#but I’m just a demon fucker so I’m spoken for

[its-me-vixen]

The way people actually thought Adam was a fat character like no babes it was so obvious he was just in a robe the whole time sorry

[hazelfoureyes]

i have a bit of a fun ask :) can u put ur spotify on shuffle and write a fic with vox based on the first song that plays? plz plz HAZEL PLZ

Please please please know I am still getting my sea legs with Vox! So don’t go into this expecting my usual… uhhh skill? Confidence? also testing the new tag list system

「Warnings/Promises: Val exists, Vox x Fem Reader, stalking, pastry decimation, casual sexism」

Stalker’s Tango

From the moment you stepped out of your home, he was eagerly watching.

The security doorbell camera on your porch let him see you wore black pants and a white blouse. Perfect. A white pocket square in his suit jacket pocket to complement. “Wonderful choice as always, babe.” He spoke softly to the screen; to you.

He followed every move, jumping with muscle memory speed from traffic camera to home security camera to shopwindow full of screens.

When you stopped to go into a bakery, he was there in the cctv cameras, fisheye view of your order of cold brew coffee and a croissant. “Impeccable taste.” A confident laugh between you two as he shot off a text to craft services, two words, ‘Croissants. Now.’

“Could you possibly warm that?” You asked the young man behind the counter.

Another text. ‘Heated.’

He watched you at the bus stop. A man sat beside you and smiled at you. You offered a kind smile back. “Who the fuck is that?” He zoomed in, taking a screenshot to send to Velvette, ‘Find socials for this pissant.’

When you stepped onto the bus he sighed, relief the man was no longer bothering you but also with a heart heavy. You didn’t belong on the bus. Why couldn’t he just buy you a car? No, better, He should send a driver to pick you up daily. A personal chauffeur. You shouldn’t have to bother yourself with driving.

No, he was thinking too small. You should live in the tower. Angel Dust used to, why couldn’t you? A moment of fantasy.

Perhaps he’d walk in to find you in your pajamas. What ever could they be? He searched your online shopping history and couldn’t find a single purchase for sleep wear. Your lack of home television and a computer limited him to only watching you from your stoop and beyond. He buckled, what if you didn’t wear anything to bed? Why didn’t you let him see you at night? What did he need to do for you to trust him in your home.

A knock at the door he didn’t acknowledge. His sole focus was you. A book? You minx. Always playing hard to get. He knew you got the e-reader he sent. He watched you take the package from the doorbell camera, after all.

“Sir,” a small and slightly pathetic voice spoken through the door, “I’m getting word from downstairs they’re not sure how to keep croissants warm in the studio.”

Another zoom, what were you reading? He’d have the author on Vox programming, sure to take photos like old chums for you to see on your bus stop bench ads.

Vox rose slowly from his chair, eyes on you as he backed away from his desk.

A change in routine. You cut through Jekyll Park. No cameras.

Vox hurried to the door, huffing as he flung it open, “Have you never heard of a warming lamp?”

“They don’t have any… normally they only offer cold items.”

“Fine then have,” he pointed at a random employee walking by, “that fucker stand there with a toaster oven”

The eel demon shrunk, “Well he works for us not for-.”

The screen that comprised his head filled with static, eyes a swirling rage of red and black, “He works for the Vees. He goes where we tell him.”

He slammed the door, taking a moment to recompose himself before turning to face you. He didn’t want you to see him like that.

Spinning back, charming smile cocked on his face, “Alright where are you?” He strolled up to the displays and returned to his seat, scanning around until he found you again. But he wasn’t finding you. He couldn’t do anything about the park’s lack of cameras, it was pentagram city property, or else he’d have staff in there within the hour. Normally not an issue though, you never cut through that way.

Sixty seconds. Where were you?

Ninety seconds. Where were you.

One hundred and eighty seconds. Where were you!

Vox’s chair fell over as he stood with a panic, hitting the speed dial for Security. As the phone was answered and he began to instruct them to the west entrance of the park, you emerged from the tree lined path and tossed your empty coffee cup and food bag into the recycling bins. You’d just slowed your walk to enjoy your breakfast with a pretty view.

“Nevermind, false alarm fellas.” A nervous chuckle as he pulled at his collar. “Sir we’re not all me-.”

He hung up and leaned on the control panel. He should have sent a text. In fact maybe he still should.

Good Morning sinners! Reminder—- you’re only safe when you’re under the watchful eye of VoxTek Security Cameras.

A mass push text to every VoxTek phone in pentagram city. He watched you look at your phone and then up to the camera pointed directly at you from a light pole. A satisfied hum, “Good girl.”

As his view switched to the VeeTower camera system he danced into the elevator.

Vox’s foot impatiently tapped, staring directly into the eyes of the VoxTek employee holding the toaster oven in his hands. The fishy looking demon was squirming as the heat bled into the metal casing and burned his palms.

“Oh! I didn’t know I paid you to arrive late!” Val’s voice carried across the set.

You gripped the handles of your tote bag, “Val I’m sorry! The bus got a flat tire and I had to walk.”

A hiss as Val leaned down to get eye level with you, “Sluts lie as easily as they open their legs.”

“No, Val.” Vox interjected, tone stronger than he had intended, “She’s telling the truth. It was on the local traffic report. Cut her some slack.”

“I don’t watch that shit.” A sigh, exhaling pink aphrodisiac laced smoke into the air between you three, “Fine. If amorcito says so.” Val smiled to Vox before sending a sneer back to you, “Now fuck off to the dressing room.”

He walked away to shout at someone else, so you took the opportunity to say, “Thank you.” You offered a little head bow, grateful for back-up in your lie. Vox had already been trying to sneak off the set when you started speaking to him, causing him to sheepishly spin around on his heels. “I don’t think we’ve met before, but I see you all over the place. You’re Vox, right?” You extended a hand.

His screen flickered, blue background now with a gradient pink starting from the bottom, a blush rising up his face, “I see my reputation precedes me.” A false bravado as he gestured to himself. He moved the croissant to his right hand so he could shake yours.

“Well… your name and face is on everything. So, yes! I guess so.” You shook his hand, “Oh, I had a croissant too.”

He beamed, “Ya know what they say, great minds and all that. I was just having a little breakfast after reading. I hear they have some on set today in craft services.” You perked up, looking to the food table and the man holding the toaster oven.

“My lucky day! If only they had iced coffee. It would be perfect.” With a polite smile you took a step away, “I gotta go or Val will kill me. Nice to meet you!”

Vox stood still until you were out of sight. His hand crushed the pastry before he launched it across the room, mumbling about coffee before looking back longingly in the direction you’d left in, “See ya later babe.”

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei ,  @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog  , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima a , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf ,  , @fizzled-phoenix ,  @phobophobular  , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo    , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk   , @bontensbabygirl 

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s2 episode 24 thoughts

this episode was quite spooky. because cannibalism is real. but something about scully about to get her head chopped off and boiled seemed more outlandish than all the aliens and the guy that kills people with his shadow or even lizard man eugene tooms!

which is strange. because those things are pretty outlandish! maybe its because it was so much scarier than even evil lizard men.

let’s jump in:

so this is an episode involving more meat. did we need more meat, after the earlier meat processing content in s2 episode 10? many are saying no. but not chris carter!

we begin at a dirt road at night. in the state of arkansas. we have an older man and a younger woman named paula in a car, which is not suspicious at all! /s

oh and now the old man choking? is this natural or did she induce it with some poison. i mean maybe he deserved it, if she did. he takes some pills, so I’m guessing it is due to natural causes. now she beckons him out to the woods. 

into the woods. she says he has to catch her. is she luring him into a Bigfoot trap? we have yet to really see Bigfoot, and maybe he’s hungry. although Bigfoot is more Pacific Northwest than Arkansas, i think.

author's note: we tested negative for bigfoot in this episode :(

oh! this man tripped and is now surrounded by people with flashlights and very cool masks. get axe murdered, fucker.

back in DC! aforementioned fucker has been gone for 10 weeks and scully thinks the higher ups are sending them on a wild goose chase. “i’m not questioning the legitimacy of the case, just their motives in assigning it to us” <- damn, very well spoken by a rightfully suspicious woman

oh, but at the scene, someone saw a fire. and mulder says the fire is “supposed to be the spirits of massacred Indians” OH...

(mentally i was like, please do not be another scary Indigenous story episode. and we did in fact get that. sighs deeply. we can make things scary without making Indigenous people the scary ones! or using the trauma of genocide as a setting for spooky time! well, i'm sure you, dear reader, know that, so i shall not preach to the choir, but i will point out that these thoughts were going through my mind)

“these are only legends, mulder”, says a dismissive scully. and why is her hair looking excellent today. I mean not that it isn’t usually but damn. shoutout to the hair and makeup team.

the place on the side of the road where he went missing had a big fire! could be a bonfire, both parties thought. until mulder remembered a documentary he saw in college...

(hehehehe mulder spent college watching documentaries <3)

! MULDER LORE REVEAL ! wow it's been a while since i've gotten to format some text like that. he watched a documentary about an insane asylum in college and it gave him nightmares.

(and this may not be super relevant to his character, but to ME, it is, so i shall note it <3)

he's got the VHS from the doc all loaded up, and presses play on a guy rambling about a fire demon!! who was found in the same spot as the fire mark!!! dun dun dunnn 

(love the implication that he either purchased his own copy of the documentary that gave him nightmares in college, or had to go rent it from the video store. both are wonderful possibilities)

cut to arkansas. mulder is on the scene holding a plastic fork from the ground. wearing his silly sunglasses. lmaooo idk why they make me laugh. what a serious gentleman.

sheriff arrives at the scene. he says the witch’s peg to ward off spirits is normal there and also that the fire mark comes from illegal trash burning. and, as an American i am aware of how Americans love an illegal trash burn. but still. suspicious.

sheriff says the missing man george was chasing women out of town. lovely sounding fellow /s

wife questioning time!! he left her years ago. oh, but tea: the day before he went missing he was going to cite major health violations in the chicken plant! hmm... a cause for murder?

mulder gives the wife his phone number. also mulder is also looking very good today. but that is an evil voice in my head that ought to be silenced.

noooo, it's chicken plant time. no thank you ma’am, i would be out in the car <3

paula from the woods at work in the plant!!! taking mystery pills. seemingly in pain??

chicken cutting cam. oh, this is not for me! 

the agents chat with the manager, who says george was trying to shut them down. and while clocked in, paula is sweating. she just gasped in front of a whole bunch of chickens and some guy with very blue eyes. she sees a human head on the chicken stand and picks it up and throws it off. shoutout to this fake decapitated head and my best friends in the prop department for making such a funny creation.

(but of course, it was a hallucination, and she really just threw a poor chicken on the floor!!! his sacrifice was in vain... gone but not forgotten)

mulder is inspecting the chicken gutting operation and i've said it before and i'll say it again: he is braver than me. 

ohh, more chicken drama: george was filing a lawsuit about “line hypnosis” and it was dismissed before he vanished! he deserved to win. is there a meat processing union? there ought to be. but he was the only one citing bad health practices, the other 3 workers said it was fine... sooo what’s the truth…

“what’s that” asks mulder, who then gets shown the feed processor, and asks “chickens feed on chickens?” <- heartbreaking realization. many of us remember where we were when learning this information. i'm sure it will stick with him forever. and i'm frankly surprised he didn't know already.

NAURRR THE SLUDGE AND BLOOD nasty nasty evil

OH plot twist: paula is holding the manager with a knife to his throat… scully telling everyone to calm down. personally i would be not calm. she said “don’t get excited” but me? experiencing an active hostage situation at my place of work? i would be excited

NOOO the sheriff shot her and she fell into the feed conveyor belt processing… thing. sheriff i KNOW you are covering something up. you will not hide from me.

SHE GETS GULPED INTO THE FEED BELT THINGY GAGGG it’s giving the jungle by upton sinclair that caused many american 8th graders to confront the corruption of the meat industry

paula had gone to the doctor about headaches… like george!!! doctor had assumed the condition was stress induced. and they did have similar symptoms. 

treated them both with codine… ain’t that a bit strong?? this man doesn't seem to be a very good doctor, tbh. i mean i don't think the guy that works at the chicken plant to sew back on fingers needs to be an expert in everything but like. codine for headaches? umm girl.

mr. chaco of chaco’s chicken was paula’s grandfather… if i was a grandfather rich off of chicken money, my grandkids would not be working the processing line, let me tell u that much!

back to the agents: these two should not be looking as good as they do in a chicken processing plant. they had to really step it up today to compensate for the horrors of the set.

chicken man lives in a mansion. further evidence of corruption. paula, i would not have had you working in such conditions if i was your grandfather. there has been a deep wrong here, i can see already.

and he’s got a big hat and is feeding his chicken corn. not other chickens, like the feed he makes in his plant... seems he is aware of the ethical issues implied in his business. also, mulder with those weird ass glasses. 

cacho is going on about the subject of chickens. and how he built this town. he sure is taking an awful lot of credit for creating a town, pretty sure that's a team effort mr. chaco. he's also going on about how he thought george was trying to tear him down. 

AUTOPSY TIME!! rare degenerative disorder in da brain of paula. and scully has only seen it one other time back in med school because you can only really find it in an autopsy. nice work, doctor! <- i just typed “nice worm 🪱” so we'll let that stay for the added sense of whimsy it provides

but despite looking like a young girl fresh out of high school, paula was born in '48?! she was 47 years old. allegedly. this is not adding up. so they go on a quest to find her birth certificate and see what the truth is.

debrief in the car. so: odds are not great that she and george had the same very rare disease

during this discussion, our duo are run off the road by a chicken truck!!!! no! oh... he drove them into a river. mulder has shifted into rescue mode as the river is red with chicken gore. i feel someone might be distracting them and trying to get the body… (this was actually not the case i was just overly suspicious)

but more chicken drama: the driver had the same symptoms as george and paula! how can this be?!

“i just came up with a sick theory, mulder” (grabs her shoulder) “ooh, I’m listening” LMAOOOO this is sososo funny to me. yeah tell me ur sick theories scully you have my full attention.

GAG!! because it is both gross and shocking. her theory: what if someone put george’s body in the feed grinder, and then since it’s a prion disease, a chicken ate it, and someone ate a chicken, and it spread to the humans!!!! AHHHH! well that would be an epidemic, because they ship chickens out across the country… she glances knowingly, implying things could be very bad 

the river is filled with bird gore from the plant BLECH... who allows this??!! please say there are some modern regulations in place to prevent this being done irl.

mulder says he wants it dragged, thinking that maybe george is in there. and the sheriff is hesitant to do this. once again, i’m onto you, sheriff. i mean, a river full of chicken gore: it would be a good place to put a dead body.

and bam! a body is found. or rather. many many many bones. many bodies. and they are still going. damn.

so, we have a ton of bones. scully can put them into 9 distinct skeletons, one of which is in fact george. i love that she can do that, put the bones into distinct skeletons. she knows it's geroge from a pin in his femur!

“all of them share one, strange detail though” “well, they seem to have lost their heads” “… well, besides that” <- LMAOOOO idk why this was so funny to me... he really thought he picked up on something but he did Not.

here's the linking detail: all the bones are smooth and buffed like they have been polished. ??? who is polishing bones? it sure isn't me, i'll tell you that much. 

george’s wife is at the scene, learning her husband's body has been found, and she is sobbing. and the sheriff says “we’ll take care of you” now what does THAT mean? because it's not really sounding like the welcoming words of a man who is going to guide his neighbor through tragedy, and instead like there is something bigger at play here...

back at the plant, the doctor is mentioning another guy coming down “with the symptoms”…. omg. so this IS a known thing from the inside. mr. chaco knows but he isn’t doing anything about it!!!!! chicken dramaaaa goes crazy 

scully at the scene of all the bones, carrying a bucket of chicken. lmao. she is braver than me, for i would have gone vegan the first moment i set foot in chicken processing land.

mulder does some digging: 87 people have disappeared in the area in 50 years! that seems... a lot? and he thinks the same person or persons were responsible. he thinks they were EATEN!! boiled in a pot.

