#but you had to make a deal with the literal devil to keep him alive and be together again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

boosoonhao · 5 months

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even death (could not keep us apart)

minghao x reader 10k words supernatural au swearing and mentions of death

Fire. Salt. Pain. A loud bang that seems to shatter your eardrums and reverberate through your whole body. Then nothing. For the longest time there’s absolutely nothing; just a mind-bending, insanity-inducing blank darkness. But then -

the distinct smell of sulfur, the taste of dirt and sand between your teeth and on your tongue. Voices, low and foreign and nothing but background noise for the ringing in your ears. A face, blurred lines making up eyes and a nose and a mouth you’re so sure you knew once but cannot even place anymore.

An emotion, the first one you’re able to feel, to understand, familiar and eerily recognizable; fear.

A voice, louder than the rest, tones and syllables slurred and shaky, almost unintelligible:

“You’re alive. Holy fucking shit, you’re alive.”

Minghao is particular about quite a few things, including, but not limited to his car. He’s never allowed you to eat on the road, always insisted on stopping at diners or waiting until you reach a motel. Whenever a hunt has left either of your clothes got especially dirty, he’d insist on getting rid of them, though, he has to admit that the sight of you; sulking in the passenger seat in nothing but your underwear and one of his t-shirts was not one he really minded.

You’re covered, literally from head to toe, in dirt and grime, wet mud dripping onto the leather and pooling at your bare feet. The part of Minghao that’s meticulous, neat and that itches to chew you out for ruining his stuff tingles. But then he looks at you, at the person beyond the dirt and the mud, and he holds his tongue;

you’re wearing the same outfit that he buried you in, a thought that makes bile threaten to rise in his throat. It’s so macabre, he thinks, so undiginified, but at least he’s glad he had the sense to bury you in something practical in favor of the frilly, stupid dresses Soonyoung had suggested. That’s not what bothers him.

What bothers Minghao is the look on your face; the hollowness of your cheeks and the dull, barely there glint in your eyes. The tiredness in your posture and how skinny your wrists are as you clutch onto your own fingers when he drives. You’ve barely even said a word since they resurrected you, and despite Joshua’s close examination and subsequent reassurances, Minghao worries. Joshua is good at what he does, but he’s no doctor. Your body might be fine, functional, but Minghao is - for maybe the third time since becoming a hunter - truly, really scared.

“I was dead,” you say, at last, voice flat and as dull as your eyes. Minghao has heard you feign nonchalance, has heard you school your usual bubbly and explosive voice into something low and careless in the middle of stupid arguments or when you’re so upset you curl in on yourself, but he has never heard your voice like this. He thinks, with more than tiny amount of reluctance, that you sound dead. “I died. Didn’t I?”

He only replies with a low, murmured “yeah”, because what else is there to say, really? You died, he watched you die, and now you’re back. It should be as easy as that, but he supposes nothing is ever truly easy with deals made with devils and demons.

“Minghao.”

He shivers, a wholly involuntary spasm that comes from the painful ache inside his chest; for a while he thought he’d never hear his own name from your lips ever again. And it might not be the same, not right now when you’re still coming back to life, still numb from being fucking dead for six months, but it makes him shiver nonetheless, and his hands grip tighter around the steering wheel.

“Minghao,” you repeat when he remains unresponsive. “what did you do?”

Out of all the demons Minghao has ever had the displeasure of conversing with, Hoseok might have been the one that intimidated him both the most and the least. Had it not been for the glowing, red eyes possessed by all crossroad demons, and the strange hollow echo in his voice, Minghao might’ve thought Hoseok to be just any old schmoe, but the sleek, black suit was unmistakable, and the buried box containing graveyard dirt, cat bones and a picture of Minghao himself did manage to set the mood, so to speak.

“Missing the old ball and chain, are you?” Hoseok had asked, no prompt or explanation needed. This didn’t surprise Minghao; in your short lifespan you had managed to make quite the name for yourself in the underworld, but his muscles twitched and tingled even so, angered by the casual with which the demon spoke of you, how lightly your death was mentioned. Behind him, Seungkwan had cleared his throat, bringing him back and chaining him in. They all knew the severity of it; there would only be this one chance to make the deal.

“Let’s just skip the chit-chat,” Jeonghan, ever the calm and collected part of the team, spoke up from right behind Minghao, placing a calloused hand on his shoulder. “You obviously know why we’re here.”

“Ah,” Hoseok tutted, head tilted to the side. “But you’re not the one who wants to make a deal, are you? I want to hear him say it.” He pointed at Minghao, stiffly standing in front of the others with his gun in hand. More a precaution than anything else, the bullets would not kill the crossroad demon, but they would slow him down, at the very least.

“Can you do it?�� Minghao asked, mistakenly letting a mixture of hope and doubt seep into his voice. “Can you bring her back?”

The demon scoffed. “Can I? Of course I can. The question is, what can you do for me?”

He said it so low that Minghao could barely hear him over the loud thrums of his heart echoing in his head, nervousness and hope and reluctance fighting for dominance in his stomach. It had taken so long, finding the right crossroad and the right time, discussing back and forth between the team whether or not it was worth it. Minghao remembered, with startling clarity, the repeated promise you had forced him to make while still alive. Never trade your soul to a demon.

“I’m not giving you my soul,” Minghao said.

Hoseok had busted out laughing at that, his voice coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once, echoing in Minghao’s ears and creeping under his skin. Are you,” the demon’s eyes glowed like two small, blood red suns, almost painful to look directly at. “Really at a disposition to be making demands, Minghao?” The way Hoseok had accentuated every syllable of his name sent shivers down Minghao’s spine, despite - or maybe because of - the childlike tint to his voice.

Hoseok tsked, reappearing in the spot right in the middle of the dimly lit crossroads. “I don’t want or need your gross soul,” he waved his hand dismissively. “You humans are so dramatic.”

“What do you want, then?” Seungkwan piped up, and Minghao could easily recognize the impatient, nervous quiver of his friend’s voice. They were all impatient, all tired and grieving and desperate, but Seungkwan never quite learned how to deal the way the others did. Minghao both appreciated and regretted that fact.

For a moment, the only thing to be heard were the sounds of the night; owls hooting and cicadas singing at a volume that would’ve unnerved Minghao had he not already been in the company of one of the most powerful demons in existence.

“You know,” Hoseok broke the silence at last, octaves lower than before and the childish glee all but gone. He had sounded serious then, and the extent of his influence, of his power, had never been clearer. “People are quite pleased with your little girlfriend’s demise downstairs.”

At this point, there wasn’t any doubt that Hoseok’s attention rested solely on Minghao, that the boys behind him was mere background noise to the demon. Somehow, Minghao felt strangely alone.

“A lot of pretty powerful people are gonna be mad when I do this,” the when of it brought a painful thump to Minghao’s chest, and he struggled to keep his expression neutral. “I gotta know I’ll be safe.”

It sounded… fair. More reasonable than Minghao had expected of a demon that, though strictly speaking functioned as nothing more than a deal maker and a soul stealer, resembled a trickster. The group of boys behind him had shuffled. He knew what they were thinking, how they were probably eyeing each other. It sounded too good to be true.

“I can see the wheels turning,” the demon sounded amused. Minghao had thought, at the time, that maybe he had heard the right of it when people spoke of Hoseok, the crossroad demon; a mysterious creature that valued entertainment and chaos over anything, even his own species.

“You’re asking us to kill demons for you?”

Hoseok’s grin widened, tangerine locks bouncing against his pale skin as he nodded. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“And you’ll bring her back? She’ll be…” Because even if the demon could resurrect you, no one really knew at what cost; Minghao was scared to ask, head filled with images of deformity, of brain damage. “She’ll be normal?”

“As normal as one can be after spending half a year in hell, I suppose,” the red-eyed man confirmed. Minghao heard Seungkwan’s breath catch behind him. “Do we have a deal or not? I’m getting bored of this.”

It wasn’t Minghao who confirmed, he didn’t even have the time to open his mouth. Soonyoung stepped up, with an eagerness that would’ve pissed Minghao off had the situation allowed it; the dark haired man never did know how to stay in his fucking lane, always wedging himself in where he was unwanted. “We’re taking the deal. Of course we’re taking the deal. Right?”

“Great,” Hoseok’s eyes lit up as he stepped closer, not stopping until he was a breath away from Minghao’s face. If Minghao wanted to, he could’ve counted the specks of ember in the demon’s eyes, the eyelashes above his eyes. “But you’re the one making the deal.”

The demon put his hands on Minghao’s face, digits firm and cold as death.

“Let’s seal it with a kiss.”

Minghao used to joke that he would pay you to shut up, a thornless barb that resembled his own brand of affection more than anything else. Two hours into checking into the dingy hotel and you still haven’t said a single word after finding out about his deal with the crossroad demon. He thinks you might be angry, but it’s hard to tell with the emotionless, blank expression on your face.

You sit on the bed, still covered in dried mud, and you just stare. At what, Minghao doesn’t know, all he knows is that it hurts to look at you. Somehow, he had imagined everything would just return to normal when he got you back. That he’d hug you and kiss you and his heart would put itself back together. He realizes, belatedly, that he had grossly underestimated the trauma of being brought back from the dead. He can’t even imagine, can’t bring himself to ask what you see behind your lids when you close your eyes.

Hell, Hoseok had said. You sure do look like it.

Minghao feels awkward, like he’s learning how to be around you all over again, and he struggles with the balance of wanting to give you space and the literal, physical yearning to embrace you and never let go. You’re there, just a few feet away, alive and real and breathing, but you’ve never felt so far away.

“You’re angry,” he says at last, watches as your eyes glide over the room once, twice before they fall on him. You look confused for a moment, gaze unfocused and lip caught between your teeth, like you’re struggling to gather your thoughts.

“I’m pretty sure I told you never to make deals with demons,” you tell him, a hint of frustration coating your tone. It’s the closest you’ve sounded to yourself ever since coming back to life, and Minghao can’t help the tiny bubbles of hope that push at the back of his neck despite the steely glint in your eyes.

“I’m pretty sure you said never to sell my soul to a demon,” he retorts, letting some of the petulant annoyance that always surfaces during your arguments seep into his voice. You always did love to argue, even death couldn’t take that away from you.

Your hands grip around the fabric of the blankets you’re sitting on, knuckles white and face tight. “I’m pretty sure it was implied.”

“What was I supposed to do, then?” Minghao is on his feet before he can even register getting up. Anger prickles at his skin, a course, painful lump in his throat. “Just let you stay dead?” You’re on your feet to, then, a bit wobbly and not really at peak intimidation, what with your hair and face coated in dirt you’ve not yet bothered to remove. Your voice is loud, shrill, and Minghao is glad he had the forethought to rent the room farthest away from the desk.

“Yes, Minghao! That’s what you were supposed to do!” The words hit him like a fist in the face. Minghao has been on the receiving end of a lot of shit; of shapeshifters and wendigos and poltergeists. He has a particularly nasty scar on his back from when he had pushed you away from an enraged werewolf that still hurts like a bitch during full moons. But he swears nothing, not even the chimera bite or the aftershocks of the demon possession that almost killed him eight months ago, not even all his shitty encounters combined, hurt even a fraction as much as the words leaving your mouth. “That’s what happens when people die!”

Minghao’s throat closes up, every scathing remark and offensive comeback turning into ashes in his mouth. There’s this secret that Minghao carries around, neatly tucked into his chest and hidden behind a hard, sarcastic exterior. It simmers and grows within him, and if the uncomfortable prickling in his eyes is anything to go by, it’s about to spill.

Minghao is, at the root of things, embarrassingly sensitive and emotional. He can’t even deny, nor does he care to, the way his voice breaks at the syllables. “I can’t. Not with you.”

Minghao always felt pretty confident in the fact that you loved him, but he knew he loved you more. It’s not a competition, you’d tell him, eyes rolling but mouth quirking in a smile nonetheless. He knows it’s not a competition, he’d reply.

(But if it was, he’d win.)

He’d had a hunch even the first time he’d seen you, covered from head to toe in swamp water and selkie blood, that you were something special. Hair sticking to your face and breath labored, with a shotgun aimed directly at his face and a dead creature lying between you in the shallow water, one could say that your first meeting had been somewhat less than pleasant.

Somewhere behind you, a male voice was calling out what Minghao had assumed, but not actually gotten to confirm until much later, was your name. You had just stared, barely even blinking, mouth slightly open and small puffs of air visible as you exhaled.

It wasn’t something as silly as ‘love at first sight’, but Minghao would be a fool to deny the rumbling, warm feeling in his stomach.

“What the-” a blond man with a fair face appeared behind you, making both you and Minghao jump. “You shot the selkie? Are you insane?”

You’d lowered the shotgun, then, turning to the man with an annoyed knit of your eyebrows. With your free hand, you wiped at your face, trying - and failing - to rid yourself of some of the slimy liquid. The man scoffed. “You look like an absolute madwoman.”

“I swear, Seungkwan,” you rumbled, voice low and dangerous. Even if it wasn’t directed at him, Minghao felt a shiver tingle along his spine. “What the fuck was I gonna do? She was about to chew his face off.” You gestured towards Minghao, acknowledging his existence for the first time, and the man - Seungkwan, Minghao assumed - turned his head to look at him.

He must’ve looked quite the sight himself, Minghao remembered thinking; half-sitting, half-lying in the swamp water and completely drenched himself after the struggle with the crazy sea creature. He hadn’t even known of it’s existence, only entering the area because of the rumors of a ‘swamp monster’. Though, in retrospect, the encounter was a lucky one, even if his favorite shirt was utterly ruined.

Seungkwan, immaculate and statuesque in comparison to Minghao’s own disheveled appearance, did not look impressed. He hmm’ed, arms crossed and lips pursed. “And who’s this little mermaid, then?”

Minghao decided he did not like Seungkwan.

“No idea,” You’d answered, as if Minghao wasn’t even there. “He was mud-wrestling the selkie when I found them.”

“Tantalizing imagery, that,” Seungkwan murmured. “Is he gonna pay the bounty, too? A lot of cash was riding on this.”

Minghao realized, then, who the two of you are. There aren’t a lack of bounty hunters out there, not when the world is such a big and scary place filled with threats that are both human and supernatural. But there aren’t many good or particularly well-known ones; veteran hunters who knows not to let greed lead them.

Soonyoung had been gushing over it for months, over the duo who seemingly popped out of nowhere and took on any task if the pay was good enough. A girl and a boy, he’d said, about our age. It was apparent, looking at the two of you bickering over money and dead selkies, that you were the duo Soonyoung was talking about.

Minghao had thought, at the time, that you were both kind of overrated. You were a clean shot, sure, and undeniably attractive, but Seungkwan managed to grate on him more in five minutes than three years of Soonyoung’s sleep talking and snoring ever had. When the two of you had excused yourselves, bickering even as you did, Minghao had felt nothing but a frown pull at his features, annoyance over his drenched disposition and ripped clothes the most prevalent feeling in his chest.

He still couldn’t quite stop thinking about the look on your face, about the gleam in your eyes and the slight redness to your cheeks, as you stood in front of him with a gun aimed right at his head.

He tried not to dwell on that.

The first breakdown comes as you’re about to take a bath. Neither of you able to stand the awkwardness and the prolonged silences anymore, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, murmuring humorlessly about how you smell like death. Minghao would’ve appreciated the joke had he not been painfully aware that it’s not meant as one.

When he’s alone in the room, listening to the running water from the bath, Minghao feels as if he’s finally able to breathe again. He looks around the small hotel room, at the stains and dirty clothes and the bag of equipment he had gotten from Joshua; bottles of water and easily digestible food, hot packs and painkillers. No one really had known what to expect when you came back to life, but at least the older man had had some forethought to be thorough.

Minghao, on the other hand, feels useless. All he’d really done was put his picture in a box and made a deal with a demon, and even that task could’ve easily be given to someone else. Post-resurrection, all he seemed to do was agitate you.

As if on cue, he hears a loud bang and a string of pretty imaginative curses coming from the bathroom. Minghao is on his feet and at the door before he can even stop to think about propriety or privacy, heart high in his throat.

You’re still fully clothed, bag of belongings thrown across the tiny room and items scattered all over the floor. The water is running in the bath, but you seem to have forgotten to put the plug in, the water just rushing down the drain instead. The look on your face is perhaps the most emotive you’ve been since coming back to life; something akin to frustration and anger making your eyes wet.

Minghao feels his heart breaking for perhaps the thousandth time in six months.

“I can’t,” you begin, voice cracking and fingers struggling with the buttons on your shirt. Over the course of your relationship, Minghao thinks you’ve both seen each other in some pretty vulnerable situations, but you’ve never looked as helpless and humiliated as you do right now; fingers shivering and shoulders slumped. “I can’t get my fucking clothes off.”

Minghao swallows, glances around the room once, twice, wills his still stressed heart to calm down. “Okay,” he says, once he’s sure he can properly speak without biting his tongue off. “That’s fine. Normal. Joshua said so, remember? Inactivity and all that.” Minghao’s not used to be the attentive one, the one who has to speak softly and reassure without barbs of irony or sarcasm casually thrown in his sentences. He feels awkward, fumbling for words and uncomfortably aware of every movement his body makes.

“I know what Joshua said,” you snap back, voice on the verge of poisonous, but Minghao pays it no mind. “That doesn’t exactly help right now.” You pull at your shirt as if it’s stuck to your skin, as if it itches and hurts to wear.

