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or-something-better · 11 months

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October 18, 2022

Sam’s Story Corner

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Share with us a Dream you’ve had (good or bad) that you still remember

Sam

‘Sam Winchester’s journal entry #27 October 18th, 2022’

Blood. It was everywhere… and usually that wasn’t a complaint of mine. It’s strange the thoughts you have when your mind is confronted with visions it just cannot comprehend. My shoes were an inch thick in it, all the walls were layered in red, and it dripped from above, splattering on me. I breathed its coppery scent deep into my lungs and beheld the morbid maze of bodies. They were scattered everywhere. Some entangled together. Some torn apart with only pieces remaining and there, displayed prominently in the very center of them all… was Dean.

I always jerk awake when I look into my brother’s lifeless green eyes. I think my unconscious mind is using that as a form of protection. I can’t even mentally fathom the hell storm THAT finality of loss would bring down on me. It would be the equivalent of an apocalypse.

For several days now, I’ve woken with that gory scene embedded in the deep recesses of my mind, but THAT wasn’t really the issue I was having so much trouble with. Normally I’m pretty accustomed to having all things-that-go-bump-in-the-night playing out as twisted thoughts on the inside of my skull. Nights, ever since childhood, have often been merely a replayed “B” roll of daytime horrors. No, the real problem is how this all FEELS. I no longer feel like I have any answers or any real tangible information to keep the vision from discovering its own reality. Failure nags at me like it’s the only viable option.

I sit up drenched head to toe in sweat, my long hair clinging to my face and that pisses me off even more. Grumbling, I get into a fight with my bed sheets as I’m trying to get out of them and finally just rip them to shreds, letting the tattered pieces fall where they may. If only that had been whoever/whatever was responsible for the dream and not just material, I thought. Now that I would have enjoyed waking up to. Instead, here I was, wrapped up in my own head and feeling like a breakdown was on the horizon.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

I make my way into the bathroom and turn on the hot water with my head still feeling foggy. Stepping under the shower spray, my eyes close while the warmth beats down against my flesh and I rest my forehead on the smooth tile wall. There was just no way to shut my mind off, the remnants of the nightmare were still wreaking havoc on me. Was it a psychic vision? For the first time I wasn’t sure. It felt off. I felt off. Am I finally losing my mind?

I stayed in the shower so long that my skin was vivid red and pulsating from the heat. Finally stepping out, I shook the excess water from my hair and wrapped a towel down low around my waist. Wiping the steam off the mirror with my hand, I look into my own haunted eyes and quietly pray Don’t let today be the da_.

…………………………………………………………..

Patience

Ahh dreams do they tell a story!! I have had 2 one good and one really bad so bad that it scared so bad I woke up shaking and scared to death. I'll tell you about both. I'll start with the bad one. thinking back to that horrible dream when I got off work from waitress job I went home and laid down for a little bit, I remember it was so hot outside and dad the penny pincher that his wouldn't turn the air on.(at least it was hot to me). I go to my room and turn the fan on and lay down it wasn't long before I was asleep or was I. Before I knew it, it was so hot fire was everywhere I could see demons coming for me. Waking up crying and scared to death for me it was so real but what did it mean? Was it a sign of things to come, who knows I was just happy it wasn't really happening. Now my next one. I can't really tell much all I know is it was beautiful and I wanted to go back to sleep. I had always been taught that the white dove was a symbol of purity. one flew over Jesus as he was being baptized by John the Baptist. Any I was standing on a rooftop with some family and friends and the sky began to open millions of white doves flew all around us. remembering this dream, I feel peace and love and everything is going to fine. That's all it was, white doves, and when I woke up I felt such peace it was just so beautiful I really wanted to go back to sleep. Again was this a sign of things to come? With this one I certainly hope so.

……………………………………………….

Bela

What dream do I remember most...good or bad....? Well, I mean, I've had a few nightmares because of my past obviously but. The day Cass put me to sleep what happened in my mind was the worst and the best I guess.

As my mind wanders in this sleep state, I first see me as a child sitting in my room, watching my father step inside locking my door behind him, the fear overpowering me as I try to fight him off unable to, the pain running through my body, my body jerks in my sleep as the memories of what he's doing floods me...

Suddenly scene changes to a moment when I opened up to my mother about what was happening to me and her denying it and me being disciplined for lying even though I was telling the truth, the anger I felt towards her also becoming overbearing.

Another instance I see myself standing at the crossroad, hearing myself mumble the words as I light the bowl with its contents and the demon appearing in front of me. Our entire conversation vivid in my mind as I break down full of anger and hurt. The demon tells me he can make all that pain and hurt disappear and can ensure I won't have to endure any of the abuse ever again. I see myself agree to the deal, sealed with a kiss.

A week later, I am looking at both of my parents in a coffin being lowered into the ground, my face showing no emotion at all, with a bit of relief as the weight has been lifted off me, looking around at those around me. I see their sadness about their loss, I didn't understand... If only they knew what my parents really were. I felt betrayed so I walked away.

Scenery change again suddenly, my time had come up, my deal was over. I was searching for a way out. Crowley came to me with a proposal as I have become very skilled in stealing artifacts or creating fakes and then selling to make myself successful. He promised he could get me out of my contract he just needed me to do one task. Lilith wanted the colt and it was my job to get it... Long story short I came through the deed was done... I cashed in the lottery tickets I stole from Dean with a smile on my face, after turning the colt over to Crowley.

Then the moment I learned my contract was still valid because Lilith never received the colt. Once again I felt betrayed. Yes... I stole from the Winchesters. All to keep myself out of Hell... Yes at one point I took advantage of Bobby when he got me a good deal on the amulet in Flagstaff... Ok it was wrong... I don't deny it... But I was doing what I had to do for me.. nobody else gave a damn..

My body still moves around subconsciously as the memories in this dream continues in my mind, while I justify what I did because I didn't have anyone who gave a damn about me and hunters already hated me so in a way, I didn't care. Way in the back, there was this little tinge of remorse for double crossing the boys, Crowley, bobby... Seeing their faces still in this dream.... A sudden feeling of guilt suddenly floods this dream...

This feeling was completely new to me. Wishing I could just wake up... Other people's voices begin playing on a loop in my mind in this dream... your reputation leads to the lack of trust. You haven't earned or tried. You're a failure... You may as well be a demon... You're a thief and a con...

Not sure why all this is getting to me so hard in this dream. In some ways I want to build and honesty... Meg and ruby's words playing in my dream as well. In my mind, this dream, I now thinks Cass is a bigger ass than Gabe

My subconscious mind thinks about Cass and how he may be right... Yes I screwed up and no I don't deserve to be trusted but does anyone really? But they do still earn trust back and I want to be able to earn it too

Then this gnome's stupid face pops into mind and my hate for it grows as I hasn't helped in the slightest for me to earn that trust... My mind wanders for ways to get through this to be able to begin earning my trust with people.