“they used similar evidence to prove cannibalism among on the Anasazi tribe of New Mexico” okay: 1. why do you know that 2. need to look into these allegations for myself and 3. Anasazi… that is the title of the next episode!!! what could this mean!! another cannibalism episode?!

scully is very sad to say that paula could have gotten sick from eating george :( girl I’m not convinced the chicken is clean put it down NOW 

cannibalism = eternal life? follow for more crazy mulder theories!

she puts aside the chicken……. good!

mr. chaco says “he’ll handle it” and george's wife doris arrives, saying she “can’t keep lying”… she says “she did it” (!!)

OH????? she... killed her husband? that is a bold thing to admit to.

“we’re gonna take good care of you”, says mr. chaco, which raises the question: are they a cannibal cult???? is that what he means when he mentions that he “built this town”???

now what the hell is going on. <- an interjection i stand by

mulder and scully are going to the courthouse to look at the papers and all the birth records are burnt!! doris calls mulder and says he’s afraid mr. chaco will kill her… they split up…. nooooo i hate splitting up!!! i watched so much scooby doo as a kid!

GASP! a guy in a mask like we saw at the very beginning of the episode is in doris' home!!! drumbeat playing while she screams…. overall, this is very not good, i wrote, referring to the use of Indigenous imagery for this murder, and also doris being murdered in the first place

scully at the scene of the murder ft. big ass flashlight. she gets in through the side door. gun: out. trench coat: open. looks: served. diagnosis: baby girl that could kill me, and i am respectful of the fact that she has this power yet refrains from using it on me.

mulder at mr. chaco’s house. mr. chaco has some… stuff in his home. including photos with Indigenous people and also bones. having human bones in your house, and especially on display, is not a good sign of ethics in play. and a skull. Oh! it says the skull is from a tribe in New Guinea... why tf does he have that. put it back???

at the back of chaco's parlor, we see a mysterious door. mulder is busting it open.

LORD ALMIGHTY, I DID NOT THINK THERE WOULD BE HEADS INSIDE??? HELLO???

so that must be where all of the heads that mulder noticed were missing have gone. they're sewn up sort of like shrunken heads. very spooky. once again, pour one out for the props department for such a creation.

noooo chaco is in the house with scully, who was investigating the call of doris. NOOOO HE KNOCKED HER OUT!!! this seriously needs to stop happening like i'm worried about the brain damage she is experiencing.

back to mulder cam. goodness. all of these heads. 

in a field now. doctor is serving some soup. to a bunch of people. who are eating around a big bonfire. do NOT tell me scully is in that meal....

she is not. YET! but he is bringing her over to be roasted. and they ate doris! chaco is yelling about turning on each other and how they were only supposed to eat outsiders. girl you shouldn't be eating anybody last time i checked. 

man in the mask shows up with an axe. and chaco is decapitated in front of scully. who is put into the decapitation thingy next. GIRL THIS IS FUCKED UP!!!

mulder on the scene, just in time. he shoots the dude in the mask.

“you alright?” he asks, brushing her hair back after lifting her out of the decapitation machine. my good friend, i would venture to guess that she is not quite alright at the moment!!! this will take an awful lot of unpacking!!!

sigh. but the tenderness of the near death experience. coming back to life in someone's arms. yeah i'll romanticize that.

TEA!!! the sheriff was the one under the mask!!!!!! i knew he was up to no good.

wrap up: chicken place shut down. unclear how many citizens of the town ate people. 27 have become ill with prion disease. chaco’s plane was shot down in 1947, and he spent 7 months with a cannibalistic tribe, and also he was born in 1902, so he was 93 at his death- so the cannibalism really WAS extending life. and we see some more feed being scooped to the chickens as scully says his remains have yet to be found. end scene.

HUH???? what in da hell. so what are we thinking kids…?

well, i'll tell you something: turns out i am afraid of cannibal cults, no matter how outlandish they seem! i guess when you get a villain or evil situation of the week show like this, you WILL learn exactly what kind of fear pushes your buttons. i can imagine almost nothing scarier than being led to the slaughter like scully was. seems a purposeful commentary on the meat industry, especially when taken in with the other meat episode this season.

so, if i were scully, i do think i would need to take a week or so off. but she is just built different than i am.

some things bugged me here. first of all, like i mentioned, you don't need to throw in Indigenous people to make a scary story. like is the thought of a bunch of arkansas cannibals not horrific enough? the scary was there!

second, i have not been doing a kidnapping count, but i feel that scully is getting the rough of the deal here. i believe in gender equality when it comes to characters being kidnapped. like, an even 1:1 ratio. why are we denying mulder his damsel in distress arc? does anyone think about how he would feel? how nice it would be to see scully burst in with a gun and shoot the fellow that was about to cannibalize him?

still, it is rare an episode actually spooks me, so i must give credit where it is due. even if it felt a little outlandish, your girl was frightened! scully needs a vacation now. i also thoroughly laughed at the sick theories line and his funny sunglasses.

it's funny to note, but i like the episodes that are either very silly and light hearted, or incredibly angsty the best. and that may seem contradictory, but you cannot tell me that one breath and humbug may be on opposite ends of the tone spectrum, but they are both objectively Perfect. i'll have to think more on why they are the best in my opinion, but i think honestly i would watch these two read the dictionary.

[qodlysinz]

Petty Arguments

Vox X Valentino - Hazbin Hotel

CW: None really, just the silly little goobers, a shit ton of cursing but its hazbin so its wtv, Valentino

Tags: slight angst??? maybe??? I rarely work w angst, Velvette is sick of their shit, mentions of sex

A/N: soo uhhh I’m hispanic BUT I don’t speak spanish, so Val’s spanish might be super shitty but I’d appreciate help for it 😭😭😭 also NOT proofread. This was inspired by this post on twitter

Vox and Valentino had their squabbles. Everyone did. They were in Hell, no one was perfect, and certainly these two weren’t.

Velvette seemed to be growing annoyed with the tense atmosphere after their most recent little fight. It was over another one of Val’s whores—Angel Dust.

That stupid little spider always seemed to be the head of their arguments. Even after he moved out he was a little virus in Vox’s program. He hated how Valentino always had something for Angel Dust. He always talked about him like he’d croak and fall dead from not talking about him for at least thirty minutes.

Vox gritted his teeth in frustration—sure, he had his own obsession, the Radio Demon. He wasn’t afraid to admit it, either. He knew it was unhealthy, but damn it! That fucking bastard deserved Vox’s hatred! Everyone Vox hated was within good reason. And when Vox holds a grudge, he holds it forever.

Val entered Vox’s office, his signature pink smoke enveloping the room. Vox normally found this scent reassuring, knowing that the Precioso Valentino was by his side. But the smell only made him even more irritated. Was he going to mention that stupid fucking spider again? At how much better he was? Just to rile Vox up again?! God, even when gone that twink had Vox pissed off. The mere mention of his name made him want to smash computers, and not in the fun way.

Vox glanced at Val from the corner of his eye, spinning in his chair. “What can I help you with now, Valentino?” Did the mention of his full name give Val the impression he was angry? He hoped so. Vox was not good at communicating. “Why so tense, Vox? Are you still pissed about what I said last night?” He sighed, arms crossed and expecting something—likely an apology—as if he hadn’t been the one to break their silence and come into Vox’s office.

Vox didn’t grace Val with a response, only a contemptuous scoff and a sassy eye roll. That’d get the point across, surely. Val hummed, walking over as if he were one of Velvette’s models. “I’m not going to apologize, so you best do it if you want things to go back to normal.” He sharply said, eyes narrowed. He was probably squinting to see Vox from how shitty his eyesight was.

The TV demon scowled, breaking their eye contact and turning back to his screens. “Forget about Angel Dust, and we have an agreement.” Vox snapped back, not even bothering to look at Valentino. The moth let out an abrasive scoff like Vox had called him a heinous slur. “¡Maldito imbécil!” Val shouted at him, “you know that slippery fuck is my best star, I can’t just give him away!” He smacked his fist to the desk, shaking the screens. Vox quickly got to his feet, glaring at him.

“He’s not some lost dog you found, Valentino! He’s just some other whore you employed, so just forget that motherfucker!” Vox argued back, he was going to try and add more points to his case, but Valentino had pressed on his screen, muting his voice. “Maybe it’s time you shut the fuck up for once.” Val huffed, stomping off. Vox was quiet, by choice, and stared after Val. His jaw slack and eyes wide. Valentino had never spoke to him so coldly—not in their hundreds of arguments over the years. He was hardheaded and brash, so that meant he was fucking pissed.

Vox swallowed, turning his volume back up. “Fucker.” He muttered to himself.

Val paced around his room, ranting to Velvette in anger, mixing in some fast-spoken Spanish Velvette couldn’t decipher. She sighed, trying to sigh over him to get him to notice how annoyed she was, he didn’t care and continued to complain.

“Can you believe that fucker said that?! ¡Ese estúpido imbécil sabe lo duro que trabajo!” Val yelled, grabbing at his antenna in frustration and throwing his guns and glasses of alcohol at the walls. Velvette groaned, “shut up!” She yelled over him, silencing the incredibly tall moth. He stared at her, now glaring. “Excuse me?”

“You two fuckheads are insufferable! One minute you’re literally sucking each other off on the couch, and the next you’re at each other’s throats! It’s pathetic. I’m the middleman, and it’s completely ridiculous!” She rubbed her temples, sighing loudly. “Ever since you got that lanky prick Angel Dust you’ve been talking about him like he’s the Queen of England.”

“The who?”

She ignored him, “we get it, you like how much money he makes you and how fun it is to torture the lad. But sometimes it’s annoying. And by sometimes, I mean all the goddamn time!” She continued. “And you muted him?! You know how he gets when he’s being overshadowed! Just kiss and makeup so I don’t break out from all this stupid fucking stress! Negativity is bad for my skin.” Velvette huffed, slamming the door as she left.

Val sighed, she did have a point. But he’d rather be caught in a polyester suit off the rack than admit his faults. He sat down, groaning loudly as he mumbled curses in Spanish before looking around his room in search of the cameras, but unable to fully see them. “Vox!” He shouted, “come here!”

Reluctantly, the TV demon transported himself via camera, standing before Valentino with his hands folded behind his back. On his screen read: ‘what do you want now?’

How mature.

Val scoffed, crossing his lower arms with his upper arms on his hips. “Come on, Vox, just talk.” He demanded, “I need to hear your voice.” He said it so quietly Vox almost asked him to repeat himself.

“What now, Valentino? Are you going to mute me again and go fuck Angel Dust?” He rolled his eyes, walking over to the window. Val grumbled, following him. “No. That idiota went back to the stupid hotel.” He huffed out irritably. Vox visibly brightened, giving his full attention to Valentino. “What is it, Val?” He spoke gently.

Val was quiet for a moment before speaking up. “Velvette helped me realize… that I was being unreasonable and unfair.” He murmured, Vox was surprised that Val had admitted to his own faults, straightening up as he smiled softly. “Did she now?” He tilted his head, Val nodded, leaning down to Vox’s height. “I’m…” he shuddered, “…sorry…”

Vox hummed, adjusting his tie. “Well. I didn’t ever expect to hear that from you of all Sinners, Val. Are you sure you’re the same person?” He asked lightly, looking very amused. Val rolled his eyes, “very funny.” He sarcastically quipped, “I promise to stop bringing up Angel Dust if you stop bringing up Alastor.” He propped his hands on his hips, inching closer to his face. Vox sighed, “very well. It’s a promise. We won’t bring up—them… from now on.”

“Hm. Good.” Val enveloped the smaller Vox in his arms, “this is going to happen again three days from now, isn’t it?” Vox muttered into Val’s neck fluff, grimacing. “It keeps us on our toes!” Val grinned wickedly as he kissed Vox passionately. “Don’t you think?”

Vox blinked, slowly nodding. “Mm-hmm,” he dizzily mumbled, a day without Valentino affection was like a day without drugs, almost like he needed Val to survive or he’d seize. Val laughed cheekily, “Kitty, lock the doors!” He ordered the robot as it quickly zipped away per order.

[atmilliways]

Wrong On The Money (45)

part 45 of ?? | 681 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

Eddie spends the next few days walking on air. 

I ❤️ Uncle Wayne.

45.

Eddie spends the next few days walking on air. 

Sure, they haven’t exactly defined their relationship yet. But he woke up cuddling Steve Harrington, and ever since then they kiss each other silly whenever they’re alone together. There’s even some backing each other into walls or pushing up against doors. And whenever Eddie slips into Steve’s room, he’s always greeted warmly, if sleepily. 

Steve likes to be the little spoon. Eddie likes to nuzzle into the finer strands of his thick, glorious hair at the base of his neck and press reverent kisses until one of them falls asleep. It works. 

A huge part of Eddie is still shocked that Steve is interested in him at all, after all the shit he’s pulled and some of his dumbass friends’ crap. But he’s starting to get it—to get Steve, and the way he thinks about himself as perpetually making up for his past douchebag tendencies. Which. . . . Yeah. There had been a time or two, or seven (or thirty), where Tommy H. had shoved him into a locker or a trash can or a wall, or any of the other popular kids had made a scathing (if vapid) comment about Eddie or his little sheep, and Steve had just laughed. It hadn’t felt great. 

But after Vecna and the Upside Down and nearly being eaten alive by demonic hive mind bats, all that paled in comparison. Eddie keeps telling him that, keeps reassuring him that he’s a good guy, really, because if there’s one thing he can’t stand it’s the injustice of someone undervaluing themselves and letting the world grind them down. (That’s what’s killing the kids, after all.) And if Steve reassures him right back at every turn, well. . . . That’s a surprising bonus that he’s learning to hear right alongside him. 

-

Wayne stops him midway through grabbing his van keys to go pick up groceries. “What’s up with you, Ed?”

“Nothing,” Eddie fibs. “I’m just having a good day. You don’t want me to have a good day?”

Wayne raises an eyebrow. “Cut that sass. I ain’t saying you’re in a suspiciously good mood, but I am curious to know what’s made my favorite kid so happy lately.”

Favorite kid, ha. Only kid, in point of fact, and usually Eddie might remind him of that and get called a smartass. He wonders if his uncle has started thinking of Steve as part of the family already. 

. . . Oh that stirs up feelings he’s not sure he’s ready for—afraid to be too much for Steve when what they have is so new and fragile. They haven’t even seen each other naked yet, this is not the time to start doodling Mesrrs. Steve & Eddie Harrington-Munson with little black ink hearts around the words in his diary. 

As if Wayne can read his mind, the next question is, “You patch things up with Steve?”

Eddie can feel himself blushing, can feel the definitely stupid smile pushing its way onto his face. This is why he tries to put on a front of mean and scary as often as possible, but that has never, not once, worked at home. 

“I . . . might have,” he hedges. He doesn’t want to jinx it by saying anything. If it’s spoken into reality then it becomes solid, and solid things can break. Which will probably happen eventually, but he’d like to put that off as long as possible, thanks. At least long enough to get his mouth on more of Steve—

Wait, he shouldn’t daydream in front of Wayne.

Eddie tunes back in to find his uncle giving him an unimpressed stare, a faint uptick at the corner of Wayne’s non-smile that is definitely at his expense. “Well, good. ‘Bout time you boys got your heads outta your asses.”

It’s not until he pulls into the grocery store parking lot that Eddie realizes Wayne might have meant more than just talking—the fucker is perceptive when he wants to be. He just hopes Wayne doesn’t say anything to Steve. 

But he wouldn’t, right? No. No way. Where would they be without family loyalty?

[sorrydearie]

!: that classic collapse into someone’s waiting arms

(something something sickly victorian child)

“Repeat after me—”

“I’m not a fucking child.”

“—we do not touch the haunted dolls.”

“If they didn’t want people touching them,” Martín argued, “they should have put up a sign.”

“You mean on top of the rope fencing them off from irresponsible people with a death wish?”

Ah, fuck.

Martín hated to admit it, but Andrés had a point there. 