Inhaling through his nose and counting to three in his head, Minghao closes the bathroom door and approaches you almost like one would a scared animal. If you notice the hesitance in his steps, you do not point it out. “You’ll be fine, you just need… rehabilitation,” he grimaces at the word, at the clinical, cynical way of putting it. “I’ll help you, okay?”

He pretends not to hear the sob, knows how much you hate to cry in front of him, and his fingers feel too long, too big when he starts unbuttoning your shirt.

It’s obviously not the first time he’s undressed you, but it’s the first time the moment feels so fragile, the atmosphere so heavy. He can’t even look at you; gaze zeroing in on each of the buttons instead, ignoring how visible your rib cage is beneath the once soft fabric of the flannel and how your collarbones stick out above your chest.

He thumbs gently over your hip bones as he pulls down your jeans, does not miss your sharp inhale or the goosebumps under his fingertips, but his voice seems to have left him, and all he can do is look at you.

You look like a ghost, like one of the zombies he had put a bullet in ages ago, barely even a remnant of the person he used to whisper declarations of love to in the dark of the night. The thought makes him want to cry, or run away, or cling to you and never let you go; he doesn’t know which of those impulses will win out yet.

“I’ll need help washing, too,” you admit, shame painted onto your face as clearly and visible as the mud in your hair. Minghao just nods, rolls his sleeves up and helps you into the tub.

For a while, there’s just the sound of running water, the occasional hum when Minghao’s hands glides over a particularly sore part of your body or a whimper when he pulls too hard on your hair. The color is returning, at least somewhat, to your face, roses blooming in your cheeks and joints loosening with the help of hot water. It feels so strangely intimate, even if all he’s doing is ridding you of months worth of dirt and grime, scrubbing your back and shampooing your hair, Minghao feels like he’s the one on display.

“It’s not just my body,” you mutter, once you’re clean of mud and your hair unknotted. “It’s my mind, too.” You make eye contact with him when you say this, and even then he knows what you’re talking about. He sees it in your eyes, how the color seems faded, somehow, how your face looks devoid of emotion. “Like, I know, In the back of my mind, that I love you, but I don’t feel anything.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, not without breaking down, at least, so Minghao says nothing. He blinks rapidly, willing away the unbidden tears that prickle at his eyes with the knowledge that his lover cannot feel love for him anymore. Above everything else, Minghao feels guilty. Your words ring in his eyes; was he really supposed to let you go? Would it have been better, less selfish, to just let you rest? His chest tightens.

So lost is he, in his own thoughts, that he doesn’t notice you’re talking to him again until you take his hand in your own. Your fingers feel bony around his hand, and his mind just spirals. “If you think any harder you’re gonna hurt yourself,” you murmur, thumb pressing lightly into his skin. It’s the first sort of contact you’ve initiated, he realizes.

“I was too harsh on you,” you continue, voice subdued. He doesn’t immediately know what you’re talking about, so he just gazes at you, at your intertwined fingers. “If anyone had taken you from me, not even the hell hounds or the four horsemen of the apocalypse could have kept me from finding you. I might not feel it right now, but I know it.”

And it’s those words, the conviction with which you say it, that breaks Minghao. He leans his head against your bare shoulder, lets you comb your fingers through his hair, and Minghao cries. He cries for the first time since you died, since you came back. He cries without inhibition, so loudly and freely that the sounds bounce against the acoustics of the tiny hotel bathroom, and when the two of you finally go to bed, still weird and uncertain with each other and occupying the opposite ends of the queen sized bed, Minghao feels a bit better.

He dreams of fire, of screams and black shadows and yellow eyes staring at him. He dreams of you, of pain and fear and the smell of sulfur and death. It’s a familiar dream, one that’s haunted his sleeping hours for the last six months and when the loud bang of a gunshot echoes in his head, he knows what’s coming. He runs towards you, fighting through what feels like a horde of wraiths to do so, but when he finally reaches you, he finds the same gruesome image as he always does these nights;

Seungkwan on his knees, hands clasped tightly over his mouth, incoherent words and course inhales spilling between his fingers. There’s a silver gun at his side and a bleeding body in front of him. Your fingers are coated in your own blood, reaching, reaching and - falling limply a hair’s breadth away from your childhood best friend’s hyperventilating frame.

Time stops. Minghao wakes up, coated in sweat.

He feels as if he’s carrying someone else’s weight along with his own, and when his head finally wakes up enough to take notice of his surroundings, he feels the distinct sensation of someone’s breath against his neck. He tilts his head, and there you are. Sleeping soundly with your chin against his shoulder, arm slung over his stomach and fingers sprawled against his hip, one leg tangled with his own. His arm is asleep under your weight, but Minghao barely even notices, too transfixed by the smooth lines of your face.

It’s the most like yourself you’ve looked since you resurrected, and even if you must’ve just crept closer in your sleep, body seeking heat, Minghao’s heart swells. He indulges in the feeling, turning to his side so he can see you better, his free hand skating gently over your jawline. He leans his forehead against yours, breathes in easy for the first time in forever.

When he falls asleep again, his mind is free of nightmares.

Soonyoung calls the very next day, just as you’re finished forcing a bowl of porridge down your dry throat. For a moment, Minghao seriously considers not taking the call, wanting nothing more than to just enjoy a few moments of normalcy with you. The frown on his face as he puts the phone to his ears must be more noticeable than he thought, because you level him with a scrutinizing glare. He ignores it.

“What?” he snaps to his friend, not bothering with pleasantries. Needless to say, his relationship with the man he once saw as his closest friend and confidante has been, in simple terms, strained, after your death. The night when Minghao almost broke Soonyoung’s nose notwithstanding, the boys have not spoken one-on-one in months.

Soonyoung replies in kind, opting for getting right to the chase. “How is she?”

Minghao looks at you, takes a moment to observe as you experimentally bend your arms and practice your fingers by buttoning and unbuttoning one of his shirts. Only when Soonyoung says his name into the phone does Minghao remember that he was asked a question. “Just dandy,” he replies.

The man on the other end of the line hums. “Good enough to go out?”

“Soonyoung, this is really not-”

“I’m not asking for myself,” Soonyoung cuts him off, and not for the first time Minghao envies how easily the other man speaks his mind. “Hoseok contacted me. He wants to meet her. Has some information, he says.”

Minghao’s frown deepens. He knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid the crossroad demon forever, they were sort of in his debt, after all, but he’d hoped you’d at least get to be back with the living long enough to re-stabilize before having to fraternize with demons. “What information?”

The other end is silent for a tad too long, and Minghao has to glance at the screen to make sure Soonyoung hasn’t hung up on him.

“About that night,” he says at last, voice so low Minghao barely hears him. “About whatever possessed Seungkwan.”

And, well, that catches Minghao’s interest.

“No,” was the first thing Minghao heard upon entering the diner, a mere two months after his run-in with an angry selkie and two famous bounty hunters. And two months it might’ve been, but Minghao could’ve recognized that shrill, sophisticated male voice anywhere. “We’re not even stepping into that house.”

“Seungkwan,” a second, just as familiar voice, hissed, and when Minghao craned his neck to look around the almost empty diner, he spotted you with ease. Less messy, this time, hair free of blood and clothes in almost pristine condition. Your fingers wrapped around the straw to your drink, swirling it around in a fashion that can only be described as aggressive. “It’s a lot of money.”

Minghao ended up just standing there, debating whether to turn around and leave or eavesdrop further. He watched as Seungkwan leaned over, voice low, and he heard, without mistake, the word poltergeist.

He had the time for a burger, Minghao decided.

With confident steps and a lot more gusto than he really possessed, Minghao strode over to your booth, stopping in front of the both of you. He hoped he looked more intimidating than he felt.

He was pleased to see the flash of recognition in your eyes, for a moment indulging in the thought that maybe you had found him as difficult to forget as he had you. Seungkwan, on the other hand just looked bored. “What? We’ve already ordered.”

Just as soon as the word left the blond’s mouth, he jumped, an exclamation of pain falling ungraciously out of his mouth. If the look of absolute disdain he shot you was anything to go by, you’d just kicked him under the table. “You ass,” you hissed. “It’s the selkie dude. From two months ago.”

“My point still stands,” Seungkwan muttered.

Minghao cleared his throat. “You were talking about a poltergeist.”

The two of you had looked at each other, then, seemingly sharing some private, telepathic sort of conversation, and Minghao felt oddly out of place. Seungkwan opened his mouth, probably, Minghao thought, to argue, but you beat him to it.

“That’s right. You want in?” It was strangely direct, not exactly what Minghao had expected, and for a moment he could only stare at you. You stared right back, sucking on your straw.

“Right,” he replied after collecting his thoughts, only to be interrupted by Seungkwan hissing your name.

”I said we’re not doing that,” he whispered, as if Minghao wasn’t meant to hear. Minghao found it strange that these supposedly professional hunters were so scared of a single poltergeist. Sure, they weren’t the most pleasant things to deal with, but judging by Seungkwan’s white-knuckled fist, there was more than just a reluctance of work there. “It’s too dangerous.”

”See, that’s why this is perfect,” you’d countered, throwing your hand out to gesture at Minghao. “I’ll take selkie-boy here with me, and you stay snug under your blankie at the hotel. Everyone’s happy.” You paused. “Well, except for the poltergeist, I suppose.”

Seungkwan, though reluctant, sighed, bent down to rummage through his backpack. A sign of defeat, Minghao imagined, seeing the look of glee on your face. You scooted further in, patted the now vacant spot next to you. Minghao took a seat, pretended his arm didn’t tingle where it came into contact with your own.

”Have you ever exorcised a poltergeist before?” Seungkwan asked, pulling out a torn, old notebook. It looked like something straight out of a horror movie, like a book of curses passed down through generations, and Minghao might’ve laughed if he didn’t think he’d get kicked for it. “Who- who even are you?” He asked, as if he just realized they had not given each other their names yet, even as they were discussing exorcisms and ghosts.

”Minghao,” he replied quickly, not bothering to ask for names in return. It seemed like an empty gesture, he already had your name memorized. “And yes. A couple.” He glanced sideways, instantly locking eyes with you. You had your chin balanced in your palm, elbow on the table, eyes gleaming as they observed him intently.

”Then you know the basics,” Seungkwan continued, fingers flipping over the pages in his little book at a rapid speed. He sounded like a completely different person, now, concentrated and with intent basically dripping from the syllables. “They’re mostly harmless. Pranksters. Making floors creak and furniture move and all that shit.” Minghao nodded along. It had been a while since he had worked with anyone, ever since Soonyoung returned home to attend a funeral and subsequently went MIA Minghao had been working alone. His spine tingled.

“This one’s a bit more vicious,” you went on, eyes on the book. “Which is what has got Seungkwan’s panties in such a twist.”

“My panties are not twisted! This thing is fucking twisted!” Seungkwan interjected. You made an elaborate and over the top pout. Your lips looked soft.

”Anyways,” Seungkwan cleared his throat. “There have been several incidents over the last couple years, most of them are written down here.” He finally stopped flipping pages, turning the book around to allow Minghao to read the contents of the page. Neatly written notes, all containing information on this supposed poltergeist, seemingly pretty new. Most hunters had their own collection of notes about different creatures and monsters, but Minghao had to hand it to Seungkwan; he was thorough.

“If this goddamned poltergeist kills you,” Seungkwan turns his attention to you, pointing a long, thin finger in your direction. Minghao barely pays attention to the conversation, too busy scanning over the notes in front of him. “I will fucking murder you.” You laughed. Minghao’s ears turned red.

The poltergeist did not, in fact, kill you. Or Minghao, for that matter, but then that didn’t seem to be Seungkwan’s priority. It did, however, turn out to be more a pain than either you or Minghao had expected, and when you finally collect your bounty, you look utterly knocked out.

That didn’t stop you from making Minghao join you at the local pub for celebratory drinks after a job well done.

”Seungkwan doesn’t get to join,” you’d said, a smile toying with the edges of your lips. “No labor, no drinks.”

You told him why Seungkwan was so freaked out by a mere poltergeist; turns out his family comes from a long line of psychics. Which, with all the perks Minghao had always imagined psychics to have; telepathy, communicating with spirits and easier exorcisms, also came with quite the downside - they were deeply connected to the other world, and much easier to possess.

”We had a run-in with a nasty spirit last year,” you explained, pulling down the the neck of your sweater to show Minghao a gruesome scar across your shoulder blade. “He’s refused to work with spirits ever since.”

Minghao supposed there was more to people than meets the eye.

The rest of the night would remain a blur to him, but he thinks it must have been the alcohol coursing through his system that had urged him to place his hands on your hips, pushing you against the cold concrete of the alley you’d snuck off to and pressing his lips against yours.

He wouldn’t remember much in the morning, but not even a blow to the head could make him forget the soft moan from your mouth when he pressed against you, licked at your lips, your teeth grazing his bottom lip. He swore he could feel the remnants of your fingers in his hair even days later.

It might not have been love at first sight, but -

it was pretty damn close.

"You and Soonyoung have gotten worse,” you suddenly observe, as the two of you are driving to the crossroad where Hoseok resides. It’s a long ride, and not one Minghao wants to spend talking about Soonyoung. He exhales sharply through his nose. You toy with the hem of the sweater - Minghao’s sweater - you’re wearing.

“Things have been… tense.. these last six months,” he responds vaguely, keeping his eyes on the road. You scoff.

“You’ve been tense for ages. That was something else.”

Minghao chews on his bottom lip. “We had some disagreements after you died, I don’t really want to talk about it.” It’s the most genuine thing he can think of to say; just the thoughts brings images of accusations of betrayal, venomous words and almost-fist fights, and in the few moments when Minghao is not pissed off at Soonyoung, he misses his friend.

“Fine,” you relent, moving restlessly in your seat. “Let’s talk about something else, then. Where’s Seungkwan?”

Minghao’s stomach drops. He knew you would ask, because of course you would ask about Seungkwan. But he doesn’t know how much you know, what you remember from dying, and he certainly does not know what to say about your best friend.

You feel that reluctance, he thinks, because your voice is hard when you speak again. “Minghao. Where’s Seungkwan?”

Minghao clears his throat. “What do you remember from-” he halts, something dark and painful blocking his throat. He hates this, hates asking you about it. He knew he’d have to, at some point, but it seems like time really is not on his side. “From that night?” he finishes.

For a moment, only the sound of the engine fills Minghao’s ears. He glances over at you, finding you staring wistfully out the side window. Your lips are just a grim line, your eyebrows knit together, hands grasping at each other in your lap. It’s an automatic impulse when he reaches over to take your hand, but he’s happy to see that your own actions seem to be automatic as well, taking both of your own hands and enveloping his in them.

“He knows it’s not his fault, right?” your voice is quiet, a complete contrast to the vice-like grip you have on his hand, and Minghao supposes that’s a good an answer as any.

“He didn’t take it well,” he admits, thinking about a pretty, blond boy with an aristocratic face, a man who always found the time for snappy comebacks and awful jokes. Minghao doesn’t think, even with your resurrection, that Seungkwan will ever be the same person again.

“Doesn’t he want to see me?” you mutter, for the first time letting insecurity coat your voice. Minghao knows you’re self-conscious, that the whole thing terrifies you. He’s seen the way you look at yourself in the mirror sometimes, as if you’re scared you’ll fall apart or worms will start crawling out of your ears. He squeezes your hand.

“He loves you. Of course he wants to see you. He’s not sure you want to see him.”

You sigh, a tired sound, and close your eyes and lean your head against the window. “Let’s just get this meeting over with. I want to go home.”

Minghao could not agree more.

You’re both faced with the crossroad demon an hour later, the sun setting in the distance and coating the road in orange-red light that reflects prettily in the demon’s hair. He’d look almost ethereal, Minghao thinks, if he wasn’t so sinister.

The demon tilts his head, scans you up and down a few times with a pondering hum. Minghao steps closer, fingers itching to grab onto you.

“So,” Hoseok muses, a finger coming up to stroke his chin thoughtfully. “This is what has the whole underworld quaking in their boots? I can’t say I get it.”

You shrug your shoulders, putting on a face of pure disinterest. You never did have much tolerance for demons, especially not the ones who took on human hosts. “I can’t say I do either.”

Hoseok chuckles. “At least she’s spunky,” he says. “I like that.” He takes a step closer, and Minghao takes a protective step on his own to stand in front of you. The demon laughs, waves a long hand in your direction. “Come on,” he says. “As if I would’ve exhausted my abilities and angered the underworld just to hurt her now. You’re both safe here. For now.”

“We were told you had information for us,” you press a hand against Minghao’s arm, both a reassuring gesture, and a show of confidence; a subtle way of letting Hoseok know that you don’t need protection. It’s a pointless gesture, Minghao thinks, you have his protection whether you want it or not, but he lets it slide. “I’m sure you want something for it.”

“Your boys have been quite resolute in their keeping of their promise to me,” the demon hums, hands in his pockets. “As such, this one’s on me.”

He looks up at the darkening sky. “Have you ever heard of the creatures called rakshasa?”

Minghao has not, surprisingly enough, but the way you stiffen besides him tells him you have. He thinks about the small, leather notebook stuffed into a backpack, about elegant fingers flipping through pages at an alarming speed.

“A chaos demon?” You ask, voice this close to trembling. Your grip on Minghao’s arm tightens. “What does that have to do with me?”

Hoseok tsk’s. “A chaos demon, indeed. One that was none too pleased with being mistaken for a simple poltergeist and attempted exorcised.”