In my mind I subconsciously apologized to Cass telling him he was right. He made me say it again. Which I did a long with taking the responsibility for my actions. That was interesting enough in itself .. do I feel bad still, of course .. will I still do what I do...for the right reasons...yes. will I steal from the team....No.

I also think subconsciously about Crowley. How he's been there even when nobody else was .. trusting before anyone else. There's something about him....I can't explain it. Others don't understand either to them it's weird.. not normal...a human liking a demon... I'm not really sure what it is yet between him and I. Not really. I can't even explain my own feelings nor do I even know for sure they are mutual... I kinda hope he thinks about me as much as I do him....

Suddenly I wake up again looking around.. realizing it was all a dream...nightmare mixed with good....

…………………………………….

Henry

When it comes to my dreams there random like really random. Like childish dreams to where you’re like why did we bother this guy. The most recent one I can remember is.

Cookie unicorns why I don’t know but anyways. I was riding on this cookie unicorn to the candy castle till these evil candy corn stop me because I was the hero . I fought them with a candy cane sword then I jump back on my ride. This is pretty much like candy land 2.0. The king is an Oreo Cookie with human features. I don’t remember much else since I was getting to the food part then my alarm woke me up.

…………………………………………

Crowley

I sit at my desk, eyes wandering over the ledger before me but not really processing the words in front of me. I pick up the glass of Craig beside me and feel my mind wander to the last time I had slept. It had been on my little vacation back to Scotland, when I’d been happy and relaxed.

I hadn’t realized I’d nodded off while reading and found myself carefully standing after getting the pups off me. I’d returned to hell only to find Lucifer waiting like usual, bouncing on his heels while sipping another Pumpkin Spice Latte. I prepared a witty remark only for him to raise his hand and gesture for me to follow him. I do, and we’re led to the throne room. I’m surprised to see Ruby, Sam at her side, and Meg there. The main doors open, and I also see Bela coming in with Henry, cookie in hand.

Looking back at Lucifer, I’m certain the confusion is clear on my face as the smug bastard just grins. My gaze follows him up the dais where I can see a draped sheet with no discernible shape. “Luci, what are you up to?” My tone is exasperated and based on his reaction, I grow more concerned. Usually he makes fun of me, calls me a stick in the mud. But the fact that the people who have become closest to me are all gathered here has me concerned.

Lucifer paces, grandstanding still and putting me on edge more. Eventually I can tell when he gets bored. With a dramatic sigh and a flourish the sheet is removed showing another throne. Arching a brow, he starts explaining that, while annoying to him I’m helpful. Even though I ruin his fun, I’ve made his life easier by doing all the boring parts of the job. That, begrudgingly, he’s come to consider me an equal. Just to be nice, he even invited the people that, for some unknown reason, almost like me. Oh, and Meg just showed up for the party.

Shocked, I feel myself smiling and walk over to pull Bela and Henry into a tight hug. I shake hands with Sam and find myself hugging Ruby. I awkwardly fist bump Meg like a weird sibling before ascending the dais and look up at the taller being. “Thank you…..Lucifer.” I smile and shake his hand before sitting down on the throne, feeling secure for the first time in my existence. Feeling fully appreciated. I feel a wetness on my cheek, expecting fiery tears only for sunlight to pierce through my gaze, the view swimming before my eyes and I’m met with the view of the highlands. I realize it was all a dream.

Sighing I finish my drink and pour another “Of course it was all a bloody dream. Lucifer will never think of me as more than an arrogant upstart. Ruby? Moose? Happy for me?” Snorting, I close the ledger and rub my eyes. “As if Meg would ever show up for something good happening to me?” Still, I smile the tiniest bit, believing if something good happened for me Henry and Bela probably would share in my joy. “Maybe it’s not ALL completely impossible.

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wp-blaze · 2 days

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What are the key features of great songs?

I’m in the midst of learning ‘Clair de Lune’ at the moment, and I’ve already gone past the ‘I love this music’ part. I don’t know about you, but when […]

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waitingformyfavoritesongs · 1 year

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8 fe bru ar y 2023 Wednesday 👰‍♀️11:55 am pdt

No one loves me. I don’t have friends. I guess I will go eat worms 🪱 11:56 am pdt

12:59 pmpdt the way they roasted me feels as if they are cooking 🧑‍🍳 me to death ☠️ I’m probably dead ☠️ on the inside. 1 pm

1:03 pmpdt I guess Nick won bcz he is a womanizer? Similar to Incubus. A man after incubus’ own heart ❤️. Nick was honest with his feelings to treat me like a whore, & since I was a kid I learned my feelings don’t matter 1:05 pmpdt right shoulder pain. All my life I felt cursed. Only now incubus wants to trick me into being friends? Similar to Nick trying to put on appearances!? Is that what it’s called? Even if you do the most horrible things it looks like incubus will forgive you if you do what you feel like doing bcz he controlled your feelings. He gives you those feelings bcz that’s what he wants you to do. Even if he put you through a weird relationship through possessing your family. Mother’s allowing weird men to rape. But bcz I ... incubus is yelling no! I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ why? He wants me to feel guilty for not following through w/things I feel & trying to be better to people than I feel like being? He is trying to make me think 🤔 I did something wrong about lying 🤥 about my feelings? Trying to remember what that was & evaluate it but my head is roasting & I feel pain digging into my skull 💀. 1:15 pmpdt 1:16 pmpdt at same time he wants to make me feel guilty about my aunt & cousin. I never punched my cousin. My aunt was strong 💪 once I guess & she laughed about some things. I wish I could have laughed about all my painful experiences but it was TOO PAINFUL 😖. 1:19 pmpdt above, the stuff I wrote about incubus is very dangerous. I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ every person, but sometimes it clearly looks like possession & then other times it’s harder/difficult to tell. 1:21 pmpdt I’m dying 😵 roasting. Some times I gave some people a hard time I guess. I could blame it on greed, or I can take a step back & remember my cousin hurt me & was desperate 4 healing & was a little harder on some people if they show the slightest signs 🪧 of trouble. 1:25 pmpdt

3:21 pmpdt I don’t like god I don’t trust god demon lord. 3:22 pmpdt upstairs neighbor thumped loudly. I am weird & maybe I am weird bcz of my brain 🧠 trauma? Or more curse? Or both? I wanted to straighten myself out please read previous posts I don’t feel like writing ✍️ over and over again. Unless I feel like confessing something new to add to previous topics. I had difficulty dealing with my feelings. And sometimes I did weird things & I thouroughly (3:30 pmpdt) regret a lot of things, big things & little things. I wish I dated around more instead of dating specific people, but my first real boyfriend was a really nice guy & im not sure if I could have found better. 3:28 pmpdt I guess I did him a disservice by hanging onto him for so long but I did hope feelings to return it grow into something good. 3:29 pmpdt but I was a problem & I had problems. 3:29 pmpdt

what does coo coo roo koo coo mean???? I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ enough of any language to know. When I watch anime sometimes I question translations 😹😿🙀 5:47 pmpdt

translation translation translation translation translation translation translation translation translation translation translation translation translation translation translation translation translation translation translation translation translation translation translation translation translation translation translation translation translation translation translation .... I got that from a movie 🎥 it’s a song 🎶 song 🎶 from 5 year engagement 5:50 pmpdt

Chan aka Chan ran Chan ranma 1/2 5:51 pmpdt

6:04 pm pdt incubus has been roasting my brain 🧠/skull. I really think I am not special to incubus for him to do this to my brain 🧠. Roasting = cooking 🧑‍🍳 = death ☠️ 6:06 pmpdt

10:01 pmpdt everytime I question him the incubus they burned my head. He’s using me. 10:03 pmpdt he’s a bad man.