The corduroy rope was hard to miss, actually. Bright-red, it looped around the displayed dolls like a bold-faced challenge.

Strangely enough, the dolls were the only exhibits to be fenced off. All of the other artifacts in Señor Rodrigez Cabinet of Curiosities – dusty old ouija boards, monkey paws, and various occult paraphernalia – were suspiciously accessible.

Probably because Señor Rodrigez knew very well that he'd built his empire on random trash.

Even so. Martín didn’t appreciate the snide comment. He wrinkled his nose, annoyed, and made a point to glare at Tatiana when she laughed at him.

Taking sides now, was she? 

Whore. 

Come to think of it, Martín wasn’t usually so hostile. 

It must be the creepy dolls, staring at him with their dead, beady eyes. Those porcelain faces with round, rosy cheeks. The irritably long lashes, like little spider legs…

It unnerved him. Creepy little fuckers.

“Anyway. I’m calling their bluff.” Martín waved his hand, dismissive. “You don’t actually believe that I’m gonna get possessed by a sickly Victorian child if I touch them? That’s ridiculous.”

The corners of Andrés’s lips dragged down. Just like they always did when Martín ‘disrespected’ the dead. Or the demonic. And, one notable time, the yetis. 

“Of course you’re not gonna get possessed,” Andrés clarified, matter-of-factly. As though Martín was slow or stupid – or both. “You’ll get cursed. Plunged into a life of despair. Bad luck is going to follow you around like a vengeful ex and you’ll be left with nothing. No money, no friends, no love life.”

"So no different to how things are right now," Tatiana chimed in, sticking out her tongue. Martín briefly contemplated pushing her into the display of cursed masks adorning the wall. How dare she butt into this?!

He glared at her. “You’re a nasty, disgusting, absolutely vile woman—”

“Martín!” 

Andrés gasped, and Martín frowned. What, was Andrés appalled by how Martín had spoken to his ex? They bickered all the time, it was kind of their thing.

But then Andrés grabbed Martín’s arm and dragged him close, eyes glued to one of the dolls displayed in front of them. 

“Did you see that?”

Martín blinked. “See what?”

“That doll’s arm just moved.”

“Bullshit.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“I’m calling you easily excitable.” Like a hot golden retriever, trained to detect the paranormal. “Maybe the air conditioning ruffled her dress, or something. It is chilly here.”

Andrés shot him an unimpressed look.

“I think I’m knowledgeable enough to differentiate between a gust of wind and a real-life demonic presence.”

“You said that the last few times, too…” Martín trailed off, frowning. 

He hadn’t realized it until now, but Andrés was still holding onto him. His fingers were curled, tightly, around Martín’s bicep. 

It was… distracting.

He cleared his throat, suddenly flustered. 

“Whatever,” he said, playing it off. Like Andrés’s touch wasn’t burning him through his clothes. “The only thing scary about these dolls is their fucked-up eyes. So don’t go pissing your pants—”

It all happened so fast. 

He’d been eager to seem cool and unaffected, and so he’d laughed and thrown out his arms – and knocked over one of the stupid dolls.

It tumbled off its pedestal, frilly dress and laces fanning out like a broken parachute, before sprawling onto the floor in a heap of broken limbs and human ringlets. Its dead eyes stared up at Martín, unblinking. 

Tatiana gasped in horror. 

“Oh shit,” Martín said. “That’s not—”

Good, he’d meant to say, but the words got stuck inside his throat when Andrés grabbed his face, crowding him.

“What are you—”

They were impossibly close, just a hair’s breadth between them. Martín could make out the specks of amber in his eyes, like particles of starlight. He could count Andrés’s lashes, and marvel at the perfect dip of his Cupid’s bow…

Martín’s heart knocked against his ribcage like a fucking ping pong ball. 

“Are you all right?” Andrés asked, searching his face. “I told you not to touch the damned thing. Do you feel any different? Light-headed? Fatigued?”

His words were rushed, and for a split second Martín mistook it for worry. But he knew Andrés better than that, knew how to read the signs: the wide eyes, the hitch in his breath, the flush to his cheeks…

The bastard was excited. About Martín getting cursed. 

Hijo de puta. 

Had Andrés no shame? Did he not care if Martín died at the ant-sized hands of an Annabelle knock-off? What if it toddled into his flat at the dead of night and axe-murdered him in his sleep? Would Andrés get off on that?

Martín opened his mouth, ready to give him a good talking-to, but changed his mind at the last second.

Maybe…

Maybe he could use this to his advantage.

“Actually… I’m feeling a bit faint,” he said, wrangling his voice into a croak. He coughed too, for effect. Look at him – weak and wearied and miserable. The poor, unfortunate victim of a powerful curse. 

He made his knees buckle and slumped forward, as if overcome by a dizzy spell, and Andrés’s arms opened for him. He drew Martín close, encouraging him to lean against him. Just like Martín knew he would. 

Andrés made a cooing sound. His breath tickled the hair at Martín’s temple. 

“Let’s get you out of here,” Andrés said, stroking Martín’s back. “The doll’s power over you will only grow stronger if we stay here.”

Martín nodded, and let out an afflicted moan. For good measure. 

From the corner of his eye he could see Tatiana hiding a smirk behind her camera. Martín couldn’t bring himself to care. Not as long as Andrés kept his arms around him, as long as he allowed Martín to tuck his face into the crook of his neck, and held him close.

Nothing mattered, as long as Andrés gave Martín his undivided attention. 

He’d milk Andrés’s sympathy for all it was worth. 

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN ー Ayato Maniac [08]

Monologue

Ever since we returned to our room, after finishing the meal,

Ayato-kun has not spoken a single word. 

I believe that he might be thinking about,

the letter he received,

from Zweig-san, the Vibora King. 

ー The scene starts in the guest room at Eden

Yui: ( Ayato-kun has been seemingly lost in thought this whole time... )

( I probably shouldn’t bother him, right...? )

Ayato: ...Hey, Chichinashi. 

Yui: Eh? 

Ayato: ‘Bout the thing with the Vibora clan. What do you think about it?

Yui: ...Well...

( I’ll just be honest... )

I do believe it would be reassuring to have an ally on our side...

However, if I’m honest, I’m doubtful whether or not we should trust them so easily. 

Ayato: ...Right. I thought so too. 

The Old Hag was part Vibora if I recall correctly...But that’s the only connection we have, right?

Then why would he suddenly claim that he ‘acknowledges me as the King’? 

It’s not like he knows me all that well or anything...It smells fishy...

ー Ayato gets up from his seat

Ayato: I’ve decided. I’ll turn down the offer. 

I think I’d still be much better off by myself, than to have to rely on the help of those suspicious fuckers.

Yui: Ayato-kun...

( But he’s right. If he declines Zweig-san’s offer... )

( Ayato-kun might end up having to fight all on his own. )

( Besides... )

Hey, Ayato-kun. If you do turn down the offer...I wonder if the Vibora will just simply accept that?

Ayato: ...What do you mean? 

Yui: For example, they might try to form an alliance with someone else after you’ve turned them down...

( I guess I’m just overthinking things... )

Ayato: You mean like the Vibora joining forces with the Wolves or the Alder? I can’t see that happening. Otherwise they would have long done so already. 

Yui: Right...But what about the Church...?

Ayato: ...With those guys in the human world...?

Yui: Yeah...

( The Church is trying to wipe out all Demons living in the human world... )

( However, they might be willing to temporarily work together with them depending on the situation... )

( Kino-kun is the perfect example... )

Ayato: That could happen. The Church basically consists of Vampire hunters, right?

Those guys hold a personal grudge ‘gainst us. There’s the whole situation with you as well...

Speakin’ of which, what ever happened to your pops? Is he still workin’ for the Church? 

Yui: Father...? Well, I’m not sure actually...

( However, I cannot imagine someone as devout as my Father would part ways with the Church. )

( If he is still alive, then I’m sure he’s with the Church... )

Ayato: Assuming that Vibora are hoping to take down us Vampires from behind the scenes...

Then I’m sure the Church will happily work together with them. Your Old Man would do the same, no? 

After all, it’d be a perfect opportunity to get you back. 

Yui: ...

Ayato: I guess we should pretend to fall for their sweet words and join forces with them after all...?

Fuck...What should I do? I guess I’ll have no other choice but to ask Reiji for advi...

...

Yui: Ayato-kun...

Ayato: ...Hehe. What am I sayin’ now...?

Even though I’m the one who claimed I don’t need them...

Anyway, we have lil’ time left to decide. No point in rackin’ our brain over every single possibility. 

I’ve still got these powers when worse comes to worst. I’m sure it’ll all work out in the end. 

Yui: ...

Monologue

And with those words,

Ayato-kun sent a Familiar,

to Zweig-san.

I remained quiet,

and followed his decision. 

*TIMESKIP*

*Rustle* 

ー Yui wakes up

Yui: ...Nn...

Huh...?

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: ( Ayato-kun is gone...? I could have sworn he was sleeping next to me just earlier... )

( I wonder where he went...? )

Selection

→ Go look for him (❦)

Yui: ( I’m kind of worried. I suppose I’ll go search around for a bit... )

→ Wait and see 

Yui: ( I’m kind of worried. But... )

( He might come right back, so I’ll wait and see a bit longer... )

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: ( Doesn’t seem like he’s coming back any time soon... )

ー She gets out of bed

Yui: ( I’m really starting to get worried now...I’ll look around for him a bit. )

ー The scene shifts to the inner garden

Ayato: ...

God, why did all of this happen...?

( I thought I could pull it off even without havin’ to rely on my brothers’ help. But... )

( I’m sure that if Reiji was here right now, he would have been able to give me some kind of advice. )

( As nosy and annoyin’ as that guy might be, I gotta admit that he’s got the brains... )

( Shuu can be more or less useful when it truly matters too. )

( Even Subaru could have been a great asset with his raw power alone. )

( Which leaves Kanato and Laito... )

( They’re a duo of idiots, but how should I put it...? )

( We share the closest connection amongst my whole family... )

( Both of us suffered similarly at the hand of that Old Hag, and we worked together to kill her... )

( I do see us as allies in that regard... )

( But...They’re no longer here. I’m all alone now. )

( Even though I wished for that myself, why am I having regrets now? )

Fuck...This is pathetic...

( Maybe I was wrong. )

( Deep down, I never wanted these powers. )

( But...That shitty Old Fart... )

*TIMESKIP*

Ayato: ...

Yui: Ah, Ayato-ku...

*Rustle* 

Yui: ( I wonder why...? Ayato-kun lacks his usual confident aura... (1) )

( But I can hardly blame him. Of course he’s disheartened being all by himself... )

( I’m sure that he actually wants to make up with everyone. Even earlier... )

ー Yui recalls his words

Ayato: Fuck...What should I do? I guess I’ll have no other choice but to ask Reiji for advi...

...

ー The flashback ends

Yui: ( Despite everything, he still relied on everyone... )

Ayato: Phew...Hm? Chichinashi, is that you? How long have you been standing there? 

Yui: I got here just now.

Ayato: ...Hm.

Yui: Hey, Ayato-kun. Tell me if there’s anything I can do for you, okay?

Ayato: Ah? Why would you bring that up all of a sudden...?

Yui: ...There might not be much I can do. But...

I believe in you, okay...? 

Ayato: ...

Yui: Hm. You believe, huh...? I see. Then how does this sound?

Be on my side forever. If you believe me, that means you’re my ally in this fight, right?

In that case, I want you to stay my ally even in the future to come. ...Can you do that? 

Yui: Of course. 

Ayato: ...Heeh. I see. 

I was thinkin’ by myself for a bit and I realized that it’s important to have allies in life.

I thought I didn’t need them but...

Maybe I was just convinced that everyone would automatically be on my side...

Even though...That shouldn’t have been taken for granted at all...

Yui: Ayato-kun...

It’ll be okay. I’ll forever be your ally, okay?

Ayato: Hah, really? But...I guess that doesn’t sound bad...

ー The Mukami’s observe from the distance

Kou: ...

Yuma: ...

Azusa: ...

Monologue

Ayato-kun is having regrets (後悔). 

Over the fact that he pushed everyone away from him. 

It became painfully obvious to me just how lonely he felt,

as I instinctively grabbed his hand (手). 

I will never, ever be able,

to abandon Ayato-kun.

So just as I thought, things cannot stay like this.

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) Yui literally notes that he appears ‘smaller’ than usual. However, this does not refer to his actual height, but it’s meant to convey that someone seems to have lost motivation and therefore appears less impressive. 

[witches-and-devils]

Kinktober Day Three, Body Worship

Hey, warning! The following contains smut with a whole heaping ton of body worship and monster-fucking. Please enjoy!

    The entire day for Damascus hadn’t been… amazing. First, Ace hadn’t given him a chance to rest since he’d been rudely awoken this morning at an ungodly hour. They’d been trekking through the woods all day, and while he didn’t really care that much aside from finding the trip to be overtly boring, all it did was leave him restless and frustrated after dealing with the little shit’s constant badgering and paranoia. Second, he’d been startled out of a nightmare he really didn’t feel like reliving. Now his skin was itchy and the scars along his back felt like they were burning.

    It was stupid. He was being stupid, he knew that. It was just a stupid dream, it didn’t need to affect the rest of his day. It was just the Little Boss and his nagging, that’s all. He wouldn’t shut the fuck up and now the Demon was nothing but a swirling mess of frustration and irritability.

    “-scus?” Another twinge of agitation flew through his mind as he practically smashed the last piece of wood onto their campfire for the night.     “Fucking hell, what now?” Damascus snapped, glaring over at the redhead who narrowed his eyes.

    “Did you even hear me?”

    “Does it matter? Ya never shut up.” Ugh, there it was. That stupid, indignant look on his face. As if he were entitled to some sorta respect or something or-

    Delicate hands trailing down his back, searing pain at the base of his spine- Did you really think I loved you-?

    Nope. Fuck that. He didn’t need to deal with that shit right now. Was this fucker still lecturing him?

    “Then, you barely talk to me all day and, while I don’t usually give a shit about that, whenever you have spoken it’s been nothing but what I can only describe as a massive temper tantrum!” This was not making things any better. Raising a hand, he scratched at the back of his neck only to wince as another painful tingle ran over the scar tissue along his spine.

    “Yeah, yeah, I get the message, just shut up, will ya?”

    “What the fuck is-”

    “Just restless, okay? I’ve been listenin’ to your shit all day and I’ve barely done anythin’! I’m tense and bored, so just be fucking quiet for a second!” He saw a familiar flash behind Ace’s eyes, one he’d come to know too well by now. Before he could open his mouth to complain again, the Witch was already in his lap and running his hands across his chest. “Hey-”

    “You’re restless and you don’t want to talk, right? Well, maybe I don’t feel like bickering all night either so-”

    “Ace, not tonight. I ain’t in the mood for it.” Ace’s face scrunched up in confusion, Damascus’s skin crawled in the wake of his touch. He couldn’t handle it right now. It wasn’t like they had any strings to attach to their sex life together, but the resemblance to his old life was too much right now. He didn’t want to handle it.

    “Since when are you not ready to have sex?”

    “Since tonight, okay!? Just… get off.” He looked away from the Witch, trying to push him away only to scoff and glare at him when he felt a hand against his cheek.     “Hey…” Damascus reluctantly looked back at Ace, only to freeze up when he saw just how… concerned those blind eyes looked within the light of the campfire. “What’s going on, Damascus?”

    …

    …

    “N… nothin’, yeah? Just feeling outta it or somethin’. Been a long day.” Just take it at that, please, please don’t keep pressing, I don’t want to talk about it-

    He felt the redhead push him down, only pausing to resist when his back hit the dirt as a sigh slipped out of his lips. “Ace-”

    “Shh, just… let me try something. You can stop me in a second, but… give me a chance to help.” The Demon opened his mouth to complain again only to freeze up when he felt Ace’s hands slowly lifting up his shirt. No- His hands went to stop him.

    “C’mon-”

    “You’re perfect.”

    …

    “What?” Since when had Ace gotten so… mushy? The Witch stared down at him as if… it was almost like he was adoring the sight of Damascus alone. What the hell was going on?

