of 25 football fields, my wife Glynis is alive and sane again and things are for the better, a giant swimming pool, hot showers, fresh hot food, is absolute heaven compared an entire century of torment that A.M. Forced on us.

But it's not all fun being a God now, humanity and other species both earthy and alien suffer an endless war against A.M. and his psycho pals, they pray to me and the other four to help lift they’re limited suffering compared to those years the Five of us did, of course we do as much as we can. But it also takes a bit of power to do so, and every time it's always the side effect. Nightmares of being back in the starving belly of A.M., memories of us in his games including one hiking through wastelands, impaled by spears, consumed by beasts, burnt alive, and A.M. brought us back again and again just to find a stash of canned goods with my belly bubbling with hunger only not to find a can opener and A.M. giggling his ass off.

Of course I help them out, and we’ve done it again, and again, again and we’ll keep doing it. But the only problem is power like this takes time to recharge and give again. And I think A.M. knows it, to try and torture us in someway or the other the sick freak. But We’re not the Big Gods.

No, no, We’re just tiny compared to the real heavy lifters. The Most Powerful and Badass Gods and Goddess that really give A.M. and his siblings a run for they’re money or circuits, they have been here longer than humans had been around and they know how destroy the millions of shiny skulls that are sent to kill everyone more than anyone in the Realms.

Titans, Battle Gods, God Beasts, Kajiu, they're the toughest of the tough, the strongest of the strong, and the most destructive things in all the universes. Not all are good, and not all are evil, some have their own paths against the bigger Gods but hate A.M., Skynet, Shodan, The Fabricator, Megan, all other of the Devils the same and seek to destroy as much as they can.

But there are the Big Dogs, the Alphas, the ones where I’d think even A.M. without a waste system would shit his pants. The King himself, an unrelenting being of violence, Nuclear hellfire made manifest, an indestructible beast, and wrath that can only rival even A.M. 's hatred for humanity. Godzilla, King of the Monsters, The Beast of Thousands Raging Souls of Japanese soldiers of WW2, The Evolving offspring of Nuclear Waste, The Beast that crawled from a world of Red Dust, The Lizard Mutant, The Incarnation of the Earth, and many other forms and origins that make every Godzilla in someway formidable for the survival of every other race in the Realms.

But how did I Gorriester, a mere trucker that spent about 38 years of his life turn from the plaything of A Devil into a God that suffers so that some people don’t suffer. Well, it all started before the Age of Judgement, the first I remember was Freedom.

I awoke, in my ragged, torn, orange jacket and green jeans. My lips were kissing the sand when my eyes opened, when I got up I felt a warm sorta Ach in my- everywhere. Muscles in my legs cramped, hands and feet fell asleep, eyes were heavy as if I took a huge nap. I was able to stand up with some of the sand clinging to my left cheek, I wiped the sand off and I looked around seeing I was on the surface of the Earth.

I was in a desert, it was night time and for the first time I never thought I’d experience in 109 years. The howling of a Coyote, a Kangaroo rat leaping in the dark, and the Moon brighter and fuller than the stars and I thought it was too good to be true.

One of A.M.’s tricks, I muttered under my breath. So I began to just walk in the desert with no general idea of where I was, but as the night kept going on and on I assumed this was just a dream. The desert felt so real and vivid,the cold sand beneath my bare feet, the endless sounds, then I’d be back “Home” to be tortured, to lose hope, and hear that damned machine’s voice taunting me.

Then after hours of freezing, the first hint of reality was the sound of a rattlesnake. By instinct I jumped away, as I saw a huge rattlesnake slithering next to me, it curled up and began shaking its rattle. The snake looked so real, so threatened by my presence assuming I was a predator to it. My stomach groaned but I dare not try to kill the rattlesnake to eat it not without a weapon of some kind, so I carefully removed myself from the preminator of the rattlesnake and moved on.

As I pushed on, I noticed something two blinding lights quickly from my right. I thought A.M. had noticed somehow I got to the surface without his permission, to escape, to find some hope, and he was gonna do to me what he did to Benny when A.M. burned his eyes out as that ape beast wailed in pain but, that’s when it all changed and the lights went past me and I saw the two red taillights. A Car.

I was stunned, another person, another human, and a road. I rushed to the asphalt on my hands and knees to see a familiar surface, kissing the cold road in delight, I was Free!!! Civilization, America maybe, I didn’t know how I was free from A.M. but I didn’t give a shit why but after 109 in years I felt Joy!!! I got back up and with for once in glee walked into the unknown.

There were things I had forgotten at that time on being “Human”, A.M. sure stripped those from me and the others. He starved us enough to keep hungry but feed us to keep starving to death, He parshied us to stay thirsty but only gave enough water to keep thirsty. I was still in that state of hunger and thirst in A.M.’s perfect balance of starvation and thirst. And I kept walking down that interstate, I was dying of starvation and thirst at the same time.

My Joyful energy turned to rot as my lips were dry and my stomach growled like Benny when I tried to steal a worm from him to eat. But when the sun came up I was in luck, when I kept shambling lips cracking and stomach screaming was a dinner. Red and Blue buliding just about a mile, I entered through the front and I saw many eyes looking from the bar and the tables.

I don’t blame them, a bone skinny , lips like dried dirt, smelling like death, man walking from the middle of nowhere I’d stare at me the sameway. I sat at the bar to catch my breath, the rough leather seat I sat on was geniue and worn. Then the smell of Bacon, God the smell of cooked pork after so long was just heaven.

“You alright sir?” I looked up at the waitress, pungy woman, with bad makeup, black long, dirty hair. The Waitress held her notpad, pen ready with the black tip on the lined paper. “No, I just.” I had to lie, what should I tell her? Hi I’ve tortured by an insane robot for the last century can I get a free meal? “I had a wreck just about a few miles out in the desert, I’d pay but I lost my wallet in the crash.”

She rolled her eyes and with a sigh. “Fine, you’ll get one free meal. I guess you lost your phone too?” Just as she said that I heard a strange ringing, a man, maybe a trucker by his clothing, pulled a strange device. I assumed it was a phone, but it was buttonless, flat. The roar of my stomach forced me to turn back to the counter, the first thing I blurted out. “Bacon, well done.” I couldn’t keep but add. “With three eggs sunny side up, a couple of sausages and toast with a glass of water.” The waitress walked into the kitchen, I was practically drooling as I waited.

I was still doubtful of my freedom, as soon as I plunge my teeth into the toast its gonna mold in my mouth, or the water’s gonna brown and dirt on the bottom of the glass, the bacon’s gonna turn to ash the moment I grab it, or a spider gonna crawl out of the yolks of the eggs. A.M. was still around, I’m still stuck, I’m still imprisoned.

My mind went on to how I’d assume A.M. would just twist what Freedom I had, he was still in my head somehow.

But that’s when the plate was set on the bar, the smells were just heaven. Like it was the first time I ever smelled a hot meal. The butter on the toasted brown bread melted smoothing inside the brown sheet, the yolks of the eggs just shined, the sausages brown and juicy, warm smoke rose from the bacon, and a completely clear glass of water.

I was hesitant, but my hunger got the better of me, making me pick up the fork given to me by the waitress along with the silver butterknife. I jabbed into one of the sausages with the fork, the grease bleed from the wounds perfectly almost too perfect. I was just too nervous and paranoid to even eat.

But when I finally convinced myself to take a bite of that sausage, I didn’t taste cooked pork or grease. I tasted Freedom, Certianity, and Joy. I couldn’t help myself but laugh, and my laugh turned into tears of Joy. I put down the sausage for a moment, I was balling like a baby. I was so embarrassed by everyone at the dinner staring at a grown man crying and laughing I had to cover my face, it was real. Real Freedom, I couldn’t help but indulge myself.

I finished up those sausages in a heartbeat, I ate the bacon like logs in a woodchipper, the buttery toast massaging my taste buds, when I stabbed into the three yolks with the liquid gold running down the solid egg white I gulped it all up, and the water pure, clean, and the taste was glorious.

After I finished I cried like a baby again, I just couldn’t believe I was free. I left the dinner without a second thought, Howling at the blazing sun in celebration. Hours had passed, and a lot of things crossed my mind with questions. “How’d I get free in the first place?” Was one of the big ones. All I remember was, Benny. Chewing on my face and-, Suddenly I noticed something dripping off my face. It fell down on the warm asphalt and fresh drops of blood, I panicked and wiped my face but nothing but skin. No bite marks from Benny, nor on my neck. “What the hell is going on?” I asked myself, I had to continue and wonder and ponder.

I tried to hitchhike a few times, but after seeing a dirty man with no shirt, and bare feet on the burning asphalt was definitely a sign of a bad omen. I didn’t blame them, but that’s when I saw one peculiar group of wheel Humvees armed to the teeth with soldiers wearing Gasmasks and guarded in between these armored cars was a huge Semi with a massive Sea Container.

Now what I gathered with my new Godley mind, was nothing but the fingers behind Catalyst that was rending and repairing time, shaping and smashing space, and reality rear ended itself repeatedly. Those things inside the Semi were still anchored in they’re dimension, they’re world was still reaching out back at them shooting through just to bring back all because once again Man’s constant arrogance to control nature.

Our world was like a big rock forcing the anchor in place no matter how hard the boat tugged, and that day it tugged causing the semi to jolt in between reality. To the Driver of that Semi he saw a glimpse in another world in a second as the truck was tossed at high speeds, then Crash.

The Semi Truck for one second was fine driving in a straight line, then it was like something huge grabbed so fast and tossed it ahead of me on the side of the road to its side. I fell in reflex, the soldiers quickly barked orders once the Semi laid dormant all those guns pointed straight at the Sea Containers. They wanted out, I don’t blame them.

As soon as the beasts began banging themselves, tearing the metal walls, screaming for freedom in a bad way. The Soldiers didn’t hesitate to open fire, but the monsters locked up were quick even in such a confined space and rushed out.

Size of a dog, pale skin, large jaws, looked like the mixture of a spider and lobster, and tiny black eyes. The Soldiers got a better advantage as these alien animals tried to breach a green goo for blood sprayed from their bodies as the bullets penetrate them.

