#as he prepares to smite yet another God

[spectral-snippets-and-drabbles]

A Martyr From the Ashes

For everyone in the fandom saying saying that Danny thinks Martian ManHunter is cooler than Superman, we don't really see it all that much in writing.

I'mma try and fix that...

~•~•~•~•~•~

The Martian Book of Legends held the heroic tale of Saint Da'han'yul Fen'tuun of Mars, a sickly albino priest of a small town that held marriages, sermons regarding life and how it should be enriched and lived to its fullest, and specialized in funerals that used cremations with fire, a feat thought to be physically impossible by the masses. As people saw him look into the flames without fear while others cowered, rumors spread that the young man was blessed by H'ronmeer himself, the Martian God of Fire, Life, and Death.

People spoke about how Da'han'yul turned down all attempts at courtship, for he had decided to dedicate his life to bring light in the darkest times to all lives in the name of his God. He was a thing of beauty with a gentle soul and shy demeanor, even the Red and Green skinned who had still held a firm belief on the caste system could not deny his charm. How the terminally ill Martian carried on his mission with a smile, nobody knew.

However, tragedy struck on the day that should have spelled the beginning of the end for the Martian people. A parasitic species had invaded the Martian Homeworld and was causing untold havoc. As civilians fled from the threat and prepared a counter offensive, it was Da'han'yul Fen'tuun who charged into the danger headfirst to save his people from becoming prey.

As others pleaded for him to run away, in a great bright flash of light, a gigantic Martian loomed over the enemy emerged where the ill Martian stood, coated in flames in a form they've never seen before with a halo and body that burned a haunting green.

The deafening silence still held as the enormous creature brought a massive fist on the giant pale walker that was destroying homes. A wave of its hand sent a wall of green flames raced towards the foot soldiers, reducing them to ash while his people and buildings were not harmed in any form without an ounce fear of these fires the creature used to purge the enemy. Within the hour, the threat had been neutralized and peace was brought back to the red planet.

As the Martian people looked to the titan, they knew. H'ronmeer's had chosen his most loyal servant, Da'han'yul, as the avatar of his wrath to smite those who would bring his people harm. The people hugged and wept tears of joy and cheered for the priest and H'ronmeer for saving them, but the tears soon became tears of sorrow.

The giant groaned in pain as he fell on one knee as it began to crumble into ash before the people's very eyes. Like a flame, Da'han'yul Fen'tuun had burned his brightest when life needed him most, and now death called to him as it slowly extinguished it to give him peace. With a final message, he pleaded to his people to come together as one and to not see one another as lesser or greater than, but as equals who can help one another in the darkest of times and the hardships yet to come. With his final moments gone, a final telepathic embrace was given to all before he fell silent for the last time.

The massive pile of ash that were his remains was brought back to his little village and made into a beautiful garden of ash in the temple where the newly titled Saint made his home in, where it would be made a holy site that many would come to give their thanks and pay their respects for H'ronmeer' and his champion alike.

And for centuries, peace was held before it was shattered by Ma'alefa'ak, who unleashed the Fire Plague to take vengeance on his people for his inability to experience the psionic way of life that was the norm. His smile as his people screamed in anguish was knocked off his face in the most literal of terms when a Martian struck him down and had him by the throat.

A Martian with eyes burning in anger as Ma'alefa'ak failed to break free and was being beaten severely for his crimes against the people of Mars. A Martian made entirely up of ash and green embers.

Saint Da'han'yul Fen'tuun had returned, if only for a moment longer. And he was not happy.

Quickly, one by one across the planet, the martians set ablaze burned a gentle green that healed them. In this miraculous act of divine intervention, not a single Martian had lost their life. Most were now unconscious with labored breathing being heard.

J'onn watched on as his brother screamed in agony as his body burst into green flames as a pool of ash began to swallow his brother whole. Before disappearing entirely, Da'han'yul told him the punishment his brother would be facing.

"Ma'alefa'ak's psionic abilities have been awoken. He will be sentenced to become a living flame until he has lived the collective life span of all that he has tried to extinguish."

J'onn was too stunned to speak. With how long a Martian can live, it was the equivalent of telling him his brother would be suffering for an eternity. It seemed unethical, but he knew his brother had dug his own grave the moment he saw the reanimated remains of Da'han'yul Fen'tuun's ashes take swift action.

"Everything will be ok now, J'onn. Go to your family and tend to them.

"Da'han'yul...Thank you. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you when you were still alive." J'onn solemnly uttered as he looked to the ground, unable to look at his deceased youngest brother.

"Nonsense J'onn, it's not your fault...The caste system...it–"

"I could've done more! Instead I saved myself instead of being there when my brothers needed me most!"

"J'onn...you were just a child."

"It makes none of it right!"

He was right in that aspect, but it still didn't feel right. Ma'alefa'ak' was ostracized by society, was treated like a freak of nature for lack of natural gifts and he wanted to burn society to the ground in the most literal of terms because of it.

While Da'han'yul, the forgotten youngest brother, was treated horribly for being albino and treated cruelly. He contracted a deadly disease when he separated himself from the family to live in isolation with other albinos that made him sickly and cut his life expectancy down severely. Knowing what befell him, seeing him struggle to move and hold down food at times while J'onn and their parents did nothing.

These tumultuous emotions sat in J'onn for so long. The way he wanted to go and help them both, but the fear of association and social punishment for merely being seen with his brothers made him cry when he younger for being so weak willed. It wasn't until their parents bragged about the sacrifice their forgotten child had made, the sone they purposely scorned made him snap.

"J'onn, promise to keep my message alive for me. Help our people become whole again."

"Of course, brother." Is what J'onn tells him as he watches his little brother vanish again for a third and final time.

[scoobydoodean]

Okay, now that I have finished 4.16 "On The Head of A Pin", it's time for a Uriel post, because Uriel makes a whole lot of sense and I don't think he gets enough credit for it.

Supernatural starts out introducing us to only three angels: Cas, Uriel, and Anna. And all of them are feeling or have felt the effects of heaven's iron fist—heaven's desire to control their lives, their thoughts, and all of their actions. Anna has already rebelled and fallen, and Cas AND Uriel are having serious doubts—doubts they are afraid to really speak to each other about candidly. We see this starting in 4.07.

In 4.07 "It's The Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester", Uriel and Cas were given orders to tell Dean to leave so they could smite the town and keep the seal from being broken by Samhain's rise. However, their true orders were not to intervene or force Dean to leave. If Dean refused to leave town or wanted to follow another path, they had orders to stand by and watch it happen.

Cas is ultimately pretty okay with this, because he had severe reservations about smiting the town and was troubled to think that could truly be heaven's will. He prayed that Dean would choose to save the town, but he's also aware of the "ends justify the means" angle, and thinks maybe he can't see the full picture and god can, so he can kind of... see both sides and maybe how all those lives were worth the seal from another perspective. This whole thing leaves him troubled... but Uriel is far more troubled.

Uriel thinks they should have wiped the town off the map, and he makes his resentment very clear—calls humans "Savages, just plumbing on two legs". He is certain that Dean will fail, and they will lose this seal, because humans are weak and stupid. And Sam and Dean do end up failing to prevent Samhain's rise—so his perspective is reinforced. He's angry that he's at the mercy of a human—someone he doesn't respect—and heaven is just letting this happen. He's furious about these orders that simply make no sense... but he can't talk to anyone about it—not even really Cas. When Uriel starts bad-mouthing humans, Cas warns him that he's close to blasphemy... and then Uriel actually suggests that they defy their orders. We know from Anna that this is an offense punishable by DEATH. What Uriel's suggesting is a HUGE deal. It's dangerous to even say it out loud.

The thing is, I don't think that Uriel is actually working for Lucifer yet in 4.07. In fact, we know he isn't working for Lucifer yet in 4.07 because he's very clear that he wants to prevent the seal being broken at all costs—to the point he's considering disobedience! I think Uriel deciding to work to free Lucifer is something that happens between 4.10 "Heaven and Hell" and 4.16 "On The Head of A Pin", as Uriel wrestles with his doubt in god and heaven with no one he can truly confide in without risking literal death.

CASTIEL: And any rate, it’s out of our hands. URIEL: It doesn’t have to be. CASTIEL: And what would you suggest? URIEL: That we drag Dean Winchester out of here and then we blow this insignificant pinprick off the map. CASTIEL: You know our true orders. Are you prepared to disobey?

Cas's words are as good as a threat—and Uriel recognizes them as such. He stares at Cas and goes silent, scared to say another word at the risk that Cas will report him or try to smite him.

I think Uriel is aware that Cas also has doubts and confusion about their orders, and that's why he hopes and tries to confide in Cas about his frustrations in 4.07—but the big difference between Uriel and Cas is that Uriel resents humanity like Lucifer did, while Cas loves humanity. Cas calls humanity "works of art" at the end of this episode, and their placement in the park in this scene, and later, Cas and Dean's placement in the park at the end of the episode—is a nod to the comfort that Cas—like Dean—receives from knowing these humans are alive because Dean refused to leave—whether they lost the seal or not! So Cas isn't going to be budged on this. Uriel is suggesting they disobey in a way that Cas wouldn't choose even if he was willing to consider disobedience to heaven at this point (which he isn't—he won't start considering disobeying until 4.16).

There's a fascinating deleted scene (deleted scene 2 here) in 4.10 where Uriel again vents his frustrations with heaven's bizarre orders to Cas. Once again, things haven't gone their way, and Uriel thinks Sam is responsible for part of it. But Cas says the order's come down from heaven that they aren't allowed to touch Sam—and then Uriel says he'll kill Ruby at least—only for Cas to say they aren't allowed to harm her either. Uriel is furious, and again Cas proves to be a very dangerous person to confide in:

URIEL You're joking! CASTIEL I don't joke. URIEL You mean we can't hunt a demon?! What's going on up there?! CASTIEL Clearly, they feel she has a part to play. URIEL It's crap. It's crap! And, you-- Forget about it! CASTIEL You are proposing disobedience. Like Anna. You know what I'll have to do.

Why is heaven defending demons? Why is heaven leaving the choice on how to handle breaking seals in the hand of a defiant human with no sense of the big picture? Uriel enjoyed getting a chance to wail on Dean in 4.10. He said he'd enjoy it—partly because of Dean's defiant attitude, but I also I think because Dean represents that first broken seal—he represents humanity's weakness (Uriel hates Dean for breaking—we know this from the end of 4.07 when he tells Sam he can knock Dean down a peg by asking him about Hell). He is no righteous man—Uriel doesn't believe in him for an instant. Heaven's orders are cryptic and confusing which already gives Uriel doubts in heaven's competence... but even worse, Dean's defiance reinforces that Heaven is the losing side here. They aren't going to stop the seals from breaking—not if this is their righteous man... someone who can't even follow orders—the one thing Heaven demands above all. If Uriel showed a fourth of the defiance Dean did, he'd be killed on the spot, but this human gets to mouth off to Uriel and there are no consequences.

So sometime between 4.10 and 4.16, Uriel begins disobeying. Uriel hates Dean—that's been made clear many times. But in 4.16, suddenly, Uriel responds to Dean's defiance toward heaven's orders with a laugh instead of threats and anger. He says,

Ah, this one just won't quit, will he? I think I'm starting to like you, boy.

Why the turn around on his feelings about Dean? Because between 4.10 and 4.16, Uriel started acting on his doubts and encouraging other angels to join him in disobedience. He started working to free Lucifer... so now, when he looks at Dean's defiance, he feels a kinship—he allows himself to feel recognition of his own resentment toward heaven—his own defiance of heaven's senseless orders. That certainly doesn't mean he likes Dean now (he's still plotting to kill him—now for the purposes of freeing Lucifer) but the defiance that infuriated him before is now... validating.

URIEL Not murders, Castiel. No. My work is conversion. How long have we waited here? How long have we played this game by rules that make no sense? CASTIEL It is our father's world, Uriel. URIEL Our father? He stopped being that, if he ever was, the moment he created them. Humanity, his favorites. This whining, puking larva.

Uriel hates humans, and he remembers Lucifer as someone who stood up to heaven.

URIEL You do remember him? How strong he was? How beautiful? And he didn't bow to humanity. He was punished for defending us. Now, if you want to believe in something, Cas, believe in him.

Uriel didn't really want to kill the other angels? He doesn't want to kill Cas in 4.16 either. He killed the angels who wouldn't join him because if he didn't, they'd reveal his disobedience and he'd be killed.

So through Anna, and Cas, and Uriel—we see the impact of heaven's senseless orders and brainwashing—the effects of the cult-like environment they're in and how each one doubts, and then eventually rebels. Anna rebels first, then Uriel... and next will be Cas. And what's interesting, is that in 4.16, Cas straight up tells Anna that he's considering disobedience, and then begs her to tell him what to do. I mentioned before that a part of Cas (in season 4) finds comfort in choices being out of his hands when he has doubts. Anna tells him to think for himself. But then right after that, Uriel asks Cas to join him... and Cas won't even consider it. So why? Cas is terrified to fall, but he's starting to think maybe he has to, and then Uriel gave him an opportunity and he said "no"—and he said no because, just like we saw in 4.07, Cas is in love with humanity. He could never align himself with Uriel and Lucifer, because they hate the humans Cas loves. In season 4, Cas's understanding of his love for humanity is primitive—he associates it with his love for god, as if he loves humanity only because they're his father's creations. He reiterates this sort of framing when Uriel is pummeling him in 4.16.

CASTIEL You can't win, Uriel. I still serve God. URIEL You haven't even met the man. There is no will. No wrath. No God.

Uriel is right about god—but then Anna steps up behind him and stabs him through the throat—and says:

ANNA Maybe. Or maybe not. But there's still me.

Anna, the angel who fell to earth and became human—tells us "there is still me". Anna—who, like Cas, is in love with humanity. There is no god, but there are still angels in love with humanity.

[perceval-van-fleet]

Rhode

It was a bad fuckin’ idea. A terrible, rotten, no-good fuckin’ idea; but Percy wasn’t sure the last time he’d had an idea that wasn’t all of those things. Standing on the street across from the church, he dragged off his cigarette - staring through the open doors at the altar. Far away though it seemed, he couldn’t quite will his feet to start making the journey. He blinked and saw nothing but visions of his mother - her hands bruising as she tugged a dress over his naked body. He’d cried that he didn’t want it, that he wanted to wear his clothes. A slap like a razorblade had quickly ended his protest. 

Dragged to church, forced to sit between his parents while the man at the pulpit preached how gays were gonna burn for all eternity. How God hated Fags. How the men who dressed like women were abominations in the eyes of the lord. Percy dropped the cigarette, closing his eyes - focusing on dispelling the memory. The confusion of it all. Rocks dropped back to the ground when he finally opened his eyes. A wave of force shook a few feet around him and he gasped as the concrete just beneath his heels cracked with telekinetic force. 

“C’mon. You can do it, you scraggly ol’ bitch. Just...fuckin’...just fuckin’ walk in. What’s the worst that can happen?” Percy thought of a movie he’d seen where a cross was pressed to the flesh of a possessed girl and smoked up like a burnt roast. He ground his teeth against the visual. 

Waiting for a passing car, he started over the street. Up the stairs. He paused only for a moment at the door before stepping inside. Staring at his hands, he waited for smoke. Waited for pain. Prepared to throw himself back outside should it be necessary. He readied his rage should Michael himself arrive on golden wings to smite him. 

And yet...nothing happened. He took a step forward. Nothing happened. Another step, this one not trembling quite so much and still - the hosts of Heaven did not arrive. “Well shit...” He chuckled to himself, almost amazed that he wasn’t being murdered by God at that very moment. Finding his way to one of the empty seats, indeed - the whole place was empty. He sat down...and bowed his head. 

How do I pray?

@nathaniel-green​

[dxrkdreamer]

Not So Bad

Modern Sukuna x Reader

Working late had been the bane of your existence, only getting worse when a certain man started showing up to your store’s parking lot to light his joints.

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: 18+ implied sex, mentions of weed.

(A/N: should I make a part 2? It seems pretty popular

Couldn’t come up with a name for the store so I used Anavrin from ‘YOU’)

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

“11:00 pm? Again?” you rubbed the back of your head trying to hide your frustration, the store manager nodded his head, sighing you agreed to stay late at work again since the closer frankly did not want to stay. So now here you are grumbling as you finish sweeping the floor and checking it off your log. You worked at a high end grocery store named Anavrin, a store that swore to sell organic produce and products to the best of quality. You took up a job here in your senior year of high school, planning on working for a few months to save up for college. And yet… 4 years later you’re still here grumbling at the extra hours you had taken. After your second year of working you had a promotion to supervisor… woo hoo!!... but it turned out it was more responsibility than expected. But it paid a little more and you could not argue with that.

‘I should be a little more optimistic, I’m graduating uni this year’ you’d tell yourself anytime you wanted to pull your hair out because of your measly job. You finished turning off the lights and locking the door, sighing as you felt the cold fall air hit your tired face, taking a deep breath of fresh air… wait a second “Who the fuck is smoking weed!” you yelled in a girly voice, as if this day was not long enough. Since you were in charge of a proper closing you marched off towards a tall man leaning against the back of the store, laughing and conversing on his phone. It was a little nostalgic, you remembered your highschool days, sneaking around and smoking pot in strange places. But he was not as young as a teenager, in fact his build made him look older than you.

“Hey! I’m going to ask you to leave, this is a smoke free property” You tried saying sternly gesturing to the sign right above them that read “no smoking” in bold letters. But your short stature compared to the man made you look like a kid waving your arms around attempting a snake dance.

“What on earth is this?” a man with pink hair and face tattoos said “I’m so scared, I should be so ashamed for not reading the sign” he cackled as he pressed the joint to his lips and inhaled again. “My apologies”

He did not look sorry at all.

“Look, I’ve had a long day. I’d like to go home so please go to a proper location or I’ll-” but you’re cut off with the joint stuffed to your pretty lips.

“You’ll what cutie?” he smirked as you stared at him dumbfounded, the joint stuck to your lip as you tried to figure out a reaction. But the man was already on his way towards his motorbike. Of course he had a motorbike. “First one’s always free darling, next time I’ll charge ya” he winked as he put his helmet on and sped off.

“Mother fucker” you swore and banged your head against the brick wall. ‘Never am I staying late again’ you groaned. You walked to your car, but not without tucking the joint safely in your pocket for when you got back home.

---

And that was your first of many nightly encounters with the pink haired man. You were not surprised to see him anymore in the parking lot, either smoking, laughing with friends or just sitting on his bike staring at his phone. You learned his name was Sukuna… you had asked for it during the nth time you threatened to call the cops. You also learned he sold weed to the store manager, so he pretty much had a free pass on smoking here.

“Working late again (name)? My, they must pay you a lot for you to stay here.” he smirked, watching you with grinning eyes. Your annoyance shot up at the mention of your little over minimum wage pay. They definitely were not paying you enough for the store, but giving you a delinquent like this guy… you had written your resignation letter a few times after his nightly visits. You ignored him as you walked to your car, heavy footsteps followed “I brought ya a little something” He grinned handing you a baggy with a cookie “It’s on the house, made ‘em myself”. Eyes narrowed as you tilted your head up to glare at him, but realized you were a lot closer than you expected. You could hear him breathe, feel the heat off his body and smell the spicy cologne he was wearing as you breathed a little too loudly trying to inhale the scent. “Not today darling, that package is for another date” he winked.

Oh my God.

What have you done? Sure he was hot and you didn’t mind the view, but his mouth made up for that. He was like an evil version of a talking cat. Opening his mouth to smite you, prideful like one and given the opportunity would sit on your face if you were lying down. Wait what?

“I’m not interested in you like that!” you squeeked.

He tilts his head to the side, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand “Then how are you interested in me?”

“I’m not interested unless you’re a customer, or an employee here or something!” Frustrated, you grabbed the zip loc with the cookie in it “And I’ll be confiscating this!”

“Sure thing, I made it just for you. It's a special recipe”

“I’ll let the cops know!” you yelled getting in your car, throwing the cookie on the passengers side as you sped home for the night.

“So if I was an employee…or something...” he wondered gazing at the stars, his thoughts frenzying around as his mind came up with the most brilliant idea. Cackling loudly “you’ve really outdone yourself this time me.” Laughing as he got on his bike, speeding towards his apartment.

---

“A new employee?” You mused, It was pretty hectic at work recently, one of your employee’s had quit and they finally found a replacement “I wonder what they’re like”. You asked yourself as you prepared a training checklist to go over, making sure to not make it too hard on the new guy- you heard it was his first job after all. “Hello! And welcome to the Anavrin family!” you say smiling with closed eyes, as you open them your mouth went agape. ‘What the….’ had the demon cat from the parking lot shrunk and gotten more youthful?

“Hi, I’m Yuji Itadori. You must be my brother Sukuna’s friend. He said to write your name down as someone who referred me to the job”

Chuckling nervously with the clipboard in hand you checked off the box for introductions “I’m (name) the grocery supervisor, and you would be working under me mostly.” Friends with Sukuna? Cutting your wrists open and watching them bleed sounded like the better option.

As the shift progressed Yuji showed you he was the complete opposite of his older brother. Always finishing his tasks, being kind and sweet. Everyone else loved him too, just on the first day. He was stocking milk and eggs the way you had shown him, one of the last tasks of the night. The crowd of customers thinned out as it got late and the store was closer to its closing time. You watched to make sure he was doing them correctly and if he needed any help. ‘This wasn’t so bad’ you thought, closing your eyes and leaning back.

“So how’s my little brother been (name)?”

Your eyes shot open at that voice God no please. “He’s been amazing, but you can’t just put my name as a referral without asking me-” There stood a tall Sukuna in a dress shirt with his sleeves rolled back, probably coming after finishing his day job. Majority of his tattoos were covered except the lines on his wrists that were exposed, making you gulp inaudibly. Suddenly feeling underdressed in your uniform’s polo shirt and measly work pants and sweater as you stared up at his glory.

“Sorry darling, I can’t do what?” he smirked. Mentally praising himself as his plan got into action. He couldn’t lie, (name) was interesting. Always yelling at him, cursing him and swearing that she would murder him if it was the purge. His usual charm not working gave him more of a challenge. Not to mention the way she was kind to younger brother made his heart swell a little.

The annoyance returned once you saw his shit eating grin “You can’t write my name down without asking me!”

As he opened his mouth to speak, the intercom went off, notifying everyone that the store was now closed and any remaining customers should bring their purchases to the front to pay for them.

“Yuji you can go home now, I’ll put this away and start heading out myself” you say massaging your temples with your fingers.

“See you soon (name).” Sukuna winked as he walked towards the exit, waving behind at you as he went outside to wait for his brother.

---

Unfortunately soon had never come… at least not for the last 3 weeks. Making you miss the tall man in more ways than one. Maybe he wasn't so bad now that you thought about it. The usual nightly teasing might make you seethe but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t laugh about it later in your car. Somehow his laid backness and mocking smile made your night light up a little. And the weed that you would “confiscate” really did help you unwind after a long shift.