    “Seriously, Damascus. There’s a reason I’m always jumping after you, you know. You’re perfect. The way you twitch under my touch,” he whispered, his fingers undoing the button-up shirt the Demon wore before slowly trailing down his chest and closer to the edge of his belt, “The pushing and fighting for dominance is always fun, but watching you give in and just let me make you feel good is… almost heavenly.” His belt was undone, and he was vaguely aware of the pounding of his heart in his ears as he felt Ace’s hand slip into his boxes and slowly drag over his member in an almost reverent manner.

    “Ace-”

    “Shhh, let me make you feel better, big guy. You were so good today, and now? I can’t get enough of watching you like this.” His cock sprung free, Ace’s eyes lighting up as he leaned down and licked along the tip. Damascus gasped, his hips bouncing up closer to the touch. He’d barely done anything yet…

    Then Ace hollowed out his cheeks, moaning in ecstasy as he slowly moved his head down until he’d taken the majority of the Demon’s cock into his mouth. His hands drew delicate circles and traced the fine scars on Damascus’s thighs as he brought his head up again. Damascus panted, his back arching at the sensation as Ace’s tongue drug across his skin. It took him a moment to gather himself, pushing himself up enough that he was able to crane his neck down to see what exactly the Witch was doing. He felt his face redden when he saw how blissful Ace’s face was as his head bounced up and down, the dick twitching in his mouth as one of Damascus’s hands reluctantly reached out and bunched up a small bit of that bright red hair. He pulled off his member with a quiet ‘pop’, his eyes half-lidded as he littered his thighs and cock with small kisses and licks while whispering over and over, “So good for me- doing so much- just absolutely perfect- each little scar- every twitch and breath- such a good boy for me- you’re intoxicating-”

    Slowly but surely, those disgusted thoughts were pushed to the back of Damascus’s mind, becoming clouded over as his climax drew closer and closer into view. Ace began stroking him, his mouth continuing its onslaught of kisses leading up his body and across his chest to each little mark and imperfection that had been bothering the Demon since he’d awoken that morning. The Witch gasped as something burst inside Damascus, his hips fucking into his hand as he worked through his orgasm with a low whine that turned into a quiet, almost shy purr. “There you go, big guy. Just like that, so good, so amazing. There we go, there we go, come here…” He moved up, raising his hand to his mouth and licking some of Damascus’s cum off his fingertips with a pleased grin on his face. “There… feel any better?” Flustered, confused, and far more turned on than he thought he should be, the Familiar swallowed and managed to choke out, “I… I think so- maybe…?” Ace smiled in response, slowly helping Damascus sit up against a tree so he had a good view as he reached down and prodded a finger against his hole.    “Well, I suppose that just means I’ll have to keep going until you know so, hmm?”

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 83

The Rapture/The Sound of Drums

“The Rapture”

Plot Description: Sam and Dean search for Castiel, who appeared to Dean in a dream. Instead, they find Castiel’s human vessel who has little memory of being an angel

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: No one died

I…I forgot that Dean was dreaming. He dreams of fishing? Of peacefully fishing? Kind of cute

Jimmy’s voice is so different from Cas’s. Why does Cas make Jimmy sound like that

Ever wonder how Jimmy, this devout christian man, feels about the fact that the angel using his body as a vessel is gay? I didn’t til now…but I know/remember very little about Jimmy

Poor Jimmy just wants to go home. I get why he can’t, but damn…it sucks

Dammit, Sam. Are you really going to go meet Ruby? And now Jimmy’s trying to leave too?

Oh no. It’s worse. He’s got a FLASK OF DEMON BLOOD TO DRINK. Sam. Cut it tf out

Cas…asked you to boil your hand to prove your faith?? On the chance it wouldn’t hurt you???

I……there’s a lot that could be said about Jimmy’s wife’s treatment of him after Cas starts talking to him. I haven’t pieced my thoughts on it together just yet. WE know this isn’t a mental health crisis, but I can understand why she would think so. Angels and demons don’t have a real place in our modern world even though these people claim to believe in them

Ohhhhhhh she started dating again?? No, but Jimmy’s best friend got possessed….

JESUS, SAM. A little harsh there

Oh this poor family…noooooo!!!! Amelia’s possessed too?? Fuck.

Jimmyyyyyyy. I know this isn’t Cas’s fault but it’s still hard to watch him rail against Castiel. Because he DID promise and that promise got broken

Yikes. Now Dean knows Sam’s been drinking demon blood to get his psychic powers goin. That’s gonna be a fun argument later

Uh oh. Castiel’s been through some kinda reconditioning program in Heaven

Oh shit. Yeah, Sam definitely needs a demon blood detox.

“Been On My Mind…”: No. too much apocalypse stuff going on. 8?

“The Sound of Drums”

Plot Description: When Harry Saxon becomes Prime Minister, a reign of terror begins. But his dark ambitions reach far beyond the stars, and an audacious plan spanning the whole of time and space begins to close around the Earth

John Simms has the PERFECT villainous smile.

I’m not saying I like Lucy Saxon, but, as a lifelong villain fucker, I am jealous of her living my dream

He just killed the whole cabinet

Ohhh, Martha is going to regret not listening to her sister’s full voicemail

Rip that journalist. She was doing such good work, digging up the fraud of Harold Saxon

Interesting that Martha’s dad was suspicious the whole time

I’d love to one day get into Old Who. Get the full scoop on the Doctor and the Master. Because this phone call between them??? Oooooo boy. The first time they’ve spoken since the Time War??? Like…the Master was forcibly resurrected by the Time Lords to be their perfect soldier in the Time War and the Doctor ended it by killing then all and destroying Gallifrey. And the Master ran to the end of the universe. It’s…if it’s all real…it’s beautiful and tragic

Does the Master think the teletubbies are REAL???? (Not a sentence I thought I’d type tonight if ever)

Feels wrong to make every eight year old on your planet stare into eternity. Just seriously messed up

Eugh…”it’s like when you fancy someone and they don’t know you exist” BRUTAL, Doc

Of COURSE the US president shows up for this. Though, I suppose if it’s on behalf of whatever agreement the UN came up with regarding first contact with extraterrestrial life…I dunno still feels eye roll-y that it HAD to be the US president (on our part, not the show’s)

(Did horikoshi also watch Doctor Who?? “He’s a Time Lord which makes him my responsibility. I’m not here to kill him. I’m here to save him” that’s a shoto line if I ever heard one)

Why is grits the American equivalent to tea??? It’s not. It’s really really not

WHAT DOES THAT MEEEEEEEEAN??? It’s a paradox machiiiiiiiiiine

We…we’ve gotta find out what toclafane (I’m only GUESSING at spelling here) are next time, right??

Episodes Since The Doctor’s Last Attempted Genocide: 9

[obeymeoasis]

Demon Bros React: MC Defends Them From Nasty Remarks

Warnings: Explicit language, MC being mildly violent (throwing/kicking things).

Lucifer

Lucifer had just finished some paperwork for Diavolo and was on his way to R.A.D to deliver it.

In the hallway he could hear two demons talking and laughing. As he got closer he heard them say "Lucifer" and instinctively ducked into a nearby alcove.

"Lucifer's such an asshole." "I know, right? He acts like he's so much better than the rest of us when really, he just has a huge stick up his ass. It's no wonder he doesn't have any friends. Even his own brothers don't like him!" "He'll probably spend the rest of his life being Diavolo’s little bitch."

He would be lying if the comments didn't make him angry. But it was far from the worst thing he had heard about himself and would definitely not be the last time someone spoke ill of him.

With a weary sigh, Lucifer turned toward the south entrance where he could walk in order to avoid the demons. He could have strode past and glared at them menacingly. He could have made them grovel on their knees. But he was honestly exhausted and looked forward to this day being over as soon as possible. Plus, it would reflect poorly on Lord Diavolo if he started a fight with some lesser demons over this.

Suddenly, the chatter of the demons was interrupted by a loud thumping sound followed by the sound of one of the demons screeching in pain.

Lucifer quickly turned around to see- Oh no. You were standing in front of the demons, rage clear on your face. The demon who had yelled in pain was crouched on the ground holding his bruised shoulder. A History of the Devildom textbook was open on the ground, pages crumpled.

Did you... did you just throw a textbook at a demon?

Before he could even move, he heard your angry voice. "Listen here you fuckers. How dare you talk about Lucifer like that. He's one of the kindest, most intelligent, most thoughtful beings I've ever met. And you have no right to speak of him like that! I love him!"

Lucifer's heart burst at your declaration, his cheeks warming in pleasure. The two demons however, who had been gaping at you in shock, were now beginning to look murderous. The injured one stood up and slowly inched toward you, a vicious grin on his face. "Oh, is that so? And what the hell is a weak human like you going to do about it?"

You opened your mouth to speak but before you could say anything, Lucifer picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. "Love, I appreciate how you stood up for me. There's not many people who have done so for me before. But any more would cause trouble. And also, please don't throw textbooks at others, no matter how much you think they deserve it."

With a smug smile on his face, Lucifer began to walk toward the dorms. You, however, were struggling to turn your head around, still yelling and pointing angrily at the demons. "This isn't over! Sleep with your eyes wide open! You'll be hearing from my lawyer!"

He really did love you.

Mammon

Mammon was at the casino on a Monday night. It was lively as always, crowds of people playing group games and others drinking and mingling.

But for some reason, Mammon felt like being alone. He was in one of the more quiet corners, playing the slot machines.

He honestly should have been back at the dorms doing his homework. He was here because he felt like he had to, but his heart wasn't really in it. Mammon thought about packing it up early and texting you to see if you wanted to hang out.

The sudden sound of glass shattering broke through his thoughts. There was some sort of commotion going on and Mammon could hear angry yelling and cursing, some kind of argument.

Like many of the other customers, Mammon drifted toward the noise wanting to see what had happened. His heart sank when he saw you in the middle of the crowd, still in your R.A.D uniform, arguing with an older demon who Mammon recognized as a regular. They had played some games together before that always ended in angry accusations. The remains of a drinking glass lay shattered on the floor.

Mammon quickly rushed to your side. "MC, what the hell are you doing here?! What happened?" Up close he could see how livid you looked, you were trembling with fury.

The older demon opened his mouth while gesturing at his ruined clothes. "This bitch threw a drink at me! I should have them arrested! Do you know how much this tuxedo costs?" Ignoring him, you turned to face Mammon.

"Mams, Lucifer told me to check up on you and you weren't answering my calls. So I decided to come in person to make sure you were okay. But then I heard this asshole saying terrible things about you to his friends, calling you a liar and a cheater and all kinds of horrible names that you're not!"

Mammon was shocked to see you were struggling to fight off your tears, your lower lip quivering. "I know how caring and genuine and loving you are and I couldn't stand by while he said those things about you! None of it’s true!"

Overcome with emotion Mammon embraced you fiercely, shielding you from the other demon. "Oh, babe. Ya really are a special one.” Mammon gently stroked your hair and whispered in your ear. “I don't care about what he said, but thanks for sticking up for me. I love ya so much."

"Now let's make a run for it so that demon doesn't kill us."

Leviathan

Levi was slowly getting used to being in a relationship with you in public. At first, interactions were limited to the privacy of his room: cuddling and watching movies, gaming together, reading manga together. But now he looked forward to waiting for you after classes and walking home with you while holding hands.

His face got really red and he had a hard time making eye contact with you but still, he thought it was an improvement.

Right now he was waiting for you outside your classroom, scrolling through his D.D.D to kill time. Suddenly, he heard someone call your name.

“MC, you’re dating Levi right?” At the sound of his name he peeked in the window to see you cornered by three demons. He saw you nod. 

The demons began to barrage you with questions. “Why are you with a loser like that? Doesn’t he like never leave his room?” “He’s honestly the ugliest out of his family. I don’t believe that Levi and Asmo are related.” “You don’t actually find him attractive, do you?” “Are you with him ‘cause he’s like the easiest to control?” 

Each word felt like someone was piercing his heart. These were all things that he had thought or wondered himself, days when the darkness seemed to win over his mind. But to have them spoken out loud, especially in front of you, it was unbearable. It was as if his lowest and most shameful thoughts were being justified.

He was afraid to hear what your answers would be. Biting his lower lip, Levi turned to head home by himself but flinched at the loud sound of something slamming into the wall. He peeked inside the window again and saw you standing there, furious, your hands clenched into fists. You had apparently kicked one of the desks into the wall, black scuff marks clearly visible against the white paint.

“Alright, listen here you despicable fucks because I’m only going to say this once. My relationship with Levi is private, meaning all of your questions can be answered with ‘none of your damn business’. But since you’ve gone out of your way to waste my time, I’ll let you know this: Leviathan is more beautiful, inside and out, than any of you will ever be in your entire miserable lives. I honestly don’t think you deserve to breathe the same air as him and I hope Levi summons Lotan to devour the three of you."

Levi’s jaw was on the floor. He had never heard you speak that way. He had never had someone defend him so fiercely. His thoughts were interrupted by the classroom door suddenly slamming open as you walked out."

“Oh Levi, tell me you didn’t hear anything just now.” Your eyes were wide and you looked at him nervously.

Levi grabbed your hand and held it tight between two of his own. “I did, but it’s alright. Thanks for what you said.”

“Anything for my Lord of Shadows.”

Satan

Satan was heading to the library, your usual after-school spot. Some days you two spent hours there doing homework, reading, or just chatting quietly about your day before heading to dinner.

As he approached the table he saw you sitting down with a stranger seated opposite you. Leaning closer he was relieved to see it was a classmate you were friendly with, someone he knew you hung out with occasionally.

Satan was about to say hello when he stopped at the mention of his name. "MC, are you sure it's wise to be this involved with Satan?"

He quickly ducked behind a nearby bookshelf. Satan usually wasn't one to eavesdrop like this but the question concerned him.

"MC, I'm asking you for your sake. Satan is dangerous. He's violent and cruel. There are rumors about him beating up other demons and doing horrible things to them. What if he tries to hurt you too?"

Satan flinched. Sure his wrath had led him to do some destructive things before, but it was never without reason. Is this how you saw him as well? His thoughts began to spiral. What if you grew scared of him? Of his wrath? What if you flinched at his touch? That would hurt more than any of the rumors that swirled about him. 

Satan saw you take a deep breath before speaking. "Well, I appreciate you talking to me about this. I know you meant the best and were just thinking about me. But I promise you, you have nothing to be worried about. Satan would never hurt me."

He saw your friend shake their head, exasperated. "But you don't know that! What if one day he can't control himself and has an outburst or something?"

You replied carefully. "Satan is gentle. Incredibly so. He always treats me with nothing but respect and kindness. And Satan's not some kind of monster. He knows how to control himself and his powers. I love him. I really do. And until he decides to stop loving me, I want to be by his side."

He saw your friend huff irritably and get up to walk away. "Suit yourself, MC. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Satan took this as his cue to walk over. Your eyes brightened at the sight of him and you started to ask him about his day, acting as if nothing had happened. Satan played along for a bit, but then reached across the table for your hand and began playing with your fingers.

His hand was shaking. "I'll never stop loving you, you know. For as long as I live you're the only one for me. I love you, MC."

Asmodeus

Asmo was thrilled when you said you wanted to go dancing with him because he was usually the one pestering you to do things. He was having so much fun with you tonight, twirling you around on the dance floor and marveling how beautiful you looked under the shimmering lights of the club.

He was beginning to feel a bit hot, however, and excused himself to the bathroom, making sure you were safe on of the couches with a bottle of water in your hand.

Asmo had just finished touching up his makeup and adjusting his outfit when he heard two demons near the entrance of the bathroom gossiping loudly about him.

“Did you see what he was wearing tonight? He might as well have come naked instead of wearing those scraps of fabric he thinks counts as an outfit.” “My friend slept with Asmo once. She said he’s super easy, he’s willing to pretty much sleep with anyone.” “I bet him and that human won’t last another week. Once he’s done with them he’ll trash ‘em and move on to the next one, like he always does.”

