#one thing's for certain: this sort of killed my mood for drawing

[mitamicah]

A serious question for my brain: Why!??

[ect0-vius]

RANT TIME RANT TIME

I'm sorry in advance if this is considered as blasphemy to dearest Ixol fans. Please tell me if it is.

Well, I’ve been silent and self-composed (sort of) for long enough. Time to see the glimmer of madness that hides within my psyche. (These are just my excessive rants about ripping out the character from the Points and utterly rewriting the entire story and lore of AF. Especially the sequel. Please take this with a grain of salt).

Following some of his canon dialogue, Ixol is shown as having little-to-no control over his emotions, with mood swings where he’ll be from a silly fella cracking up a joke to acting aggressive and violent in the single flip of a switch. As such, he is unreadable and unpredictable, most notably uncontrollable when he flips to his true form and starts behaving like a rabid dog.  Such traits aren’t what most friends are looking for. Unless those friends are basically living in your head.

(This is me trying to keep some self-control and try to remember what the topic is, which is about the voices in Ixol’s head which might possibly be a factor to his behaviour)

I suppose, the voices in Ixol’s head are an influence on his behavior. I mean – a swarm of individual voices with individual thoughts filling up one’s head? Can one even hear themselves think? And I want to know just how long had they been manifesting in his head? Ixol may not be able to form thoughts independently. Besides, why should he? When there are omnipotent creatures of higher order lingering in his mind, looking out for him and stating their seperate opinions on certain things. Cyalm’s discretness. The interior of Cavern Club. Mino’s capability to process data and give out accurate information. Star Savior’s perfectly shaped lips. Why even form thought when there are people that would think for him? What about decision making, actions, opinions, the luxury of having his friends do it in his stead? All those would be decided, argued, conversed, by the voices in his head. He’ll generate or speak up his thoughts or retorts in conversation every now and then but otherwise he’s a walking, sentient, living puppet, every action relying on the puppeteer; a marrionette with strings. These are all when he’s alone. What if he’s talking to a physical somebody, not abstract beings? Maybe he relies entirely on the voices and his emotions in conversations like this. If it’s Anshine trying to have a talk about behavior, ruin his day. The voices agree that Anshine is far too insistent on showing Ixol how to behave. It’s not like Anshine is the little perfect angel everyone thinks he is. Having a conversation with Ulipse, and all the sudden she got snappy for no reason? The voices suggest teaching her a lesson. A little bit of fire would do the trick. A wrong opinion from a naïve Point? Claw them to shreds. Years, years and YEARS of building friendship and trust between him and the voices in his head. And then, it was all gone within an hour.

Would the Points even BELIEVE the chaotic, unpredictable, uncontrollable and undoubtedly unhinged Point had such friends? Practically anyone would point out (no pun intended) at Ixol, think the voices in Ixol’s head were just his own inner voices and thoughts and exclaim ‘YOU’RE CRAZY’! There would be some Points attempting to comfort him, yes. But would anyone understand him? He had just lost his guiding light. His only friends, the voices that had swarmed his mind for ages. He’d HEARD THEIR SCREAMS as Cyalm was killing them all. Bloodbath without blood. Is Ixol able to comprehend such a thing? The drawing above is when Ixol’s head literally cut in half. Almost, as a result to Cyalm slaughtering his friends. (And yes, it’s also an excuse to take some Lackadaisy quote-unquote ‘inspiration’). He’d mourn their deaths on the first day, feeling very reckless and uneasy at the emptiness in his head. Next day? He’d wake up groggily, the urge of arson shaking his fingertips, waiting for the voices in his head to greet him with good mornings, to decide what should he burn today, which Points to annoy. Instead, the only thing that greeted him was the silence. What if the voices are just sulking because he did something wrong yesterday? They’ll be back soon. Right?

Disassociative amnesia is a disassociative disorder caused by trauma or stress. In which, due to what I have stated, is the former. I’ll be damned if seeing (or hearing, rather) your closest and ONLY friends get SLAUGHTERED is NOT TRAUMATISING AT ALL!!! Maybe I just don’t want to let my precious endless suffering creatures see even a sliver of sunlight, but maybe Ixol would get into denial or lose the memory of it entirely. The only thing steering his world suddenly disappear. How would he adapt to it? To the void that had replaced his mind, no longer hearing the everlasting chorus of voices that he had grown used to for a long, long time? Maybe his mental instability would be more pronounced. He’ll have to be independent starting from there. No one to validate his thoughts, his actions. No one to tell him what he should do. UNLESS… HE CAN CONSULT THE POINTS! THEY keep telling him how to behave, what he’s SUPPOSED to be doing instead of setting coats on fire or pouring cyanide in Cyalm’s tea! They’ll REPLACE his friends while Ixol waits for the voices to return! But how shall he approach the Points? Make them his new-found friends? He’s aware of his reputation, yet there’s no guiding light. How will he take under the Points’ wings if there are no confident and comforting voices poking around in his head?

OKAY, I’ll stop there before I get voted out of this island!

*YEETS OUT OF THE WINDOW*

[redrosydiaz]

4, 10, and 18 for the ask game!

hi hi!! ty for the ask friend!! 💕

4. do you save your 'cut scenes' from your fics? (want to share one?)

omg i was HOPING someone would ask me this one 🙏 YES i do!! i actually have a whole doc dedicated to the scenes from my 911 fics that have ended up getting the axe (lovingly titled "kill your 911 darlings" LMAO)

i would LOVE to share a cut scene!! i'm ngl i've been looking for an excuse to share this scene from my valentine's fic i blinked and suddenly i had a valentine. it's actually the very first scene i wrote for it, but the fic ultimately ended up being an eddie pov fic, so since this scene is buck pov, it didn't fit into that and i had to cut this. i did try to salvage as much of it as i could just altered to be eddie pov, but the buck pov hit different imo!!

“So— so, um, Jee,” Buck says, keeping his tone light. He rolls a pink crayon between his fingers, taps the end of it against the tabletop. Jee doesn’t look up from her coloring. “You remember when Mara lived with you, right?” He decides to lead with. Jee perks up at Mara’s name. “Mara!” She repeats. “She liked to color with me, too.” Buck smiles. “I’m sure she did,” he says. “I guess— I guess Mara was kind of like a cousin, wasn’t she? Like. Like family, but not immediate family,” he ponders aloud. He’s fairly certain Jee doesn't know the difference between immediate and extended family, let alone chosen family, but that’s okay. “And her moms— Auntie Hen and Auntie Karen?” Jee finally looks up from her drawing, if only to scrunch her nose at Buck. Her little eyebrows furrow, her bottom lip pouting out in an adorably confused expression that reminds Buck, delightedly, of Chimney. God, she really is her father’s daughter. “They’re not my aunties,” Jee tells him. “N-no?” Buck asks, hoping Jee will elaborate. She shakes her head, pigtails bouncing. “No, silly. Mommy said aunties and uncles are sisters and brothers. But mommy and daddy don’t have sisters.” She blinks at Buck like it’s obvious. “I don’t have any aunties.” “Oh,” Buck says. He bites the inside of his cheek. “So— so, Jee-Yun, do you think Eddie is— mommy or daddy’s brother?” He feels a little silly asking it. But by her own logic— “No!” She cries around a peal of giggles. “Uncle Buck!” Buck can’t help but laugh along with her, the silly mood infectious.  “You and Uncle Eddie are like mommy and daddy,” she says then, matter-of-fact. And Buck— well. He loses his breath for a second. Jee scribbles the red crayon across her paper, completely oblivious to the way she’s just tilted Buck’s world on its axis. “I— we— what. Um. What do you mean, Jee?” Buck croaks. Jee glances up again, cheeks dimpling so sweetly as she flashes her tiny little teeth in this disarmingly cute smile before she puckers her lips and makes a smacking sort of sound with them— like a cartoonish kiss. Buck feels his cheeks go, suddenly, hot. “Um. Jee.”

10. how much do you write before you post?

ALL of it lol. to be fair, i am predominantly a oneshot writer, so, y'know, that's kind of the whole point of those. posting it all in one go.

i don't have very many chaptered fics (though i WOULD love to write more!!), but with those i have made myself a rule that i HAVE to have it finished before i start posting it. this is mostly because i know myself and when i work on chaptered ideas if i don't like bang them out as fast as possible, then there is a VERY high chance that i will lose motivation or interest or just get so stuck that i set it aside and then. never come back to it lmao. and i don't wanna leave anyone — myself included — hanging.

(i have one (1) single unfinished chaptered fic on ao3 that i DID post before i was done writing the whole thing and i DID end up losing motivation/interest/etc. before i could get the last two chapters down and now it just. sits there. unfinished. incomplete. haunting me every single day of my life. sdlkjfds i dont want to do that again LMAO)

18. how do you decide what POV to write in?

vibes. like honest to goodness, 98% of the time is is based on pure vibes. like i have an idea, i open the doc, and whichever character's spirit decides to possess me in that moment, bam. that is the pov i'm writing in lmaoo. there are a select few instances where like the idea is specifically tailored to a certain character (especially if it's like a canon compliant/scene expansion kind of fic), but yeah, i have found for most pairings i've written for i've enjoyed writing for both povs, so i've always been happy to write whichever one fits the vibes best!

fanfic author asks

[thelikesoffinn]

Hello Finn 🪻 I have a question about Astarion and I really enjoying your Analyse so I hope you can help me! And sorry if my Englisch is weird but it is not my mother tongue so it a bit hard but anyway my question is: Is astarion regret killing Cazador? Because I watch a let's play and there the Player just finished the Cazador Story and Astarion seemed very sad and back in camp he said that it is stupid to think about him despite the death and now I'm confused. So is he regretting? Thank you 😊

Hello there, sweetheart!

So first of: Please don't worry. English isn't my native either, so I totally get it!

And then to your question:

I don't think regret is the issue here, no.

His mood after Cazador's death is far from the happy "I'M FINALLY FREE!"-attitude one might expect and that is based on a thousand factors at once.

Before even getting to Cazador, he was faced with a very harsh truth about his own dealings - seven thousand harsh truths. So he's burdened by that. He's faced down his abuser only to be mocked further. He was, once again, confronted with the very true possibility of death. His life was, once again, in someone else's hand for a short moment. He had to fight, and he had to make a huge decision right there after.

There's a lot happening in a very short amount of time, a lot he has to deal with, and he's probably shocked, overwhelmed, and panicked. But that isn't even all.

Astarion is mourning, too.

He's not mourning Cazador, the man that tortured and abused him for so many years, no. He's mourning himself.

Astarion mentions it himself at various points in the game, but he was in the prime of his life when he was turned.

He was a very young elf, only 39, when a group of Gur attacked him and beat him to deaths door over a decision he'd made as magistrate. He was only 39 when he was forced to choose between becoming a spawn or dying a horrible, unfair death.

And no man is an island - Astarion might've had family or friends, pets or even lovers. He probably had plans for himself, goals he wanted to achieve and places he wanted to see. He had an entire life to live, a life he was forced to abandon because someone else made it necessary.

He's mourning that, the man he never got to be, and the things he'll never be able to regain. He's mourning all the pain he had to endure in his second life, the things he had to face under Cazadors reign and all that it cost him.

He's mourning everything - what was, what is and what could never be.

But why is he mourning? He's free now, right? He can now do the things he always wanted to. He even got his revenge, so he should be fine, right?

Well...wrong. That is not how trauma; how healing works and that is the reality he's now faced with.

Those who've faced abuse often live with a "Once I get there" mindset. It's a very normal way of trying to cope, of trying to hold on and keep going. They tend to cling to the idea that once they get to a certain point or achieve a certain goal, they'll be fine.

Once I can move out, I'll be fine.

Once I graduate, I'll be free.

Once I get my revenge, I'll be okay again.

People tend to think that the removal of a stressor is enough to make everything okay because that is usually how stress works. And yes, it's faulty thinking but it's completely normal and very common - I believed in it, most of my clients believe in it and Astarion very much believed the same.

I'd go as far as to say that he desperately tried to delude himself deeper into that sort of thinking. (Also very common behaviour.)

If, for example, you go and deal with Lorroakan before dealing with Cazador, we can get a tiny glimpse of that.

Dame Aylin is not as elated and happy after the battle, and Astarion notices. He comments on it, and you, as Tav, can say something along the lines of how revenge may not be all it's hyped up to be or ask him if he's worried he's going to feel the same. Astarion almost immediately draws back and denies it - it will be great, Aylin is probably just tired. His revenge will be the most amazing day of his life and super satisfying, and he'll enjoy it a ton.

Now, after his revenge, he's faced with the ugly truth. Revenge truly isn't all it is said to be.

The conversation you mention is probably the day after, the one where he wonders why he is still thinking about Cazador. Cazador is dead, and he should be done with it, but he clearly isn't.

And that is something he didn't want to see before.

Revenge doesn't magically heal him. His wounds don't suddenly disappear, and everything that happened doesn't suddenly fade to nothingness just because he finally got to kill Cazador.

It's all still there, it still hurts, and he's still not okay.

That is the thing that's hurting him, the thing that could be taken for regret.

It's not truly regret.

It's just the behaviour of a man who is still in pain after all he had to do. Who hoped he'd be cured by doing this thing - a thing that was difficult and painful and terrifying - only to be let down.

It's just Astarion, realising that healing will take time, and nothing, no revenge in all the realms, will change that.

