#unless he can use them to get our souls and then torture us for eternity lmao

[not-poignant]

Is Raphael capable of any kind of love? Not just romantic specifically. Has he ever loved anyone? Or maybe felt some kind of love-adjacent devil emotion for a favorite pet imp (which my autocorrect decided to change to “pet impersonator” so I’ll include that) or warlock or something?

I don't think canon Raphael is, honestly. I think he's capable of obsession, fascination, fondness, and even moments of affection, but I don't think he's capable of love in any way that we'd understand or ideally want it.

As for the Raphael I'm writing, who's quite a departure from canon, I'm not sure. I'm leaning towards 'same as above, but with some differences in that he's back to feeling his 50% human self more than he has been for a long time.' But even then I think it's a capricious, fickle feeling, which can turn off in the blink of an eye, and then return once equilibrium is reached again.

But you know, obsession, fascination, fondness and affection can get someone pretty far, actually. I definitely think the version I'm writing is capable of friendship.

[greetingfromthedead]

Shepherd Story 1 (God!Knives x GN!Reader)

Plot: In a world where fallen gods live among you, there is the god of winter and death who leaves behind merciless blizzards and famine wherever he goes on his eternal search for his other half he fell for many millennia ago.

Series: Shepherd. Check out Story 2 (smut) and Story 3!

Pairing: God!Knives x GN!Reader

Raiting: Teen and up (some mild sexual/intimate content, no smut)

Tags: fantasy AU, no use of "y/n", gods, feathery plant, fated love, romance, legends, nature magic, reunion, intimacy, possessive behavior, tenderness, some fluff, body worship, implied smut

Word count: 4.2k

Author's Note: This story is heavily inspired by the incredible @triplesilverstar's god AU stories A so called God on a mountain top? Well, better then freezing to death and So its a tradition? Weird. These stories are just way too good for you to not go read them. So gogogo (unless you are underage or not into smut)...

In a world much different from our own, where fallen gods live among people, there is a story that spans over many millennia. In that world, there are countless higher beings, each with their own unique powers and abilities. They guide nature in the endless cycle of creation and destruction. Among them is a man more feared and despised than the rest, known as the god of winter and death. His icy touch is said to bring misery and despair to all who encounter him. None can escape his chilling grasp, as the harsh winters can last for years on end. Children are born within his icy domain; they live and die, never knowing the warmth of summer. But only a few know the curse put on this world by the jealous gods of ancient times.

The god of winter and death roams solemnly through the lands, bringing icy winds and blizzards in his wake. The soft steps of his bare feet on grassy fields spread frost, and the lakes get covered in ice as he passes by. He doesn't bring famine and illness, but they follow him like a shadow as he moves south on his endless search. This world has never seen a winter like this before; it has lasted for fifty years and brought the northern lands to their knees. Grain stores are empty, and people are starving. Yet the god moves further and further south with each passing day, leaving death in his wake. He is still looking, searching for the one who bears the curse.

Restlessness has sunken its claws into you as of late. It's like something's tugging at your soul. You have always felt lucky that you were born quite far in the south, away from the dark shadows of the north. You are a winter child, and never in your years have you seen the bountiful summers the elders speak of. However, you haven't been plagued by winter's chill either, and for that, you are grateful. But as of late, your dreams have frozen over, set against a backdrop of white fields and icy winds. You feel it seeping into your waking hours; the breeze hasn't been gentle for weeks; instead, it cuts like knives into your flesh, leaving you shivering.

The fire roars in your little house, but its warmth can't chase away the chill in your bones. You wrap yourself tighter in blankets, trying to hold onto the last bit of heat before the darkness of night takes over. You count the herbs in your collection; you need to make sure you have as much stock as possible if winter indeed is to claim your little corner of the world too. You know you can't afford to run out; you are the herbalist that the entire nearby village relies on for healing remedies. As you put away the jars of dried leaves, you wonder if you can sleep tonight or will you be tortured again by the dangerous desire luring you into the night.

The flickering light of the fireplace seems to dim, the dancing of the light more lazy, barely reaching your feet, let alone your workbench. You shiver, feeling a chill run down your spine as the shadows in the room grow darker and more sinister. You turn around to inspect whether you need to add more logs to the dwindling fire, but your attention is grabbed by the window to your side. Icy flowers begin to form on the glass, their sharp angles glistening in the fading rays of the day.

Are these the last remnants of your blissful life? You wonder how long it will take for the cold to overtake the countryside and turn it into an icy wasteland. How many people will die, and will you ever see summer? You shake your head, trying to dispel the dark thoughts, and raise your gaze over the forming ice, as beautiful as it might be. You look at the grassy field and see glittering snow start to descend from the sky. While frost isn't all that uncommon, you've never seen it snow quite like this. The delicate flakes twirl and dance in the air, casting a magical spell over the landscape. You're in awe, and rush to the door, pulling the blanket around your shoulders tighter before stepping outside into the freezing twilight. The air is so still, not even a whisper of wind dares disturb the enchanting scene, like nature itself is holding its breath in anticipation. The soft flakes brush against your cheeks, melting on contact and leaving a cold, damp feeling on your skin. You try to imagine your home being transformed into a winter wonderland, with snow covering every surface in sight. You know you should fear that image more than anything else, but there's a strange sense of peace that comes with it.

You glance over your little yard to the edge of the forest, and there you see a figure. Your eyes are caught by his icy gaze, and you can't see anything else beside his piercing blue irises. You feel a chill run along your spine, but not from the cold, but from the kind of terror you would feel while staring down a wild wolf.

"I found you at last, my sweet darling." The nearly emotionless words of the god of winter and death carry over the silent landscape, echoing in your ears like a haunting melody. The coldness in his face softens slightly, replaced by something akin to a gentle smile.

You are too stunned to speak or move; the knowledge of who you've come across freezes you in place. But it isn't all fear that has made your legs so heavy; the restlessness of your soul is rearing its head again, calling out to the unknown like it's an old friend. You stay quiet as you look into the eyes of the god before you, feeling a sense of both terror and excitement. He turns toward you and steps closer. Your eyes are released from the shackles of his gaze. As you look at the rest of the figure, you see the mass of wings behind him. They aren't made up of feathers, but of shards of ice that reflect the light in a dazzling display. His body is clad in a flowy white robe, partially revealing his pale skin, some of it covered by the icy shards, the same as the wings. His hair and eyelashes look like they are frosted over due to the cold that emanates from his very being. He is breathtaking as he approaches you, his bare feet make no sound as he walks along the path. The blades of grass freeze in his presence, the puddle of water forms jagged crystals on its surface like razors.

"It has been too long, my dear," he whispers, his voice low and level, the sound crossing the empty space between you effortlessly to caress your ears.

His expression is tender yet filled with a cold intensity. This is not how you imagined such an infamous god to look at a mortal being like yourself. His eyes seem to pierce your very soul, making you feel both terrified and strangely alive.

With every step he takes, the surrounding air gets colder. Every inhale stings your lungs, every exhale produces a white cloud. Your fingers grip the blanket tighter. You can't shake the feeling that he knows something about you that you don't. His eyes have never left your face as he finally stops at your doorstep.

"I am sorry for being so impossibly late," he says, holding out a hand to you, palm up. His voice has a cold edge to it.

"Am I going to die?" The words slip over your lips before you even realize you've spoken them.

"One day, darling, but hopefully not any time soon. I cannot bear to lose you again." A slight smile flickers on the corners of his lips. "Take my hand."

"What do you mean? What do you want from me?" You know you should be afraid of him, but your soul tells you to place your hand in his.

"You will remember, sweet Shepherd." He waits patiently. "Take my hand."

"I'm not a shepherd; I'm a herbalist. You must have confused me with someone else." Saying a god is wrong seems like a surefire way to die, yet you do it anyway. Your reaction paints a slightly more obvious smile on his face as he looks at you through his low eyebrows with amusement. Your heart tells you to reach for his fingers.

"I will recognize you in any life, with any face. I will always find you, as your soul calls out to me. Take my hand." His piercing blue eyes look into yours, and you know that he is the source of your restless nights. You take a deep breath and finally allow yourself to surrender to your heart and soul. Your right hand lets go of the blanket and reaches out into the freezing night air to rest on his open palm. His skin feels like marble against yours, but his touch is comforting and familiar.

"Wake up, my love." His words echo in your mind as you realize the meaning behind them. Hundreds of previous lives come flooding back to you with a sense of recognition and understanding.

"Nai!" Your eyes open wide as you remember who he truly is, "You found me!" The cycle of reincarnation finally feels familiar once again.

He shifts closer, leaning his cold forehead against yours, your hand pressed against his chest.

"Do you still have it?" he asks softly.

"Of course I do; it's been with me all this time," you reply as you shut your eyes. His cold fingers squeeze yours tighter, and he lifts his forehead, replacing it with his lips. A gentle kiss on your skin as his free hand caresses your cheek. You would be shivering if it weren't for the fire lit up inside you.

"Thank you, sweet Shepherd," he says, placing his cheek against yours as he speaks by your ear. "For keeping it safe all this time."

"It is yours after all," you say, keeping your eyes closed, savoring the moment.

"No, sweetling, it is yours," he replies, his voice warm and comforting. He doesn't quite sound like a god of winter and death, one that brings merciless cold and darkness wherever he goes. Instead, he is the guardian and lover of all your past lives, reaching back to the ancient times before you were cast out from the Higher Plane. He is the one who cradles you in his arms and whispers promises of love eternal. The freezing stares are saved for everyone else but you, for you are his chosen one.

"Why don't you come inside?" You smile as you turn your head slightly towards him, feeling the frigid air of his breath against your ear.

"I doubt I would make it through the door," his silky voice chuckles softly. "I've been searching for so long, I fear I myself have frozen."

You can see his massive, crystalline wings over his shoulder. It has never gone on so long that he himself starts to freeze as well. His body feels more rigid, and the softness of his flesh has turned to ice.

"I can fix that, my love," you say softly, reaching out to touch his frozen skin with warmth in your fingertips. The blanket that you released slides off your shoulders, exposing the goosebumps on your skin. The cold air bites at your uncovered flesh, but you don't mind; you are in love with winter. Your fingers slide along his jaw, turning his face toward you. Your breath escapes you as a white vapor before you close the gap between the two of you, capturing his lips with yours.

The kiss you share is deep, filled with a kind of longing that has been building up for many thousands of years. You feel his body warm up; the coldness of his skin no longer cuts you like knives; and your fingers get to press into the suppleness of his cheek. The quiet air is filled with a sound reminding you of delicate glass breaking. His hand that has been tracing the curve of your neck moves down to rest on the small of your back and pulls you closer, flush against his body. You feel his feathers brush against your skin as he wraps you up in his numerous wings, enveloping you in his embrace, protecting you from the frost he brings to the rest of the world.

You pull back to admire the sight you know you will find—the glowing markings etched into his eyes and skin, the pattern traveling along his body, gracing his face, and decorating his arms with intricate designs that seem to come alive in the dim light of nightfall. He is still pressing your hand against his chest, where you can start to feel the steady beat of his heart, a rhythm that matches the intensity of your own.

The frost in his hair is gone, his skin taking on a tone of warmth, a blush of cold darkening his cheeks and the tip of his nose. The marks still linger on him, pulsing lightly, and you are mesmerized by the blue eyes that no longer remind you of a dangerous beast but of a soul who carries too many burdens.

You lead him into the warmth of your cottage, but with every step he takes, the fire flickers, threatening to die down completely. A kind of darkness and cold emanate from him, yet it doesn't touch you anymore. His hand in yours is warm and comforting, a stark contrast to the atmosphere around him. You refuse to let it bother you as your heart is set ablaze. His hand slides out of yours and he takes a longer step forward to be right beside you. His hand moves onto your back, and with gentle pressure, he guides you to the seat by the window, where the silvery moonlight starts to creep in. With a rustle of feathers, he spreads his wings before sitting down on the soft cushion, pulling you with him. Not once has he averted his eyes, looking at you like you're a treasure of priceless value. The hand not resting on your lower back caresses up your arm, sending shivers through your body. This seems to amuse him as you see the curve of his lips in the dim light. You settle more comfortably into his lap, and his wings fold and reach over to you like a soft blanket.

"Tell me, Shepherd, do you remember it all now?" His knuckles brush gently over your cheek.

"I have lived so many mortal lives that I can hardly keep them all straight, so I'm still piecing it together." You rest your hand on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. "But I remember you in all of them, one way or another. Why do you keep calling me Shepherd, love?"

"I don't mean to be impatient with you, but I've been waiting to find you for so very long. I can call you by your new name if you would like me to." His fingers trace along your jaw and lips as he speaks. "But you are the Shepherd. My other half. I may be the god of death, but I need you to guide the souls of the deceased into the afterlife so they can be born again."

"What?" Your eyebrows move closer together in confusion. He takes your hand out of your lap to place kisses on your knuckles.

"I meant to find you sooner, my love. This winter was never meant to last so long. But it is over now. We are reunited. I have made you a lot of work. I am sorry. Some of these souls have been waiting for 50 years to move on. I reaped them from their earthly existence, I brought death, and now they need you so my brother can bring them life once again. To offer them a new beginning in spring so that my sister can fill them up with the joy of summer. Don't you remember?"

His eyes are solemn as they look into yours. Deep regret plagues them—a kind of hurt you don't remember seeing in them before. The pain is clearly etched in every line of his face.

"I will. Just keep holding me, and it will come back; it always has." You squeeze his fingers tightly, and his lips move to your wrist, brushing against your skin.

"You can ask me anything you want, love." His piercing eyes look into yours as he measures your forearm with his kisses. "Perhaps it will help."

"Your brother—he lives on a mountain, right?" You watch him carefully. "Why do you have to roam around and not him?"

"Because people don't pray for winter and only the desperate hope for death," he replies softly. His lips trail to your shoulder, and you can't see his eyes anymore. "But even if I had the power to dictate winter and death from just one little corner of the world, I still need you to put an end to it. I do not wish to turn this world into a wasteland because you still live in it. You alone can rein in the northern winds and calm the raging blizzards, for I only love you. You alone."

You feel his sharp teeth brush against the skin of your neck, and you lean back, letting out a deep sigh as you enjoy his touch. Your hand that's been resting on his chest moves to his head, your fingers lacing into his hair. You close your eyes and savor the moment, knowing that you are completely captivated by him.

"Why must gods be so cruel and jealous? To not only curse us but the whole world with it. All that because you gave your heart to me. How spiteful, they cannot kill me, so they force me into a mortal body to ensure I'm a slave to reincarnation until the end of time." Your quiet voice fills the room as you feel his mouth move to your ear.

"And I would wage another war and fall all over again just to rectify it," he whispers into your ear. "You just say the word, my sweetest love, and I will fight for an eternity, I will lay waste to everything. Until then, I will keep searching for you in each and every one of your lives."

His hand on your back pulls you tighter, and the cocoon of feathers surrounding you rustles softly as his breath gets heavy against your skin. His lips trail along your cheek until they reach yours. He moves softly, capturing your mouth with a gentle kiss that speaks of promises fulfilled and passion unleashed.

"You are so breathtakingly gorgeous," he whispers, his voice filled with love and desire, barely moving away from your lips. "No god of beauty could ever compare to you. To think you are mine... all mine."

You lean into him as his lips meet yours in a passionate kiss, knowing that this love has not dwindled over the passing millennia. Your souls date back to a time before this world was created, in the Higher Plane, among other gods, you had found each other, and now, in this mortal realm, your devotion continues to burn just as brightly. His hands trace along the curves of your body, exploring every dip and valley with a hunger that matches your own. The kisses of the winter god burn on your neck as his face presses into your skin. You lean back as his fingers undo the buttons on your blouse. The fabric falls away, revealing your bare chest as his lips map every inch of it.

"Open your eyes, my darling, look at me." You hear his insistent voice as a gap forms between your bodies, "I have been waiting for too long to see them glimmer in the moonlight, for they hold all that my soul yearns for."

The god of winter and death spends most of the night worshiping your mortal body. He kisses every mark and freckle that adorn your skin like stars. He whispers poems of adoration against the scars time has etched into you. He declares his unyielding love for you in every way two people can. He leaves trails of fire in his wake that burn with his passion. Every inch of your body is a canvas for him to paint upon. His love leaves marks where his teeth have been and where his lips have lingered. His desire leaves bruises on your skin, but you know he takes care not to break your human body.

You lay in his embrace, surrounded by the massive wings that shield you from the cold he brought with him into your home. Your fingers trace patterns into his skin, your body is exhausted, but you know that dawn is creeping ever closer and the time for him to leave is near. Your eyes remain on him as he strokes along your tingling skin. His sharp gaze catches yours.

"You're staring," you say with both amusement and slight awkwardness.

"I can't help it, you're beautiful." His low voice caresses your ears.

"Why must you leave?" The words escape you.

"Because I'm the god of winter and death, my passing alone brings calamity, I cannot linger for long," he says mournfully.

"Then can't I come with you?" You say hopefully, a glimmer appears in your eyes.

"Alas, you are chained to a mortal body, and I reside in the north, far beyond human settlements, where only demons roam the dead forests. Even if my presence alone wouldn't kill you, the merciless nature of my frozen hell would. It's no place for someone as precious as you, my sweetling." You feel a slight chuckle ripple in his body. "Yet every time you wake, you ask me that same question."

"Then when will you return?" Your voice gets quieter as you see the darkness behind your window retreat.

"An army of war gods wouldn't be able to keep us apart. They tried." His voice is soft, and he touches your cheek. "I will come back once it's my turn again, the year will be guided through its seasons, and now I know where to find you. Until my return, guide the ones I have reaped back into the circle of life, sweet Shepherd. Guide them well until we meet again."

"I hope it won't be this long again, for our sake and theirs. I don't want the humans to fear you as much as they do."

"I too wish to be apart from you for as little time as possible, yet I will engulf this world in eternal winter if it means I can return to you." His voice has a sharpness to it, his words are both a promise and a threat. "Their fear means nothing to me compared to your love."

Dawn arrives too soon, the first rays of light brushing the tops of the trees acting as a warning. Your time has run out, and your fated love must bid you farewell. His touch lingers longer, the fingers tracing the outline of your face as if etching it into his memory for eternity. His stern eyes can't hide the tender look of adoration they hold for you. His lips press against yours as the layers of wings peel away from you. Before the coolness of the outside air reaches you again, your love drapes a blanket around you, never breaking away from the kiss.

You want to reach out to him, but his long fingers catch your wrists into his grasp. He holds on tight, gripping your hands with his. He pulls away slightly and places a kiss on your cheek.

"I love you, my darling," his voice whispers in your ear. You feel another firm press of his lips on your forehead. "Keep it safe for me."

"Your heart is always safe with me. I will guard it, and I will warm it when you come again." You smile as you look up into his piercing blue eyes. "I love you in every life I live."

He releases your hands, his fingers lightly brushing your chin, before he turns to leave. He steps away from your door into the snow covered yard. His majestic wings unfurl into the still air, each feather seemingly stretching out.

"Until I see you again, my sweet Shepherd!" He doesn't show you his face, but you hear the warm smile in his voice.

"Until then, darling!"

The god's quiet footsteps lead him towards the forest again. The bare feet don't make a single noise, and the white robe emits only the slightest rustle. He might be leaving, but the world itself seems fundamentally different to you than it did yesterday. Even as he disappeared, leaving snow and ice behind and a coolness in your chambers, the dawn that came brought new colors with it you had never seen before in this lifetime.

This was originally going to be smut, but I got carried away and then it didn't seem right anymore. If my brainrot doesn't pack its bags in the next few days then I might make a part 2 that follows the original plan...

There is now a smutty Part 2.

And even a 3rd installment.

Did you like this? Go check out my MASTERLIST and drop a follow for any and all future projects!

[scarletarosa]

The Demons

These entities which have been constantly claimed to be evil by Abrahamic religions are much more than what they have been portrayed to be. This is an account based off my many years of working with these beings and speaking to them about their history, mindsets, and values.  

Origin: As the demons and deities have told, Jehovah is not actually the supreme deity, but rather an imposter for the Source (whose counterpart is the Queen of Heaven). The first demons to exist were once angels (agents of the Source/Queen) and many of them were deities (since “angels” is an umbrella-term for all sorts of spirits tasked with directly serving the supreme God and Goddess). When Jehovah had arrived to seize control over the Universe and Earth, Lucifer, the first-born deity from the Source, had led a war against him; yet this traumatic battle ended horribly. Jehovah’s power as an Aeonic god (a deity who creates the physical and metaphysical Universes) outmatched the power of the Universal gods, yet he had been crippled. He defeated them and banished the divine beings who rebelled against his tyranny into the land of torment, Hell, and destroyed their original homeland in the heavens.

Upon arriving in Hell, the fallen angels became demons due to the dark energies of Hell; this caused them to lose their divine glow and become more dark and intimidating in appearance. Their wings blackened, they grew horns, and some even developed spikes on their bodies, claws, or red eyes. Yet they remained beautiful in some darker way, but their hearts were broken. The most powerful of the demons were Lucifer, Satan, and Leviathan; they became the High Kings and sought out to build their own kingdoms in Hell, each kingdom following their own values. From this time on, they became primarily focused on war and revenge. Their new realm began being used by the divine Judges of the Underworld who send evil souls there, allowing the three High Kings to determine torments for them (all evil people are sent to Hell, whether they follow Jehovah or not).  

With the rise of Abrahamic religions, the demons and even some polytheistic deities were labeled as “evil” and were taught to represent the very things which they opposed. Where they teach Lucifer to represent lies, he is instead truth/knowledge, Mammon as greed when he is generosity, Lilith as infertility when she is life/motherhood, Asmodeus as lust when he is love. Yet it is as they say, that the “victors get to write history” and the rebels who fought against a tyrant are portrayed as the ones who are evil. Additionally, not all demons began as fallen angels, as some were gods whose people had been slaughtered and the deities had lost themselves to grief. But instead of allowing them to suffer, many had been recruited by Lucifer into his own kingdom.  

The Three Kingdoms:

The kingdom ruled by Lucifer and his wife, Lilith, is set in a desert wasteland of eternal twilight, but some demons managed to develop oases here. The land looks extremely ancient and mysterious, with some smoldering ruins in the distance. Queen Lilith is viewed as the demons’ Mother Goddess due to her many children and her motherly nature. This kingdom has many areas which are filled with tormented corrupt souls, even gruesome scenes of them being torn apart over and over or having unspeakable things done to them. The values of this kingdom primarily include the seeking of knowledge, wisdom, justice, and developing strength through hardships. Overall, Lucifer is the Initiator towards Illumination, the prime light, and the beam which shatters ignorance.  

The kingdom ruled by Satan and his wife, Ashtoreth, is a dark volcanic land. The landscape reflects strongly Satan’s personality of being easily angered, rebellious, fearless, and destructive. He has many people being burned alive in pits of lava and many other torments within his domain. Satan’s kingdom primarily values military might, aggressive revolutions, and strength of character. Satan is the fiery rebel who incites civil unrest and causes revolutions. Without him, there is apathy and submission to dictatorships. 

The kingdom ruled by Leviathan is a desolate place of steep canyons and emptiness; the energy of this place can fill a human with crushing loneliness beyond imagining, only the demons can withstand it. This kingdom is the most well-defended one since Leviathan focuses primarily on defense whereas the other two are moreso offensive. King Leviathan is a draconic deity who rules over loneliness, desolation, solitude, and deep feelings of despair. He was once one of the Watchers who dwelt in the sea of Earth, but after the War, he greatly changed. Overall, Leviathan destroys everything that is redundant, whether it be places, people, or ideas; he tears through them all. He tends to be cold, calculating, serious, and very withdrawn.

