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cryptidghostgirl · 1 month

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I had this though on a cute little one shot for Alastor x chubby reader in the hotel I was wondering if you would like to run with it? Where the reader gets some nail varnish that matches their lip color without thinking about it. Alastor becomes rather fond of them wearing the color and eventually it vanishes after Angel points out that it’s almost the exact same color as the reader’s lips.

The reader ends up pouting a bit over it because they can’t find it anywhere in stores anymore. They ask Angel if they borrowed it to Angel’s confusioned response to the tune of “why the fuck would I want to wear your lip color?” And it gets to the point they ask for Nifty’s help finding it while Alastor is trying to avoid the topic entirely. Eventually Nifty DOES find it in the radio tower much to Alastor’s flustered frustration.

A/N oh hell yes i can do this. 11/10. Also I am skipping the fuck around in my request order, I am so nervous about posting cover up pt 4. I promise it will come out soon.

Spicy Sienna and Berry Naughty (Alastor x Gn!Chubby!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Uhhh I got a little suggestive with this one guys. Sorry. Also,, Alastor is a little creepy and stalkery and has a thing about hands. This one just came out all around weird. Also, I named it after my favorite lip and nail polish matching combo so don't judge the fic by its name. Also Alastor sexualizes the reader a bit. Let me know if I missed anything. (guys i really have no idea what happened with this one, i am so sorry. I hope you still like it.) Also,, Alastor is for sure ooc.

Word Count: 3,675

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Alastor Master List

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"Is that a new color?"

Alastor's ears perked up. He didn't turn to face the source of the sound but he listened. There was only one person in the hotel Angel would direct such a question towards after all.

"Yeah. It's essie, Berry Naughty is the name I think? Nail polish and makeup products always get called the silliest things. Do you like it?"

Y/n was the Hazbin Hotel's newest resident. They had arrived just a few weeks before, brought into the fold by Angel himself. The pair were old friends apparently, knew each other from back when they were alive.

"Yeah, it suits you. A lot more than that blue you used to wear."

There were three things the pair could be discussing in Alastor's mind. The first was Y/n's clothing. They were always dressed to the nines, decked out in some crazy ensemble or another.

At first, it had seemed foolish to Alastor. Anyone who cared that much about what they looked like had no shot at being an enjoyable person in his mind. That was before he had started to get to know the demon, seen the joy it brought them to indulge in fashion, realized the things they wore were for them and them alone. Everything had changed with that. It wasn't about persuasion, getting attention, facade. It was just who they were.

The thing about this first theory, however, was that Y/n almost never wore blue.

"Hey!" Y/n laughed, sounding a tad offended, "I liked the blue and I still might go back to it."

The second option was lipstick. Another little hobby the demon indulged in that had caused Alastor to misjudge their character upon their arrival was the makeup. Every few days, they would come down from their room in one crazy look or another. It was always something dramatic, coordinated perfectly to whatever else they had going on. If Y/n loved anything, they loved a theme.

Alastor had again made the mistake of assuming Y/n's enjoyment of such a thing was a representation of their vapidness when he had first met them. He would not be making that mistake again. The thing was, for all their wild self expression and experimental use of colors, he had never once see them sporting blue lipstick, he couldn't even picture it.

"What! I'm just sayin." Angel teased.

The third and final option, the one Alastor decided was what they must be discussing, was their nail polish. Y/n loved the act of painting nails, called it a ritual of self adoration. The way they talked about it, someone would think they were dedicating sacrifices at an alter to the gods. Every week, like clockwork, they would repaint them. Monday afternoons, four o'clock sharp. Their favorite color of late had indeed been a dark, almost black, blue. Alastor had liked it. The color had made something about their hands shine.

"Rude." Y/n scoffed in reply.

Alastor had always loved Y/n's hands. He had always had a thing about hands. In his opinion, hands were the most telling part of a person, or demon even. They showed nerves, experience, hard work -- went straight through to the core of who a person was. A carpenter's hands were rough, a cook's were scarred, an artists stained with color, a string musician's had calluses on the fingertips. Yes, a lot about a person could be learned from their hands.

Y/n's hands were soft, on the smaller side, and without the bony protrusions of their knuckles so many people seemed to admire now days. Alastor had never understood the desirability of skeletal thinness. It was impractical and uncomfortable. Y/n's hands suited them perfectly, Alastor thought. They were his favorite pair of hands to watch, the way they would flit across the keys of a piano, the way they kneaded the dough when she baked, the way they held a pen.

"I mean, it does match your lipstick now which is kinda a look."

At this, Alastor really did turn around. He couldn't help himself.

Y/n and Angel were lounging on the couches of the hotel lobby. They were dressed down, wearing a pair of jeans that hugged their legs and a crop top that accentuated their body perfectly. They looked soft, they looked comfortable, they looked delicious.

The idea of hunger was a complicated one. When Alastor thought of other demons as delicious looking, it was because he wanted to eat them, to consume their flesh that is. Y/n was certainly delicious but, he had no desire to eat them. Not like that, at any rate.

Angel had been right, Alastor could see it from across the room. The soft ruddy red of their nail varnish matched the gloss coating their lips perfectly. Alastor had always loved the color red.

"Wait, really?" Y/n asked, holding a hand up to their face, by their mouth, their nails turned out towards Angel, "Is it bad?"

"Nah, it's honestly kinda a look."

Y/n hummed, moving their hand from their face and staring intently at their nails.

"Maybe it'll be my new color then... This is the gloss I wear when I'm just doing normal makeup."

"Cohesion is key." Angel noted, "If you have a look to fall back on, people tend to like that in my experience."

Y/n stayed true to their word and Alastor relished in this revelation. Over the course of the next week, nearly every time he spotted them around the hotel, they were wearing that same combination of nail polish and lipstick. It was a secret indulgence of his, a treasure.

They nearly caught him staring one time as they were talking with him. It was nothing special, just one of their average, casual chats about the ethics of one situation or another. For someone who had ended up in Hell, Y/n had a soft spot for moral philosophy. It was clearly spill over from some preoccupation of their mortal self.

Mid conversation, he had drifted off. He hadn't meant to, it was the way they talked. Y/n was an animated conversationalist, always moving their hands to accentuate their words in one way or another. It drew his eyes to their hands and their face equally, their nails and their pretty, dark red lips.

"Hey, Alastor... Alastor!"

"Yes, my dear?" he had quickly replied, snapping out of his stupor.

"Are you alright?"

"Why on earth wouldn't I be?"

"You just kinda... trailed off there."

Alastor tried his best to push his embarrassment to the side, to shake it off his shoulders seamlessly. Miraculously, he succeeded. He wasn't quite sure how, when they were watching him with such concern filling their eyes, a slight pout to their lips.

"Just a little distracted. Lots to do today. My apologies, my dear."

"And here I thought you loved deontological thought." Y/n had teased.

Everything was fine. Alastor didn't mind Angel having noticed, it was a well known fact the spider demon saw Y/n as a sibling rather than a potential partner. The pair had grown up together and when Sir Pentious, one night, had asked whether or not they had ever messed around with each other, seeing how close they were and comfortable with physical contact, the pair had made eye contact before each putting on their own display of disgust.

Alastor was good at seeing through people, he knew it hadn't been a show. What was a problem was when Husk somehow noticed the pairing of their lip and nail color as well.

Alastor had been talking to Charlie about one thing or another as Y/n shared a drink with Sir Pentious at the bar. He was half listening to Charlie, half to their conversation. Alastor always kept an ear out for Y/n's saccharine tones.

The pair had been chatting about how their respective journeys to redemption were going when Husk had cut in.

"Did you match your nail color to your lipstick?" he asked in mild amazement.

Alastor bristled. That fact was his, was for him. No one else was allowed to see.

"Yeah!" he heard Y/n brightly reply, a tinge of pride to their voice.

Though Alastor's back was to them, he could picture the way they must be holding their delicate, gentle hands up now.

"Isn't it cute?"

Husk whistled.

"Damn, Angel is finally rubbing off on you."

"I mean, I guess." came Y/n's hesitant reply.

"You trying to catch someone's attention?"

Alastor could hear his own heartbeat in the silence that proceeded their reply.

"I mean, not on purpose. Not with this. I just like the way it looks... I don't know, it makes me feel... pretty."

Y/n was right. Alastor knew for a fact, had seen it with his own eyes, how irresistible the combination made them look. Now others were starting to notice it as well and, well, Alastor couldn't have that, now could he.

The next morning, when Alastor came down for breakfast, he noticed Y/n sitting at the table, looking uncharacteristically despondent. His back to them as he began to prepare his morning cup of coffee, he smiled.

"What's got you down, my dear?" he asked and Y/n sighed.

"My nail polish disappeared."

So, they had already noticed. Alastor picked the carton of milk up off the counter.

"Don't you have others? You're always a veritable rainbow of color!"

Alastor kept his voice light and cheery. His coffee made, he took a seat at the table across from them.

"Yeah, I guess. I just liked that one. It matched my favorite lipstick."

"Couldn't you try another color? That midnight blue last week was rather nice."

"Yeah, I guess." suddenly, their eyes shot up to his, a smile breaking out across their face, "Wait, Al! You're a genius! I'll just go buy another bottle!"

When Y/n returned from the store a few hours later, their gray cloud had returned.

"Are you alright?" Vaggie asked as they slumped onto the couch beside her.

Alastor couldn't help but note, from his hiding place, the way the act of sitting changed their body. They were beautiful standing, stunning even, but something about the way their thighs spread out over the surface of the couch...

"Yeah." Y/n grumbled, "Just... bummed."

"Oh no!" Charlie exclaimed, walking away from the bulletin board she was planning their next lesson on and joining the pair, "What happened?"

"It's stupid." Y/n groaned, throwing their head back.

"Wrong guy hit on you?" Angel teased and they immediately righted themselves, shooting him a glare.

"No." they pointedly replied, "Just... that nail polish? Berry Naughty or whatever its called? The one that matched my Spicy Sienna gloss?"

"Damn, you're pulling out the color names." Angel laughed, "Yeah, I know. What about it?"

"I can't find my bottle anywhere and I went to like seven different stores today and none of them had it! Not one! You didn't borrow it, did'ya Ant?"

Angel put a hand to his chest dramatically.

"Who, me?"

Y/n rolled their eyes.

"Nah." he waved them off, "You know I always ask before I borrow. I learned that lesson about you the hard way."

Y/n sighed despondently again.

"I'm sorry." Charlie hummed, patting Y/n's knee comfortingly, "I know it was making you really happy."

"It's silly." they shook their head, "It's just nail polish."

"Yeah but, it clearly brought you a lot of joy." Charlie insisted, "What if I ask Nifty to keep an eye out for it around the hotel?"

Alastor almost let the shadows hiding him from the group in the corner of the room dissolve in shock. He hadn't expected that. He had really thought everyone would just let it go. Yes, he knew Y/n would probably be upset about it for a few days but, that just gave him all the more of an excuse to be near them, to comfort them.

"Really Charlie?" Y/n brightened immediately, "You'd do that for me?"

"Of course! I mean, I'm not making any promises but, you know."

Y/n pulled themselves from the couch, throwing their arms around Charlie's neck.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"It's just a nail polish." Vaggie chuckled, watching the interaction warmly.

Y/n let go of Charlie, who shrugged back at her girlfriend.

"It makes them happy."

Two weeks had gone by with no sign of the bottle of nail polish. Y/n still went to the stores every few days, checking for the color, but had yet to have any luck. Nifty too had come up empty handed.

Alastor was very pleased with himself. The trick of using his shadows to empty every store in the surrounding area of the color before Y/n went shopping was something he was particularly proud of.

Of course, all along, he knew where the missing item was. It was in the top drawer of his night table on the right hand side of his bed. Nifty only went in to clean his room maybe once a month or so and she knew better than to snoop. It was all going off without a hitch, even the comforting aspect. Alastor had had the absolute pleasure and honor of showing up at just the right place, at just the right time (imagine that), so as to be included with Angel when Y/n had the bright idea to see if she could find any other matching colors between her vast collection of lipsticks and lipglosses and even larger collection of nail polish. He wasn't sure how their hands could sustain that much acetone, or their skin that much makeup remover, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

Alastor was in his studio, fixing one of the control panels, his mind filled with spinning memories of the past couple days (Y/n had even hugged him! The feeling of the cushion of their waist against his arms, their stomach, was not one he would soon forget), when he heard a knock at the door. He straightened up, eyeing it suspiciously.

The guests of the Hazbin Hotel, as well as its staff, knew better than to disturb him while he was at work. It's owners, on the other hand, were much more foolhardy. He ran a hand over his hair, straightening it a bit so as to make himself presentable, and called for the knocker to enter.

The door creaked as it swung open, just like Alastor wanted it to. A creaky door was a good thing, it made sure most people couldn't sneak up on him when he was at his most vulnerable, most distracted.

"You'll want to grease that." Y/n hummed as they stepped into the dingy space, "I think we have some WD40 in the basement, if you want me to bring it up for you."

They had never come to visit him up here before, never dared even come near the rotting wooden door. Alastor walked forward, shutting the door behind Y/n now that they were fully in the room. He was close enough to feel their breath on his skin as he smiled down at them.

"No need, my dear, although, I do appreciate the offer."

A silence fell between the pair as Y/n took a few steps further into the room, their eyes running across every surface available before them. Alastor noticed their hands were clasped behind their back. It wasn't an unusual position for them but, something seemed different about it this time.

"What can I help you with?" he cordially asked and Y/n turned to face him.

"Well... I... um..." they locked eyes with Alastor, finding their words at last, "Nifty found something today. While she was cleaning."

Alastor was glad Y/n's demon form was not all that powerful in this moment. If it was, they would have heard his heartbeat spike. His voice, his demeanor, even his expression were easy to control but his heart? Not so much.

"Oh?"

"Yeah... I..." Y/n trailed off.

With a sigh, they brought their hands forward, opening them to reveal the source of Alastor's anxiety. Nestled there, in the softness of their palm, was the nail polish.

"She found it! Congratulations, my dear. You must be thrilled."

"Yeah." Y/n replied uncertainly, looking away.

Alastor knew why they were so uncomfortable, but his hope was stronger. There was an uncanny sense of optimism in him, one that was unfounded and unfamiliar. It drove him to pry, to see how much they really knew. For all Alastor knew, there could be something else entirely going on.

"Where was it?"

"I..." Y/n looked back at him once again, "That's the problem, Alastor. Nifty said... well, she said she found it in your room."

"In my room?" Alastor repeated, feigning confusion, a hand to his chest in mock surprise.

Y/n nodded.

"In your night table drawer."

They must have known him better than he thought, have seen the flash of sudden anger in his eyes or something like that, maybe he had tense his body. Whatever had ticked them off, they continued.

"She didn't open it. Nift said it was open and went to close it and just... spotted it in there so don't get mad at her, she didn't do anything wrong."

Alastor stood in silence, watching Y/n carefully.

"I just... Look, I'm not mad, I am just confused. Why was it in your room, did you take it from me?"

A shock of nerves fluttered in Alastor's stomach. The heat rushed to his cheeks and he looked away, a hand flying instinctually to his collar and tugging at it just the slightest bit, as if the room was too hot. It was all the answer Y/n needed.

"Why?"

Alastor turned back to Y/n and nearly stumbled back a few steps when he realized how much closer they had brought themselves to him. Nearly every other time, he was the one to bridge the distance, to step into their personal space. His breath caught in his throat, a sort of thrill flooding his mind.

"I... I..."

He had stuttered. Alastor didn't stutter. He had never stuttered, not even when he was alive.

"You..?" Y/n prompted, leaning forward slightly.

His mind was reeling. He couldn't tell if that was their goal, secretly, if they had finally realized the effect they had on him and begun to use it to their advantage. Alastor looked away again.

"It was..."

"You knew it was my favorite. Why did you take it?"

Fuck.

They were upset, maybe even angry. Alastor had seen them mad before but it had never been directed towards him. Normally, he would relish in the wrath of another but Y/n's wrath? Fuck. He realized right then and there, he would rather die.

"Husk." he admitted at last, his hands now fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket, his face flushed.

Alastor dared a glance at Y/n. Their brow was furrowed.

"Husk?"

"Yeah. Husk."

"I... why Husk? Did he dare you? Did he... I... what?"

Whatever feelings they had previously held had been replaced by pure confusion. Alastor could handle confusion. The situation at large was still unwelcome and rather untenable but, at least there was the confusion.

"He..." Alastor cleared his throat, brave enough to meet their eyes again at last, "He noticed."

"Noticed.... oh."

"Yeah."

They fell silent. This wasn't a thing Alastor had felt since he was very young. There was a wild animal in his chest. In this moment, he didn't just look like a deer, he was one and Y/n was the hunter with their gun trained on the spot between his eyes.

"It wa-"

"Did you also take it off the shelves all over the neighborhood?"

They had always been smart, smarter than he gave them credit for. Alastor grimaced, nodding slowly.

"Alastor, why did it bother you so much? Is it illegal to match my nails to my lips? Does it go against your... your weird ass deontological code?"