[house-afire]

Knives in His Feet (Ed/Frenchie)

Prompt: 100 words of cats

“You’re the one who made the cat flag, aren’t you?”

Frenchie did his best not to jump out of his skin. It was sort of Blackbeard’s deal, especially these days, to suddenly be right behind you, so the startle reaction was just something you had to train out of yourself, wasn’t it, like needing sleep or flinching at the sight of blood. He always had blood on him now, drying around his fingernails and in the weave of his clothes.

“Thought it’d be fierce,” Frenchie said. He hastily added, “Skeleton with the heart, though, that’s better. Some of my best work, really.”

Blackbeard leaned close to him, his voice a hot whisper in Frenchie’s ear. “Want to see something weird?”

No, he actually didn’t. A guy asked you that kind of question, it wasn’t ever the good kind of weird, like a funny-colored parrot or a biscuit that sort of looked like you.

But he liked all his fingers and toes right where they were, thanks, so he wasn’t going to make trouble.

“’Course,” he said, following Blackbeard to the captain’s cabin.

It’d been a pretty place, in Stede’s day. Bit of a pit now, if Frenchie were honest. Very obviously the home of a man going through a real shitstorm of a break-up: damp hankies everywhere, slashed-up paintings, ashes from the ritual burning of the ex’s possessions, all that jazz. Sort of smelled funny.

“You hate cats,” Blackbeard told him.

“Hate’s a bit strong. Healthy terror of them, I’d say.”

Blackbeard’s kohl was streaked with tear-tracks, but picking up on that didn’t really make his bared-teeth smile any better. “Would you kill one?”

Frenchie had heard about Fang’s dog by now. Did Blackbeard have a cat in here, waiting for an appointment with Frenchie-the-executioner?

“D’you want me to get Iz?” Frenchie offered. “Think the whole, ah, death thing is more his speed.” Not that Izzy didn’t look as ashen and out-to-lunch as the rest of them, lately.

“Oh, Izzy won’t kill this kitty,” Blackbeard said, with something dark curling in his voice: satisfaction and anguish and bitterness all mixed together. “One of the few things he won’t do, even when he’s ordered, the little fucker.”

“Guess we all draw the line somewhere,” Frenchie said.

“But you’re smarter. You wouldn’t stick your head in the lion’s mouth, would you? Fucking terrible idea, right? Something shows you it’s a monster, and you know it’s a monster, you’ve got to put it down, not trust it, not let it go on gnawing at you.”

Did lions gnaw? He’d have thought they could just bite straight through. But then, he’d lost the plot here, he was pretty sure.

“Yeah,” Blackbeard breathed. “Yeah, you’re a smart man. ‘Healthy terror,’ love that. Gotta be healthy.”

He started peeling off his leathers.

So they were doing that, then? Frenchie could work with that. He couldn’t say he was much in the mood, what with the exhaustion and the mind-numbing fear and all, but he also couldn’t say he hadn’t thought about it. Never imagined there’d be this much preamble about cats, though. Well, nobody could accuse Blackbeard of being predictable.

“Right,” Frenchie said, undoing the clasps on his jacket. “Bit of fun’s healthy too, yeah? Good thinking.”

He was a touch behind on the undressing, so he hadn’t gotten more than his jacket off before Blackbeard went and turned into a cat.

Frenchie decided to fit in that jumping-out-of-the-skin bit after all, and he recoiled to the point where he banged his back against the door. It wasn’t every day that you saw a man you were ready to bed turn into a … small-ish panther? Crazily enormous house cat? There were silver strands of fur mixed in with all the black.

Blackwhiskers, Frenchie decided, and then he had to bite down on his lip until it bled, because there were certain laughs that could come out of you that you could never get back in. He didn’t want to find out how far gone he was just from that.

Blackwhiskers was even more terrifying than most cats. Wicked sharp claws, and a hiss that made every hair on Frenchie’s body stand on end. But, well—its tail wasn’t all bushy, was it? And cats did that, when they were pissed off at you: made themselves into bottle-brushes to scrub the soul clean out of your body. It wasn’t slinking into a hunting pose either.

Frenchie wanted to jump ship to get away from it, but that wasn’t the same as wanting it dead, least of all dead by his own hand. He was more of a lover than a fighter, really.

And Blackbeard had it all wrong if he’d thought Frenchie would kill him while he was like this. Cats were a holy terror, but Frenchie had never gone around picking them off one by one. He’d armored himself in them, flown them on his flag, tucked their claws between his fingers. There was no point in wasting what scared you. Blackbeard was fucking terrifying, too, but sometimes that had kept them safe.

Mostly kept them safe from dangers Blackbeard himself had led them to, true, but safe all the same.

He knew his fear wasn’t all Blackbeard had counted on for this, though. He never looked at a thing from just one angle: it was like he had eyes like a fly’s, everything broken up into all these shards of possibilities. He’d known that Frenchie would have to think about the others, too.

It was hard to imagine any of them would ever get close enough to Blackbeard to do a proper mutiny, with a quick in-and-out, sorry-about-that knife plunge or a proper heave-ho with an anchor. Blackbeard had them all outclassed, even Jim. Izzy … there was a chance Izzy could do it, skills-wise, but he was three toes down and still loyal, so there wasn’t much hope there.

Cat was … manageable, maybe. And Wee John and Roach and Olu and the rest had all died parched and starved somewhere, and the rest of the crew was coming apart at the seams, and the box in Frenchie’s head was beginning to look a bit battered. And if Blackbeard died, they could all breathe for a change. Sail to Nassau, maybe. Regroup.

And if Blackbeard died, Blackbeard would be dead. And he hadn’t always been … this. It wasn’t so long ago that he would’ve been the cat on the flag, not the cat on your chest in the middle of the night.

And it was awful, wasn’t it, that Blackbeard had called him in here for this? It was so sad it made something twist around inside Frenchie’s chest.

“Can you still understand me?” Frenchie said softly.

Blackwhiskers gave him another hiss. Bit hard to translate.

“I know it might backfire on me and all,” Frenchie said, sliding down the door to sit on the floor, “or on the rest of us, but I don’t particularly want to kill you, if that’s all right.”

The cat’s ears flattened against its head. Very cursed skull shape, that. He ought to keep it in mind for their next flag, if he lived long enough to stitch one.

“But,” Frenchie continued, “I’m still not clear on whether you’ve got, like, a human brain in there or not. Far as I know, you’re just working with cat instincts. So if you wanted petting, or anything like that … I mean, I’d think it was just the cat asking for it.”

The cat’s eyes were luminous, like those eerie bits of the sea. It stalked towards him, and Frenchie held his breath, waiting to see if it would claw his face off or sink its teeth into his throat and toss him side-to-side.

It dug its claws deep into Frenchie’s legs, instead. It felt like being sliced open by a bunch of white-hot razors. Having his clothes bloodied from the inside-out made for a bit of a change, at least. If he didn't die in here, he'd need to dump some rum over the scratches so they wouldn’t infect. (To be fair, if he did die here, infection would be the least of his worries, wouldn’t it?)

Blackwhiskers settled down on Frenchie’s lap, its claws still rhythmically flexing in and out of his thighs. It glared up at him.

“On it,” Frenchie said. He stroked a hand down the cat’s back: once, twice, three times.

Blackwhiskers didn’t purr for it, but it put its knives away, and Frenchie was of a mind to count that as a win. He might have to grab that bottle of surgical spirits after all.

The cat’s fur was soft and fine as silk, the way he used to imagine Edward Teach’s hair would be. He had always marked those fantasies down as pleasant but unlikely, since Ed had only had eyes for Stede, but here he was, living proof that dreams did come true, in a fashion. Granted, he wasn’t having a nice nooner with his boss’s boyfriend so much as he was petting a suicidal cat-man who’d ordered most of his friends marooned, but if you looked at it a certain way, those were just details. Life never worked out how you thought it would.

“I’d like to hold on to what I’ve still got, you know?” Frenchie said, tentatively scratching the cat’s ears. “You included, I think? So, just one man’s recommendation and all, but you could stop trying to get people to kill you.”

Blackwhiskers let out a noise that was like a strangled creak, still less like a purr than the opening a door maybe better left closed. Kindness was always chancy that way.

Frenchie decided to be hopeful about it. It was nice, being hopeful. Nice and dangerous, like an enormous warm cat napping on some of your blood, but still the best he’d felt in weeks. No sense in ignoring a silver lining.

[ayyy-imma-ninja]

Questions for the SK boys!! No idea if these have already been asked, but if they have, sorry, feel free to ignore!!

What would they do for a child under the control of abusive/manipulative parents, except the child either doesn't realize there's abuse or still feels some sort of attachment to the parents?

And also, relating to this, what if the abusers don't realize what they're doing is wrong, like they're either ignorant or was raised a certain way?

And then final question (sorry for the long ask length ;w;), we know Sun is a cat fanatic. Is there any animal Moon particularly enjoys above others?

LOVE this AU btw!!! I stayed up till like 1 AM last night binge-reading all the current chapters of the SK AU and MY GOD i'm hooked. obsessed with all the crime-solving and sleuthing happening... I love reading about stuff like that!!

The grayscale illustrations at random points in each chapter also perfectly set the mood!! Well done!!

hello! wanted to wait till i was at my computer to answer these >w<

If the child was unaware and still had an attachment to the parent, I think the boys' first step of action would be to report the abuse. Have the child be taken somewhere safe. Otherwise, they will go about their routine as normal and kill the abusive parent. They do keep in mind how it would affect the child, but decide it to be for the best...

That second bit is tricky, and one I've answered many times. I feel like the boys would give them one single chance to rectify things for the sake of the child(ren). If the parent doesn't realize or change their ways and are still perceived as a threat to kids, the boys target them without further question.

And I know I've answered this question before and I always forget my answers ;w; Moon doesn't mind cats, but they're not his fave. I think he'd like bats, or fish, reptiles. I can't remember ;w;

and thanks so much! I just hope we do it justice ;w;

and I'm glad people like the inclusion of the illustrations! I felt the need to after adding some to the very first drabble I ever did for the AU. Now I just need to commit ;w; I scroll through the story and find the best moments that could be illustrated. I am not the best at drawing gore, so I wouldn't expect any of that in the illustrations >w<

[danthediamondminecart]

Hi, so I couldn't restrain myself with a 2 month wait since these questions just randomly popped into my head.

Q1: Is there a possibility Kreek might be a science experiment? I mean, considering his dad is literally a scientist, he is human but has somewhat inhuman capabilities, his hair shows emotions depending on his mood which totally no ordinary human has that feature, and the fact he's blind in one eye with no explanation whatsoever on how exactly did he got blind on one eye.

Q2: Who summoned Tanqr and what business does Tanqr need to do? Since Tanqr is good at shooting games and stuff, could he possibly be hiding a double life as an assassin? Does he need to kill a certain someone to finish said Business he was summoned for?

Q3: Did Pinkleaf die in Robloxia? If so, did a player revive him, a dev, an admin, or an npc. If so, what was their intention of reviving Pinkleaf?

Q4: Are hackers more powerful than gods? Considering I recalled that a God was killed by a bunch of hackers.

Q5: Since Leah is a cupid, does she mostly show her cupid features or not? If so, who knows Leah is a cupid?

Q6: Can you give us some headcannons regarding the Admins and Developers?

Q7: So is Builderman and Notch technically God's in your AU? If so, are they Npc God's or Player God's?

Q8: Are the Admins and Developers, sort of Demi-God adjacent of some sorts?

Q9: Are all of the Youtubers in your AU have a specific specialization, like Tanqr being good in shooting games, Pinkleaf playing Parkour, Bella being good with roleplays, etc.

Q10: If a Devloper or an Admin sort of dies, who revives them?

Q11: Are there any Youtuber who are an Admin or Developer of some sorts, examples: Megan (Overlook Bay), Kreek (Timmeh), Etc.

That's all, thank you!

It's late night, let's see if I can answer these asks coherently! As a note, I won't be going too into depth into the character backstories for characters who are in Battle Life SMP as I don't really want to delve into those until Battle Life is over.

Q1) Nope! Kreek is fully human and was never a / intended to be a science experiment. Kreek’s ‘hair showing emotions’ thing is not something that actually happens - it’s just a bit of visual shorthand, like what you’d see in a cartoon. It’s stylisation, not any actual substance. As for his blindness, he lost use of that eye due to an accident when he was a little kid that he doesn’t remember. His dad is a scientist, sure, but he had different plans for Kreek - not experimenting on him.

Q2) Tanqr was forced into a contract when he was young by a group of unsavoury people seeking to use demonic power with no repercussions. While he did escape and is free to do what he wants now, he technically never fulfilled the rules of his contract, so he cannot go home and cannot be re-summoned.

Q3) Yes, Pink died in Robloxia. I've kinda gone back and forth on this but I think it's safest to say that Pink was revived by a trainee Admin who hadn't learned that you're not supposed to revive dead Robloxians after 12 hours yet. I haven't decided when he died in my headcanons, aka if he was already 'famous' in-universe or not, but it's highly likely that he was, so having a famous celebrity die, especially since he was clearly murdered was...probably something this admin wanted to avoid. (I think I said previously Pink was revived by magic. I'm retconning that. I retcon my headcanons a lot of the time, so, uh, if you notice inconsistencies, that's why - I'm usually still figuring them out.)

Q4) "God was killed by a bunch of hackers." First of all, WHAT Second of all, some of them are on the same level (ie 1x1x1x1), others are nowhere near that level (eg Jenna).