Values: Overall, demons are wise beings who seek to darkly illuminate individuals of Truth, no matter how upsetting it often is. They also teach people how to be strong by putting us through hardships that we must overcome, yet will offer advice if asked. The demons are therefore pedagogues who urge us towards overcoming our weaknesses and seeking spiritual evolution so we may become stronger than ordinary humans. Due to their painful pasts of great loss, the demons are one of the spirit races who best know what it means to overcome suffering and instead allow it to transform you. They often teach this when asked, otherwise, they usually target evil people during their lives by inflicting bad situations upon them or causing them to have cancers or other health issues.  

The demons value wisdom and strength that is gained through walking the solitary path through Hell. It is a path that tears a person apart until they are finally reborn as something far more capable and knowledgeable of who they truly are. It is the demons who know that wisdom is paid for through blood and the sacrifice of one’s current self, and they seek to teach humans how to walk this path. Typically, the demons do not hold the majority of humans in high regard; both for the obvious reasons and because they have watched humans allow themselves to grow weaker over the ages. They seek humans who are willing to step into the abyssal darkness in order to find the light, and those who are willing to forego all that they were taught so they can learn the truth. They teach that once a person removes all of their chains of emotional burden and false beliefs, it is only then that they will they be free and find illumination.

Hierarchy: The highest-ranking demons in Hell are the High Kings and the Queens. These rulers are the ones who appoint promising and trustworthy demons of their courts to certain military ranks of nobility. These (in order of highest to lowest) are as such: kings, dukes, princes, marquises, earls, knights, and presidents. There is also a War Master for each kingdom, whose authority is second-in-command to their High King and Queen. The Goetic demons (the nobility of Hell) are all deities whereas the non-nobles can be either deities or semi-divine demons (as offspring of other demons). Among the nobility of Hell are also the children of the Kings and Queens, since they through blood hold a significant title.  

Demons are also capable of being exiled from Hell if they turn traitor. Although exile for demons means that they will be tortured to death. Upon the death of a spirit, their manifestation is torn apart and it takes many years (sometimes hundreds) to reform. Once they reform, they cannot return to Hell. There have been plenty of traitorous demons in Hell, as not all of them remain loyal and every race of beings has their fair share of corruption. For demons, some begin seeking more power or destruction and so often secretly pledge themselves to the snake-god of evil, Apep. This causes the rogue demons to begin trying to assassinate their own kind, but are quickly discovered and sentenced to a horrific death. Due to these, it is important to remember that not all demons are safe to work with and that it is best to go through their rulers when asking for who best to trust. However, the majority of the Goetia have remained faithful as only a few have ever been exiled; so they are typically safe to work with. A few examples of demons who are very unsafe to work with are Pazuzu, Moloch, and Amy.

Working with Demons: When working with the demonic race, it is best to keep an open-mind and be honest with them. They strongly value those who seek to learn more about who demons truly are and who also seek to better themselves through hardships. Remember to be respectful of these beings and to not treat them in belittling ways (such as calling them nicknames). It is also wise to dress appropriately when calling upon them to manifest in your area; do not dress in sleepwear (especially for the Goetia or other royalty). Additionally, make certain that you do not use any ritualistic summonings to call upon them, as they will be offended by this and leave (no evocation triangles or anything of that sort). One can however feel free to use their enns to either call upon them, meditate upon them, or chant the enns to bless things in a demon’s honour. Make certain that you treat them just as you would any honoured mentor and do not mock them or make lustful moves towards them since there are many demons who do not hesitate to punish humans for doing this.  

One thing that everyone going into demonolatry should always keep in mind is that you should never offer a demon your blood unless you completely understand what you are doing and who you are offering it to, When a person offers their blood to a demon, it is essentially you making a binding contract of devotion to them. If this demon turns out to be a harmful one, they now have the power to do to you whatever they please and you basically belong to them. So this action is overall something unwise. Something else to keep in mind is that the idea of “selling one’s soul” is not only impossible (since the soul is the higher self and is not ours to sell) but it also invites the malevolent tar spirits to you. Once a tar spirit gets ahold of a person wishing to sell themself, the person is now at risk of being possessed by them.

Overall, remember to be polite when working with demons (no need to be overly polite but be respectful at least) and take time to give them offerings when they do something to help you. As for the race of spirits called “tar spirits”, they at times like to pretend to be demons. So if a demon is acting strange towards you or is being harmful, there is a strong chance that it’s actually a tar spirit in disguise; although they can be banished by using an astral attack.

Links: The Angels, Tar Spirits, The Source, Lucifer, Lilith, Satan, Ashtoreth, Leviathan

[taeyongdoyoung]

summary: you are a mermaid and you save a handsome man from drowning but little do you know it’s not his first rodeo when dealing with mermaids. seonghwa, a former prince, is currently hongjoong’s first mate and boyfriend. hongjoong is the captain, the pirate king of the most savage crew across the seas. and you want nothing to do with them. not because they’re pirates, but because they’re humans…

ship: mermaid!reader x prince/pirate!seonghwa x pirate!hongjoong

genre: little mermaid!au, pirate!au, angst, fantasy, romance

author’s note: demon!jongho x wizard!yunho let’s get ittttt

warnings: some swearing, mentions of demonic activity & torture, hell references (idk, just in case someone’s uncomfy with that), mentions of drowning, kissing

word count: 3.3k

chapter one ☠️ chapter two ☠️ chapter three ☠️ chapter four ☠️ chapter five ☠️chapter six ☠️ chapter seven ☠️ chapter eight ☠️ chapter nine ☠️ chapter ten ☠️ chapter eleven ☠️ chapter thirteen ☠️ spotify playlist

Jongho’s POV

"It appears your time is up," I smirked triumphantly the minute I snatched Hongjoong away from his ship. Humans were so foolish it would almost be amusing if a tiny part of me didn't feel bad for them. Key word: tiny. 

Collecting human souls and becoming more powerful was a far more pleasant activity than whatever sense of guilt had briefly visited me. As I was saying, humans: 0. Me: 8524. Or was it 8525 already? I began losing count of how many souls I'd acquired throughout my immortal life.��

And it's not like I wasn't a benevolent demon. I had warned Hongjoong what would happen if he achieved true happiness. It wasn’t my fault he found joy so quickly. It wasn't my fault he couldn't find a way to be miserable in order to prolong his life on earth. Or should I have said life at sea? Damn pirates and their weird habits.

"Please, I need more time," Hongjoong begged wretchedly.

"If I had a soul for every time I heard that line. Actually, nevermind. I do have a soul for every time I heard that," I shrugged smugly.

"So what's one more week to you? You can't die, right?" he bargained relentlessly.

"Fair point, but a deal is a deal. Any last words?"

"I just want to say goodbye to my friends. My soul will be yours for eternity, so what's the rush?" Hongjoong kept talking. 

Ah, humans and their never-dying hope. If it wasn't so pathetic, it would have been admirable.

"Hm, let me think...No," I rejected his plea without even bothering to consider it. 

And just as I was about to put an end to his mortal existence and absorb his soul, I felt a surge of faintly familiar power calling me. No, summoning me. Oh, what the hell?

🔮🔮🔮

Yunho's POV

"Hello, demon," I greeted Jongho reluctantly.

"What do you want, wizard?" he scoffed. "And why have you trapped me in this ridiculous circle?"

"I have my reasons," I responded vaguely. "Care to explain what you've been intending to do with that pirate's soul?"

"It's none of your business," Jongho rolled his eyes.

"I suggest you tell me unless you want to stay here forever."

Jongho laughed maniacally. Ever the narcissistic prick.

"You think this can hold me down?" he moved towards me swiftly, as if intending to break away from my spell. 

Once he realized there was an invisible wall preventing him from escaping, he eyed me with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

"Now, I'm intrigued. How did you become so capable?"

"Answer my question first and then I'll decide whether to tell you," I suggested, fully aware of the fact I had the high ground in this situation. 

Maybe not forever like I'd threatened, but it would certainly be long enough to make Jongho speak.

"Very well. I was intending to devour his soul. I don't seem to have enough pirates in my collection. Too many corrupt politicians, which is kinda gross, don't you think?"

"When will you put this obsession of yours to an end? Aren't you already powerful enough down there?"

"Obviously not powerful enough since you've managed to entrap me."

I shook my head in disbelief.

"I can't let you take Hongjoong's soul."

"Why?"

"Like you said before, it's none of your business," I wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine.

"Humour me, wizard. What's so special about this pirate?"

"Alright. To put it simply, I've invested too much of my energy and magic to his loved ones' well-being. If he is taken away from them, all my efforts will have been in vain. It would be a waste."

😈😈😈

Jongho's POV

"Who are they? His loved ones?" I asked despite myself. 

Even though I was furious at Yunho for summoning and tricking me into this circle, my inquisitiveness was growing by the minute. Wizards usually didn't meddle in demons' affairs. But for some reason, I kept running into Yunho every now and then. And though he was a bit annoying, he certainly wasn't boring. So, I kept playing along.

"A mermaid and a former prince. Satisfy your curiosity?" Yunho replied without giving too many details. Okay, I'll bite.

"Juicy," I murmured. "And what exactly did you invest in them?"

"Let's just say I have helped them transform in ways previously thought impossible."

"Aw, come on, you've got to give me more than that," I insisted.

"Maybe I will. But first, you're gonna have to promise me you won't take the pirate's soul."

"And what's in it for me?" I pouted. "You know I don't do things for free."

"Bloody demons," Yunho muttered under his breath. "I'll give you something that will make you as powerful as you want."

"As powerful as the devil himself?" I blinked incredulously.

"Yes," he confirmed.

"And what, pray tell, is that?" 

"A wizard's soul," No. He couldn't... "Mine, to be specific."

Idiot. Beautiful, impossible idiot.

"You dare compare yourself to the devil?" I cackled.

I didn't understand it myself but a part of me was actively trying to talk him out of it.

"Not right now. But in a few years, I'll be even stronger. With my powers in your collection, you'll be invincible."

"You're willing to give up your soul and yet you don't even know that pirate?"

"I don't need to," Yunho waved me off.

"And if you trick me? If you don't become powerful as you suggest you will?" 

I kept trying to change his mind. It was insane. He was presenting me with an unbelievably good possibility and I was attempting to dissuade him. What was wrong with me?

"Well, then, you'll have eternity to torture my soul."

"Hm. Tempting, I admit."

🔮🔮🔮

Yunho's POV

"Then, just agree to it, Jongho," I pleaded.

"You must be really desperate to call me by my name," the demon observed correctly. Damn, how I hated that he was right.

"Don't pretend you haven't made up your mind already. No other wizard would ever offer you something like that," I couldn't take no for an answer.

"So what makes you so different from other wizards?"

"I don't know. But the fact remains. You can't reject me. You're far too greedy to let go of your ambitions now."

"This is your last warning, Yunho. If I give up the pirate's soul and take yours instead, you will regret it. Human souls wither in time and their miseries become less painful. A soul like yours? It could last till eternity and beyond. And every second in hell will be agony. It will destroy you little by little. And even when you might think there is nothing left, it will still persevere against all odds. I wouldn't wish such a fate on anyone."

"Aw, are you worried for me, demon?" I teased him. "You don't think I can handle it?"

"Shut up and get me out of this obnoxious circle."

"I take it we have a deal, then?" I said confidently.

"Regrettably so."

"You'll let Hongjoong go?" I needed a confirmation.

"Haven't I made it obvious? What could I possibly do with him when I'll have you in a couple of years?"

"You didn't strike me as the patient type," I laughed, while undoing the spell trapping him.

"I can be patient for the right reason, wizard."

"The right reason being my immortal soul?" I joked, even though every cell of my being was telling me to run, even though I was already beginning to regret my impulsive decision. My love for humans would be my downfall...

"Can there be any other reason?" Jongho, now free, traced his finger across my jaw. "Hell, I can't wait to devour you."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

☠️☠️☠️

Hongjoong's POV

That damn demon just disappeared?! I had no idea what was happening but before I could waste any more time wondering, I decided to take advantage of the situation and try to escape from wherever his lair was. However, it was too dark to see anything and no matter how much I ran, I couldn't find a way out. I was beginning to panic, thinking about the demon's potential return when I felt a pair of strong arms pulling me. Not given the chance to protest, I could only determine that I was suddenly being taken away. Soon enough, I was greeted by a familiar sight that reminded me of the happiest memories of my life. I was back on the ship! I couldn't believe my luck and whoever my mysterious saviour was, I knew that I owed them everything. Letting go of me, I attempted to discern their features but in vain. The pitch-black night surrounded us from all sides.

"Who are you?"

"A friend. That's all you need to know for now."

"How can I repay you for what you did for me?" 

"You can't," the stranger replied sadly, obviously leaving something out. I was too terrified to ask what they meant by that. So, I asked something else, instead.

"Will I see you again?"

"At sunrise. I need to talk to all three of you at once."

"All three of us?" 

But before I could inquire what exactly my saviour was suggesting, they disappeared. Were they referring to Seonghwa, Y/N and myself? I groaned quietly and figured I'd just have to be patient and wait until the morning. Until then, I couldn't do much but see Seonghwa again (since I assumed Y/N was back in the sea during the night). I wasn't sure whether (and if so, when) the demon would return for my soul, so I hurried to our room. Imagine my distress when I didn't find Seonghwa there. Running a hand through my hair, I hurried to check my other crewmates' rooms. There was no trace of any of them. If something had happened to them while I was at the demon's lair...I would never be able to forgive myself. Even if I didn't have much time left, I was determined to spend every second of it looking for my friends. Eventually, I decided that checking Mingi's cell was the only solution. If he was still there, he might know something about my crew's disappearance. If he wasn't...then, I would have no idea where to go next.

"Mingi?" I yelled but in vain. His cell was empty. Fuck. Was this some wicked game? Had the demon taken all of them just to mess with me? Where was everyone? I couldn't think of anything but...No, this was too dangerous. But it's not like I had something to lose, right? I had already sold my soul. So, I abandoned my ship and jumped into the sea.

"Y/N! Y/N!" I started screaming while swimming further away from the ship. She probably wouldn't be able to hear me. But I was desperate, okay? And besides, what other choice did I have? To my utter disbelief, she appeared on the surface soon after I began looking for her. An involuntary sigh of relief left my mouth. But then, it hit me. It was a full moon. Which made Y/N more like a siren. Oh, fuck it. If I was about to go to hell, I might as well be drowned by her instead of have my soul absorbed by that demon.

"Hongjoong!" she exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I lied and swam towards her, completely disregarding the potential danger. "Where did everyone go?"

"They went looking for you, of course!" Y/N explained. "And I had to return here, because of...well, you know why."

I smiled nervously.

"And Mingi?"

"Yeosang let him go," she said.

"Yeosang?" I was shocked.

"I don't know, he said they would need more hands or something," Y/N chuckled at the cruel irony of it. "Yeo's been visiting him. He said Mingi's...different. Kinder."

"Why do I have difficulties believing that?"

"Everyone can change, I guess," she shrugged. Wait, when had she gotten so close?  Almost too close...

"Y/N..." I whispered her name in warning, but she didn't seem to hear me. Wrapping her arms around my neck, I felt unable to move. Completely transfixed by her, a small fraction of my brain was terrified of the fact I didn't feel terrified, at all.

"I missed you," she responded with a song-like voice. "Come with me."

"Okay," my mouth agreed even though my mind was still struggling to accept this. Then, she pulled me under. This was it, then? Surrounded by the endless water, her lips touched mine, giving me a breath of air. A couple of moments later, I realized something unexpecting. She wasn't trying to drown me. She was trying to save me. Her siren nature had made her take me beneath the surface. But her human nature was the one providing me with oxygen. After what felt like centuries of kissing, I felt Y/N letting go of me and pushing me upwards. What had just happened?

🧜‍♀️🧜‍♀️🧜‍♀️

Reader's POV

Finally! Oh, how much you'd missed the sweet sunrise! You swam towards the ship. Memories of what had taken place mere hours ago flooded you. You wondered if Hongjoong would be angry with you. You had to explain everything to him and it couldn't wait any longer. You hoped he'd understand...And that he had made his way back home safely.

"Hongjoong!" you cried out, overwhelmed by guilt. He appeared soon enough, looking absolutely wrecked, like he hadn't slept at all. Knowing him, that was probably the case. You climbed up the ladder and the first thing you did was hug him. You were surprised he didn't flinch away. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know you didn't," he replied calmly.

"I thought I could control her. I didn't think she'd try to drown you. I tried my best to stop her but..." you were rambling before you could realize what he was saying.

"I know, sweetheart, I know."

"Wait...what?" you looked up at him in confusion.

"If you hadn't kissed me, I would have drowned. I could feel you struggling against your siren nature."

"So, you forgive me?" you mumbled nervously.

"There's nothing to forgive," Hongjoong unconsciously repeated your words.

You smiled at him gratefully and then, it hit you.

"Hold on, if you're not mad at me, why do you look so miserable?"

"Seonghwa and the crew still haven't returned. After our nocturnal encounter, I thought it sensible to come back to the ship and wait until dawn. I have no idea where to start looking for them."

"Oh, shit, I was so focused on fighting against my siren self that I forgot to tell you," you mentally slapped yourself. "They took the boats and said if they don't find you, they'll come back to the ship in the morning."

"So, why aren't they here yet?" Hongjoong asked anxiously.

"Aren't they?" you grinned and pointed towards the horizon, where a couple of boats were approaching the ship.

☠️☠️☠️

Seonghwa's POV

"Oh my God," I whispered as soon as I saw Hongjoong on the ship. Safe and sound. I ran towards him and enveloped him in a suffocating hug. "Do you have any idea how worried we were?"

"Relax, Hwa, I'll tell you everything I know," he promised.

"You better! We resorted to letting Mingi go in order to search for you!" I hissed.

"You know I can hear you, right?" Mingi complained.

"Yeosang kept saying some nonsense about how he was a changed man or whatever," I kept going.

"Still right here," Mingi announced awkwardly.

"As you might have guessed," Hongjoong interrupted us, completely unbothered by Mingi's freedom. I assumed Y/N had told him already. "I was taken by a demon."

"We figured," Yeosang confirmed.

"I told them about your stupid deal," I groaned.

"Hey, it's not stupid, Yeosang's still alive, isn't he?" Hongjoong argued.

"It is stupid. It's not like I would have killed my favourite pirate in the universe," Mingi intervened.

Yeosang had the audacity to wink at Mingi!

"Shut up, Mingi," Hongjoong said and continued telling us of his adventures. "Now, where was I? So, the demon told me he'd take my soul and like, I tried to talk my way out of it but before I could achieve anything, he disappeared. Naturally, I tried to escape from wherever I was but it was so dark I couldn't see a thing. Eventually, I was saved by some stranger who teleported me back to the ship. My saviour said we'll meet again at sunrise. That's when they vanished, as well, and I noticed you all weren't on the ship. I checked Mingi's cell and of course, it was empty. So, I decided to wait until the morning."

Hongjoong and Y/N exchanged a strange look that led me to believe that wasn't the whole story. I made a mental note to ask them in private what that was all about. But until then, we had more pressing matters to discuss.

"So, the demon just let you go? This doesn't make any sense," I pointed out suspiciously.

"I don't know why or how but I'm grateful I get to spend more time with you. All of you," Hongjoong clarified. "Even Mingi, for fuck's sake."

Mingi chuckled cutely at being acknowledged like that.

"You think the demon will come back for you?" I inquired.

"No idea, but let's hope not," Hongjoong said.

🔮🔮🔮

Yunho's POV

As I was a man of my word, I teleported myself back to Hongjoong's ship at sunrise. And apparently, my timing was particularly appropriate, because the crew had gathered around Hongjoong and he was obviously telling them of his recent experiences. Making myself invisible on purpose, I appeared in the most dramatic fashion, taking them by surprise.

"Holy shit!" Seonghwa yelped in shock but soon enough, remembering how I'd helped him, visibly relaxed. "Yunho!"

"It's the wizard of the lighthouse!" Y/N exclaimed gleefully.

"Hello again," I greeted them.

"Wait, I know that voice!" Hongjoong announced. "You're the guy who saved me last night!"

"In the flesh," I confirmed, a little too smugly.

"You said you need to talk to the three of us," Hongjoong repeated my words. "Did you mean Seonghwa, Y/N and me?"

"Aren't you a clever pirate?" I patted his shoulder proudly. "No offense but I'd like to keep our conversation private. For now."

"None taken," another one of the pirates shrugged.

Hongjoong led me, Seonghwa and Y/N to a room where I assumed we'd be able to have some privacy. As I informed them of the deal I'd made with Jongho, their faces lit up with a mixture of relief and terror. Relief, I imagined, because they were happy Hongjoong would stay with them. Terror, I figured, because humans and mermaids alike, were quite compassionate by nature, and they probably felt bad for me.

"I don't understand..." Hongjoong spoke quietly. "You don't even know me and you would give up your soul for me?"

"Funny, that's exactly what the demon said," I shook my head. "The truth is, I'm too invested in the three of you already to watch him break you apart. First, with transforming Seonghwa's face so that he can have a new life away from his parents. Then, with fulfilling Y/N's wish to have legs during the day so that she can be with you two. Now, this...I can't explain it myself, but seeing the three of you happy, I feel like it's worth the risk. If Hongjoong was taken away from Seonghwa and Y/N, all of the good magic I've done would go to waste."

They looked at me with so much gratitude and worry I couldn't bear it and told them something I probably shouldn't have.

"Don't worry about my soul. I have a plan that demon will never see coming."

"Do you need our help?" Y/N asked.

"I'm not sure yet, but if I do, I'll come to you."

"Please, do. We owe you big time," Seonghwa responded.

"Don't mention it," I waved him off. "But until then, enjoy your lives."

To be continued…

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

Demon Alya submission (starts off angsty, gets fluffy at the end) made by Anon

Alya hissed with pain and strained to get up, but the magic sigils which had been chalked around her blazed with a strange pale light and her body slammed back to the hard cement floor. Her tail lashed back and forth wildly, hard enough that it hurt when its tip smacked against the wall, and her wings beat futilely to break out of the iron bindings that bent then flat against her back. “You sure we can’t work this out?” she asked in the best ‘temptation’ voice she could muster despite her pain. “I can give you power, wealth, fame…”

“I need no fame, demon scum,” boomed the exorcist who had bound her. He was an older man whose hair was going silver and who wore what looked like a cross between a priest’s cassock and a military uniform. He had a sword at his side whose blade was carved with holy sigils, and a few other exorcist accoutrements hung off his belt. Now he raised a book high while his eyes, which seemed almost to be trying to bulge out of his head, fixated on her. “All I need is the knowledge that you shall be destroyed forever, as God intended!”

Alya bit back a curse. She was still mad at herself for letting this guy get the jump on her, but by the time she’d realized that she was being followed, he was close enough to use some kind of magic spell to make her pass out. She’d awoken in what looked like a cheap basement, with a cement floor and bare plaster on the walls, and with sigils and iron bonds preventing her from escaping. “You can’t destroy me forever,” she snapped. “You might be able to banish me back to Hell, but I’ll be back on Earth eventually.”

Of course, that wasn’t a great scenario for Alya. Not only would she get in trouble for losing a fight with an exorcist, and not only would she fall behind on her soul quota, but her classmates wouldn’t know where she’d gone. It would be just like she’d abandoned them. And Alya couldn’t bear to think of how sad Juleka would be if Alya cut and run, or the rest of her cult, or… or Marinette. Alya knew Marinette would be devastated, and she desperately wanted that not to happen, but there didn’t seem to be anything she could do about it.