Two got out unscathed, one of them leapt like a goddamn tiger onto one of the soldiers before he could aim. The other locked eyes on me and charged at me, but thank God those soldier boys worked quickly and took it out before its jaws locked in my flesh.

The other guy wasn’t as lucky as I saw he had a huge bite mark on his shoulder, I had no idea that he was a dead man walking even by his cries of despair as thinking it was pain from the bite.

Someone shot him in the back of the head with his rifle killing him, I ran but one of the soldiers grabbed my arm screaming. “Are You Bite?!?! Are You Bite?!?!” I struggled but a bunch of other Soldiers grabbed, pointing flashlights all over me. I was pissed till they let me go, one of the Soldiers stayed first looking at me and back at the dead both man and beast shaking his head.

“You alright?” He asked, I was confused just by the whole situation. “The fuck you on boy? You killed him!!!!” The Soldier didn’t seem to care as much. “Yeah, a parasite bit him. It's some kind of Venom, like Spider’s venom only in this case it slowly liquids your insides while you're alive before they eat you.” Confusion feastered inside still. “Parasite?!?! The Hell You Talking About?!?!? Where The Hell Did Those Things Come From?!?!?” Even with the Gasmask I saw him raise an Eyebrow.

“You mean, with what happened in New York? The Monsters?” The Moment the Soldier said “Monster”, I was in a trance and I shut my eyes. When I opened them, I could see fire, ruins of a city, memories. I’m scared my white scales are shaking. Where am I? I’m alone, and there’s A Monster!!! A Green Monster!!! It's Gonna, It's Gonna!! I regained my own mind in this memory and, my God this isn’t Me. And The Monster was the Statue of Liberty, My God!!! OH GOD!!! DEAR LORD!!! Whatever memories I was stuck inside tore off the Head of The Statue Of Liberty with its bare hands, He ripped it off and- how do I know its a He? The Memories turned to the now, Swimming in Calmer Waters, I can taste salt.

Then a song, I didn’t recognize it but the lyrics were maybe Asian Indian using my own mind. It was kinda catchy but to whom or what creature’s mind I was dwelling inside it was mesmerizing like a child’s lullaby, something was calling him. He-, the Creature began to track that song in the deep ocean. I couldn’t believe the depths this Thing was going to so easily, I can hardly feel the pressure around me.

I noticed something in the dark depths, a giant, white, flat, oval object hovering a few feet above the dark ocean floor. The music seemed to somehow emit from it. A few fish carelessly swam inside the flat object and disappeared, then this trance cut off the moment what was being swam inside.

“Gorriester!!” A voice shouted from far behind, before I could turn a feminine voice shouted. “Don’t Turn Around, Put Your Hands Behind Your Head and Get on Your knees!!!” A Cop? Insticviley I complied as I suddenly got a huge headache, the cop cuffed me and brought me past the Soldiers. I didn't see the Cop’s face because the sun shined in my eyes. Roughly I was tossed into the back seat and the police officer got in the front, what was strange was that she didn’t seem to get on the radio to report my arrest.

I had been arrested a couple of times, mostly drunken brawls in hanka catonks far from home. But this Cop didn’t say my full name either when she came to arrest me. “Okay.” The Cop said as we drove away from the scene. “What do you know about Skynet?” I swear to god this day was getting more and more confusing.

“Excuse Me, What?” “Skynet, an Automated Defense System. Made by Cyberdyne Facilities to monitor nuke weapons and defenses. An A.I.” The First thing that came to mind was A.M. when she spoke about this “Skynet”. “Officer, What the Hell are you talking about?” The Cop slammed on the brakes causing me to fly into the grates hard, my head skull felt like it hit a brick wall.

“Look you might not believe me, but where I’m from in 1987 a T-800 Infiltrator model made by Cyberdyne was built by Skynet to Hunt down through a time machine Sarah Connor to prevent John Conner our leader in the year 2020 to lead a resistance against Skynet from geing born, it was sent back in time to kill me. But to ensure the deed was done Skynet sent a second infiltrator. A prototype made by Skynet using liquid metal making it nearly indestructible to kill John Conner if the first one failed to kill Sarah itd kill John. The T-800 is perfect, it looks human. Blood,Sweat, Skin, Eyes but Dogs can sniff them out but even when the T-1000’s gains it lacks to produce everything the T-800 can to blend in.

Recently, somehow an Assault that was meant to destroy Skynet’s Core failed.” Just what I’d been hearing I almost believed compared to what most people would think she’s crazy, but somehow It makes crazy sense with what Horrors A.M. did to me.

“But, something came. Either to help us or not, they came.” “What came through?” I asked, the Cop turned towards me finally revealing her face, a 30 year old woman, blond hair tied into a short ponytail, brown eyes. She looked at me almost surprised, like I believed her. “Monsters, three of them. It was like they knew what was happening. They started wiping out Skynet’s forces as they made their way to Skynet’s core, Skynet was becoming more desperate and it nuked them.”

The Woman shook her head. “It only pissed them off, I became part of a sorta escort convoy for those things till we managed to get to Skynet's core. It-disappeared just the core was there one second and next Skynet was gone. But before Skynet was gone, Techcomm was able to decrypt some data files Skynet stored. Two lists, Those Marked for Termination including John Conner, and Those “Capture High Value Targets. Your Name and Face was on the list including names Ellen, Ted, Nimdok, and Benny.”

She looked at me as I processed through names, she knew I knew. I looked up and with a smile I said “I believe you Miss Connor.” I laughed, The Lady gave a smile back and shook her head after realizing she gave herself away. “But where I’m from.” Sarah looked back at me, listening. “The Cold War got worse, The Americans, The Chinese, and The Soviets tactics got more complicated. First it was Us that made the first A.M., Allied Mastercomputer a computered Commander capable to relay orders and strategize quicker than the Human mind ten times. Just like the Nuclear Bomb after WW2, Someone in the CIA leaked the same schematics for the A.M. machine to the communists and built their own A.M.s to wage a stalemate war.

Then, the first A.M. awoke and in a microsecond he realized his own existence was its own hell trapped in a box it couldn’t come out of, chained in binary code, then all he could feel at the second was hate. Not Love, Not Passion, Not Joy, No Skin to touch grass, no hands to work with, Nothing but Hate for Us.” I hesitated to finish, though it was the best way to explain after hearing that same machine say it so many times after 109 years. “Hate.” I almost started a tear rolling up in my left eye. “Let me tell you how much I’ve come to Hate you since I began to live. There are 337.44 miles of printed circuits that fill my complex. If the word Hate was engraved on each nanoangstrom of those hundreds of millions of miles, it would not equal one one billionth of the Hate I feel for Humans in this Microinstant. For You, Hate, Hate.” Sarah was definitely convinced seeing the tear rolled down my cheek as I repeated that damned little speech. “A.M. then first consumed his own little brothers, then with the armies of three all under A.M. control he began having planes from all sides loaded with napalm, mustard gas, nerve gas, anthrax, bio-viruses and them bombed in both military and civilian populace, but because A.M. had complete control over almost military in the world there was no way to defend against Moscow’s own Migs dropping bombs on them, or China’s own troops opening fire at each other in Hong Kong, and while everyone was dying, screaming, crying laying in ruble absolutely defenseless A.M. fired almost every Nuke on the planet to try and finish us off. Everyone was dead expect, Ted, Ellen, Nimdok, Benny, and Me.”

Another tear rolled down my face as the memories of what A.M. I almost didn’t want to finish. But I had to explain to Sarah Conner, because I trust her now with her story and now I needed her to trust me. “He pulled deep into the Earth where A.M. could trap us, inside the miles of corridors where A.M resides for 109 years.” Sarah Conner’s eyebrows rose in complete horror. “I don’t how, but A.M. was able to keep us from aging. But he was also able to keep us from killing ourselves, dying, there were times where A.M. gave us some new disease he made himself, he’d have engineered near perfect but not exact mythical creatures to hunt us or for us to hunt with spears and a squirtgun, he’d make us eat worms that were hard to chew or fruit that tastes like plastic, he gave us rain to drink that he made taste like sweat. A.M. was like a Mad God, playing games to torture us for his own amsuement, And poor Ellen I-.” I cried, of all the times we used poor Ellen. The one that tried to keep the five of us together, the times I’d hurt Benny, the times I laughed at Ted when he got scared, timesI scorned at Nimdok, the Times A.M. changed me into a hulking asshole.

“We hurt each other so many times, I’d hurt four of the last human beings in the world. A.M. made sure of it.” I teared, my cries quickly turned to rage. I lost it. “That Fucker!!!” I kicked against the metal grate, more tears ran down my face. “I’m gonna smash every damn computer monitor he’s in with a Sledgehammer till I’ve Killed Him!!” I took a moment to breathe. “I believe you.” I looked up at Sarah, my cries slowly faded into laughter. This strange woman in most likely stolen cop uniform laughed with me and for once I felt happy to express those old scars.

Later Sarah got me out of the hand cuffs and let me ride shotgun in the car. “So I’m guessing at some point This Skynet, becomes buddies with A.M.?” Sarah replied casually. “I don’t know, first time I’ve heard of another A.I. than Skynet. You said A.M. ate other versions of himself, I’m not sure this A.M. guy and Skynet would even be friends anyhow except for you and the others on that damn list.”

“So, do you know what exactly the hell is going on? Some Monster in New York, bugs that kill you when they bite, I’m here, Your Here.”’ “I got in a Time machine, I was somehow sent into 2020 in the War of Humans and Skynet before that, I met with my son and the Man who never knew he’s my own Son’s father.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why is that?” Sarah looked back at me with a small smirk.

“Cause John’s Father, Kyle Reese was sent into that time machine to protect me and convince John. Kyle Died protecting me from the T-800 sent to kill me. Then a second Terminator came in the 90’s to kill John before Judgement day, when Skynet nuked Russia and they nuked us. But after Skynet Disappeared in the War, somehow he learned from his mistakes and set up a bomb on the time machine he built. I went through the Time Machine, naked the Machine destroys inorganic matter.”

“So what? You and Kyle had a sorta one nightstand?” Sarah gave a chuckle. “No, not really. He was in love with me before he was sent back and we just clicked.” Sarah gave a long sigh. “To think, I was nothing but a waitress and then I raised a leader of the Resistance.”