Q5) Yep! I haven't drawn them yet, but I have fiddled around with a redesign for Leah with the new headcanons in mind. She has wings and a few more heart designs on her outfit now, mainly (though I like to think these wings are easily retractable, mainly for my own sanity when drawing her).

Q6) Admittedly, I don't really...keep up with the admins and devs, just the RBB yters and their adjacent folk. So I have no HCs to give, sorry.

Q7) I mean, probably? Even if he isn't necessarily a god he probably does have god-like power - in my head he's like a prime minister/president/SCP-Administrator where all incredibly major decisions must be run by him.

Q8) Nope. Admins/Devs can range from funky species to humans to gods and in-between. To become an admin you must learn playercode, to become a dev you must learn worldcode. That is all that separates them from regular Robloxians.

Q9) Yep! Those specialisations are their jobs, so to speak, and also what they became famous for. Kreek became famous as a paranormal investigator, Tanqr became famous as a fighter/gladiator, Pink for his parkour skill, all the roleplayers for acting/directing/other film jobs, etc etc.

Q10) Fellow admins/developers. Admins and Devs still have playercode, so they can still be revived using code. Again, just don't break the 12 hour time limit and all should be okay.

Q11) A lot of the time, I work the games the youtubers make into their backstories (eg Wayfind Creek with Kreek's backstory) instead of having them be devs in-universe. I'd say that the hosts are devs, MiniToon is obviously a dev, no one else really has that ability. Fun fact, Thinknoodles has knowledge of playercode - the problem is he only has knowledge of Minecraftian playercode, so it doesn't really translate.

[iceclew]

Oh we are talking theme songs mood boards, I'm in for it, sit down guys ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )

First of all, I love Mumford's so much. It reminds me a lot of my teen years, as i'm 31 now. I can imagine Kafka having *those* years in his teen life as well, especially going through the mood of album "Sigh no more" - being his go to music choice, when realising his dreams about getting into the JAKDF are at risk, while being rejected each year at the entrance examination. "I will wait" is like the positive turn in the arc, when he's finally made it into the Def. Force, and despite all other drama/weird stuff happening, he gradually draws hope (which might just be only possible because of a certain vice-capt. being like, 'hey actually you failed again, but I grant you a chance anyway, because I believe in you, also first of ll things you're human to me, even tho i literally tried to kill you in kaiju form, but anyway, now i dig it, i teach you anything, we'll win this damn war together how about it.) yes. very much yes. very wholesome choice there. <3

----------

So just as everybody (at least that's what I tell myself), I probably have A LOT of diff. songs frequently run down on spotify regarding my love and addiction for Kafka, Hoshina and their ship.

L e t m e e l a b o r a t e , p l e a s e : ╰(▔∀▔)╯

I'm very much hooked up by the rather angsty part/period of time, when Kafkas Kaijuform is revealed, so a lot of my song choices are rather angsty, I guess ( I just love melancholy tho haha) I'm very much into every possible genre, so prepare for about everything here:

some Kafhoshi song choices of mine being:

Favorite Crime - Olivia Rodrigo (my go to choice, I'd say, when I think about them. I know it's rather "soft", but I like to think about them as being very fluff around each other, as soon as they realize the can drop their hard shell )

Million reasons - Lady Gaga (ok, I don't now about this honestly, but i think so much about them, while hearing this, i don't have to think of reasons for it at all, haha)

Some type of Skin - AURORA (especially the acustic version, and yay, it's something positive for once! xD It's sort of my positive POV about them being tiny cute bebe bois dreaming of being cool kaiju hunters one day. <3 it's more like a f*ck this complicated world, let's just do what we wanna do, and let's do it together, nothing else matters, thank you)

CHIHIRO - Billie Eilish (...yeah this lives in the kinky part of my mind of them thank you for asking. NEXT! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ )

--------

AND THEN, I love myself some combat/ass kicking soundtrack for my bois, and some funny/fluff songs, just to sum up a few for completion:

Hoshina: Avalanche - Cellar Darling; RATATATAA - BABYMETAL ft Electric Callboy; Centuries - Fall Out Boy; GASSHOW - illion; Melanie Martinez - Me too; 24k Magic - Bruno Mars; It's gonna be me - *NSYNC (listen, I can explain, I swear :D the idea of Hoshina digging *NSYNC just to piss of Narumi, who is a fucking Backstreet boy fanboi, lives in my mind for free, and I can't put it aside, seeing them have a stand-off of which bands better, each time 3rd and 1st Division meet each other)

Kafka: Limits - Bad Omen; liMOusIne - BMTH ft. AURORA;i can't control it - Kontrust; Night Dancer - imase; CROW - UPIKO; Tokio Calling - ATARASHII GAKKO!; Kingslayer - BMTH ft. Babymetal

Does anyone else think that the relationship anthem for KafHoshi could be 'I Will Wait For You' by Mumford and Sons?

I mean, just look at the lyrics.

"You forgave and I won't forget"

"I'll use my head along side my heart."

"A tethered mind free from the lies."

Looking at it in my twisted little mind, from this perspective it feels like a war-torn Kafka coming home to the one man that grounds him. Hoshina gave this man a fresh start, forgave him for lying about being Kaiju number 8, and gave him access to tools to help him in the coming fights. Hoshina swept away any thought he had about not being strong enough to fight for others.

When he's with this man... how could one's soul not feel painted with gold.

Or you could see this through a platonic lens and say its about Kafka's relationship with all of Division Three.

Your choice, no issues here.

[arty-chase]

Con Man's Daughter

Posting this because there isn't enough biodad! John Constantine content.

[Masterlist]

(Part 2)

-----

I feel like this should be a Damianette story or just platonic relationship after Jon got aged-up to seventeen and Damian wanted a friend his age but doesn’t want to admit it.

So basically there is this big bad in Gotham using magic that Batman was fighting at the time and enlisted John Constantine to help out.

John realizes that the villain is using a Miraculous.

“Oh. I think I know how he gets his powers. And lucky for you, Bats, I know an expert on this special brand of magic.”

And he did the smart thing and called up Marinette who at the time was already Guardian and was looking for other lost Miraculouses like in the Treasure Hunter AU I wrote.

He calls her at a really bad time. She was in the process of being chased by the guardians of the place. Monsters and evil spirits.

“Hello, Dad. What do you need and can you do it quickly?”

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s me. How is my little cupcake up to these days?”

“You called at a bad time.” Gunshots.

“WAS THAT A GUN I HEARD? WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU, YOUNG LADY?!”

“Somewhere in Japan. Getting a Miraculous. And why can’t you call me to check in on me and not ask me to help you with whatever mess you got yourself into.” More gunshots sounds and it was telling that Marinette was using a gun.

“Where did you get a gun? And don’t you have school?”

“It’s summer break. Don’t worry Maman and Papa know. Well, the fact that I am in Japan anyways.” Marinette sounded a little out of breath. Roaring and horrifying sounds at the other end. “Can we do this later?”

“As it happens, there is a villain going around Gotham with what I think is a Miraculous.”

Swears on the other end.

“Oi. Watch your fucking language, young lady.”

“How about a No and move the fuck back, old man. I am coming over right now.”

“Old man? I am not that old-” as a magic blue portal opens up in the Bat Cave.

And a red Chinese dragon comes out with someone riding it.

Its rider was a black-haired girl. She had a trench coat similar to Constantine's. I imagine her with a fedora. Like Carmen Sandiego style but not red. Sometimes red but only when she has to steal it from a museum or high security places and she leaves a name card with the name Carmen Sandiego. A sword strapped to her back and a dagger to her thigh.

She had a gun in her hand which she used to shoot the monsters as it was halfway through the portal and yelled out the spell to close it.

“Brilliant entrance but you are in lots of trouble, little lady. What were you thinking about going to another country unsupervised? And isn’t there still a butterfly problem in Paris?”

“One, I wasn’t unsupervised. I had Tikki, a billion years old being and a sort of god. Two.Well, it got boring trying to track Hawk-bitch down. And I found this legend about a guy with a Miraculous who disappeared in the temple and thought hey, more miraculous could mean another edge to defeating Moth-man.”

More bickering and John grounding Marinette who was acting very nonchalant about it.

Okay, at this point, I should say that Batman and Robin are in the background trying to make some sense.

Batman is surprised to find out that Constantine has a daughter who is also involved in magic like her Father but an apparently more specialised kind called the Miraculous. He is a little miffed that he didn’t know about John having a daughter. He did consider it weird at first that she had a slight french accent unlike her father’s Liverpool accent although she pronounced some words like he does.

He also connected some dots that she is also the Parisian heroine, Lady Rouge who Wonder Woman introduced to the League a while back and had declined to join the Young Justice or Teen Titans until everything in Paris was resolved.

Damian on the other hand was suspicious of the new arrival and came to the same conclusion as his father about the daughter thing.

Batman after a few minutes, clears his throat.

The Constantines stop arguing.

“Bonjour. Batman. Robin. Pleasure to meet you. I am Mari Constantine and yes, I am this homeless looking man’s brilliant daughter.” “Hey”

“Well, Mari. Your father thinks you can help us with this new criminal turning Gotham upside down. Literally in some cases. He said that you might be able to help us.” Batman said as he pulled up zoomed in picture of the Miraculous.

Mari looks through the Miraculous grimoire and tells them all about it and power-ups, basically the most effective thing to defeat the guy is to get the Miraculous off them. Plus a spell that would make the Miraculous ineffective if casted within a certain radius of it.

“Thank you for the information, Mari. Constantine, let’s go.”

Mari made to follow them.

“You young lady are grounded and staying here.”

“I don’t need another supervillain using the Miraculous which are my responsibility as Guardian to retrieve them for their own misuse and wreaking havoc on the city. And what if there is an akuma in Paris? I can’t go there if I am grounded in the Batcave although it is a cool place to hang out.”

“You can portal back to Paris but you are not going to follow me. Understood?”

“yes. crystal”

“Good. After me and Batsy get the Miraculous, you can do your Guardian duties.”

Damian snickers. Until Batman cut his mood short, “You are staying behind too. Robin.”

“But Father, why? I am much more capable than Constantine.”

“Hey!” Both father and daughter.

Damian is staying behind too because of the Miraculous power or other reasons and keeps an eye on Mari.

Damian stays behind and there were some protests about mari mad about having a babysitter and Damian doesn’t want to be a babysitter. Despite the two of them being around the same age.

“I got an eye on you so no funny business.”

“Okay, Dad, I am not going to have sex with Robin.” Mari said with a shit- eating grin. Robin definitely didn’t blush.

“I hate you sometimes.”

“I love you too, Dad. Go save the world. Byee.”

John eyes her suspiciously because she is not one to give up that easily usually.

He casts a spell to watch her as they leave. and which she totally knew about.

“So...I have one question.”

“Tt, ask and don’t bother me anymore.”

“Is Batman Bruce Wayne?”

Damian looks up, totally caught off guard.

“I am going to take that as a yes.”

Puts sword at her neck. “How did you find out?!”

“Opened up Google Maps and saw that we are under Wayne Manor. Connected the dots. Also I already knew when Dad made a bet with me once to find out Batman’s secret identity but he never did confirm it for me. And can you please not tell your father about this? I don’t feel like being interrogated by the Bat in the future yet.”

“Father must know about this.”

“I saw you looking at Scarlet here. An animal lover then? You can give her some belly rubs. She deserves it after helping me outrun those monsters.”

His silence was brought. To pet a dragon.

One thing after another and he ends up bringing out his pets-Jerry the turkey, Goliath the dragon-bat, Titus- and her introducing him to her other pets like a hellhound, griffin and other mythical creatures who mostly roam free but come to her when she calls for them and also the kwamis, at least the ones who came with her.

After 30 mins have passed, “So Robin how do you feel about disobeying our fathers?”

“I am in.”

“Depends. Are we going after the (villain's name) ?”

“Yes.”

Awesome montage of them getting rid of the spell John casted and flying out of the Batcave on their respective giant flying pets to the villain’s base.

Meanwhile, their fathers are not doing so well and are trapped in a death trap. John can’t say the spell because the villain made him unable to talk.

“At least, the kids are staying put.”

Cut to Damian and Mari jumping off their pets and onto the roof. Taking out the guards posted there and going into the building all sneakily and also taking out the guards that come their way.

They dropped into the room where their fathers and the villain is.

“Why am I not surprised?”

Villain starts an evil monologue about his mastermind plan to which Damian cuts it short by trying to cut him down with his katana. Mari goes to deactivate the death trap.

They are evenly matched with Damian’s training and the Miraculous.

Mari steps in as Damian was about to be killed. Taps on the shoulder of the villain and when he turns around, gives an awesome right hook that knocks him out.

Takes away the Miraculous and curses him. Wiped the dude’s memories of it.

“When I said stay in the Batcave, I meant stay behind at the Batcave. What point of being grounded, don’t you understand?”

“You mean, Oh, Mari, light of my life, my wonderful daughter, thank you for saving my ass. You are the best.’ by that, right?”

-----

Mari and Damian exchanged numbers and email addresses.

As she was about to leave the Batcave, “It’s been nice meeting you, Mr. Wayne.” and leaves with a wink.

John ���ungrounds’ her for the look on Batman’s face.

-----

After this, Marinette and Damian become friends who bitch and vent to each other about their alter egos and various villains of their respective cities. (In codes, just in case) They also share updates about their pets and love of drawings.

