#they keep it preserved. immortality means needing things to do after all

[lorenfinch]

The Night Terrors have entered the chat

[fallinfl0wers]

i love you more than you'll ever know

fandom: genshin impact characters: albedo, venti, zhongli, xiao, wanderer reader type: gender neutral summary: yearning for someone came hand in hand with heartache. genre: angst and fluff, hurt/comfort. warnings: implied reader's death, also implied character death (xiao and wanderer kinda uh want to unlive themselves but not explicitly? i think?), mourning, slight sumeru spoilers for wanderer's. written as of 3.2 update. notes: inspired by hikaru utada's one last kiss. might do a part two, not sure when it'll be ready haha. xiao's and wanderer's are longer because i love them and i was feeling sadder as i wrote them so lol there they are. i'm sleepy but i wanted to finish these... i'll see if theres anything i need to edit tomorrow.

The meaning of this world, the truth of this world, Albedo thinks, is held within your hands. It is perhaps not the one he was looking for, or the one he had been expected to find, but personally? He would take this as the truth of the world.

Love is the truth of this world, the meaning of all sentient existence. The love one takes and gives, selflessly yet selfish al the same. The kind of love one feels from friends and family and lovers. Love is what really gives the world a meaning for those who live in it.

And for him, it is your love that fills his life with a new meaning.

Love that made him step away from experiments and investigation to take a stroll through the city, love that made him blush and giggle, love that brought a foreign yet sweet warm sensation to his chest, love that you held within your hands every time your fingers intertwined.

Love that somehow, with no reasoning or explanation, survived through all the uncertainty of fate, and the undeniable, unescapable cycle of life and death.

When your and Albedo's story is forced to come to a stop, he won't deny he felt his whole world came crashing down. Yet, more than anything, he feels grateful.

Perhaps at that time, he still would not find the truth of the world his master wanted him to. But one thing is for sure, and that's because of you, and everything you taught him.

If time and chance allow it, his love for you will be immortalized in paintings exhibited in museums; depictions of you and him, and you, you, you and you. Even when he, himself, has long since disappeared, that last trace of your love, of the truth of his world, will be preserved.

For Venti, freedom is everything. He would never tie you down so you could stay with him, even if that is what he would want the most. However, that also means he will not stop you if you, of your own free will, decide to spend the rest of your life with him.

He is selfish, just not selfish enough to decide what is best for you in your stead. This is why, he wholeheartedly decides to love you back without holding anything back, living each day like it is the last, enjoying the present doing anything and everything and nothing all at the same time.

It's ballads and tales, it's drinking and laughing at his silly shenanigans when he gets drunk, it's enjoying the breezes as you glide together and resting on the green hills and valleys of Mondstadt together, every day something new, every day a new memory to keep.

But, he knows, this won't last.

He is very well acquainted with loss, and the fragility of human life.

That is why he insisted on spending so much time together, it is why he was always clingy whenever the timing was right, why he insisted on making you laugh and smile every single day you were together.

The years spent together may seem long to you, even as you took your final breath. Yet, for him, it truly felt like it had been merely the blink of an eye. A momentary sigh, a brief instant of happiness.

Venti will sing ballads of you, for an audience of people or the always reliable, always present audience of the winds. And he knows that, even once his days come to an end, and until the end of this world, your love will be preserved, for eternities to come.

There is, after all, no world where the wind doesn't blow, even if it has come to an stop.

For Zhongli, contracts are everything. In his eyes, promises made are promises kept, and that is precisely what he does.

To you, he promised his love. For better or for worse, in sickness and in health, in life and death. In his own experience and words, everything must come to an end and every journey has its final day, but there is no need to rush. This is why, he never makes it a point to consciously think about the clock mercilessly ticking by as you spend your life with him.

Zhongli, the human, lives with you and shares countless experiences after experiences with you. From the simplest glance to the longest conversation to the harshest of arguments to the sweetest of kisses, Zhongli makes sure to live it with you, in the present moment, mind focused on here and now, carving each memory into his heart with the same precision an artist would carve a statue out of the finest jade.

The former god understands and accepts your mortality, and accepts it as a part of what makes you be who you are. He accepts it, and holds your hand, ever so resilient, as you take your last breaths, and bids you goodbye with a grateful smile and teary eyes.

Perhaps the legends of the mighty God of Contracts will never talk about your love, but even if there is no one left to share your memories with him, until erosion eventually claims him too, his heart won't stop beating for you.

Xiao would be lying if he said he never once doubted your sanity in the time he's known you. After all, why would you do something so terrible to yourself like willingly spending time with him? You must've been insane, he thought.

But, in reality, he was glad you were that little bit insane enough to open a space for him in your life.

From the very start, he's known you wouldn't be there forever. He is all too aware of how fragile life is, of how ephemeral you truly are. Like the sweetest of dreams, you feel like a fragile illusion of happiness that will be gone in the blink of an eye. Oh, but you are real, you are oh so real, and he knows it when you cradle his face with your hands and gently wipe the tears that silently fall down from his tired eyes that stare ahead, filled with complicated emotions, on a face far too unused to emoting, on a body far too small for the true amount of feelings that resided within it.

And he is quiet but his mind is loud, keeps him hyper aware of how short these moments of joy and peace are with you. And, although he would've never blamed you if you ever decided to leave him of your own will, he is glad you never did, he is glad that you would never do so. He is glad that you decided to spend your days with him, glad you were patient enough to wait for him to learn how to properly love you, glad you let him love you.

The days spent with you are easily the best fragment of Xiao's life. Short-lived, ephemeral, dreamlike, everything. Unforgettable.

He would like to keep you forever. His most selfish, impossible dream is for you to stay forever by his side. Greedy he is, but never enough to burden you with such thoughts. Instead, he took every opportunity he had to spend time with you, no matter what you were doing, he wanted to be there, even if it was in a place he didn't like, he didn't want to waste a single second of your life.

When you depart from the world of the living, a part of him leaves with you.

And, Xiao knew when he fell in love. You would be the death of him.

He won't last long after you leave.

He'll do his best to live, because he knows you would want him to live, but he truly won't be able to do so for long.

Legends will speak of the tragically beautiful love that Liyue's last Yaksha had towards a human, speak of how he learned how to be human for love, of how his love was so intense and pure it was the only thing that kept him tied to the world of the living for years to come.

And when Xiao's time comes, he smiles as he sheds tears and looks up at the infinite blue sky.

When the light leaves his eyes, and his last breath is a sweet proclamation of his everlasting love for you, he knows.

He will see you in another life, in another world.

It took him three betrayals to finally understand: the world is an elaborated tapestry of lies.

It took him pain and humiliation, having his one purpose taken away, for him to understand: just because you want something, that does not mean you will get it. No matter what you do, if the world decides you won't have it, then you won't.

Receiving kindness from the dendro archon was and the blessing of an anemo vision were some of the things that set him on the right path to find his true wishes on his own, but most importantly, your existence in his life made something inside him turn and twist. You filled him with an achingly bittersweet yearning to love and be loved, you made him want to trust, made him willing to endure pain and betrayal if it meant he could spend eternity with you.

Eternity, the concept that his creator was (or still is, he wouldn't know) so obsessed with, obsessed with enough to discard him like worthless dross and abandon him to fend for himself with no instructions or expectations. Now, Wanderer felt as though he could understand her just a bit.

Or maybe a lot.

Eternity stretches things over a long time, but each moment within it becomes all the more fragile.

Nevertheless, when he had you, when you loved him, he finally understood why his mother was so desperate back then to attain eternity. He, too, when affronted with the harsh reality that you and your comforting warmth would not be around for long, desperately wished for a miracle to happen so he could stay forever with you. You living forever or him going with you once you left, he cared not, he only wanted you you you you and nothing else.

But, as he discovered, after long periods of anger and denial over painful feelings, acceptance is sure to come.

You are not like him in the slightest. Born human, with a heart of your own, knowing kindness and happiness from people around you, while his body was just a mere imitation of human flesh, an empty husk unfit for the only task he was created to perform. Yet, you still loved him as though he was not an easily replaceable abomination, but a human.

After you're gone, he cries the most he's ever cried. Rests his head on your chest that has long since stopped moving up and down with your breathing while his ears are met with silence when before he would listen to your comforting heartbeat, and he cries.

It will be long before the life of the Wanderer comes to an end- after all, he was created to endure an eternity functioning. Every dawn and every sunset, every passing breeze and station, he will remind the days you were together, and smile, as the empty space in his chest weeps silently, waiting, longing, hoping there exists a day in which he can meet you again.

For now, now that you're not with him anymore, he would simply keep walking, chasing the breeze that blows on a bright afternoon.

fallinfl0wers. 2022.

[creepypastalover97]

Tumblr: create au ship using your favorite comfort character.

What I give:

Medieval au: Reanimated knight! Rengoku Kyojuro x witch y/n

Author note: if you don't want angst I suggest to stop reading at the angst warning.

Basically Rengoku Kyojuro is a 20 year old single unmarried knight who died in battle in the 5th century. During the process of having his body sent back to his family for burial, there was some "misidentification and misinformation" causing his corpse to accidentally be sent to witch y/n's residence.

Witch y/n is a 21 year old single unmarried women, who is secretly a witch behind closed doors. Dispite arguing for 5 minutes that kyojuro was not her husband, witch y/n is forced to take his corpse for burial due to his body already attracting flies and needing burial fast before it started to rot.

Witch y/n now stuck with a corpse, has to figure out how to deal with it. After an hour witch y/n figures she could just use kyojuro's corpse for a advanced spell she's been "dying" to try out. After 2 tries witch y/n successfully manages to revive rengoku's corpse.

Kyojuro is now a undead Reanimated corpse, who is magically bonded to witch y/n though the spell she used to bring him back from the dead. This means if witch y/n were to die, kyojuro would eventually go back to being a dead corpse due to the spell being broken.

Witch y/n now has a servant to do chores and errands for her, to her their magical bond is "master & servant".

But kyojuro doesn't see their bond as that, to him it's "husband & wife". Reasons being kyojuro died single, unmarried, and a virgin. So having his corpse end up in witch y/n's care and brought back from the dead only convinces kyojuro that they are fated to be together. It also doesn't help that witch y/n is the first thing he saw when he was Reanimated.

Witch y/n isn't sure how to handle rengoku's overly affectionate behaviors, but eventually learns to love them. Eventually she starts to like the idea of kyojuro as a husband.

Honestly the only reasons why witch y/n never married was because 1.) She was a witch, so it made it really hard to find a man who was trustworthy enough not to report her for being a witch and sent off to be burned to death. 2.) men in general were to demanding, of what she should or should not do at that time period.

So kyojuro is a breath of fresh air for her.

Kyojuro is really supportive of her profession as a witch, dispite if some of the spells she preforms sometimes bother him a little. But he does like how some of the magic she uses could be used to heal and protect the weak.

Witch y/n also likes how dispite their relationship now acknowledged as being "husband & wife" kyojuro doesn't force her to take on duties expected of a wife/woman.

Kyojuro just lets her do what makes her genuinely happy, and he is always happy to help her with any tasks she needs done. Kyojuro genuinely believes in "happy wife, happy life" even if he isn't a living human anymore. (He is essentially a house corpse husband now 😊)

That brings me to some slight problems in their relationship tho.

Since kyojuro is technically still a "corpse". He is still technically rotting/decaying and well... smells. After all the spell, witch y/n used only Reanimated his corpse, not his life.

Luckily witch y/n is knowledgeable in plants and herbs and is able to come up with a embalming solution to use on kyojuro's corpse once a month, to keep him from rotting more & to preserve him better.

It also makes him smell pretty😊

Angst warning: mentions of somewhat immortality, watching loved ones age and die, witchcraft accusations, and historically accurate witch burning? And Death.

Due to kyojuro essentially being a undead Reanimated corpse. He won't ever grow old, meaning he has to slowly watch witch y/n grow old and eventually die.

Since kyojuro doesn't age, and was most likely seen the day his corpse was brought though the nearby village, when it was being delivered to witch y/n's residence. It would be a matter of time before someone recognized kyojuro from that day whenever he goes to the village to get some of the things he can't find out in the wilderness for his "wife".

Seeing what is essentially a "dead man walking" would raise suspensions of witchcraft among the villagers. Eventually leading to a nosey villager to following rengoku to y/n's home one day.

While returning one day, after going out to get some herbs from the woods, y/n needed that day. Kyojuro returns to see his and y/n's home in ashes

Worried for y/n, kyojuro frantically starts searching for y/n though the rubble and ashes. Since he is still able to move it must mean y/n is still alive.

Kyojuro eventually finds y/n, barely hanging on to life. Knowing that what was keeping him "alive" was the magic that bonded him to y/n, kyojuro chooses to spend his last moments holding and comforting y/n though her own last moments.

Angst/fluff: happy ending?