"No, it's just... it was... fuck!"

Y/n had never heard him curse before. A hand flew to Alastor's head, he took a deep breath.

"Alastor, I-"

"It was for me, okay? I... I didn't want anyone else noticing. It was just for me."

Y/n looked somehow even more confused as he lowered his hand once again. The releif that had accompanied the admission was greatly outweighed by his anxiety as he waited for their response.

"But Angel noticed too? Before Husk?"

"That's different." Alastor sighed, "He... You... I..."

"Alastor, what's going on?"

There was concern now, lacing their voice in its gentle vines. It almost made everything worse.

"I like you, okay!? There. Are you happy now!?"

He didn't know why he was yelling. Y/n's eyes went wide.

"You... like me? Like, like like me?"

He glared at them and they put their hands up in surrender.

"Just trying to clarify the situation!"

Alastor rolled his eyes, crossing his arms protectively over his chest.

"Yes. I... like like you or... whatever nonsense you just said. Are you happy now?"

It was a stand off, each training a metaphorical pistol at the other. Y/n was the one to finally break.

"Yes." they curtly replied, crossing their arms to mirror his position, "I'll... I'll let you get back to work now."

Someone had driven a nail right through Alastor's chest and into his heart. He watched their retreating form as they opened the door and slipped out into the hallway. Just as it was about to fall shut, they miraculously stuck a foot between the closing door and its frame, peeking their head back into the room.

"Just so you know: if you asked me out on a date," they began, their eyes flicking up to his from where they had previously been fixed on the floor, "I'd say yes."

-----

A/N Ant is a pretty common nickname for Anthony in NYC (where I am from and where I'm pretty sure Angel is supposed to be from). Yes, I will be using it in another fic I am working on too (its part two of Unexpected (Vox x Reader). Also,, deontology is when you have a strict set of ethical rules/maxims you stick by no matter what (Kant is a deontologist).

TAGS:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0 @kahlan170 @wendyphan01203-blog @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @luxky-aish @peterpankat @corvid007 @juskonutoh @simpingsohard @sethianaa @gabile18 @slytherin4ever @skyeliteratures @zombiesnips-blog

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chrolloluvr · 2 months

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May I request Mammon angst HCs please? Like the reader is possibly breaking up with him or something? (i love your HCs for mammon<3)

Mammon Breaking Up Hcs

note: Thank you i'm so glad you like them pookie!! also yes i love this idea ❤️❤️

warnings: Cursing, creepy behavior, unbalanced power dynamic, killing. Not proofread!

Female!Reader, (no specific gender, so can be GenderNeutral!Reader)

It would be best to tell him over text, since he is guaranteed to throw a toddler like temper tantrum if you ever told him in person.

So you text him over text, what happens? He 100% thinks you're joking at first. He thinks you aren't being serious at all, and that wow babe, you might even be a bigger clown than I am.

But when he realized that you were being serious, he gets angry. How dare you? Why would you ever break up with him? He is the king of greed, he has trillions of dollars in the bank, so why don't you want to stay by his side? Did he do something? Did he hurt you? What happened? Baby, we can sort this out-

In a way, still doesn't think you are being serious, which is what he tries to tell himself. So he will let you leave, and will act like he doesn't need you.

Another author said this already, but he will 100% go through the stages of grief, (he will never go through acceptance, because in his mind, you will always come crawling back to him.)

He will be in denial for a very long time. Let's say you move out, and even start residing in another ring. He will send you texts. All. The. Time.

Your phone will mods likely have 103 Missed Calls, 986 Messages, and 37 Voicemails. He is crazy, and especially crazy for you. So when you don't respond to him, he does not understand why. He likes to think that you were just going on vacation for a while. He genuinely thinks you two are still together.

Anger- Once he sees that you have indeed moved on, and that he is no longer living in fantasy land, he gets extremely angry. His general mood spikes, he lashes out (wayyy more than he used to), and a-lot of his servants are scared to talk to him. Will absolutely keep bombarding you with texts every day. He will even get his servants to start texting you on his 100's of extra HellPhones.

Mamm 🕸️💚 11:34

Come hone ygu little cungt

Mamm 🕸️💚 11:35

ANSWERF ME.

Mamm 🕸️💚 11:35

Do ygu knoe how easily i can replaece yu

Mamm🕸️💚 11:36

Fine go shack uo with sorm dirty hoboes you little slut

Mamm 🕸️💚 11:36

I dont kneed u and youir mediocar holes

So yeah... thats just one example. He has so many spelling mistakes because he is typing so fast, and practically brekaing his phone from how angry he is.

But in reality he does need you. You are. the one thing that keeps him running. However he will never, over his dead body, ever admit that.

Bargaining- He will send things to your... new home... in gift baskets. Fizzarolli plushies, flowers, tickets to his live events, expensive jewelry, the list goes on. It gets to a point where (if you live in an apartment complex) People start stealing his gifts and start putting them up online to sell. (And they go for 10s of thousands of dollars.)

He send these to you so that you can hopefully come crawling back into his life, so that he can control you again.

At this point, you have most likely made it public about your distance between you and the sin. Your relationship was extremely public, and known by everybody.

He refuses to speak publicly, because he wants people to think he still controls you. And when i say your relationship was big, it was definitely the most talked about relationship in all of Hell. People will go nuts about you two breaking up. Another author said this as well, but people will go crazy with the comments.

"L Mammon fumbled so bad its actually wild."

"Bros got plenty other options 💀"

"Why tf would she/they break up w/ HIM???🤰"

"Now that hes single I call dibs 🙌"

You try your best to ignore the comments, but eventually you cant, its not just online, but in real life you feel cornered as well. You might even start to reconsider your departure with him. Which is exactly where he wants you.

Depression- He spirals into somewhat of an insecure man. He strives to be better. He ups his game for his big pageants, soon to be bigger, just to impress you.

He maaaay or may not have killed people in your favor. This is known, obviously, but his obsession along with his newfound insecurity has left him no choice but to show that if you dont want to come home, he will show you its safer than anywhere else.

Overall, if you do end up coming back to him, he is overjoyed with happiness, and will take extra precautions to ensure you wont ever walk out on him and his warm embrace again.

However if you end up never wanting anything to do with him, he will be devastated, but he will force himself to get over it. He is Mammon, he truly does not need you. In reality, you were somebody he felt an unexplainable feeling to protect. He absolutely can live without you, but for some reason, he feels like he cant. If somebody were to ever bring you up, he would lash out, and make his anger everybody's problem. He may get over you after a while, but he will never fully accept the fact that you left him.

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sinner-sunflower · 22 days

Text

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 1/?

STORY 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14

We're finally here! I hope this sequel makes you feel the same excitement the first one gave you. I know I'm excited.

To the new readers, please read STORY 1 first for better understanding of how we got to this point. Trust me, it's important plus! It's a pretty awesome prequel if I do say so myself.

To the readers who have been there since I posted part 1, I hope I make you proud too!

Let's go!

HOOK: A LUCIFER CENTRIC AU - AO3

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

Previously:

A powerful explosion lit up the sky. The sky split in two and fire appeared high and wide over Pride. At that moment, everyone became so hot that they couldn't bear it, as if their whole body was on fire. They wanted to rip their skin off just to get a sense of relief but then the sky shut closed. A strong thump was heard by every demon in the vicinity and then they were all thrown a few meters.

It felt like an eternity before Charlie and the others could get their bearings. Those that didn't get knocked out went outside, once there, they see Lucifer far up in the sky, holding up a flaming sword. The signature pentagram of the city has been fractured by whatever happened and demons all around were either hurt or unconscious.

Charlie: Dad!

Charlie calls out to her dad but he doesn't acknowledge her. His gaze never leaving Heaven, as if he's seeing something that no one else can.

A screen locked on Hell zooms out as the machine's voice rang out 'target disengaged'.

An angel looking similarly to Lucifer, except there's blue tints on the spots where Lucifer had reds, was looking down at Hell pulling back a large, golden gun. They blew the smoke residue and sighed.

Michael: Hello, Lucifer... Still causing trouble, I see.

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

Lucifer lands on the now burnt soil of Pride trying to keep his composure calm as those who were not knocked out by the blast panic once again.

His jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles strained against the skin, teeth grinding together like stones. He tightens his grip on Lightbringer, knuckles whitening.

'Damn it, Michael!'

In his pure anger, his body moves on its own. Lucifer swung his arm back, Lightbringer's flames tracing a graceful arc through the air. He pivots his back foot and-

How dare Michael! How dare he attack Hell, endanger his home, his family, HIS DAUGHTER!

Before he could launch his sword at Heaven, at Michael, in retaliation, a mass of assorted colors grabs his arms and blocks his view.

It was the Sins.

Lucifer: Let go.

Lucifer lets out a wave of power, they faltered a bit but none released their hold or moved.

Satan: We- shit! We can't do that.

Mammon: Mate, don't do something I would definitely do.

Asmodeus: Stop, Lucifer. this will only make things worse. We'll come up with a plan but we can't afford setting off a war right now!

They're trying to reason with their King but Lucifer's eyes are still looking through them.

Lucifer: I'm not the one who started this.

Beelzebub: We know, babe! But! You're getting pissed off more than Satan over here on a normal day. It's not a cute look.

Satan: Hey!

Belphegor: Ozzie is right.

Leviathan: Calm down, Luci.

He was about to shake them off and continue what he was about to do until-

Charlie: Dad!

And just like that Lucifer's anger recedes. He slumps a little into the Sins' holds and calls back Lightbringer.

Charlie and the hotel residents were the first to reach him, he can feel his daughter's hands all over him checking for any injuries as the others worry about what happened. And what the fuck was that?? Was that Heaven??

He was about to say something when they were suddenly blinded by flashes and a bunch microphones being shoved at his face. His family were screaming obscenities for the press to back the fuck up.

'How did they get here so fast?'

Reporter 1: -Your Majesty! Can you tell us what was that??

Reporter 2: -Lucifer, over here! Was that a direct attack from Heaven?

Reporter 3: -Does it have anything to do with what happened in Sloth?

Reporter 4: -Lucifer! Lucifer! Does this mean a war with Heaven is about to happen??

Reporter 5: -Sire, the Pentagram symbol above is destroyed! Is that a barrier? If so, do we not have any protection against Heaven anymore?

Reporter 6: -Are you any match for Heaven's higher forces?

Questions after questions. It doesn't stop even with the threat of the Sins.

'Too loud. Too noisy. ShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutup SHUT UP!'

He looks directly at the group vultures, letting Roo's attributes surface more.

Lucifer: Fall.

The noise stops and the next moment the demons around them fell to the ground fast asleep.

Not even Charlie berated him for using that ability against their will.

Lucifer: Alright. Why don't we talk inside?

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

I feel like the start of my AUs are always short but I hope y'all will support me again 'til the end!

Read STORY 1 here!

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daswarschonkaputt · 2 years

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an incredibly subjective kinnporsche fic rec list

a few caveats before i get into it: i have probably missed fic. this is all my opinion, and if you disagree with it, that’s fine. i’m not giving these fics ratings, or picking out my extra special favourites because that’s just a dick move and inevitably results in writers feeling like shit. (i’ve been there.) if it’s on this list, i enjoyed it enough to remember it. which is saying something because i read a lot of fic. like, so much firefox fucking crashed when i was opening tabs from my ao3 history. i bsod’d my fucking laptop for this. oh and my fic is on this list because hell yeah i recommend it. i fucking wrote it.

these aren’t in any particular order, because they’re mostly in order of my ao3 history. bear in mind that a lot of these were written whilst the show was airing, so they’re not so much canon as canon-adjacent. where i can remember what they go by over on this hellsite, i’ve tagged the author’s in question. if you know any of the handles for authors i’ve missed, feel free to tag them too.

under a cut because there are quite a few here:

A Guide to Living a Mafia-Adjacent Life by puckbaes https://archiveofourown.org/works/39870123

What? Post-canon fic about Chay adjusting to his new life as a mafia-adjacent college student, and making peace with his relationship with Kim. WIP. 20k, 8/11 chapters posted.

Why? This story primarily makes me feel peaceful, to read. Chay’s just trying to get through his life, whilst trying to pick himself up and move on. It’s such a breath of fresh air whenever it updates. Also P’Bank is the best.

for you (i'd burn the world to the ground) by cuteandtwisted https://archiveofourown.org/works/40134927

What? AU where Porsche grew up with the Theerapanyakul’s, and has been Kinn’s faithful bodyguard the entire time. He and Kinn have a tortured relationship. WIP, 24k, 4/5 chapters posted.

Why? This one is not a peaceful read. This one rips out your heart and stomps on it. But unsurprisingly, I’m an angst queen, and I very much enjoy these losers ruining their lives (and each other). Also badass Porsche. We all love badass Porsche, don’t we?

but you’re everywhere (yes you are) by fortunehasgivenup https://archiveofourown.org/works/39221205

What? Canon-divergence where Porsche remembers the kiss on the pier, and talks to Kinn about it. Despite the summary, they are softer than canon. Complete, 90k.

Why? Reading this I kept expecting the other shoe to drop, and it didn’t. Kinn and Porsche fall into each other and figure each other out. It’s just a nice, long canon-divergence fic with low drama and high heat.

within the ablaze by lightshine https://archiveofourown.org/works/39897795

What? A/B/O mpreg AU. Check out the content warnings on AO3 before you brave this one, folks. Porsche gets pregnant, and has to figure out what he’s going to do about it. WIP, 9k, 3/16 chapters posted.

Why? Okay, so only a few chapters have been posted of this one, but what’s there has me intrigued. There’s some interesting worldbuilding here, but again, check the content warnings on AO3. It’s omegaverse, and some of the trope’s more dystopian elements are folded into the world here. This is one of the fic I am subscribed to and am watching to see how it develops.

You picked a dance with the devil, You lucked out by aby01 https://archiveofourown.org/works/39718185

What? A/B/O AU where Porsche is a feral alpha, terrified of being used as someone’s weapon, and Kinn is, well, Kinn. Porsche would like desperately to steer clear of him for forever – there’s just one problem: Chay’s dating Kim. Alpha!Kinn/Alpha!Porsche. Complete, 34k.

Why? Someone tags their fic with Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics and I am there so quickly, you have no idea. I really enjoyed the worldbuilding here. I followed it right from the first chapter and faithfully read every update – I vibed hard with it.

Where Power Resides by Laughsalot3412 (@laughsalot3412 on tumblr) https://archiveofourown.org/works/38407180

What? Canon-divergent AU circa episode 2. Vegas demands a steeper price for Porsche hurting his brother, and Kinn ends up going along. Somehow this results in them falling into a BDSM relationship. Complete, 65k.

Why? C’mon guys. This is a fandom classic for a reason. Laughs really knocks it out of the park. The BDSM stuff here is mostly non-sexual, and written really tenderly. It’s really clear what Kinn and Porsche each get out of the relationship, and the way they both come to rely on each other is really beautiful. Also I have a soft spot for Laughs’ Kim, who’s my favourite brand of feral.

The power in the taking by iffervescent (@iffervescent on tumblr) https://archiveofourown.org/works/29002584

What? Porsche and Kinn fuck around (sexually) and then find out (about feelings). Kinn’s a dominant asshole, and Porsche hates that that seems to do it for him. Written before the show aired, based on the Filmania trailer, and got a shocking amount really right. Complete, 17k.

Why? Iffy’s a fucking powerhouse, guys. This one is a little darker in tone than the show liked to keep it, but so, so fucking good. Obviously it doesn’t get everything correct canon-wise, but that’s to be expected. It’s still a really good fic.

playing with fire by acrobats (@fractured-ice on tumblr) https://archiveofourown.org/works/39521733

What? Porsche character study through the lens of smoking. Complete, 2.5k.

Why? A short fic that looks at Porsche and his use of smoking as a coping mechanism. Damn good characterisation. Almost meta, really.

i'm the violence in the pouring rain by theleftboobgrabber (@histypeisnice on tumblr) https://archiveofourown.org/works/39205392

What? Porsche has a side-hustle on onlyfans. Kinn has no sense of boundaries. Twisty and incredibly hot. WIP, 20k, 2/3 chapters posted.

Why? Um. I have no excuse? I saw a snippet of this posted on tumblr and was absolutely hooked. When I say I want these losers to ruin each other, I think of fics like this one.

tiny spark, mighty flame by BeStillMySlashyHeart https://archiveofourown.org/works/38828970

What? Soulmate AU where your first touch leaves a mark on your soulmate. Gee, wouldn’t it suck if the first time Kinn and Porsche actually touched was when Kinn strangled him in episode two? Wouldn’t it suck if that was how they found out they were soulmates? (Distant laughter.) Complete, 29k.

Why? This was one of the first soulmate AU fic I read that actually approached the matter that Porsche would need a security detail, once it was discovered. Which: I would recommend it just for that on its own. BUT, it’s also a neat fic. There’s a really cool use of the author’s worldbuilding at the end of the fic, which I won’t spoil, but I still think about it. It’s short, it’s sweet, it hits the mark.