Being the Avatar of Lust meant that Asmo had heard these kinds of comments before, whispered in the hallways at R.A.D or the dark hallways of nightclubs. It never really got easier listening to them though, and he realized he was biting down hard on his lower lip, his nails digging into his palm. 

Asmo contemplated what to do. He didn’t want to keep you waiting by yourself outside but he also didn’t want to run into the demons talking about him. Their comments affected him more than he thought they would. Maybe it was because you were involved. He wouldn’t do that to you. You knew that right? He would never treat you like a plaything.

Taking a deep breath and steeling his nerves Asmo schooled his face into an expression of careless indifference. He took a step outside, ready to greet his "fans", but was surprised to see that you had gotten there first.

And what a sight you were. Despite being much shorter than the two demons, it seemed you were the least bit intimidated. Your glare was ice cold as you gestured wildly at the two of them, and moving closer Asmo realized you were screaming.

"How fucking dare you say such vile things? You don't know the first thing about Asmo. You're really going to shame someone for what they wear?! For what they do in the privacy of their bedroom?!"

You pointed angrily at the demons, who seemed too stunned to move or say anything. "People like you make me fucking sick. You're despicable! Talking as if you're so high and mighty when all you do is judge others! How dare you? You cowards!"

Asmo could see you were getting more and more enraged and your hands were beginning to tremble. He leapt forward to stand between you and the demons and put his hands gently on your shoulders. Once he saw that you were okay, he gave you a passionate kiss, his mouth hot and needy against yours.

You kissed him back for a moment but moved away to hiss, "Karens, Asmo! Karens in the fucking Devildom, who would have thought?!"

"I know, darling. Let's head home. We can have a nice, relaxing bubble bath together."

Beelzebub

Beel was looking through the menu, deciding between a couple of his favorite dishes. It was your one year anniversary and despite his insistent protests, you had remained firm in your decision to pay for that night’s meal. Ever since you and Beel began dating, he pretty much always paid for your meals together because of how much he ate. But tonight, you wanted to be the one to treat him for once.

Beel knew you had secretly been saving up Grimm and he’d feel so guilty if you spent it all on him. Which was why he was trying to decide between a couple of different things, when normally he would have ordered everything on the page.

“Babe, please order whatever you want. I can practically see the thoughts turning in your head. I told you that I wanted to pay for tonight and I’m going to keep that promise. I want this to be a special night for us, so don’t worry about it.” Before he could protest, you called the waiter over.

Beel sighed and knew there was no changing your mind on this. You were incredibly stubborn when you wanted to be. He rattled off his usual order as the waiter frantically scribbled down notes, struggling to keep up. Once finished, Beel handed over the menus and smiled at how cute you looked, a mixture of pride and smugness on your face.

But your expression soon turned sour as you heard the conversation from a couple sitting a few tables over. Their voices were intentionally loud and they kept sneaking glances at your table as if to watch your reactions.

“Oh my lord, honey did you see how much food that guy just ordered? What an absolute pig!” “I saw, darling. I honestly pity his date right now, they must be soooo embarrassed.” “Is there anyone who wouldn’t be ashamed to be seen in public with such a selfish glutton?”

Beel’s heart felt like it had sunk. Embarrassed? Was MC embarrassed to be seen with him? Panicking, Beel thought back to all of the dates he’d had with MC so far. He realized that they ate out a good majority of the time they hung out, with Beel eating his normal enormous portions each time. Oh no, what had he done?

Head bowed, Beel slowly looked up at you, afraid to see what kind of expression you were making. But to his surprise, you didn’t look embarrassed or ashamed at all. You looked like you were going to murder someone.

He watched as you cleared your throat and then began speaking even more loudly than the couple had been. “OH BEEL, MY HANDSOME, KIND, LOVING, STRONG, SEXY, TALENTED BOYFRIEND. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! YOU’RE HONESTLY SO AMAZING AND ONE OF THE QUALITIES I LOVE ABOUT YOU MOST IS THAT YOU’RE NOT A JUDGMENTAL ASSHOLE WHO MAKES RUDE INAPPROPRIATE COMMENTS TO STRANGERS ABOUT THINGS THAT ARE NONE OF THEIR DAMN BUSINESS!” 

Beel felt his lips inch into a smile and he flushed with amusement and happiness. But you weren’t finished just yet. “EXCUSE ME WAITER?” 

Your waiter practically ran to the table and looked between you two nervously, then at the couple glaring daggers in your direction. “COULD YOU PLEASE BRING US ANOTHER MENU? MY BOYFRIEND WASN’T FINISHED WITH ORDERING WHAT HE WANTS. OH BEEL, I LOVE HOW MUCH YOU EAT. HOW COULD SOMEONE BE EMBARRASSED OF A WONDERFUL GUY LIKE YOU?”

Beel took the menu and began listing some more foods at random, not really paying attention. He was too busy thinking about how much he loved you, how nobody aside from Belphie had ever stood up for him like that, had protected him like that. His cheeks felt like they were about to split from how much he was smiling.

When the waiter finally left, looking frazzled, Beel made his way over to your side of the table. He knelt down and nuzzled into your neck before giving you a tender kiss on your forehead. “MC, you’re amazing.”

Belphegor

Belphie had to admit, the gardens were a pretty nice place for a nap. Earlier in the day you had practically dragged him outside claiming that you were bored of sleeping in his room. As if that was even possible.

At first he was pretty annoyed that you were making him get up and move around. But the newly washed picnic blanket, the cool breeze rustling through the trees, and the light smell of flowers in the air all contributed to a very nice environment for a nap.

Belphie rested his head on your lap, already feeling his eyelids growing heavier. Your fingers gently combed through his hair, lightly scratching against his scalp, and he practically purred.

He guessed he had been asleep for about ten minutes when he awoke to the sound of your voice and something prodding against his knee.

Irritated at the disturbance, Belphie looked up to see two R.A.D students he recognized for always causing trouble. He looked over to see you scowling and guessed you had been telling them to leave so they wouldn't wake him up.

One of the students leered down, blocking out the light, and used the tip of his foot to poke Belphie's knee again. "Well the two of you make an odd fucking pair, huh?” He sneered, “Personally, I don’t date people who have MURDERED me in the past but what do I know? Love works in all kinds of mysterious ways.” You flinched as if someone had slapped you and Belphie growled, his hands curling into fists.

The other student leaned down to clap Belphie on the shoulder. “I gotta admit I didn’t know you had it in you, chief! I always thought you were...” He gave Belphie a once-over before adding “Well, everyone thinks you’re a bit fucking useless, eh? But I’m glad to see you’re capable of something.”

Belphie opened his mouth to reply venomously but was interrupted by the most horrifying sound coming from your mouth. It sounded like a combination of wailing and screeching as fat tears rolled down your cheeks. It was difficult to hear what exactly you were saying because of how hard you were crying, but Belphie could make out “How could you say that?!” and “Leave him alone!” among the screams. 

The two students had their hands over their ears, their faces twisted into grimaces of pain. One shouted, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Worried, Belphie put a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to calm you down but you shrugged it off, continuing to cry and wail. Pretty soon other students began gathering around you, whispering amongst themselves and looking to see what all the noise and commotion was about. It was difficult to ignore you when you kept yelling things like “You’re horrible! Horrible! Leave us alone!” 

The two instigators looked at each other for a brief moment before deciding to run off, not wanting to get involved any further. And as soon as they left, it was like a switch had been turned off. You stopped crying and screaming immediately. If he hadn’t been there from the beginning, Belphie never would have guessed that you had been crying. Your face was perfectly calm and you sat relaxed with your hands folded, the picture of innocence.

“Belphie, don’t worry about what those two idiots said. We’ve talked about it enough and we’ve both worked it out, haven’t we? And you’re not useless. You know how much I love you and care about you. You mean so much to me.” 

Belphie leaned over to take your hand in his trembling one. He reached down to brush a stray leaf out of your hair before whispering, “MC, you’re fucking terrifying sometimes. I love you.”

[beels-burger-babe]

I Burn For You

***So THIS has been stuck in my head all day and I just- I love it. I love it so much. And it reminded me...So you guys all know how I hate/love Lucifer...it gave me those vibes. So........... Well I haven't written anything actually relevant to The Facade of the Suitor or anything else that I've been procrastinating, I have been able to push out this little short inspired by this beauty of a duet that is EVERYTHING to me. -B***

Summary: Since MC's arrival, Lucifer and them have never fully gotten along. There was always a large, unknown and undiscussed tension between them and they were fine to keep it that way. But when MC's security in the Devildom is threatened by both the angels and the nobility of the Devildom itself, everything changes. As a ruse to persuade the celestial realm, MC and Lucifer wed. After the ceremony, they finally talk about the unacknowledged feelings burning inside of both of them.

MC x Lucifer

The air hung heavy and thick like the gold bands that now decorated both of your fingers.

You and Lucifer stood on opposite sides of the room, your backs facing one another with nothing but silence between you.

You couldn't help but reminisce on how you got here, on your supposed 'honeymoon' married to none other but the prideful, arrogant, avatar of sin, Lucifer Morningstar himself.

Diavolo had burst into the House of Lamentation an entire month ago. He desperately explained how the angels had received word about you through the fond, innocent-intending, stories of Luke and we're demanding that you be 'released' from your 'imprisonment in the infernal Devildom and that they wished to cleanse you of the 'hellish corruption' the demons had 'forced upon you' through your pacts. Wanting to avoid yet another Celestial War, even on a small scale, the noble court had wanted to agree and simply hand you over to them, cut your pacts, and banish you from returning as an act of agreement and co-operation with the angels.

Obviously, this didn't sit well with you or any of the brothers.

You had all tried to come up with a number of plans, but they all promised retaliation from the angels.

Eventually, it was Lucifer himself who begrudgingly came up with the final plan. The angels wouldn't believe you if you simply told them that you liked it here and wanted to stay. They'd think you were charmed or manipulated. However, if the two of you worked together, and pretended to be in a relationship, convince the angels of your 'genuine' feelings and prove to them that you were in love, and finalize this by marrying Lucifer, it just might work.

First of all, love was something that had sparked war in the past, that both sides had learned from and had grown to deeply treasure and value. Secondly, Micheal, head Archangel of the Celestial Realm, trusted Lucifer the most of all the brothers. The two of you could take advantage of that use it to convince him that you were actually safer in the Devildom by Lucifer's side. And finally, if you were willingly bound by marriage, there was very little that the Celestial Realm could do to force you to leave.

The plan wasn't terrible, but there was one thing about it that caused you to clench your fists and grind your teeth: it was with Lucifer.

Lucifer who constantly teased you and pushed your buttons in a way that he knew would cause you to either give in to him or snap.

Lucifer who was cruel and sadistic and did nothing unless there was some personal gain or it was under the demand of his precious Diavolo.

Lucifer who never ever put anything before his own stupid pride.

Though you were normally a calm and positive person, there was just something about Lucifer that had always caused an inferno of anger and rebellion to burn within you. You felt this strong need to constantly prove him wrong and to defy him.

As a result, the two of you consistently butted heads, arguing about Lucifer's treatment of his brothers and your recklessness on an almost weekly basis.

The idea of being chained to this...this demon for the rest of your mortal life caused your stomach to twist tightly into knots. Though, if it ensured you'd be able to stay with the rest of your found family? You'd make the necessary sacrifice.

So the two of you did the whole show. You went on dates, smiled and laughed together as though you were the lead roles in a Hallmark Christmas movie, and played every card in the book to convince the angels that you were safe and happy under the kind watch of your lover.

Those weeks had started off painful, as you pushed back all feelings of disdain for the eldest brother to play the role of the perfect partner. But as time passed, you hadn't noticed that it had become easier and easier to stay by his side. The smiles you gave him were no longer forced, but sincere ones that brought joy. The lines between what was real and what was fake began to blur.

You sealed the deal with your wedding only a few hours ago.

The vows Lucifer had spoken...promising to watch and protect you even as your skin wrinkled and your hair grew grey. To hold your hand and aid you when you no longer had the strength. To shower you in love and devotion even in your final hours.

They had been spoken with such passion and raw emotion that you didn't dare think too deeply about. It had caused your breath to catch in your throat, and you had to remind yourself that this was all an act. Soon the curtain would close, and Lucifer would return to the cold-hearted monster that you knew.

Yet even now, hours after the ceremony had finished, you couldn't get that intense gaze, and the sparks that exploded under your fingertips as his hands gently squeezed yours, out of your head.

Lucifer sighed from the other side of the room and glanced over at you. "Are we just going to continue ignoring each other?"

You scoffed and turned your head further away; ignoring the loud pounding of your heart and instead focusing on the flickers of frustration licking up your gut. "What else are we supposed to do? There's no one else around. The act is over."

You whirled around at his sarcasm and could practically feel the wrath blazing behind your eyes. "Sorry, my Lord, if I'm not exactly giddy about the fact that I just signed myself to the likes of you just for the approval of some fluffy winged assholes!"

You could practically hear Lucifer roll his eyes as he walked over to the liquor cart and poured himself a drink. "Right. So you just plan to spend the entirety of the weekend that Micheal paid for us brooding in a corner? How mature of you."

Lucifer, the fucker, had the gull to act unphased and casually swirled his drink in his hand. "It could be much, much worse," he took a sip of the amber liquid before staring down in his glass. "It's not as though you didn't agree to this."

"Only because I didn't want to be kicked out of the Devildom and never allowed to see your brothers again!" You growled. Your anger only grew as you noticed him clench his fingers tighter around the glass. You groaned and ran a hand through your hair. "This was a stupid plan! You probably just invented this entire ruse as yet another way to get under my skin. Well congratulations, Lucifer. You win!"

You refused to look at him, as you turned your heated gaze out the window.

You didn't see the flash of hurt that washed over his expression, nor hear the way his breath caught in his throat. "Is being married to me truly that awful? Are you honestly telling me that you haven't enjoyed even a single second of this past month?"

You tensed and crossed your arms over your chest, as you continued to avoid looking at him. "What kind of question is that? You're a demon who cares about nothing but himself," you pursed your lips and mentally tried to deny just how wrong those words felt on your tongue.

"I wouldn't say that's true. Believe it or not, I do care for my brothers." There was a shaky breath, one so uncharacteristic for the confident Morningstar, before he continued. "And you. I did promise to love you until your final breath after all, and I do not break my promises."

There was silence once again. Though this quiet seemed to crackle with the anticipation for something, though neither of you quite knew what.

You closed your eyes, refusing to acknowledge the flutter in your heart at his words. "Those vows were only part of the act. They weren't real."

"Perhaps not for you," your eyes snapped open at the response. You looked back at the demon. Lucifer stood leaning against the wall, drink still in hand, as he stared intensely at the floor. "This may have all been an act for you, MC, but it stopped being a ruse for me mere hours after we began."

You felt yourself frown as you stared at him. Your traitor heart dared to grow warm with hope, only adding fuel to the growing frustration inside you. "You're lying. You're just trying to get me worked up again."

"Actually, I'm not," his eyes met yours and it felt as though time froze. His expression was so unguarded, so honest. For once, you looked into his eyes and you could see every emotion that he wore openly before you. You could see the hurt, the certainty, and most of all the same passionate love that shone so brightly in them throughout the ceremony. "From the moment I met you, you caused a fire to ignite in my heart. I was determined to control you and to make you be the human representative for Diavolo. But then, you acted against me, and that changed. I still wanted to make sure that you fulfilling your purpose in the exchange program, but I took on the challenge of finally having you respect and listen to me. You were stubborn and fierce, yet so beautifully driven and I admired that." your eyes widened at the admission. "It wasn't until I was forced to look at you in a romantic light for this scheme that I understood the true nature of these feelings. It wasn't that I wanted to control you, or break you, or shape you into what I needed. It was so much deeper, so much more dangerous than that. I wanted to have you fall in love for me, as I had fallen for you, and make you mine."

He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. "I know you don't feel the same. I've accepted that. But I...I'm done with acting like this isn't real for me. I refuse to pretend that there's nothing there between us any longer."