When the villagers return to check on the status of the burning of the witch, they are surprised to see kyojuro's now also dead corpse holding y/n's corpse.

After some proper identifying of kyojuro's corpse properly this time, by the local medical practitioner. It was found that kyojuro's family has been looking for his "corpse" after someone accidentally sent someone else missing loved one's "corpse" to their family estate.

Deciding that it was best to return kyojuro's "corpse" back to his family for proper burial, the villagers attempted to separate kyojuro and y/n

But dispite their best efforts, the villagers could not pull kyojuro and y/n apart at all, due to how tightly kyojuro's corpse was holding on to y/n's corpse.

Seeing that their was no other choice, the villagers had to send back both kyojuro's and y/n's corpses to kyojuro's family estate for burial.

Both kyojuro's father shinjuro and younger brother senjuro, were surprised to find kyojuro's corpse holding a woman's corpse, when he was brought home for burial. (they wanted to make sure the right body was brought back this time)

Seeing how kyojuro held the woman, made senjuro suggest that she must have been kyojuro's "maiden" and that it would seem disrespectful to kyojuro in death if they weren't buried together.

Shinjuro who had gotten somber after having his first born marked as missing in battle for 5 years and now officially proclaimed as dead, agrees with senjuro.

Kyojuro & y/n are buried together as "husband and wife" for the rest of eternity. Never to be separated from each other

...ever.

Any way 😊

I hope you guys liked it . This was actually inspired by this:

[dead0nightshade]

This headcanon has a decent sized lead in to explain it and its really silly in the end, so bear with me. (It also might be a bit all over the place because I'm trying to bang this out quickly becore I have to go, lol)

Zhongli being immortal means that he is a very patient man(Dragon? Dragon.) dispite the ferocity and feral tendency of his youth. So when he meets Childe for the first time and realizes that, yes, this is the man he wants to spend his days with, he's probably hoping that his immortality will end when he forks over his gnosis.

Unfortunately for poor Zhongli, it doesn't, and while he has the time that he craved for with Childe, his darling love is only mortal. But this is Tayvat, where all the world is a stage and the actors will always be called back time and time again for the rolls they have to play, so all Zhongli really needs to do is wait.

It's painful. So painful. Everytime his heart leaves him he's forced to pause and wallow in his own loneliness while waiting for the cycle of things to restart. The first few times really nearly broke him.

But, after a while, he would be able to start looking forward to running into his baobai again and especially looking forward to seeing what trouble Childe manages to get into in this new life.

Of course, Zhongli cannot maintain his position as funeral consultant for too long. People might start to get suspicious when a man claiming to be a fellow mortal doesn't age. He has to switch things up from time to time. And if, in that switching up, he learns how to put himself in the best positions possible to interact with Childe intimately on this new stage, well nobody is going to call him out on his schemes.

On top of this, Zhongli might have stepped down as The Lord of Geo, but he is still The Prime Adepti no matter what he does. So sometimes he...invites his fellow adepti into his new schemes.

Now, they aren't always completely fresh ideas. He's been a professor several times (not just because he loves the way Childe jokingly called him that in their first life together all those years ago), a member of the millelith in various positions a few times, a boss of a (shall we say) family twice, an artist several times, a champion fighter, an underground fighter, a historical advisor, a museum curator, a librarian, and (much to Venti's loud and cackling amusement) a bard/poet three times.

When times start to shift and things change, he learns new hats too. Joining Venti in learning how to fly planes is always a memory he'll hold as guilded gold (though he can never quite tell if it's out of fondness or from pure frustration). The invention on the internet and watching the subsequent changes from that has been fascinating.

But through it all, every passing of every year, he’s always doing it for Childe. He loves seeing the new ways the younger man will come waltzing into his life. He dreads the days when Childe inevitably has to bow out of it too.

So it goes without saying that Zhongli hoards Childe's time as all these years pass. Hoards away Childe's opinions on the times they live in like their gospel. Hoards Childe's things for him in carefully preserved, neatly arranged rows.

The one thing he can't ever seem to get enough of is the music that Childe brings with him. Zhongli can mark memories to songs that Childe sung along to or hummed the tune of while cooking. He can mark eras and areas by the style and tempo to which Childe swung his hips and laughed to.

Zhongli cannot begin to count the pieces of music that he keeps stored in his hoard, some of it so old that the notes on the yellowed pages haven't been heard by mortal ear for eons. Zhongli was extatic when they came out with vinyl records. Cassettes were even better becuasethey were smaller and took up less space. And then they came out with CDs and Zhongli had to commend mortals for the wonders of their minds. He lost his fucking mind when the first digital music players became avaliable (and then discovered, to his frustration, that the little devices could only hold so much data. He got happier with them as they advanced.)

So when Childe walks back into his life, Zhongli is always excited to reintroduce him to all of his past live's favorites and then show him all the songs Zhongli has been listening to in the mean time. No matter what hat the two of them are wearing in this fresh start, weather it be cop and robber, student and teacher, or fighter to fighter, Zhongli herds them both into a comfortable space with a music player and plays music while he re-bonds with his beloved again.

All of this to say this: This latest reincarnation of Childe, if he was born in the later parts of the 90s/the early parts of the 2000s would have quite a few opinions on music when sitting down with Zhongli. And Zhongli, who does his best but has never really kept up with the more petty tendencies of mortals would very unironically love some music that Childe might have gotten negative opinions about from growing up in the times that he did.

Here's the thing, when Childe's at home, he has his younger siblings, and for a while he was the younger sibling, so most of what he listens to is clean for kids. (I'm sure mans has most of the Tayvat equivalent to Disney memorized at this point.) He's also a workaholic (as evidenced by the fact that The Knave said he was supposed to be on vacation in Fontaine, but when we meet up with him again he's literally out working for the branch of Northland Bank in the area) So if someone on the internet says a band is cheesy, unless he wants to use up his scant little bit of personal time to check it out, he usually just has to take them at thier word. It probably fits that in this life, he works as a Northland Bank official (and sometimes participates in the particular brand of dept collection all Snezhnayan banks are known for)

Here's the other thing, Zhongli is a fan of rock and roll music, as evidenced by Xinyan's voice line about him (if you know you know. If you don't, go look it up it's fucking hilarious. All the headcanons about Zhongli, the god of rocks, loving rock music give me life and I love the little but of crumblike evidence for it) and is probably thrilled to listen to the way its changed and evolved over the years. He's also thrilled with the way its grown in popularity! I think in this life he probably decided to take it easy and fall back into one of his old roles. It probably helps that the new director of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor reminds him so much of her ancestor.

So, when Zhongli and Childe sit down, Zhongli will definitely just start playing the music. Childe will probably listen to the lyrics first (as an elder sibling gaging if something is appropriate for the younger ones might). Now, the song that Zhongli is showing him right now is not appropriate for his siblings, but Childe like it alot.

Curious, he asks Zhongli what the name of the band is. Imagine Childe's face when Zhongli replies, unironically and happily, Nickelback. Imagine Childe's internal struggle when he realizes he really likes Nickelback dispite everything he's read on the internet dissing them (for no reason). Imagine the blush on Childe's face when he hears some of the things described in those songs coming off of the elegant funeral consultant's lips (low key imagining them doing some of those things together( the song 'animals' comes to mind )

In short, Zhongli would unironically like Nickelback and would make Childe like them too. Childe would not know what that.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

[kiyomiiz]

HAD to rant about wilsiri after seeing how little content it has compared to some other ships such as wilashe.. Like guys wilsiri needs more stuff its so goddamn lacking!!! On tiktok it has 200 while wilashe and noelclaire have 400-500 and on ao3 wilsiri ONLY has 13 fanfics while wilashe has 57 WHAT IS THIS DIFFERENCE...

So here's why I THINK wilsiri should be more shipped in the WH fandom (pls more content)

(the rant was made some days ago)

I LOVE WILSIRI so goddamn much they make me sick and unwell. They share like the death parallels which i find absolutely GRUESOME like? Wilardo wants to die like every goddamn second. And Sirius wants to live and stay alive but wilardo cannot die and sirius always ends up being killed first ALWAYS. And i really like that parallel. they also have matching personnalities with wilardo being quiet most of the time and sirius WANTING quiet after literally having strangers in his house living freely and stuff, like my guy is not happy and wilardo is the one giving sirius the quietness sirius needs for his sanity. Also the fact that like AT THE LEAST 80% of the reasons why wilardo didnt kill claire is bcs of SIrius. Because in Wilardo's scenario and sirius's conclusion WIlardo literally had a talk with sirius and they had gotten just a TAD BIT or even more closer from that one talk in the kitchen yk?? Like wilardo always hesitated and stuff from killing or not claire bcs he talked to sirius and sirus literally moved wilardo with JUST SOME WORDS OF ADVICE like the smallest thing made an huge impact on claire's survival. I CANNOT SEE THIS AS PLATONIC since literally wanting to kill to get what you've been wishing for FOR OVER 500 years. plus nothing would even matter since bros legit dead afterwards BUT NO Wilardo decided against the idea bcs he valued sirius and his words which literally helped him KEEP his humanity that he was struggling to keep. Like in wilardo's scenario sirius and him talked a bit BUT not enough and ashe encouraged wilardo BUT THE SAME THING HAPPENENED IN SIRIUS'S CONCLUSION but this time Sirius was still alive and wilardo and sirius got even closer. LIKE THEY HONESTLY NEED EACHOTHER IN A DEEPER WAY PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC WTV but needing someone to literally stay human, keep sane is NOT seen as platonic (IN MY MIND AT LEAST) Like rmbr when sirius walked in on claire with wilardo while he was doing his preservation thing and sirius and claire were like its nice that the flowers can stay beautiful and be preserved for a long time while wilardo said that he actually prefers flowers that wilts easily THATS A REFERENCE TO HIS IMMORTALITY bcs he has been preserved for way too long and yet Sirius keeps saying he still likes it bcs it has different virtues and meanings AND THE FLOWERS NOW DONT JUST REPRESENT LIFESPANS BUT PPL TOO bcs wilardo always avoided keeping ppl bcs they'd die BUT NOW HES STARTING TO LIKE PPL MORE which is proven by the ending when wilardo says he wants to stick around some more. Yk when sirus says he likes the flowers that are preserved for a long time ITS LITERALLY WILARDO. Unconcsiously saying he likes wilardo haha... (jk kinda?) PLUS THE fact that wilardo is one of the few people that sirius can actually tolerate. he has a soft spot or smth.. PLUS that talk in the kitchen again, it was so civil if someone else asked this, sirius would have NOT given the same answer or even agreed to answer AND THE WAY THE CONVERSATION WAS GOING i expected wilardo to call sirius cute /srs. AND WILARDO SMILES TOO and wilardo almost (literally never) NEVER smile and the only time wilardo has smiled it was for sirius and occasionally also at claire. LIKE DONT YOU RMBR HIM BEING ALL GIDDY AT THE END????? AND ALSO WHEN THEY RAN INTO EACHOTHER IN THE FOREST WHERE SIRIUS SO CASUALLY STARTED EXPRESSING HIS FRUSTRATION?? Like if it was ANYONE ELSE. ANYONE ELSE. Sirius would get angry and even more worked up LIKE HELLO??? DO YOU SEEE HOW CIVIL THEY ARE?? HOW THEY MATCH ECAHOTHER IN EVERY ASPECT?? HOW THEY NEED EACHOTHER FOR THEIR SANITY?? HOW MUCH THEY APRECIATE EACHOTHER UNINTIONALLY??? HOW PERFECT AND HEALTHY THIS COULD BE??? HOW MUCH TRUST THEY HAVE UNCONSCIOUSLY???

wilsiri is my otp and will always be I DIGRESS IF YOU DONT LIKE WILSIRI LIKE ITS SO ADGAGDGAUDGAGDAGDGAQGDAYFUFEDYA im dying

[luridon]

Heartrot

What's important is that you live.

♡characters: yandere!immortal x shipoftheseus!reader (Yep. I guess we're going with that desc)

♡warnings: MINORS DNI, obsession, body horror, implied murder, psychological horror, MINORS DNI

♡notes: I sure hope this one is searchable because the last one with a merman was not. Also. This is also less of a story and more of a horrible thought experiment. Go read Dear My Living Dead by Aidalro

♡w/c: 900+ | ♡masterlist♡

How terrible it is for an immortal to fall in love with a mortal. Whether the long-lived is a deity or merely someone very powerful, whether this invincibility is brought about by arcane magic or advanced sciences, it must be very lonely. For such an individual, falling in love with someone mortal has to simply be the worst thing possible.

Would it be worse to have a devoted love since the start of such a long, dreary life, or to have your world warmed and brightened after ages of cold lonesomeness only to lose that light?

Of course there would be joy. There would be true happiness and blissful comfort and affection- but only at first. There would always be dread, and as time crawls by and one's beloved simply can't be granted the accursed blessing that will stretch the immortal's lifespan misesrably, uncomprehendingly long after their dearest one's. . .creativity will be required.