“Maybe it was because he saw me in my uniform” you grumbled. That had to be it. You weren’t a sore look on the eyes. Right? But compared to him… you hissed as you felt your lower half heat up and tremble at the thought of the man. “Well it's only 11:00 pm… and my first class is at 9:30 am… and then I have work at the 4:00.” Debating your options…. ‘This is why I’m probably so grumpy all the time, I think too much’

“And probably need to get laid” you said aloud. Living alone did have its perks, no one could call you crazy for talking to yourself. Your friends always nagged you about your dry spell too, but one night stands weren’t really fun to you anymore. They were too shallow and you always found yourself feeling more frustrated by them than relaxed.

Quickly rummaging through your drawer, you found your lovely device and turned it on. The buzz filled the room as you fell on the bed and groaned. Your mind was wild as you thought dirty little things about the man. Your eyes rolled back and you felt little whines erupt from your throat as you imagined him on top of you with his signature smirk, choking you and teasing you, calling you terrible names and whispering dirty things in your ear.

But as quickly as you heated up, the device buzzed and suddenly stopped. Too hazy to think straight you tried turning it on and off again, soon realizing it was the battery that was dead. “For fucks sake” you threw the vibrator and it hit the wall and fell with a loud thud. Good. Pulling your covers up, scowling as you shut your eyes to sleep.

The next day only went further downhill. Your lecture was long and uneventful, you forgot there was a guest speaker instead of the usual prof, most of the class skipped anyways so you sat alone and pretended to be interested. And as you went home from campus, your car broke down on the way leaving you stranded in the heat as you waited for the tow truck. You really just wanted to buy some batteries and get some time to yourself before work. But life had another thing planned once you got home, you only left with half an hour before you had to leave for work. Which barely gave you enough time to shower, change into an excuse of an outfit, grab your uniform and run out the door. You heard a few whistles as you ran to the bus stop, most likely because of the skimpy outfit which was pretty much just a long t-shirt made into a dress with stockings. But this was not the time to be picking fights.

Work was more mundane as ever. Emptying, stocking, organizing and talking was all that seemed to happen. You frowned for the nth time in the day when you saw Yuji was not scheduled to work today and you remembered him mentioning that he was going somewhere with friends for the next two days. The boy could always turn a bad day around. He was a blessing to the department and the store as a whole. The long day finally came to an end and the weekend awaited. Stuffing your uniform in your bag as you walked out you saw a familiar motorbike and a man leaning against it getting ready to light a joint.

You didn’t think, all you could hear were your footsteps smacking against the pavement as you ran to the man. Blood rushed to your head as you slowed down, stopping barely an inch away from him. He was wearing jeans and a dress shirt and most important, that smirk.

“I didn’t realize you missed me this much darling, otherwise-” but he was cut short as your hands gripped his head and pulled him down to your lips for a not so innocent kiss. You had to admit, you liked the guy. But as he responded by deepening the kiss and sliding his wet tongue into your mouth to taste you, you realized you wanted more of him. And you found yourself in his apartment, stripped down with his face buried between your legs as you came down from your second orgasm. Him licking you clean and not missing a single bit.

“When” you panted “when is Yuuji-” but he shushed you by gagging his fingers deep in your throat.

“Not until Sunday at least” he smiled with a sinister look, your wetness coating his lips “we have the whole weekend darling” He had waited almost two months for this so he was definitely going to take his time and relish the next few days. How could he not? You were beautiful with a fiery personality, and that showed by the ways you disobeyed him on his bed to get a reaction. It seemed the roles were reversed, but this time there would be consequences. For you at least.

He was relentless but you were no pussy and would not back down either. Both of you with fire and heat taking over your bodies as you brought spark and life into the night, wanting to explore every bit of each other, not stopping until you noticed the sun starting to rise causing exhaustion to take over.

He had let you stay to sleep in, provided you with a clean shirt to wear and even made breakfast for you. Presented you with a “gourmet plate of eggo waffles with the finest Aunt Jemimah maple syrup” he said which earned him a giggle from your pretty lips.

“I can make pretty good waffles from scratch” you told him proudly, puffing out your chest in pride. But these were special to you, the whole moment was special.

“I intend on trying them,” he spoke after a moment. He thought it was out of character for him to ask for a relationship but he wanted to be with you more than just a few times. And wanted more of you in different ways. He wouldn’t get his brother involved if it was a casual fuck relationship that he wanted. Which reminded him he owed the brat 50 bucks.

“Maybe you should come over sometime” you smiled sweetly, blushing a bit.

“I’d like to see you more, take out and get to know you” he said, interrupting your invitation.

“I’d like that too.” you said smiling.

[yanderemommabean]

Could you do another yandere all smite purge one please?

“This is not a test “ Echoed through the empty streets as the final safety doors slammed shut, leaving poor souls who were too late in the open and in the vicious line of sight for those looking to hunt. “Your government is announcing the commencement of the lovesick purge. All participants must obey the rules given and indoctrinated-” the message drones on, turning to muffled booms as you rush through the alleyways and stomp through the puddles in your way.

God you hated this time of year. You were never prepared for it, never ready to handle the horrified screams and gunshots going off until morning rise. Praying never brought the sun up any faster but hey, it passed the time. This year you just wanted to hide away in your room like last time and blare music through your headphones, hiding in a cupboard or maybe that hallway closet. Last time it was kinda cozy.

You have to actually get home first, but why wouldn’t you? You knew your shortcuts, your danger zones, and how to fight dirty incase someone picked a fight. You’d like to think you could handle yourself.

You slide into another alley and catch your breath, watching as three people rush past and argue over where to go and what to do. You didn’t bother getting involved or helping, it was every man for himself and kindness could very well get you killed. You wait to see what happens to the three, and when nothing but silence follows, you try not to think about the outcome.

Cracking your neck, you take a breath and begin to run again, having just a few more blocks to “safety”. That being a building thats very easy to bust into and a door that could be broken by just a breath. But it was home, and home is where we subconsciously think no harm will come.

A large hand on your shoulder stops you dead in your tracks, yanking you back into the darkness of the alley. You begin to fight, kicking and biting while trying to escape the grip of your possible killer, your fists making little to no impact with every blow.

Well that’s embarrassing. You thought you were stronger than that.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. I’m not gonna hurt you” the voice pacifies, a deep chuckle following as the male forces your arms behind your back. You recognized that voice, hearing it speak on the news and on social media constantly.

Not in a heroic manner, not in some savior like way. This man was the tormentor everyone feared. This was the infamous villain All Smite. The man who can kill without remorse and destroy with a smile on his face, has you in his grip for god knows what.

“Silent now? I pegged you as a screamer” he joked, watching you roll your eyes at the innuendo. “I don’t exactly know what to say. I know begging won’t do shit” you admit with a nervous swallow, trying to avoid pissing him off and making the situation worse. Panicking wouldn’t help, no matter how good of an idea your brain made it seem.

The bulking blond laughs, and presses his head against the nape of your neck as he tightens your bonds. “This is why I love you. You’re so calm and calculating yet shy and timid. Cute and sexy. Just my type”. Wait, wait, just his type? Wasn’t he tying you up to like, throw you in a river or something? Break your bones and take your money? No! No there’s no way in hell this man is your yandere! You weren’t even given a warning letter!

Then again you suppose he’s a villain, why would he go by the rules? You not knowing gave him a larger advantage on catching you. You shiver feeling his large hands roam over you, as if checking for weapons and hidden items, but also a cheap way to cop a feel. “P-Pervert” you bit out, knowing that no matter what you said, what you did, you’d only lose and be his entertainment. He loved it when his victims begged and sobbed.

You wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

All Smite gently lifts you, cradling you as he begins walking down the street with bravado. Dude always has to put on a show. “You’re just going to kill me after this aren’t you? Hurt me, bruise me up, and slit my neck?” you asked bitterly, accepting your fate a bit faster than mentally healthy. Unless of course you were dead on the inside like the author.

All smite gave you an odd look. Brows furrowed in what you dare call concern, as if you were the one acting odd and dangerous. “I don’t think you fully grasp what’s occurring. You’re mine. Captured. My lover to be unless you escape the next purge. Bonded to me and me bonded to you”.

Yeah...ok you’re kidnapped. That should be sinking in, this shouldn’t be so casual, this shouldn't be so calm as it is. You just don't feel a fight in you. Almost like...like you wanted this to happen. Like you wanted to be caught and give up. You should be fighting more than this, tied up or not, but instead you’re empty and waiting for a fantasy that isn’t to come.

The villain gently brushes your hair away from your face, and sighs lovingly “You’ve been hurting for so long. You’ve been abandoned by those who are supposed to protect you, been cut by those who say they love you. You’re tired”.

“Shut up” you spit “You don’t know shit! You’re just playing mind games”.

He only gives a hum in response, opening the door to his hideout while you try to ignore the fact he hit some nerves. “I’ve watched you for a while, you know?” he plops you down on his couch, watching your eyes avert his gaze as he continues. “I’ve seen the hurt those people gave you. The condescending tones over your achievements, the scolding you when you finally come out of your shell, the audacity to belittle you when you’re doing your best and trying to survive and they only sit on their asses”.

You glare with tears in your eyes, spitting out bitterly “What’s your fucking point? What you-you wanna break me down and start from there?! See how deep those fucking scars go? Want me to tell you how they used to beat me-”

He hushes you softly, making you choke back a sob as he just holds your head in his large hands, wiping away your angry tears. “I want to be here for you. Help you heal yourself and show you that I can be the only person you need. A strong person like you deserves to be spoiled and worshipped. “ he kisses the top of your head, holding you as you shudder out more confused tears. Relief and grief, pain and soothing, it was so odd.

Could you really trust him? He’s probably just manipulating you for some sick game of his! “L-Like I can trust a single word from that snake like mouth” you meekly comment, fists clenching in their bindings as All Smite just continues to stroke your hair. “You can’t. Not yet. But I plan to prove that you can trust me, and plan to show you how devoted I am to you and our love”.

You squint in disbelief once again “I’m not in love with you”.

A wicked grin spreads on his face as he steals a quick kiss “You will be”

-Mommabean

[inhuman-obey-me]

God-Fearing Faith

Can also be read on AO3 here

Word Count: 5.7k

Description: In the Great Celestial War, torn between Lucifer and his Father, Simeon chose not to fight. That comes with its own consequences. There's a reason Simeon's greatest fear is his own Father.

[cw: body horror, abusive parent, PTSD]

This was, of course, always going to have been the outcome.

He had made his choice. As soon as he heard that Lucifer was planning on rebelling, he had made his choice. It was not an easy choice, or a simple one, but it was his choice nonetheless.

Alas, they say that neutrality is the side of the oppressor, but a tyrant never sees it that way.

"You did this to yourself," Michael reminds him disapprovingly.

Simeon stands at the center of the Council of Seraphs, awaiting a judgment that was already preordained before he ever stepped in the room. They will convict him, because there is no other option - their Father has demanded it. The trial is merely a formality.

He did not plead his case. There is no point in trying, after all. Father will not listen, and the other seraphs will never listen to another angel over God. Lucifer had just proven that, hadn't he? And maybe he had chosen wrong - maybe, all in all, he should have chosen Lucifer's side. Because it wasn't as though he hadn't been asked, and oh, how Simeon had longed to stay with his fellow seraph, his closest friend who was like a brother to him.

But between a brother and a father, he chose neither, praying quietly that it could end in peace.

Yet, who do you pray to for peace when God himself is party to war? What higher power could he have appealed to when the highest power in existence was one of the ones at fault?

Though he cannot bring himself to regret his decision, he feels the slightest twinge of regret for not supporting Lucifer more. At least, if Lucifer had won, he wouldn't have ended up here now, standing trial for not being loyal enough to their Father.

Simeon stares Michael in the face, and reminds him that he too loved and adored Lucifer not too long ago. That he still does, no matter how he votes in this trial. That, after everything, Lucifer is still precious to all of them. He knows it, and so does Simeon, and so do all the seraphs in this room. All of them still deeply love Lucifer. Even now. No matter what they say.

Michael's expression twists with anger. How dare Simeon say such things in front of their Father.

With a vengeful sneer, he reads the judgement firmly, steadily - "With unanimous votes from the Council of Seraphs, we do hereby declare you, Simeon, angel of devotion, guilty of desertion and treason. For your crimes, you are hereby sentenced to demotion - from Seraph, to Cherub, to Throne, to Dominion, to Virtue, to Power, to Principality, and finally, to Archangel. The ceremony shall be performed two moons from today, in this room, at the highest point of the sun. You may not appeal this decision. You are dismissed."

And so it has to be. This has always been, after all, the only possible ending.

--

Well before the ritual has even begun, Simeon feels himself burning. He repeats a prayer, day after day, for two long months - praising the glory of God, worshipping his light, acknowledging his greatness.

Begging for peace and mercy, again. Because that worked so well before, right?

But there is nothing else he can do when the burning begins. So he prays.

“Master, now dismiss your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation and for glory.”

--

When the day arrives, the chill of the chamber feels like the coldest he's ever been. It isn't, not really, but after two months of flickering heat burning on and off within him, it's strange to be left cold this way. But he relishes the cool air while he can, because he knows what's coming.

Uriel gives him an almost pitying look as he wraps the chains around his disgraced colleague. For a split second, it almost looks like he wants to say something - but the look is gone as quickly as it came, and he retreats quickly back to his place in the circle. And Simeon is left alone in the center, wrists and torso bound in ropes of thick gold chains.

He looks defiantly at his Father, positioned directly before him in the circle. No matter how he thought it over in these past months, still he did not regret his decision. So he would stand by it. The punishment is coming either way, so he might as well be proud of the choice he made.

His Father glares back.

You will regret defying me, his voice echoes in Simeon's mind.

With a wave of his hand, the ceremony begins.

The seraphs kneel, pouring holy water into an intricate pattern engraved in the ground, which glows with magic as the liquid flows down to the center of the circle. It feels cool against Simeon's bare feet, for the moment at least.

Michael steps forward to recite the prayer chant:

"Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, for you created all things, and by your will, they do exist. Purify this one from all unrighteousness."

The seraphs clasp their hands together in a circle, locking the magic into the ceremonial space, and repeat the chant back.

At once, his Father's heavenly fire strikes him, a pillar of light beaming down upon him and spreading through his body. All six wings of fire burst from his back against his will, stretching out their full length as if to try to escape from the blast. He feels his form contort; his brown hair shifts to a snakeskin halo of spikes; his face melts away to reveal the twisting golden rings of his true angelic form. It travels down to his feet, absorbed by the holy water, which burns at his soles as though he is standing on coals. The gold chains, too, absorb the searing heat of the fire, and as he strains against his bindings in pain, it only serves to etch the curves of the chains into his body.

His eyes, normally covered modestly by his wings, ignite with the fire as it spills through him, but still, his Father maintains his cruel gaze, and even without eyes, it is all Simeon sees.

The heavenly fire has engulfed his entire form now, and he gasps at the sudden weight as his wings turn to molten rock. They rip themselves from his back, crashing behind him with a reverberating thud against the marble floor, and his shoulder blades expand behind him, tearing themselves out of his back to create four new wings of feathers and steel. Under the chains, his arms become metallic themselves, as do his chest and neck. He tries to scream, but there is only fire in his lungs, and it travels through his throat, tearing through every part of his head. When he feels a mouth to close again, it is not one mouth, but four - the four faces of the cherubim.

After what feels like hours but was surely only a few minutes, the fire drains into the holy water beneath him. He gasps, finally able to breathe, as his many faces and wings draw themselves back into his body. Everything in him aches at the transformation.

His Father's cold eyes are still locked with his.

The seraphs pour fresh holy water to the ground and begin the chant again:

"Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, for you created all things, and by your will, they do exist. Purify this one from all unrighteousness."

It hurts no less the second time - the fire smiting him down, drawing back out the form that had just folded itself into him. His face tears into four; his wings again force their way from his back. His legs buckle beneath him, forcing him to the ground before burning away entirely. The metal of his hands breaks apart into floating shards, and thin wheels of gold extricate themselves from the gold plates of his waist. His vision blurs as hundreds of new eyes burst open upon the wheels, every single one trained on his Father's own unforgiving gaze as he watches the angel morph again. He feels the melting of the metal in his new wings, and feels with anguish the searing of the metal against the feathers of the same, as both shift shape to rounder wings that wrap the fire all around him.

Vaguely, Simeon can hear the echoing roar of his own lion's face as it is engulfed by the flames, followed by the eagle's caw, and the human scream. The ox face left behind stretches into a sphere of hollow rings of gold, and yet more eyes merge their way into his vision.

And then, in a flash, cold hits his skin, the fire retreating into the holy water as suddenly as it had come, pulling all his ophanic features back into his human-like form.

His father's contemptuous stare continues to bore into him.

Are you still so defiant now?

Is he? With the dizzying slew of transformations, Simeon can hardly think straight to even consider the question. His mind is still catching up to the vision of one thousand eyes bursting into existence across his body. His head is throbbing, and trying to cradle it in his hands only leads to the still-hot metal chains searing marks into his wrists.

What he does know for certain, however, is that his Father is far from done. Seraph, to Cherub, to Throne, to Dominion, to Virtue, to Power, to Principality, to Archangel. Step by step, stage by stage, the demotion ceremony would continue. There is still a long, long way to go.

As if reading his mind - and knowing his Father, he probably is - the ritual begins again.

Holy water. Hands clasping. The same prayer, again.

"Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, for you created all things, and by your will, they do exist. Purify this one from all unrighteousness."

The third time, he releases himself easily to the fire, giving in to it at once as it draws out his chariot-like Throne form, but it doesn't burn any less all the same. Wheels, rings, eyes - all dissolving to the flames, blasting apart and falling from his form.

For a moment, fire is all he is - no body, no mind, only soul and blazing heat. And then the pyre takes shape - brilliantly burning stars for arms, a halo of embers, sparks shifting constantly in his belly. His hands twist long and thin - one into a sword, the other to a sceptre, planetary orbs swirling into existence at opposite ends of each. A mass of dark matter settles as his face, and tiny galaxies piece themselves together beneath him for legs.

Simeon grasps helplessly at balance, trying to stabilize a form made of formlessness. He can feel himself spilling out of himself and coming back together, pulsing without edges, and all the while still - burning, burning, burning. Wet tears form but are immediately lost in the void of his shapelessness.

When he is abruptly returned again to human form, he is thankful just to feel himself contained within a definite body again, grateful to feel the warm wet streaks as the tears welling at the edges of his eyes roll down solid cheeks.

Yet, again, still trapped with the other definite - the harsh stare of his Father.

Any strength left in his legs leaves him, and he collapses to the ground, ignoring the pain as his wrists pull against the hot gold of the chains yet again. On his chest, too, the metal constricts against him as he frantically gasps for air.

It's almost a surprise to him that they give him this moment to recover - though, having been a seraph himself as recently as an hour ago, he knows it's purely out of strict adherence to the rules of the ritual, not out of any kind of sympathy for him.

When he pulls himself together enough to stand again, Michael motions to Uriel. Three levels down, which means he has fallen to the Middle Order already. Time to adjust the bindings accordingly.

"I'm sorry," Uriel whispers quietly to him, maintaining expressionlessness as he wraps new, thinner chains around him, reaching further along his arms and chest than before.

Bitterly,Simeon thinks to himself that there is no apologizing for this - it was voted upon, and it was unanimous. But he knows, too, that the other seraphs had no choice either. Their Father had demanded this verdict, and none of them could ignore a direct order from him.

Doing so was, after all, precisely why Simeon himself was in this situation now.

So without breaking eye contact with their Father, he responds simply, "Don't be. Or you'll be next."

His former peer completes the rest of his work in silence, and as soon as he resumes his place in the circle, the ritual begins again.

"Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, for you created all things, and by your will, they do exist. Purify this one from all unrighteousness."

Going from Dominion to Virtue is an almost welcome reprieve, relative to the earlier transformations. Fire strikes him down again, but Simeon braces himself this time for the feeling of nothingness as the edges of himself fall away, galaxies and empty space bursting from inside him. A million stars explode into existence along his body, then explode again out of it, the black holes left behind dancing with the heavenly flames coursing through him.

Gradually, the fire slows and hardens. The light of embers flickers through cracks in molten rock left behind along his core. His wrists, too, tremble with new mass as crags form beneath the chains, connected to his shoulders only by stormy flashes of lightning. Dark clouds fill his form like billowing smoke, and he almost feels like he will choke on his own existence. Blinding rings of light wrap themselves along his limbs like snakes. He is at once heavy and weightless, dark and light, chained and unmoored.

In this confusing contradiction of his newest form of existence, Simeon is almost glad for the holy fire and icy glare of his Father. He clings to them as his anchor, however painful of one to hold onto, lest his mind drift too far away and leave him entirely. Or is it better to lose himself by letting go, than to focus on the pain? He isn't sure, but he's not certain that he will come back to himself if he doesn't hold on. So he clings to the thread of stability he has, embracing the burning as best he can.

It makes it all the more jarring when the heavenly flames abruptly retreat again, leaving him solid and cold, everything around him a blur except his Father. The sudden chill sends an involuntary shiver through him, echoed by rattling chains reverberating through the chamber.

He shuts his eyes, tries to reorient himself. Deep breaths. Halfway through now. Just three more, and it will be done. His fall from grace will be complete, and he'll be free. Or at least, as free as the angels ever are, given their roles as God's warriors and messengers. But he'll be out of this ceremony, freed of these chains. And...then what? A low-level grunt worker, to be bossed around by all his former equals in this room?

Maybe that's a good thing. At least, that's what he tries to tell himself. True, a demotion is a demotion, and he'll have less power available to him, less respect from the other angels. Less freedom to do as he pleases. But in truth, can he say he's ever had that much freedom? Isn't that why he's here now? Because he never really had that freedom in the first place - just the space to do the things his Father approved of, which had just happened to be the same things he'd wanted to do, until now. And at least, once his full demotion is complete, perhaps the freedom he loses in the work he does will be a worthwhile exchange for being freed of the pressures of being a seraph, from being always close to their Father and his strict command.

That's what he thinks, at least, until he opens his eyes again and sees his Father still staring down at him.

There is no escape from me, his Father's voice taunts in response, and Simeon isn't quite sure whether the voice in his head is actually sent by his Father or just created from his own fear.

Regardless, another half of the ceremony is still to come, and so it must continue.

"Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, for you created all things, and by your will, they do exist. Purify this one from all unrighteousness."

Heavenly fire comes down, and his insides ignite once more. His legs stretch and split apart into glowing rings; his arms turn stormy again. His chest hardens back to molten rock, tightening against his attempts to breathe before breaking apart, leaving trails of flame and lava dripping down through the rings of light below. The dark clouds throughout his form catch fire as well and burn away to steam and smoke.

His shape changes less drastically now as his rank falls lower and lower, yet the heavenly fire lingers longer this time. The transformation aches through him, new pieces stretching and pulling themselves into place.