10:48 pmpdt I’m questioning myself on another part that I too easily gave into to believing months ago. Also I was exhaling hot 🥵 air even though I didn’t feel anything hot 🥵 on the outside. I have never smoked a cigarette 🚬 in my life and I believe incubus is burning inside near the lungs 🫁 10:50 pmpdt after I thought 💭 this incubus started burning 🔥 me even more on the side I’m laying on & now he’s stabbing my pelvis/groin area. 10:52-3 pmpdt

10:56 pmpdt elbow = el bow 🙇 I bet it is easy 4 Nick & Scott to bow 🙇 to incubus bcz they have the same goals 🥅 🧐🤨🙄😵 10:58 pmpdt goals?: devirginze? Rape? Pimp prostitutes? Do easy work & live in luxury? Idk 🤷🏻‍♀️ what Nick is up to these days or how he’s doing. Scott’s living well it looks like probably bcz if his dad? In 2010 he told me he was “thinking about transferring to uc Berkeley.” I don’t think 🤔 he had a bachelor degree 📜 yet. He didn’t disclose much to me. 11:06 pmpdt he was working at a pizza 🍕 place & said he was manager. Now it says co-op. Don’t recall it being a co-op in 2010. I could b wrong 😑 though. He was still living w/ his parents, too. 11:09 pmpdt I think he started dating a high school 🏫 student 👩‍🎓 soon to be graduate 👩‍🎓 11:13 pmpdt incubus deleted some sentences & I had 2 hit “Done” to make it stop 🛑. He deleted that I believe they probably had an 8 year gap in age. 11:15 pmpdt

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 years

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Knight in Shining Red Armor | Dante + Child!Reader (DMC 4)

A/N: Hey so this is a rewrite of one of my first (and only) DMC fic from like...2016. This takes place post-DMC 4

You can read the og one on my DeviantArt! But if you're here for the new one then I hope ya'll enjoy!

Summary: Child!Reader was taken under Dante's wing after being saved from a demon invasion, but even years later he hesitates to tell them what he truly is, fearing they'll resent him for his demonic heritage.

............

"Hey, um..Dante?"

"What's up, kiddo?" The red-clad devil hunter asked, though he wasn't completely paying attention to you. Rather he was sitting at his desk, feet kicked up as he was flipping through a magazine.

Meanwhile you were roaming around the shop, stopping only to gaze at the massive curved sword with glowing gems hanging on the wall behind him. He mentioned claiming many weapons--"Devil Arms" as they were called--from defeated demons, but you were curious about their names.

"Just wondering..what's that sword behind you called?"

"The Sparda. It sealed the barrier between the Underworld and human world. Nero went through hell and back, quite literally, to return it to me, so don't even think about touching......it?"

Dante put the magazine down as he turned to see you holding the Sparda in your small hands. You smiled triumphantly, but stumbled a bit before the blade accidentally slammed into the wooden floor, making you wince.

"Oops."

Yet your little act amused him, as he chuckled and shook his head. "You're a little too young to go devil-hunting, I'm afraid. But maybe one day you will."

"And maybe you can help pay off Dante's debt, too." Trish lightly joked as she entered the room, taking the giant sword from you and putting it back on the wall.

Her words were responded by a groan from the male, who went back to reading.

"Whatcha reading?"

Dante slowly lowered the magazine to see you sitting on his desk, but he just snapped it shut and tossed it into the trash, out of your line of sight. "Nothing that eyes like yours gotta see."

"Okay....ooooooh, what's this briefcase?" Hopping off the desk, you ran over to Pandora and crouched down to poke the skull emblem.

"Pandora. That baby can turn into six hundred and sixty six different weapons, but...right now we only have access to seven." Now he was feeling like an exhausted teacher on a museum trip, trying to explain each exhibit to his hyper first graders--the exhibits being his Devil Arms.

Yet as you ran around asking him about more of them, he couldn't help but see his childhood-self reflected in you. Just full of energy and never-ending curiosity and optimism.

Yeah..he definitely saw the resemblance.

Eventually you decided to leave him be and dash off to your room.

And only then did Dante drop his smile, sighing as he put both feet back on the ground. He ran a hand through his hair before dragging it down the side of his face tiredly.

"You know..you'll have to tell them eventually." Trish reminded.

"How, though? That kid's afraid of all demons..hybrids or not. I'm pretty sure saying "oh by the way the guy who rescued you is actually half-demon" is gonna send 'em running, and...I can't risk that." He shook his head, gazing at the jukebox in the corner.

"But I think [y/n]'s old enough to comprehend the concept of not all demons being evil," Lady chimed in after overhearing the conversation. "Just give it to them straight and I'm sure they'll understand."

As much as Dante wanted to argue, he saw that she had a valid point. But he still worried...

How would you react?

It's been a few years since he saved you from a Mega Scarecrow, though it turned out that more demons invaded your neighborhood, slaughtering everyone you knew and loved. And as he took you back to the shop to patch you up, he could see the terror in your eyes, any traces of innocence long gone.

No child should have gone through such a tragedy.

A tragedy that he was all-too familiar with.

After the defeat of the Savior, things have been looking up. You've regained your happiness as you lived in Devil May Cry and learned of Dante's tales of devil hunting, though the memories of that horrible night never truly left you alone.

Along with that, just seeing a demon is enough to make you run and hide, and you were terrified when you first met Nero and saw his demonic arm.

From that incident alone, Dante became extremely reluctant to tell you of his own demonic heritage.

He just didn't know if he's only hurting you more by keeping it hidden..

...............

Later that night, you were plagued by yet another nightmare. Different demons, same neighborhood...same deaths of your loved ones.

But in this one Dante got hurt, too. And you tried so hard to be brave for him, even shouting in the demon's face...but in the end you failed as it snatched you away, dragging you into the darkness of the Underworld before he could reach you.

Although you calmed down since awakening, you wanted to be sure he was alright.