Keeping you alive is paramount. That means you can't simply be put to sleep and preserved- that's a corpse, not a life, not a love.

The human body is merely a mass of moving parts. It is a machine that runs on blood and nutrients, its mechanisms formed of flesh all pumping and beating and shifting to the rhythm that is you.

If a part breaks, then replace it.

The world is full of people. It's no trouble to take their parts to fix yours. Whether with science so strange it seems like magic, or magic so complex and specific it is its own rigid discipline, such an act must be possible. Alchemy or art, research or ritual, it will be done. It must be done.

You will be soothed if it hurts. You'll be cared for until the aftermath settles down. You may disagree with the method, but all that matters is that you live beside them still. It would be best if you don't know the source of your extended life. A mortal mind can only handle so much. If the truth will trouble you so, it would be best if you know nothing at all.

Only know them as someone you love. Only know that you are loved. You can live blissfully, if ignorantly, by their side, and they will be able to live well too. If something is amiss, simply say so. If something hurts, it will be remedied at once. Whatever you need, whatever breaks, it can be fixed, and you won't have to remember that you were ever pained at all.

Still, you must think that something is wrong, sometimes. That your arms do not feel like your own, that your very skin is wrong. You'll see phantoms in the mirror somedays, and flinch at the sound of your own voice when you hear it in the quiet.

An immortal may be a wanderer. An immortal may just as well as have gained the means over the years to have a place grand enough to entertain and secluded enough to be safe. Some days, you'll need more rest. Some years, you may simply live in your home, and forget you had ever known the world beyond the building, just as you so easily forget that you do have a rooted home somewhere until you two return to the abode.

Your love would be glad either way, being within or beyond the walls secondary to your comfort, but sometimes you may indulge his worry and rest. And some days you will explore and remember all the trinkets and baubles. And some nights you may join your beloved a dance you have not done in years, or simply listen to him tell stories that have slipped from your terribly forgetful mind.

Sometimes, you will find your love looking at you, and you will wonder if there was always such a dreadful fear in them when you only stumbled a little or let a cup slip from your hands.

Sometimes, you will wake up, and be asked to move your leg, your arm, to breathe, to swallow, to do all matter of odd, simple things, and you no longer forget these strange dreams by dawn, after seeing them so much.

Sometimes, you will wander the halls, and feel even less like yourself. Your heart will ache as you traverse the corridors that seem darker, stranger, more abandoned, and you will find a room so terribly familiar.

And you will open the ancient door, and you will break.

Because within lies yourself.

Your hair, your eyes, your limbs, your body, your face- every inch of skin and hair and offal something that is undeniably yours in a way your body simply is not. You stare upon yourself in too many pieces to comprehend, and every part of you between that first vessel and the current is scattered just as dizzyingly.

Those times are always so unfortunate, but your love doesn't have the heart to lock up or throw away anything that's ever been yours. Every part is nothing but a remnant, an old ragged fragment that used to hold you, but they were you once. You are loved so dearly it would pain the soul to part with even these scraps, and so they are preserved. It's a horribly, bloody sight, such a cemetery of you, and it aches when you hear it is all out of love.

(It will ache because you still love too, and there isn't a lie in the horrible, loving words.)

You may very well fall there. You may run away. But you will break, sooner or later, and you will be found.

You will be fixed. All that troubles you will be stripped away and your form will be settled anew.

You will wake and know you are loved, and you will love as you always have, and always will, because no matter how much you are changed, your heart is the one thing that could never be replaced.

[tanoraqui]

General Theory of Aman Economics

(by NOT an economist) (also on AO3)

Aman is very much a no-scarcity economy; even time isn’t limited, because everyone is immortal. However, they do use money, especially as more and more elves live there through sailing, re-embodiment, or just being born, because some sort of standardized valuation of common goods and conveniently exchangeable thing for them is useful.

Double-however, money is basically optional, because many people are happy to just share whatever, or barter, or learn to make something themselves rather than get it from someone else. Money most often gets used in:

Large collaborative projects where some sort of wages, payments for materials, etc. is a useful way to keep track of things as much as it is a means of paying people for their contributions. But payment may be required, at least as an enforcement of “you promised to do this so show up on time damnit”, if the work is a little boring—large-scale roadwork or something, idk—and not that many people are super interested.

If Person A wants to commission a creative work from Person B, and Person B isn’t inspired enough by their idea to do it for free and/or in any haste, and they don’t want anything from Person A in return…but they do want something from Person C, and C wants something from D… Money is often easier than arranging an elaborate trade chain

It’s entirely possible to use no money day to day and then, when you need it, go to an accountant and tell them all the things you own and what sort of work you can do, and they’ll tell you what value it all comes to, ie, how much money you legally have. You can then go physically withdraw that from a bank or do things intangibly like modern Earth finance.

As a rule, elves don’t go for paper currency, though metal may be used. In Middle Earth and other mortal continents of Arda, the most common Elvish currency is leaves of certain trees (to indicate denomination) preserved so as to not degrade and decorated in some standardized manner. Other Elvish currencies include shells, smooth rocks, and gemstones.

In Aman, the most common physical currency is gems, particularly in areas still socially dominated by Calaquendi, because that’s what the Calaquendi were using when everyone else started to arrive, because, yes, the Noldor invented money in Years of the Trees Aman. Of course the Noldor started it. They all carried around so many gems all the time that it was inevitable someone would be like,

“Hey, can I have your apple?”

“No, it’s mine. Get your own.”

“The nearest apple tree is a day away! Look, I’ll give you…” [fishes around in pockets] “…a ruby for it.”

“That is a nice ruby.”

“Damn right it is. Trade or not?”

“Trade.”

…and that happened enough that 1 apple = 1 2oz ruby started to unofficially standardize, and then someone sat down and laid out a proper system of standardization…

And then the Trees went Dark and everything got bad for a while, and in Beleriand there were REAL economics because there was actual scarcity, not to mention mistrust that people would keep their promises of future repayment; then in Aman post-War of Wrath there was no scarcity but with the ever-increasing mingling of ethnic groups the mistrust lingered…

Because gems are easily and happily made, insane inflation IS happening constantly, because you CAN just go to a jewelsmith and say, “Can I have [the equivalent of 5 million dollars] please?” and they’ll probably say, “Ooh neat project. In rubies or diamonds?”

There could be laws against this, but because it doesn’t REALLY matter (no scarcity!), instead, on average every couple hundred years the All-Aman Council of Economists and Accountants just issues a new declaration of, “We’re rebooting prices back to [X] standardization because it’s just not convenient to carry so many gems all the time just to buy a single apple. Use it or lose it by New Years. The Richest Elf Award will be announced the following month, after all accounting is done.”

(Accountants, people who professionally or as a hobby track where money is in the economy down to the smallest pebble, are generally regarded as a little weird even by elf standards. But they seem to be having fun!)

[nevvaraven]

August 10 - Prompt: Rain - 1.3k words - @jegulus-microfic - cw: MCD

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. 

The door creaks against the hinges as a voice clears behind him. “Mr Black, I’m very sorry but, do you know how much longer you’ll be w-“ 

“I have 13 minutes left.” 

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.  

“Of course.” She sounds sad. Whoever she is. “We’ll be just outside if you need anything.”  

Regulus listens to the soft close of the door and resumes the slow motion of running his hand down James’ face. He watches the rain splatter against the window and focuses on the droplets that slide down the glass. “You’d think after the 2 hours Sirius spent in here this morning that this lot would be more patient.”  

Silence.  

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.  

The rain falls harder as the winds pick up, it’s a dull noise but it’s at least something different to the regular beeps and tones of the machines that fill the room. Finally, Regulus turns towards his husband. 

It’s a struggle to do so. He can’t look away now, even if he wants to. 

“Harry had another tantrum when your parents came to take him earlier. First one in 4 days so, new record.” 

Regulus waits. He doesn’t know why. 

“Maybe he knows what today is.” He huffs a bitter short laugh as his eyes start to water again, "If he does, he’s dealing with it a lot better than I am.”  

Tick. Tock. 

“The-uh, nurses they, they told me if I didn’t do it by 11.59pm exactly that they’d have to come in here and do it themselves.” Regulus runs his hands through James soft curls, heart clenching at the memory of Euphemia asking the nurses if she could wash James’ hair this morning. 

Regulus supposes that’s all he’s going to have in a few minutes. Memories.  

“Obviously that didn’t go down well. Might’ve thrown a bedpan.” Regulus smiles to himself as he does his best to form James’ sweet laugh in his head. He fights it for as long as he can, but the tears roll down faster than the droplets out the window and the sob in his throat carries through every word he struggles to speak. 

“I’m doing it. Even if it’s the most awful thing you’ve ever done to me, I’m doing what you want.” James’ cheeks are hollower now, Regulus thinks as he strokes his face. He knows every curve and ridge of the body in front of him and to see it wither away to something that’s barely hanging on feels like a crime against nature.  

Something this beautiful should never be allowed to be fade. It should be protected, preserved, guarded. Like art, or history. Even if it means ordinary people can never come close to it, it should be saved. It’s too magnificent to not be immortal. 

James is too magnificent. He’s supposed to be immortal. 

The beeps of the machines and the steady noise of the ventilator have become an unhealthy comfort to Regulus. He knows they mean nothing, all they do is give him an illusion, but he’s fairly certain this illusion is the only thing keeping him from losing his mind. 

“30 days.” Regulus breathes out, “that’s what the directive said. After 30 days, if you didn’t come back to me, I’d have to let you go.” The machine beeps and the clocks tick like the symphony to Regulus’ torment, an orchestra made to torture to him in a room he can’t ever leave. “You’re a fucking bastard, Potter.” 

Of course, James didn’t tell him about it, probably knew well enough to know Regulus would’ve burned every single copy of any mention of an end-of-life directive. 

The rain fills Regulus’ ears, and it makes him think of the day they got married. 

“5 years ago, you stood under a soaking wet arch in the rain and promised me a lifetime with my husband.” Regulus swallows roughly as his breathing turns heavy, "how does a lifetime turn into 30 days?” 

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. 

“I can’t do this without you James” Regulus whispers as the sobs begin to take over his body. He’s so tired. He doesn’t want to cry anymore. “I’m so mad at you and I can’t be mad at you right now but what the hell am I supposed to do? How do I do this?” Regulus’ hands shake as he touches the lifeless body of his husband, willing him to show any sign of returning. Begging him to just stop this agony. 

Silence. 

Regulus moves to lie down on the bed next to him. He’s so familiar with this space and yet so unable to bear it now. It’s not how it’s supposed to be. James’ arms are supposed to be around him. His smile is supposed to be pressed into Regulus’ cheek. His hands are supposed to be sneaking their way under Regulus’ clothes.  

Instead, they’re still. They’re left at his sides, waiting for Regulus’ shaking hands to grasp them and bring them to his chest. Regulus does so and with both of James’ unmoving hands hugged against his own barely beating heart, Regulus is left to clutch at a chest that only moves up and down because of a machine he can’t bring himself to turn off. 

“I miss you so much.” Regulus’ forehead rests against James’ jaw, tears running dreadfully down both their necks as he cries and mumbles their minutes away. “I miss your voice. Your laugh. I miss your eyes.” 

Tick. Tock. 

“It’s raining James. We got married in the rain.” Regulus closes his eyes as he lies his head against James’ chest, tears uncontrollably falling from his eyes and soaking the hospital gown, “and now you’re leaving me in the rain.” 

Regulus sobs into his husband’s chest. His whole body curling forward, one hand reaching forward to grab a hold of James’ shoulder and the other holding his hand against his own breaking heart. He had always thought nothing could ever be that bad so long as he was holding James’ hand. And yet, here he is, feeling the world around him turn to ash and the breath in his lungs set him aflame, all because the hand that once comforted him can no longer clutch him back. 

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.  

“I can’t do it, I can’t, not alone. I don’t know- what do I- Harry needs you too.” Regulus feels an entirely different sort of pain when he remembers their son, so innocent and unaware of what he’s losing, “He’s going to get older, and he’ll need you. He has to learn how to ride a bike and go to school and do homework and make friends and graduate and fall in love and have his heart broken and be in pain and he needs you for that, James he needs you- he needs-” Regulus sobs harder than he ever has, his wails likely being heard through the entire hospital as he refuses to let go, “I need yo-” Regulus words turn to cries as he fights to catch his breath. 

“Please this isn’t fair. I don’t want to do this alone.” 

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. 

“You’re my everything James, you can’t-” 

Tick tock 

“Please don’t leave me like this.” 

Tick 

“Mr Black?”  

Tock  

“It’s 11.58” 

Tick 

“James.”  

Tock 

“It’s raining James. You always kiss me in the rain.”  

Tick 

“Mr Black?” 

Tock 

“I can’t do this.” 