It hits you both, it seems, at the same time. The first job you did together, that haunted house in a town long forgotten. Seungkwan’s insistent reluctance and the strange incidents that did not seem like a simple ghost. You look at each other.

“Ah, looks like it rings a bell. Rakshasa are stubborn things, they latch onto hate like vermin,” Hoseok’s voice does not match his words; he sounds irreverent, as if he’s talking about a dear friend rather than a vengeful spirit. “Above all else,” he continues. “They adore the chase. The pain of ripping someone away from their loved ones. And killing his target by the hands of their best friend? Masterful.”

Fear courses through Minghao’s veins. Hoseok has been nothing but pleasant, if a bit creepy, up until now, but Minghao should not have forgotten that they were dealing with a demon. The crossroad demon’s eyes glint, blood red light shining at you both like a laser.

“Good luck with this one,” he says with a bow and a wink. “You’re going to need it.”

The demon disappears with the last few beams of sunlight.

The night you died had been a cold one, air visible as it left your mouths. teeth clattering and bodies shaking. You had been scouting; you, Minghao, Seungkwan and Soonyoung, looking for a group of werewolves that had reportedly disappeared in the area.

It was, for all intents and purposes, a low-risk mission. Recon.

But then the black fog came.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a heavy, dark smog had seeped over you from between the trees, covering the entire area and the sky above you in darkness. Minghao had lost track of you, stretching his arms around and calling your name to no avail. His heart hammered in his chest. He was enveloped in silence, his yells not even creating an echo. For a moment he thought he might have gone blind.

And then he smelled fire.

He didn’t see it at first, the black fog so overwhelmingly dark and thick that it might have even blocked the smell, had it not come from somewhere nearby. He felt it, before he even saw it; hot and scalding on his skin, scorching the hair on his arm and licking at his side. He’d yelped, jumping away from the vicious flames.

That’s when he’d really started to worry.

He found Soonyoung first, nursing a burnt arm not too far from him. It might have been to his left, or maybe directly behind him, Minghao couldn’t be sure. Had he just been fighting with his friend earlier that day? He couldn’t remember. All he knew was that Soonyoung was safe, second degree burns aside, but neither of them could find your or Seungkwan.

The first wraith showed itself by clawing down his back, ribboning both his jacket and the skin on his back, and Minghao had to bite down on his tongue to contain the scream that tore at his throat. He could worry about that later.

He swore he’d been walking for hours, using nothing but his hands and his sense of direction - stunted as it was with the wraiths and the flames and the fog - before he finally heard it; your voice, muted by the thickness of the fuck and the sizzling of flames, but somehow still clear as day in his ears.

“Seungkwan, please,” you’d pleaded, desperation tinting your voice and pain edging your syllables. “Seungkwan. Listen to me. You’re stronger than this.”

Minghao followed your voice, heard it grow stronger, then weaker, then stronger again, cracking and wavering but repeating the same over and over. Seungkwan. Seungkwan. I love you, please come back to me.

A gunshot rung in Minghao’s ears, the familiar sound of the colt you kept on your person at all times, and Minghao can’t breathe.

It happened all at once; the fog lifted and the fire died, the wraiths stopped in their movements to float as yellow-eyed statues in the air. Minghao could see Soonyoung right behind him, covered in soot and ashes and gripping his arm with a grimace on his face.

And he could see Seungkwan in front of him, a ways away, on his knees. His hands were red, covered in blood, pressed against his face and spreading the liquid like war paint across his cheekbones. It took Minghao a moment to see the collapsed figure next to the blond.

It was such a strange moment; that tangible, real moment right before your world shatters and your heart breaks. That one second it takes for your head to catch up with your eyes and you realize that nothing will ever be the same. Minghao was standing behind Seungkwan before he could even register his legs moving. He looked down, observing the way Seungkwan’s shoulders were shaking, how his breaths were labored, course; as if it physically hurt to inhale or exhale.

The sounds were the worst of it, the broken sobs and whimpering, nonsensical words. Minghao could make out your name, a repeated mantra of no no no and please’s and i’m sorry’s but somehow the world seemed to be stuck in slow motion and he could not move.

“Fuck!” he heard from somewhere next to him. Or maybe it was above him, or behind him, or underneath him, Minghao couldn’t tell, couldn’t feel or see or hear anything. “Fuck!” the voice said again, louder this time. Someone gripped his shoulders. “What the fuck happened?!” Soonyoung - because it was Soonyoung, wasn’t it? - sounded as broken as Minghao felt. He wanted to throw up.

Your eyes were glassy, light already gone. A hand stretched out to reach for Seungkwan and the other clasping your chest. Everything was red.

You were gone.

Everything else is kind of a blur. There was a funeral, Minghao thinks, a modest thing attended by your shared friends. How long did it take for Seungkwan to start talking again? A month? Two? Minghao doesn’t remember, can’t find it in him to care.

He stares at photo albums and sleeps on the couch, cannot bear to sleep in the bed the two of you used to share. He works. Minghao works a lot. He hunts vampires and slays demons, but he doesn’t find whatever took you away from him.

He knows this, though; it’s Soonyoung who brings up the idea of resurrection, four months after your death.

“Crossroad demons,” he’d said, as it was the most obvious thing ever. As if Minghao hadn’t considered it ten times, as if he hadn’t already dabbled in failed attempts of blood magic or summoning spells. As if Seungkwan didn’t wander the halls on extra hard days, hoping pathetically that your spirit would somehow show up.

“What about them?” Jeonghan had offered when no one else responded to Soonyoung’s sudden exclamation.

“Don’t bother, Jeonghan,” Minghao had grumbled, tired of Soonyoung’s attempts. “He’s just talking shit. Crossroad demons are liars. They always find loopholes.”

“There’s this particular one,” Soonyoung continued as if Minghao never even spoke up. “He’s done it before. Joshua’s pal.”

They all knew who Soonyoung’s talking about; a young man Joshua introduced them to a few years ago out of nowhere. A pretty boy with a strong jaw and a wide smile, Minghao could not remember his name. But he could remember Joshua’s protective stance, the way he handled his friend like he was a porcelain doll.

“Vernon?” Jeonghan asked, and Minghao hummed. That was his name. Vernon. He didn’t look particularly dead, he thought.

“He was killed by a river spirit five years ago,” Soonyoung explained, hope woven into his voice. “Joshua got him back from a crossroad demon named Hoseok, and he didn’t have to give his soul for it.”

“What did he give, then?” Minghao asked, heart pounding in spite of his skepticism. Minghao wouldn’t trust Soonyoung with deal-making, not even back when they were close friends, but he would trust Joshua.

“Apparently he asks for different things for every deal. It’s worth a shot.”

Three weeks and an abundance of hotels later, Minghao finally succeeds in bringing you home. You’ve made a dozen stops on the way, gathering information and collecting tools for killing a chaos demon. You don’t know much more, honestly, but Minghao has finally managed to teach you how to use weapons again, and you can dress yourself and eat normally, so he counts it as a success.

When you come home, Minghao barely sees you for three days, people running down your doors half the time, and you running around the other half. Soonyoung comes the first day, hugs you too tight and for too long, making Minghao’s skin itch. Jeonghan drops by the same afternoon, offering soothing words and soft touches that seem to calm you more than Minghao has been able to since you came back.

Chan, who had been away from the country for almost a year when he learned about you death, is a mess of tears and loud sobs when he comes to visit. Minghao doesn’t mind, because you laugh as the younger man leaves still in tears two hours later. A true laugh, a bubbly thing that reminds him of tickle fights and lazy Sundays, that reminds him that there’s still hope for the two of you.

You still haven’t talked, not properly, since the bathtub incident. He’s awkward around you, fear of rejection seeping into his pores with each passing day. You seem to be returning to normal, weight returning to normal when you’re finally able eat again, hair more vibrant after Mingyu cuts it for you after returning home. The only thing that’s missing is some sort of acknowledgement that your emotions have returned. They must have, he thinks, because you sometimes absentmindedly clasp his hands or curl up next to him on the couch, but the part of him that’s scared and insecure can’t be sure.

He understands, now, that strong sense of protectiveness that seems to pour out of Joshua around Vernon.

You finally gather the courage to visit Seungkwan on the dawn of the third day. Minghao has asked around, knows that the man is home with the remainder of his family, back in the house he grew up in. You’re scared, Minghao can tell, because you keep procrastinating. He almost has to physically drag you out before you agree to visit your best friend, the man who killed you.

Minghao doesn’t see you at all that day, besides the glimpse he caught through a window when he gets a bit worried and decides to snoop. He finds you and Seungkwan in the garden of his home, both asleep on the lawn, hands entwined. He had forgotten, he realizes, what Seungkwan’s face looked like without grief etched into his features.

He lets you sleep, lets you enjoy the moment of piece. You’ve both deserved it.

The question comes on the fourth day home; a month after your resurrection.

”Minghao,” you murmur from the bed, when you’re about to go to sleep that evening. He’s standing by the closet, t-shirt in his hand, and he turns to look at you when he hears his name. You look unsure, sort of, as if you’re afraid to say what you intended to.

”What?” he urges, voice carefully blank. You exhale through your nose, Minghao can see you swallow nervously.

”Do you think I’m repulsive?”

Out of all the things Minghao could’ve imagined you would say, that might’ve been the last. For a moment he just stares, eyes wide and unblinking, as you twist the fabric of the blanket around your fingers nervously, avoids eye contact. The words fall out of his mouth before he can even think to stop them.

”What the fuck?”

You frown, knuckles turning white, and it seems like you have to work against quite a bit of reluctance to get the next words out of your mouth. “You haven’t kissed me once since I came back.”

You don’t have to tell him that; Minghao’s basically been counting the days, staring at your lips and struggled against the want to kiss you, or hug you, or pull you into him when you sleep at night. But -

”You said you didn’t-”

”I know what I said,” you cut him off, some of the usual spike returning to your voice. “Do you know what I’m saying now?” You emphasize every word, staring him right in the eyes. Minghao drops the t-shirt he’s holding, takes a few long steps until he’s right next to you and you have to look up to keep eye contact with him.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper. You shiver in response, hands gripping the sheets. Minghao’s fingers twitch.

“Do you want to kiss me?” You echo, and it becomes apparent for Minghao that you’ve been just as unsure as him. He doesn’t understand why, would have teased you for it if he hadn’t been literally seconds away from combusting on the spot. Instead, he gives in, decides to give you the answer you seem to need to hear.

“Every second of every goddamned day.”

Your mouth twitches, and you pause for a moment. “Even if I was dead a month ago?”

Minghao feels dumb, then, because it’s so obvious in retrospect. The way you’re always obsessively looking at yourself in the mirror and spraying yourself with perfumes, brushing your teeth at odd hours of the day. All this time he’s been worrying about you not loving him anymore, and you’ve been worried about whether or not he finds you attractive anymore.

“Even if you’d been dead yesterday I’d still want to kiss you,” he mutters, and it’s the weirdest compliment he’s ever given. You must think it’s strange as well, because you laugh at that. A full, body shaking, thigh-slapping laugh, such a pure and beautiful sound that Minghao wants to swallow it.

So he does. He leans down until he can grab your face and press his lips against yours. A second before he does, he thinks he should take it slow, let you set the speed, but as soon as he feels the soft plumpness of your lips on his own, he’s lost. Seven months of yearning, of dreaming and missing and fantasizing spills into the kiss, and he can’t be sure if you pull him into the bed or if he merely just falls into it out of sheer need to be close to you.

Whatever the case, you catch him; wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him into you, nails digging into his skin and teeth possessively biting into his lip. There’s nothing gentle about it, not about the way his hands glide over your body or about the way you press your pelvis against his, making him groan. It’s a mess of arms and legs and heavy breaths along hot skin, teeth against the pulse in your neck, long fingers pulling at his hair, and when you finally stop to breathe, your lips are swollen and red.

You take his hand, place it in between your breasts, right over your heart. He feels the beats, so fast they’re almost irregular, thumping against the palm of his hand and vibrating through his arm. They echo the strong, rapid beats of his own heart hammering against his ribs, and for some reason that makes him want to cry.

“I love you,” you murmur, your hands squeezing his. He thinks he might feel your heart speed up a notch. “I love you so, so much. I can’t believe you got me back.”

Because you truly are back, he understands, as he feels the rhythm of your heart. You’re alive and well, lying next to him in the bed you picked out together, declaring a love that comes not only from knowledge of it’s existence, but the actual emotion itself.

Minghao feels like he might burst.

His next kiss is a much slower one. “I love you,” he says, whispered words against your lips. “Not even the four horsemen of the apocalypse could keep me from getting you back.”

There’s still a demon to slay, Minghao knows, and they are nowhere near in the clear yet. But as you sleep next to him, breathing lightly against his skin, Minghao feels confident. If not even death could keep the two of you apart, the demon has no fucking chance.

Minghao falls asleep, and he has no nightmares.

#svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #the8 x reader #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios

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cookinguptales · 22 days

Text

Okay so now that I've had some time to digest and think about Late Night with the Devil, some thoughts.

Sorry in advance, this got really, REALLY long as I rambled about all-male secret societies, who and what was possessing whom throughout this movie, literal and metaphorical hauntings, how fame and fortune tempt us all to give up our humanity, and uh. Family youtubers.

I really enjoyed the film, but I do have to wonder, to start with, if other people will get all the allusions...? I didn't think about it until later when I was reading confused posts by other viewers, but I guess the film does kind of predicate on a lot of somewhat arcane knowledge. Like you can understand what's going on without it, but I do think you get a lot more enjoyment out of it if you have a good working understanding of, like, the Satanic Panic of the 70s, the parapsychology/esper craze, James Randi's whole thing, Anton LaVey, Waco, late night hosts like Johnny Carson, and of course the Bohemian Grove.

The Bohemian Grove is kind of... like, obviously a lot of the people making up conspiracy theories about that recently are alt-right assholes (see: Alex Jones), but it is very much a real thing. It's kind of a modern Masonic situation, imo, where you get these big groups of rich, influential men together and they do silly, juvenile vaguely pagan frat boy shit. It's edgelord stuff. But because they are secretive and they are powerful, people come up with all of these conspiracy theories about them.

(I mean lbr that's kind of the history of the occult in general, isn't it? lmao. People ask me if I was afraid when I was studying secret societies and occultism and it's like -- no, these were by and large just rich assholes fighting over headcanons about rituals that they made up based off of deeply faulty scholarship. But I digress.)

The fact of the matter, though, is even if the actual rituals and stuff are kind of silly, the main focus is really rich, powerful men meeting up with other rich, powerful men and networking like crazy. It does keep the rich rich, the powerful powerful, and political resources focused on men. Like the Masons, women aren't allowed in the Bohemian Grove -- and women in politics have bitterly criticized the way that they're being excluded from this kind of networking.

(God, it's so fratty. It's so fucking fratty.)

So in that respect, it is kind of something to be feared.

And... I do think you see that aspect of it reflected in Late Night with the Devil. The consolidation of power, the networking with shitty people, and the way that women are "sacrificed."

[massive spoilers for the entire film to follow!]

I do think I want to see this movie again to firm up some of my ideas, because I suspect that there are a lot of details that I missed the first time I watched this. (And I really should have watched the open captioned version of this; I couldn't understand a lot of what the demon was saying, rip.) But here are some initial thoughts.

The heart of this, obviously, is the demonic presence at the Grove and the way that men go there to sell their soul for power. In a very literal sense, that's what's happening in this film and it's what happened to Jack Delroy. He made a deal with a demon for fame, and that demon ended up taking everything from him to achieve that.

But... metaphorically speaking, it seems clear that Jack Delroy was very willing to make human sacrifices in his day-to-day life. He may have literally (and I think accidentally) sacrificed his wife's life to a demon at the Grove, but he very consciously and willingly sacrificed her for fame when she was alive, too. I mean... imagine having a spouse who is actively dying of cancer and making her make an appearance on your show two weeks before she passes. For ratings. Imagine how much it must have physically taxed her. Imagine how difficult it must have been for them both emotionally. It even could have hastened her death. But he was still willing to do all that for views. He sacrificed his wife, his home life, and his overall privacy for views.

(Family youtubers, anyone? 🙃)

He's also willing to sacrifice his girlfriend, his crew, his audience, and a little girl for ratings. Gus, his voice of reason. He was willing to humiliate him onstage and wouldn't let him go home when he was scared. His audience, whose trauma he was entirely willing to capitalize on through Christou's act. His gf, who I'd argue was probably using Lilly as well, was totally thrown to the wolves when he realized it'd make good television.

Like -- yes, there were supernatural forces at play. Supernatural forces claimed these lives. But Jack sure as shit wasn't being very careful with them, and these supernatural sacrifices always, always mirrored his mundane ones.

(I mean... he performed a human sacrifice of a little girl on national television while in a hallucination about using the sacrificial dagger on his dying wife. It wasn't subtle. lmao)

Moreover, the producers of the show were also very willing to put people in harm's way and capitalize on tragedy for ratings. So... there's a really unsubtle message here about fame and capitalism and the way it tempts you to sacrifice your humanity to get ahead.