So with what little moonlight shone in the shop's darkness, you located the worn sofa where Dante laid. He was engrossed in some TV program, though after sensing your presence his eyes flickered to you.

No words had to be exchanged in order for him to see what was wrong, as he sat up and patted the spot beside him. You smiled in relief and climbed onto the sofa, snuggling into his side as he wrapped an arm around you. "Th-Thanks, Dante."

"No prob. So uh..another nightmare, I guess?"

"Yeah, but..they hurt you, too and...I-I tried staying brave. I shouted at them to leave you alone and..they didn't listen. But...I think one of them looked scared of me."

"Wow." He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Gotta say I'm impressed."

"Really?"

"Absolutely. Y'know demons are used to seeing kids scream and cry, not take a stand against them. Plus that's pretty epic of you to defend me, so thanks." With a smile, he ruffled your hair.

"You're welcome," you giggled a bit. "But..I really just wanna be as brave as you. I mean...Nero says you laugh at giant demons and tease them all the time. How do you do that without being scared?"

"Well..it comes with the business. Getting them riled up just makes the fight more fun. At least for me. You might think I'm crazy but if ya decide to hunt demons one day...you'll see what I mean."

"But until then, could I watch you fight one? Like a big bad one?"

"......."

"Dante?"

"..kid, there's a reason I never took you on any missions." Dante sighed, swallowing back the growing lump in his throat as he carefully planned his next words. "And how I always...bounce back from getting smacked by a demon tail. No human would be able to withstand that without some broken bones."

"Oh?" You tilted your head. "Then..how can you if you're human?"

"....because I'm not fully human."

As much as he wanted to shut up, he decided to tell you the truth once and for all, not sugarcoating anything:

He explained how his parents were a demon and human--a forbidden romance which resulted in himself and Virgil being born. His bloodline allowed them to blend in with humans, exercise their demonic abilities in battle, and even tap into their true demon forms.

All the while you listened silently, with not much emotion on your face. So it was hard for him to tell what you were probably thinking in this moment.

It scared him.

"...and that's it." He sighed, closing his eyes and looking away from you. "So go ahead and hate me if you want. I won't blame you for-"

"Can you show me?"

Dante blinked stupidly as he swung his head back towards you, wondering if he heard you right.

"I...wish you told me before, but I don't wanna be scared of demons anymore." You smiled a tiny bit as you elaborated. "Especially not one who helped me. So...can I see your other form?"

"...a-alright. Just...if you get scared I can turn back instantly, so don't freak."

"I won't."

He had doubts you'll keep your word, but he got up and activated his Devil Trigger form. As he opened his eyes, you gasped upon seeing how much they were glowing--being orange rather than blue. Red electric sparks danced around his metallic body as he observed you close, anticipating your reaction. He expected you to scream or cry.

Yet..there was only curiosity and wonder in your eyes.

"Scared yet?" He asked in his distorted voice, crouching down in front of you.

Not even the way he spoke startled you, as you just shook your head. "I was wrong all along..not all demons are bad."

"Not even this one?"

"Nope. You look awesome..like a knight in shiny red armor."

"...wow..I um...." For once, the talkative devil hunter was at loss for words. But when you learned forward to hug him around the neck, he was completely shocked.

Earlier in the day he thought of countless worse-case scenarios, and yet...the best-case was happening right now.

You were accepting him, hugging him even.

He couldn't believe it.

Dante smiled as he wrapped his arms around you, making sure his armor spikes didn't hurt you. "Thanks, kid. It really means a lot that you're not terrified anymore........[y/n]?" He was concerned about your lack of response, before realizing you were dozing off.

'Damn..I might make a pretty good dad, after all..' He mused, standing up and making the trek back to your bedroom. Then he set you down and tucked you in, relief and warmth in his heart.

He had a feeling that your nightmares won't be so bad anymore. Now he felt like he could truly protect you.

Why?

Because he was gonna be your knight in shining red armor.

"Jeez, man. Quit clanking around shit and---AH!!! WHAT THE FUCK?!!"

"Shhhh! Chill out, Nero. You'll wake 'em." Dante was quick to shift back to his human form once he was outside your room, glaring at his nephew. "Why are you so freaked out? This ain't the first time you've seen my devil form."

"But still..why in the middle of the night?! Thought we had company."

"...just go back to bed, kid."

"Don't call me kid!"

#devil may cry x reader #dmc x reader #dmc 4 x reader #child reader #dante x reader #dmc dante x reader

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demonslayedher · 3 years

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How Does Eating Humans Work?

Hello, Gotou here. We’re shamelessly borrowing from the format of a KnY Fanbook #2 comic to launch an investigation into demon metabolism and development by crossing the Sanzu River again to interview demons in the underworld. While we’ll be using canon materials as a base, the analysis and conjecture herein is personal, so we ask for your understanding. Also, please note that consuming any food in the underworld will make you unable to return, and we cannot promise your safety even though the interview subjects are dead, so please come along at your own risk.

Some of the questions we’d like to answer are, why do demons need to eat humans? How much do they need to eat to survive? Are there factors that influence how eating humans makes them stronger? If they don’t want to kill humans, what are their other options? We’ve rounded up some special guests below the cut (hidden for length and grossness), everyone from the lowly Temple Demon to the lovely Tamayo, to see what their actions in canon might tell us.

First, a review of what canon tells us, mostly as summarized in Fanbook #2: 1. With one exception named Yushirou, all demons were created by Kibutsuji Muzan, for his own purposes. They all have some amount of his blood, and can be divided into four classes depending on how powerful they are. From top to bottom, the Upper Moons, the Lower Moons, demons with special abilities, and other demons without any special characteristics. 2. Demons may be stronger depending on how much of Kibutsuji Muzan’s blood they have. Most beings’ cannot handle a large amount of his blood, and it will rupture the cells and that being will die, but there are demons who adapt well to it. 3. Typically, sunlight is the only way to kill a demon, by either bathing them in sunlight or cutting of their head with a Nichirin blade. However, there are powerful demons for whom chopping off their head does not work, and if it’s strong enough, demons can also be killed by wisteria poison.

4. Demons eat human blood and flesh. The more they eat, the stronger they become, and the faster their regenerative abilities become. Some humans have “Marechi,” a rare blood type, which is especially nutritious to demons, and eating one Marechi is the equivalent of eating several humans.

That’s an interesting thing we’d like to come back to, especially since we’re looking for quantitative information about how demons gain nutrition (though I have my doubts we'll get enough for statistical analysis). As an interesting note, Fanbook #2 also tells us that if demons try to consume the same edibles humans do, they’ll vomit it back up.

I’m told that Miss Tamayo drinks tea, though. That’ll be an interesting question for later. In my notes, it seems she’s also explained to Tanjirou back in Chapter 15 that demons will normally go berserk if they go a long time without consuming any blood or flesh. Berserk is one thing, but I wonder if they can starve to death? We’ll see if these canon clues will lead us to anything. We’ll begin now in an interview format. Hopefully this will go smoothly, but I’ve got a feeling it won’t. First up, we’ve the Temple Demon.