Tick  

“I’m sorry sir, it’s time.”  

Tock. 

“James?” 

There are only 4 things to be heard in the hospital room when the clock strikes 12 am. The rain splattering against the window and the ticking's of a clock, that no one will remember. The cries of a broken man that the people around him will do their best to forget. And a flatline tone, signalling the end of the life of the only man Regulus Black will ever love, and a sound that will haunt him till the day he dies and sees his love again.

[muzzleroars]

Dude i am so fucking insane about your art its genuinely the main reason i made a tumblr account. also. Do you think v1 will ever break down in gabriel’s lifetime? I keep considering the idea after reading this fic where gabriel came across him half-buried in the sands of greed

omggg thank you so much!!! it sincerely means a lot ;o;

in my idea of events with the fallen gabe au, gabriel would likely still be able to continue for a long, long time, though perhaps not indefinitely necessarily. no matter what, his lifespan is still long enough to see the breakdown of v1's parts, which can only be mitigated by blood for a time. the process starts to become less effective, its body not healing properly and beginning to give in to the passage of time besides - plus, its mind isn't protected from these things either, code becoming overgrown and the hardware itself so delicate that it would inevitably fail. everything on earth has an end point, flesh and machine bodies breaking down in the same way being made from elements just held together in natural processes and so eventually rent by them.

(some mentions of mental deterioration/death under the read more)

gabriel would do regular maintenance on it, but they would both see when it was becoming more and more frequent, how v1 is slowing down physically and mentally. the body can be repaired almost indefinitely, especially if gabriel delved into metalworking, plastics, robotics - becoming a one-man factory creating bespoke parts with v1's assistance is hardly out of the question for a fallen angel. the problem is truly its computer, which isn't so easily stabilized and replaced, especially when it comes to preserving v1's memories and personality. they could keep its body in perfect working order if they can custom create any piece it needs (especially again if we go with paradise lost's idea that hell is rich in a wealth of all earthly minerals), but increasingly catastrophic software failures are harder to deal with. they would plan for it of course, figuring out the solutions they can try ahead of time, but when the time comes...watching v1 flicker, seeing its movements falter with newly repaired parts, the absolute heartwrenching, ice-cold fear of it shutting down unexpectedly and not waking up for hours, days....how it forgets, how it can't store many new memories, gabriel feels the deep, aching horror an immortal must when they truly understand what they love cannot last. intellectually it was always there, but to see it unfold, to be there now...gabriel's eyes finally freeze over with tears, v1 has nowhere to go, no soul to find heaven or hell or be reborn the way he was. it will just go dark. gabriel will see it, its perfect body that they've made and remade over so many decades or centuries, that he put all his love into preserving, but with no will to move it.

and i just don't think he could take it.

PERSONALLY my favorite wild headcanon for this scenario is gabriel storming heaven or going to find wherever god left his dead body and using that blood to revive v1 (that blood stays fresh forever.... guess lol) i'm just too much of a baby to commit to character death, plus i just really love the idea of everyone being like "where did god go....nobody knows...." until gabriel loses his mind and breaks every single law of heaven and hell without any limits to bring back his itty bitty bot!!!!!

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

In The Middle Of The Night

Summary: Spencer has an unforgettable encounter with the bookstore owner after hours.

Minors DNI/NSFW Content Warnings: Daddy Kink, penetrative sex without a condom, breeding kink, degradation kink, praise kink, spitting kink, mention of Shibari

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader (She/Her) | SMUT 18+

Word Count: 3300

Note: This is my first time writing daddy kink so please don’t make fun of me (im being serious…) But I hope you enjoy this!

In The Middle Of The Night...

Cleaning up for a bookstore that found itself filled with people of all walks of life was surprisingly peaceful. She reshelved the stray books, returning them to their designated place and taking a couple moments to collect inventory for her next ordering day. Recently, teenagers are liking fantasy books about immortal vampires and the elderly couple that came in every Thursday favored travel books about South East Asia. 

The Corner Book Shoppe, passed down from mother to daughter for the last four generations, was Y/N’s favorite place to be. Despite the sign on the door instructing customers that the store was closed for the night, a tall and ridiculously attractive man with shaggy brown hair knocked on the glass door. 

“We’re closed.” Y/N told the man, taking in his disheveled handsome appearance. A once five-o’clock shadow, now well into stubble, dusted his face. His eyes looked tired, but there was something else hidden behind the way he gazed down at her. “You can come back tomorrow.” 

The man smirked, leaning against the wooden door frame at the entrance. “What? You can’t make an exception for me?” 

Her resolve, unsurprisingly, was melting. The man’s soulful brown eyes bore fire straight into her heart. He knew, somehow, just the way to look at her to make her completely weak in the knees. His eyes were like liquor and his body shimmering with a golden hue from the bookstore’s golden light. 

“Make it quick.” 

“I’m just here to come and go.” The man teased, the playfulness in his voice making her entire body flush under the spotlight of his glare. “Do you have any books on shibari? I really don’t like shopping at the chain bookstore. You really gotta keep little gems like these alive.” 

“Shibari?” she asked, eyes daring to meet his observant gaze, “You mean like the–” 

“Japanese bondage? Yeah.” He explained, following Y/N down through the stacks and stacks of books. She kept the second-hand books near the front, since she always did discounts on them throughout the week. 

“I’m Y/N, by the way. I mean if I know you’re trying to get into shibari, I mean I should at least know your name.” 

“Spencer. And I promise it’s for a work thing.” 

“Do I even want to know what you do for work?” Y/N asked, looking back and meeting her eyes with the man’s. He chuckled, the rich, silky sound echoing in the tall stacks of books. The sound went straight through her, making her yearn for something that she didn’t even think she could want. 

“It’s not for me,” The man explained, “It’s for my coworker. I don’t need the book to know the basics about shibari.” 

“Is that so?” she asked, back now flush against the bookcase. An armchair was to her left and the vintage lamp casted dark shadows on Spencer’s golden face. He looked like he was preserved in time, his features tranquil and peaceful, yet smoldering with desire and passion. “You don’t look like the type to know much about that.” 

“Is that so, sweetheart?” Spencer whispered, his hands hovered over her hip bones, waiting for her permission to touch her. His face dipped down, so his breath was hot against her neck, drawing her in with every chuckle and calculated smirk. “You don’t seem like the type either, but I have a feeling you’re quite the little minx.” 

“Are you going to do anything about it?” She challenged, eyes finally daring to stare down Spencer’s eyes. The yellow light from the lamp lit their night cloaked encounter. Spencer’s lips floated above her’s, daring her to beg him for her. He leaned forward, inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume on her skin, and pressed his lips lightly against her’s. Spencer’s feather light kisses only proved to increase her need for him to touch her. 

“Come sit on my lap, sweetheart,” Spencer whispered, leaving a trail of wet, opened mouth kisses along her neck and jawline. Y/N could feel him smirk against her skin as she groaned at his words. Her hands knotted his hair, listening to him as he guided them to the armchair. 

Settled in the chair, Spencer’s fingers ghosted against her neck before they caught on the glittering gold necklace that rested against her collarbone. He pulled the necklace forward, marveling at her whimper as her body fell towards him. His lips slotted against hers again, capturing her in yet another searing kiss. Y/N melted into the kiss, losing herself in the way Spencer’s hands crawled up her back, claiming the expanse of her skin for his and his alone. 

“That’s a good girl.” Spencer hummed into her ear, “One kiss and you’re a good little girl for me. So pilant. So perfect.” 

She whined into Spencer’s neck, leaving kisses and marks of her own making against his flushed skin. His stubble was rough against her smooth skin, making her feel more raw and vulnerable under his already blistering gaze. His hands spread out across her neck, fingertips leaving heat-soaked touches that were followed by open mouthed kisses. She could feel his breath in her ear, counting the times his chest rose, forcing their two bodies to arch closer than before.

“Daddy please,” she whimpered, her hands forming fists around the fabric of Spencer's shirt. She could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat against her chest, beckoning her toward him like a light at the end of a dark and deep tunnel. She wrinkled his shirt, secretly like the way his appearance grew more and more disheveled as time unfolded. 

“Daddy, huh,” Spencer whispered. His voice was charismatic, an aphrodisiac that threatened to make her head spin around and around again. Spencer’s lips melted the walls she put up, breaking them down in one kiss to her temple. His lips are like fire, like molten lava that drips down the curve of her lip, over the slope of her neck, and the sharpness of her collarbone. He’s everywhere and nowhere at once. 

“Yeah,” she confirmed, a shyness patablable in her timid tone. It was like every nerve in her body was lit on fire. She felt it build and build like an orchestra’s crescendo in her belly as Spencer’s nimble fingers twisted around her hips and ventured lower and lower to her thighs. 

Spencer’s hands slapped against her legs lightly, silently instructing her to stand. On wobbly legs, she followed his directions, earning a sly, yet devilishly charming smirk. His hands worked her jean’s button fly, undoing them and dragging them to her ankles. Spencer’s eyes ranked over her legs, scanning and taking in the bareness of her soft skin. He trailed a single finger from her ankle. It was like her spine was electrified, watching his long, most-definitely skilled finger travel up her kneecaps, her thighs and wrap around, deliciously, her waistband. 

“Already soaked for me,” Spencer tutted, his tongue peaking out from in between his teeth. An air of confidence radiated off him as he tugged off her underwear. “Let’s see how pretty you look sitting on my cock,”

She bit her lip, a cautionary measure to prevent herself from sounding as desperate as her mind and body felt. Spencer’s hands, warm and large, gripped the fleshy part of her hips, hauling her back towards his lap. He had already undid his pants, his belt lying forgotten at his side. Hungry, Spencer licked his lips, pink tongue jutting out again as a sinful promise of what was to come. He winked and it was like they had a secret world together with words and languages and colors they couldn’t hear or see without anyone else. 

“Please hurry, daddy,” she whimpered, the crude name sounding playful and teasing from her mouth. He pressed kisses against her soft stomach, face and hands hidden under her tee-shirt. She took it off, revealing his messy hair even more disheveled from the fabric of her shirt. 

“Good girls are patient,” Spencer reminded her, “Are you going to be a good girl for me? Or am I going to have to make you be a good girl for me?” he asked, not really giving her a choice in the matter. Her heart rose to her throat and butterflies took home in her belly as Spencer’s hands guided her to his lap again. She felt him against her thighs, hard and warm, desiring her like no one else ever had and perhaps ever will. 

“I’m gonna be a good girl, daddy,” she promised, sin dripping from her lips as she took his face in between her hands and kissed his temples. 

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you.” Spencer gathered, his hands wrapping around her waist, finally bringing their two bodies together in a motion that was too godly to be considered a sin. Him touching her was like reaching Heaven itself. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of his cologne. “That’s it, pretty girl. Fuck youself on my cock.” 

Her heart skipped a beat as his dirty words contrasted the soft pecks he placed at the base of her throat. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” Y/N complained, the slight whine in her voice making Spencer dig his fingers so deep into her skin he’s bound to leave bruises, “so fucking crazy.” She cursed, leaning into kiss Spencer, already craving the pressure of his mouth against her mouth. 

“Language.” Spencer corrected, confidence and certainty coloring his beautiful face. “Or am I going to have to punish you for being a wanton little slut?” 

“No, no, please I’ll be a good girl, I’ll be a good girl for you, daddy.” Y/N said, the desperation in her voice hung tense in the air between them. 

“I know you will, sweet girl. You make me very happy seeing you bounce on my cock like a cute little bunny.” 

He stroked her cheek with the back of his right hand, the left hand slid between where they bodies met, finally giving into the fiery desire that drove her to the edge of desperation. Y/N closed her eyes and sighed, finding intimacy and safety in the small gesture. She groaned at the feeling of Spencer’s long fingers casting shockwaves of pleasure and tilted her head to place kisses against the palm of his hand. 

“See? Now that’s a good girl. So soft and good for me.” Spencer praised. His eyebrow raised cockily as he slid himself into her without a second thought. “What a slut, letting me fuck you without a condom. I’m sure you like this, you filthy cumslut. Getting me to fill you up,” 

His words made her face flush as she continued her momentum. Y/N looked down, taken aback at the sordid site before her. Spencer caught on, snaking his hand around the base of her throat forcing her to watch every time he disappeared inside her. 

“You-you’re so deep.” She moaned. She tried to come up with something else to say, but from the way Spencer’s hands dictated her movements and his words left bruising thumbprints against her mind, she was a puddle lacking any form of resolve. “You fill me up so good, so full.” 

She felt the familiar feeling of warmth and impatience build inside her body, threatening to release untamed and relentless. Spencer's thumb and index finger circled her clit, bringing her closer and closer to release. His hand gripped her jaw, forcing her face to morph into a look of bewilderment. 

“Come on pretty girl, let daddy see your tongue.” He requested, chuckling darkly as she compiled without hesitation. “So fucking greedy.” He added, mostly to himself as their eyes met in the dimly lit backroom. 