He finally broke eye contact, looking back at his now empty glass as you practically gaped at him. Love. Lucifer...loved you? You gulped and took a step towards him, "Lucifer..."

The fire burning within you consumed you as your face heated up. "You...You love me? You actually love me?"

You flinched as he glared sharply at you. "Don't rub it in."

You didn't know what to make of that. You weren't sure what to make of any of this. Your feelings towards Lucifer had changed over the past month, but you had assumed that was simply part of the act. But if everything he had done and said as you two were pretending to be a couple was real, then what did that mean for you?

What did that mean for the way the sight of him caused your heart to skip? Or the way his rare smiles never failed to make you smile back? Or the unwavering sense of comfort and security that he provided?

What did that mean for the ruthless, scalding fire that he had always caused to rage inside you? You always assumed it was anger, but what if...

You gasped in realization. "I burn for you."

The demon tensed as he blinked in confusion. "You...I'm sorry, you what?"

You moved closer to him, each step more certain than the last, as you shakily spoke the words that rang through you. "I burn for you, Lucifer. I don't know entirely what it means myself, but ever since we met you've caused this irrational passion and drive to sear inside of me. I-I had always assumed it was hatred. You're so infuriating. Every word you speak does nothing but cause that fire to flare brighter within in. Every action leaves me filled with sparks of restless energy that won't be satiated until I combust at you," as you now stood nearly toe to toe with him, you grabbed his hand and placed it over your roaring heart. Hope flickered like a candle in the darkness of his black eyes. "I had thought that this couldn't be anything other than anger and hatred. I refused to believe even the possibility that it could be anything else. But this past month you...you were honest and almost kind and vulnerable. Your teasing didn't make me want to punch you, but rather made me laugh. You showed me a side of you that I didn't even know existed. I...I think-"

You were cut off by a finger on your lips. Lucifer looked down at you with a stern, cold expression. The action paired with that face would've caused you to become infuriated by his audacity and superiority complex in the past. But now you could see past it, and could see it for what it truly was: a carefully crafted barrier that hid his most vulnerable feelings and protected him. "If you do not mean the words you were about to say, if you are pitying me, I must demand that you stop here. Do not say those words unless you truly mean them," his deep voice was tinged with distrust and caution.

You held his gaze as you kissed the pad of the finger against your lips and whispered gently, "Lucifer, I think that I love you."

Suddenly your lips were captured in his as he pulled you close and ever so adoringly cupped your face. For the first time since meeting him, the flames inside you were extinguished by the cold touch of his hands on your face and the surprising gentleness of his affection.

His hand slid from your face and came to rest on your shoulder as his eyes widened. His gaze scanned your expression for any traces of falsehood or insincerity. You could hear the breath leave his lungs as he found none.

He softly kissed his temple, effectively hiding his face as it grew redder and whispered, "Of course, beloved."

Lucifer laughed as he pulled away, his thumb caressing your cheek, as he smiled. "To think it only took us getting married to realize it," you laughed as you felt happy tears prick the corners of your eyes. Lucifer sighed in content as rested his forehead against yours. "Remind me to send a thank you to, Micheal."

You hummed and nuzzled closer to him as you rested your head on his shoulder. "Forget Micheal. He's still an asshole as far as I'm concerned. Instead, focus on me. On us. I want to learn everything about you, about the real you," you smiled as he looked down at you with flushed cheeks. "My husband, Lucifer Morningstar."

You couldn't help but wonder how you had been so oblivious to your true feelings as a shiver ran down your spine and warmth spread throughout your chest simultaneously.

This honest and pure love between the two of you, was new, yet it felt so familiar, and it was abundantly clear to both of you that the depth of those feelings would only become clearer and clearer in time as the fires of your love only grew.

***Gasp. I actually finished something. Would you look at that. Well, I hope you guys enjoyed this little fic! Thank you so much for your support during my hiatus and for being so understanding. I love you guys! Thanks again for reading!***

Taglist: @thegrimgrinningghost @henry-and-the-seven-lords @satans-beloved-riv @cosmixbun @sufzku @lovelymushi @victoireshaven @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @yukihaie @justtiarra @mammoneybb @obeys-world @poly-bi-mf @armycandy10 @burrixino

[stetervault]

Hiii! Been delving into Steter now, in the year of our lord 2021, even though I never really did when I was active in the fandom years ago and I was wondering if you'd have some longfic recs for the ship? Like, fics that are Classics(TM)? But happy endings! And I'm not super into those in which Stiles is still underage 😬 do u have any recs? Thanks!

Welcome to the Steter fandom! I definitely have some long fics to rec, some of them are super old lol, and I'll stick to ones around 20k or over, and most of them are finished. And hmm, considering the ship, and a lot of fics like to start off in season 1 where Stiles is still technically a teenager, I'll try to limit these to ones with Stiles being at least 16/17 before anything starts happening, and only 18+ if there's explicit content. I hope that's okay.

drowning in the sea of you by Corpium

Beacon Hills was perfect for Stiles growing up, but now, with werewolves, hunters, and an anxious best friend running around, it's turning into a place too chaotic for an empath like Stiles to handle alone. And pain killers can only go so far.

Wake Me Up by ToAStranger

Stiles has been in a coma for six years. Now he's awake.

Tremors by Corpium

(Stiles has a taste for him now. All Peter needs to do is wait.)

Surviving Peter and the Zombie Apocalypse by Nopennamesleft

Its the end of the world and Stiles has run out of luck. He saves a werewolf from certain death. Will they begin to rely on each other to survive or will the wolf just eat Stiles for a midnight snack?

Bite Down by EclipseWing

In which Stiles is forced to survive the zombie apocalypse with a sociopathic murdering werewolf for company.

as you are by veterization

Stiles runs straight into a tree and suddenly, things are... different. Namely, he's in a world where Peter Hale is his boyfriend.

Call My Name by KouriArashi

After moving to Beacon Hills, Stiles starts having recurring dreams of a man in some kind of prison, who needs his help. Things get so bad that he ends up in Eichen House, where he finds out that the man is real.

Devil of Mercy by KouriArashi

Peter's heard people talk about what it felt like when they saw their mate for the first time, from those who actually believe in the mystical bullshit. Like a magnet, like gravity. Peter just feels... sharply curious.

Whiskey is My Kind of Lullaby by taylorpotato

Peter is a simple saloon owner on one of the outer planets between the Aaru Belt and the Olympus Galaxy. He’s done with trouble. Done with adventure. So fucking done with rustlers. That is, until a cute young outlaw named Stiles wanders into his bar. Peter has this problem where he can’t seem to resist charming narcissists (perhaps because they remind him of himself). And when said narcissists turn his life upside-down, the worst part is he’s not even that upset about it.

Proposing To Strangers by moonstalker24

At the end of a strained relationship, crime novelist Stiles chooses to hide from the world inside a bar with far too many motorcycles outside it for comfort. Here he'll meet the man of his dreams, eat food and propose marriage, all within the first five minutes.

Peter doesn't know who this kid is, but he's cute and looks like he could use a break. So he feeds him. He's not expecting a marriage proposal, but with what comes after, he doesn't really mind.

Stiles Stilinski, Disaster Chef by Guede

The zombie apocalypse forces Stiles to learn how to cook.

The Will by Guede

We are gathered here today for the reading of Gerard Argent’s will.

On the Importance of Lunar Influences in Gardening by Guede

“Oh, it’s you again,” Stiles sighs. He puts down his basket and drops the bunch of onions into it, and then dusts off his hands. “Can’t you get your own strawberries? I mean, I have it on good authority that wild strawberries? They’re a thing. They exist. They’re out there.”

“But Stiles,” says the werewolf dangling by one foot from the tree, sticky red smears around his mouth and all over his fingers. “Your berries are so juicy, so ripe. Those ones in the woods are mere passing indulgences compared to the royal feast you have in your garden.”

Genii loci Stiles and his father run a community garden, and it’s all good, except for the werewolf who keeps sneaking over the fence to raid Stiles’ strawberry patch (and the hunter who’s constantly hanging around his father).

Runes and all kinds of things by FeelingsDusk (WIP)

Enough is enough. Stiles is tired of being always a last choice when he always tries to do his best for his precious people, so they better get their act together or face being left behind.

OR

The things in the Argent's basement get nearly fatal, the Sheriff finds about the supernatural, Allison can have a wicked, wicked mind and Peter Hale appears to be everywhere.

Oh, and Stiles can't seem to stop breaking the laws of physics with his magic.

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Out Of The East, Never See The Sun Rise by neglectedtuesday

In the beginning, there are three absolutes.

One. Stiles is a god, forged of starlight and collapsing galaxies and he is eternal.

Two. Peter is human, fragile bone and viscous blood and he is temporary.

Three. Stiles and Peter are in love; love that claws its way inside one’s heart like fish hooks; all encompassing love that is beautiful but dangerous.

Stiles is a god. Peter is human. They love each other.

Three absolutes.

You Had Me at Canapes by LadyArinn

Stiles doesn't mean to sneak into the Hale wedding, and he certainly doesn't mean to have cliche coat-room sex with the bride's uncle, but what had happened, happened, and it wasn't like he could just leave. At least, not until he got to have some of that cake.

Infinite Space by DiscontentedWinter

Stiles needs Peter's expertise to help stop the latest threat to Beacon Hills. And, as the pack falls apart around him, he might even need Peter for more than that.

Hook, Yarn, Sinker by pprfaith

Stiles is happy with his store, his hobbies, his friends. Peter's just trying to figure out how to raise his nieces and nephew without fucking them up too badly.

Paths cross.

Open Wounds by Guede

Talia got out of the fire with Peter, but everyone else died. Years later, they’re still struggling with injuries, but they’ve at least settled in with oddball werewolf Stiles. And then other werewolves start showing up. Familiar ones.

Bittersweet Creek by Guede

When Stiles finally steps off the westward trail to California, he’s the last of his pack. He starts building a den, but then he finds a dying man next to a burnt-down house and it turns out he’s not really much of a settler, after all.

For Great Justice! by Green

Stiles is a vengeance demon, drawn to Peter just as he's waking from his catatonia.

"Whoever did this? We will make those fuckers suffer. I promise you."

Bone Deep by ShippersList

A body in the woods, a mate, and a long-awaited revenge.

Peter had no idea how his life would change when he followed the strange pull in his chest.

Love What is Behind You by KouriArashi

Basically what it says on the label. Hunger Games type fusion. Stiles doing way better than anyone anticipates. Peter finds him intriguing. Ruthless, devious assholes working together to ruin bad guys, as the Steter ship is meant to be.

Soothing the Burn by Therapeutic_Steter (WIP)

Peter is burnt out and breaking down. Stiles notices and offers him solace, along with the one thing he wants most: Pack.

Til Death by Bunnywest

“How long do we have to find him someone?” Stiles asks. “Two weeks,” says Derek, eyebrows pulling down even further. The fierceness of his expression tells Stiles just how concerned he is. “He marries, or he goes to the camps. And you know what your father told us,” Scott reminds her. The camps……aren’t camps. Peter either finds a wife, or he dies.

Ink Blossoms by Triangulum

"So, you're going to ruin your niece's baby shower with flowers in the wrong color?" the florist, Stiles, asks when they reach the counter. He pulls out a binder and starts flipping through it.

"Not ruin. Mildly inconvenience," Peter says.

"Right, messing with a hormonal pregnant woman seems like a great plan."

"To be fair, her fiance and the father of her baby is my ex-boyfriend," Peter says. "And we weren't broken up when they started 'dating'."

Stiles looks up at him in surprise. "And you're still getting her flowers?" he asks.

"It's under duress, I assure you," Peter says. He absolutely wouldn't be here if his alpha hadn't ordered it.

"Well, shit, yeah, let's get you some purple revenge flowers," Stiles says.

After You by FlyAwayMeow (rjaejoo)

It’s true that sometimes what you want the most, you can’t have and that you’ll miss what you once had all along when it’s finally gone.

After breaking his engagement to Chris, Peter heads to New York to start over. He meets Stiles, a young author at his publishing house who helps him piece his confidence back together. When tragedy strikes, he discovers how to finally let go of his past and have the family and future he's always wanted with the pieces already in his life.

love me lights out by veterization

Stiles and Peter get snowed in together. (Or: what happens when you accept phone calls from people you haven't spoken to in over five years.)

Uncle Peter Doesn't Date by Mellow (SweetCandy) (WIP)

“Oh don’t lie, you love it.” Peter purred and winked at his newest arm candy, who spluttered for a few seconds, before blushing like a 16 year old virgin. Considering how young he looked Laura wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually 16. “Shut up Peter!” Bambi squeaked, still flushing and averting Laura’s eyes. “Well, anyways, I’m,” ‘Bambi’. “Stiles. Stiles Stilinski, pleasure to meet you- again.” Stiles smiled sheepishly, obviously nervous. Stiles Stilinski. Definitely a stripper then.

-

Or: Laura was prepared for whatever piece of armcandy her uncle had decided to show up with, what she hadn't been prepared for was Stiles Stilinski...her uncle's boyfriend.

Under the Songbird’s Wing by mia6363

Captivity easily destroys the will of escape. It can break the fiercest of animal. It can strip the most regal man and woman down to nothing but animal needs.

Captivity can, if met with unwavering determination, shape a person into something unimaginable.

Stiles is sixteen when he's captured. Stiles's first thought is, "I won't die here."

Baby Whisperer by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

“What. Is that.”

Scott looked up at him, apprehensive.

“Her name’s Lily.”

Stiles stared at the fuzzy head peeking out of the papoose.

“Her. Her name. That is a real live human baby. Oh my God-”

“Actually I don’t know if she’s human?” Scott said with a confused frown. “Becca didn’t say.”

“Who the fuck is Becca?!”

Sacrificial Lamb by Bunnywest

The Alpha has a scruffy beard, unkempt hair and dazzling blue eyes. The scar on his face is raised, running down his cheek like a twisting, gnarled rope. Stiles knows that it came from the blade of Kate Argent herself, and that the Alpha got it fighting in the battle where Kate killed his lover, cutting his head clean from his neck, if the stories are to be believed.

The Alpha lets Stiles look his fill, before indicating that Stiles should take the other couch, and Stiles does so, his father’s words echoing in his ears. He can do this, can be pleasant and amenable. The lives of his people may depend on it. The Alpha spends long moments surveying him, before saying, “I like you, Stiles.”

You don’t know me, Stiles wants to blurt out, but he bites his tongue.

The Various Triumphs of Mischief Bilinski by Whispering_Sumire (WIP)

"Hello, Chris," sings a honeyed voice from behind.

Chris' attention snaps toward the intruder, his gun already out of its' holster and aimed at whoever it is — a boy, apparently, with braided russet hair, a red jacket, and wise eyes. He's wearing a gas mask, but Chris can tell by the way his eyes crinkle around the edges, the way sun-burnt sand swirls in his irises, that he's smiling.

Chris cocks his gun.

"You killed my father," he says.

"No offence, but he totally deserved it," the stranger agrees with cheerful solemnity.

"What the hell are you doing in my home?" Chris demands. The kid is perched on a windowsill in Chris' office, as nonchalantly as if this were something he did every day, as if they were familiar.

"I was just wondering," the kid speaks softly, fond amusement sewn through with a peculiar resignation, "how you'd feel about putting down some nazis?"

[Or: The one where Stiles goes back in time and subsequently fucks with everything.]

A Curious Magic by Triangulum

Overall, Stiles is very well-known in the supernatural community. It’d be hard not to be, not with how his reputation has grown like wildfire. He knows and is on good terms with nearly all the fae that reside in the preserve, the asrai that live deep in the lake, the Ito pack, the vampire couple that lives over in Beacon Valley (they buy an ethically-sourced food supply from Stiles), as well as almost every other supernatural entity in the area. But Talia Hale doesn’t like him, and a werewolf pack tends to do what their alpha tells them to.