Temple: Who were you calling ‘lowly’ just now? Up there, above the cut?

Gotou: That was in a literal sense, not having Blood Techniques means you’re in the bottom common tier of demons.

Temple: Argh. Fine. What do you want to know?

Gotou: In Chapter 2, you were spotted with three human victims. However, it seems you left their bodies mostly intact and only ate small parts instead of consuming one full human at a time. Could you comment on this?

Temple: I’d have gotten to more later if that whelp with the strong legs didn’t interrupt me! Who’s got time to eat entire humans anyway? I went for the easy stuff first.

Gotou: I see. It appears you might had focused on key organs, like the heart and the liver. Would you say these are especially nutritionally dense?

Temple: I guess. If I’m going to eat humans, I’m going to start with what’s worth bothering to digest. Blood’s easier on the stomach, so that’s what I was busy with on the lady there.

Gotou: Then it takes effort to digest? Hmm. Let’s come back to this later. How many humans would you say you consumed, including these three?

Temple: Not a lot… I tried to get a variety so I could get stronger faster, but…

Gotou: I’ll put down a guess as ten or less. Let’s move on to someone who has a sharper memory for numbers. One of our longer-lived guests at Mt. Fujikasane for 47 years, the Hand Demon. While most of the demons on the mountain had only eaten two or three humans, you’ve eaten a whole 50 of the children who headed into the Final Selection, didn’t you?

Hand: Yes, that’s right. It was hard at first since I wasn’t very strong, and the demons usually all went crazy there eating each other, just like that one brat who got away in Chapter 7 said. If you could manage to kill any of the kids, you had the other demons to fight off to even get a piece to yourself. That was enough to get me by, and stronger, little by little. Your body learns to make your meals last, and make the most of what you can get. I usually only had a bite of one child a year, can you imagine how horrible that was? Most demons who survive usually figure out some way to develop and survive better, and once my cells found something that worked for me, I kept doing it. I got really good at snatching away prey from other demons, and soon enough I was a bigger threat than any of them. None of them could, you might say, lay a hand on me.

Gotou: That’s an interesting point about self-development. A demon named Nezuko was spent two years doing that in her sleep.

Hand: She must have had a big meal before that!

Gotou: Well, anyway. It seems that in near starving conditions, your metabolism made the most of what you had, leading to the most efficient use of whatever food was available to you.

Hand: That’s right, I got really good at it. Wasn’t always pretty, but I made it work. I got to a point where I could go two years without eating and still keep my wits about me while the other demons were going mad. But I chose to eat. I liked to keep my appetite for specific children.

Gotou: That smile is not reassuring. Some humans taste better than others, I guess?

Hand: That’s for sure. This one kid tasted awful, like rust and man sweat! I still don’t have that disgusting taste out of my mouth! But he was one of my more satisfying meals, so I ate more of him.

Gotou: Then why would you… nevermind, I don’t like that smile, no further questions. While I had hoped to keep these interviews focused on quantities of humans consumed, it does seem personal taste is worth asking about. I had tried to invite a Swamp Demon from Chapter 11, but it kept arguing with itself and it felt like I’d be wasting my time. The one definite thing I learned was that this demon is picky, with a distinct preference for 16-year-old girls. Based on the number of trinkets he kept, it seems he had consumed at least seventeen of them, including several in one town. Sheesh, that’s sort of a rough mission to send a first-timer on. I’ve got a more cooperative guest here to discuss her tastes, a Snake Demon who, according to Chapter 188, has a special taste for baby flesh.

Snake: Thank you for having me here. It’s good to be appreciated again.

Gotou: Did you only eat babies?

Snake: Goodness, no. Babies are delicious, but they aren’t very nutritious. And their skulls certainly aren’t that big, the ones I lounged around with were from the people whom I killed and stole from. But you know the nice thing about baby skulls? They’re still soft. They take a long time to digest, but I can swallow them whole.

Gotou: Like… like a snake, then. Sorry, I’m a little ill hearing that. Let’s back up, were all those skulls the remains of adults you ate, then?

Snake: Meh, I ate some of them of better-looking ones, but most of them I only killed. I could usually kill a lot more at a time than I could bother eating, my killing record was fifty women all at once.

Gotou: And you didn’t find that wasteful?

Snake: Wasteful? Not at all. I wasn’t exactly in dire straits, I lived a more luxurious life than most demons do. That meant I could afford to wait for a truly delicious meal, like how you humans might leave something in a slow-cooker to enjoy the perfect combination of doneness and tenderness, plated in the most appetizing of ways.

Gotou: I guess demons and humans are similar in that regard.

Snake: I’m so glad you can relate! Then you understand the frustration of a meal you’ve be preparing for years opening up the slow-cooker and running away right when they were just about done.

Gotou: I have never had that experience.

Snake: I’ll get you, my pretty. And your little snake, too.

Gotou: I think we might have gotten a little off-topic here. It does seem digesting humans comes with some difficulty. I’d like to invite the Drum Demon in next. Your name is Kyougai, I hear?

Kyougai: !!

Gotou: Kyogai, right?

Kyougai: You’ve heard of me! You know my name!

Gotou: I happened to, yes.

Kyougai: What have you heard???

Gotou: That you were kicked out of the Lower Moons for being unable to consume enough humans.

Kyougai: Oh. ……..yeah, that’s me.

Gotou: I thought demons go berserk if they go a long time without consuming humans. Wouldn’t that make an inability to consume them problematic?

Kyougai: It wasn’t that I couldn’t eat them! Like I said in Chapter 24, I had to in order to sustain myself, just like any other demon. But, at some point, I couldn’t eat as much as I used to. That happens to humans too, doesn’t it? When you just can’t stomach anymore?

Gotou: You mean like when you’ve overeaten? In a human’s case that feeling may go away within a few hours.

Kyougai: Sort of like that, but you know, humans reach a time when nothing is appetizing or the thought of eating makes them feel sick, right? Isn’t that the human condition?

Gotou: …uh… maybe if they have a medical condition? Or anxiety? Do demons get anxiety? Or eating disorders?

Kyougai: I… I don’t know. I just wasn’t good enough.

Gotou: I think it’s plenty good if you stopped eating humans. Though to have developed Blood Techniques and been a Lower Moon in the first place, you must had eaten a great number of them.

Kyougai: You think I’m great?

Gotou: What?

Kyougai: No, sorry, I was getting ahead of myself. It’s true, I used to be able to eat as many as the other Lower Moons always consumed. Our stomachs were stronger, you might say. Demons got strong by eating humans, and then the more you did that the better you usually got at it, so the strong ones would eat more and more and keep getting stronger and stronger. At least, that’s how it usually worked. I’ve seen other demons below me reached that point too, where they feel the drive to eat, but then they have trouble digesting it for a long time, so they don’t wind up eating that many people.

