#the real answer for all of them in order is

[uswntdreamer]

unwelcomed ❥︎ a. putellas & c. graham hansen x reader.

your first three weeks working for barcelona's women's hospital went as smoothly as you'd hope, but you find yourself in the middle of a rivalry between the two top surgeons. prologue of in sickness, in health.

warnings: mentions of workplace harassment.

in all your three weeks of working at barcelona women's hospital, there has never been a non busy day, let alone a non busy hour or minute. you were constantly rushing up and down hallways throughout the medical facility. constantly answering calls from patients and coworkers alike.

it was tiresome, no one ever said being a nurse at one of the top medical institutions for women's health in europe was going to by light work, but you figured that (with all the world class medical professionals around) it wouldn't be as stressful as working at a normal hospital in a decently sized city.

that's when you realize that everyone has to pull their weight, big or small. you often felt bad about your complaints towards your workload considering that it was minor compared to what the surgeons have to do, especially dr. alexia putellas and dr. caroline graham hansen. two of the absolute best.

you've only interacted with dr. putellas, the heart surgeon; she was the head of the surgeon department, so you saw her often. if she wasn't booked with patients, you'd usually see her in the hospital's garden taking a well deserved lunch break.

despite having such an crucial role, she rarely ever talked to anyone, except for dr. guijarro, dr. rolfö, or dr. paredes (who was the hospital's head supervisor, a very important woman). for everyone else, it was the usual head nod or no response at all. she was a 'go to work & go home' type of woman. your interactions with the woman was always short and simple, "hello." "good evening." "goodbye." and nothing more.

you quickly learned from a few of your coworkers that dr. putellas was quite the heartthrob. women would always fond over her and even make unwelcomed advances towards her. all the attention made her uncomfortable and you believe that its what made her so reserved.

"she's a real sweetheart." dr. frido, one of the more vocally welcoming doctors, said to you one day. "she just has a lot of eyes on her, many of them are quite perverted, so she keeps to herself in order to stop all the attention."

you only nodded in agreement because what else could be said? dr. putellas was a professional who was just trying to do her job without being the target of romantic, and even sexual, comments.

dr. frido glanced over to nurse engen with a teasing smile. "ingrid has had similar problems before a certain police officer came into the picture."

nurse engen blushed lightly. "it was hard to do my work when women would comment on my eyes. it's nice at first, but then it gets annoying pretty fast." the norwegian nurse turned her attention to the small police officer who was standing off near the front exit with another police officer a little shorter than her.

the said officer, affectionately named mapi, quickly looked away when she was caught by her lover. engen and frido both laughed at mapi's adorable obession with the nurse. you only smiled, not sure if you were familiar enough with them to laugh along appropriately.

as much as you were curious about dr. putellas, you kept your distance away from her as you didn't want her to assume you were like the women she awfully despised. your efforts seemed to please the older woman as she frequently sent you a small smile whenever you passed by her.

you were a bit more curious about the other famous surgeon, dr. graham hansen. while you knew a few details about dr. putellas, you knew absolutely nothing about dr. graham hansen, the hospital's brain surgeon, and it seemed like no one did. not even her fellow norwegian, nurse engen.

"i know as much about her as you do." ingrid said calmly. "i'm a bit shy when it comes to meeting new people, so i never got the chance to bond with her and i think she might also be shy as well. we do have a reputation for being shy [norwegians]."

"you can always talk to osho." frido cuts in. "i think osho is the only one here that knows anything about caroline."

"osho?" you asked.

"asisat oshoala, but we call her osho." frido informed. "osho works at the front desk in the children's unit. she's also caroline's 'best friend' and i always see those two hanging out together."

ingrid agreed with the swede. "yeah, i'm not sure what brought them together, but they are quite the pairing."

you have yet to meet asisat, but you assumed that she was as reserved as dr. graham hansen. dr. graham hansen always locked herself in her laboratory, she refused to leave the room until her work for the day was absolutely done and even by then she would still work away until the late night, or at least until dr. paredes came to relieve her of her duties.

you only knew what the woman looked like because her face was plastered on newspapers and advertisements around barcelona, but you have yet to see her in person. it makes you wonder what qualities asisat possesses to get to know such a socially off woman like dr. graham hansen. it was only the third week of your employment, so you knew you were bound to meet her eventually.

and by 'eventually', you weren't expecting to meet her now.

"I just need you to work with this young woman for the rest of the operation, which means you'll be working under the supervision of caroline." dr. paredes informed you as she read of a clipboard. "the patient is recovering from a traumatic car collision which brought damage to her..."

you completely blocked out any more words coming from the older woman's mouth. too focused on the fact that dr. graham hansen was now your field supervisor to listen. a few thoughts ran through your head as you struggled to process the given information.

"what if she's strict? what if she's a bitch? does she know that i'm not as experienced in the same field? what if i make a mistake? will she report me? will she berate me? does she even talk? will she just ignore me the entire time?"

"nurse." you hear paredes address you firmly.

you snap out of your thoughts immediately. "yes?"

dr. paredes gives you a pointed look. you feel your insides turn a bit. dr. paredes softens her gaze a bit before gesturing over to graham hansen, who leaned against the door frame of her office, staring down at you like you were a child in need of discipline.

"please sign your name here and follow caroline to operation room 7." she hands out a pen to you. in your perpheral vision, you can see that dr. graham hansen had already made her way down the hall to operation room 7.

you signed your name and quickly followed after the surgeon, not exactly feeling great about how you presented yourself in front of two women who could possibly end your career.

the moment you arrived, you already saw dr. graham hansen hard at work. you applauded her mentally for her dedication to her job. you took a glance over at the victim on the hospital bed; a teenage girl with brown skin and braided hair tied back into a ponytail. you took a closer look at her and saw no significant damages, a few scars and bruises here and there, but nothing that gave a clue that she was in a car crash.

"her vitals have already been checked. go sit in the corner." dr. graham hansen commanded without taking her eyes off the x-ray screen.

your body stilled a bit, but you followed her orders regardless. you watched caroline look through autopsy reports and other medical files, feeling absolutely useless in this whole ordeal.

"vitals have been taken, bloods have been drawn, x-rays have been performed, and a bodily clean up has already been done. why am I here exactly?" you think to yourself. you think a little more before coming to the conclusion that you're an assistant nurse, which means you'll be assisting the surgeon rather than the patient.

this made you furious because you absolutely hated being an assistant nurse. it was an insult to your career and to your image. while you could be doing your actual job, you're sitting in the corner like a child while you wait for someone (who's actually doing their job) to give you an order, like getting her a bottle of water or something.

you were going to speak up, but caroline had reached for the hospital phone and dialed four numbers before turning her back to you. you waited anxiously as the phone rang against caroline's ear. someone eventually picked up.

"asisat, can you bring me a book to 7?" caroline requests as she continued typing away. "bring a self-help book. like one of those 'self-improvement' ones and maybe another one in the feminine literature genre. thank you."

dr. graham hansen set the phone back into the holder then went back to work. you were contemplating asking her if she needed anything, but you didn't want to leave the room before getting to meet asisat. after three minutes of silence (aside from the light taping of the keys), there was a knock at the door.

"enter." dr. graham hansen commanded plainly.

you were hoping to meet osho, but the door opened to reveal dr. putellas. you and dr. graham hansen were perplexed to see the tall woman at the door. dr. putellas looked down at you with a frown before shifting her gaze back to the woman occupied by the screen in front of her.

"you are quite a selfish woman, caroline." dr. putellas spat out nonchalantly. your eyes widened and the typing came to a halt. dr. putellas didn't care whatsoever. "this woman could be doing her job and you're keeping her hostage for the next six hours. you always do that and it's shameful."

dr. graham hansen glared at the latter through her reflection on the computer screen. "i don't always do that. irene grabs random nurses and attaches them to me. i'm completely independent."

"then you should tell irene to stop." dr. putellas responded.

"you think i didn't already?"

"no i don't think you did. you're incapable of basic socialization."

dr. graham hansen growled. "i remember telling asisat to bring the books, not you."

dr. putellas crossed her arms. "you did, but I knew those books weren't for you, but rather one of your hostages."

"so your purpose here is?"

"to confront you, that's all. if you're not going to use her, then let her continue her work."

you were about to jump into the mix, but dr. graham hansen slammed her hand down on the desk.

"then why don't you go complain to irene instead and leave me the hell alone? she's free to walk out of this room whenever she wants. no one but her own consciousness is stopping her." dr. graham hansen snapped and whipped her chair around to face dr. putellas.

"what in the world is going on here?" you hear irene asked from out in the hall. you look out to see her standing alongside dr. frido and a short police officer, who you recognized as mariona.

dr. graham hansen glared at both you and dr. putellas then at paredes. "get this little girl and her white knight away from me."

irene looked between the three of you. she knew that both alexia and caroline had issues with each other, for what reason? she does not know.

she beckoned you out of the room. "frido, please take her to the children's unit and bring osho down." she looked at alexia with a disapproving glare. "ale, my office now."

dr. putellas smirked at you before making her exit. frido and mariona waited for you out in the hall. you looked back at dr. graham hansen and she had the look of murder in her orbs. you quickly left the room.

"what is their problem?" mariona broke the silence after a minute of walking. "this has been happening since caro joined us a few years ago. is ale.... jealous or something?"

frido shrugged. "i'm not sure. i talked to osho and she's not sure what the deal is either. might want to ask patri."

you kept your mouth shut the whole time. there have been major events here and there at the hospital, but this was probably the biggest you've experienced. to be at the center of the issue this time felt so surreal, to have two intelligent women fight 'over' you warmed your insides. it made you feel like you were the main character of a love drama of some sort.

#alexia putellas #alexia x reader #alexia putellas x reader #caroline graham hansen #caroline graham hansen x reader #barcelona femeni #barcelona femeni x reader #barca femeni #barca femini x reader #woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #in sickness in health

[aesethewitch]

Ghosts 101

Spirit work has always been the ultimate base of my spiritual and magical practices. Some of my earliest clear memories are of encounters with spirits, and I’ve always had a talent for sensing them. In a horror movie setting, I’d be that person who gets the weird feeling in the hallway right before all the doors slam shut at once, feeling the shift in the air before whatever ghoul’s around makes its mischief.

I mention this right out of the gate so that you, the reader, know that most of what I know about ghosts (and spirits in general) comes from personal experience. Not books, not videos, not other people’s work. There’s a lot of UPG in this little essay. Just keep that in mind as you read.

If there’s something you disagree with or have different experiences with, I’m not surprised! Everything in the realm of spirits, including ghosts, can really only be theorized about. Disagreeing opinions, experiences, and theories are very, very welcome. Drop ‘em in the replies, reblogs, or my inbox. Or, if you want, make a post of your own and tag me in it. I want to see them!

Anyways, with that lengthy UPG disclaimer out of the way, let’s get to the good stuff.

What is a Ghost?

I think it’s important to note, though kind of obvious, that ghosts are a sub-category of spirit. All ghosts are spirits, but not all spirits are ghosts. But what is a ghost, exactly?

As with most things, theories differ. In general, ghosts are thought to be… well, dead people. Some folks think that ghosts are the soul, essence, or spirit of a person who has died. Others believe that ghosts are just a fragment of a person’s spirit. But I’ve also seen theories stating that ghosts aren’t really ghosts, they’re echoes or imprints of human energy that once existed in a place.

Then, there are folks who think ghosts don’t exist at all. I can’t really blame them; empirical, repeatable proof of ghosts is tough to get in order to be satisfying in a scientific way. The only reason I personally believe in ghosts is because I’ve had several encounters that can’t otherwise be explained. Plus, for me, it goes hand-in-hand with other types of spirit work. Ghosts being real just makes sense with the framework I use to engage with the world.

So, obviously, there isn’t one single, concrete answer as to what a ghost is. We can only theorize.

My Theories

My personal theory aligns more or less with one of the more common theories. I think that ghosts are the lingering spirits of living beings who have died. Note I say living beings — some people think that only humans can become ghosts, but I think that any living thing can become one. In the case of plants and trees, ghosts behave somewhat differently than animals; but that’s a whole other conversation to be had. For the sake of this post, I plan on focusing mainly on human ghosts.

The way I understand it, ghosts are the whole, complete essence of a person that lingers in the physical realm for a time after their physical body no longer functions. I believe there are also energetic imprints — energy left over from the living, often (but not always) caused and fueled by strong emotions and lingering ties of memory in a place. These imprints can seem like a haunting, but the key difference is that they aren’t sentient. They may echo when you call, but they won’t give answers that are intelligent or timely according to questions asked or stimulus provided by the living. Sort of like recording a ringing bell; playing the bell’s chime back doesn’t ring the bell again. It just plays the sound it knows.

Now, death does funny things to the mind. Depending on the circumstances of the death, a ghost might have full awareness that they were alive, have died, and are now a ghost. I find this is most common for people who died of old age and long-term diseases: people who knew they were nearing the end, for one reason or another.

Ghosts formed from more sudden deaths, on the other hand, are likelier to not know what happened. They may figure it out given time, or they may never learn the truth. As with most other things dealing with individuals, the exact circumstances vary. No two ghosts are exactly the same. Some people don’t become ghosts at all, I’ve found! They simply move on.

Another important aspect of my theories on ghosts is that I think they fade. Unless they’re continually tied to a space, fed a steady supply of energy, and purposely kept in the physical realm, I believe that they can’t sustain a form here. Without a physical body to keep the spirit, soul, consciousness, or whatever we are, a ghost is gradually pulled into the more ethereal side of things. The astral plane, the other side, the afterlife, et cetera; I’m not sure, personally, where they end up. Maybe it depends on what they were attached to in life, maybe it doesn’t. Who knows!

I think this is where I draw the distinction between ghosts and ancestor spirits. “Ancestor spirits,” in my practice, aren’t individual people from my past. Rather, they’re a sort of collective consciousness made up of all the people who came before me who are connected to me through familial, cultural, and blood ties. I like to believe that ghosts become part of that collective when they fade out of the physical world. All this is to say, ghosts are just people who are dead. They won’t be around forever unless they’re bound and kept “fed.”

On Hauntings

The first half of the things everyone wants to know is: How do we know when a ghost is actually present? It’s a good question, one that’s hotly debated in ghost hunting circles. For the sake of argument, I think we need to define the word haunting first.

To be clear, a haunting isn’t just when a ghost is present. A ghost just passing through or lingering for a little while doesn’t necessarily make a haunting. That would be better described as a presence. A haunting, in my opinion, is a long-term, sustained presence of a ghost or imprint.

And the first step to dealing with a haunting is to determine whether the place you’re in is actually haunted. You don’t have to have super sensitive psychic powers to detect the presence of ghosts. Some folks might have an easier time of it than others, but anyone can learn how to discern when a ghost is hanging around.

It’s important to note that commonly-reported signs of ghost presences and hauntings are also symptoms of other issues like mold, electrical issues, pressure changes, carbon monoxide, stress and anxiety, noisy neighbors, animals outside or in the walls (including bugs), sleep apnea or insomnia, and more. It’s important to consider mundane reasons before leaping to magical, spiritual, or ghostly ones.

With that in mind, let’s say that you’ve ruled out all the mundane possibilities, and you’re still left wondering whether that place is capital-H Haunted. How can you tell?

In my experience, there are a few signs that will stick out:

Disembodied sounds, such as voices, knocking, and walking

A pervasive chill or prickling feeling, particularly on parts of the body that are covered

A feeling of being touched, poked, or prodded

Visual disturbances like mist or shadows

Sudden smells that can’t be explained, such as perfume, tobacco, or food

Batteries in things like phones and cameras draining very quickly

Now, note that even with these signs, a lot of these things can happen with spirits that aren’t ghosts. The only way to know for absolutely sure that you’re dealing with a ghost and not a mischievous, physical-realm-poking non-human spirit is to make contact and ask.

My fellow sensitive individuals may experience other signs during a haunting. Depending on where your abilities lie, you might experience stronger sensations or detect signs of a haunting earlier than others who haven’t trained these senses.

What Causes a Haunting?

It’s hard to say. Some people (particularly ghost hunters with big TV shows who need to make those viewer numbers go up) say that ghosts stick around because they’re pissed off or had some tragedy befall them in life. Trauma ties them to their surroundings, trapping them between life and death as a specter, or something like that.

Honestly, all that tells me is that these guys are trying to sell you something (their show). I’ve met maybe two ghosts that were like that, and they had extremely good reasons for it. That’s not to say there aren’t traumatized ghosts out there; just that they aren’t nearly as common or the only explanation for a haunting.

I’m personally not sure what causes some ghosts to linger over others. I think it does partly have to do with emotion, but it may also have to do with the amount of energy the person had left when they died. For example, the ghost of my great-aunt faded within a couple weeks after she died, because she was old, tired, and ready. On the other hand, the ghost of a guy I went to school with who died in an accident a few years ago is still lingering on the train tracks where it happened. It’s an extremely individual thing.

Another part of lingering ghosts and hauntings, I think, is interaction with the living. Without a physical body, the ghost has no native source of energy. Part of working with ghosts, for me, has been learning how to share energy (mine or from other sources) with ghosts to help them communicate, interact, and continue existing. When the energy runs out, they fade. With a steady supply of energy sources, a ghost could theoretically haunt a place indefinitely.

So, what causes a haunting? I don’t really know for sure! What causes a haunting to linger? A steady source of energy, I think.

Making Contact

So, you want to talk to a ghost. Cool! You’ve got a ton of options at your disposal.

There are the witch-typical methods of spirit communication, most of which would work fairly well for talking to ghosts. I’ve talked a little bit about spirit communication methods before in a more general sense, but I find that ghosts don’t always respond well to divination.

In my experience, simpler tools are better. Unless I knew for a fact that a person understood tarot in life, I would be unlikely to use it to talk to their ghost. Tools you can easily explain that provide clear answers would likely serve you best for most ghosts. My biggest suggestions are pendulums, which are easy for ghosts to understand and manipulate, and ouija boards. Yes, yes, I can hear the gasping and booing already.

Listen. Ouija boards are not evil. Ouija is a game. But talking boards really are good tools for talking to ghosts. Again, they’re easy to understand and manipulate. Plus, you can get really clear answers from a talking board if your ghost is chatty.

There are other tools that have been popularized by ghost hunters that may come in handy, too. Personally, I’ve had success with voice recorders catching EVP (electronic voice phenomena) and, on one notable occasion, a ghost box.

Honestly, I’ve had little use for tools like these outside of ghost hunting scenarios where we’re trying to prove ghosts’ existence in a scientific sense. Voice recorders catching wisps of voice in the background are super cool, and I definitely would suggest having one on hand when doing a ghost adventure. But they’re not great for in the moment communication, since you have to stop a recording to listen back to it and then react who knows how long later.