Then the man laughed. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you little depraved beast? You’d love to be able to turn and wreck havoc once more. But I’ve found a way around it!” He tossed a little voodoo doll next to Alya. “I will bind your spiritual essence to this doll, then burn it. As the doll crumbles in the flame your spiritual essence will be split asunder. When I’m done you’ll be little more than millions of tiny bits of demon, each tied to a tiny bit of ash, and that ash scattered to the winds.” He grinned. “It could take thousands of years for the bindings to weaken enough for you to reconstitute yourself and even begin trying to regain a corporal form. And seeing as how you’ll be in utter agony the entire time, I highly doubt you’ll be sane enough to tempt any more innocents into your clutches!”

Alya gasped. What the man proposed might actually work, and would subject her to millennia of torture. And worse than that… by the time she put herself back together, her classmates would have been dead for millennia. She’d never see them again unless they went to Hell. And she’d never see Marinette, period, because that girl was so pure she’d surely get rushed right to Heaven the moment she died. 

She’d never see her best friend again. 

“You can’t do this!” Alya said, almost ashamed of how terrified her voice was but not being able to help it. “Please!”

“Silence, demon scum,” said the exorcist. “All your kind deserve this.” He began to chant, and Alya cried out in pain as she felt her essence being pulled towards the doll. She tried to fight it—

And then the door to the basement smashed open.

By the time Alya realized what was happening, she saw Rose—holding a flaming sword, wings spread to their full length, halo blazing such a righteous fire above her head that Alya could barely look at it—looming over the man, whom had been knocked into the wall and slid down. “YOU DON’T DO THIS!” screamed Rose in genuine rage. “EVER!”

The man stared at Rose in terrified shock. Rose glared at him, then turned to Alya and swung her sword at the sigils. They burst into a bright flash of light and vanished as soon as her holy blade touched them, and Alya was able to scrambled out of the former circle. A couple quick, careful strokes of Rose’s sword sliced the iron bindings from Alya’s back, and she sighed with relief as she stretched her wings.

“What are you doing?“ the man demanded. “Don’t free her! You are an angel, you must support our battles against demons. They are evil beasts who tempt others, so it is right that we hurt them! That we banish them and make them suffer all the pain they have inflicted—“

“IT IS NOT YOURS TO JUDGE!” screamed Rose loud enough that the man flinched back. She took an angry breath and said, “If a demon is doing something bad, then it is permissible to oppose that demon. I have opposed demons who were about to hurt or damn someone. But Alya was doing nothing, and even if she was, ‘opposing’ does not mean ‘torturing!’” She took a step closer and raised her sword. “The job of a holy warrior is never to inflict pain for the sake of doing so! To never do more damage than necessary to fight evil, to always show mercy where possible and encourage others to repent!” The fire on her blade blazed higher. “YOU ARE NO PALADIN!” she went on, tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes. “YOU ARE JUST A KILLER, AND—“

Alya hesitated, feeling on one hand that she really wanted to see this guy get absolutely thrashed by Rose, but knowing on the other she had an obligation to her friend. “Woah, woah, hold it,” said Alya as she quickly grabbed Rose’s hand to stop her from stabbing the exorcist. “He’s defeated, okay? You don’t need to kill him.”

“But he tried to kill you!” Rose said through teary-eyes. “You’re one of my best friends—“

“And I’m here to remind you that the stuff you said about you guys not being supposed to do more damage than needed applies to you too.” Alya bit her lip and looked at the exorcist who was now trembling with fear, his glee at his earlier successful tortures of Alya having seemingly already been forgotten. “Look, Rose, even if you can get away with killing the guy and not Fall or be stripped of your angelic status, you’ll still hate yourself for it tomorrow.”

The exorcist stared at Alya with bewildered eyes. “You are a demon!” he rasped. “You want her to Fall! I know it! All demons want angels to Fall!”

Alya frowned. “She’s my friend,” she snapped. “That’s more important the feud between our bosses.”

Rose was still standing with her blade raised. “But he hurt you,” she whispered. “You’re wonderful, and he hurt you, and I can’t just let that go.”

“Who said anything about letting it go?” Alya said. “Like, he tried to torture me to death. That’s really evil, so I’m pretty sure his soul’ll go to us when he dies, and that means we’ll have all eternity to get back at him.” Unless he repented and went to Heaven in the end, Alya thought, and if he did… well, that would be a bummer. She really wanted to get her claws at this guy. But she’d rather let this guy have that chance than have Rose kill him right there and suffer regret for it every day after for all her eternal life. “And even setting that aside, I can get the guy in jail with my Whisper powers. That way we know he can’t hurt anyone else.”

Rose was still hesitating, so Alya gently helped her lower the sword. “He’s not worth it,” she said. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Finally, still trembling with rage and sorrow, Rose let Alya escort her out of the basement.

###

It only took Alya about ten minutes to jail the guy. She was quite skilled with Whisper, the power of demons to, well, whisper evil or hurtful thoughts into the minds of unsuspecting mortals. During her training she had learned how to convince humans that everyone hated them and was only pretending to befriend them out of pity, or that their spouse was cheating on them, or that—whatever the priest at church said—they really had done something beyond forgiveness and so might as well go forth and sin some more.

Now, though, Alya used that power to Whisper into the fanatic’s head. “There are demons everywhere!” she whispered. “In that trash can! On that curb! On top of that police car! If you don’t fight them, they’ll destroy Paris!”

The fanatic raved and ran around, swinging his sword wildly at the demons his mind convinced him were all around him. That, of course, led to police officers swarming and tackling him. Alya smiled as she watched Roger Raincomprix bundle him into his police car and take him away, saying something about asylums and institutionalization. “He won’t be bothering anyone ever again,” she said. Then she turned to Rose. “How did you find me?”

“You didn’t show up for that thing you were doing with Juleka,” Rose said. Both girls were hiding their spiritual forms and looked fully human, but Alya got the sense that if Rose’s wings had been visible they would have been curling around her like a cocoon. “She got worried and used a spell from your library to track you down. I was closer so I got to your first, but she’ll probably be here soon too.”

“I should text her to let her know I’m alright,” Alya noted. She took her phone, which the fanatic had left in a corner of the basement and which Alya had reclaimed, and sent a message to Juleka. “Want to get home?”

Rose nodded weakly.

Alya frowned. “Don’t beat yourself up over losing your temper,” she said. “It happens to all of us.”

“Sure.” Rose shrugged. “Uh huh.”

Alya paused. Clearly, she thought, Rose needed more help. And now that Alya was out of her bonds and was back in action, she was just the girl to help her. “Anyways, I’m going back to my place, and you’re coming too,” she announced.

Rose blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I said, we’re going to my place,” Alya announced. “Come on, Rose. You saved my life and I owe you one. Let’s get going.”

Rose clearly didn’t know what was going on, but she smiled a little and let herself be dragged along.

###

When the pair got back to Alya’s apartment, they dropped their guises and Alya sighed as she flopped back in her bed. “I never thought I’d see this bed again,” she murmured. “I didn’t think I’d see you, or Juleka, or… or Marinette again either.” She shut her eyes, knowing how badly she would have been hurt to never see the adorable fashion designer, and also knowing how much pain Marinette would have been in if Alya had just vanished. “Thank you again, Rose.”

Rose nodded weakly.

Alya got Rose over to the couch and settled down with her. “Why are you still sad?” she asked.

Rose hesitated, and Alya said, “If you don’t want to share it with me, that’s fine. We can just rest here; I’ll put on some cartoons or something until we both feel better. But if you’re sad, you can talk to me.”

It took a few moments for Rose to say something, during which time she slumped over and snuggled against Alya. One of her wings tickled Alya’s nose and she sneezed, which made Rose giggle. Then Rose cuddled deeper against Alya and said, “Am I a bad angel?”

“No way!” Alya said. “You’re awesome at what you do, and I’m saying that even though what you do makes it harder to me to tempt souls a lot of the time.”

Rose smiled at that. “But I almost didn’t save you,” she said. “And I almost murdered that guy after he was already defeated.”

“You did save me in the end, which is what counts,” Alya said. “You did your job. And while you got mad at the fanatic, you didn’t kill him.” She paused. “We’ve never had an all-out fight, so I can’t say for sure what would have happened if you’d tried to break my grip and kill the guy, but based on what I know of you I think you could probably have thrown me aside and killed the fanatic if you really wanted to do so. You didn’t, so you knew on some level killing him was wrong.”

“Right, but I still want him to suffer for what he did to you,” said Rose. “And I’m not supposed to. Angels aren’t supposed to hate, even when we’re fighting evil.”

“I’m not exactly an expert on what you guys believe,” Alya said slowly. “Since we demons and devils have a different system. But I think I read somewhere that your boss is really big on forgiveness and understands that everyone screws up sometimes. I don’t think He’d want you beating yourself up like this, and I think He’d be satisfied with how you saved the victim—me—and didn’t do any more damage to the guy once he wasn’t a threat anymore.”

Rose mulled that over for a few moments. “You really think so?”

“Sure,” said Alya. “Besides, any God who would get mad at you over—what, yelling a bit after stopping a torturer?—wouldn’t be a God worth worshipping.”

“Don’t say that about God,” murmured Rose, but she sounded a lot calmer. “That makes sense, though. Thanks, Alya.”

“Happy to help.” Alya gingerly scratched at the base of Rose’s wings, and she sighed in contentment.

“You know,” said Rose after a few moments of that, “You’d make a good angel.”

Alya jolted in shock at that, and Rose laughed. “Don’t say that!” Alya feebly protested. “Seriously, I—I would not want that job. I don’t like the idea that I’d have to be nice all the time because my boss demanded it. I like what I am, where I have the freedom to be how I want.” She realized she was blushing and tried to make herself stop. “Besides, I’m not that nice in general,” she went on. “You’re an exception.”

“Nah,” said Rose. “You’re nice. If you wanted to be an angel you’d be great at it.” She chuckled, and then she asked, “But I’m curious about one thing. That guy said that demons want angels to Fall, but you worked really hard to stop me from Falling today. Was that just because we’re friends, or do you oppose angels falling in general?”

Alya didn’t know why, but she was blushing again. “Uh,” she began. “Look, I’m all about freedom. That’s why I like my side of things in the first place. I think you should have freedom too, and if I thought you really, truly wanted to Fall, then I would offer my help to you—you know, finding some sin for you to commit that wouldn’t do anything too bad or hurt anyone you didn’t want to suffer—so you could live as you wished. But I know you, and I know that in your heart you don’t want to do anything so bad that you Fall. You like being a holy angel warrior for God. You love being able to spread blessings and help usher souls into eternal bliss. And if that’s your choice, I want to help you maintain it. Because we’re friends.”

The idea of friendship was still a new one to Alya, who of course came from a place where there was no such thing as friendship, where everyone was out for themselves and anyone dumb enough to admit to weakness would find that weakness mercilessly exploited by classmates, neighbors, and random strangers. But now that she was in the human world, she had friends, and she found that she liked it. (Granted, she had to keep her friendships hidden from her bosses—especially her friendship with Rose—but she was a demon and deceit came naturally to her, so that wasn’t too hard.)

Rose smiled gently. “I’m glad we’re friends,” she said.

The two stayed still for a few moments before Rose reluctantly raised herself up. “I guess I should go,” she said. “I’m sure you and Juleka need to do whatever you were planning on doing before you got abducted.”

“We were just planning on watching some fun anime and having some snacks,” said Alya. Then, as if on cue, she heard a knock on the door and grinned. “It’s open!” she called. Then she turned to Rose and said, “When I texted her earlier, I told her to get back to my place so we could resume our plans. That must be her now.”

Rose tried to get up, but Alya wrapped her tail around Rose and tugged her back down. “I don’t want to get in the way,” Rose said quickly. “I’ll leave.”

“No, you’ll join us,” corrected Alya. “Because this is my room, so I can invite who I want, and I want you here. Because this is my cult, so Juleka has to do what I say, and I say you get to stay.” Her eyes twinkled. “And because I know you and Juleka love spending time together, and so since you also had kind of a rough day, a little time with your favorite paladin and my favorite priestess is just what Dr. Alya ordered.”

Rose grinned at that. 

Then Juleka entered the room carrying a bag.  As soon as her gaze fell upon Rose she smiled brightly, and Rose returned that smile. “Alright,” Juleka said. “I’ve got the DVD for that anime you told me to find, ‘Kill La Kill,’ and your snacks.” She took some cups out of the bag. “Three hot chocolates—one with cinnamon, because I know that’s your favorite, Rose—some microwave popcorn, and pastries from the Dupain-Cheng bakery.” She paused. “Marinette told me she’ll be free in an hour or so. Would you want me to invite her?”

“Sure!” said Alya at once. She’d have to hide her demon form once Marinette arrived, of course, but it would be worth it to hang out with the fashion designer. Marinette always seemed to brighten up any room. “And thanks for helping Rose save me with the tracking spell. I owe you one.”

Juleka waved that off. “It’s a friend thing,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”

Such a sentence was something Alya would never, ever have heard in the demon world. Debts there were jealously maintained. But she liked this way, she found… even if she did intend on finding some way to reward Juleka for saving her life. “Sure,” she said to change the subject. “But I still appreciate it. Anyway, what kind of pastries did you get?”

“Angel food cake for Rose, lemon cake for me, and chili-chocolate cake for you,” said Juleka as she passed out the treats. Rose sniffed her cake and sighed at how wonderful it smelled. “I’ll pop in the DVD and then we can start the show.”

Juleka did so and then sat on Rose’s other side. Rose grinned and spread her wings wide enough to give partial hugs to both Alya and Juleka, and Alya’s tail flicked a bit before running against the other two girls’ backs. Rose giggled. “That tickles!” she said.

“Sorry,” drawled Alya. She bit into the delicious cake and grinned. Chili and chocolate was a hard combination to get right, but the Dupain-Cheng family were masters, and the cake was absolutely perfect. “My bad.”

“You’re not sorry,” said Juleka lightly. “That’s a lie.”

“Well, lying’s a sin,” chirped Alya. “And as a demon, that’s kind of my thing.”

Both of the other girls laughed, and then Rose draped her arms as well as her wings around the other two. Juleka hit the button on the remote and the show started.

Alya sighed, her pains from earlier almost completely forgotten as she relaxed with her friends. The human world was good, she thought. She was very glad she hadn’t been kicked out of it. And she’d try to stay in it—and be with the people she cared about, including the wonderful angel and the amazing human currently sitting on her couch—for as long as she could.

———

AW THAT WAS WONDERFUL

GO ROSE

I like how its been decided that between Rose and Alya theres a bad cop and good cop dynamic going on

Alya is the good cop

[dumpsiteforfics]

Missing Piece

Fandom : Criminal minds

Pairing : Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid

Genre : angst and fluff probably? At least happy ending lmao!

Warnings : 16 years age difference, but both are well above legal age. Just heads-up, it references all our important Hotch reid moments from seasons 1 to 3.

This is just a oneshot? Or drabble probably which I wanted to write after reading this prompt! The section which is in bold and italics is copied as it as from prompt!!

******†******

"I love you Aaron, and I want to be with you!!"

Those were the words Aaron never thought he would hear, not from this person that he was so in love with! Spencer Reid was epitome of everything Aaron ever wanted from his life, and everything he never thought he deserved to have! He can't pinpoint the exact moment it all started, but he can remember the exact moment he realised he had fallen for the younger man.

It was in that grave all those years ago, when he was helping Spencer get up after shooting Tobias Hankel, a name he would never forget! He had never been this scared for someone else's life before, and that's saying something because with the job he had, there were so many lives he saved on a routine basis. But he could still remember in detail how his chest felt like someone had put bricks on it, how his brain was in constant thoughts of what if they lose their agent, what if they lose Spencer? Their youngest agent, he was so young!! And he was in the hands of a psychopath and he had still fought the mad man, despite being beaten, being kidnapped and tortured at some remote location away from any help, he somehow fought back and used his brain to get help.

And when Aaron pulled Spencer up and into his arms, he felt like his missing piece was found. That hug lasted just for a few seconds but Aaron felt eternal gratitude in those moments. And then Spencer gasped out, I knew you would understand!!

And Aaron still wakes up from nightmares where he somehow fails to understand Spencer's clue and that results in the horrific death of the younger man. And Aaron lays awake, gasping and shuddering, struggling to calm himself and trying hard not to dial Spencer's number just to confirm that he is indeed alive.

And then Chester Hardwick came and he had the audacity to threaten Spencer in front of him, and Aaron would never let anyone get away with that. And he was so ready to kill Hardwick with his bare hands but Spencer, yet again saved them.

Just like all those years ago when he killed Philip Dowd and saved Aaron, like how he killed Tobias and saved Aaron, he yet again saved Aaron again this time by making use of his sharp tongue and unstoppable brain.

And the words that Aaron never wanted to let out, poured out of his mouth as he admitted his relationship problems to Spencer.

What I want, I'm never going to get!!

But now, Spencer is standing in front of him, they have just wrapped up the bombing case and he had said goodbye to Kate with a heavy heart, just one more person he lost to this job.

He came back home to find Spencer waiting for him. Aaron was worried to see Spencer with this Haunted look in his eyes. They went inside and before he could ask him anything Spencer was spilling out his every feeling.

He had never seen Spencer like this, so desperate, so needy, so fiercely wanting… And all Aaron wants is to pull the younger man in his arms and just escape from the reality that's keeping them apart! But he can't. No matter what they want, they have to think carefully. Spencer, even with his gifted IQ and old soul, is still just so much younger than him. 16 years. That's too many years in between, probably a generation gap you can call even.

And Aaron is thinking about those predators they hunt, those who prey on younglings. Was he one of those? Was he attracted to Spencer's pretty face and young age? No! He was attracted to Spencer's heart, the heart that never stopped giving despite never receiving much love, he was attracted to Spencer's courage that made the man so much more admirable than he already was, he was attracted to Spencer's mind, too beautiful despite the fractures it might bore in future, he was attracted to Spencer's soul, kindest despite the horrors he sees everyday.

But he should try to lay all the cards down, he is old , he is just a boring agent who has trouble expressing his emotions! He is an agent who is more dedicated to his job and all the unknown faces who need saving than his own family. He is a man who will never think twice before jumping into fire if it meant he could save someone's life. And he tries to portray it through words!

Spencer is just listening, his heart so easily readable through those hazel eyes and Aaron has to keep looking somewhere else to continue talking.

"Spencer, I appreciate your feelings, and I do return them! God! I have been returning them probably even before I realised I had feelings for you. But, we can't be together. We are too different, you are too young and I'm just too old. You have this life waiting for you whereas I have already been through my half. I don't want to tie you down to me when you have so much more to live for. So much time which I might even not have. The thing about time is, the older you get, the faster it goes,” he said. “Tomorrow, you will be my age, and I will be dead.”

And Spencer looks up in Aaron's eyes, understanding everything words could never explain.

"But Aaron, I don't even have you to lose. You are just so out of my reach despite the efforts I take to be closer! I don't care about your age Aaron, I don't care how short or long life we might have unless it's together! I yearn for you Aaron! Do you even know how much?"

"And you are talking about dying when we both know we have probably equal chances of dying tomorrow with the job we have. We understand each other Aaron, there is this deep understanding which stems from never-ending trust that we have on each other. I gave you a clue even when I was delirious from drugs and wasn't even sure you'll be listening, and you understood it Aaron. And you think we should just let go of this beautiful bond because of something as trivial as age gap? I would've understood it if I was underage or just barely 20, but Aaron I'm in my thirties and I'm yet to find a person who came as close to understanding me as you do!"

Spencer is all but sniffing now, and Aaron's heart breaks all over again.

"I don't give a shit about the reasons why we should not be together Aaron, I only care about one reason why we should be! And that's, I love you as much as you love me back! And that should be enough! For once, let that be enough reason Aaron, let us be enough for each other!! "

And Aaron couldn't stop his heart from skipping a beat. Let us be enough for each other! Wasn't that what Aaron wanted his entire life? To be enough for someone? And he is maybe getting it now, and what does he have to lose anyways?

He took a shuddering breath before saying, "Well I have given you enough chances to back out of it, now you don't get more chances. You are going to have to be in my life, as my whole heart till the day I die."

And then the wide smile he got in response made his heart almost stop but he decided if he could die now, at least he'll die happy.

Before he could spend more time muling over those unnecessary thoughts Spencer pulled him in a hug, his arms going around Aaron's shoulder as Aaron's own looped around his waist. And there was that feeling again, like he found his missing piece!!!

[mybg3notebook]

Astarion and Power - Part 1

Disclaimer Game Version: All these analyses were made up to the game version v4.1.101.4425. As long as new content is added, and as long as I have free time for that, I will try to keep updating this information.

Additional disclaimers about meta-knowledge and interpretations in (post)

The number between brackets [] represents the topic-block related to (this post), which gathers as much evidence as I could get.

Before talking about Power, Cazador, and other details, I would like to quickly gather what little we have about Astarion’s past. 

Backstory: Mortal Astarion.

About his past we have little information, mostly given by Swen in interviews with game magazines or via his on-live demonstrations of the game early in 2020 before the release of EA. All this information is subjected to changes, of course, so we should take it with a pinch of salt. 

As a mortal, Astarion was a corrupt magistrate who judged criminals he later sent to the local vampire coven of the Szarr family as food. After a while, his greed got the best of him and started to sell those criminals into slavery as well, having a double profit from this. This movement brought the fury of the Szarr family upon him. 

From this short story we can infer that there was a high probability that his judgements were unfair, condemning criminals who needed a death sentence to lighter ones (this is related to his strange comment of “death is a harsh sentence” in Arabella’s scene, see the post Astarion's Standards and Manipulation) while condemning innocent ones; all with the goal of having a decent amount of living creatures to offer to the local vampire or to the slave traders.

We also know, by his own words in game, that when he was turned into a vampire, he had been the victim of an attack of thugs/Gurs (he says this information in different moments of the game, changing details. I don't know if this is on purpose to show Astarion’s manipulative nature depending on your reaction to Gandrel, or it’s a consequence of unpolished details during EA). What we know for sure is that these Gurs/thugs were angry because of a judgement he had previously made. It’s easy for us to infer, using the info above, two situations:

Astarion may have condemned some isolated Gur to an unfair trial who ended up in a slavery network, being discovered later by their Gur fellows who simply avenged them in Baldur’s Gate. This theory has been developed as a way to see fit the concept of Maiden Fel.  If Gandrel dies and Astarion performs a Speak with Dead, he will reveal that Maiden Fel is the head of his tribe who asked him to return with Astarion “unblemished”. Digging for more details about who Maiden Fel is, Gandrel says she is the “reason even monsters have nightmares”. Walking on the speculation ground, there is a chance that Maiden Fel could be a nightmare Hag, since Gurs consider hags as “wise women'', and unlike the rest of the humans, they respect them a bit more than common folks.

Or the whole setting was done by Cazador, who plotted this ambush to make it look as an act of barbarism using furious Gurs (which attack could be seen as an obvious reaction since Gurs are despised everywhere due to their nomadic lifestyle and all the stigmas they carry) as a way to punish Astarion for trying to outsmart him.

Among the many conclusions that we can draw from here is that, if Astarion’s backstory is not retconned and rewritten later in the full game, we can be almost sure he was an Evil-aligned character as a mortal. We can’t say that vampirism twisted his morals; they were rather poor in the first place. 

Astarion, the Vampire spawn

After the bite scene, Astarion presents himself as a vampire spawn, a creature lesser than a slave for his master, since Cazador’s commands are impossible to resist. He explicitly says that his body always reacts to Cazador’s word and for two hundred years he was tormented by him. Thanks to datamining information, we know that Cazador performed an infernal deal, and part of the contract is carved on his back. 