They have that type of friendship where they trade favors. Mari calls Damian to Paris sometimes to help out with the akuma of the day and Damian sometimes calls her in when Bruce doesn’t let him go investigate a case so he can sneak out by magical means or as back up for when his brothers were too annoying to deal with.

It’s summer break so no missing school.

John and Bruce are aware of their friendship and some of the shenanigans the pair gets into behind their back.

-----

-----

Right. how this all started...

John and Sabine first met when the latter was still in college somewhere in France. John was tracking down a demonic entity which was targeting Sabine for some reason and she was the next target.

John saved her life and exorcised the demon. There was a heat of the moment thing and they had a one-night stand. There were a few more flings and hook-ups after that night.

And nine months later, Marinette Cheryl Cheng-Constantine was born.

When Sabine first found out, she called John to come over and he thought that it was a call for another hook-up and was very surprised to find out that it was not and that he was going to be a father.

They both like each other but do not want to be in a relationship together so they both remained as friends and John agreed after some strong-arming at the very least to meet his daughter before he goes to do his job. And pay for child support. And help Sabine during her pregnancy.

Pregnant Sabine was someone you don’t want to mess with. And John has never met a demon or anyone scarier than her.

He was at first not into meeting his child and there was a self-pity party he threw himself with how the child was going to live a bad life because he was the dad and how he destroyed every good thing in his life.

That’s why he is going to meet the baby once and leave maybe a letter and the occasional birthday present and stay out of their life. Forever.

The day Marinette was born and it took one look into her eyes for the HellBlazer to fall under the spell and all of his plans to stay out of her life to burn away.

At first, he tried. He really tried but he couldn’t do it.

Lasted 4 months before he came back, wanting to place protection spells on her and sigils around the house to keep away the forces of Heaven and Hell and other entities so they won’t use her against him as a bargaining chip.

Sabine calls him to babysit. He could have refused and Sabine would have easily found a babysitter. He moans and whines about how he is a great mage and not a bloody babysitter. Sabine retorts that it is actually called parenting since he is Marinette’s father. He grumbles but in the end, agrees.

The great John Constantine is wrapped around the little girl’s finger.

He was around for some of Marinette’s firsts. Her first word was “John”.

It made him cry. He wasn’t a good man and he doesn’t deserve someone this precious. His daughter doesn’t deserve someone like him as a father but fate made it that way and what can you do about it.

After an exhausting week of doing the usual and coming back from Hell, he saw that Sabine had sent him a video. It was Marinette taking her first steps.

Chas swears that in all the years that he has known John Constantine he has never seen the man look so happy.

------

When Tom came into the picture, John was there to take care of a toddler Marinette while Tom and Sabine went on dates.

Insert John threatening a much bigger Tom while holding a baby Marinette with wide eyes and hugging a teddy bear with the same coat as John’s. (It was something Sabine brought on a whim and to tease John when he came around.)

Tom is supportive and treats Marinette like his own flesh and blood.

John resolved to leave for good now that Tom would be there to be a father figure for Marinette.

That plan fell into the drain the moment he was going to leave for what was supposed to be the last time before Sabine pulled him back and knocked some sense into him.

His face was a big giveaway. Sabine knows that despite his claims of being a terrible father for Marinette, he was a good one and damnit she was going to make sure that Marinette would get to know her actual father.

Tom later made an awkward talk with John about how he was not going to replace John’s role as Marinette’s father.

Marinette was the flower girl at Tom and Sabine’s wedding. John was there too.

During bedtime, John would read her stories and use his magic to make it come to life. Although he would feel a little drained afterwards, it was worth it to see her smile.

Sometimes he told stories about his tamer adventures. (After cutting out some of the inappropriate bits)

------

When Marinette was about 5 or 6, Sabine was out on an errand and Tom was at home with Mari and helping her with her homework. There was a crash downstairs at the bakery. Tom went down to check it out to find John lying on the ground.

With a weak cough, he said, “Close the door. Close it.” Before losing consciousness

Tom did before a man with pitch black eyes slammed against it.

Thankfully John had installed heavy wards around the bakery when it first opened.

They held against the demon on John’s tail. Tom brought John inside and unsure of what to do, grabbed a rolling pin on the counter.

The man outside started pounding on the glass door and every time his hands touched the door, light glowed outwards, showing the invisible magic barrier around the bakery. Sparks and steams fizzled with every pound.

Despite the reddening and burns of his hands, the not-human didn’t slow down.

“ʝօɦռ....ʏօʊ ӄռօա ȶɦǟȶ ɨȶ'ֆ օռʟʏ ǟ ʍǟȶȶɛʀ օʄ ȶɨʍɛ ɮɛʄօʀɛ ɨ ɮʀɛǟӄ ȶɦʀօʊɢɦ ȶɦɛֆɛ աǟʀɖֆ. օռƈɛ ɨ ɢɛȶ ʏօʊ,” He laughs, the sound sends chills down the large man’s spine, “ȶɦɛʀɛ ǟʀɛ ֆօ ʍǟռʏ ȶɦɨռɢֆ ɨ ɦǟʋɛ քʟǟռռɛɖ ʄօʀ ʏօʊ.”

Tom knew that Marinette’s father was a con man. Come on, Master and Practitioner of the Dark Arts and Occult. But he was a good father nonetheless despite all his flaws and Sabine liked him enough so that was good enough for him.

Before today, magic was just the sleight of hands and use of fancy tools to sell the illusions. Now, with a could-be-a-demon knocking on his door to get to the father of the girl he sees as his daughter, he’s not so sure.

“Tom? Qu'est-ce qui se passe? (What’s going on?)” A little voice came from the stairs, “Dad!” Marinette padded across the floor to the body of her passed out father.

She shook him awake and there were a few soft slaps to the face.

“Dad, what’s happened?”

John mumbles, “Demon…. possessing some rich guy….. Exorcism…. Doesn’t like me very much…Don’t worry...wards going to hold.”

John manages to stand before falling down and Tom catches him before he hits the floor. He has a concussion. Tom turns to Marinette, “Go, Hide and don’t come out until It’s safe.” which she did

Unfortunately, a while later, Sabine returns from her night out and the demon upon seeing Sabine. “ɛӼƈɛʟʟɛռȶ..”

The demon possessed Sabine and the previously possessed dude hit the sidewalk with a thud.

“ɨռȶɛʀɛֆȶɨռɢ....” The voice coming out of Sabine didn’t sound like her mother which scared Marinette a lot. “օքɛռ ȶɦɨֆ ɖօօʀ օʀ,”the demon pulled a knife out of thin air, ,“ȶɦɨֆ ɮօɖʏ ɢɛȶֆ ɨȶ.”

Tom hesitated until the demon put the knife on Sabine’s neck and put enough force for a thin line of blood to be shown.

He opens the door and the demon knocks him out. Stepping over his unconscious body and looking down on it, “ʄօʀ ȶɦǟȶ, ɨ ǟʍ ɢօɨռɢ ȶօ ʟɛȶ ʏօʊ ʟɨʋɛ ʊռȶɨʟ ɨ ǟʍ ɖօռɛ աɨȶɦ ʝօɦռ, օʄ ƈօʊʀֆɛ.” and cackles. The sound was so wrong and unnerving and little Marinette tried very hard for her sobs not to be heard.

Too bad the demon had super hearing. “Come out, my little blossom. Maman is home. Why don’t you come out and give me a hug?”

It sounded so much like her mother and she nearly believed that it was her mother and not some entity in control of her body.

But she knew better from John’s stories of dealing with demons and how they would use the voice of loved ones to lure them out and into a trap. (Definitely not something one should tell as a bedtime story but Marinette was very different and had an unconventional childhood with John Constantine as her father.)

Wait...she got struck with an idea but she wasn’t sure if it would work.

Before she could do anything, the door of the cabinet she was hiding in was opened and she was dragged out.

The demon lifted her a few feet above the ground by the collar of her dress.

It heard Marinette saying something. “աɦǟȶ ǟʀɛ ʏօʊ ֆǟʏɨռɢ ƈɦɨʟɖ, ֆքɛǟӄ ʟօʊɖɛʀ?”

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.” Marinette was now screaming the words at the top of her lungs. She repeated the spell over and over again with fierce determination.

John, being his paranoid self, taught her the spell for an exorcism, just in case. Demons spared no one, not even a girl.

It screamed “NO….” as Sabine’s body contorted in strange angles before a dark shadow seemed to be dragged down into the ground. It made a desperate attempt to possess John before it was pulled away and disappeared. There was no sign that there was a demon attack.

After John woke up, he managed to piece together that his 5-years-old (Sorry 5 and a half) daughter sent a demon back to hell.

He was a very proud dad. (He was a tad worried about the consequences from this event and demons hold one hell of a grudge. He wanted his daughter to live a very safe and happy life. The bakery’s wards also need an upgrade.)

He also got the job of explaining what he actually did to Tom. And lots of reassuring.

Sabine, on one hand, was not happy that Marinette knew how to do magic. That is until John told her that he did it just in case so she can protect herself and later it was agreed that Marinette can learn some Magic spells and charms to better protect herself and when she is older, she can decide if she wants to continue or not.

----

(Part 2)

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Everybody Talks Too Much (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Mute!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language, brief violence Summary: Whenever Cassandra gets angry, no one wants to deal with her. Well, no one but you, that is. Thankfully, the middle child appreciates your company... not that she'd ever admit it. Notes: Another self-indulgent fic with a selectively mute reader. This one's a lil different. Sections in italic are mostly indications that the reader is miming actions in order to communicate, though there are a few internal thoughts that are marked as such. Unlike the past two I've done, this takes place pre-relationship, so there's some mutual pining of sorts. I think that's the word.

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

Among the many servants of Castle Dimitrescu, there were a number of secret rules to be followed. Guidelines that were never written down, only spoken in hushed whispers, for specific (and dangerous) circumstances. Most could be divided into one of two categories: 1, how to reduce the chances of a Lady of the house killing someone. 2, how to make sure that if they kill someone, it will not be you. Of these rules, there was one that you knew best of all, despite never having been told it. Why? Because you have observed it time and time again. After all, the rule revolved around you. To put it plainly… If Cassandra Dimitrescu was in an awful mood, but had yet to draw blood, send in the mute.

Even now, as you rushed down a corridor, you did not know why this rule was in place. You simply knew that you had been summoned countless times by frantic maidens, to go serve their volatile mistress. Admittedly you did understand their eagerness to thrust the task upon someone else. Cassandra was often considered the deadliest of the Dimitrescu daughters, for she was the quickest to anger, the one with the deepest bloodlust, and took the longest to calm down. Personally, you disagreed, believing that it wasn’t terribly hard to know what she did and did not like. All it took was some observation. It was Daniela who scared you, seeing as she was unpredictable. She didn’t even need to be in a bad mood to want to kill you.

Of course, that didn’t necessarily mean that you saw no danger in working with Cassandra. In fact, you saw a fair bit, such as now: Right as you round the corner, a shiny object hurls past your head, embedding itself into the wall. Had you been walking ever so slightly faster… Well, you preferred not to dwell on such things, especially not when the one who threw the thing was still nearby. Based on the howling laughter and swarm of insects that moves around you, the intended target was Lady Daniela. Across the room is the markswoman herself; Cassandra stood tall, huffing in anger, staring at the spot her sister had just vacated from.

“Damn it!” She yelled, stomping her foot as if the resulting shockwave might do what her weapon had not. Oddly amused, you’re quick to remove the sickle from the wall, careful as to not damage it. It’s a tad dirty, but nothing you can’t fix with your handy pocket cloth. Cleaning as you walk, you slowly move towards your employer, not even bothering to spare her a glance. After all, you had your own rules for dealing with her.

(1: Avoid eye contact for at least one minute after an outburst.)

By the time you make it to Cassandra, the minute has come and gone, allowing you to ever-so politely look her in the eyes when you return her blade. She scoffs, then practically rips the sickle from your hands. This was your job, however, so you made no complaints. Not that you could, at least not verbally. Instead, you gave a short bow of acknowledgement. Afterwards you stood still, awaiting either instructions or a dismissal. Neither came.

“I can’t believe that little shit tried to take my favorite dagger and thought she could get away with it! Agh, the nerve of her! Can you believe this?” Cassandra snapped, turning to you as if you might agree with her. Nod, simple yet effective. “At least you know how to handle a blade. Damn Daniela is lucky she didn’t get any scratches on mine.” Then she pulls the knife in question from its place on her belt, letting it gleam in the light. A soft exhale, head tipping to the side, wow is it pretty. So is the one holding it. Your mind wanders but your gaze does not. Always polite, always ready to serve.

(2: Do not get distracted; she is no patient lover, rather a demanding boss.)

“Cassandra! What was all that noise a minute ago?” Someone called, interrupting your ‘conversation’. The speaker soon appears, being none other than Lady Bela, the most reasonable of the castle residents. Though that meant little, considering the nature of her family. As if to prove your point, Cassandra merely rolls her eyes in reply, refusing to divulge the truth. And so Bela turned her gaze to you, perking a brow. “Feeling up to talking today?” She asked, already knowing the answer. Of course, your hands are already moving, not even waiting for her to finish speaking. This is a game you know intimately.

A hand goes to your belt, moving to pull a nonexistent blade from its sheath. Raising it, moving it forward then back several times, launching it towards the wall- towards the hole left behind. Then shifting, waving your hand in front of your face while exhaling a sharp breath. Flinching. An exaggerated gulp, pretending to check if your nose is still attached, sighing in relief. Lastly, an inclination of your head towards the culprit. Cassandra.