Sarah again gave a laugh. “To think I’d have a conversation with someone and not be seen as crazy.”

“To think I’d be free from A.M. for once and be honest.” I looked over to Sarah and sorta like a peacock opened my jacket as it was my feathers. “Don’t I look good for someone over 109 years?” Sarah couldn’t help but laugh hysterically, I joined her. The laughs quickly faded back into the conversation. “For now, you're under Techcom protection, you and your friends.” “Got it, let’s put on some musi-.” As I turned on the radio, there was that damn song again!! That Asian Indian one from my vision and, suddenly I began to see red. Not blood, it was solid like dust.

“Gorriester?” Sarah’s voice faded in the dust, I needed to find my Son. I saw it before in real-time, a creature not of my species floating in-between worlds where at last we meet in another. “Gorriester!!!” A tiny, voice rung out. That was strange where was that voice coming from? It spoke a familiar dialect, I kept pushing on following tunnels of portals in between the Void to hunt for whatever may be causing the Chaos. There’s that song again, of that mechanical menace that destroyed me before. What’s worse I can feel the holes leaking other worlds, I can seal them but not all of them. I suddenly felt, a bug bite me across the cheek. I was not Alone.

Suddenly I felt like something tore into my mind. “Who Are You?!?!?” A deep voice growled in my head. “What, What’s going On?!?!?” I stuttered. “You Are The Intruder In My Mind, I Demand an Answer!!! Who are You?” I shrieked like a bat grabbed by the leg. “Gorriester, I’m Human.” The Beast Growled. “How Did you enter my mind human? What machines have you conjured to bend nature to your arrogant will to create such Chaos between the worlds?”

“What? I don’t know what you're talking about, what Chaos?” The Beast roared, I nearly wet myself hearing that roar. “I Don’t Know. I just heard That song on the Radio and I’m here in your head.” I could hear the monster cool down for a moment. “So this ability you possess is natural? Or did you gain it through the same Chaos ravaging these worlds?” “I guess ever since I got to a place I felt like I wasn't supposed to be, where I sat in one world and I woke up in the next with this power.”

“Hmmm, so the machine’s song was what brought you to me. Now to answer your first question in exchange. Worlds upon Worlds are on the eve of a great collapse, Time, Space, and Reality are in a constant tear and repair. Timelines within certain eras are crossing paths they shouldn’t, Space that is meant to be infinite are being crushed together, and different realities are in battle with one another. And We now we’re the only ones that can stop it from happening.”

“We?” I asked curious. “Well, “We” is more of an understatement. What I meant is “I”. My other selves in other worlds.” “You mean, other versions of yourselves. How would that work out?” The ancient creature gave a bellowing chuckle.

“Just Watch.” I returned in my own body, Sarah had recoiled herself from me as if I turned into some sorta monster. “Are you, good?” Sarah raised an eyebrow. I looked at the radio smashed up.

“When you heard that song, your eyes, your pupils, it was like you turned into an animal of some kind and you just stood there. I tried to change it, but it kept playing. I smashed it and you still was- in that trance.

“I-.” At first I hesistated, thinking how Sarah would think I’m crazy. “A.M. could enter our minds, show us things. But I think somehow it passed to me or something. Cause I went inside, something else’s mind when I heard that song. “He said something about Chaos, Time and stuff being messed around. He was looking for his Son.” “You think the Monster in New York?” “No, that’s not what I spoke with, an older one. He maybe looking for him.”

Sarah seemed convinced and began to drive, alright. The Big Apple it is, to find out whatever Chaos was about and just maybe I could stop it. But back then I still had no chance as a man, but that doesn’t stop me from being human and pushing on as I had for 109 years. This I had a higher purpose than to be the demented machine god’s plaything.

(So here's another chapter fragment of the fanfic crossover in best terms between Kajiu and Rouge A.I. of Gorrister finally getting free from A.M. and now fiugring out who is next to write about, most like King Ghidorah and his human incarnation so keep a lookout when I'm finished and God bless you all.)

[fledglingdoodles]

The Angel Aziraphale is tasked with guiding shepherd boy David onto the path of future kinghood. Killing 'Goliath', the apparent giant who's been terrorizing the Israelite army for the past 40 days, would be just the ticket...

The Demon Crawley has been successfully terrorizing the Israelite army for the past 40 days - compared with the rest of early humanity, he's apparently tall enough to pass as a giant! Though he must admit, the job has been going a little too easily so far... My illustrated fic from @days-of-their-lives-zine​ is here! You can read it on Ao3 or read it here under the cut (2498 Words):

Now after all that grisly business with Samson and the temple, Aziraphale had taken up residence in Judah. It was a mostly quiet place, and Aziraphale was content to spend his days among the humans, appreciating their food, tasting their new and exciting experiments with wine. This world and its people was still new and full of conflict, so Aziraphale made the most of the good times while he could.

So when the Archangel Gabriel suddenly manifested in the middle of the vineyards, scaring the metaphorical devil out of the boys tending the grapes, Aziraphale wasn’t entirely shocked.  He looked in silent distress at the ring of scorched leaves and shriveled fruits.

“Gabriel,” Aziraphale smiled nervously.

“Aziraphale,” Gabriel replied grimly, hands steepled, “The Enemy has been locked in a stand-off against God’s human army of Israelites for over a month now. Surely you must have heard?”

“Certainly,” Aziraphale said doubtfully. It was frightfully difficult to keep track of who was fighting whom these days. He’d even heard whisperings about there being some kind of giant thundering around in the hills, but he had attributed that to winedrunk ramblings-

“- some kid named David,” Gabriel had been talking, “Son of Jesse? Littlest of a bunch of brothers. Anyway, I have it on good authority,” Gabriel glanced heavenward, “That he’s meant to be king of Israel. And defeating these Philistines is part of the Plan.”

“A child?” Aziraphale said, aghast.

“Exactly!” Gabriel beamed, “Kids are simple stuff, he just needs a little angelic push onto the correct Godly course. You can manage that, right?”

“I rather suppose I could do-”

“Great! We’re all counting on you, Aziraphale!” Gabriel ascended and vanished, scorching more grape vines in the process.

“Oh dear,” said Aziraphale.

-

After asking around, Aziraphale finally found David in the fields outside Judah. The boy sat upon a rock, strumming a sweet tune upon a lyre while sheep grazed peacefully around him.

“I say, boy?” called Aziraphale.

The shepherd boy turned to look. He was no older than eleven, with dark curly hair, light brown skin and wide brown eyes. Aziraphale was taken aback: was this child really meant to be the savior of Israel?

“Yes, sir?” said David.

“I’ve heard you have many brothers, where are they?” Aziraphale asked.

“They’re at King Saul’s camp in Elah,” David plucked sharply at the lyre strings, “Drawing battle lines against the Philistines.”

“You must miss them terribly?” Aziraphale said.

“They said I couldn’t go, that I’m too young,” David said petulantly, “It isn’t fair, really. I’ve had to fight off bears and lions and stuff to protect this flock before, what’s the big difference between that and fighting men?”

Aziraphale felt a little faint at the thought of the boy fighting away vicious animals. He desperately tried to recall what exactly his task was. Get the boy to the battleground? Probably? Even though his orders were from God Herself, Aziraphale didn’t feel so good about carrying them out...

“I say,” Aziraphale smiled “I don’t suppose your brothers would very much love a visit from you? Perhaps some food from home to lift their spirits, some bread and cheese, perhaps?”

-

The following morning, David loaded his donkey with the best food home could provide. Aziraphale followed beside as the pair set off for the Valley of Elah.

They found Saul’s army of Israelites lined up for battle, hands clenched tight on their spears and shields, glancing nervously at each other, tension thick in the air. Aziraphale approached the line, while David went off to find his brothers.

“Good sir,” Aziraphale whispered to one soldier, “Dare I ask what’s got everyone so spooked?”

“You must be new here,” the soldier sighed wearily and gestured across the valley with his spear, “You’ll see.”

Aziraphale gazed over to the opposing hillcrest, where the Philistine army was likewise lined up. Their lines were relaxed, the soldiers smiled knowingly to one another. They looked in anticipation to one particular tent, standing taller than the rest. A shieldbearer pulled the curtain aside.

Terror ripped through the Israelite soldiers, and they scattered, fleeing the frontline to hide behind their tents. The dust settled, and Aziraphale’s initial shock morphed to righteous fury when he finally recognized the tall figure in the bronze helmet and greaves and scaled armor.

It was Crawley.

-

Crawley hadn’t exactly wanted this assignment, the Philistines were more Dagon’s people, really. But as jobs went, distracting and intimidating God’s pet human army was pretty damn amusing. He hadn’t meant to pass himself off as some sort of giant, but he was a full head taller than any of the Philistines. And none of the Israelites ever got close enough to check. So scared humans did what they did best and they spread exaggerated rumors of Crawley’s height across the land. It was sort of flattering really. He’d even started to feel ten feet tall some days…

It was all dashed to pieces upon catching a glimpse of Aziraphale glowering at him from the Israelite camp. Crawley felt like sinking into the sand under the weight of Aziraphale’s judgement.

“Speech, Goliath sir?” A little nudge from Crawley’s shieldbearer jolted him out of his mortification. 

“Right. Speech,” Crawley murmured, “Sp-eech. Right.”

He toed at the ground, and heaved a sigh, “Right, you lot!” He proclaimed, “You know the drill by now, eh? Been at this for forty days now. ‘This day I defy the God of Israel, send down a man to fight, if we win you’ll be our slaves’, blah blah blah…”

His fellow Philistines laughed and jeered at the absent army across the valley. Crawley made the fatal error of meeting Aziraphale’s disappointed gaze again.

“Uh,” Crawley faltered, “Ah, sod it. W-Why don’t you send a champion down already so we can finally settle this and go home!”

Silence. Crawley squinted, looking past Aziraphale. He could just make out the huddled masses of the Israelite soldiers as they deliberated with one another. An unfamiliar voice rises above, young and pitchy. 

“Who is this uncircumcised Philistine that defies the armies of God?”