So it’s a definite surprise when the wards at the edge of his property trip, the tingling down his spine telling him it’s a werewolf, the lack of burning sensation letting him know there’s no hostile intent. Stiles, in his office in the second floor turret, sets down the amulet he’s packing up for Marin and moves to the large window overlooking the front of his property. He’s expecting to see an Ito packmember, even though they nearly always call in advance, and is surprised to see a man that he recognizes as Talia’s brother, Peter.

Light in the Dark by cywscross

It still surprises Stiles sometimes, how easily he’s adapted. Seven months in a world filled with train tracks and soul-sucking fae, and it feels like he’s never known anything else.

~~

Or, the one where diverting the Ghost Riders from Beacon Hills to prey on a different town only succeeded in setting them free.

Vengeance Looks Good On You, Sweetheart by cywscross

Just because Scott refuses to see the Argents for what they truly are - prejudiced serial killers sitting proudly on a mountain of innocent corpses - doesn't mean Stiles will. It's about time someone did something about the Argent Empire anyway, and what a coincidence - summer vacation is just around the corner.

--

Or, the one where Gerard Argent kidnapped the wrong fucking person to torture. Stiles has never subscribed to the policy of forgiving and forgetting anyway, not when razing the problem to the ground and salting the earth for good measure has always been a far better solution in the long run.

He doesn't expect to have company.

[robininthelabyrinth]

JGY (either time-traveling to fix things or normal but with an agenda of his own) figures out WWX’s golden core loss after the Sunshot campaign and “accidentally” lets JC, LXC, NMJ, and LWJ know. He claims he thought everyone knew and were just being politely quiet about the matter, how was he supposed to know it wasn’t obvious?

“I can’t tell,” Nie Mingjue said, and Jin Guangyao looked at him blankly – he hadn’t expected anyone to come after him, not after that little ‘casual’ revelation he’d just used to explode the previously perfectly nice if extremely tense gathering that they were having. “No, really. Was that your version of being nice?”

On second thought, maybe he should have expected it. He’d forgotten, he supposed, that Nie Mingjue didn’t actually care one way or another about Wei Wuxian and his demonic cultivation - he’d spoken favorably of Luo Qingyang when she’d stood up for him against the bullying of her sect, he’d refused to join in with Jin Guangshan’s demands for the Tiger Seal, and he’d only agreed to participate in the siege of the Burial Mounds because of the deaths of some Nie cultivators in Wei Wuxian’s rampage. Even then he’d led one of the smallest contingents, falling well behind the Jin and Jiang sects, and even behind the Lan.

He’d probably only brought the families of the deceased, come to think of it. He would have been shepherding them through their grief, letting anger wash them clean the way the Nie sect preferred. 

Of course, neither the siege nor the deaths had yet occurred, and even Luo Qingyang had yet to rebel in favor of the absent Wei Wuxian. It was still very early days after the end of the Sunshot Campaign, and he hadn’t yet stolen the Wen remnants away from the prisoner of war camps; Wei Wuxian was still an acknowledged young master, if a somewhat disreputable one given his demonic cultivation.

And since that was the case - why would Nie Mingjue care one bit about Wei Wuxian’s missing golden core? Or even that it could be found in Jiang Cheng’s belly instead?

The others had reacted about as he’d expected: Jiang Cheng was utterly devastated, of course, and Lan Wangji hardly better, and Lan Xichen – ever concerned for Lan Wangji – had immediately taken to fussing over everyone, even as Wei Wuxian’s attempts to deny it turned into attempts to comfort Jiang Cheng, which naturally only made everything worse.

As panicked “don’t pay attention to me” moves went, it was stunningly effective.

Except for Nie Mingjue, of course. That fucker always did ruin all of his plans.

“Maybe not, then,” Nie Mingjue said, and came to stand by him. Jin Guangyao was leaning on the railing of the balcony in Jinlin Tower, trying and failing to get his bearings: wasn’t it just yesterday that he was the master here?

Yesterday, or over a decade from now – it was all the same. Nothing in Jinlin Tower had changed.

Maybe he should have changed it more, when he had the chance.

“In that case, what were you trying to get out of it?” Nie Mingjue asked. His voice was short, volatile, suspicious, but not yet so temperamental as he was at the end – had Jin Guangyao started poisoning him yet?

He couldn’t quite remember. No memory was perfect, not in the long term – he’d go mad if he had to remember each bit of paperwork he’d ever done forever – and he’d long ago thrown those distressing things to the far reaches of his mind. What’s done was done, and that was that; there was no use in regretting. 

Of course, right now, somehow, what was done had not yet been done, and he didn’t know what to do with that.

“Meng Yao,” Nie Mingjue said. “Are you - all right?”

Jin Guangyao looked at him.

Nie Mingjue was frowning at him, uncharacteristically hesitating over something, and then seemed to decide fuck it and reached up to press a hand to Jin Guangyao’s forehead.

…what?

“No fever,” Nie Mingjue said, and reached for his hand, taking his pulse. “Let me see –”

“I’m not sick,” Jin Guangyao objected, belatedly understanding. “Why would you think I’m sick?”

“Because you’re not talking,” Nie Mingjue said, and – Jin Guangyao took offense to that suggestion. “Normally you’re the first to come up with excuses, explanations, and rationalizations.”

Well, Jin Guangyao couldn’t deny that.

“Why should I excuse my actions?” he asked, drawing his shattered dignity around him like a cloak. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

Nie Mingjue nodded. “You really haven’t. But you have reunified the Jiang sect with the Yiling Patriarch, and your father won’t be happy about that.”

His father?

Right. His father was still around at this time, and Jin Guangyao had still been bowing and scraping and running all his errands, doing all the dirty deeds in the world, thinking that he might – what? One day respect him? Regret what he’d done to his mother, perhaps?

What had he been thinking back then? It had all seemed so dreadfully important at the time, and yet now, after everything, he really couldn’t remember why.

“You’re definitely sick,” Nie Mingjue decided. “Come with me; there’s medicine in my rooms.”

“You just want to get away from all the shouting and tears and all,” Jin Guangyao muttered accusingly.

“Naturally. I have a reputation to think of, after all, and I’m a sympathetic crier.”

Jin Guangyao choked.

“The shouting is fine,” Nie Mingjue added. “I can handle shouting.”

“No, you can’t,” Jin Guangyao said. “You’re a sympathetic shouter, too.”

“I said I could handle it, not that I would make it pleasant for other people.”

Jin Guangyao ducked his head to hide (of all unexpected things) a genuine smile that threatened to surface. He’d forgotten Nie Mingjue’s strange sense of humor, too, along with all the other things he’d made himself forget. His sworn brother…he’d once been more than just a raging temper and a pair of blame-filled eyes on a decapitated head, more than a demon he lived in fear of.

“Should we do something for them?” he asked, remembering how earnestly he’d pretended to care about others during this time. “Help er-ge calm them down, maybe?”

“Xichen enjoys this sort of fussing; if he gets tired of it, he can always leave. This is a fight they need to have.” Nie Mingjue shrugged. “I’ll send Huaisang after them later. He’ll annoy them into a better mood.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works for people other than you, da-ge.”

“No one can persist in feeling bad for themselves when they’re busy yelling at Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said with certainty, and thinking back over nearly two decades of knowing Nie Huaisang, with or without Nie Mingjue, Jin Guangyao was forced to conclude that that was probably true. “Come on, come with me. Drink some medicine, get some rest, and you can think about what you want to do next in the morning.”

Do next?

Yes, Jin Guangyao supposed he needed to think of that. But perhaps Nie Mingjue was right: it was something he could think of tomorrow, when he had time to recover from his shock, time to think, to plan. To come up with a new set of goals, ones that his impulsive reaction just now hadn’t forestalled.

Tomorrow.

[semischarmed]

Clarity

My hot roommate Zach is the perfect man. I think I won the cosmic lottery when we got paired freshman year. “Roommates for life!” he shouted, as he wrapped a tone arm around me in a side-hug. I chuckled, of course. Who knew the cutest guy in our dorm was such a dork. I remember that moment vividly, committed every last detail to memory. In what he likely only barely remembers, I recall to the last detail. I play it back often -even moreso, nowadays: The crisp autumn breeze. The filtered sunlight through amber trees, bathing us both in golden afternoon. The warmth of his touch, and the unintended taunt from his arm pulling me towards him and his jacket ever so slightly wrapping over my back. The slight, dense smell of coffee wafting from him and his minty breath cutting through. Thats how I remember him. Warm. Sincere. Safe. Zach would probably say that was the moment we became best friends. I, on the other-hand, would say that was the exact moment when I fell for him.

We did everything together from then on: Ate together, joined the same clubs, signed up to the same classes- that first year we were inseparable. Best friends to a tee. I’m not even sure what he saw in me- the guy was a hell of a lot more sociable than I was. He could literally find anyone else on campus, yet I had the privilege of being his roommate and friend. I commit that wonderful first year to my life. It is my happiest year to date. I commit that version of Zach to myself as well.

Trouble started early in our second year. He spent all summer back home, hanging out with his high school friends and his brothers. When we finally met back in our new room, he seemed distant. Still, I made the effort, getting closer and closer to him every day. He’d been sending signals too, I think. A stray touch, just a half second too long. A lingering stare in my direction. A gentle smile when I ask him a bout his day. I had to know for myself with certainty. 

So, one terrifying October night, I asked him straight up.The fucker laughed. Cruel, hideous, insensitive laughter. I’d never felt more alone in my life than when he laughed at my confession. That broke something in me. I quickly ran to my bed, crying myself to sleep. Without skipping a beat, Zach left the room to grab a bite to eat, seemingly unchanged by my outright confession. I had never been so humiliated in my life, yet only he would ever know. Still I felt him hold that over me in the weeks to follow like a dark cloud. Of course he’d still offer hangouts. He’d ask for help with some dumb assignment or try to get me to open up by faking some issues about himself. He was mocking me. I felt his sneer, ever-present from behind. Thats when I began researching alternative methods to exact what I needed from him.

Why a private university had a book like this is beyond me. It was a spellbook. A dangerous one, at that. All manner of incantation and processes regarding the human soul. I poured myself the next few weeks on its pages religiously. Translation is a massive pain in the ass but it gets done.

“Love cannot be created by spell,” it stated. Leave it to a fucking book to let me down too. I wiped away stray tears until I caught sight of the last batch of spells. I sighed at its contents. Fine. I couldn’t make him love me through magic, but I could have him the next best way. His body. The final section of this book of spells is, of course, the curses and enchantments required to possess another being.

———

The preparations have been made. It’s another late, awkward night in our room, where he just passes by, gives me a nod and a grimace and then heads to bed. This night would be different. I chant the words. The price is steep. Half of my body’s lifespan for the ability to take someone over in their sleep. That’s the one I settled on. Of course, there were more permanent spells outlined, but this seemed to be a happy medium.

The magic is dark in nature, and I feel the cloud over me deepen. I feel myself detach. It’s weightless, but grounded. Makes sense, given the purpose of this spell. I watch my target and lick my astral lips. There he was, happily dreaming without a care in the world. I study every curve, like sculpture. He is muscled, but tone. Zach likes to sleep with his shirt off, so I get to see what powerful chest up close. I watch as powerful lungs, drawn in air before gently dispersing it. Perfection. I watch that beautiful face lie still in a satisfied smile. Angelic. This body is power, incarnate. My power, soon.

I follow closes until I am but inches from his face. I stir around him, slightly. I want him to know it’s me. Bleary eyes open and he gives a weak smile when he sees me. “Dude-” the smile quickly fades to shock. “Wait what the fuck...” in sinful glee I push into my man. He involuntarily absorbs my particles, my spirit. He tries to push me away, to get me off him. Hands are useless to stop me. I phase through them with no resistance. His breath quickens as he begins to panic. This only further brings me into him, as he is forced to breath in the only air around him-me. 

Then, he starts choking, trying to force the parts of me in him out. I am unfazed. Instead, in I keep filling into him until all of me is inside. This is the way we were meant to be. He pulses and convulses and chokes while I align myself into him. I revel in Zach. In being Zach. Despite all the shit he pulled this year, he still is perfection. My perfection, now. 

I command his lips mine. “Invoke me. Become me. Manipulate this body. Explore us. Stay, in me. I want you here, forever.” They’re not words he usually uses. I rile in a frenzy when these phrases leave his lips at my behest. When his voice becomes my own and I make us moan. When his body complies with my every whim. When Zach’s flesh is mine. It is euphoric. Orgasmic even. I intend to follow through, to reward it. To pleasure it. God it feels good being in him. Being him. He may not love me, but love me he will, even if indirectly. Every waking moment I spend inside this man will be a moment of him loving himself, loving me. Now, And then I feel it. I clutch my head in pain. Zach.

Veins strain in his forehead as he puts every last effort to exorcise me out. Resistance almighty in this body. In tears I feel myself stripped from momentary heaven. He chokes as a dense fog that is me escapes his mouth. He is successful.

When I am kicked out of his body abruptly, I flare in anger. How could he do this? How could he? I look back at my slumbering form. No matter. My resolve is steel. Somehow, somewhere deep inside me, I knew somewhere it had to come to this. I chant the final curse mentioned in the spellbook. The price is the steepest of them all.

I watch as my physical form dissipates. I writhe as I am renewed with newfound energy. Potency. Virility. I’ve put in everything. Everything I ever was into becoming him. Zach would be mine, no matter what. 

Before he can readjust, before he can even think about what had just occurred, I flood back inside my man. Inside my body. My one true body, now, given what I had to sacrifice. I make him smile while he takes me in. Smile in preparation of a new, permanent driver. I thrust my astral form inside its new home. It’s warm. Roomy. muscular. We make this body grin, shout, cry, writhing all the way in its sheets in our battle for control. I’m not even sure he knows what he’s doing when he fights me- but he always was a natural in everything he picked up. I feel our shared muscle contract and relax as it is forced to accept its two masters- soon to be one. Soon to be me. Zach’s soul was strong but no one was a match for the full force of an entire human body-turned-spirit. I feel his soul start to lose footing. Jackpot. Immediately fill take its place. My place.

I was far deeper in Zach now than I was before. His essence struggles, trying to escape me but I keep us steady, hold us tight. Our minds begin to connect this time around and we sync. The book said this was a necessary step. I blink away our tears into a satisfied smile. Our face is flush from the fight, flush from my greatest victory. “You’re mine forever,” I think to myself, My words. The verbalization of my invasive thoughts in his head- they’re spoken in his tongue. In his jock-like inflection. I even now think in his voice. Of course, it’s relatively minor in the grand scheme of things. Yet it is undeniable proof. The finality of it all. Proof that my body no longer existed in this world. Proof that for me, forever, Zach would be my default. Just one last step to it all. One last push- I’ve already given this much, there was no going back. I would displace Zach as the true owner of this body. It’s as the final line in the book states: “Encapsulate their soul, devour it, digest it, make it yours. Then, true control at long last.”

Tears stream down our shared cheeks as we both realize the true gravity, the true consequences of my actions. We are synced now, but I haven’t yet completed the process. So, our emotions are a mix. So, it’s bittersweet. He’s mine. We’re one. I’m finally with Zach in a way most intimate. Despite it all, he isn’t fighting back. Why?

I rage inside him, wanting him to be mad, wanting him to hate me, to give me justification my ultimate transgression. He offers none. Instead, I am hit with borrowed clarity. More of his memory floods into me and I begin to cry. 

I watch my every worst moment through his lens, relive the demons of my past and yet, from his perspective they never looked quite as dark or traumatic as I had made them out to be. Even my confession itself, my initial catalyst, had merely been a blip in Zach’s mind. If anything, he had been more concerned that his own nervous laughing was the cause of my spiraling. I quickly realize how much wasted time I spent, building up Zach into this god in my head. My god. In the end, he was human after all.

I feel Zach pull instances of himself from my memories in turn. It turns out he had many, many insecurities as well. Many moments where he needed validation or support. Many moments, even in recent memory, where I had never picked up on on his fear and self doubt. An offhand comment here. Some self-deprecation there. Of course, stupid me always there to respond by telling him to quit joking around. I felt the months of torment he felt in my coldness after my confession. He wasn’t making fun of me or being an ass, he wasn’t even patronizing (well, he wasn‘t trying to at least)- he thought he was losing a friend. The guy was just a bit oblivious. God I was so dumb. Of course, he blames himself for my eventual actions. Poor guy. Zach didn’t deserve any of this- he never did. “Thank you” he cries in new clarity.