Where ghost boxes are concerned, I’ve only had the one opportunity to try it out. We were in a location I knew to be haunted thanks to previous visits, and it did seem to work okay. I’d like to try it again sometime to see if it was just a fluke or if it’s an actual, viable thing to use. With any tool commonly used in ghost hunting TV shows (or that’s otherwise Popular By Spectacle), I always approach with serious skepticism. Those shows are all about creating a reaction that can be captured; and when they don’t receive a response, they’re liable to make shit up for the cameras. It’s annoying, especially when a tool might really be useful but it’s shrouded in the very necessary skepticism around these shows.

Now, my personal go-to method to connect to ghosts is to just… talk to them. I don’t usually need to use any tools for it. But I’ve spent many, many, many years honing the skills needed to do this. It’s worth learning how to do if you plan on working with spirits, but it does take effort to get good at, even if you have an innate talent for it. If you can, take some time to develop a sense for spirits. Learn what spiritual presences feel like for you. You may not get immediate results at first, but the skill of sensing energy can apply across the board. And even if you get no “real” response, you can still talk to the ghosts.

When you go to communicate with a ghost, just remember that they’re still a person. They’re not a spectacle, though they are fascinating. Not all ghosts are going to want to talk to you. Not all ghosts are going to like you. Be respectful. Treat that ghost like you’d treat any stranger out in the wild. Don’t be an asshole.

On Mediumship

This is mostly just a brief note, since it’s an adjacent topic that I’ve gotten questions about before.

Not everyone who talks to or works with ghosts is a medium. A medium is a particular career or path that describes someone who acts as a connector between the living and the dead. I tend to think of mediums as the telephone in a conversation — relaying messages back and forth. I used to do medium work all the time. It’s an exhausting path that requires a lot of self-discipline and solid boundaries dealing with both the living and the dead. I don’t do it anymore, though I do still communicate and work with ghosts regularly.

Just keep in mind that you don’t have to take on the title or mantle of “medium” in order to talk to, work with, or research ghosts.

Ghostly Q&A

I received a handful of questions about ghosts in the run up to posting this; thank you everyone who sent in a question! If you’ve got a question and want my perspective on it, feel free to drop it in my inbox or in the replies/reblogs of this post.

From @moonmargaritas: “How do you tell the difference between nervousness at discerning the presence of a ghost (new practitioner who still gets jitters 🤙) and sensing actual hostile intent?”

This is a really great question! This is something I had to work through myself when I got started. And honestly, I still get jitters sometimes many years later! It can be scary, even when you’re used to it.

The biggest piece of advice I have is to learn how your body experiences nervousness or anxiety. Where does that sit in your body? What kind of feelings to you experience?

For me, nervousness is a sort of itchy tingling around my shoulders and tightness around my ribs. It also manifests as the feeling of being watched or observed too closely. It’s easy to misattribute those feelings to a ghost’s presence — tingling and feeling like something’s watching? Those are classic ghost interactions! But I know that’s what anxiety feels like. That’s how I feel when the lights go out too fast or I hear a branch snap in the distance.

Once you know, you can work past those feelings and focus on what’s actually happening with the ghost (or spirit). I think of it like knowing when someone’s mad at me. Are they mad, or am I just anxious? It’s the same idea.

And, as a note, ghosts with hostile intent are few and far between. I personally don’t think that most ghosts, even the nastiest ghosts, can actually hurt you; they don’t have the energy resources for it. The ones that do are obvious, and you won't really have to question their intentions. However, you can always work with the communication methods mentioned above to determine the ghost’s feelings and intents. If you’re worried about negative interactions, a bit of salt and rosemary in a little pouch placed in your pocket goes a long way for protection.

From anonymous: “What’s an unusual way people could use to communicate with spirits? Like an expected divination tool or something we should pay more attention to.”

Hmmmm! Honestly, I think that classic, actual call and response is underrated specifically when it comes to ghosts. Yeah, we’ve all seen the Ghost TV Guys call out for a knock or a word or whatever, but when they get a response, they wig out and don’t do anything with it. It’s annoying!! Because genuinely, saying “tap once for yes, twice for no” and asking questions is a really, really solid way to communicate with a ghost when you have no other tools that will work on hand. I’ve had ghosts lead me to important places and objects within houses doing this. I think more people should give it a try without falling prey to the over-the-top reaction of “DID YOU HEAR THAT?!”

From anonymous: What advice would you give someone dealing with a haunting?

For a run-of-the-mill, regular old haunting? Let it run its course. Most hauntings, when left alone, will fade. However, if you’re inclined to talk to the ghost(s), get them to leave quicker, or get them to be less intrusive in your life, there are a few things you could do.

To talk to them, choose a method of communication and try to reach out like I described above. Get to know them if you can, and set some ground rules. If they won’t (or can’t) communicate with you, and you really want them gone, I would probably recommend a gentle banishing ritual. Something that doesn’t scream “get out” so much as kindly say, “It’s time to move on.”

Or, if you don’t want the ghost gone, just a little quieter at night or out of your bedroom, you could set up wards or activity-dampeners around specific spaces. Choose ingredients and spells that protect against unwanted spirits or just unwanted activity. Keep it activated all day long or just at night while you’re trying to sleep.

Thanks for Reading!

Posts like this are usually put on my Ko-Fi as exclusives first, but since the questions in this one came from Tumblr, I decided to post it in both places at once! (:

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If you've got Ghost Questions, shoot 'em my way! My inbox is open.

#aese speaks #spirit work #ghosts #talking to ghosts #hauntings #paranormal #witchcraft #witchblr #witch community #this post is Super Basic #it was going to have More Details but like. it was getting TOO long yknow #so. this is uhhhh part one #ghost post series

[octuscle]

Hotel room: filthy chav tf

It was an imposition. An absolute imposition. Having to spend the night in a youth hostel was unbelievable. But in a triple room? Without your own bathroom? Using a communal shower room? That had to be a joke. Yes, his company had to cut costs. There was a new travel policy that banned five-star hotels and business class flights. All well and good. But a youth hostel?!?!?!?!! He called the travel agency and insulted his colleague in the worst possible way. She just replied dryly that everything else was fully booked because of the trade fair and that she had even written Alexander an e-mail asking if the booking was okay. And he had replied with a curt "yes". Unfortunately, there was nothing more she could do, he was still on the waiting list for two hotels. But if there was no answer by now…

Alexander moved into his room. It smelled like a lad's changing room in a community school on a council estate. Of course, he had no idea what it smelled like. But that's how he imagined the stench. Without greeting or acknowledging the teenager lying on the bed playing with his cell phone, Alexander went to the window and pulled it open. "Oi, did someone crap in yer head, mate? Shut that window, innit?" the chav yelled at him. "I don't understand a word you're saying," Alexander replied and began to unpack his suitcase. I don't know how the chav could live like this, he thought to himself. He needed order. He then changed into his bedding, which he saw as a further humiliation, and lay down on the bed. The chav was listening to music so loud that Alexander could clearly hear the bass. He found it more than annoying. But he tried to ignore it. He put on his headset and called his fiancée. Alexander assumed that the chav lying in the bed above him couldn't hear anything, as loud as he was listening to music. So he complained without a care in the world and blasphemed about the young man with the disturbed relationship to personal hygiene and the impossible haircut. "Honey, I have to stop, I have to get out of here and have lunch somewhere civilized." Alexander ended his phone call. He looked up. And he was looking at a dirty white sock.

"Oi, I'm Callum, but me mates call me Cal. So you call me Callum. Did ya just say my smell's botherin' ya? I thought posh gits like you love the scent of real man's feet." Alexander almost threw up. Without saying anything, he jumped up, grabbed his coat and left the room. He had a lunch date with an old school friend at a trendy steak restaurant. It was supposed to distract him and save the evening as much as possible. As he stood in the subway, he wondered what the devil had possessed him not to take a cab. It smelled almost as bad here as in his hotel room. Suddenly he realized that the smell was coming from his armpits. Damn, had he forgotten the deodorant this morning? The journey seemed like an eternity. People wrinkled their noses. My God, that was embarrassing. In the restaurant, he went to the toilet first, wet a towel, took off his shirt and jacket and wiped his armpits. In the stress, he didn't even notice that instead of a white microfiber undershirt with a V-neck, he was wearing a worn-out, yellowed fine rib undershirt. The waiter eyed him a little disparagingly as he brought him to his table. His friend was already sitting there and stood up to greet him. Alexander gave him a fist bump. His friend looked irritated and returned the greeting. "My best man, what kind of ghetto attitudes are these? At least it goes with your casual footwear." Alexander looked at the floor. He was wearing rather expensive-looking sneakers. And white socks. He stammered something about a suitcase that had gone missing and that he'd been a bit stressed. His friend grinned a little disparagingly and poured Alexander a glass of red wine.

The conversation was somehow wooden. Marcus told stories from their school days. But Alexander couldn't remember any of them. The wine was quite tasty, the steak was too rare for him, but he didn't dare complain. With lots of ketchup, it was fine. When the waiter asked if he should pour more wine, Alexander replied with his mouth full "Oi mate, gimme a big beer, yeah? And some mayo with them chips." The rest of the meal passed in silence. All you could hear was Alexander smacking his lips. And after he had finished, a loud and passionate burp. Marcus looked horrified at first. Then he laughed uproariously and burped at least as loudly. "Blimey, mate! That was a good one. Now off for a fag and a fart outside?" "You can proper bet on it, mate. Got a spare cig for us?".

Marcus and Alexander had to put their last few pounds together to pay. The waiter looked disgustedly at the stale bills. "You got a problem, mate? Our money not good enough for ya? What's it gonna take for a blowie, eh? Would ya prefer that?" Alexander could barely stop Marcus from starting a fight with the waiter. He waved for security. A few minutes later, the two chavs were thrown out the back exit.

The evening was still young. Alex called Cal to see if he would like to have a beer in the pub at the youth hostel and watch the game. Cal replied that he had just taken a punter up to the room and had to fuck him first. Blimey, Cal was always lucky. Mack suggested he stand by the mess hall exit. Maybe you could pick up a customer there too. Alex looked in his wallet. He was broke again. He could do with a few pounds. They had at least managed to scrounge two fags from a passer-by. The evening was off to a good start. And at some point it would end with a hot threesome in their room.

Pics found @maennersneakersockenfuesseskins and @belgiquecuir

#male tf #reality change #chav tf #straight to gay

[apalapucian]

pureblood parties are always so unnecessarily dim. like vampire dens. or how james imagines them to be, at least. cascading velvet. candlelight. it’s especially pretentious now, he thinks, with the theme being masquerade, the elaborate masks making everyone look the same. not human. an entirely new species between veelas and peacocks, all jewels and feathers.

he doesn't feel like himself without his glasses as well. and he just — doesn't feel real in general, stirred in here among them. like he's an oil painting of himself. he glides through the crowd and feels colors drip in his wake.

he finds lily by the punch table, nursing a crystal goblet, drinking molten gold.

his gait falters. his heart does also.

(lily always looks clear to him. real and human. all her colors entirely to herself.)

"any sign of him?" he asks when he reaches her. he’s been scouring the ballroom for their target tonight — a ministry official the order suspects has been imperiused — to no luck.

"no," she says, gaze sweeping the crowd. "and god, this dress is so itchy."

"shame. you look like a million galleons in it."

she turns to him, million-galleon smile on. "i’m surprised you can put a definite price on it."

"aw, don’t feel bad. it’s just an expression. you know i think you’re priceless."

"yeah?"

he grins. in answer, he asks, "wanna dance?"

and so they dance.

the song is a slow waltz, grand orchestra. it sounds like one of his mum's favorites. he can't name it though. there's just that vague, soft-lit memory: his mum's smile, his dad's wrinkled hands.

his dance partner's attention is still on the crowd.

"maybe he’s not here," he says. his attention is entirely on her. 

"maybe," she says. "i just don't want to... waste the night."

"well, if we have fun while we're at it, it won't be a waste at all."

she smiles. with him now, fully. "and do you mean dancing like this, or — ?"

"or," he answers. "decidedly or."

she laughs. "really? here?"

"why not?"

"uh, because? we're surrounded by enemies?"

"the risk — ah, how do i put it — elevates the experience, won't you say? and it's not like we haven't done it before."

she stops waltzing. "you're serious."

"it's james, actually. sirius is at home."

she laughs again. then, chin up and smirking, his hand in hers, she leads him out of the dance floor.

—

the wall is cold against his back, and, even worse, it's uneven; one of those stupid pureblood family trees carved on marble. once by themselves she starts kissing him like she's in a great hurry, hands all over. james lets her.

the floors here are so black and so shiny it looks like they're floating on a lake. the one at hogwarts, specifically. he kissed lily there for the first time. by it. the trunk of the beech tree he was pressed against at the time was uneven too, but lily was warm on him. and soft. and perfect.

(god, you're too much, she told him that day, coming up for air, lips almost as red as her hair. a fucking goddess. 

you're alright, i guess, he replied, just some regular mortal. it made her laugh so much though. and james reckons making her laugh feels close enough to playing god.)

the light is sparse here, now; just whatever filters in through the giant windows and the cracks between doors. the crescent moon is somehow reflected by james's feet. a ridiculous thought, stepping on the moon. he thinks of remus.

she sucks on his pulse point just then, sighing something against his skin, and james seizes that moment of distraction — tightens his grip on her waist and turns them in one swift movement so she's against the wall. she gasps, back hitting the grooves and ridges with a thud.

he looks down at her. although still wide-eyed, she's looking at him an entirely different way now. he takes her mask off. his hands are shaking. he hopes she doesn't notice. she probably doesn't; the mask's barely left her face and she's reaching up to unbutton his shirt further, nip on his collarbone, too preoccupied to notice much else. it's so hard to catch her eyes here, so frantic and so dark. her reds are all bruise-purple. her green all wrong.

he takes her cold, roaming hands, puts them together, then singlehandedly pins her wrists above her head. she likes that, watched him do it throughout, breath hitching.

then she feels the cold sharp blade against her neck.

she doesn't like that. quite expectedly.

"what the fuck?" she snaps, trying to break free at once. "what are you doing?"

"nothing yet," says james, holding on, ironclad. "but scream and you'll find out."

she keeps quiet, makes a show of pressing her lips together. she glares but doesn't dare move, the glinting end of the dagger too close to skin.

"first," james says, voice low, "you're going to drop your wand."

she complies. the wand clatters on the floor, the sound echoing in the empty hall.

"and then my wand."

her eyes widen, mouth falling open in shock. slowly, defeatedly, she does as she's told.

"good. now you're going to tell me where the fuck my wife is."

"i — but james — "

the tip of the dagger stains red. just the tip of it. barely there. shift and you miss it. except her. or him. whoever the fuck this is doesn't miss it. they press themselves best they can against the wall, but the sting's already started, and there's nowhere to go.

james tilts his head and looks them dead in the eye. "do i seriously look like i'll buy it right now?"

he watches them consider, feels their heart thunder under his weapon hand. the consideration turns to doubt. then it turns to fear. "i'll tell you," they say. it's lily's voice, frenzied and scared, and james wants to scream. wants to sink the blade lower. "i'll tell you," they insist. it's not her, james begs himself to remember. lily is always clear. with her, wherever, the colors are never wrong. "just — please. i'll tell you everything i know, please don't hurt me — "

"oh, if lily is hurt in any way at all," james interrupts, his own heart raging in his chest. "rest assured that people will get hurt." the blade drags, thin red line appearing. he stares at it. he didn't mean to do that. it takes all of his remaining self-control to draw his eyes back up and still his hand.

not her. not her.

not lily.

" — and you're first on my list."

#jily #jily* #james potter #lily evans #marauders era #apalapucian* #ugh good night this one came out of nowhere and wouldnt let me sleep until i'd posted it and IM SO TIREDDD. sorry if it's a bit clunky #i'll edit tomorrow maybe #heres a thing! byeee

[homestuckreplay]

Homestuck Is A Game, Who Is The Player?

Week 3 Retrospective

'Video games have long been associated with spectatorship as well as play, from their origins in quarter-fueled arcades, where high score displays implied the presence of admiring or competitive spectators, to their migration to home screens and consoles. Live streaming chat emulates these older models, but its interaction with economies of scale on streaming platforms brings a different kind of intimacy and intensity to the experience. Chat lets spectators feel like they are there with the streamer as well as a part of a crowd, even if they are alone in their room.' [Jeremy Antley - emphasis mine]

From Homestuck’s very first page, the comic has made something clear. We are not allowed to immerse ourselves in John Egbert’s world. There is a layer of separation between us, an interface mediating our access to his life and story, a voiceover narration from the person who’s really in control. Who is this person, and what form does their control over John take?

Homestuck is presented like a video game, yet unlike a video game, we don’t control the character’s movements with arrow keys or have the chance to type our own commands directly into the text box. Instead of being able to explore the game on our own terms, we are confined to a specific and predetermined route, even though others seem theoretically possible. Simply put, we are not the ones playing the game.

Essay continued under the cut - about 2.6k words

I think there are two really important questions to consider when analyzing the meta elements of Homestuck and treating it as a game. The first - what kind of game is it? The second - where exactly do we stand in relation to the player(s)?

The most obvious answer to question one is ‘Homestuck is a text based adventure game.’ This guide to text based adventures is a great overview, and we can map the example commands here onto commands we’ve seen in Homestuck. ‘Examine room’ (p.4) is a one-word action, ‘Captchalogue smoke pellets’ (p.9) is an action and direct object, and ‘Nail poster to wall’ (p.19) includes the indirect object. John hasn’t given any orders yet - he’s too nice a guy for that - but ‘Report progress to TG’ (p.39) is definitely communicating with another character. All of these, and most other command lines, feel like reasonable instructions that could be recognized by a game.

However, commands like ‘Fondly regard cremation’ (p.52) and ‘Play haunting piano refrain’ (p.77) honestly feel too characterful to be fully interpreted by a computer, and ‘Squawk like an imbecile and shit on your desk’ (p.16) is… well, I tried typing this into the command prompt for the classic text adventure Zork, and got the following response.

A text adventure is just not set up to interpret wacky, left field ideas, much less respond to them in an entertaining way. And we know there is a real person behind Homestuck doing exactly that.

If my party enters the wizard’s study in Dungeons & Dragons 4th Edition, and I tell the Dungeon Master that I squawk like an imbecile and sit on the wizard’s desk, that statement will be understood. Sure, the DM will probably call me an idiot and put a nasty spike trap on the desk, but what I said will become part of the story in the way that a nonsense command in a text based video game never can. It’s interesting to think of Homestuck as a tabletop roleplaying game, where the narrator is the Game Master, the command prompt is a player, and John is a player character (presumably TT, TG and GG are the rest of his party and they’re just really late to the session).

Homestuck isn’t just text based, though - it has a strong visual element, including interfaces and overlays where the player can click and drag items between John’s inventory and his environment, or around his space. This suggests it could also be a point and click adventure game, a genre that grew out of text based games as graphics improved, and is defined by a strong inventory management component (check), puzzle solving quests (check - we’ve recently solved our first quest of acquiring the Sburb Beta) and dialog trees (????). The sprite based, isometric art style is really good for getting an overview of the space and seeing possible interactable objects, and Homestuck does feature extended dialog sequences - we don’t know if there are other possible inputs from John, but it's interesting to think that there might be.