Y/N groaned shamelessly as she watched the string of saliva leave Spencer’s mouth and land on her waiting tongue. Spencer took advantage of her moment of deep desire, pressing wet, open mouth kisses to her espoused throat. She could feel his hot mouth and sharp teeth suck and scrap against her pulse points. His ministrations made her yelp with pleasure, which, in turn earned a confident smirk from Spencer. 

“That feels good doesn't it, sweet thing?” Spencer tutted, “You ready to come on my cock? Hmm..” 

The world, their little world filled with antique lamps that casted a warm yellow light and used books from floor to ceiling, grew fussy around the edges as Spencer’s hands and tongue and lips and just about everything about him drove her completely mad. She felt her release come, she felt the high build and build until her legs felt like uncaptured Jello and her throat raw from holding in the noises she stifled.

“That’s it. That’s how a good girl comes fucking herself silly on my cock.” Spencer said, his voice raspier than before, a hint that he too was reaching his climax. She took it upon herself to help Spencer reach that high faster than he may have anticipated. Holding him by the waist, Y/N planted kisses along Spencer’s jawbone, revealing how his blush matched the pink lipstick that rubbed off on his face. His eyes were heavy with pleasure and his breathy moans threatened to make her beg for another orgasm, even if she knew he’d split her in half if she asked. 

“You’re so….you fill me up so good, daddy.” She encouraged her sweet, saccharine voice pushing Spencer further and further to his release. “Daddy fucks me so well, he’s going to make me a mommy.” 

“You’re a little minx, you know that right?” Spencer smirked, his thrusts completely calculated as Y/N returned the cocky look. “So fucking greedy for me to come into my pussy. You’ll say anything to get your way.” 

“Don’t you want to see my pussy dripping with your cum?” Y/N asked, her skin unbearably hot and sweaty pressed up against Spencer’s torso. His hands pawed at her breasts, exploring the softness of her body with the tenderness of a devout man. “Don’t you want to fuck it back into me, making sure there’s not a drop leftover?” 

Stunned into silence, Spencer’s mouth hung open much to Y/N’s enjoyment. He let out a guttural groan as she continued to bounce up and down on his cock, clearly chasing another orgasm. Spencer looked up grinning like the devil, a sign to Y/N that he wasn’t going to take it easy on her. He held himself deep inside her, casting circles around and around her clit. She bit her lip, attempting to contain her pleasure.  

“If you’re going to act like a greedy fucking whore, I’m goint to treat you like a greedy fucking whore. You can give me one more, can’t you?” 

She knew it was impossible, she knew it was a little fantastical to think so, but it was like time, for a moment simply stopped. All she felt was the burn of her exhausted muscles, Spencer’s soft, yet strong thighs against her skin, his hands burrowing so deep into her hip she thought he might just disappear all together. He kissed. Once. Twice. Thrice. Many times. So many times that she lost count. 

Y/N held her breath, observing with reverence as the tension built till it could no longer handle the inevitable crash. Spencer’s hair, unruly and sweaty, stuck to his forehead. With a moan half crazed with desire half laden with arousal is like an electric shock to her entire system. She whispers words that she knew would make him swat at her ass if he wasn’t carried away by pleasure and bliss. 

“That’s it, daddy. Filling me up so good.” 

Spencer placed his hand on her lower stomach as if he could feel himself through her. His calloused thumbs drew stars against her skin, marking the vulnerable spots of her body as something beautiful, something deserving of tenderness. 

“Fucking hell–” 

Her breath hitched in her throat, caught off when she felt the warmth spreading between their bodies. It was like gentle waves from the ocean that lapped the soft sand. Y/N’s body slumped forward against Spencer. Exhaustion flooded her limbs, making them feel numb. Spencer’s deep chuckle vibrated against her chest as they laid in the chair together, a pile of twisted limbs and muscles fated to be sore by morning. 

“You alright?” Spencer asked, “Let me help you clean up. You put washcloths in the bathroom last week, right?” 

“Yeah.” Y/N mumbled, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath that ricocheted off her lips to Spencer’s heart. “I just wanna cuddle my husband for a minute before he’s off cleaning up a mess. But I know. Germs. Even if they’re my germs.” 

“You know me too well.” Spencer deadpanned. The silence filling up the room in a way that said more than words ever could attempt to. 

He helped Y/N to her feet, biting his lips with worry as she winced when she stood. His worry continued as he guided her to the chair he sat at moments before. 

“Right back.” Spencer said, kissing the top of her head as he adjusted his pants and scooped up her clothes. 

He disappeared into the tiny bathroom and Y/N knew him well enough to read the nervousness in his gait. She decided to fix her hair, thinking that she probably looked like she’d be through the ringer, which of course was Spencer’s doing. Even if she enjoyed their more salacious encounters, she knew they usually ended with Spencer dealing with feelings of guilt and worry. 

“And you called me a nerd for bringing PJs to change into.” He walked out from the bathroom, carrying two piles of pajamas in one hand and a wet washcloth in the other. 

“No, my sweet husband. I called you an old man for bringing PJs and a nerd for wanting roleplay by lecturing me about quantum physics.” 

Spencer’s tight-lipped smile broke out into something so goofy and charming, it was hard for Y/N to remain composure. She grabbed Spencer’s hand as he cleaned her inner thighs, bringing his palm to rest against her cheek. 

“I love you.” 

Spencer kissed her once on the middle of her forehead. Two times on each cheek. And then three times on her lips. 

“You’re not a cockslut. Or whatever I called. I–I’m sorry if I got carried away. It’s just. I’m still exploring that part of myself. And with what I see at–” 

“Spencer.” Y/N interjected, wincing because she could hardly remember a time when she interrupted him. She knew he hated that. “Listen to me when I say: I really liked it. I was so into it. It’s hot seeing this side of you. Everyone else gets Dr. Reid the agent. Or Spencer the sweet nerd with sweater vests. But, somehow, I get all the sides of you.”

Spencer nodded, taking in the silence that hung in the air. 

“Besides,” she whispered, getting closer to Spencer though they were the only two people in the store at that hour, “I am a cockslut. Your cockslut.”

Spencer’s lips twitched into an unwilling smile, “Y/N.” He sounded half distressed, half aroused.

And she decided that keeping him on his toes in more than one way was exactly what she wanted for their marriage. 

@reidslovely @reidsbookclub @spencerreidat3am @fightingdragonswithwho @reidslibrarybook @hotchandspencearedilfs @sadgirlml @spencerslibrary @foxy-eva @paperbackprettyboy @alexxavicry @justlivinginadaydream @reidsmilf @mrs-dr-reid @spencer-reid-wonderland @spencerreidsmommy

[lordfrezon]

1000xRESIST

9/10

Short review: 1000xRESIST is a walking simulator/mild puzzle game that deals with a lot of very cool and very relevant themes. Visually, it does a lot with a minimal budget, with a very strong style and some exceptionally strong moments. Soundtrack is quite good. Characters are excellent. Game takes about 8-10 hours. If you are at all interested in themes of parent/child relationships and authoritarianism, high recommend, and just a general recommend to everyone in general. It deals with a lot of very powerful ideas and concepts but it handles them quite well. It’s best played with minimal knowledge of what happens so as to preserve some very cool “oh. OH.” Moments (and those that know me know I generally am very pro-spoiler) so if this sounds like your jam, get it and enjoy.

Longer review:

Some of you won’t be satisfied with just that, so this is for you. Unlike most things I recommend I really do think 1000xRESIST is best enjoyed without much foreknowledge, so I’ll be presenting the game in as few details as possible at first, with more details to come if you still need them.

---

1000xRESIST is a game that starts with your character, Watcher, stabbing her mother, a woman named Iris, through the back. You then talk to yourself, with you telling you to review your life because of your decisions.

---

1000xRESIST is a game about a society hundreds of years after the collapse of humanity, where an alien race spread a virus that wiped out all of the species save for one woman, the Allmother, Iris, who cloned herself and whose clones are all that remains of the species, as they work to find a way to defeat the alien threat and return to the surface of Earth.

---

1000xRESIST is a game about making bad decisions because you’re just human and you can’t figure out what’s the best situation in a short amount of time or because you’re angry at someone or because the good decision is going to be hard, especially since the decision revolves around your parent or your child.

---

1000xRESIST is a game that gets formatted much like how I’ve written this so far.

---

1000xRESIST is a game about memory and what it means to lose it, about how easily memories can be changed, about how dangerous memories can be for people yet how despite the danger sometimes what is necessary is the spread of memories from past to future.

---

1000xRESIST is a game about immigrants from China, fleeing persecution in the 21st century, dealing with the consequences of their actions and trying to raise their daughter to understand what they gave up and why it’s important for her to be strong.

---

1000xRESIST is a game about fighting oppressive systems only for more oppression to be the only result. It’s a game where your decisions in the present mirror the mistakes of the past and are doomed to repeat in the future. It’s a game where despite all this, the only choice is to keep moving forward and to do the best you can.

---

1000xRESIST is a game about Covid, about non-human intelligence, about authoritarianism, about the morality of cloning, about mental health, about what it means to be immortal, about regime change, about becoming a god, about various paths for revolution, about terrorism. It’s a fascinating piece of art that juggles so many moving pieces and almost drops them but in the end, resolves them in a compelling and poignant way.

[cru5h-cascades]

With Side Order basically 3 days away at this point (the dlc's releasing on the 21st at 7 PM CST), there's just one more thing I wanna talk about when it comes to speculation (well not really speculation it's more so just me hoping this will happen):

PLEASE LET THE PROFESSOR WHO OWNED JUDD AND MADE TARTAR HAVE SOME SORT OF SIGNIFICANCE TO THE STORY. LIKE A MAJOR ROLE.

Like I have this one idea sort of similar to @lbodraws' Villain Agent 4 AU (with their interpretation of the villain of Side Order, G.H.O.S.T., an AI made to store human consiousness that basically decided to do its own thing after not being given the order to awaken the humans whose consiouses they were storing) where basically the professor had a plan B for himself since he didn't make himself immortal like Judd, the plan being that if he died in cryogenic preservation he'd have his mind transfered into a computer program in order to live on in some way. However, something goes wrong and the professor's digital world is overidden by whoever created the Order Sector. The professor gets his files compressed or whatever and they get put into a special area on the top of the tower so he's under close surveilance, however he keeps on trying to fight back in a few ways, with the main one being creating the voids in the spire.

To be honest, I'd love to see both a villain Marina and Lil' Judd in the DLC alongside the professor as well, so this is how I kind of see the final boss being like if all three of these guys had a role to play in the DLC:

Phase 1: Marina (the misguided antagonist): Marina is under the influence of another being (weither it be by brainwashing or by other means) and it's Agent 8's job to snap Marina out of it. Marina would use all sorts of modified specials and inventions against Eight during the fight (also basically this fight would sort of be like a parody of the Splatoon 2 final boss since RotM also had that with DJ Octavio at the begining). After finishing this phase of the fight, Marina regains control of herself, we get some dialoge, and then we get the reveal of the true villain of Side Order...

Phase 2 & 3: Lil' Judd (the real big bad): Lil' Judd goes on a monolouge about why he did what he did and how (basically he ended up getting Marina to unknowingly unleash the Order Sector onto the world to help Lil' Judd achive his ultimate objective: to be the only Judd left standing or something like that) and then the next 2 phases of the fight happen I guess. After beating up Lil' Judd, the professor decompresses his own files now that Lil' Judd isn't able to control the Order Sector, at least for now, and decides to raise hell onto everyone in the room, leading us to the next phase of the fight...

Phase 4: the professor (one of many victims of Lil' Judd): Blinded by rage, the professor gets this corrupted form of sorts where he's all glitchy and stuff. The professor, beliving that the Side Order crew is working with Lil' Judd, attempts to attack our protagonists, only for Eight to defend everyone. The professor will use various tricks to distract the player so he can kill them and will spare the player no mercy during the fight. It isn't until the layer finally shoots at the professor enough that he comes to his senses and realizes what's going on and stops fighting. We get some dialoge at the end of the fight or something and then the Order Sector appears to be falling appart due to the professor messing around with the code too much during the fight, so he urges the Side Order crew to get out of the spire before they're trapped in an infinate void forever. The professor opens a portal to the real Inkopolis Square outside of the spire and then I guess the final phase of the final boss happens where you need to take the emergency exit out of the spire to get to the portal in a set amount of time. The professor stays behind to keep the Order Sector up and running so he doesn't die or whatever.

And that's all I really got for what could happen if the professor was involved in Side Order. If you couldn't tell already, this is a super rough idea of what could happen if this was the case because this is just me hoping this happens. Anyways, I kinda doubt that the professor will actually even be mentioned in Side Order ('cause that guy just has to be one of the most minor characters in Splatoon) (but then again dedf1sh made it into the DLC and has a huge role in it so maybe it can happen with this guy too), but hey I guess we'll just have to find out in three days, am I right?