Due to datamining information as well, we know that the first dream that Astarion experiences may not be the one related to the tadpole dreams mechanics since he dreams without having made use of the tadpole powers yet. I prefer to suppose that this dream is product of his own psychology, or even it could be an effect of Cazador’s power on him (maybe he can’t dream of anything but of his Sire, considering how possessive Cazador is)

As I said, this is not a dream of power and desire in the same way that the other companions or Tav have, and for this reason I’m inclined to say that the vampiric power of Cazador is the one making an effect instead of the tadpole (or simply Astarion’s trauma showing). This dream looks like a reminder, like a reiterative dream for Astarion about Cazador’s rule, which are:

rule 1: he will not drink from thinking creatures.

rule 2: he will obey him in all things.

rule 3: he will not leave Cazador’s side unless directed.

rule 4: he will know that he is Cazador’s proprietary.

Most options end up in the similar idea of: “Free? Lie to yourself, boy, but not to me. You are mine, forever.”

Cazador and Astarion

[Astarion has just related what Cazador made him eat] “Flies? What did you do to deserve that?”

“I existed, that was enough for him. He revelled in having power over me, because those with power can do whatever the hell they want.”

If we are going to talk about power with a character as Astarion in mind, we need to talk first about Cazador. Let’s start with the way Astarion describes him:

“The biggest threat to a vampire is another vampire. They're scheming, paranoid, power hungry beasts. So why would any vampire give up control over a spawn to create a competitor? Trust me, it doesn't happen.”

“Cazador Szarr is a vampire lord in Baldur’s Gate. The patriarch of his coven and a monster obsessed with power.(...) Not political power or military power. Power over people. The power to control them completely. (...) He turned me nearly two hundred years ago. I became his spawn and he became my tormentor.” 

“He had me go out Baldur’s Gate to fetch him the most beautiful souls I could find. It was a fun little ritual of his—I’d bring them back and he’d ask if I wanted to dine with him. And if I said yes, he’d serve me a dead, putrid rat. Of course if I said no, he’d have me flayed. Hard to say which was worse.”

“Cazador liked to make them art, spent all night with a razor, drafting a sonnet on my back. (Puppy eyes) Apparently the more I screamed, the more mistakes he made. And the more editing was required.”

“It was a group of Gur/thugs that attacked me that night in Baldur’s Gate. I would have died had Cazador not appeared and saved me. (...) He chased them off and offered to save me. To give me eternal life. Given that my choices were “eternal life” or “bleed to death on the street”, I took him up on the offer. It was also afterwards I realised just how long “eternity” could be.” 

“Cazador likes to toy with people. Let them think there was hope right until the end. Until he snatched it all away. Creatures like them don’t play games unless they know they’ll win.” 

(About Raphael’s encounter) “All that 'take your time. I'll wait' nonsense? He's playing with us. It reminds me of Cazador, taunting his slaves with hope when he knew the game was rigged. "

Tav: “Would he send another Gur to capture?” / Ast: “Yes, he probably thought it was funny.”

(“We can kill him.”) “No, you don't understand. You don't know him. Just trust me when I say we need to be careful. He'll send more lackies – he has plenty of souls to command. We just have to be vigilant. Keep our wits about us. And kill any monster hunters on sight. We can probably make an exception with Wyll... Probably.”

>>So far we know that Cazador has a particular pleasure for control, especially the one related to people’s will. With the nightmare information, we know he has powers related to mind control. He has many slaves, and enjoys cruelty, humiliation, and torture. He enjoys making Astarion eat putrid animals, carving his back with an infernal contract, and playing psychologically with him. He also likes to give false hope, making his victims believe that there is hope, removing it right in front of them. 

I want to highlight that this twisted way of giving hope just to offer a perverted solution to a person’s problem, and enjoying the pleasure caused by the break of the hope, can be seen in Astarion during EA: in the approval that Astarion gives to Tav when you revive Connor, and that pinch of hope in Mayrina turns into horror when she sees Undead!Connor. For Astarion this situation is “funny”. Similar can be said when he approves telling Arabella’s parents that she will be released after the end of the ritual, when she is in fact dead. 

Astarion describes a bit more what power we should expect from a Lord Vampire:

Shapeshift: turning into mist.

Calling wolves to do his bidding.

Shrugging off blows.

He “could walk into our camp tonight and kill you with his bare hands.”

Astarion and Slavery

One of the characteristics that so far in EA has got my attention was how little conflict Astarion has with slavery, despite having been his former condition. 

He is apathetic to slavery in the best case, or even supporting it in the worse case. Proof of this can be found in the Myconid Colony, when interacting with a duergar slave. He speaks as if it were a totally useful tool that inspires little sympathy in him, since they don't have consciousness. However, he leaves a quite open question when finally adding “Or maybe not”.

But this “maybe not” is not left to speculation, we can see what Astarion truly feels with a non-Gur human slave in another part of the game: in the Zhentarim hideout. This can be checked with Oskar, the painter slave.

You can free Oskar using persuasion with his kidnapper (Astarion keeps neutral, he doesn’t approve the freeing). Now, if you can buy Oskar by paying the gold directly or by using intimidation to lower the price, it would keep Astarion neutral until the moment of the payment is stated, which he disapproves. At first I thought it was because he was truly against slavery of thinking creatures... but it was not. It was because you are paying a lot of money (we need to remember Astarion is greedy [1] as well, he wouldn’t be a vampire if it weren't for his greed). 

Once bought, if you keep Oskar as a slave, and you demand him to keep silent because "you want your slaves silent unless they are spoken to", Oskar will think it's a joke, and you, again, can use the option "I don't joke with my slaves" and then Astarion will approve. None of these options is under any tag to make them believe they are part of a preformative act to prank Oskar. And this is key... this is not a joke. They are used as your real sentiments and intentions, and Astarion approves them.

These reactions are not random, they make sense with his—until this moment unchanged or retconned—backstory, where he had no problem trafficking with criminals as vampire food and later as slaves to have higher profits. So, these two aspects remain in his vampire nature unaltered: the most important thing is always to have profits, and his relationship with slavery is absolutely fine as much as it gives benefits, it’s useful or at least, gives him some entertainment.

The tadpole

We know the tadpole has a particular effect on Astarion. Unlike the other companions, Astarion doesn’t dream of a person who represents to him both desire and power. Power? undoubtedly, but desire? It’s hard to say. The implied, vague concept that Astarion has been sexually abused by Cazador is there (because we know these dreams are about “sensual” desire as well). 

It’s maybe a consequence of the vampirism and, by extension, of Cazador’s power, that makes Astarion unable to dream of anything else but his master. From the datamining information about the non-tadpole dream of Astarion, in which Cazador lists four rules, we know that the fourth one is about never stopping to be Cazador’s propriety, unable to be free, not even in dreams. Maybe Cazador’s effect also applies to Astarion’s dreams as well (but this is a mere speculation, there is no real proof of it on EA or datamining info so far). 

So when Astarion awakes in the beach and sees that some rules of his vampiric nature have been changed, he gets excited about the tadpole, and unlike the rest of the companions, he doesn’t want to get rid of it. He wants to master it, to have control of it. However, when the opportunity of controlling the tadpole appears with Raphael encounter, Astarion is one of the few companions who is completely against it at first. 

“Raphael is playing with us; Cazador liked to toy with people too. Let them think there was hope right until the end. Until he snatched it all away. Creatures like them don't play games unless they know they'll win.”

In that moment, he claims he won’t change a vampiric master for an infernal one. However, when the first use of the Tadpole causes the first symptoms of transformation evident, Astarion falls in despair: he is scared and, calling for Raphael to take him from the camp, he says a curious phrase: 

“I would choose servitude over oblivion any day”

So, after this moment, he is not completely convinced that Raphael is the true solution to his problem but he is more open to keep him as a plan B if anything else fails. Later he claims that it doesn't matter to be a servant of a devil, because he knows Cazador, and he wants to get rid of his power for good. 

“I won't lie, it's tempting. If I keep the tadpole, I risk transforming into a grotesque monster. If I lose the tadpole, Cazador has control of me, body and soul, and I return to the shadows. It's grim either way, so why not sell what's left of my soul to a devil? Better he has it than cazador. Whatever it's coming we need to have our options open.”

Astarion’s process of seeing the potential of the power of the tadpole increases along the game. It gets higher and wilder. The first instances of the tadpole use are about Astarion discovering how much this tadpole gives him powers he can barely understand. 

“The tadpoles are not so bad at all. (...) First I can walk in the sun, then make people dance like puppets? *laughs * I've certainly had worse days.”

He is not an idiot, he knows that, without control, they will end up turning into mind flayers, so he needs to find something powerful that can give him control over his tadpole. This is the reason why he encourages the use of the tadpole after knowing about the netherese magic containing the transformation via Omellun or Ethel.

Ethel explains that the tadpole had been tampered, so the dialogue goes:

Tav: “It's giving us more time, sounds good to me”. 

Astarion: “Perhaps. And who's to say it can't be tampered with further?” (She said it was netherese magic) “it must be powerful magic to stop the parasite in its tracks, I wonder what else it could do?

At that point in the story, he knows that the netherese magic is powerful enough to contain the transformation: so he is now sure that there is more time to use it. So he will end up being the only companion in EA who encourages everyone to use the power:

“What's not to enjoy (with this tadpole)? I can walk in sunlight, trespass upon any home, manipulate minds – I'm the most powerful vampire in the realms. Granted, the looming doom is an issue, but why not enjoy the benefits while we can?

Despite the nightmares happening after every use of the tadpole powers, Astarion doesn’t want to stop. At this point, he is the only companion who doesn’t want to. 

“The power to twist a mind to your will is worth some nightmares.”

By the end of the game, we are sure that Astarion wants this power without doubts. He revels in the power of mind-controlling people, ironically, despite having suffered so much of it under Cazador’s control. If we see all the situations where Astarion’s mind is controlled, or violated, his reactions will be extremely more aggressive than the other companions. He has suffered it a lot, but by the end of EA he is enjoying being on the other side of that power. 

This post was written on April 2021. → For more Astarion: Analysis Series Index

[fatiguing-thoughts]

“Wanna Dance?” - Alice Cullen

Request: heyaaa! can you make alice x fem reader imagine in which the reader is a new cullen family member and as the time goes realizes that she is in love with Alice and decides to tell her at edward's wedding night? that would be so cute, imagine they both in a pretty dress and such. 🥺 💞

After what feels like years, but truly was only weeks-- it was finally the night before Bella and Edward’s wedding. Alice recruited me to be her right-hand-man, as she was planning the entire thing. Living with the Cullens for the last year was truly an other worldly experience, but I had never expected one of us to marry a human. Mostly because almost all of us already had found our mates. 

Almost. 

Thankfully, Carlisle and Esme took me in about a year ago as I was a stray newborn-- unsure of my creator, lost in the world. I had no idea what I had become. Jasper was an incredible help in getting through my newborn stage-- as was Alice.

They arrived at the Cullens’ home decades ago, Alice knowing what was in store for them. She knew Jasper would find his mate here eventually, so it was up to her to bring him there. Eventually, he did find his mate, Tanya. Then it left her and Edward in search of a mate. Finally, Edward met Bella, leaving just Alice to be the only one left. 

I immediately felt so drawn to Alice, knowing deep down that she was probably my mate-- however she showed no interest other than being my friend. I always thought she was my mate, but if she were-- wouldn’t it be mutual? Wouldn’t we be soul mates? I must be misreading what I’m feeling, that or I am just really cursed. 

Could I be cursed? 

I sit on the porch outside wondering this to myself before I hear the soft footsteps of the gorgeous vampire in question. Her scent driving me to a place of pure ecstasy. 

“So, are you excited for tomorrow?” She cheerfully asks me.

“Yeah, for sure. We’re going to do her makeup right, Rose has got her hair?” I inquire, trying to keep a conversation going, trying not to wallow. 

“Yes. I can’t wait. I love weddings.” She giggles. 

And for one second, our eyes met. I felt everything around me stop, just like usual. 

And in that moment, I knew for sure Alice was always going to be everything I would ever need. I just wish she felt the same. 

“Yeah, me too. Though I’ve only been to like two, I think.” I chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. 

“Oh yes, I forget how young you are sometimes.” She laughs lowly. 

“Yeah, just me. Only a fresh twenty. Haven’t surpassed decades yet.” I chime in. 

She smiles at me before I look off into the treeline. The atmosphere between us is dead quiet, despite an owl we hear in the distance. Even though it is quiet, I feel at peace knowing Alice is only a mere few feet from me. 

We sit in silence for a few moments before Esme calls me inside.

“(Y/N), if you don’t mind, would you like to accompany me on a walk?” She offers. 

Esme had become like a second mother to me. I appreciate everything her and Carlisle have done for me. She was always my shoulder to cry on, when I first turned and now-- knowing my predicament and supporting me the best she could. 

I always told her to never tell me anything on Alice’s end, as I couldn’t possibly handle to hear it. Anything Alice felt, or did not feel, I wanted to hear from Alice. Not Esme, Edward, Carlisle, or anyone else. I appreciated the secrecy the three provided me. Jasper definitely felt my feelings, but always kept it to himself, never mentioning it once. I thank him for that more often than I would like to admit. 

Though her and I would go hunting or on little trips together quite often, I knew she was here to save me from this situation. She knew how I felt in times like these, the awkward silence. 

“Of course.” I look up at her and nod. 

“I’ll see you in the morning.” Alice says before I leave. 

“Bright and early.” I smile at her. 

I walk off into the treeline following a smiling Esme. We sped off into the night until we get to my favorite clearing, just before hitting Canada. 

“So, how are you?” She asks me. 

“I’m okay, I just don’t understand anything anymore. Sometimes I think she really is my mate, other times I think that if she were I wouldn’t be sitting in this situation. Unless I’m cursed and my mate doesn’t feel the same.” I look at her with sad eyes. 

“Oh honey, you aren’t cursed.” She hugs me, pulling me in tight. 

“It feels like it.” I tell her honestly. 

“I know, but things will make sense soon. I know it’s hard right now. You’re going through so much right now. And with the wedding I know you’ll have a hard time because all of the people there. I know you’ll do great. We all do. But don’t let this hurt you too much, you’re gonna have fun tomorrow. You’ll have fun with all of us, especially Alice.” She smiled and winked at me. 

“Thank you Esme. I’m really nervous about tomorrow. For Alice reasons, and people reasons. But I think I’ve got the vampire thing under control, it’s just the Alice thing that gets me out of it.” I look at her, hope leaving my eyes by the second. 

“Oh honey, don’t mope. I hate to see you so sad. You’re going to be so happy soon, I just know it. You just have to let yourself, stop being so scared!” She encourages me. 

“I’ll try, Esme. Thank you.” I look at her loving eyes before giving her another tight hug. 

“Now, let’s go have some fun before tomorrow. I think I smell a bear.” She wiggles her eyebrows. 

“Emmett would be so proud.” I giggle.

We take off into the night, running around and killing time. Filling my hunger in hopes that I feel no temptation at tomorrow’s big event. 

THE WEDDING 

As I walked into the room where Bella was getting ready with Alice and Rosalie, I felt butterflies in my stomach. I feared to see Alice, being so hypersensitive in this moment. 

I look over at Bella first, as she was the bride, but if I were to be honest all I could think about was Alice. Bella looked absolutely stunning, but it was time for Alice and I to do her makeup. 

“What did I say about beauty sleep?” Alice scolds Bella, referencing the undereye bags on the tired girl’s face, earning a chuckle from everyone. 

“You look beautiful Bella, don’t listen to that.” I tell her. 

Alice looks up at me, smiling a little more than usual. She probably was just extra excited for the wedding we had spent an unspeakable amount of hours planning. Her beauty only accentuated in her purple dress and makeup-- I didn’t think it was possible for someone to look this good.

“Thank you, (Y/N).” Bella smiles at me. 

We begin to do her makeup, Rosalie does her hair, and then help her with her dress. Eventually her parents come knocking to see their daughter in her wedding dress, before the big day officially begins. 

We excuse ourselves and leave them to it, heading outside to greet everyone. 

I talk to the Denali cousins, make my rounds, and even say hi to Seth and Billy. Despite some of the tensions the two families have had, I personally love the pack; they were amazing. I spent a lot of time with Emmett and Rosalie too, given that Alice was running around making sure everything went according to plan. 

“So, how long are you going to torture yourself for?” Rosalie asks me with a slight grimace. 

“What? What do you mean?” I ask confused. 

“Well, I mean you pining over Alice is fun and all, but how long can you torture yourself for?” Emmett chimes in, laughing. 

“Wait, what?” I pretend to not know what they’re referring to; secretly worrying about them knowing. 

“Well, you spend every moment together. You seem like a lost puppy when she’s not around. Everything about you gives off a lovesick puppy.” Rosalie giggles.

“Is it that bad?” I ask, wincing at the thought of it being as obvious as they’re making it seem.

“Oh, it’s worse.” Emmett laughs. 

“No, but really. I think it’s time you finally said something. I can’t stand looking at this anymore.” Rosalie shoves her glass of champagne near mine, encouraging me to do something. 

“Do you think I really should?” I ask nervously. 

“Please. If you don’t, I will; and believe me you don’t want that.” Emmett teased. 

He was right, I don’t want that. I can’t even imagine that nightmare. I would have to do something myself. 

Soon after, it was finally time for the ceremony. It was absolutely beautiful to stand beside my family, watching my brother and his new bride tie the knot. If I could cry, I would. 

It was time for dancing and everyone had a group or partner. I sat at the table, realizing how lonely it made me feel. Up until I saw Alice’s hand reaching for mine to grab a hold of. 

“Wanna dance?” She asked me, smiling as beautiful as always. 

“Of course.” I grab her hand and she pulls me onto the dance floor. 

We start dancing to the music, it felt so right to be so close to her. 

“Alice, I have to be honest.” I tell her, I’m sure if I could feel nauseous, my whole world would be spinning. 

“Please do.” She smiles. 

“I love you. I love you, like a lot.” I manage to spit out. 

What happened next almost knocked me on my ass. She grabbed both sides of my face and kissed me. Suddenly, we weren’t dancing anymore, it was like nobody else existed in this moment. 

“I love you, too. I was waiting for you to finally say something about it, (Y/N).” She giggles.

“What? You knew?” I ask shocked, but still smiling ear to ear at her words. 

“(Y/N), you remember I see the future right?” She laughs. 

“Yeah, I just figured you didn’t know because you never said anything!” 

“Well, I wanted you to decide your future, (Y/N). I didn’t want to tell you your future, I needed to know you wanted it for you.” She smiles wide, looking deep into my eyes. 

“Alice, I wish I knew earlier. I love you so much.” I say before I pull her into another kiss. 

“We have a lot of time to make up for.” She teases. 

I look over and see Esme smiling at me like the happy mother she is. I smile right back, to which she gives me a nice thumbs up in return. 

I could get used to kissing Alice, thank goodness I have eternity to do it. 

*************************

Word Count: 1817 

Sorry for the long wait anon, I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for the request!!

[lifeofresulullah]

The Life of The Prophet Muhammad(pbuh): The Assignment of the Duty of the Prophethood and First Muslims

The Second Phase of the Call: Addressing Makkans on Safa Hill

The circle of conveyance was expanding gradually. Happiness caressed the souls that had testified to Islam while the hearts that had not saved themselves from polytheism were in a state of panic.

“Therefore expound openly what thou art commanded.” When the Divine mandate came, naturally, the Master of the Universe (PBUH) could not stay still. He wanted to show his countrymen the path to spiritual and worldly happiness as soon as possible.

During this time, he slightly expanded his circle and notified the Meccans of his prophethood and the religion of Islam on Mount Safa. 

Allah’s Apostle (PBUH) went on top of a high rock on Mount Safa and called out to the Meccans in a loud and resonant voice: O Sahaba! (O Community of Quraysh, come here and convene, I have important news for you!)

The Meccans were puzzled. Who was shouting? Were they in the face of danger? Had an enemy invaded their land or was an important message to be forwarded to them? They did not delay in responding to this call and gathered on Mount Safa at once. What had happened? The person making this call was Muhammad-ul Amin (Muhammad the Trustworthy.) What did he want? What news did he bring? What was he going to say?

With great curiosity they asked, “O Muhammad, why did you gather us here? What are you going to announce?”

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) did not lag in his response. At a moment when all minds fully gravitated towards him, when all eyes filled with looks of curiosity were directly focused on him, when all ears paid full attention, and at a moment when everyone was anxiously waiting, he delivered this eloquent response that was filled with several logical proofs:

O Community of Quraysh! Our similarity is like a man who sees the enemy and runs to his family and shouts “O friends!” since he is afraid that the enemy will harm and reach his family before he does.

O Community of Quraysh! If I were to tell you there were enemy horsemen on the other side of this mountain and that they were about to attack you in the morning or towards the evening, would you believe me?”

They had never heard Muhammadul-Amin (Muhammad the Trustworthy PBUH) tell a lie nor say something that had surpassed the truth. In unison they all replied, “Yes, we affirm your honesty because we have not seen anything but propriety from you. You are not a person who makes false allegations.”

After addressing the public, the Holy Prophet (PBUH) called each of the Qurayshi tribes by their own names and continued speaking:

“In that case, I inform you of a great punishment that is ahead. Allah the Exalted has commanded me to warn my closest kin of the punishment in the hereafter. I invite you to say, “Allah is One, there is no God.” I am His servant and Messenger. If you accept what I have said, then I guarantee that you will enter heaven. Also know that I cannot be of service to you in this world nor in the hereafter unless you say, “Allah is One, there is no other God but He.” 

Abu Lahab Again...

Abu Lahab was baffled in the face of these words that addressed the mind, heart, and soul. He took a rock in his hands and threw it straight towards the Master of the Universe (PBUH) and shouted, “'May you perish for this! Is this what you have summoned us here for?”

Nobody else said anything in dissidence among those who were listening. They only dispersed into whispers of conversation among themselves.

Abu Lahab, the Person who Deserves Hell...

With his actions, Abu Lahab now deserved Divine punishment and enmity.

He would pay dearly for his violent hostility, lasting grudge, and hate that he had towards Allah’s Apostle (PBUH). Allah heralded his frightening aftermath in Surah al-Lahab:

“Perish the two hands of Abu Lahab and perish he! His wealth and what he has earned shall avail him naught, Soon shall he burn in a flaming fire; And his wife, too, bearer of slander. Round her neck shall be a halter of twisted palm-fiber…”

Regardless of whoever spoke out in dissidence, Allah would continue to complete our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) light. For that reason, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) was neither afraid of nor shaken by the ugly allegations made against him and was able to continue on his path in an immensely dignified and serious manner.

MALTREATMENT AND INSULT INFLICTED UPON THE PROPHET

After our Holy Prophet (PBUH) declared his prophethood and invited the community to Islam on Mount Safa, the polytheists of the Quraysh tortured him and targeted insults at him, and their abuse continued to increase.

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) invited them to the doctrine of “Tawhid” (oneness) whereas they insisted upon idolatry and polytheism, which they called “the religion of their fathers.”

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) invited them to the path of virtue and happiness both in this world and the hereafter whereas they tried to keep away from virtue and happiness just as a bat tries to flee from the light.

The Master of the Universe (PBUH) invited them to live humanely and to exhibit dignified behavior while they gallivanted by exhibiting ugly and dishonorable behavior and trampled over human dignity and honor with their feet.

He wanted them to enter Paradise and invited them to commit deeds that would earn them these incomparable blessings whereas they continued to commit deeds that would lead them to eternal punishment and hellfire.