These three genres - text based adventures, point and click adventures, and tabletop roleplaying games - all developed throughout the 1970s and 80s. It’s reasonable that Andrew Hussie (born 1979) could have grown up with some of these games. But to answer the second question, ‘where do we stand in relation to the player’, we might need to look at media forms still in their infancy - let’s plays, livestreams, and actual play.

[Michael Sawyer, 2004]

In the past few years, ‘Let’s Play [Game]’ has become a relatively popular thread format on the Something Awful forums, as well as personal websites. This began with posters taking screenshots of their playthroughs of a game and adding commentary in the text. The medium has now advanced to video and is typically hosted on YouTube, with commentary overlaid. Either format gives a creator the space to play through as much of the game as they choose, and then edit exactly what content they want to show to the audience, providing commentary after the fact. 

Homestuck, with its per-page illustrations, could be seen as a long thread of forum posts by the player, each including screenshots as they move through the game. The inclusion of short Flash animations shows the edge into video, and makes me wonder if we’ll see longer or more complex videos, perhaps with voiceover narration, as Homestuck expands its focus. The self-referential and aggressive yet helpful commentary in Homestuck is similar in tone to Sawyer's playthrough above, and could easily be the work of a player who knows where the story will go, at least in the short term, and is dropping hints to the audience while purposefully concealing some things.

Livestreaming video games is a similar concept to Let's Plays, but performed in real time. Often hosted on Justin.tv, an open video broadcast website that’s been gaining prominence in the past couple of years, a livestream is an improvised and unedited way to watch someone game. Any commentary from the creator happens without knowledge of how the playthrough will turn out. Homestuck, by Hussie’s own admission, is being written similarly in real life - they don’t know more than the broad strokes of how the story will go, and it’s possible that neither the author nor the narrator knows the long term implications of an action such as John stealing his dad’s PDA. 

Livestreams open the possibility for viewers to influence game events, if the streamer listens to their audience. We know this is true in Homestuck - readers are able to submit commands, and some are chosen for the story. The real time nature of Homestuck, waiting each day for the new update, is equivalent to waiting for a streamer to come online and start playing again so we can find out where their game goes next. This is compounded by us having no access to Homestuck outside of the streamer - we cannot buy and play this game for ourselves, it’s still in some kind of early or limited access, and the streamer controls all our knowledge. 

The livestream is definitely most similar to how Homestuck is made by its author, but it's hard to say whether its narrator is commentating in real time, or after the fact. I can't find any definite clues in our pages so far - I think the narrator wants to seem smart and superior, but I can't say whether they have the knowledge to back it up.

[img source]

Our final media format is known as Actual Play. Almost a year ago, the creators of Penny Arcade (along with Dungeons & Dragons game designer Chris Perkins) began releasing Acquisitions Incorporated, a short-run, officially licensed podcast where the group plays through a D&D adventure to demonstrate gameplay interspersed with jokes. This isn’t the first time a TTRPG publisher has recorded sessions to help people learn the game, but this idea seems to be crossing over into the entertainment genre - and webcomics are part of that movement.

In the first episode, the group have a brief aside. The DM says that ‘some players prefer to refer to their characters in the third person… others prefer to get into the first,’ and one player says they’ve observed the same thing in World of Warcraft. What’s not explicitly said is that the Game Master typically refers to the player characters in second person, describing what happens to ‘you’ and what ‘you’ see - much like streamers talking to their chat. The blocks of narrative text below pictures in Homestuck could easily be a Game Master balancing giving information to an unruly player, and providing entertainment for the audience. John’s lucky or unlucky moments with his sylladex could be the result of particularly good or bad dice rolls from his unseen player.

Actual play is a really great format for deep diving into a small cast of characters, and exploring their emotional state in ways that aren't intrinsic to a lot of video games. As we're already seeing the beginnings of John's emotional arc, we know this will be a focus, but we need two to four more characters with equally large roles in the story to really form a TTRPG party. Actual play also tends to include a lot of combat and its mechanics. We know Homestuck can handle crunchy mechanics due to the sylladex, but I'd expect to see the Strife concept become just as in depth and central to the story if Homestuck ends up fitting into this mold.

All three of these formats can have a mass audience, just like Homestuck does in reality - but Homestuck also feels like a very personal experience. Two people playing the same video game, even a highly linear game such as Portal or one that doesn’t involve much active interaction such as a visual novel, have slightly different gameplay based on the speed they move through the story and their missteps on the way to finding the solution to a puzzle. 

Similarly, my experience of Homestuck is different from yours. I read the new update every day, while I know some people wait for a few days of updates to build up and then read a larger chunk. Maybe I clicked ‘Aggrieve’ and ‘Abjure’ three times each on p.90, alternating the options, while you clicked ‘Aggrieve’ five times in sequence and then ‘Abjure’ only twice. Maybe I didn’t realize p.110 had an interactive element at first, and skipped over it until somebody pointed it out to me (really telling on myself here). These elements of Homestuck that we have direct control over are currently only a small part of the story, but they do exist.

In this way, Homestuck feels a little bit like sitting in the living room as a kid watching your older brother play a game, begging him to let you take over for a minute, occasionally doing so until he gets frustrated with your inability to Strife and takes the controller back. The nostalgia of the simplistic graphics and the 70s and 80s games that are being evoked only adds to this cozy feeling. If Homestuck starts to add more interactive elements, such as branching paths, opportunities for us to take over the cursor, or a chance for us to use John’s sylladex ourselves and choose what he picks up, it might be worth thinking of Homestuck as different iterations of the same game, each of us watching our own, slightly different player, and even co-playing with them.

So, who IS this narrator? In my mind, I’m trying to draw a clear distinction between the author and the narrator. Hussie is the author in the real world, and the narrator, or player, or GM, exists within the work. Their role is best described on page 82:

‘The game presently eluding you is only the latest sleight of hand in the repertoire of an unseen riddler, one to engender a sense not of mirth, but of lack. His coarse schemes are those less of a prankster than a common pickpocket. His riddle is Absence itself.’

The narrator is this unseen riddler (or perhaps unseenRiddler?), providing a secondary layer of control over what happens and what we are able to see. They’re the person clicking and dragging objects around John’s room, and choosing what actions to take next. The narration is their perspective on the game - whether we see this as a GM describing a scene to their players, or a streamer reading aloud information that the game has given them and providing their own commentary. 

So, we're watching the narrator play Homestuck, in whatever form it takes - but there's another layer to this. On page 22, an equivalence is made between the Sburb Beta, which John was supposed to receive on April 10 (and finally acquired on April 13 in-story, p.100), and the Homestuck Beta, which launched to us on April 10, but was quickly canceled and replaced with Homestuck proper on April 13. The Homestuck beta is linked within the comic, and might be canon within it - the narrator making an initial run at the game before restarting their save (perhaps on a different computer or console?) and trying again. Homestuck the game is currently about a kid who lives in the suburbs - and if the name and logo are anything to go by, Sburb could also be a suburbs-themed game. While we watch the riddler play Homestuck, the riddler will be watching John play the game Sburb. How deep does this go? Are there more layers inwards or outwards?

I’ve been puzzling this over for days, and I’m definitely left with more questions than I can answer. Here are the ones I'm focused on:

Is the unseen riddler playing the game as intended? Now that they’ve passed the tutorial, are they keeping the game on the rails and trying their best to follow a linear story, or are they pushing the boundaries, going for some kind of pacifist or resource-stripped run, trying to interfere with John’s intended story? Have they played the game before, and if so, how does this affect their gameplay?

If the unseen riddler is a character within the story, distinct from the external author, are we the true audience? Will there be an audience within the story, or perhaps other players? If so, how big will it be? What kind of reach does Homestuck the game have, and how many people are playing it or tuning in to watch?

How permeable are the boundaries? Is John simply pixels on a screen for the unseen riddler to play with, with no agency of his own outside of the riddler’s interpretation, like if we were playing The Sims? Or is it possible for the riddler to enter the game, or for John to leave it, and the two of them to communicate directly? Or a middle ground - something like ‘character bleed’ in TTRPGs, where a player embodies a character for so long that despite their not being real, they come to influence each other even outside of gameplay?

What the hell is the Midnight Crew? Is this a different game that exists separately to Homestuck? Will our riddler, or a different one, eventually play it? If we have three games - Homestuck, Midnight Crew, and Sburb - what exactly is the relationship between them, and how interrelated are they?

This is a lot of thoughts for what is, at time of writing, is 125 pages of comedy webcomic. But the story is just beginning, and we’ve been told it’s going to be a long day. Anything could be important, and with the frequent in-text nods to the meta elements - ‘examine third and fourth walls of room’ (p.61), ‘you decide it’s time for less meta, and more beta’ (p.113), the title appearing in the clouds on p.82 that John may or may not be able to see, the integration of the physical captchalogue card into the sylladex interface on p.98 - I don’t want to draw any firm boundaries, or make any assumptions about what is and what isn’t part of the story. Instead, I’ve cataloged the meta elements of Homestuck that might be worth paying attention to as we move through the comic, to develop a more concrete theory in time.

#running up against 'need to take classes in academic writing / get a professor to grade my homestuck papers' #also running up against the idea of 'can i cite things from later than 2009' it's helpful but does go against the spirit of the bit kinda #homestuck #analysis #im open to thoughts and feedback always

[shuenkio]

"Enhypen"

Red string with you˚⊹ ᰔ

Paring: Enha X m!reader

Genre: fluff, emotion, love

Red string theory

Do not copy my works (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)⁠♥

CRD to all divider

Some parts are overdo words ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

Heeseung: Living a life as a musician he is, are sure lonely, all alone because he spends all his time every single day in the studio, morning to noon, noon to night, night to midnight, recycling over and over again. One day, when going to the party with his friends, they brought up the love topic and asked him if he had a partner like them, they had been waiting for him to have a romantic life forever yet the man still had no one. He got the look, got money, got everything, just like everyone's dream of. He just responds with a slow nod, he also waiting for some perfect time to have someone by his side however it's like the more he's waiting, the longer it gets. Once the party's over, he waves goodbye to his friends before making his way back home by walking since his apartment is not too far, he chooses to take a nice walk under the snowy rain. The walk seemed so pleasant and cold watching the snowflakes fall above him, making him realize a lot of things he never did before. As he keeps moving his feet zoning out, unexpectedly he bumps into a person who's also lost in their world. Both of them fall to the ground, gathering all their consciousness back before opening their eyes to see you intend your arm open to give them support.

"H-hey sorry to bump into you, are you alright?" He looks at you who's standing on top of him, along with a light street behind you hitting your back, making you look unreal and breathtaking. suddenly he feels like the world has stopped moving when you look at him, you're like someone that God sent to him, his heartbeat does a backflip. "You're the one... For me, I feel it"

Jay: The same goes with him. money? Millions. Look? Hot. Car and house? Check ✓ love? Loading. Born in such a wealthy family, when you seek real love would be a different story. Yes, you can have all the love you want with money, but money can't buy such thing as true love isn't it? It's required your efforts, sweat and tears to get "true love". On the way to his office, with his luxury business bag, an elevator, was about to close suddenly you appeared and quickly waved your hand as a signal for him to stop it for you. Once you enter, you thank him before standing beside him. The moment you make eye contact with him, he feels like his heart telling him you're the missing pieces he had been searching for all along, must make him, his!! "Be my boyfriend!!!" M/n answer "Pardon?" [Too short sorry shawty]

Jake: As the outgoing person he is, he knows what's best for himself and he doesn't need nobody telling him what he needs but as time forward, all his love leaves him for good with the only one reason "looks " Then he realizes they only love him for a short time because of his looks, they got bored with him. Is he just showing his true self? Why is it so hard for him to find someone suitable for him, who's made just for him? God loved giving a hard time, didn't he? Bar! It's the only place they understood him the most. He went to the bar and took a lot of shots, giving himself to the alcohol but no matter how much he drank, he was still sober just a slightly hot throat. You then also came to the bar, and it's happened to sit next to him since all the seats are all pack. You're also ordering the same drink as him too which makes him want to talk to you. Both of you are talking, and giggles how similar your life is before he said "Let's write our story into a better plot together, shall we? I know you're that person who can make my day brighter, I don't care about society against us, we can fight it aren't we?"

Sunghoon: He had some dark past with love. It's not his fault that he was an introvert, loved his comfort zone, used a cold tone whenever talking, and didn't like skin ship much. This is the reason why most people leave him too for their good he is cold, and can't bear him anymore. After all his ugly memory he started to become more heartless, even colder than before, and won't give a chance to anybody again. He's now a single young adult, living his life peacefully. However, the more he cut ties with people, the more isolated he felt. He needed someone, he needed somebody who could be here with him, accept for who he was, someone who was the same way as him. Ultimately he went to relax at his comfort place, the ice rink. As he moves his feet forward, his hand tucked inside his pocket, Out of the blue, You run into him, to your skating shoe won't stop moving as a result of a fall onto the top of him. Embarrassed, your hands are on his chest, you quickly get up and are about to apologize therefore he grips your body tight, and won't let go yet before asking. "I feel like we know each other before, have we?" Blushing, you said no. He continues "No, I mean... For real you're the person who always appears in my dream!!"

Sunoo: The social butterfly, there he goes again, making friends even when he was on the way to work, on the way home, whenever he saw someone he'd ask them how was their day, are they were okay, are they doing well, if they need something just tell him. He's perfect, not to mention that everyone had their flaws but for him, it's almost perfect from head to toe, he had friends, family, socialized well, didn't fear no one, and liked to speak what was on his mind, kind, and everyone's definitely like him. One thing he's lacking is love, he's always giving everyone his love, and comfort words, for everyone's needs but did his love return to him? No. Sometimes he questions himself is he worth it? Did all his hard work pay off? He knows only very few like him for how happy he is, and not his true self. Little did they know he was craving for attention and love back. Consequently, God answered his prayer. Holiday arrived, and when he was cleaning his room, he heard someone knocking on his apartment's door. He went to open it and revealed you checking the room number. He greets you with his bright smile before taking you in(roommate). Day after day, both of him and you become more comfortable with each other, and feel just right when together. And surprisingly he confesses his feeling to you. "I want to start my life with you M/N! The moment you came in I felt like a string had been connected, you are my home, my everything now, please accept this love of mine"

Jungwon: He's fine, he's ok, everything is alright, that's what he said to everyone concerned about him. He doesn't need anything, even love or he's just denying it? He might not need someone at the moment but surely fate will bring him someone whom, he never knew he needed before. he likes to take care of people surrounding him while taking all their worry and weight on his shoulders, alone. And now he said he doesn't need someone to take care of him when he has this kind of idiot thinking, put others before himself. As a result, fate plans to give him someone worthy of him. In a normal day of practicing taekwondo, when he went back home, earphones plugged inside his ear, without notice, someone bumped into him and spilled a drop of coffee on his shirt. "Hey watch where you going dude!!-" he paused. "I- I'm so sorry let me take my napkin" You take your napkin from your pocket before wiping it for him. "you seem familiar, are you around here?" He asked "Nope, but I also feel the same way, you look like someone I knew before" as you answered his question, a biker came from a distance and was about to drive past you two before you could do anything, he grabbed your shoulder turning you around before covering all the mud that's splashing on him. Both of your eyes meet, and explore each other for a second. "Now I know what my grandma means, the red string is real"

Ni-ki: "He looks mean" "He's so intimidating", "ugh I wish you were more friendly " and "Don't date him, he won't be worth it" Those words are like a knife, that's stabbing through his chest, just for a lil of love, why it is so hard. Is it because of how he looks? But who can change their look when they are born with it? Just to please the public eye? Or just to be in relationships? Won't be worth it. Living our life to the fullest would be more worthwhile than pleasing someone, satisfying them and not yourself. Someday he feels sad, he feels happy like how human emotion works. A deep part of his heart aches a little when he sees other people happy, with their partner, laughing happily like nothing to worry about, meanwhile, he living a life with no interesting plot. He always tells himself that he doesn't need it, he has to remember what his past looks like if he ever does, it's hurt but it's even more hurt when you crave something you can't have, isn't it? One fine evening, he checked his fridge and it was empty, the boy decided to go buy some groceries and come back. On the way back home, he happened to pass by the Han River fridge and thought it'd be nice to sit and relax there for a bit. He looked around and saw someone sitting alone on a bench, he went to take a sit next to him. "Hey, can I sit here?" Ni-ki asked with, a silent response. However, when he took a closer look he saw this boy was crying when his cap covered his face. Without further more, he began to rub your back and comfort you silently without speaking a word. After some words with him, he wanted to adopt you right away. "why don't we try this out together, our story is quite the opposite but our hearts are mutual, I don't know and I don't care who you are, feeling is feeling!" He announced, hoping you would agree to him, it might sound weird but you also wanted to" you reply with your stained tears "Let's fight together!"

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️ Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

#enhypen #enha fluff #enha imagines #enha x male reader #enha x you #enha x reader #lee heeseung #park jongseong #sim jaeyun #park sunghoon #kim sunoo #yang jungwon #nishimura riki #enhypen scenarios #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen jungwon #enhypen niki #enhypen thoughts

[berryhobii]

🥳🥳🥳🥳I’M BACK YALL!!!!!

Oh my goodness, y’all won’t believe what happened. My Tumblr got suspended for 90 days so I couldn’t post. Like anything. I even lost access to it for a little while to where I couldn’t even log in. I was scared my page would be completely deleted and I’d lose all of my work but thankfully it was only a suspension. After talking to Tumblr, turns out I was being reported a lot for my posts during BHM😡😡I had previously had a run in with a few unhappy people who didn’t like what I was posting. Many of their comments were racially motivated which I ignored and deleted💅🏽but I guess they were mass reporting or something and like most social media platforms, Tumblr wasn’t really identifying the real problem so I had to suffer a suspension. Anyway, it’s in the past and I’m back in action! I’m so sorry to anyone who sent in asks and I promise I didn’t forget anyone. I actually finished about half of them but I just couldn’t post them😝. I’ll also be uploading THREE fics; Class In Session, a new fic inspired by @joonberriess, and Chapter 1 of Karma. In between posting my other WIPS, I’ll be answering all of my missed requests in the order I received them in. Please look forward to everything! Much love and I’m happy to be back🤎🤎🤎🤎

[serasfanfiction]

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

CW: Brief discussion of possible self harm. No actual self harm took place.

oOo

"So, the thirsty birds are holding a party, huh?"

Lucifer wasn't certain which part of that statement to untangle first, but he was fairly certain it wouldn't be too flattering for the Goetia. He picked up his woefully non-alcoholic drink, the direction of the conversation suddenly making him wish he didn't have a prior obligation later that day.

Vaggie gave Angel an unimpressed look, arms crossed. She had apparently caught on to the implications of Angel's statement as well. "There's no way you've been to one of their parties."

The spider demon made an affronted noise. "All the big boys and girls love a nasty sinner with a skill or two." Running a hand up one of his long, long legs, he purred, "And I have a skill or two."