(MAYBE LIKE UNDERMINING YOUR ARTISTIC INTEGRITY BY USING AI INSTEAD OF HIRING ARTISTS, IDK)

I'd in fact argue that pretty much everyone who got on that stage that night sacrificed their humanity a bit for fame, with the possible exception of Gus. Gus was the voice of reason, but I mean... he was still there. Maybe a message about how once you get in, you can't get out. :(

But yeah, Jack's obvious, but also Christou, who was willing to use people's trauma for fame. June, who was willing to use a little girl's incredible trauma to advertise for her new book. Carmichael, who got off on humiliating people just to make himself seem smart.

Like... they all started with a kernel of something good (wanting to help the grieving, wanting to help traumatized children, wanting to stop charlatans) but in the end, show biz turned all those urges into the most amoral, selfish, and cruel versions of themselves.

And all of those people crumbled when they were confronted with something real.

(Side note, our theater was in hysterics when Carmichael tried to offer the demon the check. lmao)

Truthfully, it felt like all of them had made their own individual deals with the devil years ago. Halloween 1977 was just the devil finally coming to take his due.

That's the main message of the movie, I think, but there are still some smaller details I want to talk about.

The Grove itself was an obvious allusion to the Bohemian Grove, which is a secret society of powerful men who meet amongst the redwoods in Northern California. Their mascot has always been an owl, which is why you repeatedly see the owl motif throughout the movie. (Happy Owl-ween, the owl mask, etc.)

Abrasax makes sense as a demon to choose (the strong historical associations with magic and demonology, the reoccurrences in many world religions (and occult groups), the role in Gnosticism, etc.) but there seem to be vibes of Stolas, an owl deity who communicates arcane knowledge to humans in exchange for their souls, as well. I noticed a lot of little allusions to Abrasax throughout the film even before Lilly started manifesting, like the movie being shown after the show being about Abrasax.

Lilly... She was rescued from a cult that seems to be a hybrid of Anton LaVey's Church of Satan and the Branch Davidians who died during a siege by the US government in Waco, TX. (Like the cultists in the movie, their compound caught fire when they were being raided. IRL, it's unclear whether the fire was started as a suicide cult situation or if it was started by the actions of the government as they tried to flush people out.) In this cult, girls were sacrificed at age 13, and all who witnessed that sacrifice would fall under the control of Abrasax.

So... she was rescued at age 10. Three years have passed. So she is now 13, the age at which these girls were sacrificed. She was due, in other words. Who and what was possessing her... that's the question, I guess. Demons, historically speaking, were known to speak foreign languages, speak in the voice of other humans, have psychic knowledge their hosts shouldn't know, etc. So she did exhibit symptoms like that.

I think... there are a couple of options here. There's Abrasax specifically, there's June's theory that she was possessed by a minor demon, and there's Minnie. Or a combination of the three.

It's pretty clear that Minnie's presence is felt throughout the whole taping. You can see her reflection various times throughout the movie, she manifested through Christou, and obviously you see her in the tape playback.

(And when I say my theater YELLED. lmao)

The question is, though... Is it really Minnie? And if it is, what does she want? Has she been haunting Jack all along? Is she there because, as it's the first Halloween after her death, it's her last chance to deal with her unfinished business? Did the demon allow her to manifest? Or was the whole thing an illusion created by the demon all along?

(I'd like to note here that, historically speaking, there was a theory that ghosts aren't actually real. They're actually demons masquerading as the spirits of departed loved ones, and they want you to summon them and listen to them so they can tempt you away from God. You can read this in the writings of a lot of the ancient Christian theologians. Or you could have talked to my grandmother, who also told me this when I was a kid! :') But she's dead now so I guess you'd have to do a summoning and find out for yourself.)

All that said... I come down between two current theories. I'd have to watch it again to firm up my ideas.

The first theory is that she's been trapped on earth for the past year, but because it's Halloween, she can haunt them. They mention at the beginning of the film that Halloween is a recent spirit's last chance to take care of unfinished business. So this could have been the case with Minnie. That said... what exactly was her unfinished business? Was she trying to protect Jack and the others? Or hurt them? Was she angry, or was she just, as Christou said, sad? Was her "an unmarried man wearing a wedding ring" referring to the way that Jack was grieving her and still wearing his ring, or the way that he wasn't much of a husband to her when she was alive?

The second theory is that, when she was sacrificed to Abrasax, she became a part of that legion. She was, like Lilly and the other little girls, essentially raised to be sacrificed, and once she was, she joined everyone else who is under the control of the deity. It's still hard to sense whether she was trying to help or hurt throughout the broadcast, but it explains her presence (she came with Lilly, not Jack) and how she was used during Jack's hallucinations to ultimately get him to perform the sacrifice on Lilly, thus bringing all audience members (both in the studio and at home) under Abrasax's control.

Either way, Minnie, in this film, is literal ghost haunting the stage -- but also a metaphorical one. The ghost of all of Jack's past misdeeds and the humanity he's sacrificed to get ahead. She's guilt and she's shame and she's desperate grief, and I guess it's no wonder that the negativity surrounding her was enough to kill Christou when he touched it.

I do think it's fascinating that all of the women in this movie are, in a very real and physical sense, sacrificed for the aspirations of men. (The little girls are sacrificed, Minnie died of a mysterious cancer, June dies because Jack pushed for her to stay, etc.) But metaphorically speaking that seems to be the case as well. They're constantly expected to put their own comfort and safety aside for the men in their lives, and their own aspirations are consumed by the men's.

Like I said, it feels very telling that women aren't allowed at the Grove. Women are constantly being denied power in this movie (or are only allowed power when it's in service to a male costar/deity) and it's largely because they just don't have the connections that the men do. The deals were made while they weren't in the room, essentially.

I'm not sure if that was a conscious choice being made, but it does seem to dovetail nicely with the strong, strong sexism and male privilege present in real-life secret societies of powerful men that disallow women. Like June only getting to shill for her book because Jack let her, women are only allowed at the real-life Bohemian Grove in very limited areas -- and only as a male member's guest.

Um... back to Lilly, though. What the hell is possessing her? She speaks as Minnie a few times, but that could be because Minnie is a part of their legion or just because she's trying to freak out Jack. Demons are known to lie using the voices of loved ones. Minnie's presence could have been influencing her, but I definitely don't think that's all that was in there.

The question, really, seems to arise from what June said about Lilly changing like a week ago and how she started talking about Jack nonstop. At least one presence in Lilly seems to be the same deity that Jack spoke to in the Grove when he was making his deal with the devil (so to speak) because it mentioned that encounter. But is that the only one in there? Is it the same deity that's always been in there? Or did it come to her only a week ago as a way to get to Jack and complete their contract? ("It is done.")

Lilly refers to her demon as Mr. Wriggles (which feels like an Exorcist allusion) and it seems like she has a pretty good lid on it. And when that demon is brought out of her by June, it seems confused and frightened. But Lilly is pretty clearly possessed the entire rest of the broadcast, so really the two options are that she was faking the entire time just to fuck with them (entirely possible) or there were two different deities, perhaps the original (lesser) one put in her in the cult and Abrasax(?) newly arrived to claim Jack and his audience.

It's fascinating watching her, because you can see her slip in and out of a possessed state several times when people aren't paying attention to her (jerking, spacing out, etc.) but it's hard to tell whether that's different presences coming in and out of control, her "talking" to what's inside her, etc. Again, this is a thing I think would benefit from multiple viewings. I'm really not sure if the Grove creature is new to her body or if it's been there all along biding its time, and it's only changing its behavior now because it wanted to be on tv.

While her recently changed behavior seems to lean towards the former, I am sort of stuck on the detail that Jack said early on, that he read June's book and couldn't stop thinking about it. That could just be normal fascination (and he did end up having an affair with her) but it could also be demonic intervention. That would indicate that the demon was manipulating him into putting Lilly on TV long before a week ago.

What is not really up for debate is that the presence inside Lilly now is one that has connections to Jack through the Grove and promised him fame. Lilly (before she was visibly possessed) alludes to this promise by telling Jack that he'll be very famous after tonight. And once the ritual starts, she is seen taking electrical energy from the set and cameras. She is literally getting her power from the audience viewing the sacrifice. (It's very Ringu.) And after Jack stabs Lilly, the studio audience, audience at home, and presumably real-life audience watching this movie, are all put under Abrasax's control.

("Hail Abrasax" is seen multiple times throughout the film, which might also imply that the documentarians themselves are trying to spread this contagion after watching the video.)

Uh... a few more small things.

Carmichael Haig is obviously James Randi. Like Houdini before him, Randi was also a stage magician who dedicated his life to exposing "supernatural" charlatans. He did indeed offer a huge sum of money to whoever could prove him wrong. Carmichael even looked like James Randi. (Though I'd point out that "Haig" is the name of the man who constructed the owl statue at the real-life Bohemian Grove!) I suppose it makes sense that he'd be such an asshole in a world where demonic possession does actually exist.

The one thing I'd say is... it's hard to say whether this was a case of the filmmakers not thinking through implications or if this really was a nasty joke, but Randi was, IRL, gay. He came out late in life and got married to a man shortly before he died. So the implication that Carmichael, in the movie, wanted to join the Grove largely because he was perverted is... iffy. Carmichael was never stated to be gay in the movie (that I noticed) and it's hard to suss out whether the orgies he was talking about were relating to the all-male membership of the Grove (i.e. a gay orgy) or the women that these powerful men had hanging all over them (i.e. a... less gay orgy) and I do think which they were implying has major implications for what they were saying about a man who was, IRL, gay.

Like... if the implication was that he must've been willing to hurt people in order to have wild sex because he's gay, that's uh! Not great! But if the creators didn't realize that aspect of Randi's life (it was less publicized because, as I mentioned, it happened later in his life) then they might have just been pushing on that trope of powerful men using women.

Really, really hard to say.

Next, Christou. Christou... it's hard to say whether the man was psychic at all. It's clear that he was doing a lot of fake-ass cold reading beforehand (though I do want to go back through it and see if there really was any allusion to a Peter- character involving the skeleton) and was using interviews to find grieving audience members. (Two practices that James Randi talked about a lot IRL.) But he also did have a very real experience when he sensed Minnie and, while overwhelmed, didn't seem particularly shocked by it.

If I had to guess, I think that Christou does have some psychic powers (which is why I want to investigate the Peter thing) but can't control them well and is easily overwhelmed by real phenomena. He plays things up for the cameras (I noticed his accent slipped when he had his real experience, lmao) but I wouldn't be surprised if, like everyone else on stage, there's a kernel of something real in him.

Finally... that fucking skeleton! I want to do an entire watch through just to examine that guy. He was in the flashbacks about the Grove, so I think it's likely that he might've been a member of that. He also is the only one who refuses to take off his mask, which seems to relate to the dialogue at the beginning of the film about wearing a mask to protect yourself from spirits during Halloween. I think he's definitely in on what's going on, to some extent, but it's hard to figure out exactly in what capacity. Was it a Grove member, or maybe a cult member? A follower of Abraxas? Was it actually the personification of Death?

Hard! To! Say!

Like I said, I really do want to rewatch this movie to pay more attention to small details I might've missed in the theater. I'm also looking forward to seeing it with subtitles. It wasn't a perfect movie, but it was intriguing and original enough that I really enjoyed it and want to watch it again to puzzle through it. Really, the one big mark against it was the brief use of AI, which is just -- god, it's infuriating.

It's such a small part, so it would have been so easy to not do. (Apparently it wasn't even IN the first festival showing.) But it kind of pollutes the whole movie, especially when such a large message is not fucking over real people in the quest for success in the media landscape.

Plus, it just kind of looked like shit.

I know it's probably a lost cause, but I would be thrilled if they hired a real artist and redid those images for the Shudder release. It would be so easy to fix, and it would make the movie a lot better. Those commercial breaks were so funny and if they had better interstitials (that didn't make you feel icky just looking at them) then it would boost an already great film.

I just. I don't even know why they did it in the first place. I'm guessing, based on the fact that they weren't in the original screenings, that they were pressed for time to finish things...? But come on, surely you can find some artist who can do something quick for you. It wasn't even a moving image.

So uh... yeah, I guess that's where I'm at. It was an interesting (if slightly hokey) movie pulling together a lot of threads to make something cool and mysterious, I liked a lot of the acting (particularly Jack Delroy's) and set design, I wanna chat with people about it -- but I can't really in good conscience fully recommend it because of the AI thing. It's just such a disgrace to artistic integrity. Here's hoping they hire a real fucking artist.

#this got really long sorry lmao #really though more than anything this just made me feel like #damn why did I stop coming out to the bourse and east #like yeah they're a little further than the PFS center and the amc but not by much #I felt so nostalgic there #I gotta get back into seeing weird indie movies I miss it #late night with the devil

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rosemariad · 2 months

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Supernatural season 14

Oh boy!

So Alt-Michael has taken over Dean’s body and absconded to parts unknown - what an unprecedented plot twist who could’ve possibly seen this coming, certainly not Dean, the one guy who doesn’t trust angels and has a history of being short-sighted & making shitty deals.

Since this is season 14, and there’s only 1 more season after this, I presume Dean will never grow out of these bad qualities 🤦🏾‍♀️, so…moving on.

Check you out Sam, leading your new band of hunters, like some sort of Hunters Incorporated©️. I’m glad Sam gets to spend more time with his mom, but he won’t let her take care of him 😔😭

Was it me or did that Michael & Anael scene feel like Jensen x Danneel role play 🤣 - at least when he caressed her face. Like really bro? I don’t think the scene would’ve played out that way if the actors weren’t actual husband and wife 🤣

Shoutout to Supernatural for keeping Mark Pellegrino employed lol 😂😂 cuz I don’t see Why the fuck he’s still around if the devil is supposedly dead - wasn’t Mark P. also doing 13 reasons why around this time?? Anywho, Nick, luci’s longtime vessel, isn’t dead???? What does Nick have that jimmy novak didn’t (or literally any other angel vessel for that matter) — plot convenience? That must be it 🤣🤣🤣

Cas honey, why are you letting these demons beat you up? Cuz Dean is gone on your watch? cuz im sorry there’s no way im believing Cas was weaker than all them demons. That’s also plot convenience IDGAF!

After yet another demon-hunter showdown, Mary and Bobby are spotted sharing a beer & flirting…I wish John were around to see this AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Oh Jack, poor guy feels worthless for having no power. He should’ve been like ‘Castiel what’s it like being worthless?’ since that was Castiel’s arc for a minute too, which again fuck Supernatural for. Cas had like 1 badass moment last season when he fried Donatello’s brains but that’s it. Meanwhile Nick totally called Cas out, bringing up Jimmy again and driving that guilt straight into Castiel.

Alt-Michael is recruiting?? Brief Dean cameo in 14x02, you give him like 2 lines, wow 😒. Even Sam got more screen time in 5x22 swan song…but Dean suddenly comes back at the end of the episode???? Nah, bullshit!

Also lol karma for Dean in 14x02 when Jack is like, ‘Dean doesn’t matter’, Michael has to be stopped. Ahahahahahahaha. He was the so called pragmatist when it came to Jack, now it’s Jack’s turn. Castiel’s face when jack said it tho…

Dean got stabbed by AU Kaia? What?? Oh look yet another instance of Dean running away from his problems and pain and being a dick to Kaia (though she's technically a different person) again! Good for you tho AU Kaia for giving Dean a taste of his own medicine and telling him off.

Bobby leave Sam alone, I’m here for his captain my captain era. The lovable giant is doing his best!

So some necromancer gets away from Jack & Dean but we’re not gonna see her again, right??? There’s just a little over 30 episodes left in the show at this point. They probably didn’t know that at the time though.

Shoutout to the devil for basically condemning his child to die from a lack of grace :/ while Cas was able to survive (cuz plot convenience most likely) Jack as a nephilim was unable to do so. Gabe’s spare angel grace couldn’t help (I wonder if he were still alive in canon, if it would’ve made a difference. Oh well).

So this is where Cas made the deal with the empty (yes I know about it, how doesn’t everyone that shit went viral the very night it originally aired amidst the infamous nail-biting 2020 election week), tumblr is still serving the memes to this day.

Cas doesn’t want the Winchesters to know cuz Dean 😭 idc, if I was Jack I would NOT keep that secret. Dean would know IMMEDIATELY.

I think more angels died, but heaven hasn’t fallen yet…right? They keep coming back to that. Hm…

Nick’s arc is…bleh. Pretty sure in his desperation he just brought Luci back from the empty…welp. I guess when you’re an archangel who was predestined by God to fight in a fateful epic battle against your big bro, you just get certain perks in the afterlife 😒

Sam doesn’t want Alt-Charlie to go when its like bro! She. Is. Not. Charlie!!! For fuck sake guys SMH, let her live her fucking life! God forbid she want to run away to fucking safety and not die bloody like her counterpart 🤬

Bobby and Mary run off to a cabin for weeks on end 😏😂 to recuperate, sure Mary 🤣

Garth is back! Working as a spy for the Winchesters, oh dear Lord no. I know he makes it to season 15 but maaaan I don't like this….

The nerve of Dean to challenge Alt-Kaia to either hand over the weapon or kill her. What if she just killed him? Also, can't they just replicate the weapon for their own uses? All they would need to do is ensure they're using the same materials Kaia did when she forged the weapon in her own world.

How many hits to the head is Sam supposed to fuckin' take? I feel like it's happened more in this season alone than the entire show so far? He should probably be dead at this point 🤣

Jack got taken, oh no! why didn't Michael kill him? To take him as a ward? Seriously? Whatever.

And it turns out the past episode was a long con to get Dean right where Alt-Michael wanted him. I know there was a catch to him letting Dean go in 14x02.