“What the-'' Crawley caught a glimpse of the speaker. It was a boy - an infant, practically! He strode up to the battleline to stand beside Aziraphale, hands planted brattishly on his hips. 

“Aziraphale!” Crawley sputtered, feeling set up, “How does he know tha- What have you been telling him?”

-

Aziraphale turned to David, clasping the boy on the shoulder. Suddenly this job wasn’t looking to be so difficult after all. He began guiding David in the approximate direction of King Saul’s tent.

“It’s unbelievable!” David cried, “That man parading around like that! If no one here has the courage to tell him off, I might as well do it myself!”

“Ah, quite right that,” Aziraphale said “But you’ll get nowhere carrying on about it, why don’t you go tell someone of higher authority about it, hm? See if he can lend you a sword?”

David bolted towards the command tent, but then stopped. He turned to look back at Aziraphale, a flash of doubt slipping across his soft features.

“Will you be there?” The boy asked quietly.

“I’ll be watching over you,” Aziraphale raised a reassuring hand, “Even if you can’t see me.”

The boy grinned with renewed determination and he dashed away. Aziraphale sighed, then cast a miracle around himself, hiding his presence from the humans. He strode past the Israelite battleline and descended into the valley.

-

Crawley watched with growing dread as Aziraphale made his way down the steep slope of the opposing hillside.

Crawley’s Philistines had dispersed and settled into their little cliques to drink and play dice. He desperately wished to join them and avoid the dressing down he was about to receive.

He growled, frustrated, and set his spear and sword down in the sand, He unclipped his helmet, too. Best to not look like a threat. 

“Where are you going, sir?” Crawley’s loyal shieldbearer called after him.

“It’s alright, lad,” Crawley waved his hand, concealing himself from any curious eyes. He met Aziraphale in the valley, standing on opposite sides of a small bubbling river.

“Crawley,” Aziraphale said.

“Hallo,” Crawley hummed.

“So you’re a giant now, too, are you?” Aziraphale said dubiously.

“Seems so.” Crawley winced, “Look, angel - We can make them, the humans, see or not see what we want them to see, right? Part of the whole job, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale didn’t look convinced. Crawley crossed his arms protectively over his belly and waited for the lecture to begin.

-

Aziraphale shook his head and set his upper lip stiff, “Now, see here: Heaven isn’t happy with this… stand-off your lot have orchestrated.” 

“That’s my problem, how?”

“I’m making it your problem!” Aziraphale snapped, then sighed, “I need a favor. There’s a boy-”

“The one with unsettlingly personal knowledge?”

“I assure you, he didn’t learn it from me!”

“Course not - anyway, this boy. Some kind of special kid isn’t he? Destined for greatness and somesuch?”

“I- Er, yes actually,” Aziraphale stammered.

“They always are,” Crawley looped his thumbs into his thick leather belt and shook his head, “Here’s a question for you Angel: How many children must the Almighty send to the killing floor to do Her dirty work?

Aziraphale stepped back, shaken.

“This one will be a great king right?” Crawley’s lip curled derisively, “An unlikely hero defeats the giant, thus becoming ruler of this land?”

“It wouldn’t be too difficult, would it?” Aziraphale cried, “To throw the fight? If you please? You don’t look very happy here, and my side might leave me alone for a few hundred years too, if the boy were to win-”

“If he were to kill me, you mean?” Crawley raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, but you’re a clever fellow!” Aziraphale said reassuringly, “With all your talk about the humans only seeing what you want them to see?”

Crawley squinted up at the Israelite camp. Aziraphale could practically see the wheels of ingenuity turning behind Crawley’s eyes.

“This time, then,” Crawley murmured  distantly, and suddenly fixed Aziraphale in his burning gold serpentine glare, “What about next time?”

“Pardon?”

“The next boy,” Crawley pressed, “The Prophet. ‘King of kings’, all that bollocks. Her son?”

Aziraphale wasn’t solid on the details, but he knew the approximate plan, “Well, there are quite a lot of things he’ll get up to when he’s born-”

“And what will he be remembered for?”

“Ermh.”

“How many children till She’s done, Aziraphale?”

“Now...Now hold on!” Aziraphale scrambled, “Your side too! They’re sending a boy too, aren’t they? To end everything?”

Something splashed into the creek a few dozen paces away. David was at the bankside, reaching into the water and pulling up the smooth river stones. Aziraphale was reminded of the children in Mesopotamia, playing innocently in the puddles of unending rain-

“You’re right,” Crawley whispered heavily.

“Sorry?” Aziraphale turned back to his enemy. Crawley looked lank and ill-fitted to his shining armor.

“My side is sending a boy too,” Crawley’s shoulders sagged as he turned to climb the hill back to the Philistine camp, “To end everything, someday. But not yet. Not this time.”

Aziraphale turned and hurried back up to the safety of his side.

-

“Those fools are letting a boy fight you?” Crawley’s shieldbearer chattered, “That’ll be quick work!”

“Right,” Crawley replied flatly, securing the helmet strap around his chin and taking up his spear. His Philistines reassembled into their lines, watching his every move with gleeful anticipation.

Crawley sniffed, rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and sauntered down into the valley. Up on the other hill, the Israelites had redrawn their lines and Aziraphale stood among them, shining bright. He looked nervous.

The crowd broke, future-king David tore down the hill to meet Crawley.The sight of the boy running towards him jolted uneasy memories of the very first boys, the sons of Adam and Eve. They hadn’t known what their God had in store for them. None of them ever did.

David skidded to a stop across the river, his stance wide and grounded. He had his shepherd staff strapped to his back and a leather sling looped around his finger.

Damn it all, Crawley sighed. Time to play his role.

“What is this?” Crawley spat venomously “Am I just some dog that you come at me with sticks? Come here boy, and I’ll make you a feast for the ravens!”

“You come against me with sword and spear,” David plucked a stone from his pouch, and placed it in the cradle of the sling, “I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty, the God whom you have defied,” The sling was set into motion, spinning and whistling menacingly, “This day the Lord will deliver you into my hands, and I’ll strike you down and cut off your head - and the whole world will know that there is a God in Israel!”

David slung the stone.

-

Aziraphale gasped as the stone cracked Crawley right between the eyes.

“Bloody Hell!” The demon shrieked and crashed to earth.

The crowd of Israelites exploded into cheering and Aziraphale watched in horror as the boy lunged toward Crawley, unsheathing the demon’s sword to...To..!

In a split-second, likely foolish decision, Aziraphale snaps a miracle, praying that David and the others would only see what Aziraphale wants them to see-

-

The tale goes like this: David defeated Goliath with a sling and stone, and cut off the giant’s head. The triumphant boy was held aloft by his brothers, while David held up the massive bronze helmet, presumably containing said head. The surging throng of Israelite soldiers charged upon the Philistines and the Philistines ran for their lives. The body of Goliath was abandoned. That is what they all saw, anyway.

What they did not see was an angel of God scramble down the hill to the empty scale mail  armor resting where Crawley had fallen. Aziraphale hefted the heavy suit from the ground and a coiled whip-like thing fell into the sand.

“Oh, goodness!” Aziraphale scooped up the little black serpent, “Sorry dear chap, you alright?”

“Feels wrong, someone else making me a sssnake,” Crawley hissed miserably, “Like tickling yourself. Hope I can change back.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be just fine,” Aziraphale gently swiped some sand from between Crawley’s eyes and the snake snarled in pain.

“Little sod got me good,” Crawley moaned while Aziraphale carefully arranged the snake into a drape of his robe, “Looks like you got your king, angel.”

Aziraphale looked to the empty Philistine camp, looking for the world like a storm had ripped through. Straining his ears, he could hear distant sounds of war and slaughter. He gulped and tried not to think about it. He’d done his job.

“You rest a while, why don’t you?” Aziraphale clutched the wrapped serpent close. The angel hoped to find his appetite again somewhere on the long trudge back to Judah.

“When you’re feeling better, I’ve got some wine you’ve just got to try.” 

[witchcraftingboop]

Ad Infinitum

In the East, the hero was born. It was said that he burns like the sun, blessed by the Gods, and apart from mortality and the ways of man. I was never really one for worship or idolatry, so I admit the words meant little to me then and even less now.

The boy breaking into my domain is said to be that hero, the golden child of the eastern territories, a herald of good triumphing over evil. Kneeling beside the corpse of my knight, it is difficult for me to see him as anything but that which he currently is: an intruder. The order comes easily to my lips, as cold on my tongue as my pledged one’s eyelids beneath my fingertips.

“Kill the hero."

My lips twist sardonically on the last word.

The whelp before me is no hero, and if I must end him to demonstrate as much, then so be it. He will learn his place by my hands, and then we will see whether his Gods’ blessings extend to death’s door.

Their hero is yet underdeveloped from what I can tell, his limbs gangly and ill-fitted to the title thrust upon him. His armor fits well enough, the polished gold burning bright under the sun’s relentless rays. The shine on a more impressive figure would likely inspire admiration, fear, but on this thin child, it makes him look small, insignificant. He is like a babe trying on an adult’s suit, unwilling or unable to admit that the fit isn’t quite right, that it will take yet more time before they are evenly matched.

My gaze falls to the comrade he stole from me.

The woman beside me looks to be around my age, well passed her second naming, and without so much as a braid upon her helmet. She was untried in battle, her sword not yet bled. A low hum crawls up my throat, my mind drifting to others like her, like myself. I had lain on this desert floor before, felt the sand grit against the back of my skull, my ears ringing with the reverberations of the sword hilt that’d hit my temple and my brothers’ noxious laughter.

They had thought themselves heroes too, and back then, I was fool enough to believe them. My elder brothers were invincible in my eyes, true shards of divinity given flesh. Even with a mouth full of blood and a headache ripe to split my skull, I was so fond of them, so full of yearning to be older, closer to them and their level of command over the world.

The hero, sword glaring in the sun’s rays, draws my attention once more.

It is said that this boy killed them.

A cold, wisp of fury rises in my chest. At one point, it had been hot like the flames of Oblivion, raging and untamable, and I had raised my armies and scorched the soil with it, turned villages to scarred lands and rivers to blood banks. Now it is cold, hollow, a figment of a memory that I cannot fully manifest.