It likely spoke to the level of exposure to the porn star she'd had that Charlie completely glossed over the not so hidden innuendo in that claim and instead focused on, "But the Goetia hate sinners. They complain about them every chance they get."

She turned to her father for confirmation, her brows furrowed. He nodded back in agreement. They did indeed complain about the violent and uncivilized manners of sinners whenever they thought Lucifer was listening, for all that they had long since given up on him doing anything about them.

Husk nodded in agreement. He'd likely seen all sorts of demons come through his casino in its heyday. Lucifer peered at the spider demon over the rim of his cup.

He wasn't about to contradict the Angel, though. Using sex to "tame a wild beast" was totally a thing that wasn't exclusive to the human imagination (and he hated that he knew that).

"Oh, sweetie, havent you heard?" Angel leaned forward, his grin downright fifty and his eyes knowing. "All cats are grey in the dark."

Vaggie's frown deepened. "That's not how that phrase is supposed to be used."

Charlie looked back and forth between them, missing something. "What is it supposed to mean?" Vaggie leaned over and whispered something in her ear, which caused Charlie to make a strangled noise. "That is a terrible thing to say about women!" She turned on Angel. "Who said such a terrible thing?"

Angel appeared to be pleased as punch. Without pause, he answered, "Benjamin Franklin."

Vaggie raised an eyebrow, surprised.

Angel took no offense to her response. "You thought I was just a pretty face, didn't you?" He ran the tip of his finger around the rim of his cup like he wished it was something else. "I read, sometimes, and everyone knows about this guy." He leaned his chin on the heel of his palm, shooting Lucifer a leer. "And how could I resist reading about this guy joining some Order into kinky devil worshipping orgies?"

Lucifer took a sip of his drink, a grimace visible in every inch of his body. Not many human groups made an impression on him, but The Order of the Knights of St Francis had. Worse, they hadn't actually been trying, from what he could tell, which made the whole thing worse.

To his understanding, the Order were a bunch of rich dudes who liked some role play and fancied themselves a place they could go a little wild, whether it be at cards or sex. Mockery of religion aside, none of them had ever performed a ritual with the expectation it would work (which was a horrible waste of a sacrifice, in Lucifer's opinion). That was, until one of the members had gotten thier hands on a real grimoire and decided to fuck around and find out by attempting to summon the Devil.

Oftentimes, when humans played these little games, nothing happened. They often got the name wrong and the whole thing turned out to be a dud. Sometimes they got it right, but who they thought they were summoning turned out to be very different from who they ended up getting and that turned into its own can of worms.

And then there were the ones that got it right. Had all the right materials and said all the right words and BAM! Instant Lucifer, King of Hell, at their disposal.

It was tedious and annoying, but it was his only chance at catching a glimpse at Earth throughout the years. And not everyone wanted some depraved, unholy wish, so there was that.

The thing about the attending members of the Order of the Knights of St. Francis was they hadn't expected it to work. They were drunk and having fun. They had thought it was just as real as everything else they'd done up until then. So, when they'd found they'd summoned the actual Devil himself, no one had a clue what to do with him.

What followed was three days of a sliding scale between furious bickering and outright panic amongst the group. The spell said one of them had to ask for something and Lucifer had to grant it (if it were possible). Their heart's desire in exchange for their soul. Only, none of them wanted anything enough to sell their soul for. This might have gone on indefinitely, had not one of them finally stepped up and shouted, "I'd sell my soul any day to make my nagging wife disappear!"

Beyond done with the pompous idjits, Lucifer had accepted the deal. Since the man had failed to specify how exactly he wanted the poor woman to "disappear," Lucifer had simply sent her away to another continent with a portion of her husband's money and the hope she found a better life for herself.

The only good thing about the experience had been the food and wine. The Order had at least not skimped on any of their luxuries, he would give them that.

Placing his cup down on the bar, Lucifer pointed at the spider demon. "For the record, they didn't worship me."

Angel was delighted, as if he'd just been told he was getting everything he wanted for his birthday. "That's the part that wasn't true?!"

"Ooooookay," Charlie interrupted, trying to redirect the conversation back to its original topic. "I can't believe Octavia is turning eighteen. It seems like just yesterday Stolas and Stella were announcing her birth."

If Charlie thought time was going fast after 200 plus years, wait until she hit the thousands.

Nudging his cup over to Husk, who had (mostly) been giving him the silent treatment since Alastor changed his contract, Lucifer pushed away from the bar. "Well, I'm going to go start getting ready." He made an unenthused double thumps up. "Never can start too soon."

Angel raised his glass. "I'd drink to that."

Charlie placed a hand on his father's shoulder. "Are you sure you'll be alright?" The offer to go with him was plain in her question, even if she didn't explicitly say it.

Lucifer covered her hand with his own, his expression softening into a real smile. "I'll be okay, Char-Char." He turned his face towards the ceiling, specifically the right most tower. "At the very least, this should be interesting."

Vaggie crossed her arms. "I still don't think Alastor going is a good idea." She had made no secret of this when he'd announced the ceremony and who his plus one would be.

Charlie's expression was a complicated mixture of thoughtfulness, concern, and guilt. Likely, she was worried about Alastor's motives and guilty she felt worried. It was times like these, where Lucifer could see her fighting with her instincts like this that he really wanted to strangle the sinner for how twisted up he'd already made Charlie with his manipulations. "I am surprised he wanted to go," she settled with. "It doesn't seem the kind of event he would want to go to."

Understatement. Nonetheless, at this stage, only the Radio Demon knew his true plans.

Charlie turned her full attention on her father and Lucifer was overtaken by a sense of foreboding. Sure enough, the next thing she asked of him - everything about her full of concern - was, "Dad, please look after him. None of them are as strong as Adam, but they are stronger than him."

This was what he'd been afraid of when he'd told her Alastor was coming. That Charlie would think for a moment that everyone in the room would be a threat to the sinner rather than the other way around. Lucifer sighed, ultimately unable to refuse his baby girl anything within his power. Sincerely, albeit grudgingly, he promised, "I'll make sure he gets home alive and in one piece."

Not that he had any plans of telling the redhead about such a promise. He'd milk the protection for all it was worth with gleeful sadism.

Charlie's brows smoothed out, her worries abated. It was touching that she still had that level of faith in him.

Holding tight to that warm feeling (he had the suspicion he was going to need it), he conjured a swirl of red smoke, which snaked around him as he transported himself up to the top most floor. Taking the stairs might have given his approach away and he was willing to admit he was in a bit of a mood. The moment he was fully corporeal, Lucifer threw open the door to Alastor's room without so much as a knock, shouting, "You better be decent, because I'm coming in!"

Alastor's bayou was dark, its ecosystem in its own time zone and independent of Hell's. It was only the fact that Lucifer didn't want to seem too interested in anything the sinner had created that stopped him from asking how closely it followed Earth's daily rotation. The sinner himself was seated within full view of the door, the rim of a small, white cup pressed to his lips. His spine and ears had gone ramrod straight at the intrusion. An equally white saucer and a pretty white and blue tea pot, that Lucifer pegged was likely picked out for the sinner by his friend Rosie, lay spread out on his little table for one. The scent of the drink was impossible to distinguish from the general scent of the bayou. 

Alastor relaxed upon recognizing him, swallowing his mouthful. Once his mouth was free, he said in a dismissive tone, "Ah, it's just you."

Lucifer strolled in like he owned the place (which he did, actually, and wasn't that something to come back to). A wave of his hand sent the door swinging shut behind him. Ignoring the insult, he said, "Grab anything you need. We're heading out."

Alastor's eyes narrowed at him. "There's still quite a bit of time before the ceremony begins." Pointedly, he took another sip of his drink, loudly slurping as he did. "And I'm busy at the moment."

The blonde remained unfazed. "Thanks to your little stunt yesterday, I have to put some thought into my outfit for once." He gestured to where the wound was currently hidden by the high neckline of his roll down. A pair of red eyes followed the movement, far too pleased despite the clear rebuke in Lucifer's words. "Your reputation might get boosted by our deal being ousted, but I'd rather not advertise it."

Alastor made a considering noise as he took another sip, although if he was pondering the effects to his reputation or the taste of his tea, it was impossible to say. He glanced at Lucifer, pointedly staring at his top. "Why not conjure something up like you did that sweater?"

"It's easier when the thing already exists," Lucifer explained, not that he needed to defend himself to this sinner. To demonstrate, he conjured a simple, base yellow rubber duck. "From there I can modify it-" he gave it a little white top hat, reminiscent of his own, "-Copy it-" a second duck appeared, exactly like the first one, "-Or merge them together." For his last magic trick, he slammed the two ducks together. When he opened them, a duck twice as big as either of the originals lay in his palms.

Alastor took on an unimpressed look of his own, raising an eyebrow at him. "So modify that silly outfit you usually wear."

Lucifer tries to imaging changing his usual outfit and finds the thought distasteful. He worked long and hard on that thing and he's quite pleased with it. "Hm, no. Doesn't fit the style."

The red headed sinner's other eyebrow joined it's twin. "'Style'?" His expression turned shrewd. "You mean that abhorrent circus theme is on purpose?"

Sticking his tongue out at Alastor may have been childish, but he didn't care. For extra effect, he lobbed his latest rubber ducky at the asshole's head.

A shadow darted out from behind the sinner, catching the object mere inches from Alastor's face. He narrowed his eyes at it, turning it this way and that. An unholy grin spread across his face was the all warning Lucifer had before the redhead's head seemed to come unhinged at the jaw, mouth opening unnaturally wide.

Wide enough, in fact, to drop the duck into it. Lucifer's hands flew to his mouth in horror at the poor thing's fate.

With a resounding snap Alastor's jaw came back together, the unmistakable sound of teeth going through rubber slicing through the room. Looking Lucifer dead in the eye, malicious glee plain for all to see in his gaze, Alastor spit the offensive thing out.

No less than fifteen individual pieces of rubber landed on the ground, some rolling off and disappearing into the bayou. It's little head, now split in two and missing it's hat, came to a stop near Lucifer's feet.

Lucifer was in disbelief. He couldn't believe this mangy sinner had the audacity to destroy one of his ducks. Heartfelt, he whispered, "You're a monster."

Alastor cackled. "Perhaps this outing might be fun after all." Leaning over, he poured out the rest of his drink. "The tea was off, anyway."

(Hidden behind his hands, the corner of Lucifer's mouth twitched, uncertain if it wanted to become a smile or a frown. Was it really bad tea or had it already begun?)

Lucifer glared at him as he approached, stepping around the pieces of rubber duckie death like one steps around dog excrement. When he was within arm's reach, Alastor held out his arm in a gentlemanly manner that belied every previous interaction they'd ever had. "Shall we, your Majesty?"

Lucifer eyed the limb like he expected it to turn into a snake and bite him, which seemed to amuse the sinner even more. Grudgingly, he reached out and took it, mostly because physical contact made it easier to transport a second person.

Alastor placed a hand over his, holding it in place. "And where are we headed on this fine morning?"

That was it, Lucifer definitely knew he was hamming it up just to annoy him. Returning Alastor's false honey sweet attitude with one of his own, red smoke began to swirl up around them. Before it took them completely, he quipped, "Down to the Lust Ring."

Alastor's expression as they rematerialized was priceless. One would think the Devil had just dragged this woeful sinner down to the true depths of Hell with the way Alastor was not thrilled with turn of events. It likely didn't help that they arrived to the soundtrack of overly loud wet smacking noises and moans.

Oh no, Lucifer thought, more for Alastor's sake than his own. He really hoped he hadn't picked a bad time. That would be the cherry on top of the sinner's expectations. He spun around towards the noise, relieved when he discovered they'd only interrupted a make out fest.

Lucifer tilted his head to the side, trying to get a better understanding of what he was seeing. His brother was seated at his desk, very into what he was doing, which was apparently making out with an imp. An imp wearing a jester's hat. An imp with very, very stretchy arms? Were those arms? Did imps have stretchy arms? He was fairly certain imps didn't have stretchy arms the last time he checked.

He might have gone on accidentally being a voyeur in favor of trying to work out this odd puzzle, had Alastor not decided he'd reached his limit on everything going on in front of them and cleared his throat.

Asmodeus and the imp paused, both opening an eye to peer at them. The imp glared at them. "Do you mind? We're busy." He frowned, looking at the door and then back at them. "Wait, how did you get in here? We definitely locked the door."

Asmodeus' reaction was much more hospitable. His face broke out into a wide smile, the little faces in his mane both showing joy. "Lucy!" Although his jumping up from his chair was abrupt, the imp anticipated it, altering his grip so he didn't take a tumble to the floor. His arms withdrew and moved around until he was situated comfortably on Asmodeus' shoulder.

Lucifer wondered how long that affair had been going on. Judging from the rather large painting that looked new, but not that new, it must have been for at least the last several months. He didn't have too long to contemplate it, as arms almost as long as he was tall scooped him up with all the ease of picking up a child.

Lucifer might have felt self conscious of this, if Ozzie-hugs weren't 100% worth the indignity. The sin's affections were like a ray of sunshine after a thunderstorm, and he couldn't help but soak it up like a wilted flower. "Hey, Ozzie," Lucifer said around a nuzzle to the side of his face. His new vantage point gave him a much closer view of Asmodeus' partner, who was patiently waiting out the exchange. "Who is this?"

The imp grinned at him, hands curling up under his chin and his feet kicking up behind him. "Name's Fizzarolli, but you can call me Fizz." The rock of his head caused the little bells on the end of his hat to jingle. "And you're the big boss himself."

Lucifer thought he had heard the name somewhere, but couldn't place it. It wasn't unusual for people to know of him, when he didn't know them, so he didn't think anything of it. Asmodeus, however, filled in some of the blanks by saying, "Fizz used to work for Mammon." The smile fell away for a scowl of pure distain. "That awful robot version of him is still at his Loo Loo Land monstrosity."

A light bulb went off. Even several years deep into his self imposed isolation, news of the fire that had broken out due to a fight between something called 'Robo Fizzarolli' and a park visitor had reached him. For weeks, all the servants could speak of was the Loo Loo Land scandal. Lucifer had gotten the impression it was mostly because of the destruction of the robot. The fuss didn't die down until it had been repaired, albeit only barely enough to function.

He studied the imp hanging off of Asmodeus' shoulder. His arms and legs not following the physical laws of nature aside, Fizzarolli was definitely not a robot. Which meant that Mammon had a robot created in his likeness.

Creepy. Par for the course with Mammon, but still creepy.

Asmodeus shifted Lucifer until he was holding his brother with a single arm. The little king, used to the treatment, shifted himself until he was sitting on the sin's arm rather than reclining on it. "We've been trying to get Mammon to get rid of it," Asmodeus went on, his hand now free to curl into a claw, joints cracking a sign of his frustration, "But you know how he can be with legalities."

Which was a roundabout way of saying that Mammon and legal practices barely on speaking terms. Usually, if it was something involving the other sins and anything to do with their rings, the personification of Greed would yield (very, very grudgingly). When it came to anything within his own ring, it was damn near impossible to gain any sort of traction for an argument. At that point, the only beings in existence he'd yield to were Lucifer and God.

Since one of those options was indefinitely AWOL, while the other had been in isolation, it was understandable that Mammon had grown too big for his breeches.

Perhaps it was because Asmodeus' good mood was so infectious. Perhaps it was because Asmodeus was over the moon for his partner. What ever it was, Lucifer found himself offering, "If you want it gone, I could speak to Mammon?"

Fizz looked both happy and a bit flummoxed that Hell's king had just volunteered to get involved with his case, but not like he was about to complain. Asmodeus' eyes turned to crescent moons, his smile was so big. "Lucy! You don't have to do that!"

Lucifer wasn't too bothered by the headache that was dealing with the Sin of Greed on his own turf. He waved off with a roll of the eyes and a huff of only slightly overexaggerated annoyance.

The surprise of their arrival and the pleasantries of their reunion over with, Asmodeus finally turned his attention to the fourth party in the room. "I see you brought company." The fallen angel turned sin circled Alastor, easily pegging him as a sinner. "And who is this pretty cat?"

The redhead's expression was bland, but Lucifer had known him long enough to pick out the calculating gleam in his eye. As Asmodeus was studying Alastor, Alastor was studying Asmodeus. "Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you." He didn't offer his hand, not caring that he might be possibly offending someone easily twice his size. His eyes flicked to Fizz. "I see all the gossip about you two was true."

Lucifer tensed, something about the tone suggesting that Alastor was testing the waters already, although he had no idea how.

Asmodeus merely laughed. "Oh! This cat has claws." He turned that mirth on Lucifer. "You always did like the feisty ones."

Lucifer hissed, even as he blushed. "Oh, no!" He waved his hands for emphasis. "No! Absolutely not! We are not a couple!" He shuddered at the mere thought. They were more likely to kill each other than ever like each other.

One of the Sin of Lust's eyes got wider than the other, his version of raising an eyebrow. Lucifer could already tell he had picked up on there being more to the story. "Oh?"

"I... He's..." Lucifer swallowed, suddenly floundering. His pride was still intact enough he adamantly didn't want to explain that he had had a nervous breakdown and in his moment of weakness, he'd agreed to bring this particular sinner along for support, which was a hilarious concept if one thought about it long enough.

As if to prove his point, Alastor suggested in a faux helpful tone, "An emotional support sinner?"

Lucifer flipped him off with both hands, although he suspected any effect it might have had on the sinner was lost due to the fact that the blonde was still seated in his little brother's arm like a small child. Something he had no doubt the red head was going to bring up at some point in the future, if the sly grin on his face was anything to go by.

Asmodeus and Fizzarolli shared a look. Lucifer refused to think about what totally erroneous conclusions they were jumping to. Thankfully, neither decided to share those conclusions with the class.

"Froggy," Asmodeus asked, voice full of warmth and mirth. "Could you show Lucy's stray cat to the refreshments while he and I chat?"

Alastor's ears flattened as his lips pulled away from his teeth into a sneer at the notion he belonged to anyone, let alone Lucifer.

Fizzarolli pecked his lover's check with a kiss, something Asmodeus responded to with a pleased purr. "Leave it to me." As he withdrew, Lucifer heard the faintest of a mechanical whirl suggesting his arms weren't flesh and blood. Upon touching the ground, the imp tried to wrap an arm around Alastor's shoulder, only for the sinner to side step him. Fizz's lips twisted down into a frown. "What's the matter? Don't like imps?"

Alastor stared down his nose at him. Fizzarolli, like most imps, was closer to a living human's height making it easier to do so. "Make no mistake, I dislike imps as much as I dislike everyone." He lifted his staff like a barrier between them. "Touch me, though, and we'll both find out how much that changes."

Instead of being daunted by the threat, Fizzarolli just placed a hand on his hip and snorted. "You're a snippy one." He walked past the red head, just barely brushing up against the tailored coat in a way that had to be deliberate. "Come on, there's some drinks and candy over here."