Through his invitation, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) wanted to save them from falling into asfal as-safilin (the lowest of the low) and elevate them to a’la illiyyin (the highest of the high places), ranks of worth, and stations that would empower them to execute sublime duties. Nonetheless, they continued preoccupying themselves with worthless activities that would result in their entrance to the bottom pits of hell (asfal as-safilin.)

Of course, the polytheists who exhibited such desires and behavior would oppose our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) invitation, would struggle against him without mercy, would try to make him ineffective through all their means and break his perseverance, fortitude, courage, and zeal. For that reason, they attempted to commit all kinds of torment, persecution, insults, and murder attempts.

Undoubtedly, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) was not the only one who faced such circumstances. Every prophet who has been sent was treated harshly, held in contempt, and subjected to torture and persecution by his tribe and community. Alongside these commonalities and other traits that all of the prophets shared, these prophets did not refrain from explaining their cause and did not make any concessions from their faith despite the torture, insults, persecution, and murder attempts they faced. As the amount of torture and persecution that they were afflicted with increased, their love, enthusiasm, and seriousness in their mission in working towards having the truth heard grew even more.

Abu Lahab is Leading

Abu Lahab and his wife, Umm Jamil, were among the leaders of those that tortured and persecuted the Master of the Universe (PBUH).

Aba Lahab would continuously stalk our Beloved Prophet (PBUH), would strive to get the crowd to stop listening to him, and would attempt to instill doubts and apprehensions in their minds.

That day, Allah’s Apostle (PBUH) was inviting the crowd to testify to the Oneness of Allah and his own prophethood at the Ukaz Fair: “O people! Say La Ilaha Illallah so that you can save yourselves,” our Holy Prophet (PBUH) said to the crowd.

Abu Lahab came from right behind and shouted, “O people! He is my nephew; he is lying to you, stay away from him.” 

This was an example that is and was filled with many lessons:

His nephew was inviting the crowd to the path of happiness and to have faith in Allah whereas he, the paternal uncle, was opposing his own nephew by yelling at the crowd to not listen!

Abu Lahab did not stop there.

One day, he threw rancid filth at the front of the door of our Holy Prophet (PBUH), who was his neighbor.  At that moment, despite not yet having become a Muslim, Hazrat Hamza caught up and spilled the filth and the rancid substances upon Abu Lahab’s head.

All that our Holy Prophet (PBUH) said in the face of his neighbor’s ugly action was, “O Sons of Abd Manaf! What kind of neighborliness is this?” as he swept away the filth in front of his home.

This man, who the Quran mentions will burn in the fierce fires of Hell, would sometimes stone our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) home just to bother him.

Abu Lahab Sends his son so that he will torture the Prophet!

Abu Lahab did not want to be alone in torturing and persecuting the Master of the Universe (PBUH).

One day, he commanded his son, Utaiba, to harass our Holy Prophet (PBUH). Utaiba went to our Holy Prophet (PBUH), who was reciting Surah an-Najm during that time. Upon hearing this, Utaiba remarked, “I swear by the Lord of an-najm (the star) that I denounce your prophethood” and arrogantly spat toward the Master of the Universe (PBUH).

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) only replied to him with this invocation:

"O my Lord! Subject him to the power of a dog from among Your dogs."

His (PBUH) prayers were never left unrequited; thus, his imprecation was answered sometime after the above incident. While Utaiba was sleeping among his friends in Hawran, a place that was in the vicinity of Yemen, a lion came and tore him to shreds!

The acceptability of his prayers is just one aspect of our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) many miracles.

Wood Carrier of Hell

Umm Jamil was the wife of Abu Lahab, the most violent opponent and enemy of the Islamic cause. This woman, referred to as the “wood carrier” in the interpretation of the Holy Quran, had become so mad and so wild in the face of the Islamic cause that she would sprinkle hard, spiked shrubs every day on the path that our Holy Prophet (PBUH) walked without showing the slightest sign of boredom; in fact, she derived great pleasure from this action.

An incident related to Umm Jamil is as follows:

While our Holy Prophet (PBUH) was on Mount Safa and openly delivering the Divine invitation to the Quraysh for the first time, she and her husband, Abu Lahab scolded him and even affronted him. Abu Lahab shamelessly said, “'May you perish for this! Is this what you have summoned us here for?” and hurled a rock that he had lifted from the ground towards our Holy Prophet (PBUH). Upon this incident, Allah revealed Surah Tabbat, which mentions the ugly behavior and aftermath of Abu Lahab and his wife.

Umm Jamil could not contain herself once she heard this surah. She carried a rock and went to the Masjid al-Haram. Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) was sitting there with his loyal friend, Hazrat Abu Bakr. Umm Jamil saw Hazrat Abu Bakr but did not notice our Holy Prophet (PBUH), who was sitting there right next to him. She said to Hazrat Abu Bakr: O, Abu Bakr! Where is your friend? I heard that he has satirized me. I am going to smash his mouth with this rock when I see him.”

Since Umm Jamil’s eyes could only see Hazrat Abu Bakr and failed to notice our Holy Prophet (PBUH), she had no choice but turn back since she could not achieve her goal. 

Of course her eyes could not see!! How could a “wood carrier” of Hell dare to see our Holy Prophet (PBUH), who was under Allah’s protection and grace?

[thedannyphantomcookbook]

The Phantom Origins

Okay, so I know probably a bunch of people have already done this, but I wanted to rewrite Danny Phantom, from just before he got his powers to maybe when he tells his parents.

 I’m tired of waiting for a reboot that may never come, so here is what I picture the reboot would look like. 

I’ve always thought it would be darker and more horrific, that the ghosts he fights are more monstrous and demonic.

 That there would be a little bit more of a medical concern for Danny’s humanity being affected by his ghost half. Is he becoming more ghost like? Is he gradually getting sicker and sicker, and his ghost DNA ravages through his body like cancer? 

Would Vlad be not only a sexist, creepy, abusive old man, but contains a thirst for deception and power that he poses a real, apocalyptic threat on Earth and the ghost zone?

Are ghosts actually the spirits of the dead? Or are they a different breed of human that lives in a completely separate dimension, that’s is layered and hidden within ours?

What about Danny’s mental health. He has to keep this big secret from his parents because he absolutely FEARS what would happen if they found it to the point he’s scared they wouldn’t believe he was their son and try to kill him as a result, or keep him hostage in the basement, slowly torturing him and dissecting him until he’s dead? What would the world think of him? A prophet? A demon? Would they accuse his parents for experimenting on their own children? He would have so much fear and anxiety that he’d have to be on edge all the time, falling into depression, panic attacks - not to mention the PTSD he’d get from it all while battle nightmarish monsters and the hanging question over his head of what he is now. 

These are just SOME of the questions I’ve had that Butch Hartman will never answer. He set up such a great plot and characters but carried it out pretty poorly over the show (which may or may not be his fault since they wanted to keep it kid friendly.)

I hope to get into the deep and dark and nitty gritty details of Danny Phantom we’ve imagined but never get to see. I wrote the first chapter below, and I plan to write much more. :)

I hope you guys enjoy it!

Follow me over at Ao3 

Summary:

Dr. Madelyn Fenton and her husband, Dr. Jackson Fenton, have just built the world's first portal to the Ghost Zone - an alternate dimension where undead linger for all eternity. The only problem is no one believes in what they are doing. The townspeople call them the Fenton Freaks and the rejection letters from the National Science Foundation are piling up. Not even their own children can tolerate their ghost obsession. Their 14 year old son, Danny, does what he can to separate himself from his parents. Mocked by his peers and judged by his teachers, he keeps his head down and stays out of the spotlight. 

It comes as no surprise to Danny when his parents' machine fails to work on the first test run. Discouraged, they leave empty handed for the weekend to go to the Ghost Hunter's Expo, where they were expected to present their portal during their panel. As soon as his parents leave, Danny invites his friends over to give a tour of yet another one of his parents' failed experiments. When he gets dared to walk inside the machine, he triggers something that turns it back on, and for the first time ever, his parents have an invention that works. But that's the least of the surprises when Danny emerges from the portal himself...

To Whom It May Concern,

To the esteemed members of the National Science Foundation, myself, Dr. Madelyn Fenton, PhD., and my husband, Dr. Jackson Fenton, PhD., write to you today to consider us for the New Exploratory Scientific Research Grant Award. Our combined decades worth of research within paranormal scientific research fields have led us to believe that the “ghost” entities that haunt our very Earth, could in fact be the missing link to creating new technology, curing human illnesses, and prolonging human life on Earth.

The term “ghosts” is defined as a religious or spiritual being, or the hypothetical soul of the human body, separated from physical forms, usually that of a person recently deceased. Dr. Jackson Fenton and myself have a different theory about the “ghostly” entities that visit our Earth. We have sufficient evidence to prove that ghosts are in fact not the spirits of the dead, but an entirely new species of the human race. We believe they exist in an alternate dimension - a separate plane of existence that is not unlike ours. Recent developments have also shown the possibility of dimensional travel -  we believe ghosts are able to pass through into our plane of existence for a temporary amount of time. Through our rigorous research, construction, and experimentation, Dr. Jackson Fenton and myself have created what would be a “portal” to this plane of existence, to the “Ghost Zone.” By exploring and studying the ghost zone, we could collect a limitless amount of research and data that could be used to benefit humanity for the rest of our existence.  

We have provided within our application our twenty years of research and development, along with video recordings of our experiments as evidence of our work in progress, as we humbly request your consideration for the New Exploratory Scientific Research Grant  Award.

Sincerely,

Dr. Madelyn Fenton, PhD. in Quantum Physics and Paranormal Studies

Dr. Jackson Fenton, PhD. in Theoretical Science and Paranormal Studies

From the Grants and Admissions Office of the National Science Foundation

To Dr. Madelyn Fenton and Dr. Jackson Fenton,

Thank you for your interest in applying for the New Exploratory Scientific Research Grant Award. The New Exploratory Scientific Research Grant Award (NESRGA) is an esteemed scholarship opportunity that looks to provide funding for ground-breaking scientific research to scientists working within small and local laboratories. After carefully reviewing your application and research, we have come to the regretful decision to decline your request to receive the NESRGA.

We unfortunately could not approve your request due to the following issues:

Insufficient or lack thereof evidence or proof of scientific research of ghostly entities and/or undiscovered species, the “Ghost Zone” dimension in which these entities exist, or possible travel to said “Ghost Zone.”

Insufficient of lack thereof peer review research and laboratory data.

Paranormal entities and alternative dimensional research is not recognized under the National Science Foundation as factual scientific work.

We are thrilled to hear that you share such enthusiasm, passion, and ambition in the pursuit of scientific exploration, research and development. You are a part of a wonderful community, and through your tireless efforts, you will help bring our Earth into the future.

We welcome you to apply for the NESRGA again next year.

Sincerely,

Barbara Keaton,

Director of Grants and Admissions

National Science Foundation

GHOST HUNTERS EXPO - THIS LABOR DAY WEEKEND

To Drs. Maddie and Jack Fenton,

We are excited to have you return to speak at the Ghost Hunters Expo this coming labor day weekend. We have reviewed your Ghost Zone Theory and we anticipate your presentation of your research.

Please note: due to new regulations we cannot allow the following into the convention center:

Ecto-infused food, inanimate objects, or animal mutations of any kind.

Alarm or defense systems that release a form of knock out gas, ectoplasmic goo, ectoplasmic foam, spoiled meats, or  live rodents. All alarms and defense systems must be turned off while inside the convention center.

Samplings or gifts of homemade cookies or other food, beverages, or gifts to bribe the judges.

Disclosed weapons that are not a part of your presentation and/or not approved by the convention prior (we will have metal detections at all entry points of the convention hall)

Asking for audience volunteers unless approved by us prior your scheduled presentation time.

Ghost claims targeted towards convention guests, judges, or other presenters.

All presentations and inventions must have been tested and approved by a judge prior to your presentation time (i.e. no last minute or surprise inventions).

Fighting or displays of physical aggression.

Destruction of convention hall equipment, the building’s foundation itself, or other presenters equipment and or inventions.

We thank you in advance for your compliance and full understanding of the new regulations.

We look forward to seeing you!

Best,

Trevor Martin

Ghost Hunters Expo Coordinator

“Did you see this?” Jack Fenton asked, waving the notice from the Ghost Hunters Expo. He scoffed. “New regulations...I wonder who were the bimbos that made them enforce these rules.” He crumbled up the notice and threw it carelessly on the floor.

“How’s that portal coming, sweet cheeks?” he asked his wife.

Maddie Fenton was deep within a hexagon shaped chamber carved out of her laboratory converted basement wall. The interior was lined with a colorful array of wires and tiny blinking lights. At the end of the chamber, sheets of metal and hardware fanned in on itself. Maddie was kneeled on the floor, wrestling with a few cords.

“I’m just struggling to connect these last couple of wires,” she answered, pinching the two cords together. With a last bit of strain, the cords connected with a satisfying click.

Wiping the sweat off her brow, she came out of the chamber. “Hopefully that will stabilize the gravitational pull of the Ghost Zone once we get the portal running.” She briefly thought back to a dark memory from their college days when their first Ghost Zone prototype had malfunctioned and the toxins from the Ghost Zone leaked out of the portal, resulting in displacing one of her lab partners for the remainder of their college career.

“We got it this time, baby,” Jack said confidently. “There is no way we could make the same mistake twice.”

Maddie sighed as she walked over to the control panel to record the ecto-readings. “I just wish we knew for certain what had gone wrong that day. All of this guess work is driving me crazy.” She picked up her notebook and briefly reviewed her meticulously hand written notes before adjusting some dials.

“Okay,” she huffed, satisfied. “I think we’re ready for a test run.”

Jack clapped his hands. “Excellent! I’ll go grab the kids!” He ran to the basement steps and shouted, “Jazzy-pants! Danny! Get down here!”

A few minutes later both of their teenage children shuffled down the basement steps.

“Is this gonna take long?” Danny asked, disinterestedly. “Tucker and I were in the middle of planning our next battlefield strategies for Doomed. There’s only a few days left of summer vacation and we still have so much planning to do if we want to beat the other online players and achieve the seven Keys of Destiny.”

“And I was in the middle of an important breakthrough in my self therapeutic psychology research,” their daughter, Jazz promptly stated. In her hands she clutched an open copy anxiety and phobias workbook. “Did you know that high functioning anxiety in adulthood is caused by childhood trauma from never feeling safe in your own home? This would explain so much about me and Danny -” she paused in her speech when she saw the machine her parents were working on.

“Oh, no.” She snapped her book shut and pinched the flesh between her eyes. “ Please do not tell me you called us down here to witness another one of your experiments. Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

“Oh, Jazz, relax,” Maddie said, waving her off. “Those burn marks from the last ectoplasmic gun experiment healed eventually. And look!” She walked over to a closet in the back of the room and pulled out two polyester jumpsuits. “We made you both your own custom fitted, lab safe, jumpsuits!”

Jack appeared beside Maddie. “And we matched them with ours! Jazzy-pants, yours is teal to match your mother’s. And Danny, yours would have matched mine but the store didn’t have orange.” he held out a plain white jumpsuit with black gloves and boots.

“And I haven’t even shown you two the best parts!” he grabbed the jumpsuits from Maddie and spun them around. Crudely pressed onto the fabric of the jumpsuit was a cutout of Jack Fenton’s smiling face, emblazoned on the chest.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Jack grinned.

Jazz was the first to respond. “Dad there is no way you’re going to get me to wear that,” she said while backing away and shaking her head. “How about Danny and I will just go upstairs and you can call us down after  you’ve tested it? That way we’ll be safe and not have to wear those hideous jumpsuits.”

Danny silently agreed with her while struggling to conceal his own disgust at the suits. It was one thing to be forced to wear a jumpsuit like his parents but it was an entirely different level of lame to have to wear his father’s face across his chest. What if his parents insisted he wore it all the time, like they did? Involuntary images of him becoming the laughing stock at his new high school was surfacing in his mind, more than he already was for being the son of the city’s eccentric ghost hunting husband and wife team. He was already struggling to stay above the pathetic nerd social ring in his class. They’d have to create an entirely new category of nerd just for him if he wore that suit. The thought of it made him want to crawl away in a hole and be left there to die.

“Mom, Dad, I have to agree with Jazz,” Danny said. “The suits are kinda...lame.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Maddie dismissed. “These jumpsuits are the latest fashion that every ghost hunter wants.”

“And when we reveal these babies with my face on them, everyone will be scrambling for one. We’ll be rich!” Jack stated proudly.

Jazz snorted. “Um, I somehow doubt that. Look, we’ll just go back upstairs and you two can let us know when it’s safe, okay?” She looped a hand around Danny’s arm and started pulling him away.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Jack clamped a hand on both of them  and spun them back around. “You two are being given the chance to witness scientific history! And we are not going to let you pass up on this.” He tossed the jumpsuits to Jazz and Danny. They unwillingly caught them.

Jazz glowered at Danny. “If you take any photos and post them on the internet, I will kill you.”

Danny held out his suit reproachfully. His dad’s smiling face seemed to be laughing at him, like all of the students as Casper High will be if they ever found out about this.

“Don’t worry about it.”

A few minutes later, Jazz and Danny stood alongside their parents in their matching jumpsuits. Jazz stood with her arms crossed, silently fuming, her foot tapping impatiently. At her mother’s insistence, Jazz was forced to tuck in her long, red hair and wear the hair sealing head cover and thick, dark eye protection goggles that came with it. At equal height, Jazz and Maddie were identical in their suits.

At least Danny couldn’t match his dad. Jack’s suit was bright orange and about twenty sizes larger than Danny’s, due to his father’s obsession with Maddie’s homemade fudge and cookie inventions. Danny’s own white suit was slightly too large for him, and hung in odd places due to his skinny frame. He didn’t have to wear a hood and goggles like his sister either - another thankful shortage from the ghost hunter’s clothing warehouse. He picked at his dad’s pressed on face design on his chest as he waited for his parents to get the machine ready for its test run. His dad had tried ironing it on, but had done it poorly, so that with a bit of a tug, it was already beginning to peel off.

Jack and Maddie Fenton ran back and forth across the lab, double checking last minute calculations. Machines whirred and beeped around them, the hum of electricity warm in the stagnant air.

Danny had a good idea of how this was going to go. If this would be like any of their past experiments, it would fail miserably. The experiment would go haywire, probably spout ectoplasmic goo everywhere or accidentally giving ecto energy to the nearest food item. One year, their parents had tried making the Christmas Turkey in their newly invented Ultra-fast Instant Pot and instead infused it with demonic ghostly energy and reanimated it. Danny remembered hiding underneath the kitchen table as Jazz had to beat it back with a pastry roller, screaming for their parents.

The ghost zone portal was their most ambitious project yet. For most of Danny’s life, they had dinner table discussions, weighing mathematical equations and scientific chemical balances in hopes of being able to one day engineer the world’s first ghost zone portal. He was fairly surprised when he found out at the beginning of the summer that they were finally constructing it, and even more so when they claimed last night it was completed. They had been rushing to get it done in time to present it at the Ghost Hunters Expo this weekend.

He glanced at the table beside him looking at the pile of papers his dad had haphazardly stacked among the beakers and ghost weapons. Sitting on top of the stack was the rejection letter from the National Science Foundation.

“It means that they don’t think what they’re doing is science,” Jazz had interpreted for Danny after reading it when their parents’ back was turned. “And who could blame them? There is zero evidence supporting the existence of ghosts. It’s just superstition.”

That’s all it was. Superstition. And  yet, his parents had at some point in their youth latched on to the idea that ghosts were more than a myth, and even though they’ve never actually seen one in person themselves, they were determined to prove ghosts were real. What amazed Danny the most is the amount of people who also believed in the same theory. In the years past when his parents had dragged him and Jazz to the Ghost Hunter’s Expo, the crowds always seemed to grow bigger and bigger. Scientists, hunters, enthusiasts, and even ghost cosplayers gathered under the same roof for a full weekend, exchanging theories, stories and footage of what they thought were ghosts. The most ridiculous rumor he had heard at the last ghost hunter’s convention was one of a young, blue haired female musician, who became an overnight sensation after one performance at a local carnival. She had also disappeared quite suddenly after the performance, which raised a lot of speculation. Ghost hunters claimed her unusually pale skin and hypnotic vocals were a part of her ghostly powers. Jazz had stated that it was simply because she was a successful female in the patriarchy they had to deem her as a ghost to explain it.

Danny didn’t want to say anything else after that.

“Jack,” Maddie called from across the room, typing away at a computer. “Did you remember to pour in the ecto-purifier?”

“On it, baby!” Jack cried while fumbling with a control panel. Danny watched as grabbed a can of diet cola, which sat next to the similar sized gray cylinder labeled “EP.”

“Uh, Dad?” Danny called. “I don’t think that’s the ecto-purifier.”

“What’s that?” Jack asked. He turned to look at the object in his hand and barked out a chuckle.

“Thanks, son! That was a close one.” He placed the can of diet cola down and picked up the correct cylinder. “Who knows what would have happened if we purified the toxic ghost energies with diet cola. Could you imagine?” He poured the bright green liquid into the appropriate chamber.

In the corner of his eye, Danny saw Jazz shake her head. “Idiot,” she whispered.

Jazz believed she was the only mature Fenton in the family. At some point during her high school career, she had decided it was up to her to convince her parents that ghosts were not real, and to force them to change their careers to something more normal or socially acceptable. She had tried to get them interested in just about any other scientific field she could think of, such as deep sea diving to discover creatures living on the ocean floor, to NASA’s space engineering program. When those didn’t work, she tried to build a case proving the psychological damage they were causing to her’s and Danny’s upbringing. Over the summer, when she wasn’t preparing herself for the SATs she’d have to take later that school year, she poured over every psychological book she could get her hands on from the library. No matter how many times she argued about the permanent damage her parents were inflicting on their amygdala by creating an unsafe environment for her and Danny to grow up in, their parents would say it’s all worth it for the sake of scientific advancement.

Danny tried desperately to stay out of their fights. Most days, he was too focused on trying to survive a day without being called “that ghost geek” by his peers, no matter how many times he told his classmates he didn’t believe in his parents’ work. Maybe it was because of his small, bony limbs that made it so easy for his classmates to mock him. Or the fact that his only two friends in the entire world were also considered a variety of nerd within the social climate. His best friend Tucker was a little too obsessed with the latest technology and his other friend, Samanatha - Sam for short - was the only school’s goth girl, who filled her entire personality and outlook with dark and depressing outfits and literature. In a weird way, it did make sense that the girl who loved to read about the dead, and the boy who loved technology, would want to be friends with the kid whose parents called themselves ghost scientists. Still, they were his best friends and he wouldn’t trade them for anyone else.

He had been telling them about the portal his parents were building all summer. Just like he was, his friends were also doubtful it would work. They deliberated about what the inventions would actually do. Tucker still brought up the time Danny’s parents were testing out an anti-ghost gravity spray, to temporarily make a ghost lose their flight ability. The morning they were testing it out, Danny had woken up in a hovering bed. It had shocked him so much, he fell off his bed and face-planted onto his bedroom floor, breaking his nose. At some point, Tucker and Sam started placing bets about the outcome.

“Maybe the portal will just blast a hole through the wall and you’ll send up in the Amity Park Sewer System,” Sam guessed last night after he told them his parents were getting ready for their first test.

“Bet you five bucks that Danny will lose all of his hair this time,” Tucker had joked.

He absentmindedly ran a hand through his exposed hair and briefly wished he had a head cover and goggles like Jazz. He couldn’t help but notice there was something different about his parents this time. They didn’t have the same, bubbly and excited energy they usually had when showing off a new invention. They seemed more focused this time. Even his dad’s goofy banter towards Maddie had taken a back seat as his dad frowned over the controls. It was weird to see his dad actually concentrating. Maybe it was the hundredth rejection letter they received from the National Science Foundation, or the pressure to present this weekend at the Expo, but it seemed like they were seriously trying to make this thing work. They did not want to fail.