[mango-jpeg]

anticipation, then flesh notes

i made a full outline for this fic and remembered to preserve a copy, so that's tacked on at the end

worked on this for about two weeks (~19th to ~1st)

not totally sure why this pairing occurred to me rn but 1) needed a break from pwp 2) enjoyed the peaceful tone of Baizhu’s character stories

also, embarrassing to notice, but ever since i started writing fic i write something sappy about getting/being married around my birthday... whatever could it mean.......

i’ve always been into this pairing but wanted to wait to know more about Baizhu before writing.. just didn’t think it would take years for him to become playable lol..

wanted to write something funny and short so landed on the old engagement plot. almost immediately wrote the widower line and had to walk that back lmao 

wrote the coal miner bit bc i had the thought that i needed a bit more background on the relationship. i liked it but had to work hard to find a way to fit it in

now whenever i write these asides i think You're Doing It Again.. addicted to narrative breaks.....

title from a short history of the apple, not for any particular reason. previous title didn't quite work, and i thought something to do with apples would be better

reading

I Was Told There'd Be Cake, and Cult Classic, both by Sloan Crosley

some persona 5 pwps

this is the first (and only) outline i made, what i'd call the first 'draft' (since i don't really do drafts). the starting point of a fic usually looks something like this - then i write over it as i go. almost 100% of the time i start with dialogue

full outline:

and there you go again, stopping just as things are heating up. huh— wh— while i am fully aware there are no adverse physical effects of— what’s that quaint term the youth use?— being blue balled, as it were. But i didn’t take you to be such a tease Gui. Gui is so, so red. Dr.— I, i mean— just what does a man have to do to get his cock sucked around here? gui flusters. then: you’re going to laugh at me. i promise to do my best to keep my amusement private, gui. i always… i [wanted to wait until after marriage] … oh. baizhu says. that’s not funny at all, turns out.

there are two reasons why people get married. and they are? taxes and children, baizhu answers promptly, since we cannot have children it hardly seems relevant

besides, you’re already entitled to half my wealth in my will, so-- excuse me? didn’t i tell you? no? well, half my property and assets go directly to you. He takes a second look at Gui’s expression and feels compelled to add, if that doesn’t seem like enough i could try to increase it, only, i want to leave enough to ensure Qiqi— gui grabs him by the shoulders. i’m the primary beneficiary in your will? of course you are. Baizhu has never known Gui to be prone to dramatics, but perhaps he was just saving it up for this moment. Gui buries both hands in his hair and makes an anguished sound as he turns away, yanking at his hair. 

there’s another reason, gui says.  what’s that? another reason people get married. his expression is set. baizhu looks away. oh, that. i don’t put much stock in sentiment. a long pause, then Gui puts his face next to Baizhu’s and whispers right into his ear; Liar.

gui out delivering medicine to old folks goes upstairs to “talk to” old lady neighbour she swears is being loud (no one lives there) talks to door about his problems

back at pharmacy Chengsheng gives Baizhu a hard time ch - fine. since you’re going to be morbid about it baizhu - to marry is to make Gui a widower ch - yes and?? don’t you see if you leave things as they are there will be no word for what you were to him except employer? that no one will understand his mourning? there is no easy way to grieve but you could at least give him the dignity of acknowledging what you mean to him. baizhu- … baizhu - also i will find the secret to immortality ch - yes, yes. that too

gui doesn’t return to pharmacy baizhu goes out looking for him after dinner - he’s not at home with his family. they try to invite him in for tea but he demurs  wanders around - it’s foggy / a light rain

in the morning baizhu feels a little fuzzy but gui is back  acting normal / professional (gui went to funeral parlour to get his will drawn up)

baizhu is beginning to come down with a cold.  don’t— you’ll catch it. baizhu, gui says, solemnly, i am going to suck your cock. i will do it as long as it takes to learn what you like best.  ah. this is called compromise, and it means you’re going to have to be okay with maybe giving me your cold.

props baizhu up on some pillows so he can breathe well. makes him hold onto the bars of the headboard. 

baizhu grabs Gui’s hair at one point and he stops. Hands on the bars. Gui— Gui looks up at him. His face is red all the way to his hairline, his mouth swollen and wet. the twist of his lips is nervous, but his gaze set. Baizhu’s cock jumps in his hand.  Hands on the bars, please. Baizhu does as he’s told.

[snow-system-wol]

S'ria can't do anything to truly help him, but he does his best to look after G'raha after his collapse. Once G'raha is awake, they take a moment to talk -- and establish new promises that might not be possible to keep.

Ao3

Despite having no clear solution as the Tower quickly began to shake apart under them, S'ria didn't expect to die. It wasn't that he thought himself immortal, very far from it, but rather that it just didn't seem like a place that things could end. So many entities in the world had a plan for Hydaelyn's Champion. It just felt as if he'd know when his time would be up.

And, in a more morbid train of thought, S'ria thought Fandaniel may have intervened to keep him alive, if only to preserve the meeting in Garlemald that Zenos clamored for. Certainly just him, though, none of the other Scions.

It is a welcome surprise to open his eyes and find himself nearly unharmed, laying on the ground where the tower was – and an even more welcome one to realize that his friends seemed none the worse for wear.

Well. S'ria was still scanning for G'raha.

It wasn't immediately alarming that he was found unconscious as S'ria recalled the same had happened to him. However, G'raha didn't wake.

He tried not to panic at least – Krile was sure he'd be fine, nothing irreversible, just completely drained.

S'ria felt – well, … it was a complicated mix.

Upon truly realizing the scale of it, it was impossible not to feel awestruck at what G'raha had pulled off. And his kindness, unable to be stifled even when there was already so much to worry about – S'ria imagined G'raha's spell seeking out every last soul in the tower and holding onto them, refusing to miss a single one of them. He could hardly explain what that made him feel and put that properly into words, emotions were difficult, but it was surely some type of love.

Of course, that didn't mean he was entirely pleased. No one was going to say anything unnecessary without prompting, but S'ria had half a mind to ask Krile or Y'shtola precisely how close G'raha was flying to the sun. Perhaps if there were even just a few more people there to reach out to, that would've been the line where G'raha's magic would need to cannibalize parts of his own life force to follow through – self-sacrificial to a damned fault.

It didn't happen, though, that was the important part S'ria needed to focus on. For the moment at least.

And how could S'ria possibly be mad at G'raha later? He would never have suggested G'raha do anything differently and everyone deserved to be saved – there was nothing to actually criticize.

S'ria was eager to get G'raha somewhere a touch more comfortable than the ground, even if he may not wake immediately. As things were, S'ria had already sat on the ground and shifted G'raha's head onto his legs. The now barren island was no place to treat him, though, nor anyone else here.

Varshahn sounded impressed and thankful with all of them, for how unexpected their complete success was. S'ria grappled with whether he should clarify that G'raha was the one who kept all of his people alive, or whether it would be dangerous for all else present to know what G'raha was capable of. Besides, S'ria expected one such as Vrtra may already know what had happened here, as well-attuned as dragons seemed to be and how keen their senses were at times.

Varshahn was making arrangements for the care, treatment, and transport of the Arkasodara – a task which S'ria knew he'd be of little help in. To be quite honest, he was unsure if he could even handle the far smaller burden he intended to take on, but he was loath to accept doing otherwise.

S'ria shifted into a kneel and pulled G'raha into his arms, resting his body across his legs while getting a sense of his weight. Thancred and Estinien both immediately turned to him, likely having assumed that G'raha would be one of their responsibilities. S'ria was… not weak, but he lacked the type of endurance and consistent strength both of them could manage. Thancred looked hesitant.

"S'ria, are you certain that this is the best –"

"Yes."

S'ria could admit that it was maybe a bit irrational of him to insist on this – and maybe safer for G'raha to have someone who could carry him more easily – but S'ria was certain that he could. He would not drop G'raha.

The fierce near-protectiveness he felt – was that the difference between something platonic and something romantic? It seemed an odd and unkind line to draw between types of bonds… but, no, S'ria recalled when Gaius had appeared with Alphinaud and how he'd been unable to breathe until Alphinaud had been safely transferred into his own arms. This was simply how he reacted with a select few people, it would appear. That made sense to him.

S'ria wondered how it looked to Thancred – like something sweet or something idiotic.

S'ria's legs protested being straightened with the added burden, drawing himself to his full height cautiously. He got G'raha settled more comfortably against his chest. Pulling him in as tightly as possible slightly lessened the strain on his arms. S'ria would not pretend that G'raha was easy for him to carry, though the short distance back to the boat proved to be very manageable (even if S'ria hid a sigh of relief upon settling down for the short sail back to shore.)

Returning to the Great Work, the easiest place to look after G'raha for a moment, was less easy. S'ria's arms and lungs both ached by the time they drew near and Thancred had begun to hover, deciding between whether offering help was appropriate or not. S'ria shifted G'raha again and continued walking, pointedly, certain of his ability to finish the trip.

The way one arm wrapped under G'raha's back and the other fit behind his knees, though burdensome, had grown familiar. At some point, perhaps in the aftermath of casting the spell, the clips had been knocked out of his hair. S'ria wished he had a hand free to brush G'raha's bangs out of his face, even if it wouldn't matter in his current state. S'ria would do that once he had some place proper to lay G'raha down, perhaps dig through his own bag to see if he had any hair pins to replace the missing ones with.

Once G'raha was gently placed onto a bed and the adrenaline started to leave S'ria's body, he nearly collapsed in exhaustion by G'raha's bedside himself. He managed to save his dignity by dropping heavily into a nearby chair instead. 

S'ria had been rather clear on the point, "I shall catch up with the rest of you when he is awake", but he hoped G'raha would not remain unconscious for long enough to scare him.

Much to S'ria's relief, it was not too long at all. G'raha's eyes fluttered open with a grimace and S'ria finally relaxed. G'raha's eyes focused enough to snap onto him and he smiled, before it shifted to something a touch more nervous.

"Ria… you are unharmed?"

"Should you really be the one asking me that? I'm fine, no one was majorly harmed – which we can thank you for." S'ria smiled at him. "They're preparing to treat the tempered as quickly as possible."

"Ah, good. I did not know if I had managed in time." G'raha broke eye contact with him. "I am sorry – that barely worked, and it was risky, and I did not know it would take so much from me. I did not intend to somewhat break my promise to you."

S'ria spent several seconds grappling with how he wanted to respond. He both wanted the apology and wanted to tell G'raha no apology was needed – because it had been a necessary thing, but it was also a terrifying stunt to pull. The simplest answer S'ria settled on was just leaning down to kiss G'raha, gently but lingering a few moments longer than was necessary to prove his point.

G'raha cleared his throat once S'ria pulled back. "I have no complaints, but… I have only just regained consciousness – mayhap causing my heart to race is not medically advisable."

It was said with a hint of a joke, but S'ria's face remained intense.

"If you were serious about apologizing for doing something self-sacrificial again, make a new promise with me."

"Of course, anything. What is it?"

"But–".

S'ria immediately made a face at him agreeing before even hearing the request. "I do not disagree with what you did today – but if there is any sort of next time, I am freely offering my own aether for your use as well."

"You said anything. I am very serious, I am asking you to share the burden instead of putting your life at risk again. Please, promise me." S'ria's knuckles had gone white where he held onto the edge of the bed.

G'raha hesitated for far longer than S'ria would've liked. "Okay. I promise. But I would ask something of you in return." S'ria nodded and waited for G'raha to continue. "This is not St. Coinach's Find anymore. Do not leave me behind or, barring that, do not take it upon yourself to fight by yourself."

S'ria's face fell. "Raha…"

"I mean it. Don't you dare go off and die alone."

"I-I'll… promise as well as I can." S'ria caught himself pulling apart loose threads at the edge of his sleeve cuff and settled his hands firmly on his legs. "You know what happens is often beyond my control. Things happen too fast or I'm spirited away from the rest of you all or I'm told no one may accompany me… but I promise I won't do it on purpose."

"I am sorry. That does little to assuage my fears, but thank you for at least giving me that much. Maybe someday the world will be… different, and we both shan't need to worry so much."

S'ria gently squeezed his hand. "Maybe. But we need to save this world first for that to ever come to pass. We'll be okay." There was a notable lack of promising anything in that last statement and S'ria's smile didn't feel fully genuine. "I need to go let a medic know that you're awake, I'll be right back and then we can get you on your feet again."

----------

Within the same bell, Vrtra would warn S'ria very solemnly to "spare no effort to keep thy loved ones safe." It need not have been said – S'ria would never have done otherwise.

[lonely-lost-soul]

Of Immortality and Nymphs

(Philza Minecraft x Reader)

Request 2: Just c!philza simping over reader!!