So Alt-Michael chose to trap Dean in…contentment? With Pamela Barnes? And they weren't even a couple, just friends. She called him out on something.

Why not have him be with a real girlfriend of his, like Lisa or even Cassie? I’m supposed to believe Dean's dream is an unsuccessful bar living out his days with a platonic lady friend??? Really??? Bullshit!

John returns for the final time to go back to 2003? Okay. His hair is cut and grayish. Lol so I’m gonna see that as John gained some weight (from food/drink or muscle training idc) and dyes his hair black but the root are grey and come out every so often 🤣 but yay JDM I wish you had been in more episodes! Oh well.

So no one’s gonna talk about:

a) Adam’s existence

b) Bobby X Mary or how Bobby essentially replaced john as the father/husband by getting involved with Mary AND being a surrogate father to Sam & Dean (with a clear preference to Dean but whatever)

I’d care more about Sam & John’s convo if we had more time with them together on screen. But it was nice to see them squash their beef.

Dean & John’s convo was faaaar too brief. But insightful to their relationship. John wanted dean to have a family, echoing his wishes for his eldest in season 1 in his convo w/ Sam.

But Dean was like I have a family 🥺 my emotions!

Back to the Michael bullshit – a fight with a gorgon fucked up his containment so he literally broke out of Dean's body and killed all the hunters who were conveniently at the bunker when they brought an unconscious Dean back there. Even poor unfortunate Maggie. For a second I thought Mary would be there since Maggie mentioned she was on her way back but no, he ended up possessing Rowena.

Then they bring the old angel torture device of disabling our heroes' ability to breathe, like in the season 5 premiere, making them blind (that's new) and making them hurt.

Jack gets his chance to take Michael down, and takes his grace??????

Oh Sam bby, it's not your fault. Those people were doomed no matter what. TBH I'm surprised they lasted this long. But cuz he's a Winchester and he was raised by Dean & they've rubbed off each other too much at this point (nobromo), he decides to focus on yet another case even when Dean himself isn't willing since big bro has pointed out they have done 3 cases back to back. They're not the young men they used to be lol.

Cas goes with Sam to a milkshake town and given his legendary levels of awkwardness he's immediately seen and called out for his inherent queerness by the townsfolk (in all senses of the word).

Aw Sam wants to stay, ofc he does. This town is simple and peaceful. He could use some of that. Too bad this place is making people's heads explode.

This is why we can't have nice things.

Ah subtle there Supernatural, making Jack, a Nephilim who's the offspring of the devil himself choose between angel and devil food cake 🤣 Dean why would you put him in that position?

Cas why you gotta be snitching on Sam to your boy bestie like that 🤣 – typical boyfriend tomfoolery

Oftentimes since Jack started in this show, he's felt like an intern and 14x16 is one of those times. They don't wanna bring jack along so they think to leave him alone doing chores. Good Lord.

Oh honey Sam you didn't have to tell the sheriff you're not FBI, just stick to the monster stuff. He knows what's up.

And Jack sweetie pie you don't need to impress those kids. He should be hanging out with kids his own age. Just Jack with a bunch of babies 🤣. So cute! My headcanon is that he can actually talk to them. At least then it wouldn't have ended with a stabbing. Thankfully he cleaned up his mess, even though the local kids are terrified of him. It’s a shame he doesn’t have friends. If only he was allowed to have Claire in his life.

They finally resolved the Nick storyline (I hope) by killing him off via Jack but Mary is not happy. She’s concerned. She’s been concerned about him the whole frickin episode since he sassed her as they tried setting up a game night with Dean.

It’s like these people keep forgetting what Jack is capable of.

He didn’t have to relish the kill though. On the other hand, it felt like Mary’s concern was a bit much — if it were me I would’ve kept my mouth shut as to not upset a powerful fledging being into killing me by accident.

So Mary dies…again.

This is also why we can’t have nice things. I know Dean’s never gonna let this shit go. Sure Cas has fucked up a bunch, but killing a direct blood relative of Dean’s…nope. That’s unforgivable. I know they’re not gonna let Dean kill off a kid but I know he’s NEVER ever gonna forget Jack’s role in Mary’s (second) demise.

Why couldn’t you leave the boy alone Mary?!?!?!!?!

The boys show up, did they not circle back to pick up their mother? Seriously? Goodness Lord. So depressing watching the brothers just assuming their mommy’s coming back 😭

Cas (cuz of course this shit went tits up while Daddy was away) calls Dean to get caught up on what happened the last episode and is concerned that the Winchesters left their mom alone with Jack. Then why did you leave him Cas? You could’ve taken him with you. Like it would’ve been better if one of the brothers was alone with Jack? Badasses they may be, but they would’ve ended up just like Mary let’s be honest. The only difference would’ve been whichever brother got got would’ve come back. Mary will not be getting that special treatment…

Jack is tripping out since he murdered his foster G-maw - ends up flying all over the world (so his soul is definitely gone? But if it were gone, would he even care about killing Mary? everyone’s trying to track him down IDK why he doesn’t just destroy the phone he has. We get flashes of Mary & Jack’s time together and technically I believe she spent the most time with him (at least in season 13)

They’re still giving Mark P work on this show making him the manifestation of Jack’s subconscious cuz the kill is driving Jack insane 😭🥺 He’s reacting so much like a little boy who knows he fucked up it that makes this so much sadder 😭 Jack’s being driven mad with grief.

Oh fuck they’re going to where she died. Oh fuck.

WTF is wrong with these people! He’s a fucking boy! A super power nuke of a boy, but still a fucking boy! Like the Winchesters never made a mistake! What about the nurse who got killed in 4x22 by Sam? All the people Dean slaughtered under the MoC, as a demon! That’s just off the top of my head! No but cuz they’re the fucking protagonists 😡🤬

Samuel Winchester you know manipulating this child Is 5 different kinds of fucked up!

Jack why did you call it an accident! Did you not want to use the words murder? Destroyed? Obliterated?

Dean you piece of shit, why are you lying to this boy!!!!!! You know Jack’s desperate to make peace with you, and you lead him to a grave he’s never supposed to escape?! Poor thing Jack was sooo scared!

Sam, the regret is gonna eat you alive! Sam, for fucks sake, SPEAK THE FUCK UP! You clearly got shit you wanna say, fucking say it!

Dean you’re surprised Jack’s going along with it?! Of course he’s gonna go along with it, he wants to please you, you shady, manipulative BASTARD!

That’s right Castiel stand up for Jack since nobody else is willing to!

Oh boy, the celestial boy is freaking out. Claustrophobia was kicking in, this shit ain’t gonna end well. It’s a dark day when a psychological manifestation of Satan is making sense more than everyone else.

I’m not surprised Jack got out though. That box was made for an archangel and he isn’t that. He’s a nephilim, technically a different entity, right? now, the Winchesters have a pissed off mega-powerful creature on their hands. Great job team 🤣

that’s right Jack, give them a piece of your fucking mind! Fuck ‘em up queen.

Oh shit! I’ve watched this part a dozen times on YouTube, the part where jack makes the whole world tell the truth no matter what! Donald trump is canonically Crowley’s bitch! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

All hail the stapler queen! Iconic!

And God reveals Himself, what grand timing! He says He came for Cas’s prayer (but Cas prayed to Him in season 6 too, no?) but then He states the real reason for His arrival — Jack.

Meanwhile Jack went to see his real G-maw, not a good plan Jackie boy. She’s put 2+2 together that her daughter Kelly is NOT ok and now Jack has to confess the truth. (Where’s the dad? Was the actor unavailable or dead at this point?)

Sam was outed to love Celine Dion (I love her two Sammy it’s ok, her songs are AMAZING! My favorite is it’s all coming back to me now, I crush that shit in karaoke.) Dean follows a mommy blog 🤣 of course he does, probably cuz he identifies with her more & loves that her life is so full of shit (like I said, he identifies with her).

God don’t sanction lying, the real God would never do such a thing. Isn’t it like the 6th commandment, thou shall not lie? Like dude, the fuck?!

And no, writing means telling stories that are often made up but it’s not meant to deceive anybody. But Hollywood on the other hand…yeesh.

Dean breaking Chuck’s guitar 🤣

Chuck saying ‘DON’T!’ Having Dean shook 🤣

Why are you asking them how things are, like you don’t know?! You’re omnipotent!

They canonically made the British queen a lizard? Damn. These old Americans (the writers) are dicks!

Finally Sam is speaking up! Thank God!

Dean stop blaming people, Jesus, it was an accident (Jack you phrased it sooooo poorly though)! shout out to Sam for taking it this so well cuz he’s been through too much this season alone. He lost a whole fucking army, then his mom after he got to know her this time! And the concussions! So many concussions.

Angry Cas is sooooo fucking hot 🥵 when he slammed that truck with his fist 😏

Awww the first thing he does when he sees Jack is hugs him. Jack needed that so bad!

The biggest travesty is we never got to see the SquirrelVerse!

When Sam asks if God is watching them — Sam do you even know what omnipotent means?!

It’s just like I said in season 11. God doesn’t owe anyone anything. But everyone owes Him everything. He gave everyone the freedom to choose, for better or worse. But this iteration of who God is seems to watch what people and creatures decide to do with their lives. He made the weapon to see who among Sam, Dean or Cas would take it and strike Jack down.

So ultimately when Dean tracks Jack down and Jack throws Cas into a tombstone and Sam is running dramatically to stop it, Dean ultimately decides not to kill Jack. But why though? He kept talking shit about how Jack needed to be dealt with, but when the moment comes, he won’t do it?! I mean I’m glad but it doesn’t really make sense?!

Was it the puppy eyes? Did Sam teach Jack that trick? But Jack closed his eyes at the last second???

Oh Dean, you’re such a fucking softie. That’s on you God. You made him softer than Mr. Pillsberry.

If anything, Dean is the step daddy. Cas is Daddy. And then there’s Uncle Sam 🤣

Sam is many things, but stupid is never one of them. Naïve maybe, trusting, desperate. But not stupid. And not crazy, this time 🤣

I will say what makes this story compelling is the fact that the Winchesters find themselves locked in a cycle of violence at the hands of their Creator, and they’re refusing to commit further acts of violence in effort to stop it all and rebel against their cruel, dispassionate maker. But they have no means to back it up…today.

Not the Burger King catchphrase🤣🤣🤣

Not Jack being…smote?

Not Dean being yeeted into another tombstone?

Sam, why did you think that was gonna work on God? He made the weapon. You really think He’d make something that could kill Himself? Nah bruh.

So we’ve approached the ending of the penultimate season. 20 more episodes to go! Ah!!!! I’m excited but also not since the ending is what I know (mildly).

Side note - Sam & Dean still don’t know about Castiel’s bargain with the Empty (kinda seems pointless since God killed Jack anyway…Cas basically fucked himself for nothing 🤦🏾‍♀️ [I know how it ends but yeah still])

It’s not about the destination though, it’s the journey (I keep telling myself that).

God said fuck y’all. Shouldn’t’ve poked the bear…now these poor innocent people gonna die like sheep to the slaughter. Y’all got a lot of cleaning up to do and with so little people to help you.

So did God undo all the killings the Winchesters did? Cuz damn….that’s 10+ years of work undone. In 1 moment.

They’re not getting out of the cycle anytime soon.

#supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #rowena macleod #mary winchester #john winchester #jack kline #chuck shurley #destiel #deancas #bobby singer #charlie bradbury #rowena supernatural #supernatural season 14

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elizabethrobertajones · 7 months

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While I'm busy making every other post on my blog about Wyll Ravengard...

I can't stop thinking about how utterly doomed he was as the Duke's son and the huge plan unfurling in the shadows of Baldur's Gate... Like, he would have been killed or imprisoned or seduced to the dark side thinking he was doing the right thing or just tadpoled immediately and been a True Soul that was a more subtle target than just snatching his father outright on Day 1 of initiating the Absolute Plan. Would have found out something mildly suspicious was going on and leaped right in and been overwhelmed, or been snatched off the streets by cultists... Whatever it would have been, he was dead meat.

Point is, I don't want to condone Mizora at all, but like, he was alive, and made a "choice" and had ""agency"" and """freedom""" and was allowed most importantly to keep his personhood and sense of justice and I guess Mizora just found it really funny to keep a pet hero and stoke him up and she could thrive on the irony of it all because he was never corrupted into being an edgelord who enjoyed the darker side of it... The fact his personality got through it intact is the most important part of his whole character as you start to learn about him and realise he actually is That Nice.

Since it got him out of the city and kept him away from the heart of the plotting, and even the situation that he'd been exiled and the generic [Balduran] conversation choice is either "huh I heard vaguely you'd gone" or "I literally did not know you existed" it's obviously not talked about much. Like, he's WAY under the radar. (Hilariously, later when you get to BG proper, not being recognisable because of Mizora devilling him up double helps with being incognito on top of him having not been home in so long anyway that some people forgot he existed.)

Just musing on how he did seem to get maybe the easiest and safest scenario possible by finding one of the only ways to pry him out of the otherwise destined life he'd have lead riiiight up until the Absolute stuff caught up with his family and he would have been defenceless, oblivious and right in the middle of it all. And like. Yeah, okay, don't do demon deals kids. But it is hilarious how Mizora airlifted him miraculously out of a destined certain death.

#I literally haven't finished his story because I keep getting distracted #it's a really big city guys...#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #wyll ravengard

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 6 months

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AAAAHHHHSKFNN^^;?[@^ I FINISHED A CHAPTER GUYS

Literally so relieved.

Also made a shiny aesthetic thingy for the fic

So shiny

OPLA!Mihawk x OC

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Chapter 4: Parting Ways

Word Count: 3.2k

Tags: Slow-burn, Enemies to Lovers, eventually NSFW, uh, if I think of more I'll add them or something

After having her sloop sunk by the Buggy Pirates and losing most of her worldly possessions in the process, the normally solitary mercenary Karimi Lionne finds herself teaming up with the rag-tag little crew that is the Strawhat Pirates to defeat them. She bonds with them far more quickly than she bargained for, and that quickly turns into a problem for the Kiku Kiku no Mi devil fruit user when she learns of Nami's plans to leave them high and dry, and Zoro issues a challenge at Baratie that he very likely won't live long enough to regret.

"What are you doing?"

Gritting her teeth, Karimi only kept stuffing clothes into her bag. She didn't have much anymore, only the few meager belongings she had managed to rescue from her sloop before it descended to the bottom of the ocean barely a week earlier. She ignored Nami's question, not turning her head.

"Wh—wait, are you leaving?" she asked in alarm—and with more than just a hint of anger. "Now?"

"I said from the start this was temporary," Karimi pointed out

"So did I," said Nami coolly. Karimi could practically hear the glare that Nami no doubt had fixed on the back of her head. "And I seem to remember you giving me and entire speech about it last night."

"Yes, well. Unfortunate as that is." She pulled her satchel over her shoulder. "My chariot awaits, and my pilot isn't exactly known for his patience."

Nami all but gawked at Karimi when she turned Round, her arms hanging limp at her sides, eyes widened in total disbelief. "You can't be serio—him?" she demanded, gesturing in the direction where Zoro's disastrous duel with the Warlord had taken place in front of the Baratie. Karimi gave a short jerk of her head, pushing past Nami. "He almost killed Zoro and you—"

"I made a deal," she said through her teeth. "Unfortunately I failed to specify how alive he should leave Zoro."

"You...made a deal with him?" Karimi hummed in affirmation. "That—when you were talking to him last night—" She just hummed again, a little more impatiently; she had intended to leave the ship without anyone noticing, leave behind a quickly penned note of goodbye and apology with no details at all about where she was going to avoid anyone attempting to follow, and be done with it. She didn't do well with emotional goodbyes, and the last thing she needed was Luffy making the same stupid decision as Zoro in some harebrained attempt to save her from her own botched deal.

"What kind of deal?" Nami asked as theg stood at the railing if the main deck, and Karimi sighed, shaking her head. "What kind of—"

"I have to work for him for a year," she said shortly. "No pay. Handle World Government favors and contracts he can't be arsed to deal with himself."

"You...a year?" And Nami was gawking at her all over again, shaking her head. "That's—are you out of your mind? You saw what he did, he's—he's a damned monster, you might not even survive a year—"

"I can handle myself. And I really don't want to see any of you die," she interrupted. "Especially not over something as stupid as—that," she said, gesturing toward the cabin where Zoro was unconscious and barely clinging to the realm of the living. "You've all got dreams. I...don't. I don't think a year of my time is that big of a price to pay, personally."

"You said you were looking for someone." Karimi cringed a little at that, closing her eyes with a sigh. She had mentioned it in passing in front of Luffy, and he had yet to cease in asking her who it was. Of course everyone else on the ship knew by now. "That it had something to do with the contract you took from Buggy to steal the Grand Line map."

"And I'm still capable of keeping an ear out for information regardless of who I happen. To be working with or for," he said simply. "And it hardly counts as a dream. It's something I have to do."

"You think that bastard's going care about that?" said Nami.

Karimi looked over her shoulder and fixed her eyes on Nami's. "Probably no more than Arlong cares about you saving your village." It was a low blow, for sure—but Nami silenced at the counter immediately. "And has it stopped you?" She turned around fully, leaning back against the railing, her dark green eyes scanning Nami's face as the younger woman glared at her defiantly for a moment...and then crossed her arms with a scoff and rolled her eyes.