Gotou: Then it would make sense to eat the most nutritionally dense parts first.

Kyougai: Or a Marechi.

Gotou: Yes, or a Marechi.

Kyougai: It was a great idea, wasn’t it?

Gotou: I cannot condone any consumption of humans as a good idea.

Kyougai: I knew it. I’m nothing. Go ahead, stomp all over everything I ever tried to accomplish.

Gotou: I think I’m going to move on to my next interviewee now. It looks like we’ve got… oh, would you look at this? Lower Moon One. Enmu, I believe.

Enmu: You can believe whatever you want. I’m happy to help.

Gotou: I don’t need any help, thanks. I’m curious, since you were one of the stronger demons out there, it seems you had a stronger capacity for consuming humans.

Enmu: I did, I was always careful and paced myself so the Demon Slayers wouldn’t notice me. I took my time. I liked to enjoy e-e-e-a-c-h one.

Gotou: Then you had tastes too? Like babies, or 16-year-old girls?

Enmu: I could season any human to my liking. They’re all very easy to prepare.

Gotou: I’m still trying to get quantitative data. Can you tell me at least a rough estimate of how many humans you consumed?

Enmu: I told this more precisely to that boy with the earrings back in Chapter 59, and I can tell you this too. At my best, I could had eaten over two-hundred people at once if I took my time.

Gotou: OH MY GAW----sorry, I dropped my pen. Two hundred, at once?

Enmu: Yes. If I had just. Had. A little. More. Time.

Gotou: Clearly there is a huge difference between what common demons are capable of and what the Twelve Moons are capable of.

Daki: Psh, those were all any random common people. That’s nothing to brag about.

Gotou: Excuse me, and you are?

Daki: Daki, Upper Moon Six. You want something really impressive, you talk to the Upper Moons.

Gotou: I’m sorry, I don’t see you on my list.

Daki: What! Your list is stupid. Look me in the eyes, I’m Upper Moon Six!

Gotou: Very well, then. What can you tell me about your diet, Miss Upper Moon Six?

Daki: That’s more like it. It’s true that digestion takes a while, and takes some effort. Even though we Upper Moons may have eaten hundreds of people in our lifetimes, it’s not as if we gorge ourselves. The clever ones among us save prey for later to eat when we feel ready for it.

Gotou: Food storage? How do you keep them fresh?

Daki: You leave them still alive, numbskull. Nobody wants to eat something cold, that’s gross.

Gotou: I see, so that’s why demons prefer to go after new kills instead of saving what they’ve already managed to kill. That also might explain why the demons on Mt. Fujikasane wouldn’t had eaten many humans, if they found long dead ones in edible.

Daki: You want to know the real secret to eating humans? You can eat what you find tastes good, sure. But to get stronger, you eat strong people. Like your Corp members, the ones besides chumps like you? Using all that Breath makes their muscles really lean and potent, it’s like they come offering themselves as protein bars for us.

Gotou: You make them sound like a fad diet…

Daki: The real secret is eating Pillars. Besides Marechi, they’re the strongest meals out there. Guess how many I’ve eaten?

Gotou: I don’t have the data to make an educated guess.

Daki: Then get educated! Look back at Chapter 88! I’ve eaten seven Pillars, and my brother has eaten fifteen!

Gotou: Your brother? Who is he, then, Upper Moon Five?

Daki: What? Ew. Gross. Gross! No way, ew!

Gotou: Hmm… eating Pillars, huh? Well, I can think of one Pillar who was…

Douma: Me too!

Gotou: Speak of the devil.

Douma: Actually, we Upper Moons can! And he's not Satan, that's not how this works. But I guess Muzan-sama’s curse doesn’t effect us now. Ask me anything you want!

Gotou: That Chapter 143 reference was such a rude entrance. I understand that Pillars are particularly nutritious—

Douma: Oh, please don’t misunderstand! I don’t even eat all the Pillars I’ve encountered. There was the one Flower Pillar who got away from me, but some of the boy pillars I just leave around. What’s really the key to consistent nutritional intake is women! It’s really unhealthy for a demon not to get enough women in their diet, that’s why even if you’re only looking for Marechi or Pillars, your metabolism is going to get thrown out of whack with sudden big meals. You grow a stronger metabolism with consistency, I believe!

Gotou: If I could stop you there, I had an image from Chapter 142 I preferred to focus on for this case study. I see you keep a wide collection of skulls, from victims whom I assume you ate.

Douma: Yes, they all stayed together inside me for eternity, but the room looked lonely without décor.

Gotou: It seems other demons usually go for nutritionally dense organs like hearts or livers, or easy to digest parts of the body, perhaps just blood sometimes. Eating the entire victim, bones and all, doesn’t seem to be the norm.

Douma: Bones are organs too, you know! That’s where blood is made, at its freshest. They do take more practice in learning to digest, and I had to find a way around not having to chew them, but the bone marrow is very, very good for you, so I make sure to consume it frequently. It may take more time and it causes some of my followers to panic more while they wait, though, that’s a bit of a downside. Oh, and I guess bones can make good storage for some sneaky poison. Even fingernails and hair follicles, who’d have thought?

Gotou: I don’t think hair would have much nutritional value in the first place. In all my years, I can never recall seeing a victim with their hair eaten.

Douma: Tsk, tsk! Clearly you haven’t done much metabolism research in advance. I was really impressed by how well Shinobu-chan understood how my digestion would work. Eating hair can do amazing things! Isn’t that right, Genya-kun?

Genya: ?????????

Gotou: Genya-kun!?

Genya: What am I doing here?

Gotou: I don’t think you’re supposed to be here. Isn’t there, you know, another side? The other direction?

Genya: What are you doing here? Did you die?

Gotou: I’m here doing research on demon metabolism and how they get stronger by consuming flesh.

Douma: What can you tell us about what up with having your friend feed you hair you found on the floor in Chapters 170-171, Genya-kun?

Genya: I’m not a demon!! Why the hell are you asking me?

Douma: ‘Hell’! Haha, good one!

Gotou: How do you even know about that? You were dead almost a full volume before that. And Genya’s different, he’s not a case study in how demons consuming humans works!

Douma: Are you certain?

Gotou: I hear the term get thrown around a lot that he’s ‘half-demon’, but—

Genya: I’m not a demon!!!

Gotou: --how would that even work? That would imply that one of his parents had to be a demon, and that—

Genya: What did you say about my mother!?!

Gotou: What? Nothing—

Genya: You say that to my face! You just trying saying something about my mother to my face! My mother never actually ate any flesh, you got that? She doesn’t deserve any of this!

Gotou: Genya, calm down, what—

Douma: I see we’re learning nothing about hair at all. Maybe Kokushibou-dono would provide better commentary on that?