“Okay everyone!” Maddie ran over and started waving her hands. “Backs up against the wall.”

Jazz sighed and turned to walk over to stand behind the boxed in yellow line, the “safe” spot in the lab. Danny thought  a metal containment center with a viewing screen would have kept them safer, but supposedly his parents didn’t have time to build one. Danny followed his mother and sister.

“Almost…” Jack muttered at the controls, typing away. Suddenly there was a loud click that echoed off the basement walls. Machines roared to life and lights winked on. Inside the portal, the metal fans began to spin.

“YES!” Jack punched the air, triumphant.

“Jack!” Maddie called to her husband, gesturing towards the safe zone. He jogged over and squeezed himself in between his two kids.

“This is it!” he shouted over the noise, which was gradually becoming deafening.

All around the room, machines and computers turned on. Attached beakers and graduated cylinders filled up with green, bubbling liquid. A wall lined with dialers bounced up and down. Puffs of smoke expelled out of exhaust pipes. The portal itself began to crackle with electricity, its interior fans spinning faster and faster until it started emitting a bright green glow. The pressure in the room changed, popping Danny’s ears. He felt the tips of his hair begin to rise with the electric waves.

The whirring of the fans inside the machine began to ring out a high pitch squeal as the machine glowed brighter, and brighter, blinding Danny’s naked eyes. He squinted and held out a hand over his eyes, peeking through his fingers. The air around them grew warm and staticky. His father clamped a hand tightly on Danny’s shoulder, as if to hold him back from running away.

It was working. Danny couldn’t believe it. Not once in all of their years of inventing ghost machines and hunting equipment, they may have actually been able to build something that worked like they wanted it to.

What would this mean? That ghosts actually existed? That his parents were not the crackpot fools the town took them for? And if they did exist, there was the one question that no one has been able to answer.

Were ghosts dangerous?

He looked up at Jazz. Her expression was unreadable through the head covering. He looked at his parents, wild and furious excitement in their eyes.

Then, when it seemed like Danny’s ears couldn’t take much more of the screeching noise, a BOOM exploded from the portal. Light poured out of the machine and flooded the room. Danny yelped and turned away. Jack stepped in front of his family and hid them with his massive torso from the explosion. Then, very suddenly, the room went dark. Every light and machine that had been just buzzing with life, died. Danny’s hearing rang in the abrupt silence.

“What the heck?” Jack was the first to say something.

“I got a flashlight, hang on,” Maddie said next. Danny heard her fumbling around her utility belt and a small light winked on. She shined it around the room. Curls of smoke rose up from the machines. The glow from the ecto-purifier had also faded.

“I don’t understand,” Maddie said, dumbfounded as she gazed around the room. “This should have worked.”

“We checked every calculation,” Jack said, equally mystified.

“And tested every single machine.” She threw up her hands. “I even made sure the damn computers turned on!”

“Well, obviously, this wasn’t going to work,” Jazz suddenly said, her anger returning. “You guys were trying to open a portal to nothing . Because ghosts don’t EXIST.”

She ripped off the hood and goggles. “I’m going back upstairs to change and burn this stupid jumpsuit, and work on processing this trauma that you have inflicted on us, yet again.” Without waiting for her parents to respond, she stomped back upstairs, her footsteps echoing off the silent basement walls

Jack shook his head. “What is her deal?”

“Oh, never mind her, Jack,” Maddie said. “We need to figure out what went wrong. We only have a day until the expo and we promised to present this.”

Danny’s parents turned their back on him and began working to restore the power, jumping right into a deep discussion. Danny took the moment to quietly slip away back upstairs.

The second he was back into his room, he let out a long exhale. Suddenly remembering he was wearing the jumpsuit, he hastily ripped it off and then threw it in the trash bin in the corner of his room.

He flopped back onto his bed, and lay in the stillness of his room for a few minutes to collect his thoughts. He stared up at the plastic, glow in the dark stars and planets stuck on his ceiling.

He couldn’t believe there was a moment back there where he thought the machine was working.

He didn’t want to imagine what would happen if ghosts were real. There were no real scientific facts about them. All those convention attendees at the ghost hunters expo all had different theories about what ghosts are - the religiously damned, aliens, spirits with unfinished business, souls that died before their time, another species - no one could settle on a single argument.

But if they did exist, what would happen then? Would they swarm the Earth, like cicadas after their years long sleep? Would they haunt each and every home and building in towns and cities, and try to claim it as their own? Would the world be plunged into a ghost apocalypse, where every human had to fight for their own human survival and soul? Were ghosts malicious or peaceful?

His parents might be arrested for creating the portal in the first place, if it did turn out bad. Or the government might force them to work alongside them to rid the Earth of the ghost population. What would happen to him and Jazz? Would they be put into juvie, just for being the kids of the Fenton Freaks? Would they be put into foster care, once the government decided Jack and Maddie were unfit parents for him and Jazz?

What if the human population adopted a sick fascination of ghosts? Businesses would try to profit off the ghosts by selling fake anti-ghost protection devices or offer tours inside “haunted” houses. There might even be a community in which some would fall in love or even want to become a ghost themselves.

The world would become absolute chaos.

Danny shuddered at the thought. He didn’t understand what his parents saw in trying to prove their existence. What good would proving the undead existed bring to the world?

His anxious, spiraling thoughts were interrupted when his computer dinged. Danny got up and sat down at his desk. He wiggled his mouse to wake up his computer. Tucker had sent him a message.

Still have all of your hair?

Danny chuckled and wrote back.

Yep. Nothing happened though. But the power in the basement blew.

Damn ,  was Tucker’s response. And I had just invested in a 25 pack of markers to color your head in Lancer’s class when you fall asleep.

Danny laughed out loud. I can only imagine all the pensises you’d draw.

I had planned no less than 50. Two for each color.

Well I hope you kept your receipt cause I still have a full head of hair. Unlike you. Danny made a jab at Tucker’s own buzzed haircut. He had tried growing out dreads for the school year, but his mother forced him to shave it off after he got caught staying up on the computer way too late one night. She paid the barber to give him a military buzz cut.

Shut up, dude, Tucker typed back. While you were away not getting your hair fried off your scalp, I was devising up a new battle plan to defeat Chaos.

Danny smiled. Oh yeah? Lay it on me.

[whump-tr0pes]

Nightmares

Daniel Michaelson and Gavin Stormbeck were captured by mercenaries and tortured mercilessly, used and hurt by anyone who could pay, Gavin for months, and Danny for years. Despite being forced upon each other, they learned to find solace and companionship in each other. After Isaac Moore and his team rescued them, they were eternally grateful, but confused when Isaac didn’t take what they owed him. They tried to get Isaac drunk and give Isaac what they thought he wanted, but Isaac assured them he didn’t want them to. 

Isaac is still plagued by nightmares of being abused and abandoned by the first two families he had. 

Daniel Michaelson and the idea for this AU belong to @ashintheairlikesnow, used with permission.

Cw: abuse, blood, death, manipulation, gaslighting, gendered slur, alcoholic parent, fear of noncon

Rosa’s expression was cold. Everything about her was cold: the hard line of her mouth, the arms crossed in front of her chest, the way she turned away from Isaac as if he was disgusting to look at. Everything was cold, except for her eyes. Her eyes blazed with fury, and it made Isaac tremble.

Michael limped back into the house, blood soaking through their pant leg, and it made Isaac whimper.

Jordan was being carried between William and Lexi, and that made Isaac hate himself.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed weakly as they laid Jordan on the floor. Their skin was a blue-gray, where it wasn’t stained a sort of black-red that made Isaac’s stomach heave. The worst part, the worst part, was their eyes. They were open, blank, staring sightlessly up at Isaac. Accusing. Empty.

Dead.

Isaac fell to his knees beside Jordan, his hand reaching out to touch them.

Rosa grabbed his wrist in an iron grip and tore his hand away from Jordan. She dragged Isaac upright and pitched him onto his back. She stood over him, jabbing a finger at him.

“You don’t get to touch them,” Rosa snarled.

Isaac whined softly and pushed himself up to look at Jordan past Rosa. Rosa stepped forward and kicked him back onto his back.

“Please,” Isaac sobbed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I… I didn’t… I didn’t mean—”

“They’re dead because of you,” Rosa hissed. “You know that. We went out to fight and you were supposed to be there, to protect us, and you weren’t. You preferred to sit at home like the useless piece of shit you are.”

Isaac held out a hand in front of him, tears pouring down his face. “Rosa, no, please, I just didn’t want…” Isaac crumpled into sobs. “I didn’t mean for anyone to die, I just… I didn’t want to kill anyone, please…”

“Shut up,” Rosa growled. “This is your fucking job. We’ve spent the past… the past seven years taking care of you. Making sure you have everything you need. We made you part of our family, Isaac. And when it came time for you to repay everything we’ve done… all we asked was this one little thing…”

“You said I’d have to kill people,” Isaac whispered. “Please… William, please,” Isaac begged, straining to look past Rosa. She shoved him onto his back.

“You’re the one we’ve trained for this,” Rosa said viciously. “You’re the youngest. You move the best. You’re the one best suited to handle this, and you didn’t.” Rosa’s face was changing, morphing, flickering between her and his mother. Rosa, his mother. Rosa, his mother. Isaac blinked and scrambled back on his hands.

“But I…” He whimpered. “I’m sorry, Rosa,” he wailed. “Jordan, no… Jordan, I’m sorry… Jordan, NO…”

“You serve a purpose in this family,” Rosa snarled. “You protect us. You use your training to be useful.”

“Lexi… Michael, please…”

“And you failed. You failed us, Isaac. We made this plan assuming you’d have our back. And you failed.”

“No…”

Rosa’s lips pulled back over her teeth. “And… I have no fucking use for someone who refuses to do what they were trained to do.”

Isaac looked up at Rosa with terror in his eyes. “Rosa… please, I—”

“Get out, Isaac,” Rosa snarled at him. “Get out. If you refuse to repay the things we’ve done for you… We raised you, Isaac. We did more for you than that bitch mother ever did.”

It was his mother’s face saying it. Isaac’s brow furrowed. The smell of gin was thick in his nose.

“No,” Isaac whimpered. “Rosa, I… I’ll do it. I’ll go on the next one with you. I promise. I… Rosa, I was scared…”

“You think I wasn’t, you fucking idiot?” Rosa snapped. “We were all scared. But we went. You’re the most trained, and you weren’t there. So get your shit, Isaac.”

“No…”

“Get your shit and fucking leave. I never want to see your face again.”

“Rosa, please, no…”

Rosa crouched by his side and thrust her face close to his. “I have no fucking use for you,” she hissed. Isaac could feel her breath on his face. It smelled like gin.

Rosa never drank gin.

“Fucking useless,” Rosa said. But it wasn’t Rosa. “I have no fucking use for you, if you won’t do this one little thing.” A bottle was in Rosa’s hand. Not Rosa. His mother. Sandy blonde hair and blue eyes.

“Fucking idiot,” she screamed in his face. “Is it so fucking hard to bring me my fucking gin?” She hurled the bottle at the wall. It bounced off. Plastic.

“You couldn’t tell us we were out of fucking milk,” the woman in front of him snarled. “How fucking hard is that? And now he’s… he’s dead.” Isaac cowered back away from his mother as she descended on him, her face twisted with rage. “And if I never had you, MY HUSBAND WOULD STILL BE ALIVE!”

Isaac stopped trying to move away from his mother. He stopped trying to fight the words. He collapsed onto the floor, curling into a tight ball of misery, burying his face in his hands. The thing that wore his mother’s face and spoke in his mother’s voice screamed hate and bile at him. He sobbed as the words fell on him like stones.

Isaac twisted away from his mother, his heart pounding in his chest. She was grabbing him in the dark… but when had she done that? His mother never touched him at all after his father died. This isn’t right.

Isaac jerked awake. He felt a hand on him, on his shoulder. Shaking him slightly. He twisted in the sheets, panting, soaked with sweat, reaching for the lamp at his bedside. He shivered in the cold of his room. He choked on his panic, and his tears.

“Isaac?” a tentative voice said. A chill struck Isaac and his hand fumbled at the lamp. The light snapped on and he gasped.

Danny and Gavin both sat on his bed, staring at him with concern laced with terror. Gavin had his hand on Isaac’s shoulder. Isaac could feel him trembling.

Not again.

Isaac couldn’t take it. Not now, not with his mother’s voice mixing with Rosa’s and ringing in his ears. He shoved himself away from them both until he smacked against the headboard. He crumpled onto his side and wailed into his hands.

“Isaac…” The mattress dipped as Gavin drew himself closer. Isaac threw out his hands and shoved Gavin away.

“Please, no,” he sobbed. “Don’t… don’t do this. I c-can’t.”

“Isaac, we’re, we’re not going to…” Danny wet his lips. He and Gavin shared a look, heaviness and guilt so thick between them it weighed at the air. “We’re not g-going to, um, try that. That again.”

“Please,” Isaac whimpered.

“We’re sorry,” Gavin whispered, his voice tight with tears.

Isaac turned his face against the mattress. His sheets were damp with sweat, and now tears. “I can’t take it,” he whispered.

“Were you having a, um, a nightmare?” Danny said softly.

Isaac shivered and groaned into the mattress. “Um, yeah,” he murmured. His mouth was dry. He swallowed, and his throat felt raw.

“What…” Danny reached for Gavin’s hand and drew a deep breath before speaking again. “What, um, what i-it about?”

Isaac squeezed his eyes shut, sending another cascade of tears down his nose. “Nothing,” he muttered.

“Isaac, can we…” A hand softly caressed through Isaac’s hair. Isaac jerked away, his eyes flying open. His head banged against the headboard. Gavin pulled his hand away and bit his lip. “…can we stay with you?”

“No,” Isaac whimpered, and shook his head. “Please don’t, don’t touch me.”

“Isaac,” Danny said softly, frozen like a statue where he sat. “We won’t… try that. Again. Not unless you, um, want to. We just…” Danny whined softly, and it made Isaac’s stomach turn. Like a puppy. “We just want y-you to feel, um, safe. Not, not, not alone.”

But I am alone. Tears wet Isaac’s sheets. Emptiness yawned inside him, threatened to consume him. The dark hunger that gnawed at his soul was cold, empty, endless. I’m alone. I always will be.

“Isaac…” Gavin whispered. He chewed his lip. “We can… keep you warm. Please. Let us just, um, help you.” His fingers laced tightly through Danny’s, and Isaac ached at the trust he saw between them, the connection that held as solid as a stone. Two people who had been through the worst of pain together, had looked directly into hell and held onto each other through it. I was alone while I was hurting. They had each other.

“Isaac…” Isaac glanced up at Gavin and saw grief in his eyes. “We… um… have nightmares, too.”

Gavin’s words struck Isaac in the chest, leaving him gasping for air. They’ve been through worse than I ever faced, a hundred times over. A thousand.

Maybe it would be nice to be touched by someone who’s felt pain, too.

Isaac trembled as he slowly pushed himself upright. His eyes were raw from crying, his nose stuffy, his throat raw. He shivered and wiped his face on his sheets. “Um…”

“We won’t, won’t do anything,” Danny whispered. “P-promise.”

“Please,” Isaac croaked. “Not… not ever.”

Hurt burned in Danny’s and Gavin’s eyes, deep and ragged and shot through with fear. Coercion. I will never, never want that from you. Not when you’ve survived what you survived.

“We promise,” Gavin murmured.

Isaac bowed his head in a slow nod. “Okay,” he whispered. He pushed himself away from the headboard.

To his surprise, Danny reached out and took Isaac’s hand. Danny guided him to lay down where he had been before, in the center of the bed. Danny laid down beside him, his back to Isaac, and pulled Isaac to him until Isaac’s chest was pressed against Danny’s back. Danny pulled Isaac’s arm under his neck and wrapped it around his chest.

Gavin moved behind Isaac and cuddled against him, Gavin’s chest against Isaac’s back. Gavin reached across them both and took Danny’s hand. Danny’s other hand laced through Isaac’s, and Danny pulled them both closer until Isaac felt squeezed between them.

And yet, Isaac didn’t panic. His heart didn’t stutter into overdrive. Fear didn’t creep into his bones and make a home there. He felt… safe.

Gavin was warm against Isaac’s back. Isaac could feel Gavin’s heart beat, fast at first, then slower. Slower. Isaac drew in Gavin’s warmth and it melted into his body. Danny didn’t give off much heat at all, as if his pale skin pulled the heat from the room to feed the emptiness Isaac was sure festered in him, too. Isaac tightened his arms around Danny and squeezed his hand.

Isaac felt Gavin’s breath on the back of his neck. Gavin pressed his lips against Isaac’s shoulder and nuzzled against his neck.

“We l-love you, Isaac,” Gavin whispered.

Danny pressed his lips against Isaac’s hand. “You, um, s-saved us,” Danny said softly. “Let us, um, please, d-do this for you. We can share, share this.”

“Please let us help you,” Gavin murmured against Isaac’s neck. He trailed off into a whimper.

It somehow didn’t feel like an instigation. It felt soft, and gentle, and like someone understood. It felt like Gavin saw all the parts of Isaac that were broken, and met him in those places. He felt like warmth of the two bodies surrounding him melted those jagged fragments of his pain just a little, helped mend them together. Just the smallest bit. Just a little.

Isaac pressed his lips to Gavin’s arm, the only part of Gavin he could reach. He turned his head and kissed Danny’s shoulder, and Danny shuddered at the touch. For a moment Isaac froze, terrified he’d done something wrong, something that made Danny flicker back to that place. Or worse… something Danny wanted more of.

But Danny didn’t move like he wanted more. He didn’t push his hips back against Isaac’s, or pull some part of Isaac into his mouth. He just squeezed Isaac’s hand and pulled Gavin closer.

“We can be this for you, Isaac,” Gavin whispered.

“I don’t need you to be anyth—”

“I mean…” Gavin trailed off. Isaac held his breath. “I mean… if you want to… you can be close to us, too.”

Isaac let his breath out, and it fanned out against Danny’s neck. He was so thin, so fragile, and yet taller than Isaac was.

“Sometimes… we want to b-be a, around someone who, um, who understands,” Danny said softly.

“I don’t… I haven’t been through… um…” Isaac shifted uncomfortably.

“Doesn’t matter,” Gavin whispered. “You still know.”

I don’t think I do, Isaac thought, his chest sinking. But I understand hurting. And if this helps them, and helps me… maybe it’s alright if I accept it.

Maybe it’s alright to be around someone who understands.

[dudebroreg]

In the isolation of this quarantine, I’m gonna resurrect THIS old ass argument. “Can Spike still rightfully end up with Buffy after his actions, and if he can’t, isn’t the same true for Angel?” and “Is Spuffy as meaningful as or even compare to Bangel?”. The following “conversation” is hypothetical and “person” represents most of the arguments I’ve seen people on the other side of this make. Person: I don’t see how anyone could possibly ship Buffy and Spike after the bathroom scene. Me: He didn’t have a soul when he did that. Once he does have a soul, the evil he did is no longer his fault unless he repeats the behavior, but their slow-burned bond and her eventual love for who he becomes in Chosen is real. It’s canon that she fell in love with him when their fingers locked before his death if you take Joss’s words as truth, and even if you don’t and need something to be solidified on the program to accept it as canon, interpreting what Buffy felt in those last moments as romantic love is no more or less provable than the “she was just saying it to make Spike feel better” take. It makes complete sense that Spike thought she was lying after all of his experiences, though. That’s part of his own tragedy. That angst is part of why we love them as a pairing. Person: Wow look at you making excuses for one of the worst things someone can possibly do. There’s no going back after that. Idc what the plot did to justify his actions, and it’s despicable to think that the show would still give them anything resembling a love story after that. Boo hoo about his little tragedy. Am I supposed to feel bad after what he tried to do to her? Me: Okay fine, I see your point. I don’t see how anyone could possibly ship Buffy and Angel after he went on a killing spree meant to emotionally torture her, targeted her friends and family, KILLED JENNY and not only got off on the pain it inflicted on Buffy’s father figure but set it up to be as devastating for Giles as humanly possible, and almost brought Hell on Earth which would have killed millions in global genocide all for his twisted amusement. I don’t see how anyone could feel bad about him having a sword driven through him and pulled into Acathla after what he tried to do to Buffy, to her loved ones, and to the entire fucking world. Oh also he tried to drive a sword into her face right before her badass comeback. Person: He didn’t have a soul when he did that. It’s not Angel’s fault what Angelus does. It’s not really him, but Bangel’s epic eternal love at first sight is real and will never die. Me: .... Person: ... It’s different because Spike is a little more human even when he doesn’t have a soul. Me: Does that mean he deserves less credit or more? :/ :/ Person: ANGEL AND ANGELUS IS DIFFERENT FROM SOULLESS SPIKE AND SPIKE. Me: Nah same lore same rules breh. Soulless Spike seems more human because William was a sentimental sap and hopeless romantic when he was sired and so Spike was a deranged version of that personality, but still a demon and still wired to do evil, no matter how deeply he feels for someone. Liam was a self-indulgent douche who lived primarily for his own satisfaction when he was sired and thus became Angelus. Like in life, Angelus in death gave into all of his wicked cravings but without guilt or remorse. Who Spike and Angel are without a soul fits who they were with a soul perfectly within the rules of Buffyverse vampirism. But Soulless Spike is still Soulless Spike, he is still supernaturally coded to be a monster, and his ensouled version deserves the same level of forgiveness or lack thereof as his grandsire. If you don’t think Buffy should be with someone who’s done unspeakable things regardless of the supernatural reason for it, fine, but that’s not what you’re saying. Me: The bathroom scene was hard to watch but an important turning point because he realized that in his chipped state he can’t be his fully monstrous self nor can he be a good man. His options were to get the chip removed and be William the Bloody again, or get his soul and attempt to be a good man. The decision he made was something Angelus would never do, which I could use to say Spike is just better, but really they’re just different people with different motives. Bangel and Spuffy present the same issues with the concept of being pardoned via soul and if either vampire is really “worthy” of her romantic affections, no matter how much you try to twist Buffy/Spike as the more unshippable pairing to suit your own preference on which character Buffy should have a future with.