"Alright, fine," she said shortly. "And I guess you don't want the guys to know anything, right?"

Karimi rolled her eyes a little herself, digging in one of the pockets of her cargo shorts. She produced from it a folded piece of paper on which she had quickly penned her short, vague letter of farewell before Nami caught her packing, and held it out.

Then briefly pulled it back when Nami reached for it. "This," said Karimi, giving the paper a small shake, "is all I want them to know. I kept your secret." She pressed the note into Nami's palm. "I would appreciate it if you kept mine."

"Sure. Whatever." Nami tucked the note in her pocket without opening it or glancing at it. She met Karimi's gaze, and held out her arms in a shrug and let then fall heavily back to her sides. "So...what? Bye, I guess?"

Karimi frowned, shrugging one shoulder herself. "I'm not exactly good at this sort of thing," she said, her frown deepening, a crease forming between her brows. "Are we supposed to hug or something?"

Nami pursed her lips, clearly struggling for a long moment to keep a straight face—and then broke into a few quiet, chuckles, bringing her palm up to her face and shaking her head. "Yeah, I guess we're 'supposed to hug or something.'"

Karimi really hadn't said it entirely to be fecitious, to crack a dry joke—it was more than a bit awkward to wrap her arm around anyone, to feel anyone's arms around her. It had been a long time since she had, felt like practically a lifetime ago. The familiarity of it wasn't particularly comforting either—with it dawned a sense of mingling nostalgia and nausea in the pit of her stomach, and she was fairly quick to pull back and pat Nami's shoulder with a forced smile.

"I'm sure I'll be back again," she said—and she meant it, genuinely. Maybe it would be a long while from right now, but she wanted to see what might become of the crew, of her brief comrades.

"I'm not planning on staying much longer," said Nami. She swallowed, glancing back toward the cabins, and lowered her voice. "Arlong's not exactly known for his patience, either."

Karimi had no intention of trying to talk her out of it—there was no point. No point, and it would have been wildly hypocritical of her to do so. If Karimi could have had the chance to save her own village, she would have given anything.

But that was a lost a cause.

Still, she gave a small laugh.

"Doesn't mean you won't be back, too." Nami frowned at her as Karimi pulled her hand back, amd adjusted her satchel on her shoulder. "Our 'captain' might be an idealistic idiot, but I think he's got enough heart to make up for it. Don't you?"

Nami glanced back toward the cabins again, nd gave a little bit of a sigh. "I guess he does, she agreed, with a quiet laugh. She looked back at Karimi with the same half-hearted smile as the older girl took a few steps back. "Just...be careful."

"Always," said Karimi, tipping her tricorne a bit as she started the descent toward the docks. She stopped briefly, and added, "You too."

Nami gave her a short nod. A small but genuine smile. Karimi returned both without any hesitation.

Out of everyone aboard the Going Merry, and in the days before they acquired the ship, Karimi had found Nami to be the most difficult to get to know, to even get along with, making it clear from the start that she didn't trust the green-haired girl or her story that she was essentially a prisoner of the Buggy Pirates herself. Karimi understood full well her reasoning now—it was much the same as Karimi's for avoiding familiarity with others. It was easier to remain solitary than risk losing anyone else.

Zoro hadn't really cared one way or the other whether she tagged along with them, but Luffy had been a different story. As soon as Karimi had asked about his hat and told him she had sailed with the Red-Hair pirates, the young self-proclaimed captain had all but glued himself to her side, questioning her about them constantly, reveling in stories of the infamous crew and her time on the East Blue and Grand kine with them.

Reveling in stories of the greatest idol of his childhood, the captain of the crew he had begged years earlier to be a part of, who has gicwn up his own arm to save Luffy's life: Red-Haired Shanks.

Luffy's idol, nd for Karimi's first two years on the sea, her mentor.

She had thought Luffy'a eyes might pop right out of his head when she informed him of what Shanks's bounty had been when she parted ways from their crew six years ago—well over two billion berries.

"Two billion.... Wow." And he grinned ear to ear where he sat near the stern of the boat that night after their fight with the Buggy Pirates. He reclined back and laid down right in the deck, tucking his hands behind his head. "I can't *wait* to get a bounty." Karimi lifted an eyebrow row at that, glancing over her shoulder from where she leaned against the railing at the port side of the tiny sloop—honestly far two small for four people.

"You...want a bounty," she said slowly, a smirk beginning to curve the corner of her own lips. "You want Marines chasing you everywhere you go? Not to mention other pirates. Bounty hunters." She half-nodded toward the hammock where Zoro was sleeping.

"Well, yeah, that's half the fun of it," he said, as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world. "I mean, that Boggy guy had a bounty, and we beat him, right? Pirates are supposed to have bounties." He tilted his head to the side a little, frowning up at the night sky. "It's like a..."

"Right of passage?" she offered, growing more amused by the minute.

"Exactly!" he said, pointing at Karimi, and she couldn't help but chuckle at his enthusiasm. "Can't be King of the Pirates if I never even get a bounty."

"No, I guess you couldn't," she said, not bothering to hide the amusement in her voice. "Still..." she turned around, leaning back against the railing, her elbows propped up against it. "You've already got one hell of a right of passage. It's sitting on your head right now." Luffy looked over at her with childlike curiosity, placing his hand atop his straw hat. "You said Shanks told you it was his greatest treasure. One of the most infamous pirates in the entire world entrusted you with his most valuable possession." His eyes widened a little as that sunk in properly. "Bounty or no bounty, people are going to notice. Buggy noticed. He won't be the only one."

"Yeah..." He laughed a little, and then he laughed a bit more, sitting straight up again. "And he had a bounty of fifteen million berries and he recognized it. That's got to be—wait, do you have a bounty?" he asked curiously. "You said just about everyone on Shanks's crew had one. And you said you were a mercenary for six years, you have to have one, right?"

"Nope," she said, smiling. She had only been with the Red-Hairs for two years, give or take a month, and as a thief on the crew she had always been discreet, able to keep off the Marines' radar. It didn't hurt either that Shanks, due in no small part to his history with her father, had been particularly protective of her. "I've...made a point of avoiding familiarity with Marines over the years," she went on after a moment. "Not really interested in being a wanted woman."

His frown only deepened at that. "But...you're a purate," he said, tilting his head in a manner not dissimilar to that of a puppy hearing a strange new sound for the first time. "Pirates always end up with bounties."

"Mercenary," she corrected with a sigh, shaking her head. "Who...also usually end up with bounties," she allowed. "But I'm careful. I have to be careful traveling alone."

Luffy's frown only deepened at that. "Sounds boring."

Karimi gave a snort and rolled her eyes. "Oh, yes," she said, her tone drenched in sarcasm as she lowered herself to sit down across from him, "how terribly boring it has been working with dozens of different crews for the past six years and making loads of money and potential allies..."

"I mean the traveling alone thing," he said. He rested his chin on his palm, his elbow on one of hisbknees. "You were with the Red Hair Pirates for two years, why didn't you just stay with them?"

In truth, Karimi still asked herself that question sometimes. It had been two of the best, two of the happiest years of her life since the massacre at Conch Cove. She had thought about staying with them. It had been all too much like having a family, a community, for the first time since she had lost hers.

But her goal was too personal to share with anyone else, to weigh anyone else down with. Even now she felt like she was practically searching for a ghost, trying to find her father. To find why he had disappeared nine years ago, where he and his entire crew had gone.

Whether he was even still alive or not—and if he was, to be able to tell him the truth of what had happened. The truth of the atrocity that she and she alone had survived a decade ago.

Karimi descended onto the docks, shielding her eyes with one hand as she looked around at the ships docked around the restaurant—other patrons who had remained there overnight, new ships arriving as Baratie prepared to open for the day. Karimi knew the vessel she was looking for; she had never seen it in person, but she had heard of it, mentioned in passing once or twice during her time with the Red Hair Pirates before she set out on her own at eighteen.

A small craft with black sails, shaped like a coffin, with a seat that resembled a throne. She had sincerely thought the description to be an exaggeration, until she caught a glimpse of the boat.

It was docked far back away from any other vessel, it's only prominent features being a pair of green flames at the port and starboard, the central mast that was clearly modeled after the black blade carried by its owner—and the throne-like seat, where the warlord was seated, leaned to the side, his elbow propped against one arm rest and his fist at his temple, eyes closed.

Karimi heaved a sigh as she started down the docks to approach the ship. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Shanks and his crew were among the most powerful and notorious pirates in the world, and she had more than enjoyed her time with them.

Yet she still really couldn't get over the sheer gaudiness boat.

"How quaint," she mumbled under her breath dryly as she neared the small vessel, her eyes scanning over it.

Evidently his ears were as sharp as his gaze, for Mihawk cracked an eye open the moment the sarcastic quip slipped quietly from her lips. She stopped in her tracks as his eyes became level with hers, not adjusting from his leisurely posture. "If the accommodations aren't to your liking, you are welcome to swim." He closed his eyes again, and added just as dryly, "Oh, that's right. You can't."

Karimi rolled her eyes a little—no, she wasn't getting her hopes up that a single minute of this arrangement she had gone and gotten herself trapped in would be enjoyable.

"Permission to board," she droned after a long moment.

"Granted," he replied shortly.

He did open his eyes again when she tossed her bag aboard and it landed with a muffled sort of flump a few feet behind him on the starboard side, glancing at her as she stepped across the short gap between the dock and Hitsugibune without any further hesitation. Mihawk still wondered whether her nerve the previous night had simply been a mere symptom of her inebriated state. Now, however, she seemed completely sober as she leaned to the side against the railing, raising a hand just over the green flame at the starboard torch and frowning.

"Copper, I'm guessing?" she said, drawing her hand back and rolling her eyes with a scoff. "Quite the aesthetic you have going here."

She took a seat on the deck, tucking her hands behind her neck and reclining back against the railing, shutting her eyes.

"So where to, Captain Edge-Lord?"

The slight smirk on the girl's face indicated that her sass definitely wasn't limited to excessive alcohol consumption. Mihawk chose to ignore it for now—her ability to follow orders was more important at the present. There would be plenty of time to deal with her insubordination later.

"Once you have gotten us clear of the docks," he said sharply, his eyes scanning over her, "we will head due north-east, toward Syrup Village."

She opened her eyes at that, meeting his eyes without any sign of hesitation. "Syrup Village?" she said, frowning. "Not really much there."

"Toward Syrup Village," he repeated. Her eyes widened the slightest bit as his meaning seemed to sink in—evidently she was aware of exactly what, or *who*, might be near Syrup Village. "I need to have a word with Vice Admiral Garp. You will get us there. I'm sure you're capable navigating, considering your 'six years experience as a mercenary.'"

"I don't do Marines."

Mihawk quirked an eyebrow at her sudden and blatant protest; at the clear reluctance, nigh fear that dawned in her eyes. This was different from the attitude she had already presented toward him. She showed no fear in his presence, but the suggestion of sailing toward a ship full of Marines had clearly set her on edge in an instant.

That was interesting.

But there was plenty of time to unravel the reasons behind it. She had, after all, pledged to serve him for an entire year. Right now, the most important matter at hand was getting to Garp—and finding out why the man had thought it appropriate to send him after his damned grandson. Mihawk scanned over her once more as she sat on the small deck of the vessel, before meeting her defiant gaze.

"You do what I tell you, and you will do so without question," he said firmly. He shifted back in his seat, closing his own eyes again. "Due north east. I'd prefer to get this meeting over with quickly."

Next chapter link again for your convenience

#opla #one piece #dracule mihawk #mihawk #mihawk opla #mihawk one piece #one piece fanfiction #opla fanfiction #mihawk x oc

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writingmaidenwarrior · 5 months

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Sin Eaters Part 7

As promised @cljordan-imperium a new chapter just for you, right before the holidays.

Warnings: talks about sex, mentions of death

After the almost interrogation by Melleis Talindra was happy to have a moment on her own at the border between the backyards and just watch the people come and go while sitting on the stone fence. At least she was a bit wiser now about how to deal with the situation at hand regarding what the higher ups expect of them after hearing how others do it. Still, she had no real idea what the deal with the horns was because Melleis just grinned and stated she will learn fast enough since she was a horned one herself. Her inkling that full grown horns become more sensitive than those stumps she had all her life became bigger and she started to get tempted to test it with Wynthan.

“What are you thinking about with this wicked smile, my little devil?”

Wynthan stepped next to her, a step behind her still, with laughter in his voice. She craned her neck to see him and let out a small, surprised squeal. If Wynthan was already good looking with the long hair tight up in his neck, the short hair with a wild long streak framing his face on the right side he was now handsome as fuck.

“Going through all the things Mel and I discussed, but damn you look good.”

A bit sheepish he pushed the longer part of hair behind his ear, or at least tried it because it was too short. Kimesnin clearly just left it long enough to frame his face and give him a little rebellious air, emphasizing his clear-cut cheek bones but not long enough to make it a hassle. Talindra snickered and reached out to let her hand wander through the short hair. He stopped her midair.

“I don’t think we are at this level of our relationship yet”, he joked.

“But you wanted to do something earlier.”

“I think pulling a prank is a different thing than letting your fingers run through a person’s hair, don’t you think?”

She crunched her face but yielded.

“Yeah, I give up.”

Slowly Wynthan put her hand down and leaned in to press a kiss on her forehead. She just sat there and blinked at him in response. His smile drew her in, and she slowly turned around to face him completely.

“What was that?”

“I just… felt like doing it…”

The smile flickered as a wave of confusion washed over his face. Talindra put her hands on his shoulders and tilted her head slightly. His hands came to rest on her hips, his thumbs pressing slightly into it and made her feel hot and cold at the same time.

“You are acting on an impulse? I thought you were too controlled for this.”

The smile came back full force. Slightly he leaned in again until only half a hand width was between their faces.

“I am less controlled sometimes than you might get the impression the last twenty-four hours. I just like to stay alive.”

“I copy this. I am slightly clingy when it comes to staying alive”, Talindra joked.

“Good, because I am afraid mom will rip my head off if something happens to you. She took a liking to you even faster than she did to Mel or anyone else.”

“Anyone else?”

“You didn’t consider I have more siblings than Gil?”

“I was busy with a nosy Sin Eater.”

“Apology accepted”, he snickered and closed the last distance.

Almost instantly Talindra wrapped her legs around his and took a deep, relaxed breath.

“Gil gave me an idea what this connection is between the two of us.”

“So?”

“We need to ask one of the elders, but if I remember right the bits and pieces it explains why we trust each other and why we sense each other but not the rest.”

“You mean the attraction.”

“Yes.”

She felt his hands moving from her hips to her back. His thumbs started drawing circled over her shirt that ignited something in her blood she hasn’t sensed in ages. Her body reacted with running hot in the most literal way. Wynthan’s snicker relaxed her.

“You are literal a little devil. Keeping secrets still from me.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You also have fire, don’t you?”, he breathed into her ear.

“Only a little. I can’t really control it. Just enough to not burn me.”

One of his hands moved higher where her spine laid closer under the surface close to the neck and softly pressed a finger onto it. She yelped, jolted into him, and felt something surging through her hot and fierce that was clearly no arousal.

A second later Talindra breathed a deep breath of freedom. In a strange way it felt as shackles had been taken from her chest and she could breathe freely for the first time.

“What did you do?”

Her voice still shaky she tried to look at him, but Wynthan held her in his embrace.

“Helping you with your magic. Your fire was blocked because you are a horned one trying to pass as human.”

He stopped to nestle his face into her shoulder and sigh.

“That was this relieving sensation…”

“Just breath and sit for a moment. You might feel dizzy for the next hour.”

“How did you know what to do?”

His laughter vibrated in her body in a good way.

“Funny thing about our kind. Our magic sometimes gets blocked like muscles get cramped. Knowing where to press for each kind of magic is basic knowledge for all of us. Fire is up here. Earth down here…”, Wynthan pressed gently on the small of her back right above her ass and moved to the middle of her back right underneath the level of her ribs, “Here is the area for water, and air user get really funny.”

“Funny?”, Talindra repeated.

A moment later she felt his thumb on the base of her head, gently tapping the spot. She felt her magic immediately reacting to it with a soft wave inside her body. With a smirk she lowered her arms and wrapped them as good as possible around his waist.

“That means, I need to remember to massage your back well.”

A soft hum was the answer. She felt him smiling and anticipated him to pull another silly thing.

“You know, I might haven an idea where the attraction part comes from.”

“You do?”

Wynthan lifted his head from her shoulder what made her whimper subconsciously. He simply raised his eyebrow at her but kept his remark to him.

“We both have fire. No one knows why but those with fire magic are always more likely to be drawn to each other.”

Talindra started to get where his thoughts were going.

“The weird connection and us both having fire is what this is all about?”

“This is the current working theory. We can’t say for sure until we met with an elder and until then..”

She squinted at him not amused.

“I am afraid I know what you want to say now.”

“What do you think?”, he teased her with another kiss on her forehead.

“Not going further like this here until we talked to an elder.”

“That’s my smart little devil.”

“I hate you.”

“I hope you don’t.”

“Why?”

The spark of mischief in his eyes gave Talindra goosebumps in anticipation. He brushed his nose over hers.

“You know waiting makes things more exciting.”

“And?”

“And you forget the Festival of the Eternals is soon. We should sort it all out until then.”

“What is so special about it? It’s boring”, Talindra lamented.

“Maybe on the human side of the city but not in hell. We celebrate it with stories, good food and drinks, little games, and I am sure you will be especially fond of the nights.”