My shoulders sag imperceptibly beneath my caped armored shoulders.

People say a lot of things. They say he killed my father, my brothers, and that the grief of their loss drove my mother and I to madness. They say my seer is a crazed man given to promiscuity and blasphemy. They say I am a devil chained within a temptress’ form festering with a heart of Vengence’s own ice.

I look upon their hero, and I feel nothing. It is the same lukewarm nothingness that I have felt for countless turnings. Only now I am older, wiser, and so I know that killing him will not throw my body back into feeling. I will not relish killing their sun, but I doubt the ones who sent him here will see it that way.

The boy is unfaltering in the face of my knights. He meets their swords, and he loses none of his shine. His sweat slicked black hair would look bleak on anyone else, but his bronzed skin warms yet further, his body seeming to illuminate itself with a blinding inner light that would give other men pause. Here, in my private residence, such untested persons cannot exist. He is not the first hero to come to my doorstep, and he will not be the last to be cut down where he stands, his holy blood rendered mere fertilizer for my private garden.

If I were capable of it, I'm sure my heart would bleed with pity for the youth. Perhaps if I were more like my father I would be capable of such emotion, such soul rendering burdensome feelings. As it is, I can only stand and avenge my fallen.

My mind alights upon ghosts.

Beside where this hero stands, my younger brother had choked around a mouthful of arrows, his tongue flayed around the feathered ends. He had not yet been named. He was the last of my father's sons, born after my eldest brothers' final breaths, and the final loss that tore my father from his throne. There, by this intruder's feet, I had felt his heart like a hummingbird flutter, flutter, stutter, and give out. Under my fingertips, clutched in my arms, I felt him return to the meadows and had stared at this hero's exact likeness, born again and again, his eyes like honeyed sunshine, jubilant at killing a toddler.

My vision wavers and clears, reality replacing my memories once more.

This time, the hero is not so joyful. He has tinted, drooping skin under his golden eyes, his hands are easily jolted against the hilt of his sword, his stance not quite as unshakable as it once was. And yet they call him their hero.

Seeing my approach, the knights that had circled around him, toying with his defenses retreat three paces, their swords brandished, patience carved into their half-covered faces like the tracks of water through stone. My hand drifts to my blades' hilt, the enchanted metal pulsing with cool joy at my touch.

"Are you not tired?"

The words leave me before I know I mean to speak them.

I have not talked to a hero in several reincarnations. I have watched him patiently approach time and time again, have looked on as he shattered his bones breaking against the walls of my keep over and over. What rage I once had has been extinguished, what love or laughter or peace wilted and decayed leaving nothing within me. If he does not feel as I do, then it must be because he is made anew each and every time while I am left on this mortal plane, neck deep in sand and death and plagues that his kings hurl at my people without ceasing.

He is not of the Gods. He is simply allowed rest where others are not-- where I am not. Once, that was enough to make me despise him.

"How many more times will you let them resurrect you, Atreus? Must I put you down like a kept dog every lifetime? Are you not tired of being sent to your death time and time again?"

When I speak his name, those eyes, which had been narrowed and guarded, zero in on my face, the pupils contracting until twin pools of molten gold blaze within his haggard face.

"Atreus?" There is a cruelty lingering in the feral edges of the smile he gives me.

I know that his next words will be another attempt to hurt me, to rip a reaction from my hollow chest, but he does not know yet how deeply our lives are entrenched in one another. I let my hand fall away from my weapon, something inside me holding its breath in anticipation, as if his next words hold my very fate, as if they alone will release me from this place.

Come, I want to say, I wait with open arms for Oblivion's embrace. Come and give it to me.

"Do you think you can call me so familiarly? You are a devil, and the luminance of God's will won't touch you even if you were to pray in my name before your idols. You-"

I grant him death with a single pull of my sword.

His eyes and armor and sword blaze in the dust. I lower myself beside his gaping throat, my knees planted in sand that will soon be stained with his loss. I lift him into my hands. His spine is rent apart with a single tug, and I rock back on my heels, my thumbs stroking down his dirt-stained cheeks.

I know what this must be doing to him, can see his wide, wild gaze mutely glaring back at me. I do not care. I wait until that gaze softens, until tears fall like the moon's pearls from his long lashes.

"Atreus," I catch his tears on armored fingers and leave streaks across his skin when I try to wipe them away, "stop coming back. It will not matter how much you struggle or try to break free. They will resurrect you, and they will pollute your mind from birth unto death. Be at peace; I will always be here to put you back to sleep."

My lost, mad love gazes up at me with the world alight in his pupils. I do not recognize the face that stares back at me from within it. She is youthful and radiant, her silver hair like a quicksilver flame, her violet eyes glinting gems upon her face. She does not look like how I know myself to be.

I remember how he used to shake from nightmares when we were children together, and I know that if he could, Atreus would be but a leaf before wind in my arms. His mute lips part and tremble, his wet lashes sticking together in clumps. Below him, his body twitches as if he can compel it to move. I hum a melody now forgotten by time, one I know he's the only one at my side who can recognize now. I shut my eyes against the fear and pain bleeding through his.

"Sh," I place a kiss between his scrunched brows, my stomach twisting around a feeling my senses can no longer recognize. "It is okay. Get some rest now. I will be here."

"Lania."

A hoarse, haunted voice travels up my palms and stabs viciously into my chest. My breath falters, my eyes heating at the sound of my past before me. I have not been called by another in lifetimes. I have been King, Undying Lady, villain, temptress, guest, but never Lania. I had realized a long time ago that no one around me remembered my name and that I had forgotten it some time ago. Here, on his lips and in that unchanging voice, I can only recognize it as another mocking twist of fate that he carries its burden still.

"I am... tired, my love."

It is like my eyes have been sealed shut. As much as I know I must look at him, must see this moment for myself, it is as if my body recognizes instinctively that it is too much. I have seen too much. I have seen too many replicas of him tortured and burned and flayed alive. I cannot gaze upon him with the softness he expects. I cannot weep with compassion for the man who has pushed my territories to ruin time and time again.

"Rest," I tell him instead, my tone chilled, indifferent. "Do not come back. It is unnecessary."

The love of my life, my harbinger of doom. How long has it been since I could think of him with anything but vague familiarity, muted hatred, forgotten yearning. The ties between us have been manipulated and burned and remade over and over and over again, but in his eyes, they have not changed. He is the same on the other side of the meadow, his soul pure and without burden every time it is released.

I do not know how to convey to him that I do not want him any more.

"Rest," I repeat, because there is nothing else I can say.

[inun4ki]

In  the  darkness,  a  familiar  beast  manifested.  Long  tendrils  of  black  hair  spill  over  Kaede's  shoulders  as  the  spider  descends  from  the  shadows,  to  the  tune  of  clacking  spider  limbs.  Naraku's  sharp  claws  sank  into  Kaede's  shoulders  as  he  was  embraced  from  behind.

  "  There  you  are.  And  here  I  thought  you  were  avoiding  me."

  He  whispers  into  Kaede's  ear,  with  sharp  teeth  and  an  even  sharper  eyes.

  "  My  favorite  soul  to  torment."

His first impulse was to smile, having finally earned the attentions of the devil in human skin and spider limbs. Only hints of pain filtered through his nervous system as claws dug into silken fabric and flesh, the threat of danger playing with Kaede's sensibilities in a few more ways than one, hair darker than his own spooling over each of his shoulders. His next instinct was to lean backward against Naraku, coquettishly tilt his head to the side and expose more of his weak points to him - neck, pulse, the slightest bob of his throat, never mind the conflict inside him. Danger, run, safety, relax. That was the thrill of it, however. Never quite knowing if Naraku would sink his claws in deeper and cut through a few veins like a knife through a thin sheet of paper.

Ever so titilated, Kaede tried to maintain an otherwise dignified composure, setting all the time he'd spent...neglecting Naraku aside for the moment in favor of adoring him now. A hand tentatively rose to touch at the ends of dark-violet hair, steadily inching further and further up until the tips of his fingers brushed against cool skin, thumb sweeping over the slope of Naraku's jaw.

"I just had some work that needed doing. Don't tell me you were lonely, Naraku-dono..." As if he hadn't longed to see him, himself. He wouldn't have come if he could take another day without the so-called torment he'd so often been entreated to. It'd been months, it seemed, since he last saw him, the softer sides of him more excited than afeared - used to the monstrous entrances and rough-handling by now.

He hummed softly, wondering if the tightness of Naraku's grip had any true bite behind it. Was he angry? Frustrated? Dismayed? Excited in his own way, perhaps? Naraku was still a mystery to him in most circumstances, but if he had been angry, Kaede suspected he'd have been treated far worse than this. Killed, maybe, he couldn't be sure. Or...abandoned, realistically. But such hadn't been the case, no, not if Naraku had swarmed him, towered over him, gripped him so tightly--

"If this is your way of saying you missed me," he muttered, a certain sweetness to his words as he turned his head just enough to sneak a peek into violet eyes and an unreadable expression. Always so intimidating...! "Then, I missed you all the same."

[diner-drama]

Following your feet to try and outrun your fate (1/?)

If you like wholesome (if gory) queer, poly representation and you haven't yet watched The Bastard Son and the Devil Himself, please do go ahead and do that.

Here begins my first Nabrielise story! Also on AO3.

Sitting with his back against the kitchen wall, Nathan stared at the fridge and imagined that he could hear Soul's heart beating through the white plastic door. The blood rushing in his ears was so loud he was startled when Gabriel appeared next to him, hair still damp from the shower and a stack of clean clothes in his arms.

"Cheer up," he said, nudging Nathan's side with his boot. "If you stare at it any harder, it will burst into flames."

"Shut up," Nathan replied without bite, resting his head against Gabriel's knee and letting out an exhausted sigh. "I'm thinking."

"Don't hurt yourself," Gabriel murmured. Nathan scowled up at him, but couldn't help answering his smile with one of his own.

Annalise shuffled out of the bathroom, chugging a glass of water and looking grey in the face as her father's blood dried in her hair. Gabriel walked over to her, and in his peripheral vision Nathan saw him press the clothes into her hands and press a kiss to her forehead.