Person: ARE YOU SAYING SEASON 6 SPUFFY WASN’T TOXIC?! Me: Nah it definitely was, but Spuffy fandom in large part really doesn’t want Buffy to end up with season 6 Spike. Many of us think their “relationship” when he was soulless was *entertaining* and added character depth, and that they had real moments of connection in the midst of the ugliness, but most of us recognize how unhealthy it was and that it was no recipe for happily-ever-after. Irl there would be no turning back but also irl people are not literal demons who can go and win a soul to make up for some missing piece of them, just as Angel’s situation would also not happen in our reality. Me: A lot of us DO want her to end up with fully actualized soul-having Spike as he was by the end of season 7, in season 5 of Angel, and post series. Bangel is the passionate all-consuming first love story, but they NEVER achieved the level of understanding and full realization of the other that Spuffy ultimately did. Probably in part because Buffy was a fuckin’ high school teenager when Bangel happened, but that’s vampire genre for ya. Me: The speech Spike gave Buffy in Touched is something Angel could NEVER deliver at any point we’ve seen them, because Angel never knew her the way Spike did, and Buffy’s conceptualization of Angel is super idealistic and passion-charged, lacking the full range of understanding she has of Spike, probably because, again, she was a fuckin’ high school teenager when Bangel happened. Me: If she loves both of them, which I believe she does and the creator of the verse believes she does, it would take years for Buffy and Angel to discover and know each other to the depths that Buffy and Spike already do. Never mind that Buffy and Angel changed - they didn’t even know each other THAT well when they were together. The more Angel the Series dives into the whole of Angel, the more clear that becomes, and Buffy wasn’t anywhere near her full growth when he left for LA. Why go back and rebuild Buffy’s first major relationship when Spike is right there, the feelings are developed enough to where if she said “I absolutely do love you and you were wrong for doubting it” it wouldn’t seem wild whatsoever, and the natural romantic endpoint of her journey has more substance there? Because you just like Bangel more? Cool! You do you, but Buffy/Angel is still in no way the morally superior tv couple. Me: Also, not to be a dick on that whole love-at-first-sight deal, but it’s canon that Angel loved her the moment he saw her, which is weird to me since the first time he saw her was watching her creepily from a distance when she was 15 years-old in a short skirt and literally sucking on a lollipop.  Okay so I’m just being a prick with that last part because that too is a byproduct of 90s TV and vampire genre. “Bangel or Spuffy” is mostly a “which type of fictional relationship do I vibe with?” based debate. Bangel is one of those epic earth-shattering-consuming-my-whole-being-at-first-kiss romances, and the people who love that kinda thing will be inclined to support them, and I do love Angel as a whole. What I will always fight, no matter how old this subject and these shows get, is this wack idea that there are problems within Spuffy that make it more unshippable than Bangel, or even more hilariously that Buffy “deserves” better than Spike and yet “deserves” Angel. 

Though, if you tell me you think she’s too good for both of them, you have a much stronger case there, but that doesn’t make me love Spuffy any less, nor would it make someone else stop loving Bangel.

[buirbaby]

The Wardens: A New Wind Blows

Notes:  Please note that this fanfic is entirely self-indulgent and warps a bit of the plotting/history. I thought it'd be fun to do a reincarnation insert, but also add rules to it to make it more difficult for the protagonist to be successful in saving canon characters. I've also added lore about the Wardens and griffins, because why not. Might not make sense (though I am trying to be as canonical as I can), but it's fun to write!

Rating: M + Mature themes, language, and violence

Masterlist | First | Next

Cold. Everything was so blasted cold.

Shuddering, Tabitha rolled over and opened her eyes, enough light in front of her for her breath to stream through the air. It had been early summer, why was it cold as balls here? Groaning, she sat up and rubbed the back of her head. Wherever she'd been laid down, it was lumpy, hard, and uncomfortable. Her bare palm scrabbled against stone and confusion ripped through her. Fire. There had been a fire in her home and Balerion had woken her up.

"Balerion?" she called, her hoarse voice echoing through the cave. None of this made sense. One moment she had been passing out from suffocating on smoke and now she was in some icy cave? Maybe this was hell. That's what she got for her years of service, somehow avowing that killing for her country was somehow not murder. God seemed to think not and thus this was his version of purgatory or hell. Who would've thought that hell was frosty? Grumbling, she clambered to her feet and glanced around, uncertain which direction was deeper into the cave and which was out. Either way, she needed to get moving because she was going to freeze her tits off at this rate.

Trailing into the abyss, she continued along the only path set before her, curious if some demon or spectre would greet her in the afterlife. Would they tell her she was an idiot for not taking the offer of money? Or that somehow that condo company had a hand in her death?

There was a light up ahead, brightening the shadows that she was having difficulty glaring through. Did all cats go to heaven and she was damned? At least death hadn't been that painful, just like going to sleep before the tidal waves of fire consumed them. Out of all the things that Tabitha could be thinking, she thought about how crappy it was that this fire had to happen right before the trip of a lifetime she'd been waiting for. Iceland had been the most anticipated trip, even bigger than Denali. So much for celebrating her big 3-0 in the fjords and ice. Now she'd rot in the ground at eternally 29.

The mouth widened in front of her and a chill breeze swept right through her, making her shudder, as she drew her arms closer. Shafts of grey light filtered in through slats in the stone, the cavern dome-shaped and wide open. Dried grass and leaf litter was scattered against the ground, almost in the shape of nests, but they were long abandoned. In front of her, she thought she saw a fleeting bit of moment, a dark shadow slinking along the perimeter of the room, but doubted herself. It wasn't until the pool of darkness flew across, pouncing on her, that her heart leapt up into her throat and her body collided back with the hard stone flooring. Gasping, trying to flounder for air that had been driven from her lungs, she was eye to eye was a behemoth creature.

Brilliant fiery orange eyes blinked at her, set into a raptor's face, only the head of the bird was larger than her own. Obsidian feathers encircled its face, a wickedly sharp beak preening close to her face, a set of long tufted ears twitching. Undoubtedly a demon of hell, Tabitha was convinced, wondering if she'd screwed up her descent into the layers or if she should have tried running. She need only wait for it to disembowl her to begin her eternal torture in this frigid wasteland, but it was acting strangely. Tilting its head to the side before a soft murmur, almost like a huffing trill-similar to that of a cat caught between a purr and meow-blew her hair back. No, she knew those eyes. She hadn't thought of them like fire before, but more like pumpkins.

"Balerion?" she whispered, afraid that speaking any louder would enrage the creature.

The raptor pushed its face into hers, nuzzling the shiny ink black beak into her cheek, before clambering off to allow her to sit up. Tabitha was startled by what she saw, her cat's feline form condensed to only the frame of which he now possessed, his bottle brush tail sweeping behind him, a thick mane of feathers and fur clustered around his neck and throat, akin to a lion. But his front paws were talons, sharper than knives, fashioned for killing. Yet, the griffin's mannerisms bespoke of her soul mate.

"What the fuck is going on?" she managed, pushing herself to her feet to trot toward him, burying her fingers in the warmth of his feathers. Damn, it was cold here and Balerion was radiating heat. "Man, we're definitely not in Kansas anymore, are we bud? You're... huge." Trying to fathom how it was possible her house cat had turned into a griffin, Tabitha continued to puzzle as she kept close to him.

Another trill of agreement before the feline pulled away, ear tufts twitching, before he let out a low growl, beak parting in fury. Suddenly, she was thrust behind him, barely able to glance over the broad set of wings he was unfurling to challenge the person approaching them. However, the initial reaction simmered down, the heat dialed back as a voice spoke in a soothing language that she did not comprehend.

"Please. Warden. Come out," the voice was youthful, childish, but within the timbre of the tone there was a great weight, almost as if there was a deep ancient wisdom contained within. A shiver lanced down her spine as she stepped out, pressing her palm against Balerion's muzz-er-beak to quell him. Despite the young voice, the small being in front of her was not inherently child-looking aside from the short stature. Just as she'd been startled with the griffin, the nut-brown skin dappled with spots like a baby deer caught her off guard. Its ears were also reminiscent of a doe, large and prominent as their slitted eyes.

He wore a cloak of leaves, his dark hair intertwined with vines and lichen.

"What... are you?" Part of her recalled the descriptors deep down, but it seemed too farfetched just along with the rest of this queer world.

"The humans call us the Children of the Forest. We call ourselves those who sing the song of the earth in our True Tongue," he answered cryptically, confirming what her heart had suspected. The revelation stole her breath away, the shock of falling into the depths of a book she'd had on her nightstand the evening of her death bone chilling. "I am called Fang."

"How are we here? This should be impossible," Tabitha muttered, convinced this was a coma dream. Still, it felt so real. Maybe they had survived the fire and her dying brain had concocted this dream state to float in while she healed. Whatever it was, being dropped into the realm of A Song of Ice and Fire without any blood ties to nobility was real shitty.

"I didn't think that another of your kind would awaken. I've stayed here a long time, protecting the Roost . The last of its kind after men hunted the griffins to extinction," Fang explained, gesturing to the nests, in which Tabitha could see were more figures. However, upon scrutiny she realized that they were stone, trapped eternally in their slumber. "But it was told that for every griffin here, there is one Warden, another half to their soul, waiting to rejoin them in this life."

"Excuse me for not being aware of what my sacred, foretold destiny is, but can you enlighten me? What exactly is a warden?"

Fang was more than keen to oblige, the years of solitude in this cold cavern grating on him. "Wardens are keepers of knowledge. Wargs in their own right. Warriors and guides during times of extreme strife."

"Never heard of them," Tabitha remarked, racking her brain for any lore on Wardens, but had never recalled seeing them in the books. Maybe they hadn't been recorded for a reason, a loophole that could change the tide of what had been written, never quite taking on a form themselves since they weren't nobles or remarkable characters aside from trying to subvert plotlines they knew were going to happen. Griffin-wielding-wargs. That's what she was now. "Then... Are we north of the Wall?" Where else would a Child of the Forest be? Unless this was well before when the books she'd known were set, this was the last frontier the Children had left.

"Yes, we are... You are familiar with Westeros' geography?"

"I am," Tabitha admitted grudgingly. "So, Fang, what's the plan? I mount up on Balerion and we fly off to try and change the world?" That was a fanciful way to put it and putting way too much hope in the fact that they wouldn't get shot right out of the sky while flying over the Wall.

"No," Fang shook his head. "You are not ready. You are not equipped for the journey. And unless you'd like to perish before your quest has even begun, you'd be wise not to just show up at any doorstep and hope for safe harbor, especially as a woman."

So Fang wasn't stupid. Tabitha's lips quirked up. "Then what do we do?"

This question would soon be answered, as Fang led them out of the cumbersome room that had wind ripping through it with icy, gnashing teeth. The cave went deeper, illuminated by strange blue lights contained within gnarled tree branches, more for her than it was for Fang, so that she might see where she placed her foot as they descended. Still, she wondered how any of this was real. How such a thing existed. Quietly, she amassed a collection of questions to ask Fang once they arrived at their destination.

The caverns grew warmer, the heat of a primordial hearth burning deep within the heart of the mountain. It took Tabitha a moment, staring at the grooves of the stone, the purposeful counter set in front of it, to realize that this was a forge. Fang paused, cocking his head and tilting his feline eyes back up toward her.

"This forge only lights when a Warden has awoken," he told her.

"When's the last time you saw it lit?" she asked.

"I have never, but before me, the time of dragons and conquerers came with the forge was bright and hot," Fang replied, skirting the room to place small hands on slate slabs that had been hewn into the wall, similar to a tomb.

"Lot a good a griffin must have been against dragons," Tabitha spoke her thought aloud, wondering how that would have sufficed. Balerion was large, perhaps even big enough to ride, but in comparison to the real Balerion? He was a pup, a mite without scales to protect him. Depending on when they were, dragons might fly again and be creatures that she'd have to be wary of. The thought of the flying reptilians made her shudder, Balerion pushing his head into her side as he noticed that she was disturbed.

"Griffins are fast," Fang countered, pushing the stone slab with a shocking amount of strength. "Faster than dragons perhaps. But they're not here to serve the same purpose. Balerion is here as a partner and an escort, not to raze cities or conquer empires."

"Good, I don't think that was on my bucket list," Tabitha quipped. "What year is it? Do you know?"

"If I've been keeping good enough record, 294 AC," the stone had been removed entirely and in its place was the hollowed out tomb filled with items.

294? That was a few years before the events of the first book. While she might not have been ready to embark on any crusade to change the ill fate of many characters, she realized now that she had time to figure out what the hell she was doing. "Well that's a relief. Would've sucked to show up after-" but the words didn't form, her tongue twisting in her mouth and becoming slow and dumb. She tried again, trying to explain the situation that would play out in a few years time, only to find that she could not speak it aloud at all.

Fang turned, his lips curving up in a smile. "Ah, so it is true," he commented, looking more his age than childish as he crossed his arms. "Legend says that for all the knowledge the Wardens might have, they cannot speak it to another."

Tabitha wanted to dash her brains against the stone. She knew all of this shit and she couldn't tell anyone? Couldn't write it down? Now this threw a bigger wrench in her plans. For if she came to a situation where she could save someone by simply saying 'hey look out for the Freys', she could not. "How am I supposed to do anything?" she hissed irritably.

"You'll know. Just as the forge beats with the life in your heart, you will know when it is time to make yourself known and to help change the tides of fate. Actions speak louder than words," Fang retorted, pulling out a thick, padded doublet that was within the stone storage. "Here, these should fit you. It is cold outside the forge and eventually, you will have to brave it."

Accepting the attire that had been stolen away for centuries, Tabitha was more than eager to put it on in place of her own thin clothing. Things could not be simple. She could not have the power over death in words, she would have to be clever, strong, resilient and work her way into politics without the cushion of a title or lands. Christ, that was going to be hard and even having Balerion beside her seemed more like a burden than a saving grace. No, she was thankful he was there, her dark star amidst the turmoil and confusion that was the world she'd suddenly been thrust into, but she felt daunted.

While Fang continued to rummage through the ancient artifacts of Wardens passed, she sat on a bench made of rock, hewn into the wall, and stared into the dancing flames of the hearth. Fire had taken her from her past life and now a new fire was ignited. Her fingertips swirled along her open palm, feeling the strange new mark that had found its way there, that hadn't been there. A swirl shaped like a griffin's head, rough around the edges, and akin to a burn--as if it had been branded into her skin. It did not hurt, but she wondered if this was her boon as a Warden.

To save Westeros. Obviously, the Night King would be the largest priority. Given that she was north of the Wall, she had to assume that her 'in' would be with the wildlings or the Night's Watch. Again, her head throbbed in worry, wondering how she'd manage to convince others that she was worthy of their time and not just a good lay, rape, or twat. She could not speak of what she knew, so she had to count on her actions and the cleverness of her tongue to aid those that she knew Westeros would be better with. Could she make it to Winterfell before Ned Stark left for King's Landing? Could she stop Bran from falling from the broken tower? Did she want to stop him? So many questions that had no answers and yet the fire danced madly in front of her, beckoning with flaming fingers, whispering into her ears.

"We shall guide you."

Through fire there had been rebirth. Not in the same manner as Dondarrian when he had a priest bless and revive him, but in another ancient method. Between worlds and veils. The fire had claimed the Warden and then spat her out into the arctic mountain that would suffice to become her home for the next few years as she gained her feet. A modern woman in a dark, twisted medieval fantasy. Not once had Tabitha yearned to be tossed amongst the pages she read with delight, because she knew that life was fickle, dangerous, and uncertain. No one was favored, even the main characters could die.

"Here," Fang interrupted her train of thoughts, breaking her line of sight with the fire that she had fallen into a trans with. He held up a scabbard before her, the sheathe a dark midnight blue, enameled with white gold detailing. Not too much, simple and clean, just enough that it wasn't utterly nondescript. The weight felt heavy on her lap, her fingers turning around the straps of the belt before she gripped the handle and pulled part of the blade out.

For a sword that had been collecting dust for more than a hundred years, it was honed and sharp. No, that was not right. There was a reason for that. Tabitha pulled it out entirely, the rippling waves in the folded steel catching the light of the fire and throwing refractions around the space like a mirror held to the sun. This was Valyrian steel, with no need to be taken to a whetstone.

"Fuck, I don't know how to use a sword."

[darkicedragon]

Ep 11 thoughts

Still took over two hours from watching and typing this up, and 1k altogether. Because of course it is. XD;;

> Lord/Lost child - Okay, when I first saw this, I thought this might have been about Rael, ahaha.

> Raskreia’s smiling? That was so weird. XD - Also with her Big Innocent eyes. It was weird seeing her like that, ahaha.

> Was also worried this was going to be another flashback episode, ahaha. Glad that it wasn’t.

> Kei’s so tall. I love it, haha.

> I’m still confused over how Regis and Seira are supposed to know Rai came from the coffin.

> Raskreia actually using mind control? - But can barely get into Seira’s mind, when Seira’s super young in comparison and not into her full power yet. - But I guess Seira has a full soul weapon?

> Pfft, Rael giving his report when he’s been in the human world for like, two hours, and definitely didn’t properly check things out.

> Aaaand there goes Seira, oof.

> ‘Rajak, you will interrogate Gejutel about what we have just discussed.’ So uh, is that torture or more mind control?

> ‘I will preserve order in Lukedonia’ By imposing your rule and trying to control everyone through mind control and fear of death, yes, very good.

> Yeeey, the plane! - Wooo, they kept what they could of the trio sneaking in, pfft. I wasn’t really expecting them to keep the pillow bit, since it’s such a small scene with little impact, considering how much they cut of everything else.

> Oh yes, Rai, Frankenstein and Regis definitely left the trio behind. 8′)

> That room the Clan Leaders are talking in is so extravagant, wow. - Poor Kei can’t fit in the hecking chair though. XD - Compared to Ludis, who looks like he’s dwarfed by his chair, aha.

> But why are there so many candles right behind them. Right next to books, nooooo.

> ‘Gejutel would never betray the Lord’ - After, you know, he betrayed the previous Lord by not following them to eternal sleep. But I guess that’s maybe manhwa only. Still, they haven’t explained why Gejutel didn’t actually follow the others.

> Where the fuck did Rajak flash step in from. XDD It doesn’t look like there’s doors behind them. Just suddenly, ‘poof’ he’s right next to them. They couldn’t even have him walk in from the side?

> This scene really just looks like some 90s anime spread, where the characters are posing.

> Rozaria and Tao would be friends through nailpolish. ;-;

> Okay, there are two doors at the front of the room. Away from where Rajak zapped in from. XD And the clan leaders are apparently staring at an unlit fireplace. - I guess that’s okay since they have soooo many fire sources right behind them, ahahaha.

> Damn, Frankenstein broke his plane in half. XD

> Regis looks so dang tired/freaked out. XD;

> Forbidden region - They didn’t hide the mansion, which, fair, wasn’t really needed. - Or hide the room Ragnorak was in. - - Which kinda amuses me now, because like. Raskreia is super pissed at Rai, and her dad dies, and there was no...investigation for proof or anything? Just insta ‘No-one is allowed here’. Because just. Damn. They could have so easily found the other half of Ragnorak that way. XD;;; Unless only Rai’s powers could open the door, but I’m sure they could force it open.

> That door is hyyyyuuuuggggeee.

> Rai opening it with his power did look terrible though, pfft.

> They kept Ragnorak’s design at least.

> Damn, they just teleported Regis into the next scene, aha.

> ‘Can’t let you get in the way’ - Eeeh, don’t think I like this one. I preferred it when it was out of trying to protect them from Frankenstein. XDD Or maybe that’s what it was meant to be, but they didn’t elaborate.

> 8O The mask came off!

> YESSSSS, THE TRIO. They kept the great introoossss, yesssss.

> Tao’s so great. ;w; This whole scene is great. - Not really expecting them to explain how the numbers were assigned though, ahha.

> ‘So we need to do our job now’ Awwwwww. qwq Except they’re being paid to protect the school and its students, BUT ANYWAY. Frankenstein, Rai and Regis are part of that. I’ll take it.

> Shame they didn’t include the reason why Frankenstein was giving them an updated D drug. XD But at least they kept the T2, ahah. ....But not the explanation, but I guess that’s self-explanatory, ahah.

> ....How did Rai and Frankenstein find out about Seira and Gejutel.

> Wait. We’re having the Noblesse conversation NOW? - And also in front of Regis, which is hilarious. XD - I guess it’s a good thing that T2 know that now though.

> ....Noooo, M-21 still doesn’t know T2 wanted to be enhanced for him. ;-; That could be an off camera scene, but I wanted to see his reactionnnn.

> Rai. Could you please clarify and explain, at least to your family? No? Okay.

> ‘Would you want to associate with a criminal?’ Rai. Rai. The trio are MASSIVE criminals. And Regis is now a criminal because he attacked his own people. XDD

> Ow, the Lord spending with Rai over Raskreia.

> Noooo, they took out the trio waking up at the hospital. ;-; - We don’t get to see M-21′s development of resisting mind control, or T2′s nightmares, or even how that area deals with all the shipwrecked people. - ...They haven’t mentioned this is in the bermuda triangle, hahahaha.

> ...Yeah, fair, Gejutel raised everyone since they were all kids when their parents died.

> Raskreia running? That’s not a very elegant, noble thing to do.

> .....Ow, yeah, fair about her reaction to hearing her dad ask Rai to be the Lord. - I like how they’ve expanded her backstory. At least, it makes more sense than the other adjustments the writers have tried to do previously.

> Wow, Gejutel actually told her. - And by doing so, is proving that he’s more loyal to Rai than her, whoooops.

> Seira’s still unconscious? Dang. - Nope, never mind. XD She’s awake now.

[aqueerdarrenstan]

Kuroshitsuji Theory - Who Summoned the Demon?

So I realize I have never even once reblogged Kuroshitsuji to this blog, but lately I’ve been so consumed by this manga and this one particular theory won’t stop haunting me. It’s been an eternity since I really got taken in by a juicy piece of media like this (maybe since my Death Note days), so I figured I really needed to get it off my mind by writing it out.

This is- quite long, lmao. And I’m not sure if someone has already made this theory, because I only recently started diving into the fandom. Spoilers begin under the cut.

I’m gunna start off by saying that I can’t believe someone actually pulled off the “[Character] has had a secret twin the entire time!” and it was honestly one of the best, well executed plot twists in all of manga. I only just recently got back into this story, having loved it back in like 2010 but never seen more than the first two seasons of the anime. I was actually shocked to learn that the story was still going on ten years later, and got so excited I accidentally spoiled this big plot reveal before I started reading the manga. At first I was mad at the thought of it, but the fact that Yana Toboso had laid out hints since book two had me stoked. I quickly became obsessed with finding all of the hints to this beautifully planned plot twist, and in the end I’m glad I was spoiled of this because it was such a joy finding all the little Easter eggs I would have bypassed if I had not known.

But it also made me very wary of other plot twists that could possibly happen. It made me suspicious of moments where something is just ever so slightly off; that might not be translation miscommunication, but rather something more. Specifically around chapter 135 is when something caught my attention. After the mansion is attacked on December 14th and the twins are sold to a mysterious man, Our!Ciel seems to have a glimmer of hope that things will get better. We can already see how Real!Ciel seems to be more cautious than O!Ciel. He doesn’t buy into the hope like O!Ciel does so easily; he knows that something is going to go very wrong.

Yono has laid out the differences between the twins so well; it’s as subtle in their personalities as it is in the wisps of their bangs. Specifically, a few chapters earlier gave us insight to how protective R!Ciel is of his younger twin. We also get a whole segment about how upset he is by the idea of O!Ciel leaving him in the distant future to own a toy shop outside of the Phantomhive land; he is so devastated by this idea that he refuses to leave his bed to go to class.

He seems specifically upset that O!Ciel has no qualm about leaving his older brother. This is a key moment for R!Ciel- that perhaps his younger brother doesn’t need him as much as R!Ciel needs to protect him. Fast forward a few chapters, and in the midst of their torture we have moments when R!Ciel continues to vehemently protect his younger brother as much as he could while locked in that cage. Offering words of encouragement, promising that they’ll make it out. But then the culmination of events comes to a head, and R!Ciel shows that he is once again more wary than his younger brother.

See, we had been made to believe that the choice between brothers was a random one by the next pages.

And then we are made to believe that this is a sacrifice made by O!Ciel to summon the demon. The demon continually says as such, but this is where I get thrown off in the following panels.

Certain things about this just don’t line up. In order for the demon to appear, a soul needed to be sacrificed to it as an offering. O!Ciel, however, doesn’t even seem fully aware until this moment that this meant his brother was officially dead. He saw his brother stabbed, certainly, but the state of shock hadn’t settled in yet to absorb the fact that R!Ciel was truly dead. A few pages later and we get:

O!Ciel is completely confused as how how he would have sacrificed his brother’s soul to a demon. He had no conscious thought about summoning the demon; certainly, he had several pages of wishing death upon everyone else in the room after seeing his brother stabbed, but he didn’t seem aware of the fact that his brother was truly dead until he pieces it together at the demon’s hint.