“Color me intrigued.”

“There are always houses and apartments empty and prepared for Sin Eaters during the festival. The nights are for the adventurous singles.”

The way he smirked and played with his eyebrows as he stated this gave Talindra the feeling it was meant exactly the way she understood it.

“It’s an adults only event at night.”

“It is. With special performances and many things, I don’t want to tell you beforehand.”

Leaning back to get some space between them Talindra tried to remember when the festival would be. Wynthan waited patiently for her to come up with it.

“Three weeks?”

“More or less, yes”, he confirmed, “But this gives us a lot of time to get to know each other and sort things out.”

“I have the feeling you have a plan beyond this.”

The grin on his face was beyond naughty and Talindra was baffled it was even there after all. From what she had noticed so far, she thought he would stall everything physical.

“I do, but I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”

“What changed?”

This sudden change made her skeptical and the fact he nodded and licked his lips before answering told her there was some recent event that changed his careful approach to this straightforward one.

“I had a longer talk with mom and Gil while she cut my hair. You probably got told from Mel how she and Gil are as couple?”

With a small nod Talindra confirmed it and nudged him to continue.

“It appears I might have been a bit too careful. With you being on the same page as me and us clicking right away like to cogs meant to work together we still need to watch out of course, but not as much. The higher-ups care for only one thing: children. If they get them from us because we are actually in love, or just have sex like some crazy rabbits or if I would force you as I got trained to, they don’t care.”

Her gaze dropped down to her lap. The deep breath she took went through her whole body before she nodded.

“I see. No walking on eggshells.”

“No walking on eggshells. No game of hiding. It is not uncommon for horned ones to take their partners to the festival on our side. Many children happen to come into this world like this.”

Both snickered about this because it was obvious with the horned one version of festival being a celebration of life like that. A moment later Talindra frowned.

“I need to ask your mother something.”

Gently she pushed him away and jumped down the fence. Kimesnin stood on the stove stirring something that looked like a sauce when Talindra entered.

“Kimesnin, how long are horned one pregnancies?”

“Hello and welcome back. Why do you want to know this now?”, Kimesnin replied without looking up from the pot in front of her.

“Nat and I talked about the festival and how it differs from the human version, and I think I might be one of the children that got created during one of the festivals.”

This got Kimesnin to look up and stare at Talindra in confusion.

“If the horned one is female and got pregnant from a human it is usually around eleven months of pregnancy, but since we know your father must have been part horned one already it is possible that it was shorter, around nine to ten months.”

“My birthday was two months ago. That means technically I could be a child from a festival.”

“Mom?”, Wynthan asked behind her with a weird tone.

Kimesnin, Gilmyrn and Wynthan shared a strange look until Melleis burst out laughing.

“You didn’t tell her?”

“Tell me what?”

“That should have been one of the surprises”, Wynthan sighed with a snicker.

With a waiting position Talindra looked at Melleis who looked at Wynthan with a silent “She is your partner” in her gaze.

“Part of the nightly potion of the festival is burning certain herbs that make you more relaxed and more likely to engage in sex. It is not uncommon for orgies to happen because of this.”

Talindra sucked in her lower lip to stop herself from laughing.

“In other words, there is a chance the human partner of my mother isn’t my father but a horned one?”

“Or another human with more horned one blood in him”, Kimesnin added, “Once we get you to an elder, we can get that sorted out as well. We have ways and methods humans never learned to trace bloodlines. Until then you might want to find your birth notification and your parents Sin Eater logs. If things haven’t changed in those last thirty years, you still might get access to the archives.”

Gilmyrn nodded from the side and waved with the kitchen knife in his hand.

“She is right. We have the highest security level a soldier outside the higher ups got. And yes, we still get access. One from our unit used it two years ago to find family after her parents died. In some way it is a thing most Sin Eaters do at one point.”

With the try to not laugh at the absurd picture of Gilmyrn with the kitchen knife, Talindra turned to Wynthan with a sweet smile.

“Sounds like we will spend our time getting to know each other over dusty logs.”

“I can imagine worse”, Wynthan joked and went to take the knife from Gilmyrn.

“Before anyone imagines anything far into the future, why don’t you start setting up everything outside.”

Kimesnin nodded towards the backyard with a motherly smile.

“Setting up?”

Talindra watched how Melleis and Gilmyrn went outside and pulled her with her.

“Just come with us. I guess Kimesnin wants to talk to him alone.”

“Why this?”

The face Melleis made put more question marks in Talindra’s head. Gilmyrn sighed and gently pushed her down the next chair. A quick glance inside later he took a seat opposite of her.

“Besides Nat and me, there are three more of us. One brother and two sisters, and one of the sisters had no horns”, he explained in a low voice.

A grim smile on her lips she huffed.

“She could have said something to me.”

“You have to understand this isn’t easy”, Melleis stepped in, “It is unusual that the horned one can raise their children. With their fifty years as Sin Eaters, they usually have to serve all of their children are taken away and put into the care of family. You probably noticed the amount of older folks with young kids when you went through the streets.”

With Melleis pointing it out like this Talindra realized there were mostly older folks with the children. Gilmyrn snickered as he saw her realization.

“You don’t need to feel bad. You probably thought it’s nice the grandparents spend time with their grandchildren.”

“Yeah, I did”, Talindra admitted sheepishly, “What happened that Kimesnin could raise you?”

“Nat was barely a year old when she and our father got dispatched for a double A monster with some others. Half the unit got killed. Our father was one of them, mom came back with half her bones broken and more dead than alive. She got retired because she never healed completely. With weather like today it isn’t noticeable but once it gets rainy she is in a lot of pain.”

Melleis sighed and looked towards the house.

“She probably is every day. Nonetheless she fought to be able to raise them. Stubborn like a rock this woman, and her son’s as well.”

“I have no idea what you mean, love.”

“Of course, you don’t.”

With a snicker Melleis pressed a quick peck on Gilmyrn’s cheek but Talindra’s mind was too occupied by the new information. That explained a lot of the strange questions Kimesnin asked about how Talindra grew up and how she dealt with her horns and all those things. A growing suspicion Kimesnin was afraid her allegedly human daughter was like Talindra started to grow.

“Natty was right.”

Gilmyrn’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. His amused smirk looked a lot like Wynthan. For a moment Talindra wondered if they got it from their father.

“Right? With what?”

“You are smart. I can see in your gaze you got the right idea what mom probably will ask him to do when you go to the archive.”

“This is all rotten from the top to the core”, Talindra growled, “I need to make a list of things I want to ask the elders if they want to see me. If they have answers to my questions.”

“You won’t change it, Talindra”, Kimesnin’s voice waved over soft and defeated.

The look in her eyes told of too many fights she already fought against the system just for her children.

“I know but hopefully I won’t. You can’t tell me I am the only one who thinks this. Things will get into motion once my secret gets revealed. Even if I am safe, they will hunt down every civilian who pass as human but is a horned one. I just realized it. If I let them grow as planned, I will put a target on everyone like me and that means either I will stay in hiding or we use it as a start signal to push for changes.”

All eyes went from her to Wynthan who bit his lips with a smirk and looked at Kimesnin with a gaze that held something along the lines of “I told you she would go there” and something Talindra deciphered as proud.

A deep breath later Kimesnin smiled.

“The triumvirates have no idea what they did when they matched you two. They won’t see it coming until it’s too late.”

“Wouldn’t be fun otherwise.”

Melleis and Wynthan snickered at Talindra’s remark, but Gilmyrn groaned almost unisono with his mother.

“Eternals watch over us. We will either go down in flames or finally be free.”

#writblr #writing #wynne writes #sin eaters #part 7 #sin eaters wip #fantasy #adult audience #post apocalyptic

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vitanithepure · 8 months

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Okay, I know we are all simping hard and overanalyze our favorites, and that is the highlight of tumblr experience, but now that some time has passed and I can slowly get back to thinking straight...

What else do you guys appreciate about the game? Is it a specific story element? A mechanic? Art design? Music?

For me, personally, that would be how we don't know who we can trust until... well, the very end of the game I guess. Most RPG games I played kind of make it all obvious who is the bad guy, who you can trust, who gives off "traitor" vibes. Well, BG3 sure put me through some hard choices.

Spoilers under the cut! Massive ones so if you haven't finished the game at least once be careful please.

I love how the situation changes from act to act.

We start off with tadpoles we want to get rid of, literally *every* way seems good if you are willing to pay the price of an eye or two... hell, even dealing with Raphael doesn't sound too bad at that point.

Then we learn the tadpoles are kind of keeping us alive, and a new contestant enters the ring - the Crown of Karsus and it's the new hot shit everyone is after. And now:

The Dream Visitor turns out to be an ilithid, and we suddenly realize how little we used to now. He claims he is our ride or die, but who knows? Maybe he is working towards his own power? Maybe he is under the influence of the Elder Brain?

Prince Orpheus might help us or not, we only know what the Emperor and the few gith tell us. Will he want the crown? Will he destroy it? Will he destroy us? Vlaakith wants him dead too, do we want to even bother coming into the gith conflict?

Raphael proves he can rid us of our problem, also potentially allowing us to free prince Orpheus, but do we want to give a devil the Crown? Will he really only use it to conquer the Hells? Do we even care? Do we want to risk it?

Then we have Gortash and his promise of ruling the Realms together, he seems slimy AF, but then again gives off enough pragmatic vibes that you think "maaaybe?", he wants to rule, not destroy. Then again - politicans, man, you can't trust them.

Gale wants the Crown as well, either to give it back to Mystra (to, hopefully, be destroyed...?) or use it himself. Do we trust him to be able to control it (please, don't)? Do we want Mystra to have it?

And finally do WE want the Crown? Will the Elder Brain allow us to control it? Do we trust ourselves with this? If we want to go through with destroying the Crown we need to trust someone or trun ourselves into an ilithid.

All of this and I'm not even sure I covered every possibility, because who knows what I might have missed? I literally had to stand up and take a walk around the house before I decided I can't trust the Emperor on my first run, and then Raphael popped up and I instantly knew I fucked up xD

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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tavyliasin · 3 months

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ATG 11 - Deal? Done

In which a new bargain is struck.

Pairing: Haarlep/Tav SPICE Rating: 4/5 Content Warnings: Sex, BDSM, Power Play, Bondage, Safe word use (respected)

Spoilers Act 3, House of Hope, Orin's Plot Canon Compliance Canon forsaken and forsworn. The parallel to the kidnapping and rescue is vaguely in canon, and the deal itself is half canon as there are a couple of changes that our Tav makes in the bargain. Other Notes There is the use of the safe word in this one which is immediately respected - I have every partnering establish a safe word though I rarely have them used, but this felt like the perfect time.

Song/Mood Haunting Kind of High by Aviators "The haunting kind of high The devils dropping by The mortal spirit's cry Like the fire in your eyes We're all just searching for that lasting mental spark When it hits you know it sticks And then your soul has hit its mark Ascending from this plane to walk along the sky But you need the supernatural For that haunting kind of high."

----- FULL CHAPTER BELOW THE CUT -----

Haarlep was bored. And if there was anything they hated most in all the hells, it was boredom. Raphael was out bargaining again, some new soul to break in his claws, the cure for his own infernally listless shuffling of papers just to fill the time. They waved their hand in the air, lazily conjuring the scrying portal, wondering where the most interesting little morsel might be. Unfortunately, the view was not an exciting one. Tav and Karlach stood either side of the druid, Halsin, his arms over their shoulders helping him walk slowly out of Orin’s dank little cavern. The bitch’s body was twisted and bloodied on the floor, and it was at least a little amusing to Haarlep to see the pale elf give the motionless corpse a couple more stabs before moving on to join his companions. Interesting, they thought, idly stroking their chin. They reached over to the table and picked up the stone that they had managed to steal from Raphael’s pocket the night before, a moment of inspiration setting them up for an entirely devious plot. They waited, albeit impatiently, as the little group continued to make their way back to their room at the tavern. It was far from evening still, but the druid clearly needed healing. Were they feeling generous , Haarlep might have invited them all to the house to heal. It would be nothing to let the elf recuperate for a while in the pool, and he wasn’t exactly an unpleasant sight… But the agreement had only been for one pass into the halls. An agreement that had been particularly irksome to wrangle from the master of the house, and something that had not yet been passed to the beneficiary. They knew he wanted to see her again, that there was a spark left unsatisfied by just the one night that they shared, and if there was one thing that Haarlep loved above all else it was feeding on a delicious meal of sins. They tapped the sending stone with an impatient claw, waiting for the right moment to begin putting their menu together. It was taking too long. They paced the room, fresh ideas turning in their mind, quietly grumbling to themselves as they flicked through the neatly laid piles of spell scrolls in the cupboard. Ah, this will be just perfect.

--- Tav had been worried for a long time, and despite the literal weight of the druid draped across her shoulders, a far greater weight had been lifted from them when she had seen the rise and fall of his chest on the altar. He was still breathing. Alive. The battle had been exhausting, but they were almost home. Yet… Something felt wrong. A prickling on the back of her neck made her feel like she was being watched, but the source was nowhere to be found on the streets around her. Years of keeping herself safe meant the likelihood of her senses failing to detect a lurking threat was next to none. More concerningly, however, this watching…it did not feel dangerous . By all rights it should - an unseen watcher should certainly not feel anything close to exciting. By the time they got back and laid Halsin in his bed, she was ready to go and take a bath. She longed to wash off the sticky and sickly sweet blood that clung to her clothes and skin, mixed with mud, dirt, and splashes of acid and gods only knew what else. It was when she was getting dressed in fresh clothes, however, that Tav felt the sending stone in her pocket hum with magic. Raphael? She thought to herself, remembering the one who had handed her the paired device, and wondering why he wouldn’t bother to just show up unannounced as he usually did. “Good evening, Little Rat,” the voice intoned in her head. Not Raphael, no, there was only one person who called her Rat. “Consider this your invitation. Should you accept, step through the portal that will appear before you. We have…business, to discuss.” Tav had a chance to reply, but without being able to get a response back again she wouldn’t have much choice but to accept if she wanted to know what they wanted. She was…curious. “Fine, let me check on my companions and then I will come back in here for your door. I know you’re the one watching me…”

---

Haarlep laughed, a deep and genuine amusement bubbling up within them, the unusual sound echoing off the walls in a way that would’ve made the most hardy of debtors shiver had they heard. They weren’t certain she would agree, she wasn’t desperate now, she wasn’t sneaking in to find help for a companion in peril. No, this was entirely her choice, she was walking willingly right into their den and they could not be more excited at the possibilities that lay ahead. Besides which, she had the audacity to put her own business before theirs… They did so love the excuse to punish an unruly Little Rat.

—

Tav straightened out her shirt for the fourth time in half as many minutes, not entirely sure if she was underdressed or overdressed. She wasn’t even sure why she was about to step through the shimmering portal that had appeared before her, but nevertheless her legs were moving. One foot in front of the other until she was once again standing in the lavish bedchamber, face to face with the incubus, dressed as ever only in the leather harness that served to make their body look somehow more naked than if they were wearing nothing at all. “Well, well, what do we have here~” Their voice was pure amusement, a smirk lifting their lips to reveal the sharpened teeth beneath. They stepped forward, dismissing the portal with a wave, and walked around Tav as if examining every inch of her being. “What we don’t have is all night, Incubus. Why exactly did you invite me here?” Tav’s patience was thin, and completely erased every single memory that the being before her held enough power to snap her like a twig in an instant. Although, if that was their intention, they wouldn’t have bothered with the polite invitation… “You forget yourself, Little Rat, do not assume you have any real power here. You didn’t even bring a single weapon with you.” They growled their words, rising somehow taller as their wings spread behind them, tail lashing the ground with a snap that made Tav flinch at the ghost of the memory of her last visit. Fuck, she realised, I only brought 5. “That’s what you think, but I assume they won’t be needed?” Too bold, Tav, too bold, why can’t you just think before you speak- “You may make whatever assumptions you wish, but whatever you have hidden under…I’m loathe to call it an outfit , whatever that is supposed to be, you had best keep it hidden.”

Haarlep’s words were cutting, the remarks stinging as surely as a whip might. Why am I thinking of whips at a time like this? “So, Little Rat, do you remember your last visit to this room?” They stood right in front of her now, the fire in their eyes flickering as they gazed into her soul. Or at least that’s how it felt. “Be honest with me now, you wanted to come back, didn’t you?” Fuck. She bit her lip. They weren’t wrong. But she had no idea how or why she would even try - breaking in the first time was risky, and so was summoning a cambion with a sending stone just to ask for a visit to… To do what?“It seems the roles have been reversed, Little Thief, cat got your tongue now?” Haarlep leaned down closer, the decadent scent of spiced cinnamon and fire almost overpowering. “Speaking of tongue, please do not be so foolish as to try and devour mine again. I will decide how much is safe.” “I’m sorry, you seem to be assuming I want to sleep with you?” Tav found her voice again somehow, managing to stare defiantly even as her knees felt about ready to give way at any moment. “I thought I told you,” they took hold of her throat now - enough pressure to make a point without restricting her breath - “to be honest .” She swallowed involuntarily, her mouth suddenly feeling dry, the pressure tighter as her neck muscles moved. They did not relent, holding her still so she felt the same swell of pressure above her vocal cords as she replied. “Maybe,” she swallowed again, “I have been curious. Before, you talked about a deal, but none was ever made. Unless you tricked me, that is.” “Rest assured, if we make a deal it will only be because you completely agree. The same with anything else that happens in this room, you understand? I am an incubus , Little Rat, not a monster .” Their grip loosened, soothing where their burning palm had been with magically cooled fingers. “You are intriguing , I have no interest in breaking you, nor would I allow Raphael to do so either.”