Alastor followed after him, his expression suggesting he was more likely to attempt to eat the imp then he was to accept anything offered to him. Lucifer suddenly wondered if it was a good idea to leave them alone with each other. He really didn't want to explain to Charlie that Alastor had gotten himself killed because he eaten the Sin of Lust's lover.

Asmodeus watched them go with a chuckle. "Where did you find that alley cat?"

Lucifer guffawed at the description, unable to help himself. He covered his mouth with his hand as the noise caused Alastor's ears to swerve around to follow the noise. He waited until Fizzarolli had his attention back before saying, "Oh, heh, yeah no. Alastor may be a tease and all touchy feely-" Lucifer wagged his fingers and pulled a face at how territorial the sinner could be, "-But I don't think he's got a promiscuous bone in his body." He paused to think about it, looking at the redhead in question. "I really don't think he's one of yours."

No, Alastor's ego and pride made him all Lucifer's. Joy.

Fizzarolli held out a bowl of multicolored candies, all shaped like mouths and penises. Alastor's eyes went red on black, a shadow darting out, grabbing hold of the bowl, and then tossing it's contents into the nearby fire. Fizzarolli sputtered over the waste.

It was hard to tell where Asmodeus was focused sometimes, him lacking any pupils. "Asexual?"

Lucifer thought about what Rosie had said, about Alastor 'drawing aces.' "Maybe. His friend certainly seems to think so," he said thoughtfully. He turned back to Asmodeus. "Is that what they're calling it these days?"

Asmodeus laughed at him. "They've been calling it that for almost a hundred and thirty years, Lucy!" He moved them closer to the heart shaped wall to floor window behind his desk to give them more privacy. "But I have a feeling you're not here to gossip about a sinner's lack of a love life."

"Ew, no." The older fallen angel shuddered. "And who says I need anything?" Lucifer put on his best bullshitting smile. "Maybe I just wanted to hang out with my favorite little brother."

Asmodeus laughed at him like he thought that was cute, not buying it for a moment. "Flattery will get you everything, except out of answering my question." He jostled his brother. "Out with it."

Lucifer signed. "Fine, fine." He crossed his arms. "I've come to ask the great and powerful Asmodeus for some fashion advice." He picked at his sweater, a slight whine in his voice as he added, "My normal top won't cut it tonight."

There was a twinkle in Asmodeus' eyes. "Oh? You love that outfit! What's wrong with it?"

Lucifer felt wary, like he was walking into a trap. "I need something with a higher collar."

Asmodeus' expression was the kind only a little sibling scenting possibly embarrassing blackmail material they could use against their other older sibling could make. "Lucy! And here I thought you weren't the type to let a hickey linger."

Lucifer stared, uncomprehending. Wait what? Suddenly, he realized how all of this sounded. Horrified, he shoved at Asmodeus' face, even as the sin cackled. "Stop that! It's not like that!" He attempted to struggle out of his little brother's grasp, but Asmodeus was near enough his equal and several times his size to make that difficult. "Wait, don't--!"

He never stood a chance. Asmodeus had managed to get a single finger hooked under Lucifer's collar, pulling the fabric down.

Both of them froze, Lucifer's breathe catching in his lungs. The wound had completely closed up by the time morning had come around again, allowing Lucifer to remove the butterfly stitches and bandage. The skin was still tender and would remain so for another day or two, when it would finally move into the scarring stages. With Asmodeus' knowledge of how quickly injuries healed on seraphim, it was impossible he wouldn't have guessed it had happened recently.

Lucifer transformed into a snake, slithering out and dropping down from his brother's hold. He reappeared in normal form a meter from the window, arms wrapped around his arms. Asmodeus reached for him, stopping without touching him. Lucifer felt horrible for how grateful he was that he hadn't.

He could hear the concern plain as day in Asmodeus' tone, underneath it a promise of violence if needed, as he inquired, "What happened?"

Lucifer wanted to lie and say that it had happened during one of the attacks on the hotel. To broadly claim someone had gotten too close without saying when. It would have even been true, if one ignored which injury belonged to which incident. His hand couldn't give him away either, as the scar had long since disappeared.

The issue was that Lucifer could count the amount of times he been able to lie to Asmodeus on one hand. King of Lies or not, his brother had always been able to see right through him, the truth practically illuminated over his head in bright flashing lights. The lie would most certainly be caught out almost immediately. The thought of telling the truth, however, threatened to close up his windpipe. His pride refused to allow it.

Unable to tell a lie and just as unable to tell the truth, Lucifer stared back at him wordlessly.

Asmodeus studied him: his posture and body language all telling it's own story. "Lucy, I have to ask." Carefully, gently, almost regretful that he had to ask: "Did you do this to yourself?"

At first the contents of the question didn't register. All Lucifer picked up on was that fact that Asmodeus had spoken to him in Enochian. There were so few people in Hell that spoke their mother tongue it was rare to hear someone else speak it. There was likely only eight beings in Hell that even could, those being the sins, himself, and Vaggie. Lilith and Charlie understood it when he spoke to them in it, but only Charlie could speak it back to him. He didn't think he'd heard her use it since childhood, though. It was even possible that Vaggie had no idea her partner knew the language, if she had been trying so very hard not to let slip she was an angel.

And then the words themselves hit like a sucker punch. Anger, a defensive response, rose bitter and sour in his chest. "No," he vehemently denied. "No," he said again, calmer. "I know my... mood," the word tasted wrong on his lips, too light for the darkness of his depression, "Has been pretty low for a while now, but no." HIs hands tightened around his arms. "I don't want to hurt myself. I never did." This was true. He'd wanted to hide away. He'd wanted to disappear. But he'd never wanted to hurt himself.

Their Father had done that plenty enough for him.

Asmodeus reached for him again, hovering as he gauged if Lucifer would let him. "Okay. Okay, I believe you." When he was given a nod, the sin reached out and placed a hand on his older brother's shoulder, the hand nearly engulfing it. A little of that promise for violence trickled back into his voice as he asked, "Is the fucker who did it dead, at least?"

Lucifer found himself once again at a loss. To say yes would be a lie. To say no would invite an inquiry into who had done it and he wasn't entirely certain he would be able to keep everything from all spilling out. He really, really did not want to explain anything about this situation. "I..." He was beginning to wish he had never come here. He hadn't been ready for any of this. He felt too exposed, his throat threatening to close up as his heart kicked up a notch.

Without meaning to, he looked past Asmodeus, searching out the person who had made himself both the bane of his existence and a source of comfort. Being part deer, Alastor's hearing must have been extraordinary. He would have easily heard the hitch in Lucifer's breathing and the racing of his heart from so meager a distance. This was all Lucifer could think of when Alastor turned his head to face him.

He didn't know what his face was doing. Didn't know what Alastor could read off of it. Whatever it was elicited a sigh and a click of the tongue from the sinner. Without a by-your-leave to Fizzarolli, Alastor abandoned his company to cross the room over to where Lucifer and Asmodeus were standing.

Alastor ignored Asmodeus in favor of concentrating on the fallen angel himself. "Come now, sire, what's with that expression?" He held out a hand, offering his poisonous support, if Lucifer chose to take it.

Lucifer knew he shouldn't. Knew he was already beginning to associate Alastor with comfort rather than trouble. Knew he couldn't trust him. He still stepped out of Asmodeus' grasp and reached for him anyway.

He didn't miss the victory as it flashed across Alastor's expression when Lucifer took his hand.

Asmodeus didn't miss it either.

A flash of blue and pink flame. An alarmed cry of, "Oz?!" Asmodeus' voice echoed with his wrath as he asked in plain English, "It was this guy?"

Both Lucifer and Alastor turned, the latter's ears flattening to the side of his head. Too late, Alastor realized the danger he had walked right into. Most people would have cowered before the anger of a sin, and rightfully so. They were huge. They were powerful. They could do a lot of damage with very little effort.

But Alastor hadn't been prey since the day he took a kitchen knife to his father's throat.

The room around them grew darker as shadows coalesced around them, dancing just out of the flames' reach. Alastor's horns branched out as they grew. His form would be the next to follow.

Two paths spread out before Lucifer. Down one path, he did nothing. Allowed the two to fight and for Asmodeus to remove a thorn in his side that he hadn't been able to remove himself. Charlie would be upset, but Alastor would no longer be a danger to her. Down the other, he interfered. Swallowed his pride and explained the situation that he had landed himself in of his own free will. Deescalated the tension before someone got killed.

Indecision locked up his muscles, almost making the decision for him.

Like the beam of a lighthouse, ready to lead weary sailors back to the shore, Charlie's voice cut through the fog reminding him of his promise.

Dad, please look after him.

There really had only been one path, hadn't there?

His wings came into being, large enough to carry two people if he were to take to flight. He caught hold of Alastor's forearm, yanking the sinner off balance as he twisted them around. The sinner hissed at him, but Lucifer didn't spare the time to explain. The three wings, all from the same side, came up and around until Alastor was completely shielded beneath them, cutting both sin and sinner off from each other. His other hand came up to grip Alastor's other forearm, holding him in place behind the barrier.

For the second time in his life, Lucifer chose to stand between a sinner and his own kind.

Asmodeus might as well have been made from stone. Behind him, Fizzarolli looked like he wanted to interfere, but didn't dare get in the middle of a fight between two giants.

Lucifer was apologetic, but resolute. He swallowed his pride, the taste of it burning his throat as it went down. In a language everyone in the room could understand, he explained, "I made a deal. He gave me his terms and I agreed to them." He almost faltered when his little brother remained cold and distant, but carried on. "The knife was an experiment." His hands tightened to signal he meant business. "We will be discussing it later."

Switching to Enochian, smile sweet and tone as dark as the day would be when Alastor inevitably broke his daughter's heart, Lucifer promised, "If he ever proves to be too much of a threat, I will end him."

The two fallen angels assessed each other. If it came down to it, Lucifer would leave with Alastor. The sinner would be safe in Pentagram City. The Pride Ring was Lucifer's territory and Lucifer's alone. None of the other sins would dare impede upon it if he ordered them to stay out.

Perhaps Asmodeus could see his resolve. The choice he had made. With a sigh, the sin allowed his mane to resume it's normal temperature, bringing his anger under control. He didn't look happy about it, but he was letting this go. For now, at least. "Lucy, this was not what I meant when I said you should give sinners a second chance."

It wasn't a joke. Not really. Lucifer took it as the olive branch it was. That crisis adverted, he turned his attentions to his other issue. Only to pause when he got a good look at Alastor.

Alastor's gaze was like molten lava, his hunger a living thing. He looked like he wanted to tear open Lucifer's rib cage and crawl inside it. Like he wanted to devour Lucifer bit by bit, taking his time as he savored every bite. He knew what Lucifer had done, what it had cost him and he was reveling in it.

Some part of Lucifer craved proof he was wanted. That people wanted him around and enjoyed his company.

This wasn't that. This wasn't anything healthy or good, but some part of him wanted this as well, whatever the hell this was.

He was glad he hadn't lowered his wings, yet.

Alastor tucked it all away as easily as he tucked away a large meal. When he stepped back, Lucifer let him go, lowering his wings and tucking them away into his back. The redhead considered him. "Would like to take a break from this conversation, your Majesty?" He gestured to the set up back across the room where Fizzarolli still stood. "There's some rather fine wine, if you're interested."

Lucifer shook his head. "No, it's fine." The adrenaline was beginning to wear off and he really just wanted to pretend this whole conversation never happened. "Go."

Hearing the dismissal, Alastor 'hmmed' to himself. Lucifer was relieved when he turned on his heel and headed back to the receiving area.

Lucifer watched him go, trying not to think about the look Asmodeus was giving him. More to fill the awkward silence, he said, "I'd still like you're help with the outfit."

Asmodeus clearly wanted to say something more, but blessedly didn't. Tapping his finger to his chin, his hand under his elbow, he gave Lucifer his own once over. Seemingly reaching an idea, he said, "I think I know just the thing."

tbc

#radioapple #alastor #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel #deer lucifer fic #i wanted the ceremony to be in this chapter #but it just kept fighting me #it will be the focus of the next chapter #the next chapter might be late #i only get one day off in the next eleven days

[munsonsmixtapes]

Wanna Bet?

tattoo artist!Eddie x fem!tattoo artist!reader

word count: 4.1k

cw: brief mention of alcohol

Part Three

You found yourself at the bar where Eddie had asked you to meet him and wondered if you could run before he could see you. You had much better things to do on a Saturday night than hang out with him, like giving Binx a bath or maybe pulling your eyelashes out one by one.

But there you were, sitting on one of the stools, still waiting for him even though he was thirty minutes late and he hadn’t sent a single text or given you a phone call to tell you why. You didn’t know what you were expecting. He made it very clear that he only cared about himself so of course he’d be on his own time.

You looked around the bar, wondering if there was someone you could take home so your time wouldn’t have been wasted and your eyes immediately locked on a man by the jukebox. He was just your type and clearly seemed to be into you by the way he gave you a wink and quickly made his way towards you, weaving through all of the drunk bodies to where you were sitting.

He took the unoccupied seat that you were saving for Eddie and you took the time to examine his features. He had pretty tan skin, dark blond hair that was shaved into a buzz cut and he had a big beard. He looked the exact opposite of the man you were supposed to be meeting and you liked that. It made it that much easier to not think about him or how he stood you up.

The man put his hand out to shake, accompanied by a bright smile on his face and you couldn’t help but mimic his actions, hoping, praying that he wasn’t a creep or going to ghost you like the others. You were hoping that he was just a normal, nice guy. Maybe for once, that wouldn’t be too much to ask.

“I’m James,” he introduced himself as he gave your hand a light shake before pulling his own away.

“Y/n,” you replied, letting your hand fall back into your lap while your other one wrapped tightly around the glass that contained your drink. You made it your mission to not let it out of your sight.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asked and you quickly downed what little was left of the one you were drinking and flashed him another smile.

“Sure.” It was rare that a man wanted to buy you a drink without expecting something in return. You didn’t know why it seemed so difficult for them to just do something because it was nice. It was as if they thought that made them more manly instead of actually treating other people like humans.

“So, what are you drinking?” He leaned closer and you got a whiff of his cologne that he was definitely wearing too much off. You suppressed a cough, trying to keep the smile on your face, not wanting to lose out on your drink before you even got it.

“A pina colada.” He nodded and turned to get the bartender’s attention so he could order. Once he put the order in, he turned back to you, leaning even closer to you than before. You decided to just hold your breath until it was your turn to speak, the one whiff of his cologne being enough to last you a lifetime.

“So what do you do for a living?” You hated that answer when people asked because they always had something to say. Whether it was telling you that it wasn’t a real profession or trying to mansplain the topic as if they had done all of the apprenticeships and schooling themselves. You could never win either way.

“I’m a tattoo artist.” You held your breath for his response, hoping that he would surprise you by actually being impressed. You watched his face, looking for any sign of disgust or a laugh, but his face was blank, showing no emotion.

“Really?” He leaned back and you were sure that you weren’t going to like what he was going to say. “Do you know Eddie Munson?” And you were right. You couldn’t even escape the man when he stood you up. Of fucking course.

Your drink was set on the bar and you reached for it, taking a few sips, willing to suffer the brain freeze just to not have to answer the question. You couldn’t have one guy, could you? Maybe you were destined to be alone. You could get a few more cats and just be a cat lady. That sounded more and more inviting than constantly putting yourself out there.

You weighed your options carefully. If you told him the truth, that you actually did know Eddie, the conversation would just be about him and you really didn’t want that. But if you lied and told him that, no, you didn’t know him, he’d definitely lose interest in you and any chance you had of taking him home would be gone. And you’d also be stuck with paying for your drink and you really couldn’t have that, especially since you couldn’t even afford it with the very sad amount of money that was sitting in your bank account.

“Actually-” you started to say, but James’s attention was no longer on you, his head turning towards the front door of the bar. You followed his gaze and there was Eddie, giving one of the guys that was by the door a hug. Speak of the fucking devil. He was over an hour late and didn’t even seem sorry about it since he hadn’t even spared you a glance, too focused on his conversation to even remember why he was there in the first place.

Eventually, his eyes locked on yours and you just turned away, sipping on your cocktail, trying your best to pretend that he wasn’t even there. The night had barely even started and your bed was looking more and more inviting as you realized that you wouldn’t be taking anyone home. Eddie seemed to have been unintentionally ruining everything in your life and you were just tired of him. You had half a mind to just throw in the towel and let him win the best so you could get the tattoo and never have to see his stupid face again.

“He’s coming over, how’s my hair?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at the very little amount of hair that sat atop his head, wondering what he was getting at.

“Nonexistent,” you replied, and he just smiled. The night was just getting worse by the second.

“Perfect.” You wondered what Eddie had done to make pretty much every man that was interested in tattoos to be so interested in him. You weren’t discounting his talent because he was very talented, but so were many other men in the industry. Men who were nice and actually cared about their careers and didn’t seem to only use it to get people to sleep with him.

You let out an obnoxious laugh, trying to show him just what he had been missing by showing up late. That it could have been him you were laughing with if he had actually bothered to show up at the time you agreed to meet up. James just gave you a confused look and let out a laugh of his own, but only to cover up how uncomfortable he was.

You felt a hand rest on your lower back and you didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. It was obvious by the way James’s mouth fell open in shock. Nothing was coming out but a stutter as his brain tried to catch up to what he was trying to say and you found it very tempting to go home, leaving the two of them to gush over how great Eddie was. They would have definitely liked that.

“So you do know him,” James finally spoke and you tried to keep your smile on your face, still convinced you had a sliver of a shot with him even though it was more than likely that he wanted to leave with Eddie more.

“Talking about me, huh?” You heard Eddie chuckle from behind you. Of course you were, because all your conversations about your career were always about him. Maybe that was why you hated him so much. All of his trying to get under your skin aside, he really wasn’t that bad of a guy. You were just sick of hearing about him when you were supposed to be the topic.

What was so special about him, anyway? What was it about him that made men gush like a school girl with a crush? It was as if he was a celebrity and they all were his devoted fanbase, willing to do whatever they could to get the chance to meet him. Even the women you had heard talk about him didn’t seem to be as passionate about their love for him and it made you wonder what kind of chokehold he had on them.

“Who’s your friend?” Before you couldn’t even get the words out, James launched himself forwards, stumbling off his stool as he pushed his hand in Eddie’s direction, almost hitting you in the face with it.

“I’m James Alexander, big fan.” His eyes lit up as he introduced himself and Eddie took his hand and gave it a brief shake, not interested in the slightest in making conversation with him. He had seen the two of you talking and couldn’t believe that the guy was willing to toss you to the side in favor of him. Eddie thought that the guy should have considered himself lucky to have your attention.

“Nice to meet you,” Eddie nodded, wondering how he could politely tell him to beat it. He didn’t like that he was literally falling over himself to speak to him when you were already in the middle of a conversation with him. He hated that he had been talking to you in general, but now he was treating you like chopped liver because a better offer came along.