Nosy, Nosy by snickerdoodlles (@thecookiemonster77 on tumblr) https://archiveofourown.org/works/39562044

What? Tankhun and Kim character study. Incredibly in-character, and also incredibly funny. Complete, 13k.

Why? One of the first fic I ever read where the author seemed to just get Tankhun on a subatomic level. This fic is the Tankhun character reference, guys. Also Kim is just so funny to throw at the rest of the cast. Yes, Tankhun. Invade his space. Irritate him. Understand him.

Head.Cars.Bending by hotlemontea https://archiveofourown.org/works/39744693

What? Tankhun ends up halfway across Thailand after a wild night of partying. Porsche and Kinn go to pick him up, and Porsche’s driving puts the fear of God into Kinn. As it fucking should. Complete, 4k.

Why? You ever read a fic that just sets the tone and sticks to it? It’s a simple idea, very straightforward, and utterly sticks the landing. I really enjoyed it. One of the few fic I was able to recall off the top of my head by name when I wrote this list. It’s that good.

Assumptions about you by Sirvaria (@antique-forvalaka on tumblr) https://archiveofourown.org/works/38101582

What? Smut fic, Porsche likes being manhandled. Complete, 6k.

Why? Um. UM. I read it for the… character development? Yeah. We’ll go with that. Seriously though, this is the good shit.

gone fishing by snickerdoodlles https://archiveofourown.org/works/39384114

What? Post-canon social media fic. Chay takes over Wik’s Twitter. Complete, 1.5k.

Why? I didn’t realise until I put together this list that this is the same author as “Nosy, Nosy”. It all makes sense. Cute, funny, in-character, which I guess is snickerdooodlles’s trademark now.

A Stacked Deck by Patterpea (@winterberrysea on tumblr) https://archiveofourown.org/works/40217793

What? Time travel fic where Porsche is sent back in time after taking a bullet for Kinn. WIP, 39k, 4/16 chapters posted.

Why? It’s time travel fic with badass Porsche. Anyone who knows anything about me knows I was all over this the moment it was posted and will continue to be all over it until it’s complete and then probably for a few months after that. This scratches so many itches and I love it to bits already.

fake love and hennessy by yeetlegay (@yeetlegay on tumblr) https://archiveofourown.org/works/39083298

What? Pretty Woman AU. Porsche is a prostitute, and Kinn hires him for a week. They have a lot of sex. WIP, 53k, 8/17 chapters posted.

Why? This is another one of the fandom juggernauts, and for good reason. The writing’s swell, everyone’s in character, and Yeetle works hard to maintain their title as the ruling monarch of the horny Kinnporsche fandom.

The King's Tree by LuckyDragon (@luckydragon10 on tumblr) https://archiveofourown.org/works/39298218

What? Soulmate AU where prior to canon, Kinn got his soulmark removed. Porsche didn’t. Porsche is now faced with a reality where his soulmate was so opposed to his very existence that he had him burned out of his flesh. So, he’s not really best-inclined to letting Kinn in on the secret. WIP, 64k, 12/14 chapters posted.

Why? It’s so good. Like. It’s criminal how underrated this fic is, relatively. Whenever this one updates, I drop everything to go read it. You may know Nemi (the author) from the meta doc – but damn can she write. This one rips my heart out on a daily basis, holds it outside my chest, and then returns it, wrapped in cotton wool. I’m not kidding. It’s so fucking good.

Intent to Cherish by Iffervescent https://archiveofourown.org/works/40304811

What? A/B/O AU with shades of sugar daddy thrown in for fun. Porsche is an atypical omega, and hyperaware of that fact. Kinn wants him really fucking bad – but wants to spoil him more. Complete, 47k.

Why? It lures you in with the promise of scalding hot sex (Iffy’s trademark), only to sucker punch you with fascinating worldbuilding and Kittisawat feels. This fic is so fucking good, guys. This Porsche makes me absolutely lose my mind, and Kinn does too.

cover up, walk away by Ronan Vespertine (Akina1521) https://archiveofourown.org/works/39225051

What? Porsche character study, post-diamond auction. Canon-typical content warnings apply. WIP, 5k, 2/4 chapters posted.

Why? In the aftermath of episode four (and episode five, really, too) I had a lot of feelings about what had happened. In order to process these feelings, I went looking for fic, and cover up was one of the first I found. I enjoyed it a lot, and am secretly waiting for the author to finish it.

whiskey sour by cardamon https://archiveofourown.org/works/39632343

What? Post-canon, a little AU. Kinn and Vegas do business. Pete and Porsche come along. Complete, 1.8k.

Why? It was written before the season finale and it shows, but it’s still pretty fun. All very bloody brutal murder boys. I’d definitely recommend it, if you’re into that.

Tiger Tiger by LuckyDragon https://archiveofourown.org/works/38000350

What? Slight canon divergence, Kinn investigates Porsche and watches him at the fight ring. Small ficlet. Complete, 2k.

Why? I really love Nemi’s Kinn POV. Just a neat ficlet, with a slight AU to it. Could fit into canon.

A Little Wicked by midnightsurge https://archiveofourown.org/works/40197588

What? Canon-divergent AU. Porsche doesn’t sell the watch, and Kinn doesn’t kidnap him to recruit him. That doesn’t mean he’s prepared to leave him alone. Complete, 11k.

Why? I love canon-divergence. It’s one of my favourite tropes. And fics like this are why. They’re so soft in this one – wound-tending, bathing, all the hurt-comfort tropes. And Porsche’s confused horniness for Kinn is great and wonderfully in character – he really gets kissed once and goes, Okay, I guess I like guys now. Good shit.

All for Us by rebellconquerer (@rebellconquerer on tumblr) https://archiveofourown.org/works/40326297

What? Post-canon character study. Porsche gets a new tattoo. Complete, 3.5k.

Why? rebellconquerer writes these fantastic, short snapshots of character interaction. This is no exception. Wonderful fic, wonderful premise, wonderfully executed. If you want more where this came from, check their tumblr.

wrapped around your finger (is my ring) by kittysawat https://archiveofourown.org/works/40793439

What? Fake relationship AU. Kinn hires Porsche to be his fiancé, to dodge an arranged marriage. WIP, 7k.

Why? So I guess Kinnporsche has cured me of my burning apathy for fake dating because I am all over this shit, and it’s only one chapter in. Author-san I am looking with Both My Eyes for your next update.

Machine Gun Kick by majestictortoise (@majestictortoise on tumblr) https://archiveofourown.org/works/40501785

What? Post-canon fic where Porsche investigates the incident at Yok’s bar during the finale -- and his investigation leads him to Kim. Complete, 14k

Why? I live for the Porsche and Kim dynamic, which we didn’t get to see at all in canon. It’s so much funnier if they actually get along. It’s so good. It feeds us so well. Heartfelt, entertaining, well-written. I love this fic so much.

between the sheets by DasWarSchonKaputt (dat’s me) https://archiveofourown.org/works/39409224

What? Fake dating/bodyguard AU. Porsche is hired to pretend to be Kinn’s boyfriend whilst secretly being his bodyguard. Complete, 70k.

Why? Cards on the table, I wrote this. And I think it’s fucking great. I know that sounds arrogant, but I really do rate this one. If you haven’t read it, or even if fake dating’s not really your thing – give it a shot. For me?

#kinnporsche fic rec #this is all incredibly subjective #i don't like leaving comments on ao3 - gives me mad anxiety #so this is i guess my substitute for that #please give these fics and their authors a lot of love #i may have missed some bc i had like 30 ao3 tabs open after going through my history #also there's no vegas/pete on this list bc i do not read fic for them #even kimchay i'm picky about #kinnporsche #i tried to strike a balance between what i feel are fandom classics #and lesser known fic that i've stumbled across #also i had to plug my own fic bc if you don't believe in yourself who will #i've been reliably informed it's good tho #i did this instead of replying to comments bc i'm a rebel #edited to add an author tumblr tag i found upon rereading gone fishing #and also to add machine gun kick #because it was a crime i forgot that one

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jisungsdaydreamer · 1 year

Text

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

Hello and welcome to the Nightmare Zone a.k.a. I was a normal person until I discovered skz and now I make fictional lives a living hell. Just kidding- mostly.

☆ — mature content, ♡ — personal faves

𝐎𝐓𝟖 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒.

LOVE PLAYLIST ♡ — Now playing: heartbreak. Growing up is never easy, especially away from home. As you navigate the ups and downs of college, you encounter the very people who could determine the trajectory of your entire life. Eight boys. Eight stories of loving, losing, and unabashedly living. A compilation of college au one-shots set in the same universe. Ongoing.

...READY FOR IT? ☆ — In the middle of the night, in your dreams, and in the endless paradox that is your life, you're falling apart. But he doesn't seem to mind. From youthful infatuation to insatiable lust, therein lies the death of your reputation. A compilation of one-shots inspired by reputation album by ts. Upcoming.

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍.

TOLERATE IT ♡ — You know your love for your husband should be celebrated, but instead, it’s tolerated. <1k. Angst, established relationship.

UGH! — It’s a truth universally acknowledged that you hate Christopher Bang’s guts. Everything about him, you hate. And that will never, ever change. Ever. 11k. Angst, fluff, college au, enemies to lovers, forced proximity.

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐇𝐎.

DRESS — When Minho buys a really ugly dress for you, but you don't want to hurt his feelings. 1.4k. Fluff, established relationship.

MAKE IT RIGHT ♡ — You and Minho are the golden couple of your university. Well, you were. But love works in strange ways, and now yours needs to be made right. 18.3k. Angst, college au, exes to lovers.

DISTRICT NINE ♡ — For the very first time in his life, eighteen year-old Minho is left to fight his demons alone, far from home and everything dear to him. New places, new people, new things to fear— it's an endless tightrope strung by the unknown. But what Minho does not know is that he will never walk it alone. 4.k. Angst, hurt/comfort, college au.

COWBOY LIKE ME— How can falling in love with someone feel so right? How could it ever be wrong? Smut, angst, Hollywood au, non modern au. Upcoming.

𝐒𝐄𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐍.

NO MAN'S LAND — After a disastrous shipwreck out at sea, Changbin should have died. But you saved him. 3.6k. Mermaid/pirate au.

𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍.

[6:39 PM] — Your best friend will always be there for you, but you have no idea about how he truly feels. <1k. Angst, fluff, college au, friends to lovers.

THE HAPPIEST DAY OF HER LIFE — He'll always smile for you, even if he feels his heart breaking. <1k. Angst.

ANTI-ROMANTIC ☆ ♡ — After a lifetime of heartbreak, you try your chance at romance for one last time, meeting up with L.A.’s most beloved dating coach, Dr. Hwang Hyunjin. Lines are crossed and strange events ensue. Series. Smut, fluff, romcom, opposites attract. Ongoing.

CHARMER ☆ — As a detective, Hyunjin’s life is centered around lying and fabricating his own version of the truth. After all, to catch a mastermind, you have to be a mastermind yourself. Smut, angst, detective/crime au, thriller, psychological. Upcoming.

𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆.

[2:49 AM] — You love your husband more than anything, but you can forget about a good night’s sleep. <1k. Fluff, established relationship.

GHOST OF YOU ♡ — He’s gone from your dimension now, but there’s nothing stopping him from finding his own world. 1.3k. Angst, horror, supernatural au.

HOME — Jisung. Your roommate. Your resident idiot. Your very best friend and nothing more. Until one night, everything changes. 7k. Fluff, college au, friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, mutual pining.

SWEET, SWEET — Jisung as your rockstar boyfriend who worships the ground you walk on. 2.5k. Smut, fluff, established relationship.

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍.

[11:10 PM] — Your father would end you before allowing you to see him, but you’d spin in your highest heels and risk everything if it meant every night could be like this. 1k. Fluff, angst, forbidden romance.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍.

[ENDING SCENE]— You loved him so much that you let him go. 1.4k. Angst.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒.

BOYFRIEND JISUNG BOYFRIEND HYUNJIN STRAY KIDS WHEN THEY HAVE A CRUSH ON YOU STRAY KIDS AS YOUR HIGH SCHOOL ROMANCE STRAY KIDS AS SHOPAHOLICS

«𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍» · «𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄» · «𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓»

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natsukicookies · 8 months

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"Step into the captivating world of 'Love Unlocked' where the boundaries between reality and fiction blur in the most unexpected way. Follow the journey of a young girl who meets an untimely demise only to awaken in a realm beyond imagination. Transported into the pages of a manga titled 'Blue Lock,' she discovers that her new life resembles a gaming experience, complete with status screens, quests, and unlockable romantic interests.

As she navigates this surreal existence, our protagonist realizes that she is no ordinary character. Residing in the narrative as Ego Jinpachi's younger sister, her path is intertwined with the manga's storyline, presenting both challenges and opportunities. With every quest she undertakes, she gains experience and levels up, each step revealing new facets of her character's depth and unlocking a range of potential romantic partners.

Side note: this series is gonna be long and i mean it. Long like more than 90k words

℘ꭈׁׅᨵׁׅᥣׁׅ֪ᨵׁׅᧁׁυׁׅꫀׁׅܻ

Chapter 1: Siblings in Play: A Kick of Connection

Chapter 2: Embracing Digital Mysteries: Unveiling Love and Identity

Chapter 3: New task: Weaving New Connections

Chapter 4: missing keychain: playing detective and getting a new friend

Chapter 5: the promises we made the kiss we had

Chapter 6: new year, new hell

Chapter 7: the itoshi bros

Chapter 8: hearts eyes and the error in the system!

Chapter 9: ice cream on the t shirt

Chapter 10: Turquoise Twinkle: A Day in the World of Soccer and Surprises

Chapter 11:

Chapter 12

Chapter 13???

Chapter 14??

Comment if you wanna be in the tag list

#reader insert #x reader #fluff #x yn #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #rin x reader #itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itadori x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #bachira x reader #reverse harem

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roseaesynstylae · 15 days

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So, the idea of the Bad Batch (minus Echo, plus Emerie) being the other half of the Nulls has consumed my goddamn mind. Therefore, as you do when an idea takes up residence in your frontal lobe for the foreseeable future, here's some headcanons.

The Bad Batch (except for Echo and Omega, who have no clue what's going on) hate the Nulls. As in, "murder on sight" hate them. From an in-universe perspective, there could be a myriad of reasons, ranging from feelings of abandonment to resentment over them having a better life. From a writer's standpoint, it's because I love me some good old familial dysfunction and angst.

The more...unhinged...tendencies the Nulls are known for manifests in the Bad Batch more as "let's jump off this cliff and use explosives to direct our fall!" and less as "hey, check out my new skin gloves!" Of course, if you push them too far, it's a different story. In order of least to most likely to pull a "lemme turn you into an art installation," it's Omega, Wrecker, Hunter, Crosshair, and Tech. Omega wouldn't do that, at least not at this point in her life. Wrecker, when enraged, goes for the just-hit-them solution. Hunter's a decent human being and usually wouldn't do something like that...Unless his kid's been kidnapped by a crazy Imperial doctor for the fifteenth time, on which point he starts becoming a little deranged. Crosshair hovers close to the line but wouldn't do it to someone unprovoked. Tech is a special case, in that he has to be pushed, but when he is, the results make the rest of the Nulls go "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST."

The Nulls want to reunite with their lost siblings and build a relationship, but that's kind of hard to do when said siblings (except Omega) keep trying to kill them on sight and none of them were built for intricate and deeply complicated emotional issues. Still, they persist. Eventually, they could probably get to the level of "awkward conversations" but it'll take a lot of work.

The Bad Batch have what makes the Nulls superior to regular clone troopers, plus their unique enhancements (which in this version are less defects and more Nala Se picking an attribute for each of them and cranking it up to 11). They feel that it makes them better than the Nulls, something they're not shy about expressing.

Emerie is the same height as her estranged (I can't think of a word that applies to this specific situation but this one will do) brothers, because I stan a tall queen.

Nala Se is smug as hell whenever she sees Orun Wa. "CT-9904 just broke all records for accuracy, CT-9902 discovered a new element, CT-9903 crushed beskar like it was paper, and CT-9901 tracked a man through five systems and a solar storm. What are your clones doing, again?"

There is no understating the sheer "wtf" that goes through the Nulls' heads when they first see Omega. But, of course, this is Omega. Imagine the cutest image of her you've seen, fanart or canon. That's what the Nulls see when they meet her. Unsurprisingly, the Nulls, who got the Mandalorian gene to adopt anything that isn't nailed down, go from "wtf" to "so smol 🥰" in roughly a minute.

Kal Skirata is in the corner. His attempt to interact with the Bad Batch did not go well. He casually calls Hunter "son," as he does with various characters, and the resulting explosion puts a thermal detonator to shame. Since it's clear that his presence is not making things better, he's sort of just in the corner.

The rest of Clan Skirata, and associates, are staying out of this. Gilamar and Vau took one look and retreated to the bar because they know better than to get involved. Everyone else witnessed one of the less acrimonious encounters and collectively decided that they are not jumping into the emotional equivalent of a pit of rabid wolverines.