In mental tears I begin to undo my connection to him. It’s not something he had the capacity to do himself- I made that a reality when I used my physical form as tribute. I know the price which must be paid, for my greatest sin, born from misunderstanding. There wouldn’t be much left for me- the price for the spell was my physical body after all. It didn’t matter. I made that choice for myself when I recited the spell. But Zach... he had no choice at all. He still had a chance at a life. A life well-lived with knowledge and confidence gained from my memory. It was the least I could give him.

I begin to drift away as I balance the cosmic scales. I detach the last of myself from Zach, ready to give him back his body, ready to return him to his life. It’s merely a reverse of the process from before, yet it all feels lighter somehow. I take it as a sign of karmic justice. Of course, I am scared. Who knows what awaits me? Maybe I can find another body to inhabit. Maybe one in a coma. Maybe i’ll be reincarnated. Maybe nothing. Maybe I’ll just vanish on the spot...

Zach doesn’t give me the chance to find out. I feel his astral hand holding on to mine. His face is sympathetic. Kind. Warm. Like it used to be. Like it always was. His body leans up to pull me into a warm embrace. I start crying in spirit. “You, you don’t have to do this-” 

“I know” he says. He pulls me tighter. “Roommates for life, remember?” Now he’s crying. “There’s no way to go back- we both know that, but you still got a life to live-we both do.” He smiles as he guides me to himself. I reattach to him. We weave our souls as one. “C’mon man, I told you I grew up sharing a room.” I am a complete mess of emotions at this point. Unworthiness, Love, Relief. I feel his mess too. Neither of us knew where to go from here, but we both knew we’d face it together.

The experience was sobering, to say the least. We cried together that night. We cried at newfound realization. We cried at irreversibility of what I had done. Hell, we even cried at the extra rent that had to now be paid. I had no way of undoing what I did, and Zach wouldn’t let me go. In the end, we decide to just give it a go, a resolve to live as one person. “Zach 2.0,” as he jokingly put it. Dork.

———

“A happy accident,” is what Zach called the events of that night. He always was the optimist. Although, these days, I’m a bit of an optimist now too. I am Zach now too, after all. All things considered, we’ve done quite well together. Zach 2.0 was everything. We were smart, intuitive, confident, compassionate. We’ve made this body the healthiest it’s ever been. Hell, together we even graduated with honors, something neither of us could ever hope to do alone. Both our parents were real proud of that one- he told mine at my funeral that we had been together and we’ve been in close contact ever since. By no means were we the perfect man though. There was no perfect man. We’ve had our share of fights, struggles, times where one of us would take full control of this body we share, shut the other out.

Once in a blue moon, we both dream of what our lives could have ended up as, had I not done what I did or had he let me disappear that night. In retrospect, I really do think my life had a lot of things going for it. Hindsight is always 20/20, as he likes to say. I saw many an opening, so many areas for improvement that my younger self was blinded by in lust and perceived betrayal. There was so much life I could have lived, had I just not opened that stupid book. I don’t dwell on it too much though. We’re both quite happy sharing this body. I’m living in one body with my crush, whats not to like?

The first few months were quite jarring. Our friends and family would see us happy and outgoing at one moment and then flip to quiet and reserved on a flip of the switch. Gratefully, they been patient with us, assuming it was the byproduct of a grieving boyfriend. The more years I grow with him, the more alike we have become. Sharing one body and living one life tends to do that. I’ve probably rubbed off on him a little too. He’s just a bit more analytical now, a bit more perceptive, and I’ve learned to let loose every once in a while. Altogether, we make a great team. We’ve even managed a slew of relationships along the way. Hell, he’s even gone out with some guys-no doubt a byproduct of my soul being a part of him. Of course, in the ultimate cruel twist of fate, they never last- he tells me “none ever match me”. Well of course they can’t. I’ve lived every moment with him, felt his every thought, lifted him when he was up, consoled him when he was down. Ironically, in a roundabout way, the spell did end up causing love, causing for him to fall for me- at the cost of us never being able to be a couple in the physical sense. Guess you really can’t have it all.

In the few years we spent together my love for him has only deepened. I know he feels the same way. We are one person, after all. All things considered, it’s not a bad setup. If love on the physical plane happens, it happens, and if it doesn’t- then we still always have each other. Regardless, I’m sure we’ll find someone out there for the both of us, someday-there’s that optimism again. Of course, we don’t pine for it. Our main focus has always been each other. Growing together. We’ve got a whole life yet to live. And he’ll have me with him every step of the way. And we can’t wait to face it all, together.

-End-

Eh, it’s a bit underdeveloped but I’m not a novelist and I didn’t want to spread this out over parts. Going for something a little different with number 14- hope y’all like it!

[asterekmess]

Heyo! So I’ve been in the sterek fandom for quite some time now and I’ve been wondering about how you would describe stiles’ personality?

I’ve never actually sat down and watched a full episode of teen wolf (and honestly I’m not sure if I ever will considering everything I’ve heard about how they treat derek and his history but idk who knows I’m very curious in a lot of the plot lines and character development), and a lot of the stuff I know about the show I’ve scraped from fics, gifs, and meta posts

For me personally, Stiles’ personality and characterization is so fluid and nuanced that sometimes I have trouble pinning him down (tho derek doesn’t have trouble with that *wink wink*) So I would love to hear your thoughts! Sorry for the long ask, this grew legs and an ugly mug shdhdhhdjdcj anyhow have a great day :D

Well, everybody's got different perspectives and opinions on Stiles' personality, honestly. Even when you try to stick to 'canon' things, there's a lot of room for interpretation on the why when he does things, or what it says about him as a person, etc etc etc.

Personally, I see canon Stiles as kind of an asshole. I mean, I love him, and he does some incredible things, and he's clearly got an intense love for those close to him. But I do make him kinder in fics, or I at least make him regret being a dick.

In canon, we're given a Stiles who cracks 'dead baby' jokes (he's talking about human sacrifice, so the conversation was already plenty morbid. This wasn't out of the blue.) Who begs for Scott to let Jackson die (though it's made clear that this wasn't serious, and he later works to save Jackson's hide like ten times over), and who will mercilessly poke and prod at people's insecurities or painful pasts, especially when worked up. Isaac's previous abuse isn't a no-go topic. Derek having 'dated' (read: been assaulted at worst and at best, been lied to) serial killers isn't something he's going to tread lightly around. He doesn't try to soften things to save someone's feelings most of the time.

He's presented as someone who is incredibly impulsive, with his emotions, words, and actions. It's kind of implied this is because of his ADHD, but that doesn't explain how often the impulsively cruel or harsh things he says aren't retracted or apologized for, or just generally regretted. Yes, ADHD people are impulsive, and yes sometimes our mouths get away from us and we can end up saying some Fucked Up shit to people because we literally couldn't control the words coming out. But that doesn't mean we're cruel or evil or mean. We still feel bad for doing those things, and those of us who are decent people, try to fix or repair what we've messed up. I am...not a fan of how often ADHD is used as an excuse to make a character a dickhead because "he has no filter." No filter means we struggle to control our thoughts and what we say, it doesn't make us heartless.

So, when I'm writing him, I fix it. Even if he still Does something fucked up, I have him care that he did it. I have him realize what he did or said wasn't okay and respond to that knowledge in some way. Which to some people, means I'm just ignoring what a fucker he is, but imo it feels like a horrible fuckup on the creator's parts, so I'm just correcting the mistake. He's no less Stiles just bc I taught him to say sorry.

Anyway. I'm trying NOT to ramble here.

To answer your question, as best I can; Stiles is sarcastic. Stiles is passionate to a fault. His emotions are BIG, whatever they are. Good, Bad, or even apathy. Whatever feelings he has are just intense. He is very much a no gods, no kings, no masters, kind of man. There isn't really an 'authority' to him, except maybe his dad sometimes. He puts family, and those he considers family, First. But that doesn't mean he isn't selfless. Because he is. Incredibly so. Uncomfortably so.

He walks into gasoline for his friends. He puts himself in the position of losing the only parent he has left, for his classmates. He cares enough about strangers to insist a drunk girl he's spoken to for five minutes max stay hydrated and give her a bottle of water. He literally handed over his mind on a platter to a fox demon for someone he barely fucking knew, to keep her safe.

Loyal. Humorous. A fighter. Family-oriented. Clever. Passionate. Strong, physically, mentally, and emotionally. And a very good liar, in my opinion.

He doesn't lie very well in the show, not to people's faces. He'll stumble around a "I haven't seen him since the last time I saw him" or "are you asking me to tell you what I would have told you if I were going to tell you it?" but at the same time, he can repress and hide away his feelings and his pain in a way not even Derek manages.

He asked Caitlin questions about her girlfriend, and worked to solve the human sacrifices, literal minutes after finding out he'd just lost his oldest friend. He drove Lydia to the warehouse to save Jackson after having the shit beat out of him by a man who'd been learning to cause pain since he was a CHILD. And he never gives away how incredibly broken he is for more than a couple seconds. and it's a little frightening, because he convinces people in this show who are lie detectors that he's okay, when he's a fucking mess. Even Derek shows his pain.

You're right that he's nuanced, and part of that is because when you see him in meta or in fic, what you're seeing is a dozen versions of him sort of compressed into a flat image. Because he changes throughout the show, and while some of his core personality stays the same, a lot of stuff changes. So one fic might harp on his insensitivity, and callousness toward Isaac or how easily he says "just let them die" when talking about Derek or someone else. And then another will dive into how fucking far he's willing to go, travelling all the way to mexico and facing down a hunter clan a dozen times more powerful than the argents with no one but a banshee at his side, just to get Derek back. Or how he saw Malia hurting and sat with her on a couch and held her hand. One is a much earlier version of Stiles, from the start of the show, the other from his midpoint. Near the end, you're able to say that he was so torn about leaving Derek while he was dying, he had to be Begged to go save Scott. That he manipulated an ENTIRE FBI investigation in order to save and protect Derek. (im focusing on derek bc sterek, but also bc his relationship with Derek is the Biggest Arc he has in the show, and the most solid)

You're going to read about different versions of him, and I totally get how that's confusing.

We all sort of bleed ourselves into him and either bring certain canon characteristics to the forefront, or straight up add our own so he's more relatable to us.

So while I can't really help you pin down any specific Stiles, just know that there's not really a 'true' Stiles that anyone can confirm or deny. It's all just perception, so however you see him, go with it. Strengthen it. Explore it. I'm sure you'll find people who see what you do.

[sexy-opium-ravioli]

hiya!!! mind writing a fern x gender neutral! reader scenario? maybe the reader is a wizard n they need to get some stuff from a dungeon, so fern comes with n they both have some fun moments together!! maybe its vault of bones styled? thank u!!! [also btw, the anon button is off!!]

Oh my goodness, I am so sorry! Anon feature is now switched on babes, so feel free to send in requests to my decrepit, dank and dusty inbox.

Anyways, here you go!! I hope you enjoy you freakin honey bun.

This work has vulgar language, moderate, nondescript violence and descriptions of menstruation and endometriosis. Dw, reader is still gender neutral.

Note: This and other works (unless directly specified) are to be as inclusive as possible. If there is any sort of undue coding for any race, gender or sexuality that has not been requested, please tell me! :)

Title: Dungeons and Fern

Considering how many things there were in Ooo, one would think that there could be a cure-all potion for cripplingly low self-esteem. Or, at least some sort of medication for said problem.

Alas, Glob was more detail oriented than goal oriented. You could see sentient mountains whining at violence and grow rock-scale skin from drinking gruel, but intrinsic personal problems? Those were still a mystery.

You wish you could give Fern a potion to make him happy. A tincture for all the wounds eyes cannot see. You feel like your boyfriend has done so much for you, and seeing your favorite grass man spiral does a number on your own self-esteem, to be honest.

Anyways, that's codependency for another day. Right now, a dungeon needed exploring.

A cave. A little darkness, and then, light. Being a wizard was handy sometimes. Fire in your palm, you lit the way.

Walls were lined with red words, little orange cones and yellow stripes on the ground that were just at the threshold of ditches with long, metal tubes. You knew what trains were, but the trains down here looked more like metal coffins. They were eerie. So were all the skeletons at your feet.

You looked back at Fern. You smiled, and he blushed. His eyebrows were furrowed.

Ah! A map, how handy. It wasn't too hard to figure out, too!

'You Are Here,' Follow the red dot, and then the blue line, and you could get where you're going. You jumped into the pit, and vanished into the dark tunnels. Fern trailed behind you.

"You're quiet today. Anything wrong?" It was a hushed question you spoke. There was A Vibe in these old tunnels you did not want to mess with too badly. After awhile, you learned to appreciate them, all the colorful graffiti scrawled on them too.

"I'm evil," His words crept to your ears like perfume. It was there, and then gone.

"We've been over this. You're not,"

"There's literally a demon inside of me," A little louder this time. Perfume turned to smoke.

You stopped in your tracks and turned around fast enough to see Fern's pupils still having to adjust to the lighting change. There was a moment of tenseness you both felt, slightly predatory and preylike on both ends.

"That demon does not constitute who your whole self is. A part of you is formed by the new experiences you go through, and some of that in your personality is completely isolated from what you've been born as," Your wizard mind liked to go on tangents and force your mouth to voice them. Sometimes they helped Fern in his journey, and sometimes they did not.

He still looked conflicted, damn.

"I'm evil," Smoke turned into a thick fog.

"Prove it, kill me." A gamble, sure. But you knew your bet had won when Fern's face went from anger to shock.

"I-I'd never!-" His voice got a lot higher when you said quick stuff like that. When you disarmed his defenses in less than a second. To be fair, you do the same thing when roles are reversed.

"Then you aren't evil, dingus. C'mon," You grabbed his hand, interlaced his fingers with yours, and gave him a kiss. You always liked how his grassy lips tickled yours. He's such a sweet man, how you've fallen in love with him. "Let's go explore the rest of this stupid station,"

...

'Oh my GLOB what the FUCK is that-' This is your first thought. There is no time for a second.

The thing, made of shiny steaming hot tar swung at you. You had enough wits to dodge, but you still screamed in terror while doing it.

Fern was immediately at your side. A grass sword, mighty and green as he, grew out of his arm and before one could blink, a chunk of tar monster was separated from the host.

'Tar, tar, dude what spell is even good against tar?' This was the forefront of your thoughts against the backdrop of Fern holding the thing at bay.

"Hey, babe, mind retreating for like three seconds? Gonna teleport this thing to the Fire Kingdom," Such important words spoken in such a casual tone. There was a moment where Fern wondered how much life you had been though to earn such eccentricity in such a stressful situation. He loved you.

When Fern stepped away, you did as you said. The last thing you heard before closing the portal was a fire guard screaming "What the GLOB-"

"...I, I didn't go too far this time, did I?" His voice, back to perfume.

"No! No, not at all!" You gave him a forehead kiss that he would appreciate more than you would ever know.

You both giggled to yourselves before continuing.

...

"Ah! Finally!" The joy in your voice was palpable enough to grab out of the air and eat. Fern turned towards you and-

"...Train tickets?" There was a hint of annoyance in there. You simply knew it.

"Yeah, I know, right?" You chuckled nervously before continuing, "I need it for a potion for Marceline. Endometriosis is really a fucker sometimes and this can help with that,"

You both walked in silence as you felt sunlight on your faces. Smelling fresh air after breathing in so much stale made you feel a special type of joy. "That really wasn't too much for you? I know you need to photosynthesize every once in awhile and I just don't want-" He kissed you. It was your turn for your face to get warm.

This silence was peaceful, as you two walked to your home in the forest. It overlooked grassy plains and was just at the edge of a thick line of trees.

"My love?"

"Yeah?" You adored his nicknames for you.

"What's endometriosis?"