“Man, I love your work and have been trying to get an appointment with you for months. Do you by chance have any openings that you could fit me into?” No fucking way. He wasn’t going to treat you like shit then try to book an appointment with him like it was nothing. Eddie never gave out special treatment, especially not to dickheads like James. He never minded shutting people down and he was going to have fun with this one.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You blurted out and both men turned to you, their eyes wide in shock. All of the anger you had held in for years was finally coming out and you weren’t going to hold it in any longer. It was as if you were a can of soda that someone had shaken up for a long time and decided to open, the liquid spilling everywhere.

“Excuse me?” James turned back to you, the smile on his face now replaced with a look of offense.

“I said are you fucking kidding me? I thought we were having a good time and now you’re abandoning me for him?” You jerked your thumb towards Eddie who just nodded in agreement. He wanted to applaud you for standing up for yourself and knowing your worth. That you weren’t going to let a loser like James take advantage of you.

“If I’m being honest, I already knew who you were and that you had a connection to Eddie.” Hearing those words made Eddie feel sick to his stomach. He balled up his fists, resisting the urge to punch the guy in the face and so were you. Maybe you could have really taught him a lesson if you tag-teamed to beat his ass.

“Oh, so you were using me. Right, got it.” The night really couldn’t have gotten any worse, could it? You were glad that the lighting in the bar had been low so that neither Eddie nor James could see the tears welling up in your eyes. It was embarrassing that you were about to cry in public and over a man. You had officially hit rock bottom and you were sure that there was absolutely no way back to the top.

“You’re a fucking ass,” Eddie spoke up. “You really think that I’d let you get away with treating her like garbage? Especially in favor of me?” James was at a loss of words at the hits he was receiving from both you and Eddie. He was just trying to shoot his shot and you were acting as if had done something offensive.

You turned to Eddie and you were at just the right angle to see his jaw clench. So he really was angry. He wasn’t just putting on a show to make you think that he cared as a way to win the bet. You appreciated that he was standing up for you and not just standing by, watching like you thought he was going to.

“And in response to your tattoo request, no fucking way. I don’t do favors, especially not for ugly losers who hurt women. So, I suggest you get out of here before I have my friend, Ziggy throw you out.” Eddie nodded his head towards the door where a big, scary man was standing with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he could have sent James flying across the bar with one flickand you almost wanted him to make a fuss so you could see it happen. It was what he deserved, after all.

Without a word, James turned to head towards the exit, a look of terror flashing across his face. As soon as he was gone, Eddie occupied the now empty stool, turning to face you. You could see him eyeing your drink and pushed the glass towards him, supposing that you could give him a sip in return for defending you.

Eddie took a long pull from the straw then pushed the cup back over to you before turning to order a drink of his own. Not long after, a glass of whiskey was set in front of him and he took a sip while you continued to stare at him, wondering why he had defended you. Especially since he hadn’t gotten anything out of it. You figured he just hadn’t asked yet and wondered what he was going to request from you.

“Thank you,” you spoke up and he just continued to sip on his whiskey, watching the bartenders run around behind the bar, mixing drinks.

“You’re welcome,” he replied. “Couldn’t let that asshole get away with what he did without saying something. You had it pretty covered, though. I was pretty sure that you were going to beat his ass.”

“I almost did, but I didn’t want you to think I was crazy.” Eddie didn’t think you were crazy at all. He actually thought your feelings were very valid. He thought you had every right to be angry.

“I wouldn’t have thought you were crazy.” He shook his head. “In fact, I would have cheered you on.”

“Really?” You turned your head to the side like a curious puppy and Eddie thought it was adorable. As much as he liked seeing you angry, he liked seeing the soft side of you too.

“Really,” he nodded. “Does that happen a lot?”

“What?” You didn’t know why you were asking when you knew exactly what he was referring to.

“Men trying to talking about me in your conversations.”

“All the time,” you rolled your eyes. “You have no idea.” Eddie didn’t like knowing that.

“That’s really fucked up.”

“Tell me about it. It’s like the second I mention that I’m a tattoo artist, I see the gears turning in their head and just based on the looks on their faces, I can tell if they’re going to ask if I know you. I-I think that’s why I hate you so much. Because it’s like I can’t have a single conversation without you being the center of it. And the thing is, I looked up to you. Like, you were the whole reason why I wanted to be a tattoo artist and now it’s all tainted by a bunch of stupid men.”

If Eddie was being honest, his brain short-circuited after hearing that he was the whole reason why you became a tattoo artist. He would have never guessed that by the way you treated him, but he supposed he would have been the same if the roles had been reversed.

“Y/n…” For once, the man that could never shut his fucking mouth had been rendered speechless. “I honestly had no idea about any of that. And I’m sorry that you had to go through all of that. Men are dicks and I know it’s not necessarily my fault, but I feel like I should apologize.”

Now he just felt bad for fucking with you when you were clearly rightfully upset. He knew it wasn’t necessarily his fault but he couldn’t help but feel like he caused the entire mess. He wished there was a way to end your misery, but there really wasn’t. Unless he took your for himself so you wouldn’t have to go on another lousy date.

“I wasn’t asking for an apology. I just wanted you to know why I was so upset with you. I’m sorry for being such a bitch, okay?”

“No,” he shook his head, resting his hand on top of yours. “You’re not a bitch at all. I deserved every single jab.”

You liked this side of Eddie. The side that could be kind and apologetic for the harm he had caused. Having that conversation with him almost made him seem like a normal person, not the big-headed man you had known for a couple of weeks.

“Well, thank you. Can we-can we just start over?” You were honestly getting tired of holding your grudge against him and thought that the two of you could actually be friends with how much you seemed to have in common.

“Sounds good to me. I’m Eddie.” He put his hand out for you to shake.

“Y/n,” you replied, giving his hand a shake before sliding yours out of it, letting it fall back into your lap.

“Nice to meet you.” He gave you a nod and you mimicked his actions, deciding that it was actually nice to meet him this time.

“You too.”

Looking at Eddie, you didn’t feel the rage you normally did. It was as if telling him the truth caused that huge weight that was sitting on your shoulders to be lifted. You could finally breathe again.

Now that you had finally let go of your grudge against him, you could appreciate how attractive he really was. The way his hair fell so perfectly around his shoulders, the messy curls still somehow looking perfect. His pretty brown eyes that you felt like you could just fall into. His rough looking hands that you wanted to roam all over your body.

Your eyes raked down his body, wondering how he looked good in every single thing he wore. You were convinced that he could have worn a paper bag and looked hot.

Your eyes trailed down further and stopped at his waist, admiring how his jeans hugged him in just the right, wishing he wasn’t sitting so you could have gotten a glimpse of his ass. You found yourself looking at it anyway even though you couldn’t see the full thing, wishing you had looked at it with all the chances you had before.

Eddie glanced over at you and you quickly turned to face forward, suddenly very interested in your drink, watching it melt slowly before your eyes. Your cheeks heated as you realized that you had been caught and you rested your cheek against your hand as you leaned your elbow against the bar so he couldn’t see the pink tint.

“If you wanted to check out my ass, sugar, you could have just asked.” He let out a laugh then stood up from his stool. He then took his phone out of his pocket, gently dropping it to the floor. “Oh no, I dropped by phone. Guess I have to bend over to pick it up.” You rolled your eyes at his dramatics but found yourself turning to look at him as he slowly bent over to retrieve his phone from the floor. You watched him grab hold of it, but he was still hunched over, moving his ass this way and that, making you want to stare at it even more.

After a few more seconds, he then stood up and turned to face you. You didn’t know what was coming over you. One second you were looking at him and the next, you were grabbing him by the shirt, pressing your lips to his roughly. If he asked, you were just going to blame it on the alcohol.

Eddie gasped at the sudden movement, but quickly melted into you, his hands resting on your waist while yours moved to his hair. You took no time to lick into his mouth and he was more than happy to let you inside and do whatever you wanted to him. He was just along for the ride.

“This isn’t part of the bet,” you told him, pulling away just enough to speak, then you immediately attached your lips again.

“Of course it’s not,” he replied against your lips, pulling you closer to him. “This is just a product of too many drinks.” Neither of you had enough to drink to even be drunk, but you were going to agree just so you could feel his lips on yours. It was Eddie’s turn to lick into your mouth and you gave his tongue a rough suck, causing him to let out a little whimper. You both then immediately let go of each other, deciding that things were getting a little too heated considering that you were in public.

“Do you wanna move things to my van,” he asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the parking lot. You could feel your underwear dampening just thinking about it, but you didn’t think it was a good idea. You knew that if you had slept with him, you’d only want more and you were not about to let him win just because you were a little wet. You had a vibrator at home that could definitely get the job done.

“Nope,” you shook your head. “I just wanted a little taste.” You both paid your tabs and you hopped off of your stool before holding a hand out to him. “But I’ll let you walk me to my car.”

“I’ll take it.” He slid his hand into yours and it was just as rough as you had imagined. Not that you had been imagining what it would have been like to hold hands with him.

You pulled Eddie out of the bar and led him down the street to where you had parked. He had to admit that he liked how you took charge, pulling him along without a second thought. He liked the idea of following you wherever you were willing to take him. He didn’t care as long as he was with you.

You stopped when you got to your vehicle and Eddie couldn’t help but feel jealous that you knew how to parallel park. Of course you did. He was convinced that you could do anything. You slowly pulled your keys out of your purse, trying your best to stall to see if he would kiss you. He clearly hadn’t gotten the hint so you were yet again going to spell it out for him.

“Well, goodnight. I actually had a good time.” And you meant that. Eddie wasn’t half bad to hang out with when he wasn’t thinking with his dick. He was actually sweet and funny.

“Goodnight,” he nodded. “Text me when you get home okay? So I know you got there safe.”

“Sure,” you nodded. “The same goes for you.”

Taking matters into your own hands, your grabbed Eddie by his cheeks and gave him another kiss, this one softer and sweeter than the other ones. Just as he was getting into it, you pulled away and got into your car before he could see the blush on your cheeks.

You gave him a wave through the window then quickly drove away, wondering what the hell you had gotten yourself into. You had let your hormones take over and had made things weird between the two of you. All because you just had to listen to your urges. You weren’t sure how you were going to continue to see him without wanting to jump his bones, but you were going to damn well try.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #tattoo artist!eddie x tatoo artist!reader #tattoo artist!eddie

[devastatedloyallute]

// Bigger Than The Whole Sky // GuitarSpear - Adam x Lute

Summary: “Alright, so here we go, in order. Lilith went and cheated on me with Lucifer, then Lucifer convinced Eve to eat the one fucking thing we were told not to eat, got us both in deep shit, she started to get distant with me, then officially left me when one of our twins killed the other. The end, goodnight.”

Warnings: 🤷🏽‍♀️ I dunno

nah but in all seriousness, there is Major Character Death, but mainly it's a lot of fluff!

Note: Hey there peoples! Long post incoming! This will be the entirety of my GuitarSpear fic, if you'd like to read it in chapters you can go to my AO3 here! Hope you enjoy! Thank you again @shinynewboots 💕

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Lute and Adam lay on the couch watching some movie he had put on, some cheesy rom-com or something. It had been a week or so after that pretentious meeting with the Hell Princess. It was one of their casual nights in: a movie, snacks, PJs on, masks off, prime cuddling time. One of Adam’s arms was being used as a pillow for his head, the other around Lute’s waist as she lay in front of him. 

Lute, having lost interest in the movie a while ago, was off in her own thoughts. ‘ What makes me so different? Why did Adam choose me? Romantically speaking, that is. He could have anyone he wants…So why ?’

“Sir, why did you choose me?” She asks tilting her head back to look up to him.

“Huh?” He looks down at her puzzled, “Whadda mean?”

“What makes me different from your ex-wives?”

“What brought this on, Babe? You suddenly jealous or somethin’? That isn’t fuckin’ like you,” He grins and pokes her belly.

“Of course not! I was just curious, is all. You could have anyone, but here I am.” She says, playfully swatting his hand from her stomach.

“Well, ya know, I’ve told you both of them betrayed and left me. And you haven’t done that, and we’ve been hooked up for what, decades now? Longer? Who the fuck knows, but I know, that you’re the best damn thing I’ve got. And you’ve gotta be real fucking stupid to think I’d let you go,” He says as he squeezes her and nuzzles her cheek. “This movie is kinda dragging on, ready for bed?”

Lute nods as they get up to stretch and head off down the hallways towards their room. They stop at the bathroom to take a piss and brush their teeth. Spitting out her toothpaste, Lute asks, “So, you gonna continue to tell me what makes me so different? Go on, tell me how special I am~” She didn’t need the reassurance, she’s just teasing at this point, stalling bedtime.

“Fine, if you’re gonna be so adamant about it, let’s make it a story time. At my expense. You really wanna hear my sob story?” he replied with sarcasm. Lute stared up at him with puppy eyes and a pleading smile on her face. Adam rolled his eyes and ruffled her hair. “Come on then.”

The two get settled into bed, lying facing each other. Lute was still looking at him waiting. Adam gave a defeated sigh as he knew she wasn’t going to drop this topic until she got whatever answer she was looking for. 

“Alright, so here we go, in order. Lilith went and cheated on me with Lucifer, then Lucifer convinced Eve to eat the one fucking thing we were told not to eat, got us both in deep shit, she started to get distant with me, then officially left me when one of our twins killed the other. The end, goodnight.” He sped out in one breath.

Lute was dumbfounded, “That… gave me more questions than answers. I’m sorry, what the fuck?” She rubbed her forehead, trying to process all of that. “I was aware of the Lucifer shit, but what was that about your kid killing your other kid?!”

“Yup, and Eve tried to tell me it was all my fault and that I should have known better, yadda yadda- whatever. I wasn’t the one who ate that stupid apple and gained knowledge of shit. She did, and all the kids were born with that shit too. Not fucking me!”

“Wait, so what happened? Was she just super naive before the whole apple incident?”

“Yeah, she was the complete opposite of Lilith. She was real sweet, but emotionally too soft. The main problem with Lilith was she was defiant as shit. Eve, on the other hand, was entirely compliant. Was awesome at first, but she wouldn’t stand up for herself. She was such a sensitive baby. She took everything I said to heart, even when I was joking. Worst part was that she wouldn’t ever tell me if her feelings got hurt, but I could tell by the look in her eyes. I had felt horrible, but you know, it was my way of messing around. But I became afraid to say anything to her, in fear of hurting her. She was literally made for me, and I pushed her away. Big reason I was set on the whole ‘not going to fall in love again’ thing.” His tone was full of melancholy.

“But even after her fucking up our eternal paradise, we still stayed together. There was nobody else. She changed after eating that fucking apple. She became cold and distant. We did what we had to to survive, no longer in Eden where there were no dangers. ‘Course we fucked ‘cause you know, boredom. It was vanilla as fuck though, nothing like us,” He smirked at Lute with a wink. She responded with an eye roll and a smirk of her own.

“Then the twins were born, Cain and Abel. I loved those little shits. We had other kids too but they’re not important to this story,” He said as he waved his hand up.

Lute nodded, and then realized just how old Adam’s soul really is. ‘ Holy fuck, he’s ancient. And a dilf. Wow. Anyway ’ she thought.

“Anyway, as soon as they started walking on their own there was no fuckin’ stopping them. They were off playing their make believe games. I managed to at least keep them within ear shot if anything happened, but we had secured our home base pretty well. Not as safe as Eden, but as close as we could get. Eve was always off doing her own thing, and didn't want to be anywhere around me. At sunset I’d shout for the boys to come back and they’d tell me all about their adventures.”

“Did you ever join them?” Lute asked.

“Of fuckin’ ‘course I did! Good way to keep an eye on ‘em and have fun and form bonds with them,” he chuckled. “The boys were around eight years old when it happened. Cain told me he had ‘pretend’ killed his brother during their game. I guess I should have known something was up when he came back alone.”

-

“Okay, I won, you can stop being dead now. Come on, it’s starting to get dark. Dad’s gonna call for us any minute,” Cain says as he nudges his brother with his foot. “Abel, I get it, you’re a great pretender, but games over, let’s go home.” 

After Abel’s refusal to move, Cain grabs the stick he had used as his weapon in their game, ready to poke him. “I’m gonna poke you again if you don’t get up right now.” He looked down the pointed stick, noticing there was red liquid at its tip. Then it all clicked. He looked Abel over and saw the matching red liquid coming from his chest. He carefully moves his brother's hand over the wound to hide it. ‘Oh no’ was Cain’s only thought as he ran to hide the blood-stained stick off in a bush, before running to get his father.

“DAD! Dad, dad-” Cain came panting, “Abel stopped playing with me, will you come help?”

“What? What’s wrong?” Adam questioned. ‘That’s not like them, they always get along with their games,’ he thought.

“I can’t explain it, you gotta come get him!” as Cain sped off.

As the two arrive at Abel's body, Cain awkwardly looks around, making sure his accidental weapon couldn’t be seen. Adam looks Abel over, unsure of why he wasn’t responding. Adam kneels down and picks him up to carry him home, “He’ll be fine, must just be tuckered out from playing so hard. So what game were you playing this time?”

“We were playing hunters. I was the hunter and he was a bear! Like when we saw mom fight a bear that time, remember? Yeah, so we were playing, and I jabbed the bear ‘cause he was chasing after me. And then Abel stopped playing. Even after I said the game was done, he didn’t get up. I dunno why, maybe he was really tired like you said, I dunno.” Cain said with a nervous shrug.

They made it back to their home shelter, Adam set Abel down on the makeshift bed mat. Cain hurried beside his brother, watching him cautiously. ‘I am gonna be in so much trouble…what do I do?’

The night passed without incident.

In the morning when Abel still did not rise, his skin looking a lot paler as well, Cain grew more anxious. He knew he had done something wrong, but had no way to fix it. Guilt was eating at him, he had to tell someone. He had to tell his mother, she would know what to do.

“Mom? Can I tell you something?” Cain said sheepishly with his eyes looking at his feet.

“Of course, honey, what is the matter?” Eve asked as she knelt to his eye level.

“I…I think I did a bad. A really big bad. I think yesterday while Abel and I were playing, I hurt him really bad. I didn’t mean to! It was just pretend! But…I think I killed him.”

“Killed? Why do you think that?” Eve asked in a skeptical tone.

“It was like when you killed that bear that was attacking us. You poked it really hard and then it stopped moving. We were playing hunters and he was the bear. After I poked him he was bleeding, I think.”

“Oh my,” Eve brought her hand to her mouth, “Where was your father during this?!”

“He was at home, why?” Cain questioned.

“He should have been watching you two! If he was, this wouldn't have happened!” Eve stood, and headed off towards home.

“ADAM!” Hearing such an aggressive tone, one that he had only ever heard her use when defending against the wildlife, Adam’s head snapped in the direction of her voice. Eve was heading at him, enraged. He’d never seen such rage in her eyes before.

“Eve? I’ve been giving you your space, what did I do??” His hands raised and a tinge of fear in his voice. She had never raised her voice at him or even confronted him, much less aggressively.