Echo is the go-between. He does not want to be the go-between. But he's the only neutral party in this thing aside from Omega, and the rest of the Batch don't trust the Nulls with her.

Spare a though for 99. He raised four of these guys, often with the aid of leashes. Truly, he is an unsung hero of the Clone Wars

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artiststarme · 1 year

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What If Steve Were To Leave Hawkins? Part 17

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Just a few more parts! What happens next, should Steve have a talk with everybody, should there be more Eddie/Steve mush? We shall see! Let me know what you guys think!

And Happy Valentine's Day to everyone!

~*~*~*~

Steve was nervous. It was a new feeling for him and certainly not a welcome one. Apparently, Dustin had walkied the other kids while he was in the bathroom and had arranged a “small get together” with the rest of the Party. Hence the anxiety. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see the kids. But, he hadn’t seen any of them in the few months since he’d moved away and he was not looking forward to seeing their reactions. Would they be upset and yell at him just like they had yelled at Eddie? Or would they be upset since he’s stealing Eddie and Robin from them too? He didn’t know what to expect from the remaining members of the group which put him on edge. Steve had never liked putting himself in situations where he didn’t know what to expect.

Regardless of his apprehension, he loaded Eddie, Robin, and Dustin into the Beemer and made his way towards the Hopper-Byers residence. It was woefully apparent to the others that Steve was nervous. He was driving 10 mph under the speed limit and kept raking a hand through the swoop of his hair. At the fourth hair disturbance, Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand in his and settled it on his knee. “Stevie, it’ll be fine. They obviously want to see you if they planned all this. Relax.”

Dustin poked his head between the first two seats and glared menacingly at Steve. “And speed up! You’re moving slower than grandpa and he’s dead! Go!”

Steve heard Robin smack Dustin and pull him back from his position, “My god, Dustin. What the hell? Be respectful of the dead. Wow.”

“Oh, like I’m wrong? He’s going like 20 mph in a 40! Going too slow is just as dangerous as driving too fast, Robin…”

He ignored their squabbling and sped up to match the speed limit. Trying to waste time by driving slowly wasn’t going to help anything. He focused on the feel of Eddie’s hand in his own and let the worry seep out of him. Eddie was right, of course. The kids had to be happy to see him, right? Dustin certainly was. Also, bar Mike and Max, the remaining kids were angels. There was rarely any sass from Will, Lucas, or El. Mike and Max could be heathens and their insults could be biting. Even if they were mad though, they were all still his kids and he would own up to his actions. If anything, they were probably hurt and would need reassurance. Unlike what his parents had done for him, he could provide them with that.

Immediately when they pulled into the driveway, everyone flooded from the house. Most everyone had smiles on their faces and laughter in their mouths. Lucas, Will, and El ran directly to Steve while Mike and Max walked at a more sedate pace behind their friends.

When they reached him, Lucas, Will, and El engulfed Steve in a group hug. They were thrilled to see him after losing him so abruptly. They all hugged for a moment and appreciated each other’s presence before they pulled away.

“It is nice to see you, Steve.” El said. Will nodded at her words and mumbled his own little hello accompanied by an awkward wave. They might not be the closest members of the Party but they both loved each other still and Will was still happy to see another part of his family.

Lucas clapped Steve on the shoulder and redirected his attention to him, “good to see you Steve. We were worried about you but we’re glad you’re okay.”

Their relationship was often overlooked when compared to the others but Lucas always looked up to the man that had saved him from the racist bully trying to beat his face in. He had admired Steve since he helped them at the junkyard and took Billy’s plate to the head. And with that admiration came the subtle mimicry. Just like Mike with Eddie, Lucas had tried to share in Steve’s interests by practicing basketball with him and joining the team at school.

Steve smiled back at them. Mike glared at him from several paces away but his teenage moodiness was easily ignored in the face of Max’s subtle excitement. In true Max fashion, she slugged him in the arm, hard enough to make him wince. “Don’t do that again, dickhead. We thought you got your dumbass killed. Let us know when you’re going somewhere next time.”

Steve chuckled at her words but did feel somewhat chastened. “Sorry Max.”

She nodded her head and narrowed her eyes at him before giving him a brief hug, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He nodded with his chin resting on her head, “me too.”

Hopper and Joyce came outside next, following the kids. Hopper was wearing a hideous Hawaiian shirt with flamingos on it while Joyce was wearing a green flannel two sizes too big. But both looked full of love, and slightly menacing, as they charged at Steve.

Joyce wrapped him in a motherly hug when she reached him and cooed, “Steve! Oh, you’re so thin! Have you been taking care of yourself?”

Steve smiled awkwardly at the open affection he rarely received from parents, “Eddie’s been taking good care of me. Thanks for throwing this together, it's nice to see everybody.”

“Of course, Steve! You’re family.” She said and lightly pinched his cheek.

Hopper grabbed him next. His face was a mixture of exasperation and parental affection as he hugged him close. Steve was surprised to find tears in his eyes when he pulled away. “What? Hop-”

Hopper placed a hand at the back of his neck and looked Steve straight in the eye. “Don’t do that again. You going off on your own without telling anybody took ten years off my life. You can’t just disappear like that. I expect you to stay in contact with us the entire time, got it? You’re like a son to me, kid. I don’t want to lose you again.”

Steve bit his lip as he struggled to keep his own tears in. He nodded stiltedly and reached out for another hug from Hopper. There was no reluctance from him and the other Party members made their way inside in an effort to give them a moment alone. Steve never considered how his departure from Hawkins might affect his found family. Even when he was settled in the city, he hadn’t thought to reach out to the Chief to let him know he was alright. But now, comfortable and safe in the arms of his father figure, Steve knew that he couldn’t just disappear like he did before. He might be moving but now he knew that the Party loved him and he would always have a place here amongst his family.

~*~*~*~

To the people on the taglist; are you guys still being notified when I post a new part? I think these tags are active but I tried putting them in the comments and it didn’t work. Please let me know! Hope you guys enjoy this part!

Part 18 Part 19 Part 20: Epilogue

Updated Taglist: @nickavalens @conversesweetheart @themostunoriginalpersonever @swimmingbirdrunningrock @eddiethegreatteddybear @harrumphingtons @call-me-big-eyes @moonshadows-13 @glittergluekintsugi @cpidcupk @doubleb11 @mentalcyborg @amoris-no-smut-allowed @purple-lemonade @labels-are-for-the-weak @thebrazilianatheist @rajumat @livelaughlexa @5ammi90 @colorful565 @marvelousforlife @chaoticcoffeequeen @gregre369 @suddenlyinlove @thegreatmistake @stillfullofshit @nburkhardt @batxsignalsx @newunknowns @thosemessyvibes @tailsfromthecrypt @luciana-rowan @bird-with-pencils @adaed5 @lolawon @flustratedcas @iwillfindmyneverland @messrs-weasley @skoomy-doompy @yearningagain @forest-fogg @bitchysunflower @stardust-era @newtstabber @bobatrash-queen @notjasontxdd @ohlook-afrog @00biscuit @grtwdsmwhr @oxidantdreamboat @the-witch-forever-lives @estrellami-1 @whatthemeepever @a-simple-gaywitch @imzadidragonfly @freddykicksasses @krimsonsimp

@whatthefuccck @delta-piscium @anaibis @tinynebula @darkwitchoferie @evix-syne666 @tawghasa @pyrohonk @lillys-weird-world @superduckmilkshake @paintsplatteredandimperfect @tiny-enthusiast @whalesharksart @krazyperson @username-i-guess @ilikechocolatemilkh @awkwardgravity1 @romanticdestruction

#awww Steve is back with his family!#don't mind Dustin being a sarcastic little shit again lol #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #steddie #fanfic #mike wheeler #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #stanger things #chief jim hopper #joyce byers

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klausinamarink · 5 months

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One Kid Gone, Another Up and Vanished (part 11)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 next: Part 12 | ao3

forcing myself to do a smaller chapter this time. Now if some of ya are still interested in this silly au, we’re back with Eddie!

When the haze finally departs from his mind, the first thing Eddie registers is Ronnie James Dio keening softly in his ears about dying young. Then he blinks his burning eyes open, an unfamiliar ceiling appearing from above through the static in his vision.

He just stares at the ceiling, watching the spores float around in the air. Then he feels the rest of his body starting to wake up and demands movement. As Eddie slowly turns his head, the staticy vision fades in and out. He blinks again, this time figuring out his new surroundings.

He’s in a different house, laying back on a couch. This room doesn’t look like anywhere at the trailer’s or the Byers residence. There’s still a ton of vines sprawled on the walls and furniture. And there’s Will sitting at a small table next to him.

Eddie observes him for a moment. The kid is muttering quietly to himself, sketching something on paper. Their backpacks and spears are carefully placed next to the chair’s feet. There’s one stuffed handbag Eddie doesn’t remember carrying with them, but that’ll be saved for a later conversation.

Eddie opens his mouth, only to shut it when a headache suddenly spikes through his temple. He waits for it to pass, realizing how parched and ashy his mouth is. Against any better judgement, he tries to speak again.

“Whatcha doing, Little Byers?” His voice sounds rough, just barely scraping itself out of his mouth.

Will stops murmuring, freezing in his chair. He slowly turns, his eyes looking too large for his head with the dark shadows underneath them. It takes another moment before Eddie registers the rest of Will’s appearance. With slightly sunken cheeks, cracked lips, and matted hair, he looks like a flu victim. If he listens closely, Eddie can hear Will’s lungs quietly rattling from every breath.

Something twists in Eddie’s stomach. It’s close to nausea but he forces himself to just breathe even in the toxic air. But then he’s hyper aware of his own lungs, wheezing out air through his lips with the same rattling effort as Will’s. Another cough is tickling at the bottom of his throat. The goosebumps are still agitating his skin from the ever-cold temperatures.

They’ve been in this hell realm for days and only now did the state of their health just come to Eddie’s mind.

Before Eddie curses himself further, Will flies out of his chair. His arms wrap tight around Eddie’s neck, almost choking him out. But Eddie stays conscious, hugging Will as tightly as he can.

Will doesn’t say anything at all, which brings Eddie’s anxiety up. But Will is smiling at him with watery eyes when he pulls away without breaking their hold, “Are you okay?”

Eddie thinks about the vivid echoes of Wayne’s truck blazing out of the trailer park. How his useless wailing for his uncle had just made Eddie sink into whatever place in his brain that makes everything quiet and separated from his body like a marionette its strings cut off the limbs. He gives Will a small smile of his own, “I’m okay now.”

But then Will frowns, though not unkindly, “You weren’t.”

“Little Byers-”

“You weren’t okay, Eddie.” Will’s lip is wobbling, biting into the skin hard enough that it starts bleeding. “You can’t just say you’re fine when you’re not. You can just tell me that you felt awful!”

Eddie scrubs a hand over his face. He’s both feeling angry and exhausted, the latter winning its favor. He wants to tear his throat out and let every bleeding piece show he’s feeling more than just awful. He wants to go home from this fucking nightmare and hug Wayne again.

Walk Away’s guitar intro starts playing. Eddie tries to get the headphones off him but Will helps him with it, pausing the album. Not even Black Sabbath can scab over his new emotional pit of misery.

Eddie doesn’t look at Will or at the ceiling or the room. Just at that black space whenever he squeezes his eyes shut.

There’s a sniffle from Will before his weight climbs on top of Eddie. It takes a second for Eddie to catch his breath from the new pressure, but by instinct, he’s already hugging Will again.

For a while, Eddie thinks he’s really fine until Will quietly says with puffs of warm air on his bare neck, “You’re allowed to have a bad day. I promise I’m not mad at you for it.”

If Eddie’s tightening hold and his poor attempts to choke down another sob bothers Will, he doesn’t say it. He only shuffles his position so he’s slightly curled on his side, small hands clutching onto Eddie’s.

God, Eddie doesn’t deserve this kid.

But the last time he said something like that, it had been about Wayne and look where he is now.

Eddie dry swallows the taste of dirt-tinted salt water, starting another round of silence. Then it breaks by Will’s muffled statement, “I kinda want to punch your uncle’s knees.”

Eddie emits a tormenting sound out of his mouth, “What?”

Will has the audacity to shrug. “He left you. Grownups are tall so I can just punch his knees.”

Eddie stares up at the ceiling for a different reason. “Jesus H- Okay, I appreciate your willingness, but Uncle Wayne already has a knee problem. So, don’t like, hurt him.”

“Oh.” Will is quiet for another moment. Then, “I’ll hit his elbow.”

This time, Eddie can’t hold back the laughter. It’s a wheezy sound that almost breaks his chest. But it’s the first time since he first woke up that he feels a small warmth in his chest. Could just because Will’s on top of him, trying to regenerate their body heat, but whatever.

It’s really nice not to be alone. Even though Eddie painfully yearns for Wayne’s return.

Eventually, their giggles die down and the basement is hushed. Eddie attempts to stretch his legs out at last, but his left ankle feels weirdly sore. He tries to move it yet it stays stuck in place. With something wrapped around it.

Eddie jerks up, forcing Will off him. He immediately catches sight of one of the vines on the other end of the couch, already traveling as high as his calf.

He throws himself off, screeching as if it’ll scare the vine away. It doesn’t. His vicious kicks prompting it to squeeze tighter and tug firmly. How could’ve Eddie missed it getting him? Had it been limp on the couch until he somehow jostled it?

Will appears at his feet, a hand outstretched to the vine. Eddie opens his mouth to yell at him to get away, remembering the last time Will tried to stab an hellish organism. But instead of a spear, Will has a Zippo lighter that he flicks open. A small flame manifests and instantly makes contact with the vine.

It might as well have been a flamethrower because the vine makes a tiny squeeee noise and withdraws from Eddie’s ankle. He’s more quick in scooting away from the couch, taking Will with him by the collar.

They held each other with heavy breaths, staring at the vine. It’s slithering slowly on the ground but soon goes motionless. Eddie looks around the basement and at the dozens of vines on the walls, some of them barely crossing the ground. Then he remembers what Will had said about the vines being a hivemind.

Eddie takes a careful breath, gulping dry air and ashy saliva, “What say, Little Byers, exactly are we?”

Will’s probably shaking more than Eddie in his arms, but he keeps his voice strong, “M-Mike’s house. My best friend’s.” Eddie can see his hand flexing to a paler color, still holding the Zippo lighter. That he will also need to ask about later.

“Agree for a quick retract?”

Will gives a short nod and that’s all Eddie needs.

They’re quick and careful in grabbing the bags and spears, both of them eying the Eddie-Snatch Vine. It stays still but Eddie swears it twitches. There’s a few vines littering the basement stairs that Will easily jumps over. But Eddie sticks to the tiptoes, mainly because his ankle feels like it’s burning. Like something’s been imprinted onto it and he’ll roll the cuff up to find a Mind Flayer seal or whatnot.

He does his best to ignore that.

Once they’re out of the basement, the two make a run towards the front door just as it closes on the Other Side and a woman speaks.

“Nancy, just where on- oh!”

“We’re just going to be in my room, Mom.” So this is Nancy Wheeler. She sounds sullen as her voice carries up the quiet stairs, “Please leave us alone.”

“Oh, alright… But is there any reason why you’re also here, Jonathan?”

Will whirls around just at the base of the stairs. He makes a startled sound like air has been sucked into his mouth. Whatever Jonathan Byers says is too quiet for Eddie’s ears but his answer seems to satisfy Mrs. Wheeler. Their voices almost immediately fade away.

Will stares up like the stairs were the Stairway to Heaven itself. When he drags his eyes away towards Eddie, he knows exactly what they’re going to do.

This is unfair! A part of Eddie’s mind yells at him. Why did Will’s brother have to be here but not Wayne?

Eddie mentally shuts his question down and silently answers Will’s.

As they diligently trudge up the stairs, Eddie catches Mrs. Wheeler’s muttered complaints about the lights going weird.

@unclewaynemunson @steves-strapcollection @hellion-child @sidekick-hero @mmmmwaffles94 @hbyrde36 @princessstevemunson @sirsnacksalot @tartarusknight @lyriclight @penny00dreadful @kodaik97 @plsdontdrinkmylavalamp @bookbinderbitch @gutterflower77 @soaringorinthopher @angeldreamsoffanfic @panicatthediaz @renaissan-vvitch @manda-panda-monium @newtstabber @little-trash-ghost @niniel-karenine @tinyplanet95

#absolutely nothing else will happen next…#but what about that vine you ask? wouldn’t that attract *something* towards them?#to that i say #*hbomberguy voice* foreshadowing is a literacy device in which—#eddie and will in the upside down au #klaus writes #eddie munson #will byers #stranger things

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pagingdrkaraii · 1 year

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ubícate: vives en un país tercermundista

#karaii art #procrastination comics #real life adventures #residency hell more news at 11

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sourwolf-sterek32 · 9 months

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Alpha’s First Daughter

Summary: You had been on your own for years after escaping the Whisperers. Until you run into a hunter in the woods who's searching for his brother.