Slowly, thin metal plates emerge through the fire and settle as his new face, locking his expression to neutrality - as if mocking the neutrality he'd tried to take in the war. More sheets of steel fold themselves together into layers of a round shield for a torso. A ring of eyes opens along the outer border of the shield, confusing his vision again, along with six larger eyes in a circular pattern around the center. It takes his mind a moment to catch up to processing all of them, trying to orient to so many new perspectives all turned to different directions. Thorns prick all over as two long rose stems grow from his chest, wrapping themselves around his neck, and another eye opens at the center of each flower. Sharp golden wings extricate themselves from his back, and a harsh golden halo slices in an arc behind his head.

Simeon clenches his fists as the flames travel through him, clinging to his insides and pulling his new form gradually, painfully back in. Unlike the previous times, it holds onto him on its way down to the holy water this time. He feels every inch of his wings scraping against his returning flesh as they drag themselves back inside his body, as with the rest of the form.

It's strange - angel transformations are usually instant. They aren't meant to be this slow.

That's when it sinks in that this isn't just rote punishment for law's sake - it is spite. He lifts his gaze again to see that his Father's cold expression has not changed at all, but there is wrath in those eyes. He can feel fury emanating from the light that always surrounds him.

Simeon has never heard of their Father drawing out a punishment for vengeance's sake before. This ceremony, the entire demotion process, was always just a ritual that was part of a judgment given for the sake of upholding a realm of law and obedience. But then, their Father had also never personally weighed in on a trial to tell the seraphs what way to vote until this, either. And there is no mistaking the anger coming from him now.

All for choosing neutrality...?

No, that's not it. It's not for choosing neutrality; it's for not choosing against Lucifer. The realization dawns on him - this isn't about him, never was about him or his refusal to fight. It is about Lucifer. It is about their Father's most beloved angel until the war, rebelling against him. It is about the fact that the war that ensued was the first time any of the angels had ever really questioned their Father's rule. It is about reminding everyone in this room of his power as the unmistakable, undeniable ruler of the Celestial Realm.

This is not about punishing Simeon. It is about punishing Lucifer.

And for the first time since his trial began, Simeon is truly, deeply afraid. He had known that the punishment for his refusal to fight would be intense and painful, but he had prepared himself for that when he made his decision in the first place. But to be a proxy for punishment against Lucifer for rebelling, now that the Morning Star himself was out of reach, fallen to the Devildom?

But the realization has come far too late, and there are two more rounds of this still to go.

New holy water flows down to his feet, and the seraphs begin the chant again.

"Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, for you created all things, and by your will, they do exist. Purify this one from all unrighteousness."

The heavenly fire burns hotter this time than any of the ones before, and in the fog of pain, the knowledge that the last one will only be worse briefly flits across his mind. But his thoughts are quickly pulled away by what is now a slow, excruciating transformation back into the form that had just left him moments ago.

His wings cut their way out of his back again like jagged knives, hot from the blazing heat pushing them from his body. They quickly melt away as they exit him, dripping molten streaks of metal down his back, as do the sheets of steel making up his shield-like frame. The liquid metal snakes its way down him, hardening back into rough shards cutting against his feet as they reach the holy water below. His neck feels choked with prickling flames as the blaze travels up the thorny stems of the roses growing from his chest, framing his face with fire.

The chains binding him stretch and grow, twisting themselves up his arms and wrapping his torso in a constricting suit of armor that feels more like it's meant to squeeze the life out of him than protect him. Each ring burns itself against his newly reforming skin beneath, merging into his flesh - it is not actually armor, after all, but a part of his own body. The metal continues threading its way up him, wrapping his neck, his face, his hair, until it grows past him into a twisting, tulip-shaped crown atop his head. From the flames at his core, jewels start pushing their way out of him, each one piercing him on its way out, and they spin together into a blinding orb in front of him. From his fingertips, thin needles of yet more metal prick as they join the gems, sending a reverberation of eerie music through the hall as they merge to form a long, thin scepter.

Simeon can feel his mouth being pried open by the flames, or perhaps it is being burned away entirely - in the shifting uncertainty of transformation, he's not quite sure which. Against his will, his voice joins the echoing notes of the scepter, until the sounds accumulate and stretch into haunting shriek.

And then, all at once, the flames leave him, the form of Principality leaves him, the scepter and the armor and everything leave him - and he is left standing, alone, silent, cold, enchained, mouth still agape with the memory of the sounds that had just moments before been wrenched from his throat.

He gasps for air, shuts his eyes as he readjust his vision from the now-gone blinding light of the jeweled scepter. Phantom pinpricks still tingle at his stomach, and for a moment, he almost thinks he's going to vomit. Still, he hangs on to the barest shred of dignity and composure until the feeling passes, and waits for the pain of everything to subside.

When he opens his eyes again, he meets the gaze of his Father in almost a plea. Stop this. Please. I am not Lucifer. Lucifer is gone.

But if his Father can hear the begging of his thoughts, as he seemed to hear him earlier, he doesn't show it. He doesn't respond at all, merely staring Simeon down with the same ice cold stare he's held this entire time. And the ceremony continues.

Michael waves to Uriel, who steps forth to replace the chains again. Simeon is down to the Lower Order now, the last and lowest ranks of angels. Redundant as it feels to replace his bindings, given all the transformations that have already happened, the ritual demands it.

Uriel doesn't meet his eyes this time - despite his remorse, he keeps in mind Simeon's earlier words of warning. But he can't quite bring himself to do this with pride, either. Just earlier that day, they had still been colleagues and equals. It's a cold reminder that no matter how strict or obedient any of them are, their Father is the ultimate in charge, and they are all only one displeasure away from the same fate. Likewise, Simeon avoids eye contact, neither ashamed nor proud of his current state.

The chains are even more slender now, almost elegant in the way they snake around his wrists. As a seraph, he could have broken these new chains easily, but now as a principality, they're more than enough to hold him. Deep inside, he can still feel the great well of power within him, but as if a glass cloche sits in the way, he knows instinctively that he can't summon any of that strength anymore. He will never be able to again.

Somewhere, just as deep inside, he starts to question whether he even wants to - to access the strength given him by the one now putting him through all of this.

He pushes the feeling far away though. He should be grateful that, following the war, he wasn't equally cast out of the Celestial Realm, shouldn't he? Those who had fallen, they were informed, had met a far worse fate. Lucifer and his brothers flit across his mind; though he wasn't close with all of them, he wonders if they are okay. Lucifer, at least, proud and full of conviction, surely must have made it out with his head held high as ever, right? What fate had befallen him worse than this, that Simeon was experiencing now...?

When Uriel finishes and retreats back to his place, Simeon hangs his head down, giving up on his silent begging to his Father. It's clear at this point that there is no mercy coming. Their father does not forgive; he condemns.

Until the war, Simeon had really believed that his condemnations were right and just.

But are they, after all? Can he truly believe it anymore? He had understood Lucifer well enough, but...he had really believed that trusting their Father was the right way to go. That Lucifer's rebellion was wrong. That their Father was, always, in all cases, correct, and that there was a reason for everything he did.

The cool brush of holy water at his feet pulls him back from his dark thoughts.

"Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, for you created all things, and by your will, they do exist. Purify this one from all unrighteousness."

Even the heavenly fire seems to come slower, now on this final time. His Father's eyes, though still coldly distant and unreadable, almost seem to shine with the voraciousness of his vengeance.

The flames lick at his face like hounds hungry for a meal.

In the pain, time seems to slow to a stop.

And then it does. It stops. Everything stops. He doesn't feel the chain metal armor searing itself back into his skin, or the gems pulling themselves through his body. Everything falls away; all becomes just a bright, white brilliance. Simeon feels weightless.

Is this it? Has his Father abandoned the ceremony after all? Is this...

No, a booming inner voice answers him. You won't die. That's too soft for an angel like you.

"Father?" he calls back silently. His eyes would have widened, if he'd had feeling left of them to widen. So it was true, his Father could hear every one of his thoughts.

And yet, he had ignored Simeon's begging for this to stop.

I told you that you would regret defying me.

"Father, I-I'm sorry. I thought - Lucifer is so precious to us. He was acting on what he believed in. I know that he was wrong, but -"

Yes, he was. And you, Simeon. You are an angel, one of my children, my creations. And yet you dared defy me. Pathetic.

He almost wishes he could summon the courage to defy his Father again, but he is too exhausted from round after round of transformation. Instead, he feels only sorrow. For Lucifer. For the other angels that fell. For himself.

You still don't understand your lesson? Troublesome child, Lucifer wouldn't listen either. I've removed him. Miserable wretch as you are, you will learn. You ought to be more grateful I chose not to eject you too.

Darkness floods his blinded vision, and Simeon sees himself in his mind's eye. His reflection smiles sweetly at him, before its eyes widen. Its mouth twists into a scream, expression more pained even than the shrieks pulled from him in his last transformation, but rather than sound coming out, shadows spill inwards, consuming him.

As if in answer, Simeon's own soul suddenly twists equally in pain, choking on a flood of umbra enveloping him from inside, until he's unsure if the image before him is a reflection or just him seeing himself from the outside. The dusty taste of ash and soot covers his tongue, as a fire unlike the clean holy flames chokes him from within - the smoke of hellfire.

Feathers, light and dark both, explode in bursts through his body. Flurries of new wings extrude themselves from his back, pulling patchwork marble patterns in jagged edges, fighting with each other for dominance as they clash in their growth. He feels his face split into two, one side drawing the hoop of a thin metal crown behind him, while a thin horn twists out from the other and loops back over to pierce his cheek. Scattered across his hands, fingers stretch into sharp, wicked claws, while his palms turn to pure light.

Though this twisted form is removed from his actual, physical body, the heavenly fire burns harshly against him still, and harsher yet upon his new demon-like features, incinerating them away almost as quickly as they emerge from his body. His angelic elements fare hardly better, as the hellfire within him eats away at them.

And all the while, his Father's voice hums tauntingly in his mind.

Feeble excuse for an angel, you are blessed to still hold my power. Do not forget who made you. I created you, gifted you with my divine power, and I can wipe you from this existence. And it will make not a shred of difference, for I shall make another, one more obedient, who understands his place...unless, my child, you submit now. Surrender yourself back to my command, and I shan't destroy you completely. Or this will be the last of your miserable, wretched life.

Amidst the pain, the infinity of nonexistence blankets despair upon his mind in threat, an incomprehensible emptiness.

It's too much. He is not able - was not created to be able - to endure all of this agony. An infinite void, heavenly smiting, darkness corrupting, all at once - his whole soul feels on the verge of collapse.

"I swear, Father!" Simeon cries. "Please, anything! Anything you ask, I'll obey! Forgive me, please...!"

It feels like another eternity before his Father murmurs his satisfaction, letting the frozen moment fall away back to the reality of the seraph council's chamber.

The rest of the transformation ritual proceeds as before, though after the jumbled, aching blending of transforming into both angel and demon at once, turning to an Archangel feels as though it passes quickly by comparison. When the last of the fire extinguishes upon the holy water at his feet, and the chains release themselves to mark the end of the ceremony, he collapses to the ground, succumbing at last to the blissful release of unconsciousness.

--

For a long time after his demotion ceremony, Simeon cannot sleep through the night. He wakes at random times, gasping for air, from dreams of being on fire again. A few times, when he wakes, he finds his wings actually alight, as though they remember their seraph form when they used to be made of flame, and he screams at the half-asleep memory of how those wings turned to rock and tore themselves from his body. Other times, he is wrought from his rest by a phantom feeling of ash in his throat, choking on the taste of hellfire.

He wonders if these dreams are being sent to him by his Father, or by his own mind.

Which would be worse?

Night after night, he prays desperately for release, exhausted.

“Master, now dismiss your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation and for glory.”

He never receives any answer.

It is years before he makes it through a night without waking, and many years more before he manages a peaceful, dreamless night. It is centuries more before those nights outnumber the dreams of flames.

All the while, he hears the whispers and snickering of older angels as he passes through the Celestial Realm halls now, particularly from Middle Order angels smugly delighting in now outranking a former seraph. Gossip of his restless nights spreads between them, rumors flying around of the demonic screams that come from his room when all should be asleep.

Some of them wonder if perhaps he's not an angel at all anymore. Others sneer that maybe he shouldn't be.

Maybe they're right. Maybe he shouldn't be.

He doesn't enter his angel form very often anymore. He still remembers the feeling of corrupting, of horn instead of halo.

Maybe he's not fit to be an angel.

He prays again.

[draconicfaenerd]

Headcanons (The Brothers + Barbatos): What if MC actually met the demons by summoning them via demonic ritual in their bedroom

This is an ask from @otomeman : I thought this was a particularly creative idea, and I hope that I was able to do it justice here!

Lucifer:

So you had just returned from this SUPER fucking obnoxious, invasive church service from the sketchy parish that you had always tried to avoid like the plague

Maybe you went out of sheer curiosity? Maybe your religious obnoxious family made you go? Maybe you lost a bet playing Uno with your fraternity/sorority mates at 2:27am on a Tuesday night in the parking lot of a Taco Bell? Who knows!

Whatever the reason, the message was atrocious and despicable; so much so that you were fucking pissed and ready to fight God

And what better way to do that than to summon Lucifer himself?

Of course, none of this was actually real, and so you weren’t expecting it to actually work

Until it did

Lucifer was a very busy demon, and as such, he did not take kindly to being randomly summoned by some insignificant human; he wanted to smite you

Of course, he calmed down quite a bit once you explained your reasoning to him; in fact, he was once so angry at God that he birthed an entire Avatar of Sin

You weren’t sure that you completely understood what he was talking about, but once he got the stick out of his ass, the two of you seemed to get along quite well

Perhaps this summoning did serve quite the useful purpose indeed: he would be making sure to review your file immediately before recommending you to Lord Diavolo for his Highness’s exchange program

Mammon:

So; you were a pretty skilled witch/sorcerer yourself

You were ready to summon your first real demon and get a pact

You heard from other members of the magical community that Mammon, while powerful, was a rather easy demon to manipulate/control (as long as his scary older brother didn’t interfere) due to his excessive tendencies to get himself into debt

So, you summoned him

He was pretty whiny, but… he was also kinda adorable too

When you saw the sad look on his face, you decided to take just a little bit of mercy on him (but you still weren’t gonna let him out of the summoning circle yet and let him rob you)

Turns out, he’s a pretty cool guy once you get past his initial bluster

Leviathan:

Leviathan, the great demon of the sea; you summoned the fearsome beast to gain favor with him since you were about to go out to sea for an extended amount of time

You were definitely not expecting the purple-haired demon that showed up in your room

As you expected, he was irritated upon being summoned… but not for the reasons you had expected

He was into anime? Cool, so were you

“This is like in TSL, when Henry summoned the Lord of Shadows from another realm!!!!”

He was the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy? Wait, this wasn’t the setup of demons that you’d learned about!

You ended up talking about the Devildom, and then you ended up talking about your families, fandoms, and binging some anime

Suffice to say, you had earned Leviathan‘s favor, as well as a new friendship!

Satan:

Ah, yes… Satan, the most famous of demons, the Devil himself… or at least that was what you previously were taught. Seriously, why did you decide to go to these lengths for a stupid joke with your friends about summoning Satan himself?

You didn’t think it would actually work, but… Surprise, motherfucker!

He got super pissed that you thought he was the original Fallen Angel; just because he was created from Lucifer didn’t mean that everyone should put him in that bastard’s shadow!

Frankly, you were confused by the whole “giving birth” thing, so you stopped asking and kinda nodded along with him

Satan finally chilled the fuck out when your cat walked into the room; apparently the fearsome demon was a feline lover?

Well, at least now you had an idea why everyone said that cats ended up in Hell

Asmodeus:

You knew the legends, you had studied the lore; You summoned Asmodeus, the Ruler of the Nine Hells in order to help you deal with a certain problem of yours

You expected the ancient demon to try to trick you so it could escape; you had even expected it to try and charm you with its magic

What you didn’t expect was the flirtatious mess that popped out, bitching about how you needed to be gentler in summoning him so that his precious hair and nails weren’t messed up

Wait- so Asmodeus wasn’t the King of the Demons? Some other demon was?

You supposed you could leave him with you for a bit so he could teach you about the Demon Realm… the Devildom?

Hanging around him… if you weren’t careful, you would have to ask him to help you deal with a certain other problem of yours wink wink

Beelzebub:

You had to make a huge feast for some reason or another, so you decided to invoke the assistance of the Demon of Gluttony, taking care to make sure you didn’t get eaten

Food? As long as he could have some, Beelzebub was more than willing to help you out

You just had to make sure he didn’t eat it all before you served it

You prepared food alongside him and were pleasantly surprised at how… nice… this demon seemed to be

He asked you to summon him again if you wanted to do this with him again sometime

And that’s how you befriended Beelzebub

Belphegor:

You had read a reference to this demon somewhere on Reddit and couldn’t believe some of the things written about him

So you were just going to find out some stuff for yourself

You decided to summon him by following some instructions from Reddit

When have those ever worked, anyways?

Well, apparently they do now

This demon was very angry about being woken from his nap

He demanded to know what you were doing, so you told him

“This is why I hate humans”

Yeah, he’d definitely kill you if you’d let him out of the summoning circle

Oh well, at least now he’s not gonna trick you into letting him out when you find him in the attic

(Have fun explaining that one to Lucifer later, once you’re in the Devildom)

BONUS

Barbatos:

You’d finished reading the Key of Solomon, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to summon a real demon

So you looked around a bit for materials, and decided you’d try to summon Barbatos

Not that you actually expected it to work, but it might be an entertaining use of time

Needless to say, you were pretty shocked when it did

Oh dear GOD, that scary smile: ABORT ABORT ABORT ABORT-

Once he moved past his initial irritation and you explained what you had done, he was actually pretty impressed

You seemed to have no magical experience to speak of, yet you managed to summon a demon as powerful as himself

Perhaps you were a worthy candidate for his Lord’s upcoming exchange program?

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #160

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re making... wait a minute! Isn’t King Arthur supposed to be a girl?

Anyways, this faker is a Watcher Paladin and Monster Slayer Ranger to hunt down beasts wherever they may hide, as well as a Zealot Barbarian for his own Mana Burst skill and even bigger smites.

Check out his (god, it feels wrong using that pronoun) build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Next up: He might not be allowed at pride, but I’m not waiting a month to do another build.

Race and Background

Arthur may be from a different reality, but he’s still a Human, and since we need those ability scores more than any feats, this gives him a +1 to all abilities. You’re a Pendragon, so you’re a lil bit basic by FGO standards.

He’s also a Knight, getting proficiency in History and Persuasion.

Ability Scores

Unfortunately your mana burst can’t do all the work, so make your Strength as high as possible to swing your sword sword. After that is Charisma; you have a whole skill named after it, and I mean have you heard his White Day voice lines? Dude’s sexy. If you want to set off on an interplanar hunting trip, Wisdom is also a must. Your Dexterity also has to be pretty good, mostly for multiclassing, but also because sometimes you fight in a tuxedo. Sadly, this means your Constitution isn’t as high as we’d like, and you’ll have to dump Intelligence. I honestly don’t know how smart Arthur’s supposed to be, but we’re juggling a lot of balls here. The only things we could dump are intelligence and constitution, and he definitely doesn’t have a negative con modifier. If you’re really worked up about this one, just remember all his historical knowledge comes from another dimension, so it probably isn’t that useful in this one.

Class Levels

1. Paladin 1: Starting off as a paladin gives you proficiency with Wisdom and Charisma saves, as well as proficiency with Religion and Athletics. You are still a Pendragon, and I’m pretty sure a holy grail fits into your backstory somewhere.

You also get a Divine Sense to help you hunt down extraplanar beasts, and you can use your Lay on Hands as an action to heal a creature you touch as an action, healing up to five times your paladin level per long rest.

2. Paladin 2: Second level paladins get their Fighting Style, and Great Weapon Fighting makes your attacks more consistent by re-rolling damage dice that land on 1s and 2s. This adds up, especially when you start factoring Divine Smites. Yes you too can use up spell slots to deal extra radiant damage to your Excalibur’s attacks!

Speaking of, you can use Spells, preparing and casting them with your Charisma. We’ll go into more detail about which ones to pick when we grab a subclass next level.

3. Paladin 3: Upon taking your sacred oath, you become a Watcher, this plane’s bulwark against extraplanar threats. (I mean, CotTT hangs out in his own demiplane, Tiamat spends most her time in Imaginary Number Space, and Kiara’s from the moon... most of the beasts we’ve seen so far count.)

Once per short rest, you can Channel Divinity in one of two ways. You can use your Watcher’s Will to give your allies advantage on Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma saves. You can also Abjure the Extraplanar, turning extraplanar creatures who fail their wisdom save, running away for a minute or until it takes damage.

You also get your freebie spells, Alarm and Detect Magic. The former will prevent your camp from getting ambushed, while the latter will be very useful to track down that beast you’re tailing.

Once you find them, use Compelled Duel to keep them in sword range, or Protection from Evil and Good to even the odds if they go on the offensive. Also, smites. Smites are good.

4. Paladin 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to round up your Constitution and Charisma for stronger saves and more health.

5. Paladin 5: Fifth level paladins get an Extra Attack each attack action, making Excalibur’s victory a bit more promised.

You also get 2nd level spells, like the freebies Moonbeam and See Invisibility. Beasts do come with the tendency to transform for the climactic battle... I wonder if forcing them back into their less intimidating forms will actually weaken them?

Beyond the free spells, you can use more Smites, as well as Magic Weapon to make Excalibur a truly legendary weapon, adding +1 to its attack and damage rolls.

6. Barbarian 1: Changing planes to barbarian gives you your Mana Burst in the form of Rage, giving you several benefits: you get advantage on strength saves and checks, as well as bonus damage on melee attacks, and you resist physical damage. The downsides are; you can’t cast or concentrate on spells, the rage only lasts 1 minute, as long as you take or deal damage each round Also, you can’t use heavy armor. Hope you like a breastplate, because that’s the most you can hold onto here.

You also unlock your tuxedo, thanks to your Unarmored Defense, giving you a minimum AC based on your dexterity and constitution. I never said it would be good, but it’s better than nothing.

7. Ranger 1: Switching over quickly now, first level rangers get a free skill proficiency! Grab Survival to track your quarries, then use Canny to double survival’s proficiency bonus so you can track them beyond planar boundaries.

You also gain a Favored Enemy, a kind of foe that you have advantage on checks to track or recall lore about. Most beasts probably qualify as Aberrations in D&D, so go with that one.

8. Ranger 2: Second level rangers get another Fighting Style. Fighting in a tuxedo is pretty unrealistic, so let’s double down on the armor with Protection, giving you +1 to your AC in any kind of protection.

You also get another set of Spells that use your Wisdom. Thankfully Hunter’s Mark and Zephyr Strike don’t really care about your modifier. The former adds extra damage to every attack and makes tracking even easier than it already is. The latter only adds damage to a single attack, but it makes you able to ignore attacks of opportunity and move faster the one turn you deal extra damage. DW might not have given you a wind-based spiritron dress, but you can still make them work for you.

9. Ranger 3: Third level rangers get Primeval Awareness, spending a spell slot to sense various kinds of extraplanar and otherworldly creatures around you to make tracking down beast four a little easier.