Genya: Mom? Mo-o-o-o-m? Are you down here somewhere?

Gotou: And there he goes… wait, did you say Kokushibou? Upper Moon One? Oh no—he—he didn’t want me bothering him, he did not agree to another interview—

Douma: He-e-e-e-e-y, Kokushibou-dono! How did that work with Genya-kun eating your hair? Hair can be nutritious, right?

Kokushibou: You would gain… nothing… from consuming human hair… it’s not… flesh… you wasted your energy digesting it…

Douma: Aww, cutting it off them would had been sad, though.

Kokushibou: Demon hair… like demon weapons… is made… from our unique cells. It’s not dead… like human locks. Because that boy ate my live cells… it affected him…

Gotou: Yes, because he had a very, very unique metabolism, analyzed separately in this post. To be perfectly clear, Genya is completely human with cells that could temporarily transform, and he never consumed human flesh.

Kokushibou: He… vexes me…

Gotou: Um… while I’ve got you here, you’re one of the longest lived demons, clocking in at over three, maybe four centuries. Do you have any estimate of how many humans you’ve consumed?

Kokushibou: ……I see in… Chapter 100… that you are 23 years old?

Gotou: That is correct.

Kokushibou: Do you bother… remembering how many meals… you’ve had in a mere 23 years?

Gotou: I’m very sorry to have bothered you.

Douma: Kokushibou-dono’s ancient compared to the rest of us! But if I tried, I could probably recall. Let’s see. One, two, three, four…

Gotou: Is that? Your finger in your brain? Oh—ohhh—that is disgusting---I really don’t need to know numbers that badly, please stop. Is there maybe just some average you can give me for the Upper Moons instead? Like how many you’d eat in a month?

Douma: I wish I could, but a certain someone was an annoying outlier and didn’t like to eat so many humans. He made me worry all the time about his health.

Gotou: Really? Who might that be?

Douma: Hello-o-o-o-o-? Akaza-dono? Yoohoo! He spends all his time with his wife now and never answers when I call, it makes me so sad. Akaza-dono did eat humans, plenty of strong ones, but any time he wasn’t under orders from Muzan he liked to spend his time training instead of eating. Fanbook #1 says he did that way more than eating!

Gotou: Training? What sort of training?

Douma: Similar things to what your Corp members did, I imagine. Doing squats, throwing punches, things like that.

Gotou: Then demon muscles had similar function to human muscles, and could be strengthened through hard work? That’s surprising.

Douma: I know, right? I’ll let you in on a secret, I don’t think it was the physically repetition that did anything. I think it was his willpower getting honed and shaping his muscles.

Douma: I had to focus when I acquired new skills too, like breaking down poisons. A lot of sad, lowly demons, like that Hand Demon fellow? They focus as hard as they can in their desperation, or focus on some strong emotion or attachment or whatever, and they grow and develop because of it. Sometimes all their weak bodies can manage is an ugly mutation, but that’s proof enough of how much focus they had.

Gotou: That sheds a lot of light on Nezuko, actually.

Douma: Shed “light” on Nezuko-chan, hahaha! Sunlight! You humans are all so witty!

Gotou: Speaking of willpower, I’ve got one more interview I need to get to down here. Of all the demons I have records of, only Nezuko went her whole time as a demon without consuming any human flesh, although she did go through moments of berserk cravings for it. It’s possible that other demons were killed before they could consume anything, but typically they will consume flesh as soon as possible, which is why its common for their family and close relations to be among the first ones killed. Tomioka-san even mentioned in Chapter 1 that these close relations are especially nutritious.

Gotou: A demon about as old as Kokushibou, if not older, is a special case of her own. She was one of the only demons we know of to have escaped Kibutsuji’s curse and acted in dependently of him, including having created a demon of her own after two hundred years of trying. Most notably to our purposes, she trained herself to subsist on small amounts of blood, after having survived on corpses and wild animals for a time, according to the extensive Taisho Secrets at the end of Volume 21.

Tamayo: I explained this in more detail to Tanjirou-san in Chapter 15, but I went on to purchase blood from poor people, and extracted it in ways that wouldn’t be harmful to them. The one demon I created, Yushirou, could subsist on even less. I gained enough self-control that I could treat injured humans without feeling tempted into a berserk state.

Gotou: I was just talking to Douma about willpower making demons capable of accomplishing new physical developments. Was that how you were able to gain this state? I heard you even enjoy a cup of tea now and then.

Tamayo: Yes, I’ve taken a liking to it. I’d offer you some if not for this, you know, being hell. It’s nothing like the hell I went through when first resisting consuming humans, though. My demon body refused to take anything but fresh human flesh at first, but in the hardest moments, I always remembered a kind demon hunter who said he believed in me and my desire to defeat Kibutsuji Muzan. I believe Nezuko may have summoned her strength to resist the call of her demon cells in a similar way; she knew she had her brother there to rely on. Once she mastered something as remarkable as resisting the need for human flesh, it gave her the freedom to prioritize other developments.

Gotou: You spent centuries researching demon cells, especially how demons may break down and metabolize poisons.

Tamayo: I had not studied the metabolism of poisons until working with Shinobu-san. The medicine we concocted for Kibutsuji was only possible thanks to her work, and I couldn’t had worked with many of those wisteria-based substances on my own. I feel I was only there to fill in the gaps of her brilliant understanding.

Gotou: You’re very humble. I would pass along my thanks and compliments to Shinobu-sama too, but I’m pretty sure she’s not down here. On that note, did Genya-kun go back home?

Tamayo: He did after a nice reunion with his mother just now, it was very sweet. Shizu-san and I get along well, after all, we both carry similar guilt.

Gotou: Wait, was his mother a demon? That means Wind-sama’s mother was too? Wait?? What??

Tamayo: The worst hell I went through, or that any demon has gone through, is to realize what you’ve eaten after the hunger-driven madness clears. Being similar to your own cells, they’re easy on a volatile new anatomy to break down and digest. That’s why many demons may have driven themselves to forget everything all over again, or to twist their personalities to justify the horror, saying that because they ate the hearts of their loved ones and because demon flesh can live forever, then they never truly killed them. The truth always remained untwisted for me, and to this day, it torments me more than anything in this underworld can try.

Gotou: …

Tamayo: You should wake up now, Gotou. You’ve been through a lot; the nightmares must be taxing on your health. Please remember to eat well.

#kny fandom theories and meta #too many characters to tag #I wrote this draft early last week and only this morning had time to edit it but it took foreeeevvvverrr on my slow computer #now off to work #eat well everybody #I'm off to work #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer

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call-me-aesthetic · 3 years

Text

If Twisted Wonderland was an American Public School

WARNING: There are some slight sensitive topics that are featured in here! Reader discretion is advised!