The Walking Dead rewrite from Season 9 to Season 11 with you, Y/N, as Daryl Dixon's eventual love interest.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: language, violence

Chapter 28-

"Y/N? Hey, are you awake yet?" Someone close questioned.

"Why isn't she waking up? Everyone else has woken up. Is she okay?" A different voice asked.

"I-I don't know. I mean, I think she already had a concussion... maybe the chemicals from the chloroform reacted badly." The other voice responded.

Those voices sounded familiar. And you felt as if you were meant to recognise them, but you couldn't.

The pounding in your head was the first real thing you noticed other than the distorted voices causing you to wince.

"Y/N? Can you hear me?" The voice said again. Clearer this time.

You knew that voice.

Ezekiel.

Slowly, you blinked your eyes open, but everything was blurry for a few painfully long seconds as you squinted and looked around only to realise that you were sitting in a bus and your hands were tied together in your lap.

What the fuck?

"Easy. Easy. We were all drugged. How are you feeling?" Ezekiel asked, bringing your attention back to him.

"Peachy." You mumbled, blinking away the fuzziness in your eyes.

"Is she okay?" Negan's voice questioned from somewhere behind you.

So, he was the other mystery voice. Noted.

"I'm fine. What the fuck happened?" You grunted, glancing behind you and realising that the bus was full of people that used to live in Alexandria and Hilltop.

You didn't know them all by name. But you recognised every single one of them and you had a very terrible feeling about what was going to happen.

Suddenly, the front door of the bus opened, and a man stepped inside, his eyes raking over all of you before he began to speak.

"Good morning, and welcome. Today is the first day of a new beginning. The world works when everyone knows their place. Your place is at the bottom. All of the resources that we use to bring the world back into the new and sustain it, it all starts at places like this."

You zoned out the man's speech for a moment as you looked around trying to find something to use as a weapon, but there was nothing on this damn bus.

"-here nobody has a name because we have no need for them. I'm not gonna tell you mine, and you will not address each other by yours. When I point at you, you stand up. You exit the rear. You. You..." The man began to point as he walked down the aisle in the middle of the bus before his finger landed on you, "and you."

Zeke glanced over at you worriedly, but you just gave him a small reassuring smile, despite not knowing what was instore for you.

You stood up, stumbling slightly as the bus began to spin, but you blinked away your sudden dizziness before you began walking towards the back exit where more guards were waiting to escort you onto a different bus.

Princess, Magna and Nabila were already in the bus, their eyes widening when they saw you. But none of you said anything, remaining quiet as you sat next to Princess.

The bus took you to the place that you least expected, Alexandria.

The Commonwealth had taken over Alexandria, put up their own signs and flags and were now using its old residents to do their manual labour work. If you weren't so worried about Daryl and the kids, you would have laughed at how ironic that was.

Daryl and the kids had been nearby when you and Princess were captured, but they hadn't been on that bus. Did Daryl managed to get the kids and escape? You had absolutely no idea, but you were hoping like hell that they were okay.

There wasn't much you could do except follow the soldier's orders. There was way too many of them to try and fight your way out of this thing, plus, your weapons were gone. So, you had to bid your time and wait.

You weren't sure how much time past at Alexandria. The days blurring together. Work, eat, sleep, and start again.

"Get up! Everybody outside! Move! Move!" Soldiers suddenly shouted, storming into your tents in the middle of the night.

Sleeping on the rocky floor inside the shared tents with the other 'workers' wasn't great, but the only good thing about it was that the soldiers never came inside, until now. Something was wrong, that much was evident by their angry tones.

"What's going on?" You whispered, hurriedly getting to your feet.

"No freaking idea, man. Nothing good." Princess responded quietly before the soldiers grabbed you both by your arms and practically dragged you outside with the others.

There was a large spotlight mounted atop of the windmill at the far side of the community where the leader was waiting impatiently as the soldiers led you all towards him.

"There is a traitor in our midst." The man announced, once you were all standing in front of him. "Someone who thinks he's above the rules. This prisoner has admitted to spearheading a rebellion."

Suddenly, two soldiers emerged from the darkness with Negan between them and you frowned in confusion as they forced him to kneel on the ground in front of you all.

"Any co-conspirators will be given the benefit of the doubt. I trust they were not acting of their own free will. So only he will be punished. But it's important that you're all here to see. To remember."

His wife tried to rush over to him, but the other soldiers held her back while you watched on helplessly.

"This is what happens when you forget your place. Take your positions." The man ordered.

Four of his soldiers then lined up in front of Negan with their guns raised and ready, waiting for the order.

They were going to execute him. They were going to murder him right in front of you all. Right in front of his pregnant wife... oh, okay, now that was a little too familiar.

Negan killed Glenn in front of his pregnant wife all those years ago...

How the tables have turned.

Except, you hadn't known that Negan. You've heard all the stories from Daryl about him. But the Negan you first met back in Alexandria, he was and is a different man to the one Daryl and the other Alexandrians describe. He had changed during his time locked up. Some people had refused to believe it, like Maggie, which you understood. She would probably want to be here to watch this happen, but you didn't.

Negan cared about you. He had saved your ass more times than you could count over the last couple of years and although Daryl probably didn't like it much, Negan was your friend, and you didn't want to watch him die like this.

"Ready. Aim." The man ordered, snapping you out of your thoughts as you looked back at Negan who was actually grinning. "There are no martyrs here."

The grin was wiped clean off Negan's face after those words before the man suddenly grabbed Annie and shoved her to the ground beside him.

Oh, God. Not her too.

"No! No! That wasn't our deal! Take me! Take me!" Negan screamed, thrashing against the restraints around his wrists.

"You will feel this punishment!"

"This is not what you said! No! You take me! Just me!" He continued to shout, but it was falling on deaf ears.

"Do you trust me?" Zeke whispered, leaning over to you.

You nodded without hesitation before he nodded at you to follow him. You followed him blindly, not knowing what he had planned, but it was better than doing nothing and watching them get executed.

Ezekiel walked over and planted himself between the soldiers and Negan and his wife, and you were quick to follow, standing beside him as you eyed the barrels of the guns cautiously. Magna, Kelly and Princess followed and did the same, until there was a whole group of you standing protectively in front of Negan and Annie.

Nobody said anything for a few seconds before the leader stepped forward, staring at you all with an unreadable expression.

"I admire your bravery, prisoners. Shoot them all."

The remaining crowd all gasped as the soldiers cocked their weapons before Zeke raised his hands towards them and began to do what he always did best. Speak.

"You don't have to do this! This world is broken, but we don't have to be."

One of the soldiers lowered his weapon, the others then following suit like a ripple effect. Then, everything happened so quickly.

The soldier that lowered his gun first suddenly aimed his rifle at the leader, causing the other soldiers to turn their sights on him. The soldier quickly shot one of them but before anything else could happen, the leader suddenly grabbed your hand and yanked you away from everyone else, using your body as a human shield while holding a gun to your head.

"No!" Zeke shouted, rushing towards the leader.

"Stop! Stop! Or I will shoot her!" He shouted, pressing the gun harder against your head before suddenly letting go of you all together and you spun around, ready to fight, only to come face to face with Daryl who yanked his knife out the man's skull.

Your knight in shining armour... or your hunter in a leather vest. Same difference.

"Are you okay? Did they hurt ya?" Daryl asked, cupping your face with his hands as you shook your head. "Ya sure?"

"I'm fine, Dixon. I'm okay."

Daryl sighed with relief before he pulled you into his chest and you hugged him back as he held you tightly, like he was almost afraid to let go. You had never missed the smell of his motor oil vest more than you did right now as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, hugging him.

"Negan! Don't kill him!" Rosita suddenly shouted.

You pulled away from Daryl to find Negan standing up from where he was about to bash the leaders face in with a rock to finish the job before Rosita marched forward, her eyes ablaze with fury.

"Where's my daughter?"

The man didn't answer though, so Rosita grabbed one of his dead soldiers who was starting to come back from the dead if the growling and snarling you could hear was any indication.

"Where the hell is she?!" Rosita demanded, holding the walker inches away from his head. "Tell me where she is! Where is she?!"

"You... will... lose everything." The man groaned, smirking with bloodied teeth at her before she released the walker, and you watched as it bit a chunk of his cheek off while he screamed.

By sunrise the following morning, you had taken Alexandria back. Some of the kids that were taken were found in the buildings, but other kids, like Rosita's daughter and Nabila's children were still missing and suspected to be back in the Commonwealth.

After finding all your weapons stashed in large wooden crates, you loaded up the buses with everything, getting ready to go and find the kids.

"Y/N?" Daryl suddenly called out.

You turned around, moving a little too quickly for your head to handle. The world around you spun for a moment as you grabbed hold of the porch railing to steady yourself.

"Yeah?" You asked, looking over at him, trying to play it cool, but by the look on his face, he knew exactly what happened.

"I need ya to stay here."

Yeah, you should have seen that coming.

"You aren't sidelining me for this, Dixon." You stated sternly.

"You're still recovering from that bad concussion. 'N I was talkin' to Ezekiel earlier 'n he said that you were still gettin' dizzy whenever ya bent down to pick up a stupid log for these people."

"Well, Ezekiel needs to mind his own damn business because I'm fine."

"Then why are ya holdin' onto the rail?" Daryl asked, raising his eyebrows at you.

You quickly removed your hand from the porch railing, but you knew Daryl was right. If you went with them, you would just be a liability and do more harm than good.

"You need backup." You tried to argue, but it was a weak argument. There was an entire two busloads of people for backup.

"Please. For me. Just stay here."

"Plus, someone needs to protect this place in case more Commonwealth soldiers show up." Carol said, joining the two of you by the house.

You looked between the two of them for a moment before sighing. "Okay. Fine. I'll stay."

"If Y/N isn't going, then I should go." Judith suddenly said, walking out the house with her katana and bag over her shoulder, RJ following behind.

"No." Daryl instantly said, shaking his head.

"But-"

"I need you here. Helpin' Y/N protect these people."

"That's crap." Judith responded bluntly, looking over at you before focusing back on her uncle. "This isn't the future my brother wanted. Not what my mum and dad fought for. Not yet. What we're doing could help everyone. Not just us, but maybe everybody everywhere. I want to be a part of that. To make what my family believed in real."

Nobody said anything for a few seconds before you leant close to Daryl and whispered, "she's a miniature Rick."

Daryl just glared at you because your comment was not helping the situation, but you just smiled because well, if he wanted you to stay behind then he can deal with his niece being stubborn.

"We've all been so focused on what's right in front of us for so long. You're thinking about what's after. It's a good thing. Maybe we could all do a little more of that." Carol responded, looking down at the girl proudly.

Oh, so she agreed to let Judith go, but wanted you to stay here? That made perfect sense. Great.

"Alright, but you stay right with me, okay?" Daryl reluctantly said and Judith quickly nodded, clearly not expecting to win that argument.

"Let's go!" Rosita shouted from the buses.

You glanced over your shoulder, watching everyone all pile into the vehicle before you turned back to Daryl who stepped forward and pulled you into his chest.

"You gonna be okay?" He whispered, kissing the top of your head.

"I'll be fine. You guys be careful, alright?" You said, pulling away from him and looking over at Judith and Carol who both nodded.

You watched them leave, closing the gate of Alexandria behind them before you slowly climbed the ladder up onto the watch platform. You were surprised to find an old lawn chair up on the platform, and you silently thanked whoever carried that wonderful piece of furniture up here.

You made yourself comfortable on the chair, your handgun in your lap as you stared out at the road and woods around the community on high alert.

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myreia · 3 months

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Divergence of the Heart

CHAPTER FIVE: THOSE OF NOBLE STOCK

Chapter Rating: Teen (full story rating is Explicit) Characters: Aureia Malathar (WoL), Aymeric de Borel, Thancred Waters, Hilda Ware Pairings: Aureia/Aymeric, Aureia/Thancred, Thancred/Hilda Chapter Words: 7,127 Notes: Set during the Heavensward patches. Summary: Aureia Malathar may have made a name for herself in Ishgard, but her deeds come with a hefty personal toll. Despite her victories at the Grand Melee she has never felt more unsure of herself. Her relationship with Thancred—the person she thought knew her the best—is strained, yet she cannot abandon him. Aymeric is falling for her harder with each passing day, yet she cannot bring herself to accept it. All may be fair in love and war, but at least war is predictable. Love on the other hand… Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 Read on AO3

Aureia lingers in the shadows, huddled in her coat, breath misting in the night air as she stares up at the building looming before her. Like all the estates befitting the Ishgardian nobility, the Borel Manor is an imposing display of high arches and ornate decorations. Elegant spires reach for the heavens, black against a sea of twinkling stars, and stained-glass windows glow with a welcoming and lively warmth from within. A handful of steadfast guards patrol the gate, attentively surveying the street for signs of trouble. Though this part of the Pillars is hardly prone to bustling activity, there is good reason for the Lord Commander’s residence to have tighter security than most.

Though Aymeric himself may be keen to forget it, the attempted assassination is fresh in many of his inner circle’s minds. Ishgard may be more acclimatized to its new state now the Dragonsong War is well and truly over, but swift and drastic political changes do not come without a price. The chances of some disgruntled adversary trying again are too great to ignore.

She sighs, shivering in the cold, and tucks her hands into her armpits. The thick leather sits oddly on her shoulders, suffocatingly heavy and offering little warmth. She is beginning to regret wearing the damn thing. The more she thinks on it, the more she feels as though strolling up to his manor armed and in her combat gear will turn what was supposed to be a relaxing dinner between friends into a glorified business meeting.

And maybe this is all that it is, she thinks, knowing full-well it is not.

What is her personal relationship to Aymeric anyway? They have circled each other for more than a year, true, but it was always within the context of greater—yet impersonal—events. Politics, battle, the birth of a nation’s new era… How does one become friends through events as momentous as that? This is not like her bond with Estinien, informed by weeks of reluctant travel and time spent snapping at and figuratively stepping on one another’s toes until begrudging respect set in.

This is different. This is…

Stop it. Stop fooling yourself. You practically proposed this dinner as much as he did and you want to back out now? So what if he might be in love with you? Is that truly such an awful thing? What in the seven hells is wrong with you?

“Can I help you, mistress?”

Aureia jerks back and instinctively reaches for her rapier, eyes wide as she stares the young Elezen guard in the face. “No, I—I’m fine, thank you.”

He glances at her weapon. “Then I must ask that you move along,” he warns sternly. “This is no place for idle loitering.”

Her surprise evaporates in an instant. “I am here to see Ser Aymeric.”

“Is that so? The Lord Commander does not accept audiences in his private home, and certainly not from wandering adventurers.” The tone of dismissal is impossible to ignore as his gaze lands on her rapier. “I must ask again that you move along.”

She flushes. Most times she would be pleased that her face has gone unrecognized, however in this case it is both amusing and mortifying that she will have to leverage her name to simply get through the gate. “Tell me, what is your name, ser?” she asks, hand still on the hilt.

“Gillesoireaux, mistress. Now, you must—”

“Move along, yes, I heard you the first time.” She raises her chin, calmly brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, exposing the point. “I would be very interested to hear what Aymeric has to say when he discovers you prevented the Warrior of Light from attending a much long awaited for dinner.”

The guard blanches. His gaze passes from her face to her rapier and back again, noting her mixed Hyur and Elezen features. Her image has been passed around Ishgard long enough now most citizens have some idea of what she looks like even if they haven’t seen her at official events.

“I’m sorry, mistress,” he says. “Even if you are the Warrior of Light, as you claim, I cannot allow you to pass without verification of your identity—”

She folds her arms, annoyed. “What verification? What else do I need to do to prove I am myself?”

“I—”

“That is quite enough, Gillesoireaux, thank you.”

Aymeric’s voice resounds from beyond the gate. Peering past the young guard, Aureia finds him on the threshold to the manor, a slightly perplexed look in his eye and an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. For once he is not dressed in his uniform, but the refined doublet and hose common among the Ishgardian nobility.

Gillesoireaux’s mouth opens in shock. “But, ser, I must protest—Lucia—”

“I commend you for fulfilling your duty so thoroughly, Gillesoireaux, but I believe I know the identity of my guest well enough to recognize her. Now, if you please. Allow her to pass. It is quite cold out tonight.”

The young man’s cheeks turn red. Swallowing his pride, he nods in respect and stands aside, gesturing for Aureia to proceed. She walks quickly through the gate and up the stone path, a strange flush on her cheeks and a queasy feeling in her stomach. Though she suspects she and Aymeric will both find this incident amusing to reflect on in a few days time, for now she can’t determine whether she is embarrassed about it or simple anxious for the dinner that lies ahead. She was filled with giddy happiness several nights ago at the prospect of spending time with him. But now she is here, on the doorstep of his estate…

Where is the confidence she had that evening outside Estinien’s room? It takes more willpower than she would like to admit not to excuse herself and run straight to the Brume.

Do me a favour and go with him for once. Give it a chance, for Fury’s sake. He will never shut up about you otherwise.