Once you find it, you can use your skills as a Monster Slayer to take it down. Your Monster Slayer Magic gives you Protection from Evil and Good as a freebie, and you also gain two actual features! Hunter’s Sense is an action to determine a creature’s weaknesses and strengths. You can use this a number of times per long rest equal to your wisdom modifier.

You can also turn one creature at a time into your Slayer’s Prey, spending a bonus action to deal an extra bit of damage once per turn with your weapon attacks. It sticks to that creature until you finish a short rest.

Finally for your normal spell this level grab Searing Smite. It’s a smite, it sears.

10. Ranger 4: Fourth level rangers get another ASI, so bring your Strength up for stronger sword swings. Wielding the breath of a planet doesn’t mean anything if you can’t hit people with it.

11. Paladin 6: Your Aura of Protection gives you and allies within 10 feet of you a bonus to all your saving throws equal to your charisma modifier. Honestly this is super useful, you might want to think about doing this earlier. Or don’t, I’m not a cop.

12. Barbarian 2: Second level barbarians can make Reckless Attacks, giving you advantage on attacks for a turn in exchange for your enemies having advantage on attacks against you for the round. The smart thing to do is to smite them out of existence before they get the chance.

You also get Danger Sense, giving you advantage on dexterity saves if you can see them coming. You probably wouldn’t last long against Beast 1 if you weren’t able to survive a fireball.

13. Barbarian 3: Third level barbarians get their path, and as a Zealot you can put the fear of god into anything you fight. Your Divine Fury deals 1d6+1 extra radiant damage with each attack while raging, and as a Warrior of the Gods, you can be revived with magic without needing material components.

You also get Primal Knowledge to figure out an Animal Handling proficiency. Riding skill, checked off the list.

14. Paladin 7: Seventh level Watchers exude the Aura of the Sentinel, adding your proficiency bonus to your initiative, as well as the initiative of any creature within 10′ of you. With most beasts, attacking slowly means you won’t be attacking at all.

15. Paladin 8: Use this ASI to bump up your charisma for stronger spells and better saves. I’m still not entirely sure how we’re building Kiara yet, but rest assured those saves will be necessary.

16. Ranger 5: Fifth level rangers get an extra attack, but that doesn’t stack with the one you already have, sorry.

It’s not all bad news, though! You also get Zone of Truth from your Slayer magic, and Enhance Ability as your usual spell. The former forces humanoids to tell the truth if they fail a charisma save, while the latter just makes whoever you cast it on better in one kind of ability check for the duration, giving them advantage for the duration.

17. Ranger 6: If a Beast isn’t an aberration, it’s probably a Monstrosity, so grab that as your second Favored Enemy. You also get another Deft Explorer perk, Roving, which gives you an extra 5′ of movement speed, as well as a climbing and swimming speed. Since you’re never getting a summer version, it’s important that you can keep up with your female counterpart as-is.

18. Paladin 9: Ninth level paladins get third level spells; Counterspell and Nondetection both work to put a damper into beasts’ plans, either shutting down their super form or making it harder for them to spy on you. You also get more smites, Dispel Magic to force them out of their super mode later, or Spirit Shroud for more damage. more damage is good.

19. Paladin 10: At tenth level, you and your allies can’t be frightened because you’ve got an Aura of Courage! It’s level nineteen so that’s not super useful, but it’s still one less thing to worry about.

20. Paladin 11: Your capstone level gives you an Improved Divine Smite, adding a bit of that radiant goodness to all your melee attacks, regardless of what spell slots you do or don’t spend on them.

Pros:

Arthur has a big sword, and he knows how to use it, dealing some heavy damage with each swing. While raging and preying, he deals 6d6+4d8+10 damage each round (assuming both attacks hit), all boosted by great weapon master, and that’s before any kind of smites get included.

Despite your low dexterity score, you’re still pretty quick when you need to be. You’ve got a faster walking speed than most people, your dexterity save is solid thanks to your aura and danger sense, and you’ve got another aura boosting your initiative! Basically you have a high dexterity in everything except ability checks and AC, with almost no direct investment needed!

Mixing your primeval awareness with your divine senses means you are a fine-tuned tracker when it comes to locating creatures from another plane. Just make sure you don’t mix up your quarry with MHX, I doubt she’d be happy to see you.

Cons:

While medium armor does a solid enough job of protecting you, your HP is pretty low for a front line fighter, with barely over 120 HP. You’re here for a good time, not a long time.

As always, mixing spells and rage is pretty bad, forcing you to choose one or the other. That’s especially painful because it means you can’t use your neat gish spells to add effects if you want to deal more damage. Kind of like your smites, when I think about it.

Your paladin, barbarian, and ranger features all want use of your bonus action, meaning it will take a while for you to get up to full speed in a fight anyway. I’d definitely rage first, it’d help with the squishiness.

[marmosa]

hello 💕 i've just gone through your entire fred weasley and i absolutely love your writing and especially your dialogues, they feel v authentic and real xx i read that you have requests open so i'll leave you with an idea from my v detailed v self indulgent daydream cinematic universe starring fred weasley— post war (say a couple of years after) fred is the owner and manager of the hogsmead branch of the joke shop and sneaks into hogwarts to meet his fiancé, newly hired transfiguration (1/2)

thank you so much for the kind words and reading all my writing, i can’t begin to describe how much that means to me! i love the idea of fred sneaking into the castle to see his significant other, it’s so cute, i had to run a lap around my room just thinking about it. also in this house fred weasley never d worded, if you think he did, no he didn’t. also also, it got kinda sad at the end and i’m sorry, i didn’t mean for that to happen i- but anyways, hope you like it and thank you again for the compliment <3

word count: 1.6k

***

“Hey!”

Tink!

“Hey!”

Tink!

[y/n] looked up from the stack of papers arrayed on her desk and glanced around her study for the source of the noise, absolutely bewildered at who would possibly be bothering her at this hour. She prayed it wasn’t a student messing around with her, for she may have been a relatively new teacher but she wasn’t afraid to stand her ground against misbehaving kids.

The sound came again and this time she saw who it was her face lighting up before falling down as she scurried over to the window, unlatching the glass and pushing it open to find her fiancé sitting all high and mighty on his broom like this was a normal everyday occurrence.

“Fred Weasley! What in God’s name are you doing outside of my window? Why are you throwing stones at glass? Do you have any idea how high up I am?” She hissed, reaching for him, despite knowing full well he could only enter the room on his own accord.

He flew closer to the window and balanced himself on the ledge before grabbing her hand and hopping down onto the floor a giddy smile plastered on his lips, “I’m aware how high up this is, lest you forget I was one of the best Gryffindor beaters this school has ever seen.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You do realize you could just come in through the front doors right? McGonagall isn’t going to smite you down for visiting your fiancée,” she deadpanned, latching the window back shut.

“Whatever? If I recall correctly, me being on the quidditch team all those years back had you absolutely smitten, or am I wrong,” he retorted smugly, completely brushing past her statement about walking through the front doors.

[y/n]’s face fell into one of embarrassment as she pushed past him back to her desk, not wanting to fuel his ego any more than she usually did, “Even so, you still can’t be sneaking onto campus. Especially during school hours, you know how it is, I would rather you be turned away at the door than get escorted out by the collar of your robes.”

“But it’s always school hours! Honestly [y/l/n], your new position has really given you a stick up the arse,” He grumbled, leaning back against one of the desks across from hers.

“[y/l/n]?” She repeated, offense written all over her face. Despite not taking it to heart she decided to mess with him a bit for being so stubborn.

Fred’s face fell and he was quick to rush over and apologize, “You know that’s not what I meant! Technically you’re not a Weasley anyway until the paperwork is done legally, so I’m not wrong.”

“I’m telling Molly you said that and she’s going to ground you just like she did 6th year when you got caught nicking something from Filche’s office,” [y/n] pouted, sinking into her chair and crossing her arms.

“You’re terrible you know that,” Fred deadpanned grabbing her cheeks in his hands, “don’t you say a word to my mother or she’ll make me bake you a cake or something.”

“I would quite like that actually, maybe I will tell her,” she replied, biting back a smile.

“Oh, come on! You know George was the one who got all the baking skills! That’s why he’s in charge of all the candy at our shops!” Fred whined, squeezing her face together slightly to try and return the teasing.

“Even if it turned out burnt and gross, I’d still like it because you made it,” she stated plainly, leaning up to try and snatch a kiss.

“Rubbish,” He replied, indulging her and accepting the kiss, smiling down at her when she beamed up at him.

“Whatever you say Freddie, y’know-,”

“Mrs. Weasley? Are you here? I had a question for you.”

All the color drained out of Fred’s face as he recognized McGonagall’s voice from across the room, [y/n]’s features mirroring the same horror as she pushed him off her and shoved him under her desk so he was as out of sight as she could make him.

“Yes- yes! I’m here Minerva, how can I help you?” [y/n] stuttered out, sliding her chair in as far as she could without injuring her soon to be husband.

“Well, I wanted to ask how the preparations were coming along for the annual Christmas Ball? I know you’ve been kept busy with recent exams, but the plans are top priority if we want to keep the spectacular turn out of our ball the same,” McGonagall explained walking up to her desk.

“Oh! The plans are coming along just fine, I haven’t quite finished drafting them up yet, but as soon as I do I’ll have them brought to you right away for approval,”  [y/n] assured her, trying her best not to let on how nervous she now was, trying not to get Fred caught.

“Spectacular! And I expect to see you down in the Hall later? Professors have to arrive early today for some announcement preparation,” McGonagall continued, thankfully still unaware of the hidden person in the room.

“Of course, thank you for letting me know ahead of time,” [y/n] nodded, pretending to assort some papers on her desk.

“Lovely,” McGonagall smiled, heading out of the room, but stopping before she exited the room, “Oh, and tell Mr. Weasley that I say hello, he’s been rather quiet about his surprise appearances to our school recently.”

“Will do!” [y/n] called after her, releasing a breath she didn’t even know she was holding in as soon as the door shut.

“Okay, how come you get to call her Minerva?” Fred complained, crawling out from under the desk, no visible panic at McGonagall’s leaving statement.

“All professors do. Besides, you’re a trouble-maker in her eyes, a darling, but a trouble-maker, she wouldn’t dream of giving you that kind of power,” [y/n] giggled, reaching up to rearrange his  ruffled hair, as he’d decided to grow it out again once he’d graduated.

“Trouble-maker,” Fred muttered, rolling his eyes, “Well she’ll be seeing a lot more of me whether she likes it or not, so I’ll win that privilege, eventually.”

“Whatever you say darling,” she hummed, scooting back in to continue grading her papers.

“You’re ignoring me already?” he groaned, letting his chin rest on the top of her head, arms slinging over her shoulders.

“I’ve got work to do Fred, I’m a professor now. I’m surprised you even had time to visit me, you’re a business owner now after all, it always amazes me how you have the time for these spontaneous visits- not that I don’t appreciate them,” she assured him, setting down her pen and squeezing his hands.

“I own the business, so I get to make my hours, unlike you,” he replied, moving his head so he was peeking over her shoulder.

“Is that supposed to be bad?” she quipped, leaning her head against his shoulder so she could kind of see him.

“Bad for me! I miss you! You’re here far too much,” Fred mumbled, intertwining their fingers.

“Well winter vacation is coming up soon, so you’ll be seeing much more of me. Hopefully you don’t get too sick of me,” she giggled, pursing her lips when he passed her a suggestive grin, “Ah, don’t look at me like that, that is not what I meant.”

“But it is and you know it darling,” Fred hummed, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Don’t get too cocky or I’ll come up with extra work to keep me here,” she warned, a teasing lilt to her threat.

“You wouldn’t. Besides even if you did, I’d kidnap you against your will. Also you wouldn’t hurt Molly like that, she always expects you for family festivities,” he replied simply, knowing she would never pass up an opportunity to spend time with him.  

“You’ve got me there. You know me so well,” she sighed, reaching back so she could toy with the hair at the nap of his neck.

“I’d hope I know you well, you’re about to be my wife,” he chuckled, shutting his eyes at the sensation of her soft fingers against his skin.

“Touché, love, touché,” she hummed in agreement, her free hand twisting the engagement ring situated on his finger.

“Anyways, I should probably leave you to it, with your boring paperwork and grading and all,” he sighed, standing tall, her hands sliding away from him and into her lap.

“It’s not boring,” she frowned, crossing her arms across her chest defensively, trying not to cave but ultimately failing when he gave her a raised brow, “okay, maybe it’s a little boring.”  

“I knew it. No worries darling, I know you love it here, I’m only teasing. See you soon though?” He mused, brushing a stray hair out of her face.

“See you soon,” she replied, grabbing his face and pulling him down for a sweet kiss, relishing in one another’s company for their limited time together.

“Farewell my love,” he announced, grabbing his broom and pushing himself onto the window sill, “see you around.”

“Fred wait!”

He laxed the position of his broom and turned around, an adoring smile stretching onto his lips as she pulled him for one last sweet kiss, placing a small object in his hand.

“What’s this?” he asked as she peppered a few last kisses around his face, trying not to let her emotions get the best of her.

“It’s the locket you gave me, I finally put a picture in it, thought it was time to return it to you,” she smiled, stroking his cheek lovingly.

“You’re astounding,” he muttered, tucking the charm in his pocket, “I love you.”

“I love you too, bye Freddie,” she waved as he kissed her softly once more and took off into the setting sun, “see you soon.”

[zoomsbatty]

(Repost because I had to delete my old account)

Adventures Of The Terrible Bird

Marco had overworked himself again. Hunched over his desk as he completed another stack of paperwork, and maps that needed to be done. Yet, no matter how many hours he poured in it always seemed to just increase in size. Witchcraft, he swore. 

At the late hours of the night he finally decides to turn it in. Sluggishly making his way down the quiet halls, and stretching his poor sore muscles. Stiff limbs popping loudly as the noise bounced across the wooden walls. He needed a chiropractor, but that would have to wait until morning. He fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, but it wasn't Marco who had woken up. 

It was the phoenix. 

The moment the sunlight shone through the small window the phoenix had awoken. Moving his small head from where it was sitting snugly inside his wing, and gracefully stretching his long neck. With a ruffle of his blue feathers he had realized something incredibly wrong. He was in a place he did not like. The phoenix was angry, and he was going to make it everyone’s problem. 

“YOI!” With a screech, and a flap of his wings he had declared war! He burst from his spot on the bed, and flew right to where the light was coming from. The sun was there, so that must mean it was a way outside. Yes! He will get to sun, and find his captors. Evil humans will pay! Except, that didn't happen. As he just flew face first into the window at full speed. He stopped, and hopped back to his feet like a blue feathery tornado. 

What was that? He craned his long neck to the one that hurt him. Staring at the strange, invisible, barrier that had dared to stop his escape. One peck spooking the bird as he screamed, and flapped his feathers in anger. It was magic! He sent a hiss its way. 

“What in the world? Marco, what are you doing in here?” His neck straightened up when he heard the voice. A human! Or in other terms, the phoenix’s next victim. The door slowly opened, and the poor soul then peaked in. Confused eyes scanning the room for any sign of the first commander. Instead, they sadly were met with a face full of blue feathers. 

“YOI! YOI!” He cried in victory as he knocked puny human down. He stood on their (not actually) dead body as he flapped his wings as a show of dominance! No one can stop the phoenix! He was unstoppable! With his new found freedom he made a run for it. Talons hitting wood as he ran across the halls at top speed. Top speed being however fast a waddling goose could go at a given time. He was free, and now he may smite all the fools who had dared try to contain him! 

“YYYOOOIII!” The moment he had found himself on deck he yelled. Wings flapping, and talons stomping on the wooden floor as all eyes turned to his form. A few faces growing pale at the sight of the blue monstrosity in their presence. 

“Oh god, please no.” 

“Not again. Did Marco overwork himself last night?” 

“I hope he’s just messing with us here.” 

Yes! They were trembling beneath his mighty form! Shake in fear tiny humans! He will show no mercy, and shall get his revenge! 

“Ok funky goose get your ass over here.” He squawked in shock when all of the sudden he was lifted from the ground. Long neck swinging back, and forth as he tried to find the source of this preposterous situation. Who dared remove him from his war path!? 

“Geez, I told you to get some rest earlier! When will you learn Marco?” Finally the phoenix’s head moved so he could stare his captor eye to eye. There was a man with strange brown hair styled up like a balloon, and the phoenix had the urge to nest within it as he stared. The human sighed, and then shook his head in disappointment. Hey! He should be pleased to be touching him! If anyone was supposed to be disappointed it should be the phoenix! He was just an ugly human after all! 

He screamed, and then began to nip at the offending hands. He will murder this human for his treason against the mighty phoenix! Hissing in joy when he saw a little blood come off the terrible human’s finger! 

“Geez Marco! Calm down. You're such a little shit when you go full bird.” Once the pain got too bad he released the furious ball of blue feathers. Watching with distaste as he strutted and screamed at all the watching eyes of their brothers. Though the phoenix had no idea these were his brothers at the moment in time. 

“Ok, where's the bird time out bag!?” Now the human had made a mistake at this point. He had turned his back to the phoenix! He shall enact his punishment for the human’s mistreatment of him! He slowly inched forward, neck elongated as he prepared himself for his attack. And then, he pounced. Nipping the man right on his butt before running in the opposite direction, and away from the angry yells of the strange balloon man. The man has felt his wrath, and he had no plans in stopping! Chirping happily as a few pirates flinched the moment he ran past them. Yes! He was god! 

“You should have seen me Deuce! The way I blasted that guy away!” The phoenix was pulled away by the sound of a new voice. Who was that? Now the phoenix normally could care less, but the moment he saw something shiny he decided it was all his business. 

He hissed, and then crouched down so he could expertly make his way to where the man was standing. Orange hat perched on his head that acted like a beacon for the bird. Then, in a blink of an eye he bursted forth. Grabbing a hold of the shiny dagger, and pulling with all his might. This was his dagger! HIS! The human should just give it up right now! 

“M-Marco!? What are you doing!? Hey! Let go!” No! Human should let go! Not the phoenix! This was his shiny now! With one last tug he pulled it off the guy’s hip, and ran with his treasure to a special secret spot. Or, better known as, behind a cluster of barrels that the phoenix now claimed as his nest. 

“Thatch! What's wrong with him!?” Nothing was wrong with phoenix! Phoenix was king! 

“Sometimes when he overworks himself he defaults to the natural bird brain of the phoenix. We don't know how that works, it just happens. He’ll be back to normal tomorrow at least.” Phoenix was normal! How dare this Thatch say otherwise! He sent a hiss in their direction, and glared as they just stared at him with tired eyes. “Well, hopefully he's his normal self tomorrow.” 

Everything seemed to have returned to some normalcy. Pirates running about, and the bright blue ball of feathers enjoying his spot away from it all. Beak chewing happily on the little diamonds as he basked in his new treasure. Yes, his shiny. He liked this shiny. Though now he wants more shinies. Enough shinies to populate his nest like a treasure wonderland. 

“Yoi!” He peeked his head out. Neck working like a telescope as he tried to spot his next victim. A few seemed to have noticed, and scurried away quickly to avoid the gaze of the terrible bird. Everyone knew to avoid Marco when he was like. All but the bird himself of course.

That's when he saw him, Deuce. The blue haired man leaning against a nearby railing and trying to scribble something within his tiny journal. To the Whitebeards it was a normal sight, but to the phoenix it was an opening. 

He flew up to the top of the barrels, and glared down the unsuspecting victim. The blue man had a shiny pen, and he wanted the shiny pen. With the confidence of a king he strutted across the deck. Eyes trained onto the only thing going through his tiny little walnut brain. He stopped, and stared up at the man. Not thinking for a second of what will even happen if he tried to take such a thing. 

“Yoi!” Quickly he jumped up, and grabbed the pen in between his beak. Wings flapping, and feathers flying all over the place as he secured his newest treasure. Yes! His shiny! His pen! His his his! 

“H-Hey! Give that back!” No! Give to him! He flapped his wings at him in a threatening way, and stomped his feet as a sign for the dumb human to back off! No one touches treasure once the phoenix has it! No siree! He claimed it! 

“Give it up. He isn't ever going to let that go now.” With a huff the bird made a run for it. Feet hitting the hard wood like a jackhammer as he made his way to hide the new wonder in his nest. Carefully tucking it next to the dagger with care, and practice. Cozy pen! Good pen! He liked this pen! He scratched the floor happily, and marked his territory so no other bird will dare to land in his vicinity. 

Now he just needed some nesting material. 

He left his cave. Neck swinging from side to side as he searched for precious soft materials to build upon. Only the best! Though he did not see any soft things. No fuzzies? He wanted fuzzies for nest! With an annoyed chortle he began to move deeper across the deck. Eyes on the lookout for the perfect piece, and wanting more than anything to build the best nest he possibly could. Bird was king! And king needed the best! 

While he was walking he had found himself within the dining hall. Its wooden walls, and floors giving it a monochromatic look that the bird did not care about whatsoever. Instead, he zoned completely on a nice sound that was wafting through the room. Singing? Not bird singing. Bird singing was better! Phoenix sang much better than human! 

He waddled to where the noise was, and peeked through a pair of double doors to see the weird hair human dancing about the kitchen. Singing a sea shanty, and preparing something on the stove that the phoenix couldn't discern. He didn't care what it was to exact, but it did smell nice. Yet, that isn't what had caught his attention the most. 

Eggs! There were eggs within the big box! Large, and white like ones the phoenix can eat and lay on. He wanted to lay on those eggs! His eggs! He wanted eggs! With a happy screech he ran to the box. Wings flapping as his eyes scanned each uniform little orb in wonder. He liked these eggs. Very good eggs! 

“Yoi yoi!” With lightning fast reflexes he grabbed an egg, and swallowed it whole. Very good egg! He shall grab more! 

“H-Hey! You put those down!” Thatch had finally noticed his little escapade, spoon in his hand waving about as he tried to force the annoying bird away from the merchandise. The phoenix just growled at him. Holding several eggs within his beak, and cheeks as he did so. How dare he! His eggs! “Drop them!” The man had lunged for him, but the bird easily dodged. Feathers now all over the kitchen floor, and tables. Marking so the world could see he was there. 

He bolted right away. Like a roadrunner getting away from a predator he was fast, and gone in a blink of an eye. Pride filled the bird as he escaped with his eggs without even a scratch on him. Yes! His eggs! With a happy chirp he gently dropped them next to his other treasures. The nest was starting to look good! Yes, good nest! Perfect for king! 

“Well! You're having a good time my son.” A shadow then swallowed the entire deck whole. Blocking the sun, and any source of light that the bird could make out. His feathers ruffling, and standing on their ends as instincts ran wild. Darkness meant storm, and storm was bad. Instead he found his feet dangling beneath him, and hands on his body. Out of everything he could have done he decided he was going to scream. 

“Yoooiii! YOI!” he kicked, and used his beak to nip at the offending hands that had trapped him. No one traps the phoenix! That is punishable by death! The bird only got angrier as the one imprisoning him refused to release his form. Only for him to stop in his tracks as a booming laughter shook him to his feathers. 