This raises the question: is it even possible to accidentally sacrifice someone to summon a demon? O!Ciel had no choice in the matter at all, about his brother being taken over him, and he seemed to be in complete denial about all of it. Further, there is a whole page after R!Ciel is taken where O!Ciel begs someone to help save R!Ciel. There is something to be said about it being subconscious, as if maybe O!Ciel had been preferring death to this torture without realizing it also meant he was wishing for his brother’s death. But to me, what seemed much more in character:

It was R!Ciel who summoned the demon, using his own soul as sacrifice.

It would make sense for R!Ciel to come to this conclusion in those moments before death. He was more perceptive to the upcoming danger than O!Ciel; he knew what the society was boiling down their torture toward. While it seemed O!Ciel was shocked by the turn of events, R!Ciel seemed to have pieced it together. He knew one of them was going to die.

And if I can pick his brain, it’s easy to see his choices lay out in front of him. If one of them were to die, would R!Ciel simply hand over the brother he spent his whole life to protect? Wasn’t he painfully aware that O!Ciel didn’t have the separation anxiety he himself felt when he was apart from his twin? He knew that O!Ciel would be able to live without him, but he was unsure if he would be able to do the same. Didn’t it take his parents telling him that he would still be able to help his brother with the toy shop by being head of Phatomhive for him to agree to let O!Ciel pursue that dream on his own? R!Ciel wouldn’t be able to help a dead O!Ciel; it would leave him truly alone the way his own death wouldn’t. After all he still needed to protect his younger brother.

To protect his younger brother. How would he be able to protect his younger brother with his death? Certainly O!Ciel would be next on the sacrifice table- unless. Unless they managed to summon the demon on the first try. The only way to buy a bit of time for O!Ciel would be if they were to summon the demon with R!Ciel’s soul. Or better- if R!Ciel was able to summon the demon on O!Ciel’s behalf, the demon would then belong to O!Ciel, wouldn’t it? R!Ciel would have no way to be certain, but what more could he have done? He was on his last rope. It was either try and O!Ciel would be gifted power great enough to acquire freedom, or create enough of a pandemonium that O!Ciel could possibly slip free.

Whether R!Ciel came to this conclusion in the cage or not is irrelevant. “”It was a choice made without reason” my ass. Perhaps to O!Ciel, at least; we all know it could very well be missing panels- we know how much Yana loves to do that. R!Ciel could have swayed the choice somehow. Even if he came to the conclusion as he was being dragged away and set on the table, it would still be valid.

This leaves the demon choosing to latch onto O!Ciel for some reason. We see him wander about for a bit uncertain of who had summoned him. Perhaps with R!Ciel’s soul eaten, it was harder for him to place that. But then he caught onto O!Ciel; someone similar enough to the one who had summoned him to fool everyone in his life for three years into thinking he was the other. The demon may or may not have been aware that it wasn’t exactly the same person to summon him. I don’t think it changes much, seeing as the only thing the demon cares about is his next meal. After all, he’s used to getting at least two meals per summoning, and if he ate the summoner’s life as his first, then what? Or he could have been unaware, and after all, hadn’t the boy in the cage been denying god? Hadn’t he just lost his twin brother? It certainly seems he is the only person in the room who could have summoned him. After all, who would sacrifice their own life to summon a demon? Wasn’t the purpose of summoning a demon to then be granted its power? Certainly the demon has never encountered that before, so why would he assume he already ate the summoner’s soul to get there?

On the denying god thing, I do think that R!Ciel had certainly been swayed to do so in his last moments. The parallel of this moment, O!Ciel convincing R!Ciel that god doesn’t exist, could very possibly been going through his head.

Yana loves a good parallel.

But this also begs to answer questions about what the reconstructed R!Ciel is up to in the latest chapters. Could someone so protective of his younger brother be ruining his life as such? There is still so much in the air about this, this theory aside, that it’s hard to tell. It seems he is upset that his twin brother escaped without him, didn’t use the demon to save him like he would have for his twin. But it is also in the air that this version of R!Ciel is even the real Real!Ciel. After all, his soul was definitely eaten by Sebastian. With the reanimated body, did the original soul come back, or a copy? Is the soul a clone? And if it is, can that soul really be considered the same as the original? The shinigami were called back for the reanimated corpses, but none that we know of so far came back for Ciel Phantomhive- perhaps because they too got confused by O!Ciel taking his name? Who knows.

And more importantly, would that mean that Sebastian should truly belong to R!Ciel? This concerns me because of how much the demon stresses that he would never take upon two contracts at once, and makes a special exception to allow it into the third clause, even though it is technically its own clause. I could see R!Ciel using this to his advantage in whatever game he is trying to play, though I’m not sure how effective it would be.

This theory has been kicking my ass the past few weeks. It blooms the story open for me in ways that get me too excited for the upcoming chapters to only be once a month. I need ANSWERS, MS. TOBOSO.

[cozycryptidcorner]

Chapter One

Notes: Hey hey hey hey! For those who don’t know, this is a celebration of ya girl hitting 1.5k followers! You all spoke, and I listened, so buckle up, pals, and come get ya’ll’s juice. 

The air of the ship is remarkably sterile, every breath of it almost flushes your lungs free of living cells, and a bleach-like taste has long settled on the back of your tongue, one you haven’t been able to wash out. A water bottle sits on the polished table in front of you, one that boasts its source is an underground spring on a relatively untouched planet, definitely something far out of your price range and would never accept unless given for free. The ship rattles briefly as the inertial dampeners compensate for a sudden source of gravity, though so subtle that the water in the biodegradable plastic trembles only slightly.

“That means we’ve hit Lolth’s atmosphere.” A Starward Matchmakers™ representative smiles, her teeth too white and her mouth too wide. Her tone somehow converges on every single nerve you have in your body.

“Oh, of course, how could I forget.” She waves her hand dismissively. “But you should maybe put a damper on that attitude of yours, the royal family isn’t known for putting up with sass.”

Oh, you want to punch her in that perfectly crafted nose. Biting your lip down, you try to focus on the shift of gravity, the artificial pull slowly dying as a planet’s natural force takes hold. The slow descent feels like forever, the lack of windows in your cabin only torturing you further. You wish you could be up in the cockpit, strapped into the captain’s chair, completely in control, but no. It wouldn’t be proper. Finally, another attendant pokes their head through the open door, announcing the finished landing.

Before you stand, the representative grabs your hand in an ironlike grip. “Remember; grace, poise, elegance. Not someone of your reputation.” She is far stronger than someone of her skinny frame can manage without modifications. Even when you nod, she doesn’t immediately let go, most likely in the hopes that prolonging this threat might actually put some fear into your soul.

You pull away, eyeing her in a challenge, and after a moment too long, she relents. Calmly, you pick up the personal bag you were allowed to bring and leave the cabin, the Starward Matchmaker™ representative on your heels. The unmistakable scent of ‘natural’ air hits your nostrils, like a balming relief against a day-old burn, and you try to pick up your pace down the thin row of cabins and out into the open. It’s hot, far hotter than you are used to, a dry breeze doing nothing to relieve your already sweating skin. A dull hum permeates the cavernous space, the engines of your ship still in the process of a complete shut-down. At the very foot of the stairway is a tall humanoid, gray in complexion, silky white hair blowing out like thin spider webs.

“Mistress,” he says, bowing first to you, then to the representative. “Allow me to welcome you and your entourage to our lovely planet. The keias is beside himself with excitement to finally meet his soulmate.”

“Thank you!” Manners matter, you think, eyes flickering overhead to where two slabs of metal slowly shut a dangerous atmosphere away from the underground’s inhabitants. The Starward Matchmaker™ representative pinches your arm in a location no one beneath you would see in the way of a prompt. “And- it will be my honor to meet them, sir.”

“Of course, please, follow me. Your things will be taken to an apartment while a more, er, permanent solution will be found.”

“I understand, thank you.” You take one step down on the polished, faux marble steps of the ship, then take a pause. Perhaps it goes unnoticeable by others since it only lasts a fraction of a moment. Am I really doing this, you wonder in that second, looking at the hard stone floor of the hangar, is this who I am, really? It passes, and you continue downwards, the question left unanswered. You fold your hands, nails digging against knuckles, and follow the Drow escort through the unbearably warm cavern.

There’s a warbling pattern in the stone, one that holds your attention for a minute too long and has the Starward Matchmaker™ representative gently kick at your heel. Head up, you can almost hear her voice in your head, and so you do, obediently, and try focusing on some other things noticeable at this position. For example, while there are other ships in the hangar, not too many, but the quality of each is unquestionable. All of them are sleek, shining, and shaped in the typical ornamental fashion that Abraxas Corporations has long since patented, each number that you see painted on the sides showing that the oldest model is only a single year out of the factory. A fantastical waste of money, in your humble opinion, but you don’t dare verbalize it right now.

The drow attendant leads you to a tunnel, one dimly lit by hazy blue lights lining the floor, and the temperature becomes just slightly more bearable. While the stone you walk on is smoother than those fancy ships outside, the walls and ceiling are rawer, bumps and crevices creating a sort of texture that at least gives you something fascinating to look at until the drow attendant opens a metallic door embedded into the rock. It’s a station, you think, with a train or trolley of some kind waiting against the wall. The doors part the moment you are within range, and finally- finally, a blast of cooler air soothes your skin, your entire body relaxing under the blissful relief of air conditioning.

“Have a seat wherever you’d like, my lady.”

Oh! The attendant is talking to you. With a small mutter of thanks, you take one of the cushioned benches by the window, staring at the glass, trying to see past your reflection and back into the tunnel. The ride isn’t that long, at least, in comparison to the time it took to get from a deep-space station to planetside, but the nervous anticipation makes it seem like another eternity. You are already standing up to get out, though you step to the side for your guide to go first.

You wouldn’t call this place bustling, unlike some of the previous stops your ‘entourage’ has ended up at. The people who do occupy the area aren’t in any kind of hurry, either, but are merely wandering to their destination at a leisurely pace. And, unfortunately, the moment you are seen, all eyes seem to fall on you like a bug beneath a microscope. Which, you suppose, is a funny kind of metaphor to use given the species and circumstances, but even so, you walk through the hub with your head held high and your posture perfectly straight, just as practiced only a few days before. A far cry from the slinking and prowling that you are used to, that’s for sure.

The three of you walk all the way to the other side of this terminal, towards a gilded set of elevators, all of which are guarded by another drow. Your own drow attendant slips a key card from his pocket, sliding it through a reader, and the machine beeps in confirmation. The ground rises rapidly, as the tube you stand in lowers, going down, deep into the depths of the planet, rocks surrounding the glass until the tunnel empties into a cavern more massive than the city you hail from, buildings built into what is left of a long-extinct forest from the planet’s distant past. Flickering lights of homes and offices could almost fool you into thinking them to be stars, but you know better. Still, it might be nice to look at something and pretend you aren’t buried under a couple of kilometers of rock.

The elevator zooms past and beneath the central part of the city, moving further down into the natural lava tunnels of a long-inactive violent core. The royalty of the world lives deeper from the surface, probably for the better air conditioning, you’d gander, or some sort of reigning mythology about how they’re closer to their planet/god(s) this way. You hadn’t really had the time to pour over every little detail of this world’s history and lore, since literally four days ago, the royalty of Lolth was the last thing on your mind.

Eventually, the flawless glass doors open, and you are let out into a garden of sorts. There is grass, at least, you think it’s grass, lining either side of the stone pathway, flowers sprouting in areas that are easy to listlessly meander around. Bioluminescent mushrooms and moss grow along the cavern walls and pathway, though rustic-looking lampposts help to light your way every couple of meters. There, up ahead, you realize as you try to document just how far the lanterns go, someone is already walking towards you. Could it be him? Your body fills with anxiety, your fight instincts gearing up to, you don’t know, pretend to cower?

“Is this it?” A voice asks, and you are already confident that you hate this person. ‘Overbearing’Condescending would be a nice way to describe their tone, but you would take it a step further and maybe say it’s condescending and maybe even bastardly for good flavor.

“Yes, Vice Martial,” the drow attendant bows deeply. “As much as I am certain the two of you would appreciate introductions, I’m afraid the keias was very specific about the immediate transportation she would take to his presence. I’m afraid we are already running short on time.”

“Be silent, I gave you no permission to speak.” The Vice Martial’s eight legs click, click, click against the ground as he approaches, eyes narrowing. “I was against this ridiculous farse from the start, and to have something so small, so pitiful, dare enter our home and live off of our land like a parasite?” He leans in closer, so close you can smell alcohol on his breath. “Unacceptable.”

Show no fear, have no weakness.

“Of course, you have your apprehensions!” The Starward Matchmaker™ representative pulls a glossy brochure out of seemingly nowhere, her grin vast and terrifying, her voice the epitome of perfectly perky customer service. “Anyone daring to make such a big decision should be terrified! But at Starward Matchmakers™, our focus is to bring a harmonious connection between two destined souls is something we take so very seriously. If our experts have matched the two together, then our girl here is perfect for your prince, excuse me, keias, in every way!”

“I don’t care about what welp that little bastard sleeps with,” the vice marshal snaps, at least now directing his drunken anger to the Starward Matchmaker™ representative, “I care about whether it’s right for Lolth.”

“And those are some very valid fears!” She somehow smiles even wider. “But allow me to put everything to ease. Our satisfaction rate is one-hundred percent, which is nothing less of perfect. The people I represent have no intention of sullying our records now, with this. Do you understand? Of course, you do! Now if you would be so kind as to _excuse us,” _ she grips your arm and shoves her way forward, _ “we have some magic to make!™” _

The vice marshal doesn’t even have a chance to say anything else, because you are suddenly shoved into the entrance of an… apartment? House? The drow attendant and the Starward Matchmaker™ representative stand in front of the closed doors, either to block anyone’s entry or deter you from exiting, you don’t know. Probably both.

“Remember,” the Starward Matchmaker™ representative says, smoothing one of your sleeves of nonexistent wrinkles, “no attitude. No spunky quips. I don’t care how funny you think whatever joke you’re making is, you will be quiet as a dandelion. Show him not the respect you think he deserves, but the respect he thinks he deserves.”

This is all a reiteration of things you have been told over and over and over again, so you resist rolling your eyes. Though, whatever exasperation you feel is quickly gone the moment you see someone beginning to descend from the long, marble stairway. His appearance is the same as the photographs you were shown when they first sat you down, hangover pounding in your bloodstream. His hair is so dark it looks almost black, skin a deep gray with touches of blue. You immediately stand taller, mouth squeezed shut, eyes watching his every move as if he will burst forward and rip you to pieces.

He has a reputation for doing worse.

The clicking of his steps stop as he stands, full height, right in front of you, and you have to tilt your chin upwards just to meet his gaze head-on. Even with the Starward Matchmaker™ representative right in the room, she can’t see your face, so she can’t police your reaction. You don’t give him anything demure, nor submissive. There is no shyness in your eyes, you don’t allow yourself to feel small, and you most certainly refuse to show a smidgen of fear.

“Hello,” you say, and you can practically hear the Starward Matchmaker™ representative’s face hit her palm for speaking out of turn.

“Hello,” he responds, cocking his head ever so slightly to the side, his pure black seeing-eyes blinking only once, his motion sensors staying blank and still as though dead. “It is an honor to finally meet you.”

“I- it is an honor to finally meet you as well.” You wince at the formality of this meeting, wishing that the Starward Matchmaker™ representative and drow attendant would just leave the two of you alone, but you know that you will not receive that… how did the Starward Matchmaker™ representative put it… privilege, at least until she can see the relationship is blossoming the way it needs to.

The way they need it to.

“Your planet is beautiful,” compliments always work, and you genuinely mean this one, “I mean, well, I haven’t seen a whole lot of it, but just from the little that I’ve been through, it’s... “you shrug, “really nice.”

“Oh.” He cocks his head the other way, now, a lock of hair the color of the blue-gray stones falling into his face. “I remember, your profile says that you weren’t born on a planet.”

“No,” you shake your head, “but I’ve been planetside a- um, a few times. Humans need real gravity every now and then.”

“Real gravity is good for any ground-species.”

The conversation is going nowhere, clearly, so the Starward Matchmaker™ representative decides that this moment where she cuts in. “If I may, _keias?” _

His face looks over at her in an instant, the movement of his neck so quick it would have cracked if he was human. The prince’s gaze hardens, perhaps unnoticeable by someone of his own species, but easy to note by both you and the Starward Matchmaker™ representative. After a lone, nerve-wracking moment where he observes her like a bug beneath his feet, he offers single, clipped, nod.

“It’s been a very long journey, very much worth it, I am sure, but,” she lays a hand on your arm, and you immediately tense up, “she’s quite tired, and I’m afraid I have to get her squared away for the night. I hope you understand! I’m just here for her wellbeing in such a foreign situation.”

The prince looks at you.

You don’t say anything.

“Of course,” he says, squaring his shoulders. “Elias will bring you to your suite. May I expect you over for an evening meal?”

“We’ll see how she feels.” The Starward Matchmaker™ representative pets your arm. “This is all so overwhelming for her, I’m sure you understand.”

The prince places both hands behind his back and looks over you, not with the same chilling observation he gave the Starward Matchmaker™, but something... else. Something softer. “I’m sure I will.”

“What in god’s name was _that?” _

“I don’t understand.”

“Yes, you do.” The Starward Matchmaker™ representative folds her hands together, looking at you over them with narrowed eyes. “You went off script.”

You offer a listless shrug, looking her in the eye. The lights here, at least, are bright enough for you to see comfortably without needing to strain your eyes. “I just don’t think you can make a decent connection with someone when every permutation has been desperately thought out.”

The Starward Matchmaker™ representative huffs, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. “You aren’t here to be yourself, you’re here to do a gosh-darn job. This isn’t all rainbows and puppies, I thought you understood how serious this business is.”

“I do.”

“It doesn’t look like it, honey! What made you think that acting like some bland little twat was a good idea?”

You sit down on one of the plush, oddly misshapen chair, glaring at the wall while the Starward Matchmaker™ representative goes on a tirade. The room is large, the ceiling far higher than most places you’ve ended up in, and this isn’t even the full extent of your suite. You get a room, the Starward Matchmaker™ representative gets a room, a personal servant the royal family is providing gets a room, and for whatever reason, a whole extra bedroom, wholly unused, just down the hall from yours. For any guests, the drow attendant had said, but there is no one you can think of hosting at the moment.

Oh, the Starward Matchmaker™ representative looks like she’s tiring herself out. Better start nodding in agreement to whatever else she says.

“Good,” she, at least, seems satisfied. “I’m glad we’ve had this little chat, then. Hurry and wash up, then, we want you to look presentable tonight.”

So you are going to dinner. You sit up a little straighter, then bounce off the chair and into your room. There’s an adjacent bathroom, with a dress already hanging up by the mirror, a gray, fluttery thing that will ripple easily with movement. Color doesn’t really matter down here, you remember, poking at all the dull jewelry and makeup, driders and drows can’t process the light spectrum as well as humans. What they can sense, though, is movement, so clothes that shift and float with the slightest gesture are the ones that are worn to show off. Still, putting something on that’s basically the equivalent of neon orange feels like putting a target on your back.

Shower first. Think later. It’s real water, too, and not those sonic frequencies that knock dirt from pores or those sanisaunas ™ that disinfect the day’s grit away with nothing more than hazy steam. Today, though, you can’t take your time, and you are too hyped up to stay under the water’s stream for too long, no matter how blissful it feels. The soap has some kind of deep earthy scent, not one that you might select for yourself, but one you aren’t abhorrent towards. It works a nice lather against your skin, though the bar slips from your clumsy fingers since you aren’t exactly used to scrubbing the good old fashioned way.

There’s a towel waiting for you, hanging up against the rack. It’s the first thing in this place you’ve seen that’s white, even the glossy marble and metalwork of the whole suite, including the bathroom, are various shades of gray and black. Which isn’t to say that it looks terrible, because this is sincerely the most beautiful place you’ve ever managed to score, it’s just… odd, you think, that the towels are white, as though they were purchased and placed here with you in mind. You wrap it around your body, stepping out, and taking a moment to stand in front of a mirror. There are dark circles beneath your eyes, crescents of exhaustion that beg you to take a moment or two just to sleep.

You get dressed, instead. The gown is at least designed to look more complicated than it really is, and you manage to get it on by yourself. The zipper slides up your back with a bit of ease, then you smooth down the tight bodice, noticing only now how badly your hands are shaking. Your mouth tastes dry, and perhaps the unnatural ashy paleness of your skin truly brings out the grayness around your eyes. The wall is cool against your back as you lean back, sliding down to sit on the hard floor, placing your forehead against your knees.

Breathe.

It’s hard, thinking about having to eat dinner with him later. It’s hard to think about him in general, and to have him matched as your soulmate? You’ve always known these things are farces, of political or corporate gain, and now you dig your heels into the ground of that belief and hold it closer.

The door knocks with a volume and efficiency only the last person you wish to see at the moment possesses. “Time to go, sugar! We can’t have the prince waiting, can we?”

It takes a wobbling moment for you to stand, hand braced up against the wall, but you somehow manage it. Throwing up a facade of calmness that you haven’t felt since you were hauled into that interrogation room five days ago, you open the door. The Starward Matchmaker™ representative holds out a box, the lid already off to reveal a glittering pair of shoes. Not high heels, thank the gods, you don’t know how you would pull together the energy to fight her on that. It’s pair of flats, a pattern of shattered glass decorating the outside, the inside surprisingly comfortable to what anyone would assume by looking them over.

You put them on, holding on one of the chairs for balance, and take a few experimental steps. It’s decent enough, but even with thousands of years to perfect the art of shoes, it still takes a couple of good hours to break even the best of pairs in. With a small sigh, you shift the weight between your toes and heels, already feeling where those blisters are going to end up forming, but there isn’t really anything you can do about it. The Starward Matchmaker™ representative isn’t going to let you wear your old but comfy combat boots if she can help it, you’ve had to smuggle them in the very bottom of your luggage and bribe an inspector to keep quiet about it.

After a moment of watching your movements with a fixated grace that you’ve long since gotten used to, the Starward Matchmaker™ representative sighs, tucking a piece of perfectly blond hair behind her hair. “Not what we all wanted, I’m sure, but it will do.”

Pressing your lips together, you don’t risk rolling your eyes lest she suddenly decides that you are far too tired to dine with the prince tonight. You don’t wish to be stuck in the suite with her for another night, you’ll go crazy, and you can’t have the prince catching wind of any violence on your part.

“Now, remember; healthy appetite.” The Starward Matchmaker™ representative comes up behind you, playing with your still-damp hair, twisting it into something you’re sure is attractive to the driders. “There is no such thing as ‘ladylike’ here, but you must prove that you’ll be able to produce good and healthy heirs.”

You wrinkle your nose, but don’t respond.

The Starward Matchmaker™ representative tugs at your roots, causing your eyes to tear up. “And whatever you do,” her voice is low, threatening, “I will be watching. Every movement, every breath, every bite of food you dare to take. If you so much as twitch in a way I don’t like,” she pushes a pin through whatever she sculpted, taking no care to be wary of your scalp, “you will be terminated. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Her voice turns back to that sickening cheerfulness that makes you want to wring her neck. “Turn around.”

You obey, hands flat at your sides.

“Oh,” Starward Matchmaker™ representative holds a hand over her mouth, “you look beautiful, honey! Just so,” she fans herself with her fingers, “marvelous. You’ve come such a long way in such a short time!”

You say nothing.

Read Chapter Two Here