Requested by: Anonymous 

(Okay maybe I got a little carried away with this one...) 

~~~

     He met her for the first time when he was a young man, who barely understood the world around him. Messing with things he shouldn’t was his specialty so when he heard there used to be Nymphs in the nearby forests, he just had to find out if they were extinct or not. Phil flipped through his worn journal and tapped his quill on the paper, he wanted to document his journey to finding the supposedly mythical creature. After all, this was one of his first real adventures all by himself he wouldn’t accept any form of defeat. He popped the cork off the invisibility potion he had and downed it with one swig. Phil, now hidden, wandered into the forest of the last known location, of the last recorded Nymph. Not being visible to the creatures in the forest allowed Phil to take in the beauty of nature around him, he could get close to the animals and see them in their natural habitat. The forest was beautiful, sunlight peeking in through the leaves of the trees, it was magical. He placed his hand on the trees running his hand over the bark with a smile, Phil heard a soft twinkling in his ear, and his head shot up. Always trigger happy he put his hand on his sword, in the middle of a nearby clearing stood a beautiful woman with gorgeous (h/c) hair. Flowers and leaves seemed to be interwoven within the strands, her ears were elf-like in appearance adorned with gold piercings. Her dress flowed in the wind, it was a soft almost translucent green decorated with leaves, in her hand was a baby chick. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, it was clear she was the Nymph that the old stories were talking about, thank god for the invisibility potion. 

Pulling out his journal once more he began to sketch a picture of the elegant woman, he didn’t want to forget her face. The man looked up once more to finish up the sketch and the Nymph was gone, he frowned sadly, he did hope he could get to talk to her. 

     “What’re you drawing?” Phil snapped his notebook shut letting out a startled yelp, he turned to look at the figure beside him. The potion must’ve worn off when he wasn’t looking, however beside him was said Nymph. His jaw almost dropped open, did she have no self-preservation? “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you!” She stepped a few steps back and he held out his arm to stop her. 

     “No! No, you’re alright!” He put his hand to his heart, “I’m Phil. and you are?” 

     “(Y/n). Are you human?” 

     “Tragically,” Phil gave her a little smile as she tilted her head curiously. “Are you a Nymph?” You looked a little hesitant, he watched as your ears twitched in an undeniably cute way. He felt himself melt a little as you gave a nod, 

     “A Meliae if you want to get specific,” you smiled fondly giving him a teasing wink. Opening his notebook again he scribbled that down next to the figure drawing of you, you sat down in front of him watching in awe, “Is that your language’s written system?” Looking back up at her curious expression Phil once again felt his heartbeat speed up in his chest. 

     “It is. You’re very clever,” He hummed and was delighted in the way you flushed up to the tips of your ears. You waved him off, 

     “I’m not that clever. When you’ve been around as long as I have you pick up on certain things,” He watched you carefully as you sat down beside him resting on your knees. Curiously Phil tilted his head,

     “How long have you been around?”

     “Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a woman her age?” She shot back a grin on her features, oh Phil was in love. Nymphs did tend to have that effect on people, people fall hard and fast for them, but Phil didn’t care. 

     “My apologies, that was rude of me huh?”

     “Very.” She teased with a snicker, “I’ve honestly lost count at this point.” 

     “You’ve lost track? So you’re immortal then?” Phil’s entire face lit up the excitement prevalent on his features, “Tell me everything.” He pleaded, with a soft laugh you began to share your tale with the man in front of you. Phil was enamored she had lived more lifetimes than he could begin to comprehend, what he wouldn’t do to have that gift. The duo talked long into the evening and well into the next morning, Phil knew he had to head home soon. Not that he had anyone waiting for him back home, but he couldn’t stay with her forever as much as he wanted to. “When can I see you again?” He whispered taking your hands within his own, he couldn’t help but notice how soft they were for someone living in a forest. You hesitantly pressed your finger to his earring, 

     “They’ll start to glow whenever I’m near. So you can always find me,” You whispered cupping his cheek in your hand, he felt himself lean into it. “I’ll see you soon Phil,” You leaned forward pressing a tender kiss to his lips before disappearing in a flurry of flowers and leaves. Phil let out a shaky breath bringing his fingers to his lips a wild smile appearing across them. He opened his journal one last time adding ‘great kissers’ to his list of things about the Nymph of the forest. 

They met many more times after that, and with each meeting, Phil only fell more and more in love with her. He wanted to protect you and keep you safe especially after telling him that Nymphs were hunted for their tears that give immortality but now without the expense of the Nymph. Yet even with his pleading, you wouldn’t leave the forest you called home. You told him maybe one day you could, but you were the only Nymph protecting the forest and you had to stay to protect your home. Ever the gentleman Phil would drop the conversation and steer it into another direction said direction ended with a lot of kissing. 

As the years flew by Phil found himself growing older and you remaining the same and as beautiful as ever, he wanted to be immortal with you. He never wanted to lose you, so he made a deal with the God of undying, sacrificing his three lives for one immortal life so he could remain by your side forever. He’d also have to give up part of his humanity, he was bestowed giant black crow-like wings. But he’d do anything so long as he got to be by your side for the rest of eternity. Phil didn’t want to tell you at first, afraid you’d be mad but it was hard to hide giant black wings and the man could never stay far away from you. When he finally saw you again you knew what went down practically immediately. Surprisingly you took it much better than he originally thought, you seemed to flattered beyond belief but also pissed as hell. Desperately you tried to explain to him that immortality wasn’t a gift but a curse, seeing the world change around you while you stay young forever wasn’t as fun as it sounded. The man scoffed, shooting back a comment of his own about how he didn’t want to imagine a world without you by his side. You didn’t deserve to lose someone you loved just because they were mortal and he stood by that.

He watched your face scrunch up, cheeks turning pink at his sentiment. Mostly because you were melting around his words and he knew it too by the smirk evident on his features. Phil locked eyes with you and smiled endearingly, 

     “I love you.” 

     “I’m pregnant.” 

     “Fucking what-” He choked on his spit any argument that started before fizzled out the minute you had told you said those two words to him. He felt his features morphed in surprise before wrapping you in a tight suffocating hug. That only solidified his choices, he made the right decision, he needed to stay by you and your child’s side so long as the universe allowed him to. 

However, things weren’t all peaches and rainbows as the world changed to a dark and dismal place once more. Forests were being burned and destroyed and humans once again discovered the existence of Nymphs and wanted to hunt them down for sport. Things were dangerous, way too dangerous for you and the newborn son you shared with Phil. Reluctantly you and Phil came to a decision, to protect your baby you needed to leave, it was the only way to keep them safe. You held the baby close to your chest, tears swelling in your eyes as Phil kissed your cheeks trying to shush you softly. “It’s alright…” His voice was gentle, his big hand caressing the boy’s chocolate brown curls. 

     “It’s not alright. Phil...I don’t wanna leave you or Wilbur.” Your voice quivered and Phil’s heart shattered in pieces, “But his safety comes first.” You brought the baby up to your lips and kissed his forehead, he giggled sweetly trying to squish his mother’s cheeks. You laughed as he did so, “My sweet, lovely boy. I’ll have to leave you for a while, I don’t want to but you need to be kept safe. I…” Phil frowned watching as you choked up once more, “I’m not safe.” Even through your tears, Phil thought you were beautiful, “You can’t tell him about me…” 

     “(Y/n) I can’t- That’s just not fair-” You shushed him with a kiss to his lips, passing Wilbur off to him. 

     “If he’s anything like his father he’ll lose his mind searching for his mother. He needs to live his life.” You reached up holding Phil’s chin on your pointer finger, “He has to live life to its fullest, Nothing can hold him back. It has to stay this way until I can come back. Which I will...hopefully it won’t be too long.” You smiled up at him and Phil took in a shaky breath, 

     “What if I ruin him.” His voice was painfully tight holding his grip on Wilbur tightening as well, it made the baby squirm. You shushed him softly, pressing a kiss to his lips, his scruff tickling your chin. To him the kisses always felt electric, never devoid of passion and adoration, he leaned forward to chase those addicting lips as you pulled away. 

     “You won’t ruin him, you’re the most gentle and kind man I’ve ever met. You took care of me all these years, you’ll be amazing for Wilby.” Phil watched as you kissed Wilbur one last time before stepping away with a shaky breath. “Just be as good to him as you are to me,” You both heard the crunch of leaves, it caused you to jump a little looking around the forest frantically. 

     “Go. We’ll be fine. Just stay safe and come back to us okay?” You could only nod at him before disappearing in a gust of leaves and flowers. Phil felt his heartache and he jolted as Wilbur began to cry seemingly already missing the presence of his mother. “Oh Wilbur hush, hush for me please,” His father pleaded as he began to rock him gently this was going to be a lot harder than he would ever anticipate, but to keep you safe he’d give up the entire world. 

~~~

Decades went by, Phil had not only Wilbur to watch over but three more idiotic kids, others adopted of course. Wilbur had grown up into a strapping young man, got married, and had a son, you would be so proud of him. You’d spoil Fundy rotten, he just knew you would, he was sure you’d also spoil Tommy and Tubbo. Not to mention you’d force your motherly affection all over Technoblade and he wouldn’t have a choice but to open up to you. 

However, none of them even knew you existed, lies were told about who Wilbur’s mother was when any of them asked and it killed him on the inside to lie about you. Eventually, Wilbur just stopped asking, most likely assuming something bad happened that Phil never wanted to discuss with him. Something far too painful to even tell his son about,

 Which was half right he supposed. 

It started like any other day, Tommy and Wilbur were messing around with Dream, something about discs and war that Phil didn’t particularly care about. Wilbur had come over once again to plead with Phil for aid in the war, but once again he refused him. This time he even brought Fundy along thinking that seeing his grandson might change the older man’s mind. However, he still refused knowing it wasn’t going to end well in the long run even if Wilbur did win. Sometimes kids had to make their own mistakes to learn about the future. It’s not like he hadn’t told Wil it wouldn’t end well, he did multiple times, but the kid was just as stubborn as he was and wasn’t going to back down. 

“Dad, please. If you’d just join in we’d slay Dream and his team, all the fighting will come to an end. The nation I’m trying to create would finally be free and safe. Just help me.” Wilbur pleaded, a small whine slipping into his voice as he followed Phil and his son into the forest, “We can establish our new nation and be free from tyranny. No more war, isn’t that what you keep advocating for?” Wilbur continued to rant, not helping at all with his chores, his voice grew soft suddenly, and Fundy grabbed onto the sleeve of his jacket. 

     “What is it, kid?”

     “Your earring’s glowing pops.” Fundy pointed to his ear and Phil froze in place the wood that he collected falling out of his hands, scattering all over the forest floor.

     “Dad?” Wilbur repeated his voice growing louder in concern, Phil looked around the clearing frantically before bolting in a random direction. 

     “Grandpa!?” Fundy yelled chasing off after him, his tail puffing up anxiously, 

     “Fundy don’t just run off!” 

Phil didn’t stick around to hear them, you were around here somewhere the question was where. His heart was beating erratically in his chest, please, please god let him find you. He didn’t have to wait long, he’d recognize you anywhere you still looked the same. Standing in the middle of a flower field you looked over your shoulder, “(Y/n)! Darling!” He called out choking a little on his words, your (e/c) eyes blew wide and he heard you laugh. You ran up to him flowers growing in your wake, you launched himself at the man and he lifted you in his arms. He spun you around laughing in disbelief, using his wings you both floated in the air, he cradled the back of your head with his hand, “I can’t believe you’re here.” Phil whispered, pulling away to cup your cheeks with your hands, “you’re real.”

     “Of course I’m here silly goose. I told you I’d come back didn’t I?” You laughed fondly as he began to pepper your face in kisses, “Even if it is way later than I intended…” You trailed off with a small wince, 

     “Who cares. You’re here now and you’re safe.” He landed a kiss on your lips as you kissed him back. You tasted just as he remembered like fresh air and oranges, he wanted to swallow you whole. He never wanted to let you go again, and he never would if he had a say in the matter. 

      “Dad? What the fuck?” Wilbur blurted as Fundy and he came upon the clearing, you pulled away from Phil. Tears filling your eyes, your hands coming up to cover your mouth, Phil rested a hand on the small of your back. 

     “Wilby…” She whispered, stumbling towards the man reaching out towards him, he raised an eyebrow and flinched away from your touch. You pulled your hand back taking a little breath,

     “I’m sorry. How do you know my name?” From behind you, Phil flinched; he knew that’s what you wanted, for him not to remember you. But, fuck he felt guilty about it, he was about to feel even more guilty in a minute. 

     “She’s your mom Wilbur.” 

     “Fucking WHAT.” Wilbur sputtered taking a few steps back from the woman, “You told me my mom was a fridge!”

     “You told him what.” You turned towards Phil, eyes blazing with annoyance, he held his hands up in surrender. “Why would you tell him his mother was a fridge! I know I told you to lie but a fridge! Phil that’s not even physically possible!” You scolded the man crossing your arms over your chest, his face flushed a bright red. He even missed you yelling and scolding him, he was down bad. 