Tav’s memories stirred, the echoes of their voices from this very room as Haarlep had subtly pushed the so-called Master of the House into taking care of her after they-... Ah…yes… She felt her cheeks flush, the warmth spreading simultaneously elsewhere. “Then… What deal do you have in mind?” She struggled to keep her voice from wavering. “I assume you already know my recent problem has already been solved.” “The problem remaining,” Haarlep glanced down to where the heat was fast gathering between her legs, “is Raphael.” “I’m not sure I understand…” She paused, neck beginning to ache from looking up at them as their horns seemed to reach infinite heights above her. “What’s the issue with him?”

“The truth, Little Thief, is you have stolen his attention. He won’t admit it, but he can’t get you out of his head, which means I can’t get him into my bed.” The incubus looked positively disgusted at the notion of being turned down, of anyone else taking the attention away from them for even a second. “You can’t just drag me here every time you need to get laid.” “I don’t need to, if you agree to a little deal. There is a way I can take your form, to use as I please, to please him when he is ignoring himself.” The frustration was clear on their features. “Naturally, a deal with me is not so simple as signing a little contract. You must give yourself to me, willingly, wholly, and I promise you Rat you will not regret a single moment.” “So, after that… You can just become me any time you like, simple as that?” “Indeed. I can add your form to my glamour, use you at my leisure, and you won’t even need to lift a finger.” They licked their lips, entirely too excited at the possibilities running through their mind. Tav considered the proposal. “Then what do I get from this arrangement?” “Simple, Rat, you get what you want. You get him, Raphael, just like I know you want him~” They purred, beginning to loosen her clothes.

“You might look like him, sound like him, but you’re not him.” Tav said bluntly, standing perfectly still while they undressed her, unable to hide the flush colour rising to the surface of her pale skin every time their claws grazed her most sensitive nerves. “Well that,” they continued undressing her, “is obvious. ” They casually tossed aside the fourth concealed weapon they’d found with an air of amusement. “But it’s not what I’m offering. You see, what you will get is a one time use of my appearance, as the Archduchess.”

Tav took a step back, almost entirely naked. “You want me to…to…” “Exactly. You will seduce him, as me. Then I can walk in, as you-” they paused, grinning deviously, “Don’t you see how fun that could be? I know you enjoy pushing every last one of his buttons. Just. Like. Me.”

“There is no way I could ever sound or act like you. How in the hells do you propose we achieve that?” It wasn’t a no. She couldn’t be more intrigued… There didn’t seem to be a single downside. They pulled a spell scroll from…she wasn’t sure where, and didn’t wish to consider it too deeply. “It’s only a Disguise Self scroll, a simple illusion but if you play your part right he won’t notice.” “That simple?”

“It’s a trick that will work once and only once, so you are going to have to listen and learn well. Now, do we have a deal? You get your dance with the devil, and I get to use you as I wish?” Ah, there’s the catch. “Wait. You could just use the scroll on yourself, why do you need me for this?”

Haarlep hissed through their teeth. “Oh very clever, Rat, but it’s only a small catch.” They leaned in close to her ear, removing the last of their clothes. “Once you have given yourself to me, fully, I can add your form to my glamour. And every time I use it,” they paused, claws raking down her back, drawing a gasp from her throat before they continued with a lust heavy voice, “every single time I use you, you will know. ”

The vibrations of their voice travelled straight down Tav’s spine, further igniting the burning in her loins. “No-” she stammered, “not just any time you like.” She bit her lip as their hands caressed her, seeking every most sensitive area to tease, to make her want to give in. “If you want to use my body, it’s on my terms.” She gasped again. “If I were to die in a fight, or one of my companions were to get hurt because you were making me climax from another plane-” she shuddered as they growled against her throat, “that would mean you would have no chance to toy with us both again.” “Insolent-” their tail cracked like a whip, “little!” This time the whip struck her lower back, drawing a scream from her lips. “RAT!” The third swipe of their tail missed its target as her knees buckled, striking her across the cheek. “Meow-” she gasped, hand dabbing at the droplets of blood. “Meow.” Immediately Haarlep stepped back, hissing in anger still, but ceasing all action against her. “You’re crossing a line. But that,” they handed her a small pot of salve and a piece of cloth, “was accidental.” They sat on the edge of the bed, wings shaking with repressed irritation as they considered the changed offer.

“You can’t expect me to disregard my safety entirely for the sake of pleasure.” She breathed deeply, not too hurt, but more shocked at the strike that had caught the wrong place. “You’ll have to make me a better offer, if you want that little caveat. You cannot simply take everything you wish without consequence, Little Rat. So, what is it to be? What can balance the scales? I’m listening.” They rested their elbows on their knees, chin balanced on their hands as they observed her cooly, their rage subsiding slowly. “There are others…who might enjoy a night here.” She replied, contemplating it. “Not immediately, I can’t promise who or when , but I will bring those who would…appreciate your company. You can’t take their bodies like this, though. They have to be here, of their own free will.” “A compelling offer. And if you do not fulfill your side?” Haarlep kept eye contact with her as she put away the cloth and balm, smoothing down her hair. “If that were to be the case, then you may use me.” She took a deep breath, holding it now as she hoped she had read their frustrations correctly. They didn’t seem like they could leave this room, they laid on their bed simply waiting for Raphael or one of his many clients to walk through their door, hoping that it would be enough to sustain them. They were bored , they were bored enough to have been watching her, to steal the sending stone from Raphael, and use it to invite her here. For this. Those were not the actions of an incubus satisfied with their existence. The look on their face, only barely noticeable through their usual careful control, was answer enough before they spoke.

“Fine ,” they growled, “but I certainly hope you make it worth my while. I would so hate for you to be brought to your knees screaming, your last moment of pleasure silenced by an enemy sword~” Their tone was irritated, scathing, dripping with sarcasm; but Tav knew she struck a nerve. She had made a fiend agree to change their terms to her benefit. How the fuck did I manage that?-“Now then, Little Rat, are you ready to seal our deal?” Haarlep was more impatient now, tail flicking behind them with irritation. They were not about to let her off easily after she had so deftly got right under their skin without so much as a hint of a knife.

Kicking away the last of her clothes, the final concealed weapon dropping from…only the gods knew where…Tav nodded.

“In that case~” the seductive air was returning to their manner now, but still with a bladed edge as they stood and continued. “On. The. Bed.” The words were a command, simple and clear as they rose to their full height, wings spreading behind them in a display of power and intimidation as she followed the order silently. “Now, as that delightful little mouth of yours cannot be trusted - you took too much from me last time and nearly drowned yourself entirely. Save your lips only for what I give you.” They pressed the claw of their thumb against her lips to make sure the point was understood. “And as for your troublesome tongue, I shall have no more words from you until I say so. No words, bar one, should it be needed. Do you understand me, Rat?” She nodded, mind beginning to empty of all thoughts besides the words they spoke, body devoid of all feelings but the heat already rising without the need for their saliva-

“Open.” They ordered, pressing their claw harder against her bottom lip, but not enough to draw blood. As she obeyed once more, they took their hand away, tongue lavishing the tip of their finger, slicking it with the powerful aphrodisiac they carried. It was salacious, the way they kept eye contact for every indecent second. The next moment, the same finger was pressed to her parted lips, hot with the scent of cinnamon and pure lust, the direction now left unspoken.

By all rights, it should have been unpleasant. The incubus leaning over her, still only standing beside the bed, denying her any touch but this single request…and yet… Her tongue wound around their finger, tasting the spiced treat that had coated it moments ago, curling around every inch to try and entice them to greater action.

The shudder in their wings told her that it had worked. They reached down beneath the bed, pulling out a couple of items and holding them up for Tav to see clearly. “This, Rat, should still your tongue for now. Much as I loathe to stop you from divulging in your desires, you should save something for later.” The leather secured easily around her with a buckle at the back, the padded bar now clenched between her teeth. She could breathe, she was comfortable, but there would be no more talking from her now. “Now, sit up.” The next item in their hands as Tav got to her knees on the bed had a wide leather collar at the top. A long strap extended nearly the full length of her back, cold metal rings at regular intervals almost unpleasant against her increasingly heated skin. Two more straps at the lower end threaded along the inner curve of her hip, securing the piece against her back with the buckles braced at the top of her thighs. “You will forgive me for being so terribly primitive but tonight I must save my magic for later. This should be enough to satisfy you.” They had been painfully cautious as they attached everything, coming so very close to the core but denying her any touch besides where the straps were pulled firm against her skin.

They knelt in front of her now and ran their fingers tantalisingly down the length of her arms, starting at the shoulder and ending with a firm grip on her wrists. They leaned forwards, using their deep voice as a weapon in the war of lust, aiming directly into her pointed ear with heated breath. “You won’t be needing these, for now~” The wide leather straps - as it seemed Haarlep was particularly partial to the softened but tough material - fastened around both wrists easily. Tight enough to feel the pressure, impossible to struggle free, but not so tight as to damage her skin or leave a mark. Tav might have been surprised by the care that the incubus gave to their partners, if they hadn’t immediately cruelly yanked her arms behind her and clipped the cuffs to the leather strap on her back. “Now, what you must remember with Raphael , is that he is not the first to act, nor will he act at all if you do not provoke him properly.” Haarlep lay down on their back, folding their wings carefully beneath them. “So we will consider some of this to be training , but I am not so crude as to withhold all pleasure from you.”

Tav was still touch starved, desperate for any contact, and all too willing to follow direction as Haarlep beckoned her towards them. It was awkward to move, shuffling on her knees, muffled noises filtering past the gag. Haarlep simply watched, the hint of a smile, eyes wandering across every curve of her form as she approached. She expected to stop by their hips, bringing one leg over to straddle them, expecting to do all of the work as she might have to with Raphael. But their tail snaked up from behind her, nudging at the small of her back. “Not yet, Little Rat, first you shall have a little taster.” They licked their lips. “Although that might perhaps be inaccurate… Closer, Rat, closer. ” Their tail gave a light stinging blow to her rear to keep her moving even as she got to their chest, their harness almost catching on the straps around her own thighs on the way. She was almost by their shoulders when Haarlep finally acted, strong arms encircling her hips, pulling her into their waiting lips. The lack of touch for so long as the aphrodisiac they had so carefully administered at the start had risen her to such heat that a long, almost anguished howl fought its way past the gag that she bit down hard on. They had a hunger, a desire, to bring forth every ounce of pleasure from the depths of her soul. Their tongue switched between delving deep inside her heated core and licking infernal symbols that made her shudder. Their strong arms braced her, held her tight, as their relentless work continued. Lips, tongue, teeth - all working her nerves until she cried out wantonly, desperately craving the release that was almost within her grasp. Just at the moment she thought she couldn’t take another second of maddening desire, their hands lifted her just slightly allowing space for their tail to slide between her thighs and penetrate her. Their tongue drew such immoral symbols that she felt that if she had trained as a paladin her oath would be broken the moment the orgasm tore through her like a thousand explosions.

Their arms gripped her, held her, mouth and tail viciously prolonging the aftershock until all she could do was whimper. The syllables of the word that would stop it almost wanted to reach her lips, but even without the gag she would not have uttered them now. Her whole body was alight, mind white hot with desire, knees shaking as it felt like the hells themselves plummeted even farther beneath her by the time they finally relented. Tav almost keeled over backward, but Haarlep’s arms held her back from the fall. They licked their lips, face slick with the evidence of their skill, eyes alight with ever brighter flames. “Well, Thief, is that all you can take?~” They watched carefully for her response as she shook her head, a desperate moan marking her plea for more. “Good…good… You do play so very nicely for me.” They held her still with one arm, using their free hand to turn their harness into smoke that left their now naked body in curling whisps. “Now, let me see how well you can move for me, Little Rat.” They guided her back now, until she could feel what she wanted most ready and waiting for her. “Do you want me, Rat? All of me?” Tav nodded, mind utterly clouded by lust. “Then, Little Thief, show me how well you can steal .” They released the last of their hold on her, leaning back with their arms beneath their head, simply watching her every move. She lowered herself carefully, the ridges almost sharp yet hitting every point that felt so decadent inside her. Her breathing was heavy as she tried to resist the urge to go too fast too soon. The friction was maddening, the heat even more so, and the way they were watching her was utterly beyond sinful. Her back arched as she reached the base, a lurid wail when Haarlep gave a single sharp thrust of their hips, somehow reaching a depth she didn’t know was possible. “Now, play with me, show me how well you can dance~” they smiled wickedly, drinking in every one of her reactions with a powerful thirst, “give yourself to me and prove you are capable of handling Raphael on your own.” Without her arms to brace her, Tav only had the strength in her legs to ride them, still tightly bound and deeply enjoying how the collar pulled on her neck every time she moved. It would be so much easier if she could use her hands as well, to touch them, to explore every hard muscle that glistened with a thin sheen of sweat and oil. She kept her pace steady, rolling her hips with a wanton moan as she thought about how desperately she wanted to taste them again, to trace heated lines all across their body and drink in their very essence- “More, Rat, you will not satisfy him with this alone.” Their tail swept up from behind her, lashing her upper back where her skin was still exposed. The metal rings of the straps jingled as she winced with her entire body, every muscle recoiling with exquisite pain. “Do not assume he would give you such treats as this, either, but I will ensure you enjoy yourself most thoroughly.”

Spurred on by the encouragement, Tav quickened her pace, feeling her own climax beginning to build with ferocious intensity. It seemed Haarlep was feeling generous with her now, finally allowing her the pleasure of their hands all over her bound body, grasping, clawing, teasing every nerve into a whirlwind of sensation. The muffled sounds escaping teeth clenched ever tighter on the leather bar grew louder, even more licentious - if such a thing were possible - brought to a deafening crescendo when their fingers thrust inside her. She was too full, impossibly so, yet her muscles tightened more with waves of tension as the last pieces were added to the incubus’s wicked game. She could not tell if it was the circles their thumb drew that sent her cascading over the edge, or if it was the whip of the tail that made her cry out in one extended wail, but her mind barely held from folding entirely in two. Her climax was drawn out further by theirs, withdrawing their fingers at the crucial moment as they filled her completely, the ripples of the aftershock barely any less intense. The only other sounds in the room were the three small words uttered by a fiend who had claimed almost everything they wanted. “You. Are. Mine. ” —

Haarlep watched, fascinated by the devotions of their favourite Little Thief, watched as her pleasure almost completely broke her. They almost wanted to, but that would have denied them any further feasts. This little game was not quite the banquet they had wanted to prepare, but it was so very delicious. They congratulated themselves on how well they had prepared their meal, seasoned her to devour her, sealing the contract with the most delightful chorus of pure hedonistic thrill. The lived for this , the satisfaction, the knowledge that they could bring any soul quivering and shaking to their knees, collapsing as she did now onto their chest. They gave her a moment, stroking her back with care, soothing the places they’d struck with cooled fingertips. Once her breathing and heart rate had returned to normal, they slid free from her, caring little for the fluids that spilled across silken sheets. A debtor would be in to deal with that before Raphael returned. Feeling Tav still shivering against their chest, they freed their wings from beneath them and wrapped them around her, laying still for another few minutes until she was ready to move.

“You did well, Little Rat.” They muttered close to her ear. “He will be most pleased. Now, come over to the pool with me. We need to fully prepare you before he arrives, you still have a little left to learn before you can play the role of the Archduchess.” Tav quietly nodded, looking forward to the soothing water on aching muscles, and suddenly feeling the pangs of a far more mundane hunger. At least she knew she could trust the food in this room, and somehow she felt she could trust the strange incubus carrying her across the room in their arms now… Even if their widening smile should have been cause for alarm.

----------- ----------- ENDING NOTES ----------- -----------

This is another part 1 of 2, so I will schedule the next to release tomorrow at the same time (unless you wish to head over to AO3 now to check out the originals~) --- Note from the original posting ---

I decided it was time to show Tav using the safe word and making sure it was respected immediately. Haarlep didn't mean to strike her face hard, but it happened and they dealt with it. They were still angry, I tried to keep true to their character whilst also showing them as responsible in the BDSM. The moment the word is used they stop, step back, and give the needed care. They keep a very close eye on Tav's reactions, and they do not initiate anything until they have clear consent to do so. Tav struck a nerve with those words, going a little too far in pushing their buttons. Everyone has their limits and they both reached them in that moment.

I'd also add in too about the ending. I actually wanted to add some more soothing aftercare, but I was too tired to keep writing darlings I had a bus to catch and wanted to get this one posted after such a long day pawing at it. But still, Haarlep is entirely selfish to their core, but they are still responsible. They wait for Tav to come down from that high, to return to the room from the subspace and pleasure, and indulge in what she needs. Mostly because Raphael isn't there so they can't force him to do it instead like last time. --- As a final aside on safe words and safe signals in case any are still unfamiliar with the concept: As soon as one is used, it must be respected immediately. Any action stops, bonds released, and nothing continues until/unless everyone involved is full happy to do so. Anyone who does not respect that simple and golden rule should not ever be indulging in BDSM/PowerPlay/etc.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #haarlep #bg3 tav #a tav's guide #fanfic #safe words are sexy too

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