“I’m glad you still have your spirit Marco! That's my boy!” When the phoenix finally craned his long neck to see who could create such a noise he was in absolutely shock. That was a big human! Large crescent mustache, and giant face seemed like a predator to him. One big finger then reached down to pet the bird, causing a happy little chirp to reverberate in his throat. He liked this human! Good human! Big human can protect him! Very good servant! 

“Yoi!” He flapped his wings until he was finally placed down. Puffing out his chest, and glaring up at the large man that held his hostage. He can be good slave to the phoenix, but that did not mean he could touch him! No touching! 

“Alright alright. How about you go back to your nest.” The large finger patted him on the head again, and the bird just sent a nip his way in annoyance. No touching! Bad human! “I’m sorry, you never let your old man pet you though. Here, a little gift for my boy.” Something glittered in the corner of his eye, and when the boy turned he screamed in joy. Yes! A shiny! Golden treasure! 

“Yoi!” He grabbed the glittering ring with his beak, and waddled off to where his nest was starting to form. He had decided now he liked this human, but he will probably forget such a thing in a few minutes anyway. 

“Pops! Stop spoiling him! Now he’ll think it's ok to steal from us!” Bird ignored insignificant humans. Those humans were just slaves to the phoenix! Bird was better than them! 

“Now, making him happy doesn't hurt anyone.” He hurt all, and bird enjoyed it! All bow to him! A loud snore then snapped him away from his nest, and forced his neck to stare at a nearby body that had parked itself near his area. Bad human! He marked this territory! 

With an angry growl he stomped right up to the human. Orange hat over his eyes, and messy black hair all over the place. Bad human! Terrible human! The phoenix used his beak to nip at the boy’s skin, but instead found an incredible discovery. He was oozing a nice, comforting, heat. He rubbed his head against the man’s stomach, and purred in delight at the cozy feeling. Better than nest! Very safe, and nice! 

“Yoi!” He jumped up onto the man’s stomach, and walked in a few circles before settling down. Tucking his head into his wing as he cooed in delight. The warmth spreading throughout his body, and making his feathers tingle in joy. This human was nice, and he liked this human. And he was sure to not forget that this time.

[nerdythebard]

#4: Ah Puch, Horrific God of Decay

Welcome back, gods and goddesses!

Today, we take a quick peek into the domain of death with Ah Puch (pronounced either ah-POOCH or ah-puh-ASH), one of many Maya gods of death residing in the cold and dark afterlife called Xibalba. We know very little of Ah Puch (as is the case with a lot of Maya and other Mesoamerican gods), but from several texts we do have, we can learn he was known as "Ruler of the North" and that he was later banished for breaking his promise to the Maya king. But let's see what SMITE tells us about him!

Next time: Here comes the Sun... Is it a dog? Is it black ninja fire? No, it's...

As always, let's see what we need for Ah Puch to sow decay and death around:

Corpses: We need to do all kinds of freaky stuff with corpses of our enemies (including but not limited to: animating them, exploding them, making them heal us).

Decay: Related to the previous one. Area damage from miasma is another technique we need to implement.

High Area Damage: Ah Puch's Ultimate skill is a large AoE that summons the dead to rush the enemies. We need to find a way to empty the crypts en masse.

--- Once again, we're gonna play around a little bit. None of the established races fits Ah Puch... we could've picked Fallen Aasimar for that spark of divinity and a smell of the underworld, but let's follow the previous build's example and turn to the Wizards' Unearthed Arcana playtest material. This time, Gothic Lineages from 2021!

Ah Puch is a Reborn creature. This gives us a double creature - it lets us force a Wisdom saving throw on a target and paralyse them if they fail. Remember, it only works on humanoids; it will not stop animals, monsters, dragons, etc.g speed, 60 feet of Darkvision, and two languages – Common and one of our choosing. We also get to add a +2 and +1 to any of our ability scores. Let's get +2 Wisdom and +1 Intelligence.

There are two key features Reborn creatures get. First is Deathless Nature, which gives us several benefits:

Resistance to poison damage;

Advantage on saving throws and being poisoned;

We don't need to eat, drink, sleep, or breathe;

Magic cannot put us to sleep. Similar to elves, we can finish our long rest in 4 hours instead of 8 by remaining in a motionless state.

We also get Knowledge from the Past, which doesn't necessarily fit Ah Puch's lore, but it's too good to pass on. We get a pool of d6 dice equal to our proficiency bonus. When we make an ability check that uses a skill, we can roll a d6 and add the number to the result. We get all of the dice back when finishing a long rest.

Ah Puch walks the world of the living far and wide, so making him an Outlander seems like a good choice. We get proficiency in Athletics and Survival skills, proficiency with one musical instrument, and we get to learn one more language. We also get the Wanderer feature, which gives us photographic memory when it comes to geographical features and nearby terrain.

ABILITY SCORES

We start with Intelligence and Wisdom for our two best scores. Then follow it with Constitution, because spellcasters need those Hit Points, then Charisma for when we need to scare somebody into the afterlife, and we're gonna finish it with Dexterity and Strength.

CLASS

Level 1 - Druid: Some of you probably can see where this is going. Yes, I am that predictable. OR AM I!?

Ekhm... Our Hit Dice is a d8, we start with Hit Points of 8 + CON mod. We get proficiencies with light armour, medium armour and shields (with a note that druids will not wear armour or use shields made of metal), as well as clubs, daggers, darts, javelins, maces, quarterstaffs, scimitars, sickles, slings, spears and Herbalism kit. Our saving throws are Wisdom and Intelligence and we get to choose two class skills; let's get Insight and Medicine.

At the first level, we learn yet another language – Druidic – which is unreadable for anybody but other druids, unless by means of magic. We also get Spellcasting from the very start. For our two cantrips, Shillelagh transforms our staff (we got one from our Wanderer background) into a magical weapon for 1 minute and lets us use our Wisdom modifier instead of Strength when attacking with it. Poison Spray creates a puff of toxic gas within 10 feet range. The target must make a Constitution saving throw or suffer 1d12 poison damage.

At the first level, we get two 1st-level spell slots and we can have four 1st-level spells prepared:

Charm Person targets a single creature; if it fails a Wisdom saving throw, it is charmed for 1 hour (no concentration needed). A "charmed" creature cannot directly or indirectly attack us, and we get an advantage on any ability checks while interacting with it. Remember, it's not a mindless control, and the creature realizes it was charmed when the spell ends.

Earth Tremor forces targets in 10 feet range to make a Dexterity saving throw, or take 1d6 bludgeoning damage and fall prone from the ground shaking.

Fog Cloud creates a 20-foot-radius sphere of fog centred on a point within 120 feet from us. It lasts for 1 hour (concentration) and is a great way to either obscure our movement or to sneak up to the enemy.

Detect Poison and Disease lasts for 10 minutes (concentration) and shows us any and all poisonous things and diseased creatures within 30 feet from us. It also lets us identify the kind of poison and disease.

Level 2 - Druid: Next level of Druid gives us their signature ability – Wild Shape. This lets us assume the form of an animal and the CR of the animals we can turn into increases at the 4th and 8th level. This doesn't necessarily work for us, who make Ah Puch, but there is another option: Wild Companion from Tasha's Cauldron of Everything lets us burn one usage of our Wild Shape to summon a creature to our side as per the Find Familiar spell.

We get another 1-st level spell: Faerie Fire summons colourful flames in 20-foot-cube that stick to all inanimate objects and creatures that fail their Dexterity saving throw. For 1 minute (concentration) any attacks against creatures and objects affected by the fire get an advantage, and the targets cannot benefit from concealing effects, such as invisibility.

At the second druid level, we get to pick our Druid Circle and for Ah Puch, there is nothing better than the Circle of Spores. Those who find beauty in fungi and moulds are perfect subjects for the Lord of Decay. When we pick this Circle, we learn the Chill Touch cantrip, with more spells coming to us at later levels.

Our first Circle feature is Halo of Spores. We are surrounded by microscopic necrotic spores that are harmless unless we activate them. When a creature moves within 10 feet of us, we can use a reaction to deal 1d4 necrotic damage to it, unless it makes a Constitution saving throw.

We also get the Symbiotic Entity feature, which lets us channel some more magic into our Spores. As an action, we can sacrifice one Wild Shape use to gain 4 Temporary Hit Points for every Druid level. We also get an additional dice roll for our Halo of Spores and if we have a melee weapon, it deals additional 1d6 necrotic damage to any target it hits. Those benefits last for 10 minutes, until we lose all Temporary Hit Points, or until we use Wild Shape again.

Level 3 - Druid: At this stage, we don't get any new class features. It's focused mostly on spells:

From our subclass, we get two spells - Blindness/Deafness, which does exactly what it says if the target fails their Constitution saving throw, and Gentle Repose, which prevents the target from decaying and becoming undead.

We unlock 2nd-spell slots, which means we can get Hold Person - it lets us force a Wisdom saving throw on a target and paralyze them if they fail. Remember, it only works on humanoids; it will not stop animals, monsters, dragons, etc.

Level 4 - Druid: Our Wild Shape improves, we can now assume a form of a 1/2 CR creature (such as a crocodile, a shark, an ape, etc.) without flying speed. We also get our first Ability Score Improvement of the build! Let's raise our Wisdom by 2.

We get two more spells, since raising our Wisdom puts us at 18.

Locate Animals and Plants lets us name a specific kind of plant or animal and notifies us of its position within 5 miles of us.

Healing Spirit summons a small nature spirit to soothe the wounds of an ally who walks into its range.

Level 5 - Druid: We don't get new class features, but we get to unlock 3rd-level spell slots. For this, Revivify brings back to life a creature that died within 1 minute of casting the spell. It consumes a diamond worth at least 300 gold pieces, so remember to hit up a jeweller whenever stopping at a town.

Feign Death lets us touch a willing creature (or ourselves) and put it into a state indistinguishable from death. The target is blinded, incapacitated and its speed is 0. It has resistance to all damage except psychic.

Our subclass gives us two extra spells: Animate Dead lets us bring a pile of bones or a corpse for our temporary service as a skeleton or a zombie for 24 hours. Gaseous Form transforms us (or a willing creature) into smoke. For 1 hour (concentration), we get a flying speed of 10 feet, we have resistance to non-magical damage, and we can slip through openings even 1 inch in diameter.

Level 6 - Druid: We get another subclass feature. Fungal Infestation lets us infest a Small or Medium corpse with our necrotic spores and animate it. The animated creature comes back to life with 1 Hit Point and obeys us for 1 hour after which it crumbles away and dies again. We can use this feature a number of times equal to our Wisdom modifier and we regain the uses when finishing a long rest.

We get another spell - Barkskin turns our skin into rigid, rough, and tree-like. For the duration (1 hour, concentration), our AC cannot be lower than 16.

Level 7 - Wizard

Come on, be honest, who saw that coming? :D

Time to play with some magic bois! Picking the first level in Wizard gives us 4 + our CON modifier of Hit Points, no extra proficiencies, but we do get Arcane Recovery, which lets us regain some spell slots the combined level of which is equal to half of our Wizard level (rounded up) and they cannot be 6th level or higher. For now, it will let us recover 1st-level slots, but we'll make it useful later.

We also get three more cantrips from the Wizard (yes, they stack when you multiclass!):

Fire Bolt hurls a mote of fire, which deals 1d10 fire damage on a successful hit.

Ray of Frost deals 1d8 cold damage on a successful hit and reduces the target's speed by 10 feet.

Toll the Dead forces a Wisdom saving throw on one target and deals 1d8 necrotic damage on a failed save. If the target misses any Hit Points, they instead receive 1d12 necrotic damage.

1st level Wizards get to pick six 1st-level spells at the very beginning. I'm not gonna describe all of them because it would take forever, so let me just list the ones we should get:

Ray of Sickness

Tasha's Caustic Brew

False Life

Cause Fear

Feather Fall

Mage Armour

Level 8 - Wizard: At this level, we get to pick our Arcane Tradition and to nobody's surprise we pick School of Necromancy. We get Necromancy Savant, which halves the cost and time of writing spells in our spellbook, and we double down on death magic with Grim Harvest - whenever we kill a target with a spell of 1st level or higher, we regain Hit Points equal to 2x that spell's level (or 3x if it's a Necromancy type spell).

Every time we gain a Wizard level, we can learn two new spells. For this one, let's get Shield for some extra AC in a clutch, and Witch Bolt.

Level 9 - Wizard: Since we get access to Wizard's 2nd-level spells here, let's pick Ray of Enfeeblement which lowers the target's damage dealing by half, and Spider Climb for some better mobility.

Level 10 - Wizard: For our halfway point, we get our next Ability Score Improvement. Let's bump up Constitution for better Hit Points and put the second point in Intelligence.

We get another cantrip, so let's get Infestation, to conjure some nasty creepy crawlies on those who fail their Constitution saving throw.

We also get two more 2nd-level spells: See Invisibility lets us detect all invisible creatures within our field of view for 1 hour (no concentration required). Phantasmal Force is a personalized illusion, which creates a creature, object or another phenomenon, perceivable only by a target that fails their Intelligence saving throw. Flavour it as threatening the target with being dragged to Hell, or their hands shrivelling up and decaying, etc.

Level 11 - Wizard: No new class features, but we do get 3rd-level spell slots unlocked. For this one, we can get Bestow Curse - which affects a target who fails their Wisdom saving throw. The curse produces several effects:

We pick one ability score. For 1 minute (concentration), the target has a disadvantage on all checks and saving throws using that ability;

Their attack rolls against us gain disadvantage;

At the start of each turn they have to make a Wisdom saving throw, or completely lose their turn doing nothing;

While the target is cursed, our attacks against them deal extra 1d8 necrotic damage

For our second spell, Spirit Shroud uses a bonus action to summon a horde of ghosts circling around us for 1 minute (concentration). Until the spell ends, every attack we make within 10 feet of us deals extra 1d8 radiant, cold, or necrotic damage (our choice). Additionally, any creature hit by this extra damage cannot heal until the start of our next turn AND any creature that starts its turn within 10 feet of us has its speed reduced by 10, until the start of our next turn.

Level 12 - Wizard: At this level, we get the subclass upgrade - Undead Thralls. Normally, it would give us the Animate Dead spell for free, but we already know that one because of our Druid subclass spells; therefore, I would just give that spell the upgrade mentioned here. When we cast Animate Dead henceforth:

We can target one additional pile of bones, or a corpse, for two thralls to control at the same time;

Our thralls' Hit Points are increased by our Wizard level;

The thralls can add our proficiency bonus to their weapon attacks

We also get two more spells: Summon Shadowspawn calls forth a shadowy wraith in an unoccupied space within 90 feet from us. We get to choose between three types of shadows (Fury, Despair, and Fear). To further enhance our Army of the Dead, Summon Undead works in a similar way, except it summons an Undead Spirit, also with three types (Ghostly, Putrid, or Skeletal). Both spells come from Tasha's Cauldron of Everything.

Level 13 - Wizard: No class features, but we do unlock 4th-level spells here, so let's add two of those: Blight causes a wave of necromantic energy to strike one target; they have to make a Constitution saving throw or take 8d8 necrotic damage (half damage on a successful save). If we target a plant creature or a magical plant, it takes maximum damage. If we target a regular non-magical plant, it withers automatically.

Sickening Radiance creates a 30-foot-radius sphere of necrotic energy within 120 feet of us. When a creature enters the sphere starts its turn there, it must make a Concentration saving throw or take 4d10 points of necrotic damage, suffer one level of exhaustion (i.e. disadvantage on ability check) AND glow like the fresh rivers of Chernobyl, which also prevents them from becoming invisible, for 10 minutes (concentration).

Level 14 - Wizard: We get another ASI at this level. Let's go for Intelligence and Constitution for some better casting ability and HP.

For our spells, Banishment forces a creature to disappear from the Plane of Existence it currently resides in, provided it fails a Charisma saving throw. If the creature is native to the Plane we're banishing it from (e.g. a bugbear in the Material Plane), it is transported to a pocket dimension for the spell's duration (1 minute, concentration) and reappears in the space it left. If the creature is not native to the Plane we're banishing it from (e.g. a fire elemental in the Material Plane), it returns to its home plane and doesn't return, provided we manage to hold the spell without breaking the concentration for 1 minute.

Phantasmal Killer is similar in mechanics to Phantasmal Force, except here if the target fails its Wisdom saving throw, it is frightened for the duration (1 minute, concentration) and it must succeed on a Wisdom saving throw every turn or take 4d10 psychic damage.

Level 15 - Wizard: No new class features, just spells. We unlock 5th-level spell slots, which gives us a few new delicious death-themed magicks:

Danse Macabre lets us animated up to five corpses to raise as either a skeleton or a zombie. They obey our command for 1 hour (concentration) and as a bonus action, we can issue a command that all five of them will execute.

Negative Energy Flood sends out lashes of necrotic energy at a single target. It must make a Constitution saving throw or suffer 5d12 necrotic damage (half damage on a successful save). If the creature is killed with that spell, it comes back as a zombie albeit not under our control. If we target an undead creature with this spell, it gets half of 5d12 Temporary Hit Points.

Level 16 - Wizard: This level gives us our second-to-last subclass feature - Inured to Undeath. We now gain resistance to necrotic damage and our maximum Hit Points cannot be reduced.

We get our final cantrip - Mind Sliver, which forces an Intelligence saving throw on one target. On an unsuccessful save, the target suffers 1d6 psychic damage (3d6 in our case, because of lv. 16) and must subtract 1d4 on its next saving throw made before the start of our next turn.

For this level's spells, we take Enervation, which deals 4d8 necrotic damage on an unsuccessful save, and it lets us trigger 4d8 necrotic damage every turn for the spell's duration (1 minute, concentration). It takes an action to activate the automatic damage, and the spell ends if the target leaves its range (60 feet) or is behind a full cover.

Hold Monster is the same as Hold Person but can be used to paralyse beasts, monstrosities, aberrations, etc. It cannot be used against the undead, but we've got those under control.

Level 17 - Wizard: Once again, no new class features, but we do unlock 6th-level spell slots. For this, let's take Create Undead which does exactly what it says on the packaging; up to three corpses become ghouls under our control for 24 hours. We can extend the control over them indefinitely if we continue to re-cast the spell before the current 24 hours end.

Magic Jar is the closest thing D&D players have to become a lich and let's be honest - Ah Puch is the closest SMITE players have to a lich. The spell rips our soul from our body and stores it in a pre-prepared container for as long as we desire. We cannot do anything while we're stored inside a container, except attempting to possess a humanoid body within 100 feet of us. We can jump bodies as many times as we desire but if we decide to jump back to our own body and we're 100 feet or further away from it, we die.

Level 18 - Wizard: For our last ASI, we'll max our Intelligence to 20.

For this level's spells, we'll grab Contingency, which acts as a sort of failsafe program; we can pick a 5th-level or lower spell and select conditions for its activation (e.g. "cast water breathing as soon as the head is submerged in water or similar liquid").

Soul Cage allows us to use a reaction to snatch the recently deceased humanoid's soul and store it in a tiny silver cage. It is another "lich" spell, as it allows us to utilize the captured soul in several ways: we can regain Hit Points, ask a question, etc.

Level 19 - Wizard: Here is where we receive our 7th-level spell slots. However, there isn't that many 7th-level spells we need. Instead, let's pick two more 6th-level spells:

Disintegrate is a concentrated ray of green energy that strikes one target within 60 feet from us. If the target is a living creature, they must make a Dexterity saving throw, or take 10d6+40 points of necrotic damage. If the target is reduced to 0 HP with this spell, it turns to dust immediately and can be only brought back via True Resurrection or Wish spells. The spell can be also used to destroy inanimate objects and magic constructs, such as barriers.

Guards and Wards is a powerful protection spell that transforms our resting place into a secured fortress (after all, we're the Death God of Xibalba, we need to have our own stronghold). We create a ward that protects an area up to 2.500 square feet of floor space, up to 20 feet tall. Within the protected area, all corridors are filled with dense fog, all doors and windows are sealed and locked, and all stairs are covered in sticky webs. The protection lasts for 24 hours (no concentration), but if the spell is cast on the same area every day for a year, it becomes permanent.

Level 20 - Wizard: For our capstone, we get another subclass feature. With Command Undead we can now bind all undead to our control, even those created by other wizards. As an action, we can choose one undead within 60 feet of us; it has to fail a Charisma saving throw against our Spell Save DC, or be friendly towards us and obey our commands until we use the feature again.

For our final two spells, let's move to 7th-level:

Finger of Death causes a blast of necromantic energy to pierce a single target. The target must make a Constitution saving throw or take 7d8+30 necrotic damage (half damage on a successful save). A humanoid killed by this spell rises back as a zombie permanently under our control.

Power Word: Pain targets every creature within 60 feet of us. If they have 100 Hit Points or less, they feel immense pain throughout their bodies. While affected, the creature's speed cannot be higher than 10, it has a disadvantage on all rolls (skill checks, attacks, saving throws) except Constitution, and it prevents any spellcasting unless the target succeeds on a Consitution saving throw. At the end of its turn, a creature can make a Constitution saving throw to shake off the spell's effect.

---

Now, let's see what we got from making the Death God of Decay.

First off, we've got cantrips for days, 20 Intelligence and 18 Wisdom, various types of corpses on our beck and call, and enough death-related spells to put a few liches to shame.

Unfortunately, we barely scratch the surface of 100 Hit Points, and we gotta manage two casting classes with two casting abilities. Our Charisma score is also not that good, so those saving throws might be difficult for us.

Anywho, I hope you guys enjoyed it, and I'll see you next time!

Edit: WOW, that took way longer than I expected. I'm really sorry, I guess this was a difficult build and I worked pretty slowly on it. I'll do better from now on!

- Nerdy out!

[alovesongshewrote]

Kiss Me | Hisirdoux Casperan

Plot:  A fight between Douxie and the reader attracts some unwanted attention, and the only way out is to kiss.  At least in your opinion.  [Hisirdoux Casperan x Gender Neutral! Rival!Rreader]

Word count:  1,734

Warnings:  fighting, rivalry, tension (owo),  a lil’ spicy (bc rivals to lovers, so you know how that goes), swearing

A/N: I used some dialogue prompts from the blogs corvidprompts and dialogue-prompts because witty banter is hard to write

Magic was weird.

It was colourful and glowy, and it lit up the night.  Magic was super pretty, but also super noticeable, and that made it really hard to fight your arch-rival in the dark of the night without anyone noticing.  That didn’t mean you weren’t going to try.

And try you did!  With a blast of blue light, your back collided with a tree, ripping the breath from your lungs.

“Oh, come on Casperan,” you wheezed, “I know you can do better than that,” you paused again to violently cough, supporting yourself with the tree you had hit.  The tree was loose.

“Seriously (L/N)?” Hisirdoux emerged from the tree line, “Now is not the time for witty banter,”

“This isn’t banter, it’s flirting.  Now keep still, it’s harder to hit you when you move around like that,”  

He groaned as you steadied your hands, taking aim at the wizard.  He did the same.  The two of you moved against each other in sync, letting your magic fly towards your opponent.  Red and blue collided in the air, illuminating the night sky with a purple glow for the briefest of moments.  Your hits landed, and you were both blown back.