     “(Y/n) I panicked-” Phil started to explain and you cut him off with an eye roll. “I’m sorry okay, I love you.” 

Meanwhile, Wilbur and Fundy looked in between the two adults rapidly as they talked. Both equally shocked and at a loss for words, Wilbur took a step forward and grabbed your wrist. 

     “Please continue your explanation,” He commanded softly, “If you are my mom why did you leave? Why haven’t you been here?” Wilbur frowned as he watched you look away from him, 

     “How much do you know about Nymphs Wilbur?” Wilbur turned bright red and the color reached up onto the tips of his ears, “What?”

“My mom’s a Nymph.” Fundy spoke up in place of Wilbur, “her name’s Sally. I...I’m Wilbur’s son.” He watched your face melt and mouth a broken ‘son?’, Phil noticed and walked up to squeeze your hand. You had missed so much, you hoped you didn’t blame yourself, you and Phil lived too long to live with that many regrets. 

     “What happened to her?” You asked tenderly, 

     “Killed.” Wilbur said bluntly, “by hunters. Don’t worry, I made sure to dispose of them.” 

     “I-I’m so sorry.” You spoke and Wilbur couldn’t help but feel compelled into your arms. Something about you just made him want to melt into your body, he knew Phil was right in the end. You were his mother through and through, I mean the shared pointed ears said enough. 

     “Is that why you left?” Fundy asked walking over to stand beside Wilbur, Fundy’s ears pressing against his head. They both watched you nod and Phil tightened his grip on your arm, you took in another deep breath. His hand moved to wrap securely around your waist, he was here for you. He’d always be here for you.

     “When you were born, the hunters were far worse, there were much more of them. Greater numbers and they sniffed out Nymphs like hunting dogs to a rabbit. I couldn’t keep a newborn baby safe, especially one that was half Nymph...Which probably explains why Fundy’s part fox, he has more Nymph in him.” The fox hybrid seemed to light up at even the inclination that he was special in any way, shape, or form. “It was safer for me to be as far away from the both of you as possible, and I was right considering you grew up into a handsome young man with a family of his own.” You chuckled fondly leaning into Phil’s touch. “But I can understand if you don’t trust me or want to get to know me,” You smiled sadly at the man Fundy spoke up before Wilbur could. 

     “No! We want to get to know you grandma!” He blurted taking your hands in his own, you melted at the adorable way his eyes lit up. You glanced up at Wilbur who Phil totally wasn’t threatening with his eyes, 

     “I…” The man looked hesitant, but as he stared into your warm eyes once more he felt encapsulated within them. His longing for a motherly figure in his lips came back at full force and washed over him like a tidal wave. He had a mother and she was safe and here and willing to come back into his life if he was ready. 

Was he ready? Why did he feel ready?

     “Fuck that hesitance she’s grandma,” You let out a delighted laugh ruffling up Fundy’s hair, his tail wagging elatedly behind him. 

     “Don’t spoil him, love.”

     “Fuck you, I’m spoiling the hell out of my grandson. Gotta make it up to him somehow.” Fundy’s tail only wagged harder as he wrapped you in a tight hug, you hugged him back just as tightly. 

     “Hey, Hey move over champion. I get to hug my mom now.” Wilbur snapped defensively, as Fundy snickered only looking up at him mischievously hugging you tighter. You laughed in delight seeing Wilbur huff, Phil melted against you in relief. Wilbur’s face was scrunching up the exact way you do when you’re pissed, he smiled against the side of your head. Wilbur pushed his son to the side gently and wrapped his arms around you in a hug, he towered over you but couldn’t help but bury his face in your neck. You cooed softly and ran your fingers through his hair, he was gone the moment you did so, melting in your arms completely. 

Without you noticing Phil took a step away from the group just to admire the moment from an outsider’s perspective. For what felt like the hundredth time that hour Phil felt light, he felt like the weight of the world was off his shoulders. Everything was right in the universe again, you were finally holding your not-so-little boy in your arms again after all these years. Even if you did have a fox hanging off you as well, Phil let out a soft chuckle looking at the three with adoration. A long time ago he gave up his mortality and humanity for you, after you left he had pleaded to the gods once more, he swore he would give up anything for just one more day with you by his side. They had ignored his wishes, they knew without a doubt you’d be back in his arms again, and this time he wouldn’t have to give up a single thing. 

~~~

Okay but actually I had so much fun writing this??? Maybe even a Pt. II?

[astaroth1357]

More undateables with a demigod hades mc???

By request, have yourself a part two!! 

Demigod MC Series: Hades Pt. 2 (Un)Dateables Edition!

I will ask that y’all please don't ask for continuations of other gods unless I say it’s okay to do again. This series already fills my inbox something fierce and this is a one-off that I allowed for during the request window.  If I have to make ideas for new gods while continuing a bunch of old MCs, it'll burn me out fast...

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena, Hades Pt. 2

Diavolo

Oh, he has no problem at all hosting a child of the Underworld, hell he even throws them a welcome banquet when he finds out! Hades is a dear friend - and practically a parental figure to him growing up - so he's more than happy to take in one of his children for a year.

Diavolo is actually one of the few people that the MC can talk to about their home with any kind of fondness. Usually when they bring up things like the comforting wailing of the River Coctyus, the brothers will give them weird looks... but Diavolo knows where they're coming from!

He spent numerous summers in the Underworld growing up doing things like pestering Charon on the River Styx or playing games with Cerberus (the other one) in the Asphodel Meadows... His beach house is actually modeled after his childhood summer home in the Isles of Paradise! Really, it can be a lovely place if the gloom doesn't bother you!

So in the spirit of his fond memories, Diavolo really tried to make their time in the Devildom a fun one!... in his maybe trying a little too hard way…  

Poor MC found themselves offered pretty much everything under the moon… Tickets or exclusive passes to different cultural events/festivals, invitations to gala events, and tours of nearly every inch of Hell by the Prince himself - it was… it was a lot for the poor introverted thing…

It didn’t help that Diavolo would have a hard time gauging if they were having any fun due to their naturally melancholic nature, which only pushed him to try harder… He means well, he does. He’s just not the most in touch with what would make an anti-social doom child happy...

It took Barbatos and Lucifer stepping in for the mortal to actually start getting some much needed space and that improved their experience significantly. Sometimes less is more, Dia… Less is more. But they appreciate his efforts anyway.

Barbatos 

Also has a pretty amicable relationship with the Ruler of the Underworld, though his is much more professional compared to Diavolo’s. He actually has a good deal of appreciation for the man for taking good care of the Prince during his visits, so he sees this as an opportunity to return the favor.

Like Diavolo, he’s rather focused on making sure the MC is having a good stay in the Devildom, but he’s much more subtle about it. He’ll come by the House often to check up on them and make sure everything is to their liking... 

Even the brothers notice that he treats them like anothering visiting Lord/Lady in that way, which he would argue they very much are and should be respected as one. It’s the least the Devildom can offer their father at this point.

His visits may also be an excuse for keeping an eye on the brothers to make sure they don’t do anything to inconvenience their “young guest…” To be honest, the entire House is a little paranoid about that… Nobody wants to know the punishment for hurting MC if Barbs is the one dishing it out...

Apart from watching out for them, Barbatos tries to encourage the MC to accept the Young Lord’s gifts (while also actively advising Diavolo to go easier on them at the same time). It would be so disheartening to him if his Prince feels like he hasn’t offered them the best experience that he could… He’s sure they understand.

Any time that he invites the MC to tea, they usually end up talking about their father in some way. Barbs knows a surprising amount about the god… He’s been around about as long as Chronos - preceding the birth of Aether and Chaos themselves - so he has some stories to tell.

The MC did once ask him why he doesn’t just run everything if he’s really been around for so long... his answer was: “Kings and their kingdoms will rise and fall… Worlds upon worlds are born, then cease to be. But time is what brings about all changes… So, I think I’m perfectly content with the power I possess. Wouldn’t you be?” 

Annnd they never asked Barbs another question like that again… and people think death is scary… 

Simeon 

He was honestly a little worried for their new companion for quite a while… It’s not like there’s never any sadness in the Celestial Realm or anything, but they seem to have something else entirely…

He’s heard stories about the Underworld. He’s never been himself, that’s usually a job for the Seraphim due to the… dreary nature of the place - but he’s heard it would make the Devildom look downright festive…

If he were being honest, he had half expected the MC to be obsessed with skeletons, ghosts, and other elements of darkness but that wasn’t the case. They certainly knew a lot about those things, but they appeared to have a healthy interest in the afterlife in general, so they asked him a lot of questions about the Celestial Realm, angels, and how the souls of the blessed are treated up there… It was surprising to say the least.

Of course he did the same and, frankly, Simeon found it incredibly wasteful that so many Greek followers find themselves just wasting away in a field of nothing for so long… but that’s neither here nor there.

He was also surprised by how gentle of an influence the MC ended up being on Luke as well. He had always suspected that the little angel just needed a bridge between him and Devildom to start finding appreciation for it, and the MC fit that bill perfectly - nothing he was used to, but still approachable enough to make everything less frightening. He thanks them a great deal for that… but...

It’s just that… Well they’re just so… depressing sometimes…! He doesn’t want to blame them because it hardly seems like their fault! They’re a very kind person, it’s just an atmosphere around them… It brings him to tears if he isn’t careful…

He’s invited the MC to Purgatory Hall on multiple occasions to chat and try to make them smile… When they do, the gloom is dispelled - even just a little - and they’re a truly beautiful creature regardless. It’s just so unfortunate that their life brings so much sadness...

Even so, he actually likes the MC enough to consider basing a character on them if he ever wrote another book. Something about a gloomy but sweet protagonist at home in a world of darkness sounds appealing… doesn’t it?

Luke

He didn’t know how to feel about the MC when they met. At first, he actually thought they were just as unhappy as he was to be there due to how depressed they looked but when they told him that wasn't true, he was really confused...

The Devildom is a dark, brutish, and dangerous place. Why would anyone feel at home down here??

But… well… He would spend time with them at RAD between breaks (partially to help scare off their many, many demonic suitors) and it might be weird to say, but they really made the Devildom look beautiful… literally.

The world just looks better when they’re around! It’s really hard to describe because it’s not something you notice much until they leave, but when the MC is around everything looks more vibrant and inviting! The grass gets greener, flowers grow bigger, and butterflies/birds hover around wherever they are like they have their own gravity - the realm loves them!

It started getting hard for Luke to hang onto his disdain for the place when they made it look so appealing… And then they started talking to him about the Underworld and the creatures they’d befriended there… creatures a lot worse than any demons he’d seen there...

Like. If the MC can be good friends with a bunch of rude walking corpses, then he could probably make friends with a demon right? There’s nice ones… kind of… 

Beel. He can make friends with Beel.

Like Simeon, he does feel bad that they seem so sad all the time… but unlike the older angel, he’s a bit more understanding that this is just how they are and enjoys his time with them regardless. (It helps a lot that just being around this little bean of a boy can lift their spirits anyway).

And you know what’s even better for him? When Lord Diavolo gives the MC tickets to things that they don’t want to go to, sometimes they’ll invite him along or give them to him instead! 

He’s gone to the Devil’s Coast with MC and Simeon sooo many times by now and he loves it!! Maybe the Devildom isn’t so bad after all, I mean, it can be a lot of fun when you go to the right places, anyway.

Solomon

Oh, he finds them both deeply fascinating and utterly terrifying - so just his sort of test sub-er, person!

He kids (somewhat), Solomon isn’t that dumb/lacking in self-preservation instinct. Experimenting on a child of death in a land of the dead (even if it’s not their “home turf”) would be asking for trouble. They’d have more than enough ammunition to fight him off and if their father found out? Immortality wouldn’t even begin to save him...

That being said, questions aren’t necessarily experiments… and oh boy, does he have a lot of them.

If the MC isn’t being pestered by Diavolo or the brothers, then they’re probably having to put up with Solomon nipping at their heels trying to get them to use their powers or answer all sorts of “innocent” scientific questions…

“MC, reanimation of Greek dead requires a blood offering, correct? Do you have to sacrifice animals for that process or do you allow them to feast on your own?”

“MC, when you’re controlling a skeleton do you move the body as a whole or do you have to animate each individual bone due to their lack of ligaments?”

“Think fast!! Oh look, you just caught the skull of my good friend, Richard! Could you bring him back from that, or should I fetch the rest of him?” 🙂

They put up with it because, believe it or not, he’s not nearly the weirdest person they’ve ever met (a lot of crazy people drift in and out of the land of the dead…) and well… they’re a pretty lonely person too so it’s not like they have a lot of standards when it comes to friendships anyway.

But the second they breathe a word of this to Barbs or Diavolo, this boy is on his way to a royal restraining order… Where does he even get those skulls…?