“I was aiming for Daniela. Not that it matters, nobody got hurt,” she stated, confident. Both hands clasped together, then tapping the palms together, mimicking a heartbeat at a reasonable pace. Suddenly a stomp. The beating stops, and you hold your hands next to your ear, as if listening for signs of life. Pause. Three seconds. Worried expression, eyes wide. Finally, fast as a gunshot, the heart beats again, wildly. At this, Bela shoots her sister a look of doubt, as well as judgement. Hoping to change the subject, Cassandra looks to you. “What are you doing here anyway?”

Rubbing your chin, thinking. Squinting for effect. Ah, got it! Both hands go to your sides, lifting the imaginary hem of a dress you aren’t wearing. Waltzing forward, yet in place, with the poise expected of a professional maid. Then the focus shifts to your face. Fear. A silent scream, a hand at your forehead, feeling like you… might… faint. Falling backwards, making a step at the very last second to prevent a real collapse. End scene.

“Someone was scared?” Bela asked, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of herself. When you nod, she does as well, considering the implications. “Why would they send you?”

“I hardly care why, I just want to know who so I can kick their ass,” Cassandra interjects, taking a step closer to you. All you do in response is shrug. Unsurprisingly this is not enough to please her, and before you know it she’s wrapped a hand around your throat. “Give. Me. A. Name. Now.” A perked brow. Thoughts practically telegraphed. ‘What do you expect?’ Opening your mouth, slightly, then wide, back to almost closed. No sound comes out. Obviously. It’s not like you wanted to break your own rule, but in this case you had no choice.

(3: Give her whatever she wants, consequences be damned.)

Luckily for you, Bela acts as a foil to Cassandra, there to smooth the seas. Moving behind you, she reaches into your back pocket and retrieves the notepad you keep there. Then she’s handing it to you while making eye contact with her sister. Cassandra promptly releases you, though she’s clearly not pleased, going so far as to push you away in one last act of anger. Internally you roll your eyes. On the outside, however, you quickly write down everything you know… which isn’t much.

“I don’t remember who it was. A lot of people have asked. This happens a lot.” Then you hand the paper to Bela, who soon looks back up at you in confusion. Too antsy to wait for her own turn, Cassandra yoinks the notepad from her sister’s hands, reading it over several times before reacting.

“What the fuck? Why would they send you to me because somebody pissed their pants in fear? I’m going to kill someone. Ugh, I don’t- this doesn’t make any goddamn sense,” Cassandra ranted, pacing back and forth, looking like she wanted to destroy something immediately. To your surprise, Bela doesn’t look the slightest bit concerned. If anything, she looks amused, and smiles when the two of you make eye contact. Something tells you that she knows something that you don’t. Before you can react, she quietly retrieves your notepad and returns it to you. Then she pauses, thinking, eying you with curiosity.

“Why don’t you go for now? See if anyone thanks you for stepping in, hmm?” She suggested, tone implying that this was absolutely about something else entirely. Still, you don’t care to disobey, and so you bid the two of them farewell with a deep bow. As you leave, you can almost make out part of what they say next. But you’re certain that you must have heard incorrectly. “Showing your favoritism a little too much, sister? If even the servants can see it-” the rest of the sentence is cut off by angry muttering from Cassandra. After that you’re too far away to hear anymore. What a strange day...

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

“Hey, you know where Lady Cassandra’s room is, right?” Ygritte asked, casually, definitely not having just been told by someone else that you were the solution to her problem. Pretending that you were unaware of this, you give her a smile and a nod. Later, behind her back, you will mentally add her to your list of people to watch out for. Maybe even decide to refuse to share your biscuits with her. In the meantime, you pretend that you don’t mind whatever task she’s about to dump on you. “Can you bring these books to her? I really have to get back to the kitchen soon, and that’s in the opposite direction…”

Technically true. Something told you that the real problem was that Cassandra had been extra loud the past few days. Regardless, you accept the books from her, leaving before she even finishes thanking you. Why do people do this? I don’t get it, you think. It’s like they think I’m immune to her rage. If that were true, I’d gladly throw myself between her and others. But no, that’s not the case. Hmmph, if only they saw my scars. Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you keep walking, subconsciously rubbing the spot on your arm where Cassandra had cut you. Well, the worst spot. Being pain tolerant had made her take interest in you, during your first few weeks, but it’s what allowed you to learn her rules. Your rules, really.

Knock. Knock. A pause… three more, much softer. The door swings open, revealing your Lady, whose eyes widen at the sight of you. Tipping your hat (which you are not wearing), you greet her, forcing another smile. Then you present the books, free hand gesturing with a spiral motion towards them. She doesn’t respond. No, wait, she glances at the door hinges, considering closing the door in your face. Now both of you are staring at each other, daring the other to move.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she finally said. There’s a gruffness to her voice that you hadn’t expected. It’s unlike her usual tone, less angry, more tired. Were those bags under her eyes?... No, just smudged makeup. “Don’t just stand there- tell me why you’re here.” Again, you gesture to the books, extending your hands further towards her. This time she takes a half-step backwards to avoid you. Peculiar. “Someone else was supposed to bring them, dipshit. Fucking hell, why can’t anyone around here do their damn jobs?” At last, she takes the books from you, carrying them deeper into your room. Though she does not close the door, you assume that your job is done. Or maybe you simply do not wish to deal with a Cassandra who’s frustrated by your specific presence. Either way, it breaks one of your rules, though you do not remember until it is too late.

(4: Do not leave until dismissed by a member of the family.)

“Where the hell are you going?” The sound of buzzing flies, a blur of motion around you, then the form of Cassandra solidifying in front of you. One of her hands is raised, pressing against the center of your chest. She pushes you, hard, making you stumble backwards into her room. Next thing you know you’ve crashed onto her floor. A tad stunned, you bring a hand up to hold your head, blinking rapidly for a few seconds. There’s the sound of a door closing, and then someone’s trying to help you stand. “I didn’t say you could leave yet. Now c’mon, I’ve got stuff for you to do.” Then she’s guiding you to her bed, making you sit down on the end. Panicked thoughts race through your mind one after another. What exactly was she intending? Thankfully you don’t have to wait long to find out. “Read through these, and-” a pause, like she hadn’t known what she was going to say until she was already speaking- “take notes. Make a summary of the bookmarked sections, or whatever.” Handing you a couple books (neither of which being ones you had just brought to her), she sits on the other side of the bed, refusing to look at you. She does, however, say one last thing, voice barely above a whisper. “Just stay for a while, okay?”

Inside your head, you make a mental note to amend your list of rules.

(4.b: Do not leave until dismissed by a member of the family. If Cassandra asks you to stay, you stay, no matter what. It’s worth it.)

[darkacademicfrom2021]

It’s very ambiguous

Pairing: Loki x reader (gender neutral)

Summary: You have finally come to age; your soulmate mark draws itself in your skin. You can't figure out who it connects you with, but, oh dear, you can only hope and wish it is to him. But Loki won't make it easy for you to find out. Will you both overcome the pride and fear that would involve your love?

Word count: 4.6 K

Warnings: a bit of angst. (English is not my mother tongue and it’s my first time writing fanfiction in english, so forgive me if there’s any errors, and feel free to correct them!)

Sighing at your reflection, you stared for the Norns know how long to the fresh image that drew itself in the side of your abdomen.

You thanked it was easy to hide; saving you endless mockery from your friends if they saw that. The vivid portrayal of who you loved the most, in the most ambiguous drawing you could’ve ever gotten. How ironic.

What the Heavens would that mean, you asked yourself at least five times until the impatient knocking on the bathroom door pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Hurry up, we’re late”, said Sif. You knew she was already all dressed up for the Ball, and she would kill you, seeing you were still on your robes. You opened the bathroom door slowly, with burrowed frows. You couldn’t hide it, as much as you tried to. “Oh, for God’s sa…” she started complaining, but stopped as soon as she realized you were in a terrible state of mind.

“I got it”, you explained after she made you get out of the bathroom and sat you on the edge of the bed. “I got the mark. Impossible to guess”.

“Don’t worry about it, you’ll know who they is when the time is right”, said she, comforting you and eyeing the outfit you’d chosen earlier. “But crytime is over. Guess what time it is now. Yes, you guessed right. The Ball”.

The last thing you wanted to do in that moment was to dance; or to stay in a chair drinking wine the entirety of the night, for that matter. You didn’t need another reminder of your frustrated attempts at making him notice you. And you knew he wasn’t the one (if he were your soulmate, it would’ve already happened years; no, decades ago). But you still couldn’t help but falling in love at every little smirk, every little comment, every little thing he did. Dear, you were lost, completely gone in love.

That’s why you knew you wouldn’t find your soulmate for a long, long time. At least not until your crush for Loki had finally gone away.

“I’d rather stay”, you stated, and she rolled her eyes.

“Well, I want to go, and I can’t go alone. Please, at least do it for me”.

“Why would you want to go? Ever since we’re on age of being asked to dance, we have only gotten invitations from… well, anyone except them. And in the Balls we can’t even be their friends”.

“We can be friends, if they talk to us first we can talk back”.

“Yeah, we could, but they don’t talk first. They never do”.

Both of you were completely lost for the princes. But, unlike you, Sif had a chance with Thor. She was graceful, divine, a wonderful woman; a whole Goddess, an amazing warrior. There was no question Thor would sooner or later find love in her friend. But you… why would a prince like Loki lay his eyes on you? Romantically, he never showed a single trace of interest in anyone, much less someone in his friendgroup. You were the closest to him, yet he never said a thing.

He probably knew you drooled over him. He must have noticed how you looked at him in the library when he read to you, how you always defended him from everyone else’s mockery, how you intentionally pretended like you didn’t know any better in spells so that he could help you out. How your heartbeat raced when he fell asleep on your lap. He must have noticed, yet he said nothing.

She finally managed to convince you to go, with the condition that if you weren’t asked to dance at all, or even talk, you’d go back to your manor early.

You got in your best clothes, and undressing the best attitude possible, you both arrived at the palace and entered the ballroom as quick as your feet let you. The ambient was marvelous. Subtle lighting, most of them by candles. The golden details that characterized Asgard so well were everywhere. Both King and Queen were sat in their thrones, waiting patiently for the rest of the royal family to arrive before giving the annual speech and getting the party started.

“Do you think they’re not coming?” asked Sif as you got comfortable in your seats, eyeing the entrances.

“They can’t miss it, they’re sort of the hosts”, you said, “but… well, I don’t know. The other day after training, Thor mentioned something about this year being particularly difficult for them”, you added in such a low whisper that Sif had to pull closer.

“What did he say? He didn’t mention anything to me”, she whispered back. You two looked like you were merely gossiping, if it weren’t for the lack of giggling that would usually follow.

“He said… he said something along the lines of ‘we’re expected so much more than before in these dances, they’re more than just for fun now’, and, Sif, I think he meant…”, but she abruptly interrupted you.

“Courting? Oh, for the Norns, they’re not expected to choose a partner now, so soon, aren’t they?”.

“Soon? Sif, they’re already at each other’s throats for who’s becoming King, and they have been for a while”.

“They’re not exactly competing, anyways. You don’t have to worry about this. It’s not like Loki’s the one winning” said she, earning a subtle kick in the leg. “Auch!”.

“Would you stop being so hard on him?”.

“You know I’m right!”. 

“You know it hurts him. If you think so, at least keep it to yourself, Sif”.

You could’ve kept lecturing her if it weren’t for the sarcastic clapping of the Queen upon seeing the arrival of her sons. You read the ‘you’re late!’ on her lips and the apologetic looks on their faces. But nothing of that distracted you from admiring how marvelous Loki could get sometimes. Just when you thought he couldn't look any better, he outdid himself. You let out a sigh and Sif laughed.

“You’re staring”.

“And rightfully so. Look at him”.

But no matter how much you looked at him for the whole evening, you couldn’t get even a gaze from him. He didn’t even eyed you from the distance. You would’ve even gotten actually mad at him if it weren’t for the fact that he wasn’t looking anywhere. He didn’t seem like he was avoiding you; he was actively staring at the floor, with the saddest look on his face. And Thor looked pissed off.

“There’s a story in there and I will ask for as many details as possible once Loki spills the beans to you”, said Sif, elbowing you.

“I don’t think he will. Look, it looks like more than a fight. He looks so upset”.

You could only wish you were brave enough to break the stupid rule of the royals approach first so you could take his hand tightly and comfort him in whatever he was going through. As you always did. As he always let you.

The music played for three hours. Everyone was on their feet, dancing away, drinking away and chatting away, as one should in a Ball dance. Everyone except you and certain dark prince you didn’t even bother staring at anymore. You gave up looking for his attention an hour after the dance properly started, and it did nothing good to your pride to have been trying for that long anyways.

Sif got her chance, of course. Thor took his time, but after long he gave up with whatever quarrel he was having with his brother and approached her decisively. You were past pissed. Disappointed. After another sip of your wine, you couldn’t resist and stole a glance to Loki’s seat. To your surprise, you met his gaze. The God of Mischief was staring at you, and he apparently has been for Gods know how long. He quickly dropped his head and went back to looking at the floor, now with a completely red face.

You soon realized he was even more upset than before, as he watched Thor and Sif dance. And then you understood. Everything fell into place. Of course. Of course he liked Sif. Who wouldn’t. That’s why he fought with Thor. That’s why he was so worked up. You didn’t even need to read his mind to confirm it. 