“I apologize for the trouble,” Aymeric says, ushering her through the door. “Gillesoireaux is young and takes his duties very seriously. I suspect fear of being tricked into letting unsavoury personages through overcame his good sense—though I fail to see how any Ishgardian citizen would fail to recognize you on sight.”

“Oh, I’m not sure about that. For all he knows, I might have been Hilda in disguise masquerading as the Warrior of Light in a bid to further ingrain lowborn citizens into your ever-expanding social circle.”

He sighs soberly and closes the door behind her. “Though I would hope none of my staff share those proclivities, it is a sentiment often echoed in the Pillars—”

She lays a hand on his arm. “It was a joke, Aymeric. And not a very good one.”

Aymeric coughs, covering his embarrassment, and glances at her. The corners of his eyes crinkle with a wry smile as he notes her rapier. “You came fit for battle, I see,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

She frowns, folding her arms defensively across her chest. “The last Ishgardian dinner I attended ended with me drugged and on the floor. You never know what will happen—” Gods, Aureia, did you really just say that? “—besides, you’re not one to talk! Not once, in all this time I have known you, have you graced my presence without your greatsword. Or your armour.”

He stares at her, taken aback by the sudden deluge of words. “I…” A small chuckle escapes him. “I suppose you speak the truth. Lucia has said as much before. Routine is no small comfort, one that I perhaps rely upon too often and unthinkingly. One could say it is fortuitous that tonight I have finally relinquished some of my habits that are consequences of profession and position.”

“Are you sure? You have done away with the armour, but I’m not entirely convinced you’re not hiding Naegling behind your back.”

He laughs again and takes a step back, spreading his hands in a very un-Aymeric-like way. “Then perhaps you will have to examine me for yourself,” he says. He turns out to one side, then to the other—to call it a twirl would be too much—and sinks into a low bow. As he gazes up at her from behind long, dark lashes, the coy smirk on his lips feels private. Personal. Just for her. “No hidden weapons, greatswords or otherwise.”

She smiles, buoyed by his gentle humour, her mind reaching for a witty remark—and pauses. A shadow moves in her peripheral vision. She blinks, ripping her gaze away from Aymeric to dart around the foyer. A butler—tall, Elezen, genteel in the way of the Ishgardian upper crust, with all the quiet confidence and experience that Gillesoireaux lacked—enters the foyer and glides effortlessly across the room, stopping only to bow politely to them both. His piercing eyes linger on her in a way she does not like, taking in her tunic’s deep neckline and the tips of her ears poking through her hair.

Only then does she realize that the hall is far from empty. Behind Aymeric it unfolds in a kaleidoscope of marble floors and blue-trimmed walls, floor-length windows framed by sweeping velvet curtains, the crystal chandelier that is somehow gilded yet not gaudy, a magnificent staircase ascending to the second floor. It’s exactly the kind of staircase the demure little protagonist of those romance chapbooks Tataru stockpiled from the Jeweled Crozier would use to make her grand entrance. The butler is not the only servant here; a handful of others are going about their evening tasks while furtively glancing in her direction and eyeing her up.

She doubts she meets their expectations.

Aureia glances back to Aymeric, catching him still in his bow. Heat sears her cheeks—damn damn damn it—and she ruthlessly hopes the colour doesn’t show on her pale face. Maybe she can brush it off as a result of the brisk evening air.

Wind burn. Right. Is that where we’re at? I’m not blushing, it’s wind burn.

The butler appears a foot behind Aymeric, thick grey brows drawn together in an obvious frown, and clears his throat.

Aymeric jolts out of his bow and straightens, reverting seamlessly into the posture of the Lord Commander. Professional. Polite. Adroit. The picture of knighthood and chivalry. She knows him well enough know it is a role as much as the Warrior of Light. But the way he inhabits it every day, fully and resolutely, as fulfillment of his duty to his country… Sometimes she worries he is more the façade than the man.

“Marcel!” he says. “My apologies, I did not expect—”

“Merely here to receive your honoured guest, my lord, but I see there was no need,” Marcel interrupts smoothly. “I did not realize that you had departed your private office so early before dinner. Is there a change in your schedule I was not made aware of? I can amend my timetables—”

“No, that is quite all right, I assure you.” Aymeric lowers his head, almost as if he has been scolded like a schoolboy. “I was happy to greet Mistress Malathar myself.”

“Did you wish to return to the study? Mistress Malathar is early. I am happy to escort her to the sitting room in the meantime. Or perhaps the library. Your parents’ collection on Ishgardian cultural and religious history may be of particular interest to her.”

“That won’t be necessary, Marcel, thank you.”

The butler nods and places a hand over his heart, bowing deeply. “I am ever but your humble servant, my lord.”

Giving Aureia a calculated look, he excuses himself and departs briskly down the hall.

Aymeric coughs, a flush on his cheeks, and awkwardly links his hands behind his back. “Shall we?” he says hesitantly. “It seems we have some time before dinner is served. No sense in standing in the threshold, I wager. Unless you have a preference for waiting here, of course…?”

“Hm. You know, I do love a good foyer. And you have a particularly beautiful entrance hall.”

His eyes brighten. “Is it not? My parents did find much enjoyment in their taste and style…” He trails off, noting her expression, and sighs and shakes his head. “That was a jest, I see.”

“It was.”

“I am making a fool of myself once again.”

Aureia cocks her head and sweeps across the foyer. “Not a fool,” she says affectionately, taking his arm in hers. She’s uncertain where the impulse came from, but it feels appropriate in a hall like this. Maybe Tataru’s chapbooks had a more lasting impression on her than she thought. He doesn’t seem to mind or find it odd, at any rate. “Just incredibly easy to tease.”

“Incredibly easy? Well then, I shall take note. Perhaps I can put up more resistance next time.” He guides her down the hall, strolling towards a pair of arched glass doors. Count Edmont would never have the like in his manor. “But your remark did remind me that this is still very much my foster parents’ home. Their vision, their tastes, an inarguable inspiration to their peers. Perhaps they expected me to make changes once I inherited the estate, but I never could bring myself to overturn their memory. This house is as much theirs as it is mine. I count my blessings and my fortunes every day for the life they provided me.”

“I see.”

He eyes her, glancing down from his towering height. “You must forgive Marcel,” he continues. “He was the former viscount’s butler and he has been with the house since before I was born. He may be curt and fiercely protective of the Borel name—and, if you will allow me a moment of honesty, perhaps a little too protective—but his intentions are well-meaning.”

He pushes the doors open. They swing outwards to welcome them into a sitting room decorated in soft blues and periwinkles. A warm fire crackles merrily in the hearth, casting its dancing light around it.

“Protective?” Aureia asks as he shuts the doors behind them. Though any servant passing could spot them through the glass, at least the sound will be muffled, affording them some privacy. “How so?”

Aymeric gestures to the nearby settee. “There is a particular sense of Ishgardian propriety about House Borel’s old guard, so to speak,” he says carefully, waiting for her to sit down.

She sinks into the cushions, fingers plucking unconsciously at the frilled edges of a nearby pillow. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“I hold Marcel and his staff in nothing but the highest regards,” he continues, seating himself opposite her. A strange stab of disappointment pangs in her heart. Almost as if she wishes that he had joined her on the couch, close enough to touch. Close enough for her to lay a hand in his, to thread her fingers with his in imitation of that night in the infirmary. “But their enduring devotion to my foster parents’ and their reputation does blind them. My adoption caused a stir among the high and minor houses alike, one that was not easily mitigated. Gossip behind closed doors can be as brutal a warfare as any battlefield. Marcel does not intend any disrespect, but I believe he wishes I carry on my parents’ good name without subjecting it to further slander.”

Her gut tightens into a familiar knot, an unwanted prickle creeping down the back of her neck. “Why should inviting me to dinner be the cause of slander for your House?” she says flatly. “I thought we were friends.”

“And we are, are we not? Aureia, there is no person on this world whom I am prouder or happier or honoured to call friend—”

“You staff seems to think differently. Where would they get that impression, I wonder?”

He coughs, covering an awkward smile. “They are an imaginative lot, it is true, but—”

“Marcel’s concerned, isn’t he. He is Ishgardian through and through. The old kind, that is. Warrior of Light or not, he sees a half-Elezen woman appear on your doorstep and there is only one thought in his mind.”

A pause. He closes his eyes, wincing with pain as if she had stabbed him in the gut. “Yes. You see it plainly.”

Aureia exhales a long breath and folds her hands, resting them on her knees. This is not the conversation she imagined she would have upon entering his house, but it seems it has raised its ugly head regardless. “I’m sorry,” she says slowly. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He opens his eyes, relief flickering across his face. “You have not. Far from it. If apologies are required, it should be from me to you. On behalf of certain ancient gentlemen who are far too entrenched in their ways to avoid jumping to conclusions.”

There is a part of her—a niggling part, deep down, thrashing around in her mind that she must stamp out lest she let it slip across her tongue—that wants nothing more than to ask him point-blank what Marcel would do if they were more than friends. If he loves her the way she thinks he does it must be on his mind. She can imagine the horror on Marcel’s part, the conclusions he would race to while watching the son of his beloved viscount fall for a woman of mixed heritage. Bastard Elezen children are one thing in Ishgard. But bastard children with Hyur blood in their veins…

Her heart hammers, rising panic creeping across her skin. That would require so many elements to fall into place, so many variables to go both right and wrong. Besides, it’s not like she could ever… she can…

Not this again.

“Aureia?”

His voice resounds quietly in her ears, a blanket of calm and warmth. The sound of him so close yet so far away cuts through her panic, dispersing it as easily as the sun melts mists in its morning glow.

She raises her head, meeting his eyes, and instinctively pushes a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ve never told anyone this,” she says quietly. “Not even Hilda. But Haurchefant warned me near a year ago that Ishgard may judge me harshly not for who I am, but what I am. He believed I could win them over easily, that the nobility’s contempt for me would melt as soon as I gave them something to talk about other than exile, refugee or half-Elezen. He had more faith in the goodness of his peers than anyone. Perhaps a little too much. He hoped my association with his father would count for something, but I’m not certain if this city is prepared to judge me for anything other than who my parents may have been. And I’m not even Ishgardian.”

Aymeric nods and leans across to take her hand. “It should not be this way. And I do not wish for it to continue this way.”

She smiles faintly, running her thumb across the back of his hand. “I don’t care what they say about me,” she says firmly. “I’m a hero to some, a villain to others. I can live with it.”

“You should not have to. If there was a way—”

“Please, Aymeric, I’m begging you not to draft a new statute on my behalf. You can’t decree change and expect centuries-old beliefs to change overnight.” She pauses, her teeth scraping her lower lip as she considers her next words. An admission, one she hasn’t shared with anyone. “You know, when I first came here, I thought it would be easier to pretend to be Hyur. Even now, it’s easier to keep them hidden. But something in the city is changing. You’ve changed it. Hilda is changing it. And perhaps I am, too. In a few years, who knows? It could be different.”

“It could. It is my most fervent hope that it is. But Aureia, you should not have to hide who you are to placate the misguided few.”

She shrugs. “It’s fine. It is what it is.”

“It is not to me.”

Her heart stutters. There is such genuine warmth in his voice and in the way he is looking at her, she can barely breathe. He has quite literally knocked her speechless. She shifts her weight, pulling herself to the very edge of the settee so she can have a firmer grasp of his hand without straining her reach. If it weren’t for those glass doors, she may have very well thrown herself down next to him. Or into his arms.

Either feels appropriately impulsive. Like the protagonists of Tataru’s chapbooks.

Hells, why do you keep thinking of those? This isn’t some fairy tale.

“Aureia,” Aymeric says gently, his fingers still entwined with hers. “If it’s not too presumptuous of me… may I ask you a personal question? Where in Eorzea do you call home?”

“I’m not Eorzean.”

The words are out of her mouth before she has time to think about them. She bites her lower lip, silently cursing her slip of the tongue. Aymeric, thankfully, has not noticed. He simply waits for her reply, patient and understanding. If anything, judging from his expression he seems to regret his curiosity out of fear of prying into a sensitive topic.

“I apologize,” he says quickly. “Please, do not feel imposed to tell me more than you wish—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupts. “It’s not something I often want to talk about.”

And not for the reasons you’re thinking.

Where is home? Rolling meadows, babbling brooks, the scent of loamy earth and the rush of the sea. The bones of metal streets, wires above and below thrumming with magitek, air so freezing she can’t feel her nose, the metallic tang of blood industry in the air. These are the two sides of Garlemald—temperate Locus Amoenus, where she was born, and the glacial Imperial capital, where she was honed into a killer. Spy. Agent. Operative.

She had no home after she defected, not until Ul’dah. And though the scars of the bloody banquet have now healed, she can never see it the same again.

Two homes. One she rejected. And one who rejected her.

Secrets upon secrets. A different person then, under a different name, a name she never wants someone like Aymeric to hear. She has told no one her origins, not even the Scions. How would they react, knowing their dearest friend was secretly the very thing they were fighting against? It would be reasonable to admit the truth to Lucia, who as a Garlean defector and Aymeric’s left hand would be most likely to understand.

But she is anything but reasonable. She killed her former self the day she left. Better to let Kira decay for good then let her history be exhumed.

“Corvos,” Aureia says finally, careful not to use the Garlean name for the region. “I was born in Corvos. It doesn’t have much meaning to me now. I have no interest in seeing my parents ever again.”

“Corvos?” He raises an eyebrow. He has noted her tone and sagely avoids the topic of her parents. She’s thankful—she’s not sure if she could undergo another incident similar to Hilda’s blunt scrutiny when she asked which Elezen parent had a dalliance with a Hyur. “You are very far from home.”

“The world’s a big place, Aymeric. There’s a lot that goes on outside your own borders. I never could stay still for long.”

“A thirst for adventure?”

A faint smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “For a better version of myself.”

The glass doors open, throwing streaming light into the room. Aureia jerks back and pulls her hand from Aymeric’s, situating herself deep into the settee’s cushions. Aymeric is not so fast. He remains hunched over, his hand hovering in the air, still grasping at where her retreating fingers had once been.

Shit. Dinner. Right.

Marcel clears his throat. “Dinner is served, my lord,” he announces, observing the scene before him with commendable detachment. If he disapproves of her, he will not let it show. “My lady.”

Aymeric rises to his feet, offering his hand to her. She pauses, mind flooded with question—should she take it? Should she not? Will Marcel see it as burgeoning romance if she does? Will he see it as burgeoning romance she is trying to hide if she doesn’t?—and stands up, hands falling straight to her sides, gripping a fistful of her leather coat.

Down the hall to the foyer, through a set of heavy double doors and into a hallway lined with windows. She almost has time to appreciate the view of the square outside before Marcel is ushering her through another set of doors and into a room whose purpose is utterly baffling to her and seems to be nothing but a square-shaped entry hall of some kind. Finally, he throws open the doors to the dining room and steps aside, bowing them in with the grace of an expert butler.

Aureia’s eyes widen. She slows her pace, boots scraping against the polished wood floors as she stares gobsmacked. The dining room is softly inviting with its familiar blues and warm hearth, the long table is outfitted for more than a single guest. Candlelit and with more cutlery and plates than she knows what to do with. Surely there has to be a purpose for the three separate wine glasses at each setting. And that is to say nothing of the mouth-watering smells coming from the feast laid out before her.

All of this? For us? Aymeric, what in the hells?

Her stomach growls. He had to have heard it. Both him and Marcel.

Aymeric smiles, nodding for her to sit even as he strides around to the other side. She smiles tentatively in return and draws out her chair. For some reason, sitting at this table feels… important? Momentous? Decisive? As if the full House of Lords and House of Commons should be here in attendance and they are calling upon her to make yet another decision about the fate of their nation.

A dinner invitation should be a simple night at a tavern with good ale and good meat, not something amounting to a full fucking wedding feast. But then this is Aymeric. She should have realized what she was getting herself into the moment he sent that letter. It’s why she panicked dressing for this event. Because he always has to make it an event.

Aymeric is a man of extremes. Although he may come across as quiet and steadfast, there is a recklessness in his dependability. Fervour in his resolve. He has never been one do things halfway, he commits hard and fast with every fibre of his being or not at all. This dinner has been denied to them too many times, of course he is giving it his all. Whether he is in love with her or not is a moot point. This is a declaration of sorts, one made grander by how long it has been put aside.

He is Ishgardian through and through.

Genteel. Proper. Lavish. He is giving her so much, showering her with so much, his affection is as suffocating as it is heart-warming. A part of her is desperate to retreat into the shadows and flee. Maybe even crack a window open and dive over the balcony like Estinien.

If only they could have stayed in that sitting room. All she wants is to spend time with him, talk with him, without all of this…

“Wine, my lady?” Marcel’s voice sounds above her shoulder.

Aureia blinks. Somewhere between seeing the table and her thought crisis, she has removed her rapier and stashed it on a nearby chair, sat down and pulled hers in as far as it will go. “Uh yes, thank you,” she says, shifting in her seat. The chair creaks beneath her. An inelegant and unladylike sound. The butler must be appalled. She coughs. Desperate to put her restless hands to use, she fidgets with her coat’s collar as he fills her glass.