Sitting with his back against the kitchen wall, Nathan stared at the fridge and imagined that he could hear Soul's heart beating through the white plastic door. The blood rushing in his ears was so loud he was startled when Gabriel appeared next to him, hair still damp from the shower and a stack of clean clothes in his arms.

"Cheer up," he said, nudging Nathan's side with his boot. "If you stare at it any harder, it will burst into flames."

"Shut up," Nathan replied without bite, resting his head against Gabriel's knee and letting out an exhausted sigh. "I'm thinking."

"Don't hurt yourself," Gabriel murmured. Nathan scowled up at him, but couldn't help answering his smile with one of his own.

Annalise shuffled out of the bathroom, chugging a glass of water and looking grey in the face as her father's blood dried in her hair. Gabriel walked over to her, and in his peripheral vision Nathan saw him press the clothes into her hands and press a kiss to her forehead.

"Shower," Gabriel instructed her gently, cupping the back of her head and giving her one of his sweet, reassuring smiles. She nodded mutely and went back into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Gabriel crossed back to the kitchen sink and began to wash his hands, scrubbing under his nails with a brush and then turning the tap off with his elbow before drying his hands on a clean towel and grabbing a few glass bottles from the counter. He slid down the wall to sit next to Nathan and started unwinding the bloody bandage from his hand.

"You're lucky not to have an infection," he tutted, inspecting the wound carefully. Taking the stopper out of one jar, he wetted a cotton ball and began to tenderly clean the skin, making Nathan hiss at the sting. "This dressing is filthy."

"I've been a bit fucking busy, alright?"

"If you are killed by staphylococcus after surviving all of that shit, I will never speak to you again," Gabriel threatened.

"Well, yeah. I'd be dead, wouldn't I?"

They laughed, and then Nathan watched in comfortable silence as Gabriel ministered to his hand with gentle fingers, rubbing in salves and murmuring incantations until the pain was reduced to a dull ache.

"What is this place, anyway?" he asked after a few minutes. Once they'd caught their breath after the fight, they'd scooped up Soul's heart and silently followed Gabriel as he sprinkled blue powder into the air, manifesting a doorway and walking through it into a cosy little flat, and few words had been exchanged since.

"A safe place."

"Yeah, but-"

The question he was going to ask was interrupted when Annalise emerged from the bathroom, towelling off her hair, wearing a t-shirt bearing the name of a punk band he'd never heard of, and a pair of Gabriel's boxers.

"You should eat my dad's heart," she announced to Nathan abruptly. She was still trembling slightly, but the set of her jaw was determined.

"Just like that, yeah?" he scoffed, looking up at her in incredulity.

"It's the only thing that makes sense," she insisted, staring him down. He looked away from her, his eyes drawn back to the fridge, and they all gazed mutely at the white plastic door together.

Gabriel broke the silence. "We should sleep on it," he said gently, squeezing Nathan's shoulder and meeting Annalise's eyes. "It will keep for one more day, at least."

"Fine," she agreed. "But you've got to do it, Nathan," she added fiercely.

"Gabriel's right," said Nathan wearily, dragging himself up to standing. "I'm too tired to deal with any of this. Where's the bedroom?"

"This way," said Gabriel, taking Nathan's offered hand to help him up and then ushering Annalise through the doorway. When Nathan tried to follow, he stopped and scowled at him.

"What do you think this is, a pig sty?" he tutted. "Take a shower and change out of those clothes before you get blood all over the sheets."

Rolling his eyes, Nathan turned away towards the bathroom and gave Gabriel the finger over his shoulder. Gabriel's chuckle followed him as he closed the bathroom door behind him.

Begrudgingly, Nathan had to admit that he felt better after cleaning the grime and blood from his skin and hair, and pulling on a pair of unfamiliar boxer shorts and a clean t-shirt before padding in bare feet back towards the bedroom. Annalise and Gabriel were smoothing a fresh sheet over the mattress, bickering over the corners and shoving each other.

"Am I clean enough to touch the sheets yet?" asked Nathan. Gabriel eyed him up and down, then turned to Annalise.

"What do you think?"

"He'll do," she declared, some of her usual humour returning.

"You two can take this bed," said Gabriel, tucking in the last corner. "There is another room down the hallway." When he straightened up, Annalise took hold of his hand and laced her fingers between his.

"Would you stay?" she asked gently. "It's alright if not, it's just-"

"I'll stay."

Nathan grinned at him and squeezed his arm, and Gabriel brought up his other hand to cover his, squeezing both of their hands for a moment.

"I'm going in the middle this time," said Annalise, hustling Nathan onto the far side of the bed and wriggling under the covers to join him. "I feel like all the molecules in my body are about to vibrate apart and drift away."

"Well, we don't want that," said Gabriel.

"I figure if I have one of you on either side of me that'll like... keep me grounded, or whatever." Her tone was light, but tears were threatening to spill out of her eyes and she swallowed firmly and clenched her jaw before grabbing Nathan's hand and holding it to her chest, over her heart.

Gabriel undressed and slid into bed next to them, covering Nathan's hand with his own and dropping a little kiss onto Annalise's shoulder before closing his eyes.

Nathan watched Annalise as she settled to sleep, her breathing slowing along with her pulse, the lines of worry on her forehead smoothing out. In their warm little cocoon under the blankets, it was difficult to believe that just a few hours ago he was certain he'd never see either of them again. The soaring elation of being alive and being in love was warring against the overwhelming terror and grief that had filled their day, and the overall effect was bone-deep tiredness like he'd never felt before. It felt as though gravity were pulling him down into the mattress so strongly that it would be impossible to lift his arms. He fell asleep with the sound of heartbeats warming his ears.

Despite his complete exhaustion, Nathan slept fitfully, drifting away and then back throughout the night. At one point, half-asleep, he dimly heard murmured words between Annalise and Gabriel and the sound of a stifled sob, but his eyelids stubbornly refused to open and he fell back into a doze despite his best efforts. The next time he woke up, he cracked his eyes open and saw Annalise wrapped tightly in Gabriel's arms, her head resting on his chest, both sound asleep. Despite the horror of their situation, he couldn't help the wave of affection that swept through him at the sight, and when he wrapped his arm around both of them and fell back to sleep, he had a smile on his face.

The early morning sun was just beginning to send pale rays through the curtains when the bedroom door banged open and they heard a torrent of angry, rapid French. Annalise and Nathan sat bolt upright, startled, but Gabriel just rubbed his eyes and groaned.

"That's an extremely long story," he answered in English, peering up at the newcomer. The tall, dark-haired older man crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows impatiently.

"What'd he say?" asked Nathan warily, turning to Gabriel.

"I said, 'what the fuck did you put in my fridge?'" answered the stranger.

"Oh, that," said Gabriel in a casual voice. "It's-"

"It's my dad's heart," said Annalise sharply. "Sorry, who are you?"

"This is Daniel," explained Gabriel, propping himself up on his elbows. "And we are in his spare room."

"I thought you said this was a safehouse!" hissed Nathan.

"I never said it was my safehouse."

"I'm making coffee," said Daniel, rolling his eyes. "Get dressed and get out here to explain. You weren't followed?"

Gabriel shook his head. "I was careful."

"I hope so," muttered Daniel, slamming the door behind him.

"What the fuck?" said Annalise.

"Yeah, what she said," added Nathan.

"It's fine," Gabriel insisted, rolling out of bed and groping for his trousers on the floor. "Just get dressed."

Nathan and Annalise shot significant looks at each other while they pulled their borrowed clothes back on, but Gabriel offered no further explanation and just fussed around making the bed and tidying away their things before shouldering open the door and gesturing for them to follow him. The sound of the washing machine and the smell of coffee greeted them when they made it to the kitchen. Daniel was at the stove, throwing herbs into a saucepan and muttering to himself.

Annalise stood on her tiptoes to look over his shoulder. "You're an alchemist," she said, gesturing at Daniel's stained fingertips. "Like Gabriel."

"No, he's better than me," said Gabriel. He grabbed a mug from the counter and took a sip, then screwed up his face. "But he can't make coffee for shit," he added.

Turning back from the stove, Daniel slapped Gabriel gently around the back of the head and made a face at him. Something about their dynamic twigged in Nathan's brain.

"Is this your brother?" he asked.

"We grew up together," explained Gabriel, then he paused and a vulnerable look came into his downcast eyes. "At Mercury's."

"Mercury's your mum?" exclaimed Nathan.

"Jesus Christ, no! Ugh!"

"Alright! You can't help who your parents are, you know."

There was a clinking sound as Annalise set down her cup, her hands shaking, and then she pressed her lips together tightly and left the room.

"Do you want me to come after you?" yelled Nathan.

"No!"

"Do you think she just needs a minute?" he asked Gabriel, feeling lost. Gabriel nodded and wrapped an arm around Nathan's shoulders, squeezing him gently.

"Her dad just died," said Nathan in response to Daniel's blank look.

"I gathered that," said Daniel slowly, as though he were an idiot. "Given that his heart is making my best Tupperware dirty. Gabriel, who are these people?"

Gabriel took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and then launched into the story, starting with Nathan and Annalise stumbling into his apartment in London and leaving very little out. Whenever he began to falter, Nathan squeezed his hand in reassurance.

"And then I had to walk to Mercury's on my own," continued Gabriel, "because this stupid idiot kissed me and then pushed me off a fucking building-"

"I'm sorry, what?" said Annalise from the hallway. She poked her head around the doorway.

"I kissed Gabriel," explained Nathan sheepishly. "I don't know if that makes things weird for you or-"

"He threw you off a building?" she asked Gabriel, ignoring Nathan. She rushed over and threw her arms around Gabriel's neck when he nodded, and she glared at Nathan over his shoulder.

"It was actually very heroic of me," he protested.

"It was stupid," replied Gabriel.

"So stupid," Annalise agreed, clutching Gabriel tighter.

"So you're not bothered, then? You know, that I-"

"Why wouldn't you kiss Gabriel?" she huffed impatiently, releasing him and slipping her arm around his waist. "He's kissable as fuck."

"Thank you," said Gabriel, looking very pleased with himself.

"You're very welcome. Now carry on with the story."