You waited, still holding your eyes on him. You waited for another half an hour, but your patience was already on thin ice and he didn’t look like he would do anything more, anyways. So you did what you should’ve done hours ago. You got up and left.

“No, brother, you can go, I’ll let Mother know I’m staying”, said Loki from his room.

He could hear Thor’s patience shatter in pieces from the other side of the door.

“Don’t be ridiculous, we can’t miss the Ball. Father will kill you”.

“It’s not my problem”.

“I think it is quite your problem, brother”. Loki sighed. He wasn’t in the mood for his mockery. Thor sensed it and lowered his tone of voice, insisting. “Tell me what it is, Loki. I promise I’ll try to help out”.

But he only scoffed and locked the door, to start pacing around the room, feeding his anxiety even more. He covered his arm with his palm and tried his best to make it go away. It’s just an accidental illusion. I’m making it out of nervousness. I need to make it go away, he kept saying under his breath. But it didn’t go away. It wasn’t an illusion.

“Oh, FOR THE NINE REALMS”, he kicked his chair as a sudden burst of anger ate him alive.

“Loki, let me in!”, insisted Thor. “I’m going in”.

“You can’t help me”.

“I might, if you just tell me what is it. You love the dances. Come on”.

“I do love dances, Thor, I’m not particularly fond of the weight this one has on us; not this year” he growled from the floor, knees on his chest. “Not with what I had planned, I can’t do it now” he whispered. Thor pretended like he didn’t listen to that last bit.

Loki had been circling around the idea of asking you to dance for the last few months. It was all he wanted; to caress your hand and gently hold you by the waist, to move at the pace of the music, to feel your heart on his chest, his rising heartbeat with every breath you took. He wanted you, and if that wasn’t possible (and he was sure it wasn’t) he wanted to dance with you all night long.

But now, he would have to court you and marry you if he did. And, of course, it was what he wanted. It was definitely all he wanted. But he knew you wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t risk your beautiful friendship over anything in the world. What if he lost you forever? He could never bring himself to lose you, in any form or way.

“Brother, let me in. Or get out of the room. We’re late”.

“You’re late, Thor. Must I repeat myself? I’m not going”.

“I’m kicking the door”.

Loki sighed, and waited to hear Thor’s intense footsteps get closer and closer to the door to open it just in time and see him land on his face. Thor got up off the floor with blood on his nose.

“It combines with your crimson cape, brother, no need to worry” said Loki mockingly.

But Thor paid little attention to his silvertongue. Instead, his eyes were fixed on his arm. Then, he understood exactly why he was acting so terrified. Loki covered his arm as soon as he realized, mortified, but it was now too late and Thor had already seen it.

“Do you need any other reason to invite them to dance with you?”, he said with a grin of pride.

“It's not them. I’m certain”.

“How are you so certain? It’s such an ambiguous drawing, and you haven’t seen theirs!”.

“They doesn’t even have a soulmate mark yet. They told me the other day”.

“You didn’t have one at that time either, it must have changed. Come on”.

Loki sighed and put on a long sleeved outfit, while letting Thor rant about how much he was sure you’d reciprocate his feelings. And Loki couldn’t say anything against it, because it would only bring ruin to everyone; to spill the obvious secret that haunted him everyday.

The fact that you lusted over Thor.

And it hurted him like anything else, because he knew even though you didn’t say anything. He knew he was the lesser prince. The one that gets looked over. The shadow in his brother’s spotlight. The always-prince, never-King. It hurted like Hell.

But there was nothing he could do about it. And now he had a mark that linked him to the Norns know who, but he only had eyes for you.

Because you were always there. You were the one to defend him against his own insecurities, and everyone else’s accusations. The one to laugh the loudest at his jokes, the one to hold him the tightest when you were in fear, the one to call him first to anything. And you were perfect. But you, for obvious reasons, didn’t think the same of him. You thought the world of him, but not in the way he wished.

And he wouldn’t even get to see you happy from someone else’s love, because his brother didn’t even have eyes for you. The idiot of Thor could not see your brightness, and Loki wondered how could anyone not fall in love with you.

“You need to try, Loki, you’ll never know if you don’t risk a little”.

“A little? To you this is a little? Do you have any idea what would happen to me if I lost them forever? If the person that I love the most leaves me because I just decided to stop hiding my feelings?”, yelled Loki, completely angered.

“Ah, there it is. If I decided to stop hiding my feelings”, repeated Thor, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

“What is that supposed to mean?!”.

“You are afraid; so incredibly afraid of letting anyone know you fully. That is your problem, Loki. They’ll accept you no matter what, because they already know you. You think you’re hiding, well, you’re not so good with this little lie of yours”, said finally Thor, tired of biting his tongue about it.

“You know nothing about their feelings”.

“I know enough”.

“Believe me, you don’t. And you don’t get to say a word about my love life, or anything about this situation, for that matter. You don’t get to make light of my situation, as you do with everything regarding me. Now, leave. Me. Alone”.

They continued fighting about it until one of their tutors had enough of their unpunctuality and came to look for them. Both entered the ballroom still highly upset at each other and said nothing about it all night. Frigga knew exactly what they were talking about, and didn’t make too much of a fuss about the delay in their arrival.

Loki tried to not look at you in the entirety of the night; avoided all the eye contact he could with anyone, specially you. He was too afraid you’d choose that exact time to practice your special abilities at mind reading (since you’ve done this at previous dances, when Loki didn’t approach you), and if he didn’t see you, you couldn’t do it. Because if you dared reading his mind you’d only find yourself. And in those little moments he got to glance at you, while you were distracted with something else, he sank in sadness, because all he wanted was to embrace you and dance with you. You looked as fantastic as you always were and more. You looked especially excellent. And it didn’t go unnoticed to him that you looked annoyed. From the eye-sided glances he got to steal from you, he saw you staring at the seat he and his brother were in. You were expectant. You wanted to be taken out to dance. And Loki’s suspicions about your crush on Thor only got reassured when he asked Sif for a dance and you looked the most annoyed you’d ever looked in ages.

You left the dance early. After about ten minutes Loki decided to go after you. Outside of the ballroom you could still be a friend; that was the whole point of swallowing his feelings. He wandered the palace until he heard fireballs collapsing against the huge walls of your typical training spot, but he lingered his entrance to observe you in an incredibly angry state of your magic.

“You’ll set the palace on fire” said a gut-wrenching familiar voice. Of course Thor was there. Of course Thor would get earlier to comfort you in something that he destroyed.

“Then so be it”, you answered with a crack in your voice. Loki didn’t mean to invade your privacy, but he couldn’t help himself but to listen.

“I know why you’re upset. Believe me, it upsets me too”.

“You have no idea what upsets me”, you answered, and Thor chuckled. Loki could sense that Thor was thinking about how similar you and Loki were. You threw another fireball against the wall.

“Let me guess”.

“Enlighten me, your majesty”.

“You didn’t get to dance with the man you like”.

“You know nothing about the man I like”.

“When will you all stop treating me as if I were blind? Come on, why won’t you tell me? I’m your friend. I know you’re burning up in love and you still think you don’t have a chance because… because what? Because he’s the prince of Asgard?” said Thor. You stopped your magic and stared at him with teary eyes.

“Because the prince of Asgard I love, is in love with Sif. And there’s nothing I can do about it” you answered. Loki’s heart broke. Hearing you admit your raw feelings to Thor that way, and Thor not even understanding you were talking about him.

“What makes you think he’s in love with Sif?!” insisted, still clueless.

But Loki didn’t need to hear any more of that. He ran through the halls of the palace until he got to lock himself in his room.

“What makes you think he’s in love with Sif?!”, Thor asked, and you scoffed. You lowered your gaze to the floor, trying to make the tears go unnoticed. They didn’t, and Thor hugged you tightly.

Thor was almost like a brother to you. You grew up together, but it was more than that. You were always for each other. He never had to ask about your love for Loki, he always knew. And you never had to ask about his crush in Sif; it was transparent. So you both supported each other. You didn’t even bother telling him how she felt about him, it was bound to happen. Now, you and Loki, on the other hand…

“He is, you can’t deny it”.

“I’m denying it, I assure you”. You wiped your tears away and touched your mark over your clothes. He smiled. “You got the mark, didn’t you?”.

“Yeah”.

“What is it?”.

“Ugh, it doesn’t matter. Maybe I should just forget him and start looking for my soulmate. If the mark showed up today, then it must be for something. There has to be a reason”. Thor nodded, still smiling. “What are you so happy about, dumbass? My heart’s broken".

“Nothing. You keep on looking. Can I see it?”, said he, patting your back.

“It’s too ambiguous, you won’t guess it”.

“So I expected”.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Do you know anything?”.

“Nothing whatsoever”.

You got in your fighting position. Loki bent down in his seat, focusing on the next fight. He was sure you’d win; he has been teaching you new moves and you completely mastered them. And your rival didn’t know any better, anyways.

One kick from your opponent; you avoided it and threw a punch. Another kick. Another punch. The rival grabbed your leg, making you lose your balance and almost fall down, but you used that impulse to push him away and get him to the ground. He got up and started using magic. A blue light shone around him and started getting closer to your feet. You closed your eyes and focused intensely; soon, water drops started emerging from the tips of your fingers. They quickly transformed into a stream of water that wrapped your opponent from head to toes, making his electricity magic attack him, instead of you. Loki smiled.

Your rival pushed further his strength and one of the electrified waterjets hit your leg. You fell to the ground with a scream. It hurted, a lot. Loki gasped and Thor had to grab his shoulder to remind him it was just a training fight. For his tranquility, you got up on your feet soon and started using your magic again.

An aura of sparks and wind formed around you while you closed your fists, extremely concentrated. Your opponent waited without attacking, but behind the shield of his armour. Loki saw Thor smile proudly; this was the part he taught you. For your fire side of your powers, Thor was the one to train you thoroughly. Loki sighed, frustrated because you haven’t yet shown what Loki had taught you with such enthusiasm. He still observed you with attention.

“This part is awesome, look, brother”, whispered Thor in his ear, which only made him angrier.

“I’m sure it is. They is awesome. And wait until you see what I taught them”. Thor chuckled.

“No need for jealousy, Loki. They’s all yours”. Loki rolled his eyes and directed his attention to the fight again.

The sparks and wind grew bigger and bigger around you, circling your whole body. Once the sparks became fire, you directed your whole energy to your opponent, sending him against the wall. If it weren’t for the gigant fire-proof shield, he would’ve gotten completely roasted.

You put your guard down, and as you did so, the wind and fire around you dispersed. Loki got to see you again once the magic flew down, and realized you had your clothes slightly lifted up. He tried not to look out of respect, but Thor gasped, and that drew his attention directly to what surprised his brother. And it did not disappoint. Loki’s chest got as tight as it has ever been. His breathing became irregular and unsteady, and his face got completely red. You didn’t notice your shirt had lifted up, so you didn’t realize what was going on. You got closer to your defeated rival and shaked his hand.

“You win. I see you’ve been well trained”, he said.

“I have”, you answered, and directed your gaze to the princes who were watching the fight. You walked closer to them to chatter, as you always did, but Loki got up fast and ran out of the training room. Thor told you to follow him, and Loki heard your footsteps behind him for the entirety of the hall, until you two got to the gardens.

Loki was shaking. He didn’t want you to be there. He didn’t want you to see him that vulnerable. And you knew it, so you didn’t get closer than two meters apart.

“Loki”, you said after a while, behind his back. “What’s wrong?”.

He turned around, face still red. He was usually cold, but at that moment he was burning up inside and out. Maybe he was burning out of love for you. Maybe out of anger, for being so pessimistic and making himself a martyr when his brother was clearly right. Maybe out of rage to himself, for waiting so long to make a move and losing so much time lost in his own head. But you were still standing there, concerned. And he had to say something, because you still didn’t know anything.

“I saw your mark”, he stated. Now you were the one with the red face.

“Oh… I, I don’t, uh…”, you stuttered, and he got closer to you. He grabbed both of your hands and you looked at him in the eyes, clueless. “I try not to give it that much attention”.

“Why?”, he asked. “It’s your soulmate. The person you’ll love the most”.

“I already love someone” you said, in a burst of confidence. Loki swallowed in nervousness. Your hands started to get sweaty. “I… ugh. Sorry. I don’t want to say…”.

“Who? Tell me, I’m your best friend”.

“I don’t want you to be”, you finally said. “It’s you, Loki. It’s always been you. I don’t care about this stupid soulmate mark, because I know I’m in love with you and I always have been”.

Loki stayed silent, which only made your anxiety increase. He finally looked at you in the eyes and formed a subtle smile.

“I thought you loved Thor”.

“What? Why would I…?”.

“I heard you after the Ball; you said the prince you love was in love with Sif”.

“Yeah, you”.

“I’m… what? I’m not… I’m not in love with Sif, darling”.

Your heart stirred, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the pet name he just gave you, or the fact that you got it all wrong. He wasn’t in love with Sif?

“I’m sorry, did we both think…?”.

“We’re idiots, apparently”.

You both laughed. That was it; that cotidianity, that normality that felt, even in the most embarrassing and intense moments, completely fine. Because you were, before anything, friends.

You hugged him. He returned the hug and caressed your neck and back with one hand. You felt his heartbeat rise, and from that position, he whispered in your ear with that beautifully deep and raspy voice; “I saw your mark”.