Marcel sets the decanter expertly on a tray and takes a step back. “Shall I take your coat, Mistress Malathar?” he asks.

She drops her hand, the question cutting through her distracted mind. “I’m fine as I am, thank you,” she replies curtly. “Though admittedly I am not well versed on current Ishgardian dinner protocol, the Lord Speaker may have changed something without me noticing. Should I be giving you my coat or have I committed an abominable faux-pas?”

Aymeric snorts with laughter. The sound is faint and not very like him. It makes her smile.

The butler is not impressed. “I was merely inquiring as you seemed uncomfortably warm at the dinner table and your coat, mademoiselle, could be at fault,” he says, migrating around the table to serve Aymeric. “Though I will take this opportunity to inform you that it is not customary for lords and ladies to dine in their overclothes.”

“Good thing I’m not a lady.”

“All is well and good, my lady, and I thank you for it. I fear you would be inappropriately dressed should you remove your coat.”

Aureia flushes, her skin prickling, too embarrassed to be angry. “I—”

“Thank you for your service tonight, Marcel,” Aymeric interrupts. There’s a cold look in his eye. He holds out his hand, gesturing for him to stop pouring. “Protocol or not, custom or not, she can keep her coat and wear what she pleases. I think it fits her well.”

The tone in his voice communicates far more than his words. This will be addressed—firmly and without question. The manor’s staff will all no doubt hear of it.

The butler’s mouth tightens. “Very good, my lord. Shall I send Timothien?”

“No,” Aymeric replies. “I believe the Warrior of Light and the Lord Commander are more than capable of handling this ourselves. We will not be needing anything else tonight. Please inform the staff that I wish to spend this evening with a cherished friend.” He glances across the table, his gaze finding hers. “Nothing would give me greater happiness.”

Marcel sets the wine and tray on the table, bows stiffly—once to Aymeric, once to Aureia—then turns on a heel and vanishes through a set of side doors. In the silence that follows, she can hear nothing but the crackle of the hearth and the steady, forced rhythm of Aymeric’s breath.

“I am as horrified as I am disappointed. He should never have—”

“I should have worn the dress,” she blurts.

He blinks. “The dress?”

She scrunches up her face. “Dress. Gown. Maybe that would have been appropriate attire. Maybe I should have done more with my face. Changed my mind. Last minute. It’s why I was late.”

“You weren’t late.”

“Wasn’t I? I missed our agreed upon time by almost a bell—”

“And dinner was not ready, so there was nothing to waste. If anything, I asked you to arrive earlier than necessary because I selfishly coveted time for us to converse alone. These moments with you are precious to me. But experience tells me there is never enough time, and sooner or later duty will call for one or both of us.”

Warmth floods her chest. Ignoring the blush on her cheeks, she sweeps a lock of hair behind her ear and reaches for her glass. “That doesn’t sound selfish to me. You are allowed to live, Aymeric. There has to be a day you can live for yourself. Not the House of Lords or the House of Commons. Or Ishgard.”

“Have you conversed with Lucia of late? I am certain she has said similar words once. Or twice.”

“She’s observant. You should listen to her.”

“I am listening to you.”

The lilt of his voice sends an excited shiver curling down her spine. Certain she will become tongue-tied if she answers him now, she grips her glass and takes a sip, the luxurious red wine sitting headily on her tongue. It is the most exquisite thing she has ever drunk. She may not be an expert in Eorzean vintages, but she’s spent enough time around Gibrillont to identify the signs of luxury wine. For all she knows, this wine could be a hundred years old and costs tens of thousands of gil.

And he thought to serve this tonight? To her?

You’re being an idiot. Don’t read so much into it. You’ve dined with Count Edmont, you know this is how the aristocracy does this sort of thing. This is nothing special.

She glances over the table, taking in the sumptuous food. Soups and meats and roasted vegetables. Pastries piled on a platter. There is risotto in front of her, mixed with something she thinks may be black truffles. Truffles. Aymeric is either trying desperately to impress her—unlikely, he’s not the sycophantic sort—or he really is…

What did I tell you about reading too much into it?

“Forgive me if this is strange to say,” Aymeric continues, reaching for the decanter and finishes filling his glass. “But I would rather you come as you are, not what you think you should be.”

She pauses. “What do you mean?”

“The dress you spoke of. Frankly, I do not care what you see fit to dress yourself in, nor how closely you choose to follow Ishgardian customs. It would make my heart heavy indeed to see you forgo the very essence of yourself and trade it for traditions that are not your own. I would not argue we besmirch custom and culture wholly and throw them to the wolves, but rather I do not believe their sanctity should go unquestioned. One must take part in tradition out of choice, not obligation. Traditions are precious and deserve to be celebrated, but to embrace them blindly does not equate respect in my eyes. There will always be those for whom tradition fails, and those who tradition forgot.”

He exhales a long breath and lays a hand on the table near his glass. “Perhaps you count yourself among them, more at home amongst the good people of the Brume then the lords and ladies of the nobility. I can lay no blame at your feet for preferring Foundation to the Pillars when some here see your very existence as an affront to the fantasy they deem a civilized society. Regardless, you have notoriety and grand stories of your accomplishments precede you. To some, you are as much a fixture of this era of restoration as the House of Lords and the House of Commons, or the efforts of the good overseers and caretakers of the Firmament. But as wont as the people are to place the Warrior of the Light upon a pedestal, so too are they to forget there is a very real woman at the heart of those tales. I shall not. You cannot be anything other than yourself, and I will not ask it of you.”

She raises her head and meets his eyes, her heart throbbing in her chest. Gods, why must he be like this? What has she done to deserve a friendship like his?

“Perhaps it is something we share, then,” she suggests, a quiet smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

He blinks, startled, and chortles to cover his surprise. “We do?” he asks.

“Aymeric, consider what you have accomplished. My hand may have brought an end to Nidhogg’s wrath, but it is you who had the conviction to pull Ishgard out of this war. Break down the walls this country encased itself in for centuries. Bring an end to the cycle—”

“It was not I who should be accredited with such deeds, but rather men and women far greater than myself. Lord Haurchefant and Estinien and Ysayle, to say nothing of yourself. I can still see you there on the Steps of Faith, striding fearlessly towards the wyrm. It is not a moment I will soon forget.”

“You place too much importance on it—”

“You think I say that as a commander commending his greatest general for feats in battle. It is not so rote as that. Ishgard held its breath that day and you—”

She exhales sharply. “Would you let me finish?”

He bows his head. “Of course,” he says, unable to hide his smile. “Consider me suitably chastised.”

Aureia pauses, twisting her hands together beneath the table. What can she say to get her point across? Whenever she pushes the importance of his political maneuvers, he seems keen on derailing the point to praise her actions in combat. Perhaps that is the soldier in him or the rhetoric of Halone, though in Ishgard, they are often one and the same. The fast and dazzling heroism of victory in battle will always trump the slow, tedious work of reform.

She turns her head, her gaze wandering the dining room as she gives herself time to think. Lights dance on the opposite wall, drawing her eye to the hearth and its crackling flames. A set of portraits hang above the mantlepiece, depicting a wise Elezen noble and his wife. Grey-haired, strong features, kind eyes… These must be his adoptive parents. The former viscount and viscountess. By all accounts they loved him dearly, placing no blame on him for his accident of birth.

He has spoken little of them. Considering her difficulties with her own family, she would never want to press the matter. But she can’t help to wonder how much of him came from them. He may have called Thordan “Father” in those final days, but his true father—the man who raised him—is remembered here, his memory hanging proudly upon the wall.

If there is anything she knows all too well, it is that family is a very different thing from blood.

“When the whole nation looks to you, what do they see?” Aureia says finally. “On one hand, the commander who did not come from noble stock. The bastard who stood in the face of bloody tradition and sought another path. The reckless fool who defies century of tradition. On the other, the viscount who has nothing but love for his country. A noble man and a man of righteous faith, for whom there is no sacrifice too great if it means bringing Ishgard to the dawn of a new day. Aymeric, you are as much an enigma to your nation as I am. If they forget the Warrior of Light is a living, breathing person with blood in her veins, then so it is true for the Lord Commander. You are an ideal to them, at once a traditionalist to be trusted and a maverick to be praised. A visionary.”

She takes a breath and forges ahead. “But the problem with ideals is that they are just that. Ideals. The work ahead of you will be longer and more gruelling than fighting any dragon. My duty is done the moment my enemy is felled, but yours is just beginning. There will come a time when your people will see you not as the ideal they believe, but the man you are. And, in my experience, there are not many who like to see their fantasies broken.”

His gaze passes over her, blue eyes piercing and stern. For a moment, she wonders whether she has upset him, but then his expression breaks into a blinding smile. “Eloquently put,” he says, running a thumb across the stem of his glass. “Are you certain you are not fit for public speaking?”

She rolls her eyes. “Fuck, no.”

He snorts with laughter, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“I think I only had one of those in me for tonight,” she continues. “Best let Alphinaud write my speeches from now on.”

“I suspect he would jump elatedly at the chance.”

“Though—and I mean this quite seriously, Aymeric—please don’t ask me to make a speech. I’ll stand impressively in the back with impressive armour and an impressive weapon to make the right impressive impression, but I can’t promise anything more than that.”

His expression falls.

She cocks her head, brows drawn together in confusion, tongue pressed against the back of her teeth. Did she come off too strongly? He’s accustomed to her sense of humour by now, surely, but from the look on his face he seems almost… upset. “I’m sorry,” she says. “If I’ve made a fool of myself and put my foot in my mouth—”

“You did not,” he interrupts. “If truth be told, you simply reminded me of Estinien. I’m certain he has told me as much the same, more than once.”

A strange discomfort twists in her gut, a raw sense of loss. Not for her own friendship with the wayward dragoon—she is certain she will see him again someday, and if anything she understands all too keenly his desire to vanish into thin air after the torment he has suffered—but rather for Aymeric’s. He lost something greater than she did the day Estinien left. A decade of unconditional love and comradeship abandoned, and here he is, but a few days later, spending an evening with her rather than searching for his dearest friend.

“I suspect he has rubbed off on me,” she says carefully.

He laughs. “And I fear the disasters we must need circumvent if he had remained. I trust you both dearly, but together? Ishgard would never be the same.”

She snorts, grinning at his gently teasing tone, the knot in her gut relaxing.

Aymeric clears his throat. “But enough talk,” he says keenly. “Our dinner awaits and Marcel would be well and truly disappointed should our food grow cold.”

“We wouldn’t want to disappoint Marcel.”

“No. We would not.”

He catches her eye. Something passes between them—a shared moment, a private joke, something just for the two of them. It makes her feel light, buoyant with joy. Heart thrumming with happiness, she reaches for her glass, gripping the stem in unpracticed hands. Too used to Gibrillont’s flasks and tankards. With the right pressure and speed, she could snap the delicate crystal in two.

Maybe that’s why there’s three glasses at each setting… Gods, you really won’t let that one go, will you? Just ask him.

“A toast, perhaps?” she says, raising her glass.

He smiles and raises his own. “A fine idea,” he replies. “To friendship?”

“To friendship.”

#ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv fic #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv wol #aymeric de borel #aureia malathar #oc tag #writing tag #long post #in case the read more breaks there's +7000 words in here ahhhhhhhh

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sinner-sunflower · 1 month

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A HH Lucifer-centric AU 16/?

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

Hotel reaction 2 electric boogaloo

still deciding whether i'll post tomorrow

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

4 hours later, despite the arrival of Lucifer and the mystery woman, there is barely no progress. Charlie and the others were so hopeful the first few times because it did look like the extra power was doing something. But every time they make a dent, it bites back even worse.

They flinch as another Goetia fell, prompting the Prince of Lust to call for a retreat from her dad.

Lucifer: No! We can't afford to lose a Ring.

Cherri: They are clearly exhausted.

Angel: Yeah. One day won't be tha bad, right toots?

Charlie: Umm, I don't think so. Hell's rings are a complicated. They aren't just places, it's a system. Losing one will inevitably cause the others to fall apart.

Husk: I guess his majesty doesn't want us backed to a corner. If they let Sloth be consumed then who knows how bigger the problem would get.

Vaggie: He's right. The best solution is dealing with it at the literal root. They can theoretically recoup but by the looks of things, Sloth has little to no time left.

Husk: Mhhm. The constant ritual might be the only thing keeping it alive. The ring is basically on life support.

Lucifer: Goodie! Goodie: I cannot give more of something I do not have, angel. I warned you that my support alone will most likely not stop this. Lucifer: We should at least be denting it!

They quickly covered their ears as the TV let out a sound so ear-piercing that it feels like their head is splitting in half.

Angel: What the fuck???

Looking up despite the pain, they see that giant roots sprout from the ground. It went up and up until it reached Lucifer's pentagram in the sky.

Husk: Is that a fuckin' tree?

Charlie is transfixed on the image. She has lived in Hell all her life but this is the first time she had felt dread from something that came from her home.

'This is not of Hell.' She thought. It makes her sick. But her stupor was cut short as a new voice cuts through the footage.

Leviathan: Luci! Your marks!

Charlie looks in equal horror as her Uncle Leviathan when she saw the state her dad was in. The marks on his body have now almost consumed his whole face. She lets out a sob as Lucifer held up the mirror Alastor provided to inspect his condition.

No one spoke as he does this. Then after a moment, Charlie saw something in her dad's eyes.

Lucifer: Goodie. What do I need to do?

Charlie was about to say her confusion out loud when the lady, Goodie, blew a piece of paper onto the King's skin.

Goodie: This might be the only way to stop my sister. That is an ancient seal from before the Nothing- strong enough to render God and beings like Roo weak. Satan: Huh?! Then why didn't you just let us use that from the start??

Cherri: Yeah! The shit??

Husk: I don't like this.

Charlie shares the same sentiment. Whatever is happening, she has a bad feeling.

Goodie: Because there is a condition. Lucifer: And what's that? Goodie: It must be performed from the inside. It needs to be as close as possible to the one you are sealing. The hold will be stronger with proximity. And with you being the highest power here... Belphegor: Then that means-!

Nononononono, please don't. Please don't let it be what I think it is. Please don't do it. Please dad. I love you. I miss you. Please don't leave me PLEASE-

Lucifer: I need to be the one to go in there.

Protests from the hotel residents and demons on the broadcast overlap with each other. Charlie's ears are ringing. Her chest is tight and it's getting harder and harder to breathe. She can feel someone's hand around her, probably attempting to ground her. Yup, definitely a coming panic attack.

Lucifer: Are you sure this will stop her?

She can vaguely hear someone, probably Vaggie, say something to her but it's all muffled. Charlie could only focus her hearing on the scene in the TV.

Dark spots are filling her vision and her breaths are erratic as her beating heart.

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEDADPLEASENOTYOUDONTLEAVEMETOODADPLEASE

Goodie: You are the key, angel. It must be you.

Charlie's world turns to black as she collapses in the arms of her lover. And if her dad looked directly at the camera in hopes of meeting her gaze, well, she'll never know.

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creepylittlelady · 5 months

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Lord Zalgo headcanons! [PUPPET STRINGS INFO DUMP]

Hey! Thank you so much for the notes on my Slenderman post! I hope one day my AU can reach a lot of people, because I seriously need people to lore dump to!

If you're reading this and want to request specific characters, go ahead! I have headcanons for everyone, but not as much for characters like Hobo Heart, Nathan the Nobody, Jason the Toymaker, Candy Pop or Vailly Evans, sadly ;(

I do have tons on different characters, and if you want to ask a question about my AU then go ahead! I could rant about it for days lol (my uber autism speaking).

Anyways, enough self promo. Lord Zalgo is such an interesting character to me and it hits me right in my soul when I barely see any content of him and in most comics he's just the evil guy. I feel like his character should be more nuanced to I hope these headcanons fit that objective!

Lord Zalgo Headcanons

-Okay, to explain, Lord Zalgo is the Emperor of the Underworld. Not hell, because that word's got a bad connotation. No, the Underworld is a mixture of every dead organism that has ever lived. Demons and Angels live there alike, it's just all one United State (ITS NOT COMMUNISM). Lord Zalgo is the divine ruler, and his authority resides over every community residing in the Underworld.

(I should definitely make a post about the Underworld soon)

-He came to the Underworld in the year 1901, dethroning all former leaders, whether they be Angels or Demons, and quickly established himself as the new leader. He's immensely powerful and lives in a Castle, which is a Labrinth of its own, right in the Centre of the Underworld.

Well, enough cool stuff. LETS GET TO THE ANGST.

-Zalgo was born the child of a Lady of the Night and an unknown Priest. His original name is Ashton, although he can't really remember what his actual last name was, he rolled with the last name 'Morningstar'. Whilst his mother did provide for him and later on his younger half-sister 'Lily' (I'll make a post on her later), she left when he was 11 years old, and never returned.

-Due to growing up in the worst of the worst, in absolutely inhumane slum conditions, he's used to seeing things such as Dead Corpses and most bloody conditions in general. He's completely desensitized to Gore and Death in general, which is why most people believe him to be cruel and sadistic.