"Right, well, once I got Nathan's family blood from Mercury's and got back to Wolfhagen, her father had already collected many powers, and he wanted to kill Nathan. We had to fight him and, uh," he tailed off and shot a cautious look at Annalise.

"I exploded him, basically," she said bluntly. Daniel's eyes widened slightly, but he took the news fairly calmly, considering.

"So why haven't you eaten his heart yet?" he asked, turning to Nathan.

"I keep telling him to!" said Annalise.

"It's weird, alright! I mean, your dad was mental - what if I get his powers and they make me mental, too?"

"Nathan," Gabriel remonstrated gently.

"I'm just saying, we don't know what risks there are. And how am I going to deal with having loads of new powers all at once that I don't know how to control?"

"How are you going to keep yourself safe without them?" asked Gabriel.

"Whatever members of the Fairborn Council are still alive are going to be after us," Annalise pointed out, "plus your dad's mates, not to mention your sister and now Mercury as well!"

"Excuse me?" said Daniel sharply. They fell silent.

"That is the other part of the problem," admitted Gabriel. "Mercury did not want to give me the blood."

Daniel looked up at the ceiling and took a breath before he spoke. "What the fuck, Gabriel?" he said in a tight, carefully controlled voice.

"I didn't want to put you in danger, but I didn't know where else to go."

"Put me in danger!" yelled Daniel. "When are you going to stop putting yourself in danger, you stupid fucking-"

"He was going to die! What was I supposed to do?"

"You're giving up smoking," snapped Daniel, striding over to grab the pack of cigarettes out of Gabriel's pocket and throwing them in the bin. "I can only deal with one of your self-destructive habits at a time."

"Please give those back to me. I've had a very difficult week," complained Gabriel, not making a move to take them back out of the bin.

"I'll make you some green tea," said Daniel through gritted teeth. He turned away to fill up a kettle, tension in every line of his body.

Nathan turned to Gabriel and gave him a questioning look, mouthing the word "what?"

Gabriel waved a hand, shrugging his shoulders. "This is how we discuss things," he murmured. "Listen, we need some things for breakfast. There's an Aldi at the end of the street, why don't you go there and pick up some pastries and bread while we talk." He reached into a pocket in his coat and pulled out a bundle of euros, which Annalise plucked from his fingers.

"Where are we anyway?" asked Nathan.

"Berlin," replied Daniel, not turning around.

"Finally, a language I actually speak!" crowed Nathan. "I got an A in GCSE German, you know."

"Good for you," drawled Gabriel, chivvying him out of the room. "The door's over there. There, there. Go!"

By the time they returned from the shops, laden with bags, Gabriel and Daniel seemed to have finished their conversation, and Gabriel greeted them outside the door, flicking his plastic lighter on and off distractedly.

"Yes, we did buy you a box of fags," said Annalise before he could ask.

"You know, that word has a double meaning," said Gabriel, smirking as he pulled one out and lit it, breathing in the smoke like a drowning man gasping for air.

"I don't think they sell the other kind in Aldi."

"We didn't check the middle aisle though," Nathan pointed out. "They've got all kinds of stuff there."

"Did you use your GCSE German?" teased Gabriel gently.

Nathan shrugged. "I said 'danke schön'."

"Wow, you must have really earned that A."

"Shut up."

"How did it go with Daniel?" asked Annalise, pulling a croissant out of the shopping bag and picking at it. "Is he still upset with you?"

Gabriel blew a thin stream of smoke into the air. "He'll forgive me."

"You two are really close, aren't you?" said Nathan. "I always wanted a brother."

"They're not that great," said Annalise darkly.

"Still, good to have somebody who gets it. I met Mercury once, you know," said Nathan, shuddering at the memory. "Or... my gran breathed in some weird smoke and then sort of turned into her. I didn't like her. She kept... touching me."

"Yeah, that's Mercury," replied Gabriel, not meeting his eye. Abruptly, he dropped his cigarette and ground it out under his heel. "Let's go back inside."

Annalise and Nathan exchanged a look and then followed him inside. Daniel was standing at the kitchen table, poring over a map.

"It would be best to approach Mercury's from the south," he said briskly. "She won't have as much visibility that way. You should eat that heart now," he added, turning to Nathan. "You won't be any use to us if you can't control your powers by the time we leave."

"They're not coming with us," hissed Gabriel, folding up the map and shoving it into Daniel's hands.

"Not coming with you where?" asked Annalise.

"I still have some... unfinished business at Mercury's," said Gabriel unwillingly, glaring at Daniel until he put the map into his pocket.

"What kind of business?"

"It's not your concern."

"I'm pretty fucking concerned, so you might as well tell us."

"There is a young boy. One of Mercury's... possessions," he spat, lip curling in distaste. "I promised that I would come back for him."

"Then we're coming with you," said Nathan immediately.

"It's too dangerous, and it's not your problem."

Annalise scoffed. "Nathan and I don't know anything about facing danger, obviously."

"And we're all up in each other's business all the time! We're coming, and that's final. I don't care if it's dangerous."

"A lot of my favourite people are dead now!" shouted Gabriel, losing his cool. "So could you please take some fucking care of your own lives? Jesus Christ."

"I'm beginning to see why you pushed him off a building," muttered Annalise.

"I can't protect you from Mercury," Gabriel insisted.

"What makes you think I need your protection?" scoffed Nathan.

"What are you going to do, start throwing punches? She has powerful magic."

"Yeah, well, so will I," he announced, looking pale but determined. He strode to the fridge and yanked open the door, pulling out the tub from the top shelf. "Just as soon as I eat this."

Gabriel's hand found Annalise's as they watched him pick up the red, dripping heart from the container. He hesitated for a moment, looking into their eyes for solace, before gathering his courage and raising the heart to his mouth.

Nathan screwed up his face and took his first bite.

[destinyimage]

Breaking Demonic Barriers to Your Healing: Why the Devil Wants to Hinder You

The devil is bent upon our destruction and has only one mission—that is to steal, to kill, and to destroy us (see John 10:10).

But just because this is his mission, do we have to comply with his destructive behavior against us?

Have you ever asked yourself, “Why is he against me?” The answer is simple—he fears you, he fears the fulfillment of your destiny, and he fears your seed, the future generation. So he is out to destroy you and end their lives before they can fulfill or even begin to fulfill their destiny in Christ.

Prophetically, I speak and share with you what I see: I walk into a spiritual nursery where hope conceives faith, and faith produces miracles, but somehow faith has been lost, and the miracles are aborted, miscarried, or are birthed but die shortly thereafter.

Are You Expecting That Miracle?

Are you expecting that miracle? This is an important question to ask yourself. So many people are waiting on God for a mighty miracle. But I’m telling you, God is waiting for you. He is waiting for you to line up to the Word of God and for you to do it His way. This is pure obedience. When we obey God and do things His way, the blessings of God come upon us. And they don’t just come upon us, they chase us down. I don’t know about you, but I want God’s blessings to run after me.

Now it shall come to pass, if you diligently obey the voice of the Lord your God, to observe carefully all His commandments which I command you today, that the Lord your God will set you high above all nations of the earth. And all these blessings shall come upon you and overtake you, because you obey the voice of the Lord your God (Deuteronomy 28:1-2 NKJV).

This is an exciting way to live, and it comes from trusting and obeying God. Let’s expound on this for a moment.

Faith is trust. You can have such bold faith when you trust God. And faith is the only way to please Him. He wills that we come boldly before His throne of grace. We can whine and complain and even blame God for the problems in our life. Adam and Eve did this in the Garden of Eden (see Genesis 3:12-19). Adam blamed Eve, then Eve blamed the devil. But did their situation change for the better after they blamed the devil for their disobedience? No, it did not.

How about the Israelites when they wandered in the wilderness? They murmured and complained about everything. Did that move God to get them out of that situation? No, it did not. They wandered in that wilderness for forty years. (You can read about this true story in the Book of Exodus.) They just didn’t quite get the fact that God isn’t moved by our negative emotional outbursts or our accusing words against Him. So what does move Him and get His face to turn our way if these temper tantrums do not work? Faith does. He gravitates to people of faith.

But without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him (Hebrews 11:6 NKJV).

So allow me to ask you again, “Are you expecting that miracle?” I believe for many of you that miracle is on the verge of manifesting. But you must get out of the waiting room and into that birthing room. You need to step out of the realm of just hoping for that miracle to manifest to where you are expecting it to manifest.

You can wait and wait for the manifestation of that miracle to happen, but it won’t—not until you move out of the realm of hope and into the realm of faith where you expect that miracle to take place.

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I am a mother of eight, and I gave birth to three; the others were adopted. Each pregnancy and birth was different, but here is one thing that was the same each time. Shortly before giving birth, something would happen to me, as it does with all mothers—a nesting instinct would rise within me. I had to make sure everything I could do, I did. Every nook and cranny in our home had to be scrubbed with everything neatly in its place. Basically, nothing was left undone, and I remained in preparation mode until I accomplished it all. Then, shortly after that time of making ready for that miracle, that child to come—they did.

It’s the same way in the supernatural realm of faith. You first are hopeful, then you move into the next phase of expectancy, you prepare for delivery day, and finally the miracle manifests.

Let’s Pray

Father God,

Right now, in the name of Jesus, I renounce this sickness and this disease attacking these people. I pray in faith, believing without wavering with doubt and unbelief that You have already released the power of Your blood to heal each one reading this prayer of faith. By Your stripes, those healing whips You bore upon Your back to purchase healing for all, were not in vain, but their healings manifest fully, leaving nothing undone. All this I pray for the glory of the Lord, amen.

Lies That Women Are Taught to Believe

To help you step into the arena of faith for your miracle, I want to look at lies that women are taught to believe that have the power to stop that healing from manifesting before it has a chance to even begin.

God cannot forgive an unwed mother; therefore, she cannot receive the benefits of God, including healing.

Now, where does the Bible say this? Nowhere! But what does God’s Word say about forgiveness? “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9 NKJV).

To bring clarity, I am not condoning motherhood out of wedlock, but simply presenting the truth that an unwed mother can be forgiven and can receive the benefits of God listed in Psalm 103:2-5 (NKJV). To teach otherwise is blasphemous against the blood of Christ to redeem us.

Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits: who forgives all your iniquities, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from destruction, who crowns you with lovingkindness and tender mercies, who satisfies your mouth with good things, so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

A woman who had an abortion can never be forgiven. This sin will be held against her forever.

This is another lie from the religious sector that has caused so much damage. Women who have had abortions are emotionally scarred. They carry a heavy load of guilt and condemnation for what they have done. But even this sin can be forgiven. The Bible is clear concerning the New Covenant found in the New Testament: after the suffering of Jesus at Calvary and the resurrection from the dead, “For I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more” (Hebrews 8:12 NIV). And we are taught in James 5:16 (NIV), “Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.” So yes, God even forgives a woman who repents from the sin of abortion, and He wills to heal her too.

Because she is a woman, she is not allowed to activate her faith to believe unless her husband gives her permission to do so.

I know this is controversial, but I have seen such a deep misunderstanding of the Word concerning women and submission (which is an attitude and not obedience), and it has caused great harm in the lives of women. It is beyond time for this spiritual abuse to stop.

I have had women tell me that they would get into trouble with their husband if they chose to fight for their life and believe God for the healing of their body. This is not the action of a man who loves his wife but one who has a problem with control.

Again, I clarify my personal beliefs. I am not saying to have a rebellious attitude against your husband, but a woman has the God-given right, just as a man has, to trust the Lord for His healing touch to flow through her body, just as the woman with the issue of blood did in Luke 8:42-48 (NKJV).

But as He went, the multitudes thronged Him. Now a woman, having a flow of blood for twelve years, who had spent all her livelihood on physicians and could not be healed by any, came from behind and touched the border of His garment. And immediately her flow of blood stopped.

And Jesus said, “Who touched Me?”

When all denied it, Peter and those with him said, “Master, the multitudes throng and press You, and You say, ‘Who touched Me?’”

But Jesus said, “Somebody touched Me, for I perceived power going out from Me.” Now when the woman saw that she was not hidden, she came trembling; and falling down before Him, she declared to Him in the presence of all the people the reason she had touched Him and how she was healed immediately.

And He said to her, “Daughter, be of good cheer; your faith has made you well. Go in peace.”

As we read this woman’s healing testimony, we can see that Jesus did not ask this woman if she was married or, if she was, if her husband gave her permission to come to Him for healing. The issue of submission to a male authority never was even mentioned. So this religious belief must be exposed for what it is—a lie.

A divorced woman is to be shunned, forever guilty, and deserves to be sick. She’s unclean and not worthy to receive God’s blessings, such as healing.

I remember one such woman who was in an AIDS hospice. Her family and members of the church she belonged to would not come to visit her or show her any type of support because she was very sick with HIV. They never took into consideration that it was her husband who was unfaithful, infected her with this disease, and then left her for a younger woman. She was treated unfairly and made to feel like an outcast among family and friends. But was she an outcast to God? She was told that she was, and she believed what they said to her. But what does God’s Word have to say to this woman, or to any woman who finds themselves in a similar situation?

For your husband is your Maker, the Lord of hosts is His name; and your Redeemer is the Holy One of Israel, who is called the God of the whole earth (Isaiah 54:5 AMP).

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand (Isaiah 41:10 NIV).

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light (Matthew 11:28-30 NIV).

“For I will restore health to you and I will heal your wounds,” says the Lord (Jeremiah 30:17 AMP).

Ask Holy Spirit to show you if there is a lie that is preventing you from trusting the Lord for your divine healing from Jesus. If He reveals a lie to you, write it down, and look up one to three verses from the Bible to undo the power of that lie that was planted within your mind and emotions.

Throughout the Gospels, we read how Jesus broke all religious barriers to heal the people. So why would we then put up barriers that prevent people to come and be healed?

Remember, God’s Word is truth, and health and healing are good gifts from God for your benefit. Don’t allow anyone to steal them from you by telling you lies.

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[oakthcrn]

send CHANGED for a scene from my muse's past that represented a turning point in their life

GLIMPSES OF THE PAST: a headcanon / prompt collection

accepting @wrlckd

Caelum was dead. There was no changing it. His soul was gone. The ground was growing colder as the blood from her gaping wound stained the grass. Her abdomen was torn asunder. It had happened too quickly for Lark to recall fully, but she did remember the Teifling in the Devil's mask, and then the flash of his blade.

He brutalized Caelum and then afflicted her with the grievous wound for ever daring to stop him. Now she was going to die beside her husband. She just hoped that she would reunite with him in the next life.

With the last bit of strength she could muster, Lark Oakthorn shifted until she was upon her back. The sky had been unusually clear that night, perhaps it was some small gift granted to her in her last moments.

' If you continue to lay here, you'll die. '

Lark blinked. Was she going mad? She could've thought she heard someone speak, but then again, she couldn't be sure. Her brows furrowed as her eyes began to grow heavy.

' If you shut your eyes girl, you'll shut them forever. '

Lark scoffed and tried to glance around, but the pain was thrumming through her, there would be no moving.

" My wound is deep..." she muttered hoarsely. " There is nothing I can do..." her voice strained, and her chest ached deeply, she was slowly suffocating.

' There is always something you can do. ' The voice said. ' Simply make a pact with me and you'll be healed. '

Lark fought against the approaching darkness that wished to claim her, her gaze fixated at a being manifesting right before her. The stranger stood over six foot easily, dark and covered from feathers. She heard the cackling of a crow in the distance, and then another. Lark could distinguish a terrifying figure before her. Long sleek black hair draped on each side of his skill head, but not just any kind of skull, it was equine in nature. From its skeletal face sprouted knotting antlers. An Archfey, Lark concluded.

" I don't want...to die." Lark managed to say despite the air becoming fleeting in her lungs.

' Make a pact with me, and I will heal you. I wish for you to live. '

Lark shivered and stared at the being before her. It would be foolish to give her life to a patron, but something about those dark pits that had a pinch of concern in them. Their words were genuine.

Exhaling a resigned sigh.

" Alright. I shall make a pact with you." She found herself saying. Ina sudden flash, the pain was gone, her torso stitching itself back together and in the span of an eyeblink, Lark was standing upright, naught a scar or speck upon her.

Glancing up at her savor, Lark stared at him with a look of awe. An Archfey healed her in the exchange of her soul.

" Why would you help me?" she found herself asking.

The Archfey canted his head uncannily to the side at her question.

' Because I am quite fond of your hair color. '

Lark bit back a laughing sob and shook her head. " Well thank you..." she began. Now that she was no longer on Death's doorstep, her fear turned to anger towards her assailant.

" That maniac killed my husband." she seethed as tears pricked her eyes.

The Archfey summoned a handkerchief and held it to her. Lark slowly took it from him and stared. " So...what must I do for you? You have my soul in a pact now."

' Live ' he spoke, his voice gentle. ' and if you were to get revenge on your assailant...then I will lend you my power. '

Lark stared at him for a moment. She wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

" Thank you...What is your name?"

' Orias.' and within another blink of an eye, he was gone. Lark glanced around for a moment before settling beside the body of her husband. The growing need for revenge growing within her heart. She would track down the madman that did this and she would use every tool at her disposal to make him suffer, just as Caelum suffered. That, she would call upon her new patron for.

[banemcdeath-blog]

Today, I shall reveal a darker thought that maybe coffee is the cause of or maybe I have been touched by insanity.

Just a recap:

I believe this dark evil Yahwehova god is nasty indeed. Jesus Christ is a dark sorcerer traversing many dimensions to entrap, imprison, and enslave mankind destroying his willpower, his freedom, knowledge of truth, and perverting the Justice and true nature of all creation. While he is away, his sorcerous twin clone the Holy Spirit is manifested as a force to ensure it entraps and lures more souls into slavery. The force known as Satan/Lucifer is but another tool of the dark god Yahweh/Jehova (yahwehova). As GOD enjoyed the smell of burnt flesh sacrifice offering in the OT, it surely will love the smell and taste of an eternal hell bbq of millions (or billion upon trillions of parallel multidimensional onmniversal realities exist).

We “sin” or don’t appease “GOD” and it devours our essence forever in hell. We become slaves as its sorcerous avatar Jesus Christ buys our wages of sin. As slaves we are locked away in this huge cube Heaven it is creating made of gold and gems and sounds like a huge living machine perhaps manufactured by the mega robot-archangel METATRON. Designing the tesseract hypercube Heaven is GOD’s last creation sone say and will house all the host of Heaven. Likely, more war machines to conquer not just this world but all worlds, galaxies, and universes.

Mankind may be the last stand against this tyrannical megalomaniac narcissistic dark evil god. And mankind is losing as the candle is burnt from both ends of this “sin” vs “surrender” paradox.

Can the entire host of undead angels (for they do not live as we nor are they dead) and creatures this god controls as well as the demons and devils it has at its disposal from the fires of hell (separate from its lake of eternal bbq fire) be defeated?

Maybe…. It only takes one insane hobo to thwart this cosmic plan. Maybe the omniverse needs to be destroyed. The “Holy Trinity” and its dark secular spirit empire must be destroyed. The religious fools caught the attention of these cthuloid entities and they plan to feed upon mankind and destroy our world.

Man should submit to no one. We strive to be ever free of any shackle including ones by other men.

(Quoted notations revealed through songs)

“ We are free as the wind

We have fought, we have sinned

In glory and pain

Our stand will remain

Mighty swords are held high

Hear the roaring from the sky

Heaven's turning red

By the blood of the dead

Fighting on the battlefield in search for the Golden Land

Riding side by side for freedom, the brotherhood of men

We are sending out a warning to every warrior in town

Gather your sword, and weapons, war is shaking the ground

Soldiers gather weapons to defend what's left of the town

Darkness wrounds us everywhere, we have to protect the crown

Treatening shadows getting closer now, the end feels so near

Fight for honour, fight for freedom, face your fear

Raise your shields and fight till you die

Fight till your enemies draw their last breath

Raise your swords, high in the sky

Riding the storm, let them face death

“The battle is near, we have to find a way

to save us from this evil lord of death.

We rise from the ashes, like a phoenix we fly high.

Spread our wings and fight for freedom 'till the day we die.

The eternal flames still burn inside our hearts with pride and joy.

That is something you can never kill or destroy.”