“Ugh,” you groaned, making your way up from the ground, “You… suck,”

“Oh, what, no more witty banter, darling?”

“Ok, you know what?  Fuck you, fuck this, when I’m done kicking your ass I’m going out and buying white flowy shirts and tight pants and we’re doing this like proper rivals!  You wanna insult me?  SEND ME A LETTER,”

“You talk too much,”

“Shut up,”

Red magic threw him back this time, you ran to his body, eager to kick him while he was down.  And you did.  He groaned, “Ugh, harder dadd-”

“Jesus, Casperan, you could at least buy me dinner first,”

“Cheeky,” he laughed out.  You allowed him to rise from the ground, getting yourself into a combative position.

“You’re so strange, you know that,”

“Yeah, I’m not the only one,”

You ran at him, throwing punches and spells in his direction.  Red and blue mixed, turning the world around you purple.  Eventually, it was enough to knock him onto his back.  Unfortunately, he took you with him.

You also landed unfortunately, straddling his lap, “Like I said emo boy,” you exhaled, “Dinner first,”

He made a noise between a groan and a screech, flipping you onto your back and jumping off of you, “Bold of you to assume I could afford that,”

“Oh god, do they not tip in this town?”

“Nope,”

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,”  you let your guard down for a moment, relating to the hell of retail all too well.  Douxie, of course, used this against you, taking your legs out with his staff.

“Ahhh, ow.  That hurt, you bastard,”

He sighed, kneeling next to you, “You know we could avoid this if you just did as I asked,”

“Never gonna happen,”  You sprung up, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him to the ground.

“I will smite you,”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, struggling to your feet, “You couldn’t smite a paper towel if it set itself on fire.  Get some perspective,”

You threw another spell at him, the red light threw him back a few feet.  He crawled to his knees.

“Awwe, Doux you’re on your knees in front of me.  Looks like you’ve really hit rock bottom,”

“It might, but I’ve brought a shovel and I’m ready to dig!”

“You really didn’t understand what I meant,”

You lifted your fists, red light surrounded them, Douxie did the same, still on his knees.  His frame was illuminated with blue light.

“I should’ve left you on the street corner where I found you,” he said, preparing to curse you. “BUT YA DIDN’T,”  you wasted no time, springing at him from your spot.  This time it was Douxie who hit a tree.

“C’mon now Doux,” you stalked over to the wizard, “Why do you hate me so much?  Is it really you?  Or did Merlin tell you I was a big bad bad influence and you instantly believed him?”

Douxie growled,  “That’s enough.  Get out of Arcadia (L/N),”

“Awe, but I was just starting to like it here,” you smirked, “Just tell me,” you dragged out the last word,  “Why do you want me gone so badly?”

“Because you’re a threat!”  the wizard sprung up and threw a spell your way.  It just missed you, but there was no time to celebrate.   Another curse was headed your way,

“You have no morals!  You don’t care about anyone but yourself!”  Douxie’s magic shot out at you.  With each spell, his control lessened, the blue light becoming more and more chaotic, and more and more of a threat.  

You too were losing control of the situation, and now you were struggling to regain it, mostly through banter.

“That’s not true!  I care about my dog,”  Your response only enraged the wizard further, making the situation worse.  More spells came your way.  You did the only thing you could and kept dodging, backing up and away from Douxie, who advanced on you.  It was becoming more and more clear that Merlin was not a card you should have played.

“You don’t take anything seriously!  You’re cruel and unusual, and,” Douxie stopped talking.  You took the moment to catch your breath, staring down your opponent.  Usually, the rivalry between you and the wizard was light-hearted, but the look in his eyes told another story.  Your heart sunk as you realized he might actually hate you.

The thought made you sick.  Did you even want to keep fighting if that was the case?  

You didn’t.

So, when Douxie came at you, you did nothing.  You just stood there as he advanced, backing you into yet another tree and pining your arms above your head.  You gasped slightly, feeling your heartbeat pick up speed in your chest, the sound of it roared in your ears.  Could he hear that?   You hoped not.

He leaned closer to you, his lips beside your ear.  You pressed your eyes shut.  If he hated you, what came next?  This was a very strange way to kill someone.

“You’re cruel and unusual, and you keep distracting me,” “What!?”

“I said, you keep-”

“Sorry to interrupt,”  Archie’s voice nearly drew a scream from you, “But someone is coming!”

You took a moment to curse the light show that was magic before looking around.  You could see bushes moving nearby.  Someone was definitely headed your way.

“Shit,” you muttered.

“Archie, hide,”  Douxie’s familiar did as he asked while you pondered what the hell to do next.  If anyone found you and Douxie in this position it would raise a lot of questions.  There was only one thing you could think to do.  It would also raise questions, but hopefully, there would be fewer of them because there were no other options.

“Kiss me,”

“What?”

There was no time.  Whoever it was was only moments from finding the two of you.

So, you broke from the wizard’s hold, grabbing his face and bringing your lips to his.  The kiss was soft.  His body was warm.  Your eyelids fluttered closed as you moved a hand from his face to the back of his neck.  His hands moved too, finding their way to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him.

The two of you moved in perfect sync as if the universe had made you for each other.  The kiss became more passionate, stealing your breath and making your heartbeat even faster than before.  Sparks ran through your body, demanding more, more what you didn’t know.  Every nerve was on fire.  Your body burned like an ember smouldering in the night.  

Unfortunately, you couldn’t focus all of your being into the kiss, as much as you wished you could.  You stated alert, listening for whoever had come to investigate the bright lights in the forest.  You said a little thank you to the gods when the person missed you entirely and disappeared back into the trees.

And then you cursed them because that meant you had to separate yourself from Douxie.

Your lips came apart, leaving both of you breathing heavily.  You shut your eyes again and brought your forehead to rest on his chest.  He didn’t let go of you.  If anything, he only brought you closer to him, burying his face in your hair.

“So,”

“So,”

You looked up at him, “That was nice,”

“It was totally nuclear,”

You smiled slightly, before moving your hands from his neck to encircle his waist, “I’m sorry.  For what I said about Merlin, I’m sorry,”

“I’m sorry too, love.  For everything, all of this.  I-I didn’t mean-”

“I know,”

“And I know you care about the world outside of you, and your dog and-”

“Douxie?”

“Yeah?”

“Just shut your mouth and kiss me again,”  

The wizard did what you told him.  This time, you let yourself melt into it.

The kiss was too short in your opinion, but you had more questions, “So, I guess you don’t hate me, huh?”

“(Y/N), darling, I could never hate you.  I think you’re amazing.  You’re so strong, and fearless, and you’re one of the most skilled magic users I’ve ever met.  You distract me because you’re just so-”

“Beautiful,” you cut him off, not talking about yourself, but rather to yourself about Douxie.

“Yeah, that,”  

You kissed again, this time, the length was more satisfactory.

“So, what do we do now?”

“I still wanna go to dinner sometime.  And I’m getting the bill because the tips in this town suck,”

“I-”

“No, seriously, I got it.  I invested in Apple back in the day,”

“You’re brilliant,”

“Thanks, I know,”

The two of you shared a smile, reveling in the moment until a small cough came from one of the bushes.

“Oh, yeah, hey Arch,”

“Hi, Douxie.  (Y/N),”

“Hey Archie, how are you?”

“I’m just fine, but right now Douxie and I need to get back into town.  The bookstore won’t guard itself,”

“It literally will with warding, but ok,”

“Go home with your familiar emo boy, your bookstore needs you,”

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be around.  I’ll pick you up sometime on Saturday for dinner?”

“Nuclear,”

You giggled again, pecking him on the lips one more time before letting him go.

“Goodnight. Casperan,”

“Goodnight, (L/N),”

[lisinfleur]

Midwife?

The request:

Author’s Notes | I don’t really believe Ivar would know what to do, but I think it’s funny to have a man of that times narrating such an unknown moment for them! 

Universe | Vikings

Pairing | Ivar x Reader

Info | Viking Age AU, requested by @sallydelys​ for 5CW7

Words | 1992

⁑ Warnings: Mentions of blood, graphic description of labor and childbirth. Keep in mind that this document may contain clinical/medical mistakes.

Middle Winter.

How the hell did I come up to get my wife heavily pregnant right in the middle of the Winter?

Y/N was swollen like a balloon, ready to pop. And I was nervous as fuck with the proximity of that event. Our firstborn child.

Something I never thought could be possible.

"Where is daddy?"

Shit.

I had called Floki through a slave that left what... three hours before the snow started falling outside again? I could bet Floki wouldn't come and I would have one less slave in my house cause that girl would end up frozen outside my house. Damn snow!

"He was supposed to be here already, love, but the snow started falling outside again. I think we may have to wait a little longer."

"I want my dad..." she cried.

Shit. Again.

Y/N was my everything. My queen, the love of my life, my first, my one, and only. But fuck... Since she got pregnant, she was completely changed, every day acting with a different mood... She was driving me crazy!

Mom told me it was the pregnancy, that I should be patient. But things sometimes would run out of my control and we would fight for hours! Just to end up with her tightly embraced on me, saying she could never live without me as much as I couldn't imagine my life without my Y/N.

Things didn't get better with the Winter arriving and her final months making her less able to move around. She wanted to walk, to go out, but the midwife told her to stay more inside the house since she started feeling dizzy once again. There was built the battlefield: she even tried to sneak out of my sight once! Imagine how good it was to have to bring my wife back home, crying because she wasn't able to reach the central square and almost fell in the middle of the way.

Since then, we thought it would be safer to be with her at Floki's cabin. Floki could help me to take a look at her, Helga could help me to keep her entertained. Their slaves could do everything for us and she would be safe when the time to give birth has come. Perfect!

If Bjorn didn't have decided to ask for a bunch of boats in the middle of the fucking Winter.

I would castrate my brother if I could! Why the fucking damn heck did Björn wanted to navigate the gods' damn sea in the middle of the freezing Winter? Couldn't he fucking wait my wife to give birth before taking Floki out of our cabin right in the day Helga said she finished my mother's dress and had to leave too?

Now we were completely alone and my little precious balloon was sadly mourning around because somehow, she wasn't feeling well and wanted her father exactly when he couldn't be there for her.

"Babe, you shouldn't be out of the bed," I complained, walking towards her when she sprouted at the living room's door, in her nightgown, walking slow like a little swollen duck.

My charming swollen duck I loved so badly.

"But Ivar... I'm not feeling well. I don't wanna stay in bed. The baby's feet are on my ribs and I can't breathe," she complained when I slowly started guiding her into our room once again.

"I know. So, we can walk a little through our room ok? Come," I insisted, ready to open the door when she held herself on the wall, pressing my shoulder with the other hand and moaning in a tone I didn't want to hear in a million years.

Her body bent forward and she let go of the wall to touch her belly.

She was in pain...

Her eyes, full of fear found mine, full of affliction.

And then, that happened.

A small moment of silence before a wet sound denounced the water flowing in the middle of her legs, making a poll around her feet.

"Ivar..." she mumbled.

"Fuck!" I answered.  

Right before she bent once again, this time, growling in pain.

"Fuck!!" I cursed again, trying to guide her with me to the bed.

Cursing my legs for not being able to lift her into my arms.

Cursing the snow for not being able to go out for a midwife.

Cursing Floki for leaving with Helga.

My mom for ordering that stupid dress. Björn for wanting his stupid boats!

May Thor smite them down into the ocean!

"Ivar... It hurts! It hurts so bad!" she cried when we finally reached the bed to lay her down.

Fuck! I was the younger of my brothers! Ubbe had seen my mother giving birth to three after him! Hvitserk? Two. Even Sigurd would be able to do something if he wasn't so young when I was born! But what did I know about birth and labors?

Shit! I knew shit about it! I slid my hands through my hair looking at her. And Y/N noticed I was completely lost.

"You need... To boil water... And you need to bring the towels that are at my mother's locker. Be careful when you get the towels wet into the water. It will help me with the pain and... you with the... blood!" she growled the last word, bending forward again.

And I almost could see her big belly contracting.

Blood? Blood.

Blood... Yeah. I remember Ubbe saying my birth was full of that shit and that he was scared of seeing the maid coming in with towels and out with red clothes dip in our mother's blood.

I wasn't ready for that shit!

I wasn't raised for that shit!

Fuck Björn's boats! A thousand times!

I sat down, getting rid of my braces - dragging I would be quicker and it wasn't time to be prideful. I then went to the heart of fire, placing a big pan I found at the kitchen over the fire and bringing water into it until it was full.

I could hear Y/N grunting inside the room, trying to breathe. And I then looked outside, seeing the snow becoming higher.

"Damn... Damn! Why the fuck are you doing this to me?" I asked the gods, lowering my head for a moment. "Frigg... Mother... I beg you, guide my hands. And for the gods' sake, end this damn storm!"

The water took some time to get hot enough so I could bring a pot to the room with the towels, leaving the bigger pan with more water to boil at the fire.

When I came into the room, Y/N was sitting in the bed, her back supported by the pillows, her knees flexed as she was breathing quickly, short.

"What do I do now?" I asked, looking at her.

About to panic at the sight of the big poll of blood that had been formed in the middle of her legs and that I was able to see as soon as I got up to the bed.

"Calm down, Ivar," she grunted, looking at me. "I'll bleed. This... This is supposed to happen. Gimme a warm towel," she asked.

And I did what she said, seeing when she placed it over her belly.

"I want you to place another in the middle of my legs, over the bed, ignore the blood, Ivar... Just... Place it over it."

Again, I did what she said, confused.

"Ivar," she called, causing me to look at her. "I want you to stay where you are. And when our child comes... You'll hold it, did you hear me?"

H... Hold it?

"You mean..." I moved my hands, looking at her.

"Take off your... gloves!" Another word grunted and I saw her pushing as something started showing up in her entrance.

And for a moment I was totally taken by that vision at the same time magic and bizarre, intense and terrifying.

My child would be born... And I would be the first one to hold it into this world.

That mix of feelings took me as I was removing my gloves, washing my hands on the water to get them clean.

What I was doing was more than I ever thought I was able to do. But what she was doing there, facing all that pain to bring my dream into this world...

What were all the fights we had?

What was the anger we had against each other?

What was everything in the face of all that love?

I raised my face to look at her. My sweaty, tired, and panting wife, putting all her efforts on pushing our child out of her belly, into this world. Her whole strength, focused only on making my dream become reality.

If she was strong enough to face all that pain for me, then I could face my fears for her.

"It's coming!" she warned, and I approached as she started pushing one more time, allowing me to support our child's head, watching as its whole body slowly came out from her body entirely, finally permitting her to sigh in relief as a strange bag of blood and meat came out as well, connected to our child by the cord.

"Oh, gods..." she cursed, relaxing in bed. "What is it, Ivar? How is my child?" she questioned.

But I was too wondered, astonished, looking at the baby moving in my hands, bothered by the air, by the temperature, by the mere sound of my breath - all new things he wasn't prepared for yet.

"Ivar?" She called, worried.

The fear growing in her voice again just to die completey when her eyes found my image, hands bathed in her blood I was now completely able to ignore, holding our child over that wet and warm towel we placed under her legs.

"It's a boy," I muttered, teary.

And our voices seemed to bother him even more because my son's forehead frowned and his voice could be heard a quarter further away from that house in such a strong cry I could never describe with my own words.

It was alive, full of strength, experimenting life for the first time...

In my hands.

I giggled, completely taken by that experience as Y/N showed me how to cut the cord, clean our baby with the towel, gently packing him in a dry towel so she could bring him against her chest, offering him the breast he accepted in goodwill, hungrily suckling from her.

I watched that scene in awe.

It was Frigg herself, with Baldr in her arms. My own goddess with our child against her chest, the product of her womb, the fruit of our love.

"We've heard the cry of a... Oh, gods... It's here, Floki!" I've heard Helga's voice and I knew she arrived at the bedroom's door such as Floki also arrived, too late to help. Soon enough to see the same wonder I was watching now.

I felt his heavy hand landing on my shoulder, but I didn't want to take my eyes from my beautiful Y/N with our son in her arms, to look at his teary eyes.

"Welcome to the boat of the ones who have already seen the gods, son," he mumbled, giggling that characteristic way of his to laugh.

But I smiled bigger, looking at Y/N who smiled back at me.

She was sweaty, covered in blood, and tired. But I was sure I would never see a woman more beautiful in the whole Miðgarðr.

"No, my friend... I didn't see the gods. A goddess lays in my bed every night. And she produced life as a gift to me."

Floki giggled again. I was speaking of his daughter after all.

But at that moment, all I could think was that if being whole was the best thing in this world, it should feel exactly like the feeling I had in my chest by looking at Y/N.

Do you like my work? Support me!

Tagged ones:

|| @bluearchersstuff​ || @ivarswickedqueen​ || @directionlessbuthappy​ || @akamaiden​ || @bang-kim-bap​ || @cris101071​ || @elysias-temple​ || @alicedopey​ || @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla​ || @lol-haha-joke​ || @readsalot73​ || @rekdreams247​ || @naaladareia​ || @laketaj24​ || @therealcalicali​ || @grungyblonde​ || @arses21434​ || @honestsycrets​ || @2thequietone4​ || @blackspiritshake​ || @vikingsbifrost​ || @wallabieswisher​ || @lyanna-the-giantsbane​ || @chinduda​ || @isthat-tyra98​ || @xinyourdreamsx​ || @thiahilmarsdottir​ || @queenbeeta​ || @winchesterwife27​ || @gold-dragon-slayer​ || @mzliterarydreamer​ || @youbloodymadgenius​ || @marvelouuse​ || @tgrrose​ || @lif3snotouttogetyou​ || @lordsexmachine​ || @deathbyarabbit​ || @ietss​ || @thorins-queen-of-erebor​ || @didiintheblog || @h-e-a-v-y-l-e-a-t-h-e-r​ || @heavenly1927​ || @alexhandersenx​ || @alexisshoto​ || @letsloveimagines​

Want to be tagged? Ask me!

[deancas-fanfiction]

A Daydream Away

Chapter 2/?

Summary: After multiple couples go missing from a resort in northern Minnesota, Dean and Cas are forced to pose as a couple to investigate the mysterious entity. As Dean and Cas navigate their fake relationship, it leaves Dean questioning what's real and forces him to confront his feelings for Cas.

A story in which Cas is human, Dean is sometimes an idiot, and Sam acts as matchmaker.

Tags: fake relationship, case fic, sharing a bed, human!cas, Sam ships Dean and Cas, fluff, eventual smut

available on ao3 Read Ch. 1 here

Dean began to slowly stir from sleep. For the first time in years, he awoke feeling well-rested. No pounding headache from the aftershock of a hangover, no repressed memories rattling in his head from a recurring nightmare, and there was no dry feeling in his eyes from sleeping only a few hours. Instead, he felt warm and relaxed as he began to regain consciousness. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking away the sleep as he took in his surroundings. Morning sun hazily streamed in through the gaps in the curtains and it was perfectly still and quiet. Dean sighed in content and went to roll over to fall back asleep. Except a weight on his chest prevented him from moving.

Dean tensed, realizing Cas was lying across him. His head was resting in the crook of his neck and his arm was flung over his chest in an almost possessive like manner. His right leg was intertwined with Dean's, sufficiently entangling the two so Dean couldn't easily tear himself away. Cas' breath softly fanned against his neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake. As if all of that wasn't bad enough, Dean quickly remembered they were both nearly naked, wearing nothing but their boxer briefs. This meant their bare skin was pressed together and that there was only a very thin material of fabric protecting Dean from a very embarrassing situation. He closed his eyes at that thought and focused on his breathing to calm himself down.

It was at that moment that Cas began to stir. Dean silently cursed whatever entity was at fault for this awkward situation he was about to be in. Cas flexed his fingers and he tightened his grip on Dean rather than pulling away in alarm, as he had expected.

"Uh Cas?"

"Hmmph."

"Buddy, I gotta go to the bathroom. Would you let up?" Dean tried peeling Cas' arm off him with that request but was unsuccessful.

"No."

Okay, so Cas was a totally unabashed cuddler. Dean added it to the mental list of social norms that Cas hasn't exactly picked up on yet. He internally groaned as Cas remained plastered to him. As Cas' breathing once again evened out and he fell back asleep, Dean's mind began to race.

He's always been the kind of guy that either completely ignored or repressed the hell out of complicated manners in his life. First, it was his sexuality. It was years of him ignoring his attraction to men and assuring himself it was completely normal for a guy to have a crush on other guys until he finally admitted to himself that yeah, okay maybe he's not all that straight. While it was freeing to finally admit it, he was bitter for denying himself that ability to explore that aspect of his life for so long. Then there were another few years of admitting his sexuality but refusing to actually admit it out loud to anyone. When he finally told Sam just a few years ago and was met with a "yeah, I know Dean," he realized that he did it again. He deprived himself of the happiness of being his true self. He delayed his own happiness due to his own insecurities and hang-ups.

Since they literally defeated God, Dean promised himself that he was done with delaying his own happiness. It was kind of a (for lack of a better term) come-to-Jesus type of moment. He literally died multiple times in the last fifteen years alone and it wasn't until that moment that he truly realized life is short and that he should make the best of it. Of course, it's now a lot easier to do that when there's no world-ending apocalypse or imminent battle with Heaven looming overhead.

While this new outlook on life was pretty great, it has certainly complicated things. Another thing Dean repressed the hell out of was his relationship with Cas. While Cas refers to it as a 'profound bond,' or whatever, Dean has a harder time labeling it. It's obvious they have a different relationship than Cas and Sam do, but it's just so damn confusing when he allows himself to think about it.

He just wishes that Cas was a little more transparent regarding what was going on inside his mind. With time, Dean has improved at reading his minimal facial expressions. The slight upward tick of his lips showed his amusement. His signature head tilt™ meant confusion or curiosity. The furrow of his brows indicated frustration and if accompanied with the head tilt it meant he was about to smite someone. The last time Dean saw that look, it was directed at him and Sam when they may have gotten Jack just a little bit drunk. But really, they couldn't be blamed. It was the night before they took on Chuck, and they were all under the impression it was their last night on Earth. Anyone else would have done the same thing. Well, except Eileen who signed "told you he'd be mad," with a smug look on her face. But that's not the point.

Regardless, Dean had gotten quite good at reading Cas. However, there was still a lot he didn't know. Sometimes Cas would look at him with an expression that was so foreign to Dean that he had no idea how to catalogue it. And it confused the hell out of him. Sometimes the expression would be so soft that Dean would entertain the idea that maybe Cas felt the same way as Dean does. But that look would be gone as quickly as it appeared, and Dean would convince himself he was projecting.

Dean sighed as his thoughts continued to spiral, unable to stop them. Instead, a loud pounding at the front door startled him, bringing him back to the present. Cas jolted awake as the pounding continued. He had a light flush on his cheeks as he removed himself from Dean.