-He once worked in a factory, and suffers from constant nightmares about his experiences there. He's acquired a lot of nasty permanent injuries from that place, and has nightmares about being beaten or being refused food. Yeah, the dude's really traumatised.

-Although politically he has to say that he hates Slenderman due to their political differences, truth is they're each others only friend. Since Slender is well aware of the horrors he's seen, he has an understanding of why he is the way he is, but it doesn't mean he condones his behaviour.

-By 'his behaviour' he means his constant misuse of lust (he's not a rapist he just has a bunch of kids with random mortals) and his wrath. He's not a sadistic person by any means, but copious amounts of violence is sort of how he copes with his own memories of violence.

-Since he was born extremely poor and by such he never got an education, the dude's a really slow reader. He's very intelligent, and was slightly more literate than the other kids in the Factories, but he's still an incredibly slow reader. He has a Servant write his letters for him and makes other people read messages to him out loud. He's quite insecure about this, so he's pretty grumpy every time he makes Stripes read out a text message for him.

-He became Lord Zalgo due to willingly sacrificing himself to the Operator, and because of his already traumatised soul became a Pure Demon. The Zalgo body is made, symbolically, out of his worst insecurities and traumatic experiences. That sounds edgy and confusing as hell but I promise when I put the concept into actual words I'll make a post about it someday.

-Due to being the sole provider for his little sister, Lily, at one point, he's basically used to being a father. Although he has many children he deems most of the male children as illegitimate. He only claims the female children, although he only has three of them. This is also his way of coping with a particularly bad trauma that he suffers from.

When he lost his sister and only remaining biological family, Lily, to a horrific death, he basically tried desperately filling that hole inside of him by having female children and taking care of them. He feels immense guilt as he feels that if he simply had protected her more he could have saved her from her fate.

Stripes, Sadiya (I HAVE GENUINELY NO IDEA IF SHES ZALGOS CHILD OR NOT BECAUSE APPARENTLY SHES LAZARIS COUSIN BUT THEN WHO TF IS SHE THE CHILD OF???), and Lazari were basically made to fill that void. He tries to take care of them, but he often fails. Lazari's custody went to Slender for that exact reason.

-He basically went insane when Lazari's mother refused to give her to him (Lazari's backstory is changed a bit in my AU).

-As for his relationships with the Proxies and the Pastas (that's just what I like to call them), he's generally just known either as Lazari's dad or as Slenderman's MAYBE-Boyfriend. Most people were confused as they thought he and Slender were dating when they weren't.

He particularly has a good relationship with Nina. She accidentally ended up in Zalgo's Castle after following Stripes back there after visiting Lazari, and the two of them hit it off, as Nina didn't really show fear towards him. He claims that Nina's his favourite one out of all of the Slender residents.

He also feels pretty bad for the Proxies and their situation, but he's not particularly on good terms with any of them.

-He's on HORRIBLE terms with Slenderman's brothers, especially his father. Since they all reside in the Underworld and have been trying to track down Slenderman for years, he basically has to lie to them as Slender doesn't want to talk to any of them. He particularly hates Slender's dad as he doesn't obey any of the laws of the Underworld.

-He likes to pretend to be an evil mastermind, but he's not really all that serious about his 'Evil Plans'. They mainly consist of stealing Slender's Books or putting them in the wrong alphabetical order.

-He actually can be evil at times, he's definitely capable of it. Due to the fact that he can be considered as the literal Devil, he's done his fair share of abhorrent deeds, such as Genocides and Executions of rebels.

-The dude's had so many coups and assassination attempts against him that he can spot them from a mile away. He's had people executed WAY before they even went near him. Due to his experience with Assassins, he's crazy stealthy as well.

-'Zalgo text' is just something he made to encrypt any letters that he sends. He uses Zalgo Text to make sure to make important messages are unintelligible to enemy interceptions. His handwriting is terrible anyways, so it just makes it even harder to read.

-His catchphrase 'HE COMES' is basically plastered on most things in the Underworld. It's like a brand at this point.

-He's very touch starved, so he's overly affectionate to people that he likes. When he's in a more stable mood he smothers Lazari with hugs (when she's allowed to visit) and basically doesn't let go of Slender, ever.

-Although he states that his birthday is on Halloween, it's actually on the 27th of July. He isn't used to celebrating his real birthday, so he just doesn't.

-Due to the fact that he's so used to being dirt poor, sometimes he just forgets that he's rich and can basically do whatever he likes.

Another incorrect quote format to demonstrate this.

Zalgo: Ah man looks like I don't have enough to get McDonalds today. Slender: What do you mean just take money out of your bank vault in the basement Zalgo: BANK VAULT? I HAVE A BANK VAULT? Slender: ...Yes? You're the Emperor of Hell? Zalgo: Wow you learn something new everyday

Once he was panicking about how he didn't have enough cash to pay the entrance fee for a restaurant, and was just SHOCKED when they let him in without him needing to pay.

-He's definitely not a great person, and is definitely one of the most mentally unstable characters in my AU, but dammit he's trying his best.

-He often has to keep Slenderman inside of a basement whenever the Operator takes control and gets too violent. it's basically his job to beat it into sedation, which he doesn't feel guilty about in the moment but then he remembers that Slender can also feel the pain.

The Operator's the only being that he's afraid since it directly holds power over him, and is basically holding his friend hostage. Him and Slender made a pact that if the Operator got too unbearable, that he has to try and kill him.

Alright, hope you enjoyed! I wanna explore his character more soon, so stay tuned for that!

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sotogalmo · 2 months

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5 — 10:11

Malice Waltz : UmbraticForest.

(UmbraticForest)

________ @jasminetea1234 , @iswmperson , @dannybobany , @vomitpukey , (and my other mutuals!!)

“A nightmare Ballroom ... Joined by spirits of the night ... The graveyard's only just begun to come alive. ... Lalalalala / lalalalala. Let's have a ball ~

Join our malevolent waltz!

Cinders and ashes all lie, on dolls with prying eyes. (Dark and beautiful as sin. "Let the festival begin") Drowning in the grief, I can barely breathe ... Waiting for you, clamoring

Aren't we all enamoring?

Ancient, ancient,

Ancient eaves of the night

Burn the sky with all my scorn, You, who I love and adore.

Descending, descending

Deep in the dark heart of hell ...

Promise I will guide you well, glowering along the way. Sneering I howl your name.

During the day, all my dreams are light,

but in the night they get sullied with spite. (it's all the same, play either way). Creaking like a crooked laugh,

The dead are gathering on my behalf.

Stealing every soul we see, be with us eternally :)

I'll give you the gift, of a granted wish. So welcome to your confession, ..bend the knee, You pray to me.

There's no threshold, I'm not willing to cross. You are damned forevermore, You who I love and adore. Drowning, drowning, in the nocturnal depths ...

Glowing embers rising up, from my broken heart and corpse — Scattered by your own hand.

Ancient, ancient ...

A land of carrion fey ...

A parade of wonderful friends, summon us and make it right.

Morning, or

Noon, or

Nighhtttt (ah)

Ancient, ancient,

Ancient eaves of the night

Burn the sky with all my scorn, YOU WHO I LOVE AND ADORE.

Today,

you'll serenade

Us with your lovely voice

This malevolent waltz of ours(!) playing to the tune of you,

Breaking, bloody, and bruised...

Lalalalala, lalalalala, ......... ”

______________________________

Okay. So uhm had this idea for hours, wanted to show the lyrics, and now imma explain why I even made this post(e.i: connect the lyrics with the tags - under the Read More!):

"A nightmare Ballroom": The Pizzaria, or like. Fnaf SL bunker

"joined by spirits of the night": obvious reference to the MCI kids.

"the graveyard's only just begun to come alive": Pizzeria/Bunker being a graveyard. It's a whole ass graveyard. It's just a graveyard. Animatronics are the kids Tombstones/Headstones.

"Lalalalala / lalalalala": Kids singing, but it's just disgusting noises to us(moans of pain, etc etc. dead body stuff). But they are singing because they have new food, or at the very least a new friend! — "Let's have a ball ~": around the ams of the night, they roam and they go and look for you, their food or friend!

"Join our malevolent waltz!": If you and they want to stay friends together, you have to join them!

"Cinders and ashes all lie, on dolls with prying eyes. (Dark and beautiful as sin. —": Dolls/toys in CC's room. And also the toys in VR, that reside in CC's room. 'Cinders & ashes', being Fire, but moreso how much he's feeling - making it feel like he's burning up. 'Dark and beautiful as sin', being from William but maybe CC. Only maybe

"— Let the festival begin")": Festival of gaining a new friend! Festival of taking down their murderer!

"Drowning in the grief, I can barely breathe ...": Many characters but the ones I can name off the top of my head are - Henry, CC, and Mike. We all know that in all canons, these are the ones mostly and almost always with the emotion of grief/sadness & also with the color of blue. And well, yeah. They can barely breathe because of the overwhelming water in their head, hearts and eyes. Leaving themselves breathless, because they lost one thing that is important to them (Henry: his daughter. CC: his life(he has a hate/love relationship bout his life). Mike S: his brother, and almost his sister).

"Waiting for you, clamoring": wanting you to stay with them, so they make more noises. More sounds of wishing for the morning to stop coming so they would stop having to feel you leave them alone. They are kids, who might be angry, but they want friends.

"Aren't we all enamoring?": they were liked before. They want to believe they still are.

"Ancient, ancient, Ancient eaves of the night": The Pizzaria is quite old, hell ancient to Gregory and his friends! But it all happens at night. All of the mysteries happen at night. In SL bunker, they have two(?) hanging bodies in Ballora's Gallery (for the meaning of eaves: the lower border of a roof that overhangs the wall.)

"Burn the sky with all my scorn,—": Henry setting fire to the pizzeria, in FNAF6, because he wants it to fade away but he also wants everything he now(?) hates to just. Leave, and never stay in the physical realm of the living.

"—You, who I love and adore.": Henry & Charlie, or any other character!

"Descending, descending Deep in the dark heart of hell ...": Obvious William, he gets burned and then his soul gets dragged down to Hell. Because that's what was in Henry's speech, and that's where he belongs.

"Promise I will guide you well,—": Charlotte all the fuckin way. She's the puppet, give gifts ; give life. She promises the kids to keep them safe and not alone. "glowering along the way. Sneering I howl your name.": Cassidy/Vanessa/Gregory/Micheal, as they don't want to believe what happened and are angry that they lost the battle of being stronger. Angry that they gave Afton control

"During the day, all my dreams are light, but in the night they get sullied with spite.": CC core. Plain and simple, and I just think it fits the guy. Daylight is freedom, and nighttime is not. And he's very angry, and spiteful bout it. He hates it

"(it's all the same, play either way).": Everyday, every week, all the same. To deal with animatronics, nightmares or real. It's all the same, all you can do is approach it differently. But you do it either way/nonetheless.

"Creaking like a crooked laugh,": William/Elizabeth(CB)/Gregory(GGY)/Vanessa(Vanny). Just.. yeah, a "crooked laugh" kinda just fits their style. And for me, I don't think a crooked laugh is smth nice sounding. Kinda scary to think and yeah, I can see them using it as a scare tactic, yk?

"The dead are gathering on my behalf.": Vanessa A/Henry/Micheal. Vanessa & Micheal parallels, and Henry being the one to play it out.

"Stealing every soul we see, be with us eternally :)": DEFINITELY THE MCIS, BUT ESPECIALLY THE MOVIE VERSION. You cannot deny that. Cassidy, making a deal for them to have Abby forever(so that they can have a new friend, at the very least. Or maybe to sew up the hole that Garrett left behind, when he 'left')

"I'll give you the gift, —": Charlie/Garrett, doing what they assigned themselves to do and help other children, like themselves. "—of a granted wish": Cassidy in the movie, making a deal with Mike(maybe a small parallel with Glitchtrap making a deal with Vanessa??).

"So welcome to your confession,—": Charlie/Garrett/Cassidy/Glitchtrap(maybe also William?), listening to people's needs/subconscious desires, and giving them what they want(Charlie & Garrett give the kids a second try at life with a new body because they didn't & don't want to pass on. Cassidy & Glitchtrap making deals, giving them what they truly want. GT with Gregory & Vanessa: maybe having their own power over the people who wronged them?, and Cassidy with Mike: giving what he really wants, giving what he has always wished for).

"—bend the knee,": Cassidy(not rlly, but anger gets the best of them) & Glitchtrap getting angry when they try to refuse.

"—You pray to me.": William wanting to be treated like a God, or at the very least a very higher and 'divine' being. Slamming his hands on his desk(from the movie), and just- getting angry at stupid people(or people he finds stupid, in his own sense)

"There's no threshold, I'm not willing to cross.": Gregory & Vanessa NOT wanting to be like Glitchtrap (or who he says he was before). They are not willing to cross. But they cross either way. And they wished they were stronger. But it sucks, because Glitchtrap is powerful in convincing & being in control.

"You are damned forevermore,—": Towards William, but also other characters (from the books/games & more). "—You who I love and adore.": maybe towards Vanessa A & Elizabeth??? Very much inspired by @send-me-a-puffalope 's Papillomatosis fic. Because Will does care for his kids in that fic(he couldn't let go of Liz, and he had a SMALL hint of regret or something similar when he stabbed Nessa, will not let that go). And well, they are damned forever. Forever to tied to the purple that poisons everyone and everything.

"Drowning, drowning, in the nocturnal depths ...": Many characters, but makes me think of how @lets-ignore-that kinda depicts OMC/Henry in his art, yk? Very dark and muddy, and he's just. Stuck in water(blood? Red water? Who knows what that liquid is), always going to be drowning in his sorrows. And always being hidden from sight & only coming out at night just like his daughter and her friends.

"Glowing embers rising up, from my broken heart and corpse — Scattered by your own hand.": A WHOLE MIX OF LIKE. NAT'S FIC OF VANESSA (especially when it gets to the Scooped part) AND IGNORE'S DEPICTION OF how scooped Micheal looks and all. (Honorable mentions very much are @raccoon-in-a-dumpster & @connectionterminated13 's scooped Micheal designs. But like. Only saw them once so uh- yeah. But still!! Yeah). Souls leaving when the fire starts, and just. Getting their safe Haven. 'scattered by your own hand' is SO fully directed towards William. You cannot deny that (but the whole color coding it: purple for will, and the red for Foxybro & white for GGY/Vanny, because well. I just think it makes it much more. Sadder. Yeah)

"Ancient, ancient ... A land of carrion fey ...": A land filled with ghost children, crying - weeping or even seething. Changing shapes to match that of what they now represent, making their whole skin and body twitch inside of the suits, and change just slightly. Changing how they look since they won't be remembered or they don't even remember themselves. Maybe their eyes got plucked out? Stabbed? They don't know..but they don't recognize themselves and.. they think that they are fine with it. And maybe they are!

"A parade of wonderful friends, summon us and make it right.": MCI, and Elizabeth/Tony/Cassie/Abby. I'm just thinking about it, and MCI with these kids honestly?? Make sense? In the sense that, MCI technically got new friends yet they are all scattered(not really Cassie & Abby, but you get the idea). The 'summon us and make it right', goes so well with Abby tho(the kids were there, Chica & Abby went to 'play' - cut chase, Abby is close to being stuck inside a Ella springlock suit).

"Morning, or

Noon, or

Nighhtttt (ah)": Morning? Nightguards leftovers or the vandanlizers from the movie. Noon/Night, being with Mike/Micheal/fright guard Henry/Jeremy. Some ,if not most all, of the night guards fall victim & prey (again. Nat with their fic on Vanessa, and the other Fritz being proof of that).

"Ancient, ancient, Ancient eaves of the night": The Pizzaria is quite old, hell ancient to Gregory and his friends! But it all happens at night. All of the mysteries happen at night. All pulling the strings together to end it all, and end it once and for all.

"Burn the sky with all my scorn, YOU WHO I LOVE AND ADORE.": Fire to end it all. Should've happened way before, but the feelings are now too overwhelming and he has to act it now. Or maybe it wasn't the feelings but the idea of starting a new in a new year/decade(FNAF6 happening in like. Early 2010s I think? / For the movie it would be around 2016 on where they end it all?? I think??? I don't know). The 'you who I love and adore' being in capital letters just makes me think of Willry honestly. Especially coming from William's mouth, cuz he's TOTALLY also screaming for Henry to help him as he's just being tortured in Cassidy's special hell.

"Today, you'll serenade, Us with your lovely voice": The singers of the animatronics, the kids sing their songs of lullabies and rhymes. Or maybe they could be the Night guards 'singing' to them. Maybe Vanessa.A singing songs to them?

"This malevolent waltz of ours(!) playing to the tune of you,—": The kids are okay and are used to what you're experiencing. They were like you when it happened. "—Breaking, bloody, and bruised...": Micheal/Vanessa & Gregory, Charlie & Mike, Vanessa.A/etc. it just .... Osgsbudhsjndndnhd. I think it just fits them. All breaking in many ways, mentally(Vanny & GGY) - physically(Mike) & emotionally(Nessa & others).

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