“Where’s Abel?” Eve asked, though it was less of a question and more of a demand.

“He’s still asleep! He musta been really tired from yesterday,” Adam stated as Eve began to look for her son. She found him, pale and cold to the touch. 

“He isn’t sleeping you dunce, he’s dead!” Eve uncovered the wound hidden under Abel's hand. Adam had come over to see for himself, and sure enough, there was a small gaping hole in Abel’s chest.

“I swear that wasn’t there yesterday. How did that even happen?!” Adam stared in shock and disbelief.

“You weren’t watching the boys, that’s how! You’re supposed to watch over them, keep them safe! Cain stabbed him with a stick during their game!”

“How was I to know this would happen?! They’ve always been fine without much supervision before, why would this time have been different? And by that, he learned it from you, after watching you kill that bear,” Adam gestured to her.

“Oh, so, what was I meant to do? Let the bear kill all of us?” Eve threw her arms up in a huff.

Cain watched his parents back and forth as they continued to argue. This was his fault, but he didn’t think he would really kill his brother when reenacting their mother’s bear fight. It really was an accident.

Eve grabbed Cain by the wrist, “We’re leaving, you will not be seeing us again. Oh, and you might want to start digging a hole to bury him. I will not stand to bury my own son.”

Cain followed his mother but looked over his shoulder to see his father. Adam stood defeated, his shoulders slouched, and looking at Abel’s body.

 “I’m sorry.” Cain pouted.

“This isn’t your fault, sweetheart. But you will have to live with this for the rest of your life.” Eve tried to comfort him. 

“Can I fix it somehow?” He looked at her with pleading eyes.

“I don’t think so, honey,” she squeezed his hand, “but I’ll be with you through it.”

Adam watched as they left, an emptiness growing in his chest. As reality set in he fell to his knees. He was alone yet again. After a bit of collecting himself, he brings himself to the body of his son. He felt pains in his heart, now understanding that his son was gone. 

He sets a large stone at the head of the hole he had spent the last hour digging, before slowly lowering Abel into it. He felt hot tears run down his cheeks as he began filling the hole. ‘What did I do wrong? What did I do to deserve this? Why?!’

Years passed, but Adam never left the place he had called home, despite the horrible memories. Day and night, in and out, he grieved at his lost son’s grave. He rarely ate, and couldn’t bear to go too far from the grave, in fear that a wild animal would come and dig Abel out of the ground while he was gone and Adam would have to deal with the emotions of burying him again. 

When Adam awoke, he was no longer beside his son’s grave. He was now in the clouds. “What is this? Where am I?”

“Welcome first man, Adam. This is Heaven. You are the first human soul to arrive.” Said the angel who appeared in front of him.

“Huh? How did I get here? What about my home?” He questioned frantically, looking around.

“You must have passed in your sleep. You died.” The angel avoided eye contact, and disregarded his questions. 

“Oh. Alright, so I guess nothing down there matters anymore. So what do I do here?”

“Whatever you like,” The angel gestured to the rest of Heaven.

“Great, so a whole lot of nothing. Being alone again. Forever. Cool,” Adam rolled his eyes in contempt.

“Not quite, there are other angels here. Soon enough there will be other souls here,”

“Wait, so, will my family be here too? What about my son? He died before me, is he here?”

“Unfortunately, not everyone comes here. Those who have committed sins do not. Your wife, Eve, did commit the first sin, which is what got you removed from paradise. She will not be here. One of your sons, Cain, will also not be here when he dies. He committed the first murder.”

“But that was an accident! He never meant to do that, they were children playing a game. They were good kids.” Adam argued.

“Accident or not, it makes no difference. Sin is sin. You will understand that in time. Those who belong here will be here.”

The angel left in a flash of light, leaving Adam feeling conflicted. Maybe they were right. He must have done something right if he ended up here. 

-

“But yeah, that’s that story, ya happy now?” Adam said as he scooted closer to Lute.

“That does clear that up.” She draped her arm over his shoulder, pulling him in. “You good? Something else on your mind, Sir?” 

“Ya know, this wasn’t it but it’s pretty fucking weird you keep calling me ‘Sir’ even when we aren’t on the job, Babe.” He muttered into her chest.

“And you calling me ‘Babe’ even though you tend to call nearly every woman babe, isn’t?” She smirked, curling a bit of his hair around her finger.

“...yeah okay, fair point. Anyway, I fuckin’ love you. I’m so fucking scared to lose you. I’ve somehow fucked up every legitimate relationship I’ve been in. I mean yeah, before you came along, I’d messed around with angels and stuff. There was that one and only time Sera let me down on Earth, and I fucked around with human ladies, yeah she wasn’t impressed with me on that one. But none of those were genuine feelings, you know?” Adam recounted his times as Lute petted his hair down. “I didn’t want to let myself get feelings for fucking anyone. Didn’t need to go through heartbreak in fucking Heaven, am I right?”

He looked up at her with soft eyes, “But when I met you, things felt different. I wanted to force those thoughts and feelings away. You climbed those ranks and soon you were appointed as lieutenant. I figured I could do one of two things: either give in and try to swoon you, or push you away. Can’t get rejected if I never try right? To be real, trying to push you away only backfired.”

Lute looked a little taken aback, “You were pushing me away? Couldn’t tell,” she shrugged.

“Me being an asshole seemed to only pull you in, you crazy bitch. You’re a masochist or somethin’, Babe,” He cupped her cheek and booped her nose with his thumb.

“What really makes you different is that you’re everything they were but better. I’m not afraid to pester you, and if I do go too far you put me in my fuckin’ place. You don’t take shit, and can dish it out. We have practically the same humor, we can bully each other but know it’s not serious. But we also have these soft and sensitive times. Not to mention our awesome as fuck sex life. You’re a kinky bitch.” He grins as he kisses her. Lute wraps her arms around his head as they kiss, breaking for air only to go in again. Smiles on both their faces, this truly was paradise.

“You know, I’ve got some insecurities too, now seems to be the time to voice them,” Lute brushed her now messy bangs out of her face.

“I just spilled my guts, so go for it, Babe,” He leaned back, ready to listen.

“It’s nothing spectacular, just that even though I’m well respected among the exorcists, I can’t shake the feeling of being outcasted. Not that I don’t get along with the others, but there’s this weighing feeling of judgment from them.”

“Eh, they’re just fuckin’ jealous of your position.”

“That’s just it, it’s not just that. I’ve heard them whisper about how I’m ‘the bosses’ favorite’.”

“Fucking true though-” He chirped, only to be met with a glare from Lute.

“You’re all I’ve got, Sir. Because of my position, and our status, the other exorcists are…intimated. So it’s been difficult to make…friends.” Lute appeared dejected. Adam sat up and scooped her into his lap. 

“Aw, don’t be down, Lute. You’ve got me and I’ve got you, who needs anyone else?” He squeezed her and nuzzled his forehead to hers. She nuzzled him back and kissed his cheek.

Someone had initiated a tickle war. There was a dramatic *THUD* as said someone hit the floor.

Lute tried to catch her breath, recovering from the laughing fit brought on by Adam flinging himself off the bed. 

“You okay?” She managed to chuckle out, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Hah, fuck, yeah, yeah I’m good,” He huffed out as he brought himself to the edge of the bed.

“Hey, did you ever get an answer to what happened to Abel? Is he in Heaven or not?”

“Yeah he’s up here. Like how the fuck do you forget about the kid running around up here somewhere? How they managed to keep him a secret is beyond me.”

“So, where is he?” Lute questioned as Adam crawled up onto the bed rubbing the back of his head.

“He’s uh, now he’s in that district where the young kids go. Kids who died from neglect and shit. It’s basically a giant playground daycare sorta place. Emily decided she really didn’t want it looking like a school ‘cause it wouldn’t be the best memories for the ones who were killed in those fucking school shootings. They still learn a few things but yeah it’s mainly a playplace.” Adam said as he awkwardly fixed his pajamas and straightened his feathers.

“...Have you ever gone to see him?”

“I did, once…It was a few years after I got here, I had just learned that he was up here. I hadn’t really thought he’d be up here since I was told I was the first human here, so when Sera told me, I went to go see him. When he saw me though he was terrified. I tried to be like ‘hey it’s me, your dad!’ only for him to make the saddest fucking face I’d ever seen and his little voice go ‘You let me die.’ It felt like being stabbed, set on fire, then thrown down an endless pit. It fucking sucked. I already had to bury this kid, just for him to also blame me for his death in the afterlife.” Adam faceplanted himself into his pillow with a groan. 

Lute pat his back in an attempt to comfort him. “It’s been a while, maybe you could try seeing him again? He’s eight, I don’t think he’ll have held a grudge this long.”

“Ughhh but what if he has? What if he doesn’t even want to see me? I have ultimately failed as a dad. You don’t know the pain of being rejected so coldly by your own kid. That shit stays with you.” Adam whined, turning his head to look at her. “You gonna come with me?”

“Of course, Sir. We don’t have any meetings tomorrow so we can go then.” She plants a small kiss on his temple. He groaned in response. Of course, he would want to see his son again, but doesn’t want to feel guilt tripped again. “Let’s get some rest.” 

Coming up to the entrance, the large sign reads ‘Heaven’s Forever Daycare’. Adam shoved his hands into his pockets, still regretting letting Lute convince him to do this. Lute brushed her hand over his arm in reassurance.

“Don’t worry, Sir. The important thing is you’re here. I’ll do the talking. Come on,” Lute lead the way into the building, with Adam cautiously following her inside. At the desk stood an angel whose name tag read ‘Elle - Nanny’, their clothes were covered in stickers, presumably from the children.

“Good morning, we are here to see Abel,” Lute said as she stepped up to the desk.

“Good morning, ma’am. Unfortunately, you will have to be a little more specific. We have about 30 ‘Abels’ here. Last name?” The nanny smiled politely at her.

Lute looked over to Adam who had his back turned to them, fiddling with the horns of his mask, and his feathers ruffled. She sighed and looked back at the worker, “There isn’t a last name. The first man, Adam’s son, that Abel.”

The angel looked past Lute, at Adam, giving him a look of concern. “Ah, I see…one moment.”

Lute stepped back to console the anxious Adam, “You should probably remove your mask, Sir. He might not be able to recognize you with it.”

Adam removed his mask with a sigh, “Fuck…yeah, yeah you’re right. Fuck, I already hate this.”

A voice cried out “DAD!” followed by running footsteps. They turn to see a small boy with soft brown hair and golden eyes, running at them with arms held wide. Abel stops short of the pair, startled by Lute. 

“Wait, who are you?” He tilted his head at her in confusion.

Lute knelt down to his eye level, “I’m Lute, your, uh-” she glances over at Adam, looking for an answer, only to be given a confused shrug. “Uh, I guess sort of like a stepmom? Sure, we’ll go with that.” She fumbled her way through that sentence.

 “Stepmom? That’s so cool!! I have a mom again! Wait, mom would be confusing ‘cause I used to have one of those…can I call you mama instead?” He says as he hugs her enthusiastically.  

Lute fights back the tears that threaten to fall that sting at the corner of her eyes. ‘ This kid is adorable ’ she thinks. “Uh, sure, buddy, Mama works.” She pat his head, looking over his features, “You look so much like your dad, it’s uncanny.”

Abel stepped toward Adam, looking up at him expectantly with his arms raised. Adam took a deep breath and picked his son up. “Hey kiddo, so…you still mad at me?” 

Abel shook his head, “No not anymore, Dad. I’ve learned a lot of things and one of those is forgiveness. People make mistakes, they’re just human after all. Sometimes all they need is a second chance, right?” 

Adam and Lute look at each other wide-eyed, sharing the same thought,  ‘ Oh shit, we are gonna be horrible parents to this kid. He’s too pure. ’ 

Abel wrapped his little arms around Adam’s neck and Adam put his hand on his kid’s back. “Thanks kiddo. Hey wanna go back with us? Or maybe just spend the day getting caught up and you can get to know your new mom?” 

Abel looked to the nanny as if asking if it were okay to go with them, to be given a nod in response. He sees his friends in the distance, them watching him with his dad. “Yeah but…I want to come back here. I can’t leave my friends, dad. They don’t have their moms or dads here with them. But sometimes one of their parents will come to get them, and then they don’t come back. We all miss them when they leave. We know they are with family again but we never see them again. It’s really sad.” 

Lute comes to stand beside them, “Okay buddy we can do that, if you want to stay here we can always come and visit if you’d like,”  Abel nods in agreement and pulls out his fist, and Lute returns the fist bump. The kid’s eyes lit up and a smile grew on his face. 

“Here, take this for a sec,” Adam says as he hands Abel to Lute so he could put his mask back on. Abel giggles as he's passed to Lute. “So where ya wanna go, squirt?”

No response. 

“Hey? Hello?” Adam made confused faces, waving his hand over the kid’s face to get his attention.

Lute chuckles, “He’s watching how your mask changes”  

“Ooh yeah that tracks, it’s pretty fuckin cool, huh?” Abel nods in amazement. “So now will ya tell me where you wanna go? The zoo? Ice cream shop? Anywhere, you name it.” 

“Oooh, ice cream! Ice cream!” He chanted.

Adam puts Abel on his back, “Aight, hold on tight kid. You ever flown before?”

The kid shook his head. “Nuh-uh, my wings are too small,” He pouted.

“Well, you’re gonna now, at least as a passenger anyway. Get ready for the coolest time you’ve ever fuckin’ had!” With the flap of mighty wings, they were off. 

Heading to the ice cream shop, Adam made a loop in the air, only for Abel to have slipped off half way around. “OH SHIT” Adam mid-panic, managed to grab him quickly, “Whoops, you fucking good, kiddo?”

Abel stared up at his father with wide eyes, clearly shaken. “Y-yeah. That was scary. Fun, but scary. Please don’t do that again.”

“Holy fuck. Trust me little man, that was not planned. Fuckin’ gave me a heart attack.”

Lute hovered close by, disappointingly reminding herself, ‘ Boys will be boys. Boys will be boys .”

Back at home, they ordered pizza and wings for dinner. Sitting at the kitchen table, Adam asks, “So bud, did you have fun today? Anything we forgot?”

“Yeah I did have lots of fun. But I do have a question. The adults won’t tell me, but you’re my dad so you would know, right?” Abel questions as he bites more of his pizza slice.

“Yeah! I know everything, hit me.” Adam boasted as he stuffed a wing in his mouth and pulled it back out clean.

“Where did mom and brother go? Why aren’t they here in Heaven with us?”

Silence. 

“Uh, well…Um…” Adam fumbled his hands around trying to form the way to word things. “Well, ya see…There are good people, and then there are not so good people. The not so good people go to a different place. So..” He shrugged, hoping to drop this topic.

Abel furrowed his brow and frowned. After a bit he asked, “Can we go visit them?” 

Lute put her hand on his shoulder, “Sorry buddy, we can’t do that.”

 “They’re probably not there anymore anyway,” Adam said under his breath not so quietly, which got met with a glare from Lute. 

“What does he mean, mama?” Abel looked at her with pleading eyes, hurt and confused.

Lute searched her mind for a way to answer without saying, ‘ We go down and purge the bad souls on a now bi annual schedule.’ That’s not a good idea.  “That place is full of violence, bad people killing just because they can. They could have fallen by any of those people. It’s not safe down there.” 

Adam realized her little lie and chimed in, “Yeah and there’s also this curse that clears out random souls who have been there for years and years. So that Hell doesn’t get too crowded. There’s a lot, and I mean a lot, of bad, horrible fuckin’ people who go to Hell every year.”

Lute gives him a look of disbelief as if to say, ‘ that was a little on the nose, don’t you think? ’ 

Abel is quiet for a while. “I guess that does make sense. Not everyone comes to Heaven…So there has to be a place for the others to go. But what if there’s some people in Hell who only made small mistakes or just one big mistake? Can’t they eventually be forgiven for them?” 

The pair look at each other with unease. They need to find a way to get off of this topic and fast. It was very uncomfortable. Kid is spouting facts but they go against their entire job and everything they believe in. The silence was becoming deafening, what could they say that would be convincing enough to change the topic?

“How ‘bout we watch a movie?” Adam clapped his hands together, “When the movie’s done we can bring you back to the playcare.”

“Okay! Any movie? Even if I’ve watched it before?” Abel was practically bouncing in his seat. Adam and Lute shared a quick sigh of relief.

“‘Course! So whatcha wanna put on?” Adam, pleased with himself for changing the topic. 

“All Dogs Go To Heaven! I’ve only seen it once, the caretakers didn’t want to put it on again for some reason. I really liked it though! Charlie was a bad doggy, but he sacrificed himself for a little girl and got a second chance to get into Heaven!”

 Lute and Adam shared the same agonizing thought. ‘ It’s gonna be a long night. ’

“Oh you know, Hell is mentioned in the movie but I never thought it was real. Just a movie thing, but now I know that it's not. Maybe that’s why they wouldn’t play it again…But I really enjoyed it!” Abel realized.

As the movie ends, Adam gets up to stretch. ‘ Yeah I can see why they didn’t wanna fucking play that movie again. Yeesh. Fuckin’ tear jerker ending though, damn. ’ Turning back to look at Lute who was picking up the leftovers from dinner, “What did you think, Babe?”

“It was…definitely something. That dog showed great loyalty, I respect it.” 

“Yeah! He became a better dog and got to go back to Heaven! Now do you think bad people can change?” Abel bounced with his little fists balled in excitement.

“Eh it’s just a movie, kiddo. It ain’t real. Anywho, you guys ready to go?”

“Mama, will you carry me this time? I don’t wanna fall again.”

“Come on, I said I was sorry!” 

“You actually didn’t, Sir,” Lute came over to join the two, turning the TV off. “We don’t have to fly there if you don’t want to, can always walk there.”

“Oh okay! Let’s go! I can’t wait to see my friends and tell them what we did today!”

“Sheesh, kid, how do you still have so much fuckin’ energy?” Adam watched as Abel bounced on his toes, just raring to go.

Coming back to the daycare and checking in again with Elle at the desk, Abel gives the pair hugs before he runs off to greet his friends who were waiting for him. “Bye Mama! Bye Dad! Come visit again!” Lute and Adam wave back as they watch his friends look questionably at them. They wave goodbye to the nanny at the desk before heading home.

“Why did your parents bring you back? Did they not want to keep you?” One of the kids asked worriedly.

“No, no! I wanted to come back to be with you guys! I’m lucky to still have my dad but I’d feel bad ditching you guys. I don’t want to just leave and never come back,” Abel says as he waves his hands at his friends. “It’s okay! They’re gonna come visit when they can, they’re really busy with important angel stuff. He’s like a higher up, he’s so cool, my dad’s the best!”

Adam collapsed face first onto the couch, “That was fucking rough.”

“You’re telling me,” Lute said as she grabs a drink for each of them from the fridge. Sett his drink on the coffee table, and nudged him to move over so she can sit on the couch as she took a sip of her drink. “Being called ‘mama’ sure is a super weird feeling. You feel better now that you’ve reunited with Abel?”