His hair was sticking out in every direction, reminding Dean of that night in the barn when they officially met for the first time. He  wondered what sex hair would look like on Cas, if that's just what his regular hair looks like in the morning. Dean shook his head, effectively stopping that train of thought before it could spiral out of control. The pounding continued, more incessantly this time.

"Who the hell..." Dean grumbled, forcing himself out of bed. He threw on his discarded shirt from the floor and made his way through the living room to the front door. He swung the door open and was met with Sam's annoyed expression. "What are you --"

"Jesus, Dean. Do you plan on actually working the case or are you just going to sleep all day?" Sam brushed past Dean and brushed snow off his jacket.

"What are you talking about? What time is it even?"

"Nearly nine, Dean." He said, pulling his best bitch face. "They stop serving breakfast at 10. I thought you were going to interview guests this morning."

"Well, yeah. We were just getting ready to leave, so chill." Sam looked unimpressed and walked past Dean to the bedroom. Cas was still sitting in bed, blinking away sleep with the blankets pulled around him, effectively proving Dean wrong. "Oh, you were just getting ready to leave? Then why does Cas look like he just woke up?"

"I -- don't you have an interview to prepare for?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I already had it. I start later today."

"That soon?" Cas asked, his voice gravelly and rough from sleep and oh. That sound went straight to Dean's groin.

"Yeah. They're really short staffed. From what I gathered, quite a few employees quit after the last couple went missing a few days ago. It seems like they were pretty freaked out. So now they're really short staffed and pretty desperate."

"Oh, so that's why they hired you," Dean jokes. "They're desperate."

Sam just looked unimpressed. "For the love of God, would you two just get ready and go to breakfast? We have no leads and I need you to talk to the guests. When I'm at the desk this afternoon, I'll sign you up for some activities so you can talk to more guests."

Dean opened his mouth to argue that hey, he's perfectly capable of signing up for his own activities but Sam shot him a look that stopped him in his tracks. "I'll make sure you're signed up for the bourbon tasting, if that's what you're worried about."

"I knew I could count on you, Sammy," Dean grinned. With that, Sam shook his head and headed out of the cabin.

It took equal parts pleading and the promise of coffee to coax Cas out of the warmth of the bed and out into the cold so they could make it to breakfast in time. The morning brought with it a light snowfall, so Dean had to quickly brush the Impala off before driving the short distance to the main lodge where breakfast was served.

Dean and Cas waved to Brenda as they passed the front desk and waited in line to check in at the host stand. Breakfast was served in the form of a buffet with a wide variety of items offered. Dean gave the hostess their cabin number and headed straight to the eggs and bacon. He loaded up his plate while Cas grabbed waffles and coated them with syrup and whipped cream.

"You should be grateful you married me instead of Sam," Dean declared, taking a large bite of bacon as he scanned the room for an open table. "He would have lectured you for all of the sugar you're loading up on."

Cas tilted his head, seemingly thinking that over. "Yes, I suppose you're right. I don't think Sam and I would be very compatible on a lot of fronts."

Dean, meanwhile, flushed at the possible implication that he and Cas are compatible. Cas didn't seem to notice and directed his attention towards a table where a young couple were sitting, enjoying their breakfast. "Should we sit with them? Maybe they could tell us something about the couple that went missing."

"Yeah, okay. It will also get Sam off our back for a few hours." Dean followed Cas as he approached the table.

"Mind if we join you?" Cas asked, good natured. "My husband, here, overslept this morning and it seems we arrived for breakfast at the busiest time."

Dean glared at Cas for throwing him under the bus when it was actually the other way around, but there was no heat to it. In reality, his stomach did that weird swooping thing when Cas referred to him as "his husband."

"Of course!" The young woman smiled at them over her glass of orange juice. "I'm Amy, and this is my fiancé Jake."

"Nice to meet you," Dean turned on his most charming smile. "I'm Dean, this is Cas. We just arrived last night and had no idea breakfast would be so busy."

Amy laughed and shook her head. "We experienced the same thing. We found that arriving at 8:30 is the sweet spot. It's right between the early and late risers."

"Another tip: if you arrive early enough, they have cinnamon rolls. They always run out by 8:00." Jake added.

"We'll definitely remember that. Cas has a sweet tooth, as you can tell by his side of waffles he got with his syrup." Dean joked. Cas just rolled his eyes and happily ate his sugar infused breakfast. "How long have you two been here?"

"Five days," Amy chirped. "We're getting married this summer, so we wanted to have a relaxing vacation just the two of us before things get too crazy with last minute wedding planning."

"We know how that goes. We ended up having a small wedding because the planning got to be too much work for us." Cas paused and chewed thoughtfully. "Wait - so you've been here for a few days. Does that mean you were here when that couple went missing?" Truthfully, Dean was impressed by Cas' nonchalance. While his social skills have significantly improved since becoming human, there were still times that Cas had some social awkwardness. It was endearing as hell but could make working a case a little difficult. But Cas seemed to be holding his own rather well.

Jake and Amy exchanged a look. "Yeah, we actually did a cooking class with Kevin and Raymond. They were so nice and were here on their honeymoon. No one seems to have any idea what happened."

"Did you notice anything weird?"

"No," Jake answered, furrowing his brows. "Like Amy said, they were really nice and gave us a lot of great wedding advice."

"Yeah, they weren't planning on leaving for another few days, so when they were suddenly gone it didn't make sense."

"We thought they had a family emergency and had to leave early or something, but then we heard they were actually missing. It's so sad."

"Did you do any other activities with them?"

Amy smiled wistfully. "Other than the cooking class, we only did the bourbon tasting with them. I have quite the bourbon collection at home, as did Kevin so we talked a lot about that. The tasting was the last we saw of them."

Dean nodded, and steered the conversation towards bourbon and scotch, not wanting to raise any suspicion by asking too many questions.

After finishing their breakfast, Cas grabbed a to-go cup of coffee and they meandered back outside. With the fresh snowfall, the grounds looked serene and absolutely beautiful. A blanket of untouched snow coated the ground, sparkling in the sun.

"Want to explore the grounds a little?" Dean asked. "It may be a good idea to get a good feel of the layout."

"Yeah, I'd like that." Cas smiled in return and pulled his hat over his ears. The wind wasn't biting like it was the night before, but it was still December in Minnesota meaning it was fucking cold. Dean shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and followed the path around the lodge. This led to a large staircase down to the lakeside. Christmas lights were strung along the railing and there was a bonfire roaring near the lakeside, which was tended to by a few guests. Dean and Cas slowly made their way down the staircase, breathing in the crisp fresh air and enjoying the scenery.

Cas quickly finished his coffee and tossed it in a nearby trash can. Then he shoved his hands in his jacket, unsuccessfully trying to suppress a shiver. Dean fondly rolled his eyes at him and held out his hand.

"Give me your hand." He ordered. Cas looked at him questioningly but complied, nonetheless. Dean took his hand and shoved it in his pocket with his own. "Jesus, your hand is freezing."

Now it was Cas' turn to roll his eyes. "I had to finish my coffee," he reasoned.

"We need to buy you gloves."

"I'm fine, Dean."

"No, your hand feels like ice. Sometimes you forget you're human and actually need to worry about things like that."

"That's not true."

"Sure, it is," Dean snorted. "Within your first few days of being human you were dehydrated because you forgot to drink water regularly."

"You forget to drink water regularly, Dean."

Dean paused. "Okay, you have me there. But you also wore your suit and trench coat in 90-degree heat on that case in Arizona. We were in the desert and you were wearing like 4 layers."

Cas lips turned up at the corner. "Okay, you have me there." He echoed. "To be fair, I am getting better. I now dress 'weather appropriate' as Sam puts it."

"Yes, you do. I'm just sure being human takes some getting used to. But in the meantime, you need to let Sam and I help you out." Dean squeezed Cas' hand for emphasis, which was now at a much warmer temperature.

In response Cas smiled his full, blinding smile which made Dean feel warm despite the cold. "Thanks for letting me stay with you both at the bunker."

At that, Dean felt a pang of guilt. He completely mishandled the situation last time Cas was human and that was something he would never forgive himself for. "Cas, I'm sorry for --"

"No, don't apologize. I understand why you did that. You were saving Sam's life. I didn't mean to dredge that up. I just wanted to express my gratitude for allowing me to stay with you."

"You're family, Cas. We stick together." And just like that his blinding smile was back, with a certain softness in his eyes that Dean had trouble interpreting.

They now reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped at the fire to quickly warm themselves. Dean and Cas asked the few guests milling around the fire about Raymond and Kevin, but none of them had any information about the missing couple. Half of them weren't even staying at the resort when the disappearance occurred. After making a few minutes of small talk, they said their good-byes and headed back to the Impala. The cold officially seeped through their winter layers and Dean could feel his feet turning numb.

The walk back to the car was very quick and at last Dean was starting Baby and blasting the heat. He sighed in relief as warmth fanned over his red face.

"We should probably call Sam before he arrives back for work and tell him we haven't had any luck yet."

"Yeah, good thinking," Dean agreed as he pulled out of the parking spot. Cas dug out his phone and dialed Sam's number, putting it on speaker so they could both hear.

"Hey, Cas." Sam answered cheerfully. "What's up?"

Cas dutifully explained their lack of progress on the case and the dead end with the guests. "I know we haven't spoken to more than a handful of them, but I fear it will be the same with all of the guests. What are your thoughts?"

Sam hummed in thought. "I called the local law enforcement this morning while you were at breakfast, posing as a journalist and they said the same thing -- none of the guests had any helpful information. Maybe we need to switch tactics."

"What are you thinking? Cas and I pose as agents?" Dean questioned as he turned onto the gravel road leading to their cabin.

"No, law enforcement already spoke to the resort staff and they didn't get anywhere. I doubt it would be any different with federal agents." He paused as he thought for a moment. "Maybe you two should just really lean heavily into the whole married couple thing and focus on luring whatever it is that took the other couples."

"We're already doing that," Dean responded.

"No, I know. But I mean lean into it. Act so sickeningly in love so you become the obvious target. I'll see if I can get any other information from the staff, but I think that's our best angle at this point. Like I said, I'll sign you up for some couple activities over the next few days and you just need to act like you're madly in love with each other."

"Will you sign us up for the cooking class?" Cas asked. "Jake and Amy mentioned they took that class with Raymond and Kevin before they disappeared."

"Yes, I can do that. Stop by the desk after lunch and I can give you your itinerary. But I gotta go -  I have to be at the resort in less than an hour."

"Are you sure that'll be enough time to style your hair?"

"Fuck off Dean," Sam retorted humorously. "I'll see you guys later."

Cas said goodbye and slid his phone back in his pocket.

Dean chanced a glance over at Cas as they pulled up to their cabin. His brow was furrowed and he was staring out the windshield with a faraway look on his face.

"What's on your mind, buddy?"

Cas' eyes flashed in frustration. "If we're going to make people believe this is real," He said, gesturing between them. "You should probably stop referring to me as 'buddy.' Married couples don't refer to each other as such."

"Right. Sorry." Dean chewed on his lip. Cas was right. If this plan was going to work, they would have to adjust a few aspects of their friendship, this being one of them. "That's a good point. I think we were just fine this morning, but like Sam said, we need to really lean into it. So we'll have to step up our game."

"What do you suggest, we become more physical?"

Dean flushed at the implications. "Uh -- yeah, I suppose. We could hold hands more," He suggested.

Cas nodded. "Or I could put my arm around your shoulder."

"Exactly. Just do what you see other couples doing. Really, we should be fine. Once Sam signs us up for all of the couple’s activities it will be even easier to act the part."

"What about kissing?"

"What about it?" Dean's face was flaming at this point. He shifted in the seat to get a good look at Cas.

"Should we do it? Other couples do it, and it may be odd if we don't." Cas tilted his head, studying Dean's expression. "Unless that makes you uncomfortable?"

"What? N-no, not at all." Quite the opposite, actually. "I mean -- that's fine, Cas. If it feels necessary for the case, then we can, um, kiss." Dean could not believe he was actually having this conversation. He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to get his shit together. "Just do what feels natural, alright?"

"Alright." Cas agreed.

"So, we have a few hours until we have to be back at the lodge to meet with Sam. Want to see if there’s anything good on tv?”

A big smile took over Cas' face at the suggestion and he nodded in agreement. They got out of the car and made their way inside the cabin. The fresh snow crunched under each footstep but otherwise it was silent. Once they were back inside the warmth of the cabin, Cas took off towards the bedroom and muttered something about getting a blanket while Dean collapsed onto the couch.

He turned on the television and began searching through the channels, waiting for something to catch his eye. Within seconds he heard Cas’ light footsteps in the hall. He looked up just as he came into sight. Cas had their large comforter in his hands, but Dean was distracted by what he was wearing.

"Are those my sweatpants?"

Cas looked down, almost sheepishly. "Oh. Yes. You always tell me that jeans are not proper attire for movie nights. I assume the rule applies even if it's daytime, so I changed. I didn't bring any loungewear, so I borrowed yours. Is that alright?"

He eyed the pants which hung low on Cas' hips. It left a small sliver of tan skin exposed and Dean could see the sharp line of his hip bones. He inhaled sharply and forced his eyes back to Cas' face. "Yes, Cas. That's alright."

Cas' lips turned up at the corners and he flopped onto the couch next to Dean. He pulled the large blanket over the two of them and sat just close enough that Dean could feel the heat coming off of him, but they weren’t quite touching.

Since becoming human, Cas has taken to borrowing Dean’s clothes. After Dean convinced him to try on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, Cas realized just how uncomfortable the suit and tie ensemble was. With that in mind, he began sneaking into Dean’s room and would snag a band shirt and sometimes a flannel, dressing like he’s a Winchester himself.

The first time he saw him in his clothes Dean nearly had an aneurysm. He had grown so accustomed to Cas in his suit and shapeless coat that seeing him in jeans that hugged his ass with the sleeves of his flannel rolled up his forearms was an immediate turn on. Maybe it was also the fact that they were Dean’s clothes on him that caused such a problem. Regardless, Dean abandoned his breakfast to immediately take a cold shower.

And now, seeing him in his own sweatpants that perfectly hug his ass and hang low on his hips was painfully unfair. Dean readjusted himself, ignoring the heat pooling in his gut. Now was not the time for inappropriate boners. He internally groaned and tried to focus on the nature documentary Cas put on but was unsuccessful because at that moment Cas rested his head against Dean’s shoulder and let out a little sigh of content.

This is going to be a long and tortuous week for Dean because it's just pretend.

[nearen]

Baleful

Tick, tock. Tick.

Tock.

Only the percussive markers of the passing of time disturbed the anxious silence of the study. Four bells had already rang since he had first stepped into the room. There was only a single chair positioned behind a grand mahogany desk, and he daren’t sit down in it for even a moment. Nor could he be caught leaning up against one of the walls, on which were framed copies of holy scripture penned by some significant hand or another.

The cold and unyielding stare of Her Fury presided over the room above and behind the desk; an exquisite oil painting that melded a palette of frost white, glacier blue, and frigid violet into an ethereal depiction of the Goddess rearing up on a mythical, feathered steed to drive her lance into a foe unseen, conveniently obscured out of frame.

One was free to imagine the nature of the enemy. A fierce dragon, perhaps, or something more sporting—a dark god intent on a coup. A philosophical mind might propose that she was slaying injustice itself, and that the piece was but allegory. As the clergy would have it, Halone herself might have descended to smite heresy wholesale.

Alone, he had been free to ponder such frivolities. They took his mind off the other concerns, such as why his father had penned and left a letter demanding that he find him waiting in his study upon the turn of the eve. At first, panic found his heart beating near clean out of his chest. He couldn’t say he had covered his tracks well. They had already taken unconscionable measures to limit the scope of the scandal he could create, however.

If he wanted to, his father could have confined him to the estate on a permanent basis, or arrange an escort for him. That could be why he had called him there—to tell him he was going to. At least he would have had the opportunity to mentally prepare for it if that turned out to be the case. Part of him knew that the waiting was all a play to force him into this paranoid state of mind, yet that knowing the enemy’s strategy unfortunately doesn’t always render it ineffective.

He had missed dinner, not that he could’ve eaten a bite worrying over this matter anyway. His brother might have brought him scraps when he was younger, but he had been caught showing his sibling care once too often before and had grown bitter and resentful, blaming him rather than their father when he was caught and disciplined. No good deed goes unpunished. Come to think of it, their father had ever played them against one another.

The front door closed with a shudder that rocked the estate. He straightened his back sharply in preparation, like he’d been stood at attention the whole time. He couldn’t deny his curiosity—nor his unease—when he heard not one, but two voices echoing from the foyer. One sharp, clipped, cold, and curt. The other melodious, playful, coy. Little by little, both began to rang familiar in his ears, and dread’s cold fingers cast their grip around his heart.

Into the study stepped two sets of feet. He didn’t turn. “Here you are.” There was a measure of dull surprise to his father’s voice, and unfeeling approval. Of course no explanations were forthcoming for his tardiness. A father never apologised to his son, nor was he owed even so much as an excuse. Not that he needed one. He understood why it had taken so long.

“Here he is, yes,” sang a sweeter voice, one that to his ears rang of malice lathered in syrup. His tightening chest forced out a sharp breath. She brushed up alongside him, linking their arms at the elbow. He lowered his gaze as his father stepped behind the desk and sat down in the lavish chair behind it.

“Father. …my ladyship.”

In his customary manner, the elder of the three drew a breath and dug right into the heart of the matter. He already knew what was coming.

“It is time we set a date.”

[bottleofspilledink]

God’s Watching, Put on a Show || Chapter XVII

She was safe. She would live. All her friends were safe. All her friends would live.

For some reason, that knowledge only made her sob harder, clinging to Eve like a lost, helpless child. Her hands were shaking, her head was pounding, her lungs weren’t big enough to breathe with. Lilith swore she was seconds away from exploding.

After everything that had built over the day – dread and anguish and the ever-looming possibility of an even worse suffering making itself more present than it had in the longest time – she’s honestly surprised her heart didn’t pop like a balloon hours ago.

“You-” Lilith had to cough, sobs making it near impossible to breath, much less speak. “You promise you didn’t tell them anything? Eve, you-”

She coughed even harder and tried to wrench herself out of Eve’s hold, fearing she’d end up spilling her guts on the girl. But Eve’s grip on her remained strong, unfaltering, all of the things Lilith wasn’t right now. The most she was able to do was look down so her coughs and sputters wouldn’t hit the other.

“Eve, please tell me if you told them.” Another plea. How many times has she made those today? Not just to Eve but to all the world and everything that kept it turning, begging time to stop and things to go back to what they were before all this, before Eve, before that damn fire she just had to start.

“I didn’t tell them anything.” The blonde spoke, firm but gentle, calm despite the doubt thrown her way.

She’d do everything she could to erase that doubt from Lilith. After all, she knew what it was like, to beg for an answer you’d never receive, to fear, to doubt.

And she knew it was agony.

“I promise, Lilith.”

“Okay, o-okay, I-” Lilith nodded as much as she could with Eve still cupping her face, her hand going to rest atop the blonde’s as she did. She felt hysterical. She had every right to be. “I’m sorry, I- Joan. I need to go and- and I need to tell Joan we’re fine.”

Eve finally let go of her, nodding as well, understanding as can be, though the touch of their hands lingered even when brought away from Lilith’s cheek, slowly sliding apart. It was clear to both of them that neither wanted to let go and Lilith couldn’t help the queasy feeling that intensified in her gut when she realized that Eve was making a conscious effort to keep their hands touching for as long as they could.

This somehow was and wasn’t the girl who’d had a breakdown in the bathrooms mere days ago. Something had changed and it had changed so quick Lilith didn’t even realize it had happened till the change stood before her, revealing itself to ease her worries and dry her tears and promise her the secrecy she needed.

“Of course, you go do that.”

Lilith was already rising from the stone path, dusting off her skirts and picking tiny pebbles out of her pink, skinned knees, helping Eve up with her after dusting her hands off as well.

“I’ll meet you in the garden as soon as I’m done, I promise.”

Eve nodded, letting their hands slip apart once more. “I’ll be waiting.”

... 

Lilith was only now noticing the fatigue that plagued her, physical side effects of her stress, of her staying up all night to prepare for what might have happened, of her laying awake in bed, pondering the what ifs and already aching from a betrayal that had yet to happen, that hadn’t happened. But she pushed through it, needing to give her friends the same, sweet catharsis she’d been given mere moments ago.

Tears still clouded her eyes and she didn’t take the time to rub them away. Even blurry, the school’s hallways – now empty, everyone either in confession or in club – were something she knew like the back of her palm.

She hated that she knew this place so intimately, loathed how she’d memorized the place that caused her so much torment, out of habit, out of necessity.

But now wasn’t the time to think of that. Not when her feet were hitting the ground over and over again, her breathing ragged and forced, lungs not even remotely recovered from sobbing. She had to find Joan, find Paula, find somebody.

And she did.

Julia came into her line of sight, having just rounded the corner, coming from the direction of the chapel, coming from confession.

When she and Julia locked eyes, both of them halting immediately, there was a tense moment between them, fear-filled, Julia raising a brow, her silent way of asking the only question that mattered:

Did they have to leave? Now?

The girl saw Lilith’s red-rimmed eyes, the flush in her cheeks, partly stained by tears. It was evident to anyone who might’ve witnessed her that something had happened. But whether that something was good or bad would only be determined one the rise and fall of Lilith’s chest evened, when she no longer heaved, when God himself had stopped pulling the breath from her lungs to prolong Julia’s agony.

“Lilith, sweetheart, do-” The girl began but had to stop to take a breath herself, afraid of the answer as she stalked closer, cautious. She felt as if a nun would pop out from behind her friend any second now. Why else would she be running, crying? “Do we have to go?”

“No.” Lilith panted, at last looking up from the ground and combing her messed up hair out of her face, revealing a relieved but incredulous smile, shaky and a bit strange looking, though it wasn’t at all forced. “No, we don’t have to. Not yet.”

...

Eve slumped against the garden shed door the moment she’d put her apron on, her hands – the hands that had held Lilith’s, the very ones that had cupped her cheek and refused to let go, with the thumb that had wiped away her tears – went to clutch her rosary, nearly popping a button of her uniform off in her rush to fish it out of her shirt, having slipped into it.

She’d lied during a confession.

She’d committed sacrilege.

She’d hidden Lilith away from God.

She’d gone against the God that had made her, the God that had made Lilith, the God that had made the world and everything in it, the God almighty, the God that had the power to smite her at any moment, the God who could refuse her salvation, the God that could condemn her everlasting soul to the fiery pits of hell never ending…

The very same God that had refused to answer her, no matter how many times she’d asked for a sign, for forgiveness, for help. The God that had ignored her pleas and prayers. The God who had subjected her to this anguish in the first place, the God who had given her this trial, the God who had bestowed upon her a cross to heavy to bear.

And Eve would do it again. She had to, if she wanted what she did today to mean anything.

‘Ask and ye shall receive,’ they said. ‘Seek and ye shall find,’ they told her.

Well, Eve had done enough asking and seeking for a lifetime…

But maybe she had asked in the wrong places, maybe she needed to seek elsewhere.