“I don’t care about it. I don’t want to ruin our friendship, ignore my feelings if necessary. But my heart only beats for you”, you whispered back. He sank his nose on the crook of your neck and felt his mouth form a smile against your skin. You shivered and felt warmth in your stomach.

“I don’t want to ignore your feelings”.

“I love you”, you said once again, regretting it in that instant. You couldn't stop your words from falling out of your mouth. You felt like you sounded desperate.

“I love you too, my dear”.

You, in shock, looked at him in the eyes. He kept smiling, and putting a strand of your hair behind an ear, placed a small kiss on your red cheek.

“I don’t know what to do next. I like being your friend”, you said. “And I don’t think we’re meant to be. I got a mark, and you haven’t, so it’s obvious we won’t end up together anyways. And I want you by my side for all my life; even if it’s just as a friend, you know? I don’t want to lose you”. Loki chuckled at your rant. “What?”.

“What makes you think I didn’t get my mark yet?”.

“Well, I… I don’t know. Did you?”.

“Yes”.

“What does it look like?”.

He smiled.

“It’s very ambiguous”, said he, sarcastically.

“Hard to guess, is it?” you chuckled, realizing what was going on. Loki lifted his sleeve, uncovering an identical soulmate mark to yours.

“Hard to guess, yet so obvious”, he said. He grabbed your waist and neck and both melted in a long, desired kiss. You sank your fingers in his hair, caressing his scalp. “Yours?”

“It’s very ambiguous too, you know?”.

[pynkhues]

hi :) love-love-loved your insight into king lear & succession. i was wondering what you meant when you said you have your own theories for why logan loves kendall the most? I think it’s true he’s number one - even though logan likes to dangle that particular carrot in front of kendall a lot

(x)

Hi! Thank you so much! It's such a fun thing to really look at King Lear in the context of Succession, because so much of it is there in the show, while a lot of it is far more of a thematic adaptation than a direct one. It makes it really rich to unpick. I'm thinking of re-reading it actually once the season's over, especially since I'll probably be in a Shakespearean mood as I'm seeing a production of The Comedy of Errors in mid-December, so I might do a proper comparison then!

And yeah, I think Logan does love Kendall the most out of all of his children, although I do think Logan really does love all four of them, it's just a fractious, violent, broken love that's never really what any of them want or need.

Like I mentioned in my other post, my theory is pretty unfounded, haha, and it really is just a theory, so I'm not putting it fourth as anything beyond that, but the long and the short of it is that I think Logan and Ewan's sister, Rose, died by suicide, and that Logan sees her in Kendall.

Nothing of the sort has ever been explicitly stated, but we do know that Logan blames himself for Rose's death, and he's more protective of Kendall, particularly at his lowest, than he is of anyone else on the show.

(More + screencaps below the cut)

Rose is first mentioned in 2.08 where Logan returns to Dundee for his tribute. He circles around old haunts that seem to draw up memories he doesn't have much desire to entertain, and it builds to this set up where Roman tells Shiv they should get Kendall to get Rhea (amazing bit of Roman and Shiv using Kendall to get what they want, haha) to bring up Rose in a speech.

Logan's visibly upset by it, and it's something that's reiterated at the end of the episode where Ewan tells Logan that it's not his fault that Rose died:

Interestingly, for reasons I'll talk about shortly, this episode also brings into play the fact that Connor's mother had mental health issues herself and was likely institutionalised:

Rose actually hasn't been mentioned again until the last episode, where Logan, during his piss-madness, wanted to protect her:

Logan's not a man who frequently airs regrets or concerns for other people, but he does for Rose, and y'know - - he does for Kendall too:

And especially in 2.04 after the gunshot goes off, where he expresses that again:

And again:

And again:

It's all in the same episode where Kendall spends A Lot of time looking over the roof of Waystar and the show makes a point of Logan protecting him from the punishment of his shoplifting, and Shiv specifically asking 'why's he protecting you?' and Kendall not being able to answer (sorry, I'd share more screencaps, but tumblr's cut me off, haha).

To me, all of these scenes are in conversation with each other, along with Roman saying Kendall will self-destruct, and Logan telling Kendall to his face that he's the thing he loves the most, and the only thing he could kill that would make the sun rise again.

We've got no timeline for Rose's death, but I tend to think she passed away when Logan was in his early twenties, and that his relationship with Connor's mother was partially entwined with that – that he was drawn to her, maybe, because of her own mental health struggles. From what Alan Ruck has said, it sounds like Logan and Connor's mother were only 25 or so when they had him, so that to me sort of adds to this - - I don't know - - grief-struck courtship which repeated certain patterns, only for Logan to see those patterns all over again in Kendall.

There are other factors at play, of course. I think Kendall concedes more than his siblings do, and play the game Logan wants him to the most. Gosh, even now, with Kendall trying to take Logan out, it's really what the guy wanted. It's a knife fight in the mud, like he says in 3.01, but personally, I think there's an added layer to it when it comes to Logan and Kendall, and I think that's tied to the fact that Logan knows Kendall's vulnerable, and that he has experience as to where that vulnerability can lead.

[romanoffsbish]

Hey there!! For the “Get To Know Your Writer” questions, could I ask 14, 15, 26, 35, 43, & 55? Please and thankssssss!

14. how do you write emotional scenes? Do you ever feel what the characters feel? Do you draw from personal experiences?

I try to put myself in their shoes if it’s a request, but usually I draw from personal experiences/hopes.

15. How do you write smut scenes? Do you get very visual or detailed? How important is it to be realistic?

I have to be in a very specific mood, so if I have WIPS with smut, I’ll save that bit for last, and when I have those horny thots I’ll run to write the smut portions.

Very, I find it hard to read fics if they’re not within the realm of realism. Like, cool idea, but that’s just inhuman to bend like that lol. Unless you got an Elastigirl!Reader, then we need to discuss logic 😂

26. Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

Everything Comes at a Cost; This had so many different relationships to explore, coupled with navigating grief, fight sequences, smut, and differing perspectives in past situations. It was a personal passion project, and I think it’s my favorite fic that I’ve honestly ever written.

The Wanda one I’m currently writing: “Never Yours (Always Mine) as it sort of draws from a personal perspective of a recent happening in my life.

35. What is one essential thing to remember when writing a villain? 

Hmm… I’ve yet to actually write an enemies to lover fic, but I have written a few villians, and I guess it’s to always remember that their humanity is askew. That way I don’t start humanizing them, and earning them any sort of sympathy. Like, I’d hate to portray Dreykov as anything other than a monster, 😳.

43. Do you take a sadistic joy in whumping your characters, or are you more the "If you hurt them I would kill everyone and then myself" kind of person?

It depends on my mood to be honest, and also the character. I’ve never killed off any of the main focuses except for Natty on Vormir, but even then it was to be with the R in the afterlife, so it was a bittersweet moment. I love the women too much to off them, so it’s either R who dies, or characters I don’t like. I love killing off Steve, he bothers me a lot in the movies, and therefore is the easiest to kill.

55. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

For romantic relationships, it’s Natasha (or WandaNat), but in general it’s Yelena. Sarcasm is my specialty, and I just really love writing for her.

Not necessarily, I do know that my Nat/WandaNat’s do the best of all the characters I write for, but that doesn’t make a difference. I’ve always just been into Natty the most.

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

@lunahorizon replied to your post “@lunahorizon replied to your post “They may call on God to help them win the war -- or on the Goddess to help the Goddess win...”

i take a lot of things literally too, and it hurts to apply them to myself. also i think i understand what you mean about responding to things as a threat. but i think that may be related to mood, much like how you or i would respond to things differently depending on mood. i specifically like that the quote seems to be open-ended. it could be a threat, but it could also be a somber reference to how people go through difficult situations and end up hurting each other.

Yeah, I think there's definitely some degree of mood. (I have been reading a lot of Lovecraft lately for reasons I don't really want to get into, and one thing Lovecraft really likes doing is drawing a connection between something horrible happening to people (e.g. being killed/attacked by strange creatures) and an aspect of cosmic horror -- e.g. we are being visited by the gods, but they are just cosmic abominations who want us dead for the sake of being killed and the experience of seeing us die, etc.)

I think I get this response from Lovecraft too? It's like he wants people to be afraid of some monstrous cosmic stuff, but also to feel like maybe it's not so bad -- it's kind of like the mood that I get from my father, who is a doctor and has said that many people he treats who are depressed have some very unseemly views about the things in the brain that cause the depression, but that they have this view because of "unseemly" ideas that they themselves hold, not because they actually have bad brains. (At least, this is how he'd say things in his more cynical periods, when we'd watch the news together and I'd ask "Dad, are you saying that people with depression are stupid?")

It can certainly be a relief to find this sort of cosmic evil isn't the whole of the universe, because it's easier to respond in a certain way than if it were true, and because you can look to the cosmic evil and feel oh, look, I'm still human

[aparticularbandit]

the problem with - and i’m returning to how does eve smell despite having already decided and written this into the fic and not planning on changing it - the problem with how does eve fletcher smell is that, despite me wanting to make references to things (which is what i did and what i still like) and also wanting it to be something that meshes well with how i describe agatha’s scent (cinnamon, vanilla, apples - specifically like a warm apple pie right out of the oven with a dollop of ice cream on the side)--

outside of wanting references and something that meshes well with agatha, my instinct is to give her a much more floral scent.  like lavender (which would not go well, considering agatha/agnes’s commentary on it in wandavision, so not lavender) or ... oh i don’t use floral scents and my brain is blanking on me ... roses (which i won’t do because rose, who actually...did not smell like roses, rose was...rose was lavender and vanilla?  i think?  because i intentionally wanted to avoid strawberries because i knew that was what other people pulled on - rose was lavender vanilla and luisa was cinnamon honey - luisa was soapapillas, which is an entirely different scent than apple pie, although both have that fried contextual to their scent, and evanora ended up being roses and olives, i think, which is...partly drawing on carrie, right, because when carrie’s mom waited to kill her after prom, her mouth tasted of olives, and the more senile evanora gets, the more she smells like olives instead of roses (i gave evanora a rose garden, i remember, she has a rose garden outside of her house and agatha is still dealing with her house because hers with cian is an entirely separate thing, i should address that at some point, is she going to sell it, she and eve can discuss that later - i don’t know that that’s date material, but eve checking in on how she’s doing with evanora’s death, it could come up, because agatha won’t avoid talking about that the way she’ll avoid talking about cian)--

my mind instinctively pulls for a floral scent for eve, but if i went with a floral scent, it would be something sweet and almost childish, like dandelions or honeysuckle, and dandelions can be turned into wine (which agatha would like and would convey the same thing i currently have part of her scent doing) and honeysuckle you can pick the flower directly off and drink straight from it this sweet juice that collects within (friends and i used to do this when we were very small - elementary school, first grade or younger, because there were honeysuckle along one of the playgrounds - the better playground, i remember - and we would go and pluck honeysuckle and drink) - and that, as a scent, would fit better, i think, with eve and mesh well with agatha, too, in a weird sort of way (not as good as what it is now)--

but - and here is my justification for myself why i’m not changing what i have to something else - eve works at the senior center, and she’s used to being around seniors, smelling like them, having that drift and cover whatever she’s been using, and a lot of - at least, in my mind, and this isn’t necessarily true - but i feel like a lot of them would use certain floral scents, and eventually eve, wanting so much to not smell like the senior center, not because she hates it but because there is a certain scent to those sorts of places (and the book brings this up in the last third that they didn’t put into the show, how she could lift her collar and smell the scent of her that wafts up, and it’s the senior center, and how that could so easily kill a mood - among other things that may have gone wrong that day (in that case, it was a flooding toilet that made her smell also like literal shit, and by the time she’d gone back and showered and gotten the scent off, the moment had passed - and, yes, the next eve/agatha bit does at least reference and deal with that, the need to scrub the senior center off and replace that scent with something else, which is why i was even trying to place her scent in the first place))--

this is a long rambling thought process, bandit, who wants to read this shit, this is brain flow, this is patterns and discussion, this is jumping from one point to the next to the next to the next--

eve spends so much time smelling all of the floral scents at the senior center that when she realizes that her own bath soap or whatever causes that makes her smell as though she easily fits in with them even on days that she hasn’t been there, she changes it to something she thinks none of them would use.  (and she’s not necessarily right, but i could easily see that prompting a change at some point, although i cannot pinpoint just when).  so if i wrote something with a much younger eve, i think dandelions and honeysuckle are the way to go - and that fits a bit, too, i think with the image of eve as a pure mother and then it would be connecting her to earth as a mother and also connect her to innocence because dandelions and honeysuckle are such childhood things, to me, because, other than the honeysuckle discussion above, dandelions, you pick them and you blow the seeds and you make a wish, and eve wishes so hard with her entire being and believes in that wish even when it doesn’t land the way it would, and i think even as an adult, eve does that sometimes, plucks a dandelion and blows and watches the seeds go, and there’s nostalgia and longing and a hint of regret in that, but there’s still maybe that bit of childish wonder in it, too, but she also thinks of brendan doing it, and maybe that’s where the longing for a past time comes in because that would have been when ted was around, and maybe that’s where a bit of regret comes in, too, and she so misses him as a child--

but eve is also the person who would look up and wish on the first star she sees, still, and if she learned about making a wish at 11:11, she would probably do that, too, or when you hold your breath over a bridge - if you make it, you can make a wish - and she wouldn’t always remember, maybe, but she’d have moments of oh! and remember and do them, and she’d smile and feel content, and agatha would look at her with such fondness, because agatha spent so much of her life wishing for something that is not quite as pure or innocent as eve does - eve longs for such simple things that are so often beyond our grasp, and agatha wishes for more time, more time, always more time, especially now, especially after cian, because she knows what it’s like to have and to lose in a way that eve, still angry and bitter and unforgiving towards ted’s betrayal, doesn’t, it’s a different sort of loss, cian vs. ted, and--

what i mean to say is eve’s scent isn’t floral and it isn’t dandelions and honeysuckle, although it should be, because eve has always been capable of taking her life into her hands and making changes, even subtle ones, to make herself seem more...more, so much more than just brendan’s mom or the head of the senior center or whatever she was doing at the senior center but people have to be close to notice that sort of thing, that change in scent, and likely the only person who noticed it was ted, coming to pick up brendan for the weekend, being close enough that eve was slightly uncomfortable (possibly to kiss her cheek, when they were still more familiar, until she told him to stop), and just noticing and asking if it was because of him, when it absolutely was not, and telling her he liked it, and then she felt like she wanted to change it again because of him, but the thing of it is that ted has to have liked things about her initially, has to have liked her initially, and she can’t completely craft herself into a new person and scrub herself raw and bleeding just to get rid of everything about herself that he might have liked--

and what i really mean to say is that things change over time, and it is okay for things to change over time, and i have already made the decision, and i’m justifying it to myself, and maybe, someday, eve will get to return to dandelions and honeysuckle without feeling like it makes her smell like an old, dying woman.