Adam raised his head and pat the cushion, wanting to use her lap as a pillow. “You know, yeah. Today was mostly fun. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any of my kids, but he hasn’t changed a bit. Well, other than the whole thinking sinners can be redeemed shit. He’s too smart for his own good. Gets it from me, ya know.” 

“Uh huh, of course he does, Sir.” Lute said as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“Are you for real sassing me right now, bitch?”

“Me? Whaat nooo, I would never,” She said with a mischievous grin.

“You are so lucking I’m so fucking tired.”

“Oh yeah? What would you do if you weren’t?” She cocked her eyebrow at him.

“...”

“Nothing? Giving me the silent treatment now?” 

Still no reaction. Was he really so tired he fell asleep? 

“Hey, dick for brains. I’m gonna push you on the floor if you don’t answer me,”

“...”

“Sir?” She leaned over him to check if his eyes are closed. “Adam?” 

He lunged at her, frivolously peppering her face with kisses. “No! No more! Stop it!” Her retaliations fell on deaf ears. She laughed as she tried to push him off her but he’s holding her down as he continued to bully her with his affections. 

“Nope, not gonna happen, Babe. You’re gonna get all these fucking kisses and you are gonna like ‘em,” He dove in to aggressively kiss her, but instead plants a soft kiss on her lips. “Betcha thought I was gonna do it again, huh?” He snuggled into her chest, making himself comfy. 

“We’re not sleeping out here on the couch. Come on, let's get ready for bed.”

“Mmh…no. Comfy here,” He mumbled against her. 

She rolled her eyes, and pat his shoulder, “The bed is much comfier, just have to get there first.”

Adam whined as he reluctantly rolled himself off the couch. “Alriiight…fine let’s go.” The two once again head off down the hallway, going about their nightly routine, before laying down for the night.

It had been a few weeks since the last extermination. Lute was currently alone at their home. Emily had been coming over on occasion to check on her and make sure she was doing as well as she could be. Emily doesn’t agree with or like the exterminations and the practices of the exorcists, but she still cares for her people. Lute was adjusting to doing things without her left arm.

She debated on if she should tell Abel that Adam had been killed. Would that even be a good idea? Could she bring herself to do that? He may have been in Heaven for centuries now, but he’s still a child. How can you tell a child their parent is dead?

Lute made up her mind and when she had collected herself well enough to go out in public, she went to pick up Abel. Keeping it together enough to speak to Elle, the nanny from before, and ask for Abel. Soon after an excited Abel came running out, happy to see his parents again, to only see Lute standing alone.

“Mama! What happened to your arm?! Where’s dad?!” Abel came running to her and hugged her. Lute knelt down and covered them both with her wings, attempting to hide herself from the shame of her emotions. 

“Adam was…he was killed. He’s gone…” Her voice cracked as she held Abel tightly against her, tears stinging her eyes.

“What? No! How? How did that happen? Tell me you’re lying, Mama, angels don’t die!” His pleading and horrified expression only made Lute’s heart sink further into her stomach.

“I’m so sorry,” She choked as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

Abel sniffles and brushes his tears away, then wipes Lute’s tears. “I’m gonna come home with you, Mama. I can be strong. Strong for both of us.” He hugs her before taking a few steps back, “I gotta go tell my friends that I’m leaving, I’ll be right back!”

Lute stands and recollects herself, before stepping over to the registry desk. “Is there any paperwork or anything I have to sign to take him?”

Elle looked at her sorrowfully, “There is just this one ma’am,” as they pulled out the kid’s file from the desk drawer. “Just states that you’re a legal guardian so we know he went to the right parents. I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am.”

Lute took in a shallow breath, “Thank you.” 

Abel came running back, with his friends in tow. His friends hugged him goodbye as they said farewells. “I’m ready, Mama. I brought some of my favorite stuffies to give you. They’re to make you feel better, they made me feel better when I was upset.” Abel held up a stuffed baby penguin.

Lute’s face scrunched in a pout, trying to fight back tearing up again. ‘ How is this kid so fucking sweet? He’s just been told his dad is dead but he’s more concerned for me. ’ Abel stuffed the penguin into his backpack and held out his hand to take hers.

Four months had passed since bringing Abel home from the daycare. Lute and Abel lay on the floor in the collapsed remnants of what was once a pillow fort in the center of the living room. A knock at the door came unexpectedly. 

“It’s unlocked!” Lute announced from the floor.

“I can get it,” Abel scrambles to his feet and dashes for the door, opening it to find Emily looking disheveled.

“Woah, you okay? Where’s the fire?” Lute says as she rights herself and makes her way to Emily in the doorway.

Emily shook her head and pointed to her phone frantically, “I just talked to Charlie. It took me a while to sneak into Sera’s phone to get Lucifer’s number, but I needed to so that I could get Charlie’s number.” 

Lute looked at her like she was nuts, “Why did you come all the way here just to tell me you spoke to the Hell Princess?”

“I had to let Charlie know that her hotel really works!” 

“A hotel?” Abel looked between the two angels, perplexed.

Lute’s jaw dropped, “What? How is that even possible?” 

Emily shook her head again, “I’m not sure, but someone who was a resident there has arrived here! Sera told me to keep it a secret but I just couldn’t, I really needed to let Charlie know about this.”

Lute looked at her skeptically, “And you came to me because…?”

“Charlie told me that Adam has been staying at the hotel!” 

Lute felt her heart drop and an intense chill cover her body. ‘ Adam is alive? But how? I watched him die. I was there. He died. ’

Lute’s feathers ruffled as she grew agitated,  “Are you fucking with me? Is this some kind of sick joke?”  

“Will someone tell me what’s going on?!” Abel cried, not having any clue what they’re talking about. He turns to Emily, hoping for an answer. “Is my dad really alive? How? Why isn't he here?”

“I don’t know how, but Charlie and I agree that if a soul in Hell can be redeemed, then the opposite is also true. A soul in Heaven could be condemned to Hell.” Emily explained.

“Redeemed? Like, they were forgiven?” His face lit up when the angel nodded in agreement. “ I knew it! I knew it was possible! That’s awesome, right, Mama?” 

He looked over to see Lute still processing the information that was received. Her face was void of expression while she contemplated.

 “Mama?” Abel reached out to her, his touch snapping her out of her trance.

She looked at Emily with determination in her eyes, “…Will you take me to him?”

Emily tensed her hands into fists, “Um, yeah I think I can! I’m not too skilled at portals but I can give it my best shot!”

“I’m coming too!” Abel shared in the enthusiasm, but as Lute set her hand on his shoulder and knelt beside him, he knew she was going to tell him no.

“I’m sorry buddy, but Hell isn’t a safe place. There are still bad people down there. They don’t like people like us down there.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Stay here by myself?”

“I can get a hold of one of my...coworkers, and have her come stay with you. Or you could go visit your friends at the daycare while I’m away?”

“I’ll go see my friends...Are you going to come back for me?” Abel’s eyes didn’t leave the floor as he spoke.

“Of course I will. And if Adam is alive, I’m going to drag his sorry ass back up here,” She rose to meet Emily’s gaze. “I just need to see this for myself, until then I’m not believing a word of it. If this is some sort of trap, so help me…”

“It’s not, I promise! I’m just as shocked as you!” Emily put her hands up defensively. “At least…I don’t think it is, why would Charlie lie to me?” 

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

#if you noticed any grammatical errors no you didn't 💗 #hopefully this posts correctly with no issues #fingers crossed #hope the link works too #ANYWAY hope yall enjoy! #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel adam #guitarspear #guardrock #adam x lute #adam and lute #hazbin hotel fanfiction #bigger than the whole sky #fanfiction #ao3 link #tabithawrites #tabithaposts

[ask-thearchivists]

What is a memory you all will never forget

There is a tense, loaded silence before any of them answer.

The Coordinator: The births of the Curator and the Cartographer. It was the first birth of any of my siblings that I was old enough to remember clearly, and twins are incredibly rare for our species.

The Curator: I feel the same about the the birth of our youngest sibling. He's the only one younger than me and the Cartographer. They were sooo cute! Just a sweet, chubby little baby. He was born with all of his teeth which is cool.

The Cartographer: The Curator playing with the Collector after he was born and getting their fingers bitten.

The Curator: HEY!

#ask blog #ask the archivists #asks are open #toh the archivists #the owl house #toh #toh oc #the archivists #toh the collector #the collector #id in alt text #the real answer for all of them in order is #the coordinator being told after their parent was arrested that they'd all be separated unless she would step in to raise them #and of course the Collector being imprisoned #the curator will never forget the neglect they and their twin were subjected to (and the Collector being imprisoned) #the cartographer will never forget their parent being arrested and fighting back trying not to be taken from xer children #the Collector being imprisoned #and the feeling of being forced to wear one of Charmer's Titan costumes

[zeravmeta]

they were all fakers huh. not just koyan but all the alter egos of the foreign god even the foreign god itself with its quest for dominance they were all fakers who tried to surpass the original and who all had no true place among humans. koyan and limbo are obvious examples but it also applies to muramasa and rasputin (noted freaks and outcasts of their era and inhabiting individuals that reflect this accordingly) and holmes himself as a hidden traitor and reflection to moriarty.

koyanskaya wanted to emulate the monster that tamamo no mae once was, something that could freely torment and destroy humans, but tamamo was a being who had always strived for understanding yet was never shown compassion. shes so committed to the good wife role because its something that will have her accepted by other humans, and more specifically something that will help her understand human love. tamamo had always wanted love and acceptance by humanity, but koyanskaya already holds human love within her whether she likes it or not, not only because of her status as a beast but also because she's representative of the animals that have walked alongside humanity from the beginning. its why tamamo is her mirror, why koyanskaya was even classified as an alter ego of tamamo in the first place, and it's also why there's even a koyanskaya of the Light and a koyanskaya Go In The Dark: they not only represent the death and life zones of her reality marble, they're another emulation of tamamo having split herself apart into the tamamo nine (the bnuuy two?). koyanskaya isnt the tamamo no mae or a part of the nine, nor is she daji as well, but she is a being similar to them because she exists with the same natural dichotimatic feelings towards humans. they hold a love for humanity that is fundamentally at odds with their own nature as natural enemies of humanity.

I feel like this is in part why ibuki douji was the only servant that could be brought in from the outside: She's also a living calamity towards humans, a literal force of nature with a will of its own. she had amnesia entering tunguska because it was a world antithetical to humans, reflective of koyanskayas mindset but also her ideal vision of a world, full of beings removed from humans and defense mechanisms celebrating the murder humans are capable of. if you took her history with humanity away, the ibuki douji that's left is quite literally just a happy go lucky free spirit of nature in a world made for herself, no longer a venerated god or feared calamity.

deep down, it's what koyanskaya wanted for herself.

taigong knew that the fair faced golden fox was a being that couldn't help its nature, it was specifically born as a monster that was meant to torment and destroy humans, but he still fell in love with her not in spite of her nature but because of it. he knew that she was a monster that would only terrorize humans but as he sees her struggling to survive he can't help but empathize with that as a fellow human, and more than anything taigong follows through on dajis curse of immortality because that's what it meant to love her, to achieve her final dream. to carry the memory of someone you love

taigong and nikitich were the only servants able to be summoned into tunguska because they were the only ones who would have compassion for koyanskaya, and compassion, understanding is what's needed to defeat beasts of humanity. it's never about defeating the big enemy, its about reaching an understanding.

anyways they just needed like 1 extra tidbit to foreshadow this beforehand so that tunguska wouldnt have been so poorly received 2ish years ago (and i mean. we do have that moment in SIN with QSH thats even called out in koyanskayas profile) + proper scheduling to not have this critical story piece be a time limited raid event (lol epic of remnant gudaguda moment) but hey they're funny

#love❤️ was the answer all along. we defeat each alter ego with love❤️. #inside you are two wolves ones is a fox the other is a bnuuy both of them want to maul that man #comun watching me shift my opinion on koyan in real time like senator armstrong AM I FINALLY GETTING THROUGH...!? #fgo #fate grand order #zerav meta #koyanskaya

[starry-bi-sky]

Hi uhh I really love your Damian and Danny siblings short. I wonder if uhh will you add a more connected story.

Also how did the mirage happen and is it only Bruce and Damian who saw it?

thank you! And honestly I might add a more connected story (i posted a miscellaneous post about the danny from that post because I was still thinking about him). The more I think about it though, yeah probably? I'd like to explore that reunion between Danny and Damian at some point. Plus Danny's experience in Amity Park and his growth from there.

The post was meant to be more of a prompt for other people to take inspiration from and add their own ideas onto, so the mirage was something I kept purposely vague so that people could come up with their own theories about it. But for my take on it? Magic user in Gotham that they got in a fight with. It was a physically visual mirage so anyone who was in the room could've seen it, and it was capable of being picked up on the cameras in their mask/cowls (which i hear is a thing sometimes) so it can be replayed back in the cave.

#danyal al ghul au #dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpdc #older brother danny #which damian might do a lot because that mirage showed quite a LOT of memories actually even if iI only wrote extended specific ones #and he'll rewatch them in order to make sense of them - to figure out if they were real because the memories all seemed to come from #danyal's point of view and then to try and make sense of them. he's hated danny for all his living memory and thought for sure that danny #hated him back. and then he's finding out that danyal didn't hate him but was instead actively encouraging *damian* to hate him #and killed assassins for him. sat outside his room to listen to anyone who might break in. and then faked his death in order to avoid havin #to fight him to the death?? sacrificed his spot as the eldest and heir to the LoA for him. potentially gave up any chance of meeting their #father because he was told it wasn't safe. then went off to live with complete strangers unaffiliated with the league in order to lay low #all at ten years old. he's trying to make sense of all that and sort through his own feelings. kinda wants to hunt him down and demand #answers from him. because what the fuck??? but also doesn't know if he wants to see him again. nothing's been forgiven but he wants answers

[anonymouspuzzler]

What are your thoughts on the new Off the Hook songs?

FGEEL REALLY NORMAL

#anonymous puzzler answers #don't get me wrong i love deep cut and i love the squid sisters but side order & related really cemented that pearl and marina are THE PEAK #look at this. Marina's hanging all over her wife with love in her eyes and they're dropping banger tracks every time they show up. #you can't beat that you just can't. i love them also i need to have every pearl look in real life please

[shima-draws]

Currently in my banging my head against the wall phase. Hope you all are well 🥰

#Doc told me to schedule another MRI on Tuesday. They said they sent the order over on Tuesday. #I call on Tuesday to schedule the appointment. They don't have the referral yet #I called yesterday to try and schedule. They STILL don't have the referral #I message my doc and make sure they actually sent it over to the right place. (They did.) #They say they'll fax it over again! Great! #I call AGAIN today. They STILL don't have the referral #Bro I just need to schedule this fucking MRI so I can find out what's WRONG with me #The girl on the phone was like 'Oh yeah we're real busy we get orders all the time it must not have hit the system yet' #BRO IT'S BEEN THREE DAYS. HOW HAS NOBODY SEEN IT. TEARING my hair out #I went to their website to try and schedule online. Guess what? THEIR GODDAMN SCHEDULING ASSISTANT IS DOWN FOR MAITENANCE #SCREAMS #Anyway yes so in my banging my head against the wall phase. I'm so tired #And still in pain! To nobody's surprise!! #They can't fix what's wrong with me if I can't even get in to get an MRI. Hello. PLEASE #This isn't really smth that can wait a couple weeks #I should've been in to see them like YESTERDAY. #My pain is so bad I had to stay at home today. And I go and ice my back every hour or so #Bc I can't sit down for more than 45 minutes without wanting to kill myself ;)))) #Shima speaks #I'M SORRY I'm just so. I've been over this for months. And now that I'm THIS close to getting answers #I can't. Seem to get these people to schedule an appointment for me #Grinds my teeth

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

Aspect of Order: Primordial & Present-Day

One of the first deities, part of what is known as the Primordial Triad. It created the planes alongside the Aspects of Chaos and the In-Between and held dominion over the Material Plane. It embodied order in the way nature has order: the life cycle, gravity, the tides, the surety that the seasons will change, the patterns that appear in flora and fauna alike, the symmetry of pinecones and butterflies. It was associated with the night as a time of quiet preparation where the world rests, and when one can see the remains of creation in the darkened sky. It is said that the two moons of the Material Plane are its eyes, watching over its creations.

All three members of the Primordial Triad are referred to with "it", so ancient and unfathomable that applying a mortal, transient concept of gender to them seemed almost blasphemous.

Almost.

The modern-day conception of Order is quite different. Though she still reigns over the night and natural laws, her followers have placed her at the forefront of the creation process, reducing the In-Between's role and rejecting Chaos altogether. Though most present-day cultures think of her in this way, many of them do not emphasize her: she is an invisible Over-God, keeping the other deities and forces in line and maintaining cosmic balance from behind the scenes. In places where she is worshipped heavily, however, she is placed at the forefront of the pantheon. In those cases, worship of deities with overlapping domains is either illegal (ex local gods of justice) or considered secondary to her (ex the god of the Wilds). The worship of smaller, local deities is usually discouraged or suppressed over-all in these areas in order to encourage a more structured, uniform religious practice. While both aspects of Order championed paladins, Primordial Order also championed druids and rangers while Modern Order champions clerics.

Ancient theologians debated whether or not Order and Chaos were two aspects of the same being (ironically, there was no question that the In-Between was its own separate force). However, following the iconoclasm that effectively forced Chaos out of the pantheon and created the modern conception of Order, such lines of thought were considered heretical, and then blasphemous.

The iconoclasm did have an unintended consequence, however. Crying motifs appeared in some art of Primordial Order around that time, particularly in the areas that resisted the iconoclasts more intensely. Some scholars believe that it may have been a direct reaction to the event: Order mourning the loss of its counterpart. Others have argued, however, that the lack of such motifs (or equivalents) in depictions of the In-Between prove this wrong. After all, why would it not also be grieving?

#irredeemed project #<- the working tag for this for now #i've been working on this project off & on for a couple years now #and the primordial triad has had a chokehold on me the entire time #i dont have names for any gods but the in-between (i think i'm gonna keep erasmus) #because i'd gotten stuck and wanted a clean slate. if i name a deity i feel like it has to have a solid form of some sort #and not all of them will #i'm not doing these in any sort of order. i have two other pages done #one of them is for a goddess that i've also been turning around in my head this entire time #i dont have many of the actual historical events fleshed out or any plot points for the 'present day' of the world #so stuff is going to be vague for a moment #i fucking. love the idea of writing/drawing about the world from the perspective of the people who are in it #so historical eras/distinct art movements across time & cultures/theological debates that people disagree on #and how that last thing works when the gods are undeniably & obviously real in some way #im sure the 'right' answers came through in this but that's okay b/c it's just to get my thoughts out of my head lol #worldbuilding #my art #character art #brainstorming #fantasy worldbuilding #my post #worldbuilding project #fantasy pantheons #the mortifying ideal of being known (talking about a creative project online) #hopefully this makes sense and isn't too silly lol