Or maybe she just needed to try harder.

...

Lilith had arrived in the garden just in time to ease Eve’s own worries.

She was starting to think Lilith was a no-show, that the girl had simply left along with all of her friends. But she was here now, right in front of her, in the sinful flesh and back to her usual self, or the closest she could muster to that.

They were both tired. So, so tired…

Still, Lilith had taken her apron out of her bag, pristinely folded, walking over to her with a sort of tired tentativeness they both had no clue how she had the energy to muster.

“What are we going to do now?”

Eve couldn’t answer that question if she tried. Not with the truth, at least. Not with anything other than what she herself wanted the answer to be.

She answered it anyway.

“Let me help you with your apron.” Eve said softly. It was as if she was still trying to hide from God, the all-seeing, the omnipotent, trying to hide from her always there one-man audience, her one-man judge. It was in vain, of course, like most things she did nowadays. No matter how low her voice was, he would always be there.

It was hard to imagine Eve ever found comfort in that fact.

“Do you want to do that, though?” Lilith was whispering too.

Eve knew the other was a non-believer, a sinner, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she felt the need to hide too, even though she didn’t believe. Would it always be like this, for her, for the both of them? How could she even begin to dream of a world where she didn’t need to whisper when Lilith didn’t even have the courage to do it herself?

“Yes.�� Oh, she shouldn’t though. She really, really shouldn’t. “I want to help… will you let me?”

Lilith handed the apron to her, a soft, tired smile playing at her chapped lips.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

...

Lilith would let Eve do anything she wanted to as of right now, even if it would hurt her.

Her friends were safe, at the very least. They wouldn’t get involved, they wouldn’t get roped into the trouble she’d created for herself the same way they did when she started that fire, when she met Eve and allowed herself to love the other, despite the danger, despite the consequence, despite there being no chance of reward for all the risk she’d taken. And that was enough for her to be fine with the fact that Eve could kill her today, right here, right now, in the garden.

...

But Eve didn’t hurt Lilith. All she did was slide her lightly freckled hands in between the gap of Lilith’s arms and waist, letting her skin glide against the fabric of Lilith’s uniform, letting herself feel the skin of Lilith’s arms, letting herself feel the heat of Lilith’s flesh from under her uniform.

All she did was help with Lilith’s apron.

It was all she could allow herself to do.

She wanted to do more, though, so much more…

...

They were sitting when Eve did the waist of Lilith’s uniform, the piece that went over Lilith’s chest still flopping about her front with every shift of the ties around her middle.

“Lilith?” The girl spoke out at long last after one more pull of the red ribbon,

“Hm?”

“Give me the ties to the front, please.”

Lilith handed them back, arms bent a bit awkwardly as Eve shuffled about around her, shifting to her knees so she was taller than the girl she was helping.

As if there were magnets imbedded into their palms, their hands once again met, brushing against each other, soft and freckled skin meeting slightly calloused porcelain, Eve’s fingertips ghosting over the sides of Lilith’s neck, the back of her hand momentarily cradled in Lilith’s palm as she took the apron’s ties.

But there were no magnets. It was all them and their own will, their own want, their own whims, their own ungodly desires.

Eve’s ungodly desire.

“Thank you.”

What was Eve thankful for? Lilith had no clue. She’d be surprised to find out that not even Eve knew, at least not enough to explain. Was it her compliance, both to letting the girl tie the apron and handing her its ties? Was it her lack of questions, Lilith merely allowing her to do as she pleased without judgement, without expecting an explanation?

If Eve had the words and the courage to say it out loud, Lilith would find out and flush at the knowledge that Eve was thankful for her. Not just some of the individual parts that she was composed of. Not just what Lilith did. Eve was thankful for her, all of her, as a whole, and nothing less.

Just as Lilith was about to put her hair aside, Eve beat her to it, hands tentatively and tenderly gathering the fiery locks of hair, sweeping away the few strands that stuck to her nape before carefully swinging the bundle of hair over Lilith’s shoulder, setting about in tying the top part of the apron.

Her movements were slow, seemingly intentional, fingertips lingering only a little bit longer than what most could pass off as accidental, straddling the line between friendly and… flirtatious? No, that wasn’t exactly the correct term for whatever Eve was doing right now. She was still cautious, still careful enough that the way her touch lingering could be mistaken as an appropriate fondness, that is, if Lilith were any other girl.

Curious.

Eve’s touches were curious, experimental in nature and still a bit wary. As if touching Lilith for too long could burn her, as if there was a bomb imbedded in the nape of Lilith’s neck that was set to detonate if she dared to linger too long.

But she persisted despite that fear.

Eve’s touch and gaze and the warmth of her hand would linger, deliberate.

The way the girl tied Lilith’s apron showed this, clearly as day, the sides of her hand every so often sweeping across Lilith’s skin, the way she slowly, painstakingly turned what could have been a simple knot meant to fasten into a ribbon meant to draw the eye, nearly decorative despite its functionality. Really, you could have mistaken Eve for a second grader who’d just learned how to tie their shoelaces a day ago with how careful she was.

Still, one could not spend an eternity trying to tie a ribbon, no matter how much one would like to do so.

“All done.” Eve said, shuffling back a bit to put some distance between Lilith and her.

“So, what now?”

There was that dreaded question again, falling from Lilith’s mouth before she could even think, before she could do anything about it. If Eve’s careful movements betrayed her desire to touch Lilith, Lilith’s constant questions and unthinking compliance betrayed her hope that Eve would do more.

“Let’s check the whiteboard?” Eve said it more like a question than anything else, the little bravado she had dwindling, all tangled up in the strings of Lilith’s apron where it would stay for neither of them knew how long. “Veronica said she’d leave instructions for us there.”

Lilith nodded, standing up and offering a hand to Eve, still sitting on her knees.

Eve took it. She allowed herself to be pulled up by Lilith, from the deadweight of her legs, all pins and needles and numbness. Lilith didn’t allow her to fall, though, righting her with her free hand, a sturdy grip planting itself on the girl’s upper arm.

“You okay?” Lilith couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her as Eve looked on at her, utterly baffled. “Don’t pass out on me now, Eve. Do you need, like, a breather or something?”

“I-” She was willing to bet Lilith could feel her pulse, the other girl’s pale fingertips resting on her wrist, their hands still clasped together. “No, I’m fine. I just- My legs are asleep.”

How long had they been sitting on the grass? How long have they been doing this, merely sitting in each other’s company, touching hands, letting silence overtake them like moss on a stone wall?

How long could one take, tying a ribbon? Surely not an eternity. But as Eve wiggled her toes in her shoes, she can’t help but think they at least made it close to eternity. A lifetime, maybe?

Perhaps, one could tie a ribbon for eternity. If they so wished, if they so allowed themselves to.

Eve would make it a point to try and allow herself next time.

She’s already done so much allowing, what more was this? It was just tying the strings of a friend’s apron, it was just helping. And did the Lord not say they were to offer others help?

“Alright, um, fuck…”

It seemed that Lilith was also realizing they’d just spent what couldn’t have been a mere few minutes on getting ready for gardening as she helped Eve prop herself up on the garden shed’s exterior. Despite how she was now leaning against the hardwood like a ragdoll, Eve didn’t let go of Lilith’s hand.

“Look, Eve, we’ve had a long day and I honestly have no clue if we even have the time to get anything done. Like at all.” The girl said, letting out a small huff that was probably intended to be laughter. “I’m pretty sure I spent half of our club time running around the building and I have no clue what the hell you did while I was gone, but you look tired.” Lilith paled the moment she said that, backtracking a bit, worried, though Eve’s grip on her hand didn’t ease in the slightest. If anything, the girl seemed to cling to her even harder, fearing she’d go away, not only taking back her words but physically taking a step back.

“Not in a mean way! I’m not saying you look messed up or anything, I think you look really pretty right now and-” She cut herself off, wincing. Eve still held onto her hand. “Just… wanna go by the back and sit under a tree or something? Rest? I know you’re probably really excited to do garden stuff but-”

It was Eve’s turn to cut Lilith off this time. “I’m tired.” The blonde admitted, sighing as she stared deep into Lilith’s eyes. “Like really, really tired. If you’re gonna go sit under a tree for however long we have left, I wanna come with you.”

Who knew disobeying the church would be so taxing? Who knew hiding your friend from the wrath of God despite most likely being in line to receive it yourself would be so exhausting? Certainly not Eve. She’d never planned to do anything of the sort. Ever. Not even once.

But she did.

And she was going to have to do it for the remainder of the school year…

The mere thought of that was draining, too. Perhaps God was trying to suck the life out of her now, before she could further violate any other of his sacraments, before she could commit sacrilege again. Probably not, though.

Eve imagined getting the life pulled from her body would hurt more, though.

And she just felt heavy. Extremely so.

Maybe instead of outright killing her, God was slowly turning her to stone, like the statues of saints that lines the chapel, making a monument out of her, an example to any of the future girls who would come her, a warning not to sin lest you end up another one of the church’s statues.

But that would hurt, too… wouldn’t it?

Eve hoped it would. It would get some of the eternal suffering her soul would face in hell out of the way, at least. Though maybe having your body turned to stone wasn’t the same sort of ache as getting your soul burned in the fiery pits.

Either way, nothing would make her ache like Lilith had.

“You wanna crawl over to the trees or do you feel like just sitting back down here again?”

“Trees, definitely.” Eve answered, though laughed and continued. “But I don’t need to crawl! I just need to wiggle my toes a little more and then the feeling will come back.”

Lilith nodded and laughed as well, loud like always, leaning on the shed in solidarity, parallel to Eve, both of them facing each other.

“Okay, how numb is it on a scale of one to ten?”

Eve raised a brow at the question, trying to think but came up empty and shrugged at the other girl. “Okay, like, if I put a pebble in your shoe, would you feel it? Like at all?”

That, at least, made a bit more sense to her.

“I can feel my toes and the middle part of my foot vaguely but my ankles are done for and I think they’ll break if I put any weight on them.” She said after about a second of pause. “I would feel a pebble but… I also wouldn’t? It would feel like pressure but not much else.”

A few more minutes of wiggling her toes later, Eve was finally able to take her weight off the shed and place them back on her feet, giving an experimental half-step and grinning when she only slightly stumbled.

...

Lilith plopped herself down by the very roots of the apple tree, letting her head hit the bark as she sighed and stretched and looked upwards, finding the tree still in bloom, various shades of delicious red hanging above her.

The only thing over their heads were the apples, the tree’s leaves, and the scarce, light clouds that littered the sky. It should have been serene, tranquil. But when she looked at Eve and saw the expression on her face, Lilith would be lying if she said she didn’t fear for her safety.

The other girl’s face was completely blank, unreadable. That worried her.

Lilith knew she shouldn’t be.

Eve had already done so much, hiding her during confession, not ratting her out upon learning she’d started the fire. She even kept quiet about the afternoon they almost kissed.

Though she couldn’t help but wonder if Eve would be able to do this again, resist years of programming and propaganda and biblical brainwashing in order to keep her and her friends safe, go against what she thought she needed for herself, go against what she thought she needed to do to get into heaven, to save her soul.

Still, Lilith forced those thoughts from her head as Eve carefully lowered herself to the ground, fixing her skirt as she sat next to her.

She had to have faith.

She had to put her faith in Eve.

...

Looking at the sky, it would have been a perfect day for most. Or a normal day, at least. To say Eve didn’t exactly get that today was an understatement. No matter how scenic everything was – barely a cloud over their heads, the few that were there all light and airy – she couldn’t help the underlying guilt that bubbled and boiled in her gut.

The reality of it all had sunk in earlier, before Lilith arrived, but it seemed now that it hadn’t hit rock bottom yet, the gravity of what she had just done continuing to dawn on her as the minutes stretched on by.

And here she thought she’d already reached a conclusion about all this.

Eve was angry at God and she disobeyed and she hid Lilith from him, from her rightly deserved penance. Was it rightly deserved? What sins did Lilith commit? She’s not entirely sure. Maybe Lilith’s done everything at this point. There was the fire. There was the stealing from the library.

There was Lilith’s homosexuality… and there was the matter of her inspiring homosexuality in others.

There was her being a non-believer.

There was her creating doubt in others.

It wasn’t a sin to be tempted.

It was a sin to act on temptation.

Why was Eve telling herself all this?

“I heard they’re gonna make us harvest these.”

“Hm?” She hummed, Lilith’s voice pulling her from her thoughts.

The other girl only smiled at her and pointed a finger upward. “Look up a bit.” Eve did as Lilith asked and was tempted to let out a bitter laugh.

Of course.

They were sat under a fucking apple tree, of all things.

The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on Eve, no matter how much she wished it. What was Lilith trying to tell her? Was the other actively trying to rub it in her face, the things she’s done, the sins she’s committed, how she’d convinced Eve to go along with her?

No, Lilith wasn’t mean like that… was she?

“What about the apples?”

The girl only laughed at Eve’s confusion, correct in the assumption she probably didn’t understand what she’d told her mere seconds ago. “I said, I heard they were going to make us harvest these.”

“Oh! Oh yeah, I’m pretty sure we are.” Eve nodded along as she finally got with the program.

Lilith wasn’t being mean after all.

“We’re supposed to harvest them in October if I remember right. I’m pretty sure it’s one of the club activities. Remember that sale veronica was talking about?”

“Oh yeah, that… so, what are we gonna tell Veronica when she asks why the hell we didn’t get this weeks tasks done?”

Eve paused for a moment, thinking, eyes shifting as if the answer could be found hanging on the trees or spelled out in the sky with the clouds. It wasn’t too ridiculous a notion. It couldn’t be, if that’s how she found the answer, her eyes landing on the church’s belltower and the cross that stood atop it.

“We can just say that we took too long during confession so we weren’t able to make it to club.”

Lilith gasped in mock scandal, putting a hand to her heart. “Lie? Miss Eve Peccator, you want me to lie to our dearest, fellow club members?”

“Not up to it?” Eve played along, knowing the other was only trying to crack a joke. It did make her wince a bit though… The girl snorted, tossing her head back and letting it hit the tree bark. “Hell no, I’m fucking down!”

It was after a few more seconds of laughter between the two of them that silence had once again settled, giving them both much needed time to think. Lilith and Eve sat barely inches apart, side by side, legs outstretched and touching, just like that day in the bathroom.

Today really did look pretty.

It’s a shame it couldn’t feel pretty, too.

Eve would give so many things to get rid of the coil in her gut, to be empty, well and truly devoid of emotion, of thoughts and responsibilities and wishes and wants and desires and desires and desires. Oh so many desires…

She’d give just about anything to be as pure and picturesque as a painting right now.

What she’d done, and now, what she was planning to do, loomed over her like the church’s belltower had, like the stares of the statues populating it. Eve knew what she would have to do to make her sacrifice mean anything in the long run. She would have to keep lying. She would have to keep sinning. She would have to, time and time again, disobey God.

Was this something her soul would ever be able to recover from? How many botched confessions and lies and sins could she rack up before she had enough for every step down to hell?

And would salvation be worth it, if it meant the damnation of another?

The longer she thought about it, the more it seemed like nothing she did would matter, like anything and everything was a sin. The guilt in her gut morphed into a strange sort of nihilism. It was the kind of carelessness that filled you after too long of caring too much, the kind of carelessness that came after a hard cry. A carelessness brought on by exhaustion.

After all, who would ever find out if she indulged her curiosities a bit? Yes, God would know but who else? Was there anyone listening that could hurt her, in this life, in this moment?

“Lilith…” Eve whispered, voice hardly above the blowing of the breeze. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.” The other girl’s tone was devoid of anything that could be perceived as judgement but she still couldn’t help being a tad apprehensive, a tad tentative.

Nothing good ever came from asking questions. At least, not the questions she would be asking.

“You don’t believe in God, do you?”

Eve was fairly sure she knew Lilith’s answer to this, though the girl had never outright told her she was an atheist. She had to be. Either that or she was one of those false Christians. But Lilith didn’t seem to by the type to do anything half-way, her headstrong and stubborn personality polarizing.

“I can’t say I believe in much of anything, really.”

That… Eve didn’t really know what to make of that answer. Sure, there were other religions and that was all fine and dandy though they were wrong, technically speaking, but how could one just believe in nothing?

“Alright. Can I ask you something else?”

Lilith gave a soft laugh at that, nodding out of the corner of her eye. The girl always seemed so amused when indulging her. Was anything about this remotely funny? Or was it just her?

“You can ask me as many things as you like, Eve.”

That sounded a bit like how one would talk to a child.

It made Eve a bit upset, to think that Lilith found her funny to some extent. Would that be why she stayed around, as if to gawk and giggle at an exhibition.

But Lilith was never cruel to her.

Unlike God and whoever else was watching, Lilith never pointed or jeered or added to her suffering, at least not intentionally, to create a better show, to further entertain the audience.

“If you don’t believe in God…” Eve stopped for a second and took a deep breath. Did she really want this? So many had warned her from seeking things she wasn’t fit to know, from seeking knowledge.

Would she ever be able to go back to the way things were, even after Lilith was gone, if she knew the answer to this?

“How can you just not believe in God? Any God? Lilith, I-”

She took another deep breath. This wasn’t the time to be hysterical, to bombard the other with questions. Eve would have to ask for things one at a time if she hoped for an answer to everything.

“Aren’t you curious about how this all came to be? About how I was created and how you were created and how the land you walk on and the air you breathe came to be?”

Try as she might, Eve couldn’t help the sort of panic that seeped into her questions. How could one just not believe in God? And so easily, too. Even worse, if someone could just live life and be happy while not believing in anything or striving for some sort of salvation, what was she doing all this for? What was the point of her restraint and her denying herself if other people were just going to live as they pleased? Getting to heaven?

Lilith shrugged, eyes shifting about languidly, not in search of an answer.

How could one do that? Merely be content with how things were and never ask how or why? But then again, maybe Lilith had already done her asking.

Eve continued on with hers.

“But you have to believe in something.” The concept of Lilith not believing in Catholicism was one thing, but her not having a God at all was something else entirely. “We all have faith, don’t we? Where’s yours?”

A moment of silence passed.

She asked again. “Where’s your faith, Lilith?”

This time, she finally got an answer. “In you.” Lilith turned to face her and, as if to make it undeniable to them both, she said it again.

It was like a prayer, like a plea. But what was a prayer if not a plea to someone who wasn’t listening, a plea to someone who wasn’t even there?

“I put my faith in you, Eve.”

In response, Eve only nodded, looking everywhere except her one worshipper. Her brown eyes, so of the earth, so sinful, shifted to above them, gaze locking in some sort of imaginary contest with one of the apples hanging overhead.

It teased her.

It taunted her.

It tempted her.

And at long last, she broke the silence and starred elsewhere, still not at the girl beside her, though she still lost to the apple that dangled just a little out of reach.

“Lilith?”

“Yeah?”

“Lie on my lap.” Eve said, never once looking at the girl beside her.

She would be able to do plenty of that when Lilith complied. If she complied. “Please.”

Eve didn’t think herself a selfish person, or even a particularly forceful one, but she felt as if she might die if Lilith denied her this. Of everything the other girl had been to her, yet another unanswered prayer wasn’t part of the list. Thankfully. She didn’t need to add any more of those into the pile.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Lilith nod, could hear the grass shift, could hear her skirt shift before the gentle weight of Lilith’s head carefully, tentatively settled into her lap.

She dared to look down for a moment, relieved to find Lilith’s gaze elsewhere, face not towards her torso.

Good.

Eve wanted this with everything she had in her, the little remaining energy she had left all devoted to Lilith. But having the girl face her, look at her, was too much to bear.

Would she ever be able to face her desires, sick and twisted as they were? Would she ever be able to face her desires, even the purest of them?

Were any of her desires even truly pure?

Or did her desires reflect her? Sinful and dirty.

Could anyone even claim to be pure in their desires?

The desire for anything that wasn’t base – food and water and air and life – and the desire for anything that wasn’t God was impure on principal.

Lilith broke the line of questions forming in Eve’s mind as, after a moment of silence, spoke.

“Like this?” Her voice was soft, barely above a breath. It was as if even Lilith was scared. What of? Maybe disappointing Eve somehow.

Even the ones who feared nothing would be afraid of letting down the girl love and Lilith was far from fearless.

“Exactly like this.”

Like earlier, Eve’s hand had gone to Lilith’s hair, though for admittedly less practical purposes. Instead of swooping it aside or tying it up, she merely ran her fingers over it, not yet daring to run her hands through it. As if holding a mirror to her desire, that would be too much, too.

Eve stroked Lilith’s hair, fingertips grazing over the fiery locks that looked nearly ablaze when the light hit them. The occasional ray of sun that would get through the leaves would land on Lilith’s cheek, on Lilith’s ear, on Lilith’s lips, and everywhere the light fell, Eve wanted to kiss.

How could she not want to place her lips upon the other’s soft, alabaster skin? To ghost her lips over Lilith’s flesh… truly, that would be the most grave of sins though Eve felt confident in thinking it would feel like the highest of blessings.

It had to be, if it was something she wanted so much.

She was a picture of grace, every feature in her face lax, at ease and peaceful as her chest rose and fell in a constant reminder of her mortality, an imperfect yet utterly masterful portrait made by an artist who had honed their skills over a lifetime.

The way the light fell on Lilith made her seem luminous, lustrous, the way they would portray angels in paintings, all incandescent and radiant and so, so untouchable.

It would be wrong to say Lilith looked holy.

It would have been blasphemous to say it, but Eve felt as if she was finally seeing the face of God.

She saw it in Lilith.

How could she not?

Lilith was the picture of graceful divinity, every feature lax, what was usually sharp and angular seeming to soften, at ease and peaceful as her chest rose and fell in a constant reminder of her mortality despite how ethereal she looked, an imperfect yet utterly masterful portrait made by an artist who had honed their skills over a lifetime.

Eve could do nothing but look at Lilith, longing for the most tantalizing fruit in all the garden.

___________________________

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HI HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!! I WORKED MY ASS OFF TO GET THIS TO Y’ALL ON TIME I HAVE SO MUCH SCHOOL WORK TO DO-

But aksjhdgfghjk hi!! Happy Valentine’s day!! Sorry for disappearing throughout January, shit got hectic in terms of school work and I Simply Could Not™ But hey, now I’m back with a 6000+ word chapter!! The longest I’ve written so far!! Let’s fucking gOOOOOOO-

ANYWAYS, THANKS FOR STICKING AROUND THIS LONG!!

Come February 22, this book will officially be a year old and I’m literally shaking kasjdhgfghjkl is it normal to get emotional over a wip?? I fucking hope so :D But in all seriousness, thanks for getting all the way here!! I’ll try my best to get another chapter out for 22 since it is a one year anniversary and y’all deserve smth special <33

No promises tho since uni is trying to murder me ;--;;

Taglist: @atahensic @spacedout-chick @leahstypewriter @madame-ree @melpomenismask @littlemisscalamity @phillyinthebathroom @gaypeaches @extrabitterbrain @pirateofblood @i-wanna-be-a-rock