[lettersinscarlet]

Notes (Obey Me! Lucifer Imagine)

What’s up guys? It’s me again! See, I promise, I’m slowly resuscitating my blog. Apparently, it just takes me forever to write, so that’s fun. But anyway, I am here to deliver an imagineto you! My requests are open, and I have a whole list of different fandoms and characters I write for, so feel free to drop a request in and I will get to it! It’s just I’m a little slower now when it comes to writing. Hope you enjoy this one!

———————————————————————

You were walking down the halls of the House of Lamentation, just heading back to your room after classes. Your teachers had given you a ton of work to do, and you figured that if you started now, you might be able to finish it all before you passed out from exhaustion. But if you’re being honest, you might do a few assignments and then procrastinate and turn the rest of them in late or make an excuse as to why you couldn’t do them. Maybe Diavolo would take pity on you and give you a pass or something.

As you walked by, you passed the door to Lucifer’s office. You stopped outside, wondering if he was in there. You didn’t want to disturb him if he was working, but you just wanted to check up on him. You heard some soft music playing, which was just a little sign to you that he was in there. You sighed, hesitating outside the door, before you just shook your head and walked away from the place.

Honestly, you really felt bad for Lucifer. He was always in his office, almost like he was trapped in there because of the paperwork. You knew he never left, because when you would sneak down for a midnight snack from the kitchen or to get some water, you could hear that soft music playing from behind the door. He just had to be exhausted, working that late into the night without a lot of sleep, rarely taking breaks often. You could appreciate his work ethic, but you knew that was also one of his flaws, that he really would just work too hard.

With Lucifer always in his office, that also meant that you didn’t get to spend as much time with him as you wanted. You’d actually gone to hang out in his office, and those times were great. It was easier to talk to him than it normally was, and it gave you an excuse to make sure he was taking breaks and eating and all the good things. But even in those precious times, someone would come in with more work for him to do, or more forms he had to review and sign. It always seemed to kill the mood, and that smile of his that would show up would quickly disappear.

The hall seemed to stretch on forever, but you finally arrived in front of the door to your room. With a heavy sigh, you pushed the door open, heading straight for your desk, dropping your bag down beside the chair. You knew this was going to be a long night, and not even a single ounce of your being was looking forward to doing all this work. As you settled into your chair, you pulled out your various notebooks and textbooks, diving in and getting started.

Hours later, you decided it was time for a break. You were about halfway through with everything you had to do that night, but you knew you needed some sort of sustenance and water if you were going to keep going. Hopefully Beel hadn’t already cleaned out the kitchen, and maybe there would be a snack or two left for you. You stretched out your arms and legs, a few satisfying pops and cracks following the motions.

Quietly, you slipped out of your room and headed back down the long hallway, on your way to the kitchen. Before you headed to your destination, you wanted to check on Lucifer. You’d been working for awhile, and you really hoped that he’d decided to take a break, or maybe he’d stopped for the night. It was late anyway, and most of the other brother’s were asleep, with the exception of Levi. He’d told you he was waiting for a new sale that was starting tonight, and there was no way he would be sleeping until it was open.

When you stopped at the eldest brother’s office, you noticed that the door was cracked, but the music was still playing. A sign that he would be in soon, and you assumed he must’ve went to get something quickly, or maybe a bathroom break. A realization came to you that now was a chance to get him some water, because you were certain he hadn’t been properly hydrating.

You ran to the kitchen, making sure you were light on your feet so no one would hear your thundering steps. Snagging two bottles of water, you checked the cabinet, and it seemed you were in luck. There was a few snack options, and you grabbed your favorite of the options, then grabbed something you knew Lucifer would like. You hurried back to his office, feeling a bit like a spy on mission.

He still wasn’t back, and you walked into the room, heading straight for his desk. Papers were a bit scattered, his pen left on top of a small stack of documents. From the looks of it, he probably wouldn’t be stopping until the early morning with this amount of work. A sigh escaped your lips, and you went to set the water and snack on top of the papers, making sure he would see it. You noticed a stack of sticky notes nearby, and you grabbed one, placing it in front of the little refreshments you’d brought. Grabbing his pen, you wrote a little note.

“Don’t forget to have some water and food to keep you going. If you get a chance, please take a break, because you’re health is more important than the work.”

You signed your name at the bottom, adding a little heart. But, as you looked at it, you realized the heart was a bit forward. He could be coming back to his office at any moment, and you knew you didn’t have much time left. Somehow, you managed to turn the heart into a strange looking flower. Satisfied with your work, you put the pen back how you found it and ran out of his office, making sure you grabbed your own snack and water.

You made it back to your room unseen, and you took your snack break. It was more needed than you thought it was, because you seemed to be starving. The snack would be enough to hold you over, but you’d probably eat a little more at breakfast the next morning. Once you finished the snack, you walked back to your desk, setting the water down and getting back to work.

At some point during the night, you’d passed out on your desk. Notebooks sprawled out, papers scattered, pens on the floor but luckily your pencil stayed safe, just a few inches away from your hand. You woke with a start, an alarm you hadn’t realized you’d set blaring some annoying tune that you just had to turn off. When you finally succeeded in that task, you looked at the mess of things on your desk. Turns out you’d gotten more than you thought you had, and there were only a couple of assignments you would need to turn in late. Lucky.

You stretched out your hands, your back arching as you yawned, your body trying to wake up. It hadn’t been the most comfortable sleep, but at least it was something. As you were stretching out, you glanced down and you noticed a bright pink square. Next to the pink square, there was a water bottle, and what looked like some sort of food. Breakfast food. Wiping at your face, you blinked a couple times, waiting for your vision to clear up some. Then, you grabbed the note, bringing it to your face so you could read it.

“Thank you for the food and drink, and don’t worry, I took a break eventually. Looks like you could use some of the same. Don’t be late for class.”

The words were written in a fancy script, almost cursive, and it was very easy to tell that Lucifer had left it. There was even a small little flower drawn on the corner of the note. It made you smile, and you moved to eat your food and to get ready for school.

Neither of you ever really mentioned the notes to each other, it was just an unspoken thing between you. Each of you appreciated what the other had done, and it was almost like it was your little secret.

It started off as just that. Every now and then, you would leave a little note for Lucifer in his office. Most of the time, there was a bottle of water and a snack with it. Sometimes just the water, or sometimes it was just a little note for a check in. Usually, some sort of drawing accompanied it, of course, nothing with too much detail. Just a little something to maybe make him laugh or smile.

For whatever you’d left, he always gave you a note back. Even if it was just to say thank you. He’d leave them around your room, and sometimes, if he felt daring, even on your door.

This little passing of notes between you, it was almost like a game of tag, waiting to see if the other would leave something, waiting with anticipation to see how they would respond to whatever had been left. It was a wonderful little thing. So wonderful, that eventually, it became and everyday thing. You’d leave a little sticky note on his door, in his office, or just places around the House of Lamentation that you knew he would see. Most of the time, if you weren’t feeling super creative, you would just write hello in different languages, or maybe leave him random facts about yourself. The facts were his favorites, and you didn’t know, but he always saved the notes in one of his drawers.

Lucifer was walking to his office, and when he reached the door, he noticed a little blue square, just right above the door handle. He smiled, going to pull it off of the door to look at it closer.

“Out of all the stars, my favorite has to be the morning star”

The little compliment made him flush, and he quickly went to his office, going to put the note in the little drawer. He sighed, sitting down in his chair, leaning back as he spun a little bit as he thought.

He would never admit just how much your little notes meant to him, but he absolutely loved to read them. It made his heart swell with pride, and a little something else, too. The messages you left them, no matter how strange or weird, he found them wonderful and adorable. Even if it was just some random fact that taco cat is the same spelled backwards or forwards.

With each little note, he could feel himself slipping more and more into these little feelings for you. It had started off as a simple little crush, and then you actually took the time to check up on him, make sure he was pacing himself while he worked, also making sure that he was caring for his health. Just showing that sort of care towards him, it made him feel something a little stronger for you than just his little crush.

He sighed, rubbing his temple as he sat in thought. He hated not being able to do anything about these feelings for you, just keeping them trapped in his head and in his heart. It frustrated him, the fact that his thoughts kept wandering to you, knowing that he couldn’t act on them.

Wait a second... why couldn’t he act on them? He is Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride. He’s the oldest, he’s well respected, hardworking... so couldn’t he act on these feelings? Let you know that he wanted to hang out, more than just leaving these little notes between you? Of course he could.

He went to stand up, his brain determining that he should just talk to you, but then he stopped. Something about it didn’t feel right, and what would he even say? Slowly, he sat back down in his chair, now lost in his own thoughts. How was he supposed to do this? Lucifer’s eyes began to wander, and he settled on a sticky note pad.

It was almost as if a lightbulb had went off over his head, moving to grab the pad so he could begin writing. The perfect way to do this would be through your own little communication system, wouldn’t it be? This definitely felt like it was the right way. He took his time, elegantly writing out his little message. He looked it over, shook his head, and threw it out. Starting over, he wrote it out again, workin the phrase just a bit differently. Turns out, he didn’t like it any better. Writing this note for the third time, he made another few adjustments. This continued for about half an hour, until he finally crafted the perfect note.

Lucifer waited and then left, going to your room. He knew you weren’t back just yet, probably out with one of his brothers. He quickly slipped in, going to leave the note on your desk. There was no need to spend too much extra time in here, so he left relatively quickly, going to find something to do so that he wouldn’t think about the time. Now, he played the waiting game, feeling the anticipation of when you would see his note, wondering how you would answer it.

You came home a little while later, laughing as you walked back in with Mammon. He’d needed you to come along with him today to some sort of important event, but it turned out that the event was rescheduled or something, so the two of you just ended up hanging out together for a little while.

Once you could escape to your room, you flopped down on the bed, sighing as you relaxed into the soft material. It had been a bit of a long day, and you closed your eyes, just resting for a moment.

You woke up from your accidental nap, sighing as you sat up, just waiting for your body to truly wake up. When you finally did, you stood up and walked over to your desk, intending to start working on your other assignments or at least map out what you needed to do. That’s when a small pink square caught your eye, and you picked it up to read it.

“If your free, what would you think about dinner tomorrow? Just the two of us, at 7:00?”

The little question made you smile, and you held the note close to your chest. So he’d finally asked. You were bursting with excitement as you went to write on your own sticky note, your handwriting sloppy but still legible. You underlined what you’d said, and this time, you’d added the little heart. But it was under an exclamation point, so you could just play it off.

Nearly sprinting down the hall, you almost knocked over Mammon in your rush. But that didn’t matter, you could apologize later. You were just wanting to make it to Lucifer’s office as quickly as you could. Finally, you reached your destination, grinning to yourself as you realized he wasn’t in his office. You placed the note right in the middle of his desk, so that there was no doubt he would miss it, and then you dashed back out of the room. Now, you were headed to Asmo’s room, hoping he could piece together some outfit for you to wear.

Lucifer was riddled with nerves when he made it back to his office, sighing as he closed the door. He hadn’t really been able to focus since he’d left the last note, and it certainly didn’t help that you hadn’t answered yet. He knew you were back from RAD, because he’s heard you and Satan talk as you came in. Hours had passed, and still nothing. Was that your way of saying no? Surely, you’d tell him if you weren’t interested.

He sat down in his chair, reaching to grab a pen so that he could attempt to start on some paperwork, hopefully get through a few stacks, when something caught his eye. It was bright yellow, no mistaking that it was a sticky note. Lucifer’s heart pounded in his chest as he peeled it up, going to take a closer look at what it said. When he read it, a smile came to his face, followed by a quick breath of laughter. Just with a few simple words, you eased all his anxiety from the past few hours, almost making him forget them completely. He tucked the note away in his drawer, just smiling and overall pleased. He couldn’t wait.

“It’s a date!”

Three simple words, and it was enough to keep him smiling for the rest of the night.