Part 2 can be found here

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts:

- That one preppy girl who takes all honors and AP classes 😑

- Wants everyone to know that he’s becoming a doctor one day for his strict parents or he’ll dishonor the family

- Reminds the teacher about homework, knowing well that he’ll get slander for it

- Complains about how he got a 90 on his test or a B on his report card, a try hard much?

- Wears a cardigan with thicc but cute glasses since he’s one of those people with can’t see shit on the board so he has to move to the front of the class

Ace Trappola:

- The SoundCloud rapper, that’s it

- “Wanna listen to my mixtape? It’s pretty fire, my guy.” 😩🔥

- You will not miss him BLASTING out some song on his Bluetooth speaker, that shit be echoing through the hallways

- Tells you to stop what you’re doing only for him to either sing horribly or do a backflip, thinking that he’s so cool

- Wears a Supreme jacket with AirPods and waves on his head

Deuce Spade:

- Assuming that he’s still a delinquent, he’s that kid with the most fucked up school record

- Not much of a bully but will still talk shit to your face without caring, might even throw stuff at you during a lesson and you would be the one getting in trouble instead of him 🗿

- If he ever gets mad, it would be overdramatic like kicking the desks, punching the lockers, or walking out of the classroom unannounced and everyone would look at each other wondering wtf happened

- Covers the entire desks with drawings of skulls and those “s” if you know what I mean

- Wears Champion hoodies, wants you to know that he’s broke and rich at the same time

Trey Clover:

- The guy that’s not really popular but everyone knows him since he’s in all their classes

- Most people might have a crush on him because he’s REALLY nice 😳👉👈

- Gives off “older brother” vibes based on the way he looks and acts, like offering you a ride home if you beg ask nicely

- Secretly bakes creme brulee but doesn’t want to mess with the flow so he sticks to the status quo

- Wears the school’s hoodie just because he thinks it looks good on him, and the fact that he doesn’t know what else to wear

Cater Diamond:

- Hot Cheetos girl 🥵

- Has a whole buffet of food in his backpack and will not hesitate to eat them during a lesson, no sharing either sorry

- Excuses himself to the bathroom or full on skips class just to film a Tiktok

- Has about 100 followers on Instagram Magicam and brags about how he’s famous

- Wears a Thrasher hoodie with large hoop earrings and his hair in a bun

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar:

- The kid who flunked their freshman year that also sort of vibes with new classmates

- Always gets mistaken as a teacher by people since he looks and sounds old

- Knows the lessons but still fails them anyways, didn’t really give a damn either 🙄

- Captain of every sports club you can think of, never actually plays but has a lot of knowledge on them

- Wears the school’s letterman from years ago since it used to be his brother’s and that he’s too lazy to buy a new one

Ruggie Bucchi:

- That one kid who NEVER has money for the book fair or any other school event

- Always has to ask his classmates for some cash

- If he somehow does, then he’s one of those kids who buys Diary of the Wimpy Kid or the World Record books

- If he’s feeling cheap, he’ll buy the “cool stuff” like the chocolate scented calculator or fruit snacks 😭

- Wears oversized hoodies and basketball shorts that are clearly hand-me-downs

Jack Howl:

- That one athletic kid who’s both scary good and competitive when it comes to school games like football or soccer

- Literally the best player on his team and without him, they’re trash as hell 💀

- Tries his absolute best to support his teammates without yelling at them for how dumb they are

- “KICK THE FUCKING BALL! DO YOUR LEGS EVEN WORK?!”

- Wears the school’s jersey just to show off his “school spirit”

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto:

- The kid who sell snacks for “charity” but everyone knows he’s keeping the money to himself

- If you don’t have cash or try to negotiate with him, the only thing he’ll do is raise the price up

- “What do you mean you don’t have ten bucks? I can see it in your pocket.”

- Just bring nothing with you, he’ll doing anything to steal your stuff 🤭

- Wears a collar shirt with a tie and khakis that have pockets to keep his glasses and money in

Jade Leech:

- The kid who puts on a goody two shoes facade but is actually a stoner

- Only does “safe” drugs like vape but occasionally smokes weed, mostly in the bathroom or behind the school 🌬

- Can play it off and hide the scent when he’s high, teachers never suspect anything from him

- No one really cares to stop him unless he gets caught or something idk

- Wears clothing that either makes him look like a businessman or a junky, there’s nothing in between

Floyd Leech:

- The kid that’s plays basketball or volleyball just because he’s hella tall, and is actually good at the sports but doesn’t put much effort into them

- Always stays behind after gym, even though the teacher tries to make him leave for his next class 😬

- “I swear after this one shot, I’ll go to class.” *He never made that shot*

- Will jump you no matter who or where you are, and will get angry if you step on his new shoes

- Wears the jersey of any famous team with the latest pair of Jordan sneakers

Scarabia

Kalim Al Asim:

- VSCO girl at best, don’t lie to me now 🤡

- The only words he knows are “And I oop– sksksk.” and “Save the turtles.”

- Walks during a track meet while everyone else is running and sweating hard, the teacher doesn’t care either

- Doesn’t really do anything in gym but talks to his classmates and stands near the water fountain to refill his Hydro flask

- Wears tie dye shirts with cute scrunchies

Jamil Viper:

- That one quiet kid who everybody thinks is a serial killer but he’s actually not, I swear

- He just wants school to be over and spend the rest of his summer relaxing 😔

- Although he shouldn’t abuse his “power,” he‘ll move his hands in his pockets or backpack to make it look like he’s about to pull a weapon out.

- “Chill, I’m just grabbing a pencil.” *Everyone in the class started crying*

- Wears dark colored hoodies that intimidates people but are actually comfy

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit:

- The baddie popular girl 😌💅✨

- Arrives to school late with a Starbucks in hand from his local Target

- Fixes himself every 5 seconds like reapplying his lipgloss or spraying Bath and Body Works cherry blossom perfume

- Uses acrylic nails and long hair extensions as weapons during a cat fight

- Wears a crop top with ripped jeans and those clout sunglasses

Rook Hunt:

- That creepy guy in the hallways who tries to get your attention, even if you don’t know him

- Scares people when he says, “Ayo, where my hug at?” 🥶💯

- Uses at least 10 cans of Axe body spray a week after gym class, which stinks up the locker rooms

- Waves at you if he passes your class, even walking into the room just to say hi

- Wears literally anything but always include a hat

Epel Felmier:

- The artist girl who just wants to be alone 🧑‍🎨

- Purposely draws in front of you but pretends like you’re not looking

- If you complement him, he’ll just brush it off and proceeds to diss himself

- “Thanks but I’m not THAT good at drawing, teehee.” *Insert Radio Rebel face*

- Wears a hoodie or a cardigan with big pockets to put his art supplies in

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud:

- I don’t even need to tell you who he is, y’all already know ahaha 🥴

- Sneaks a whole PlayStation in his backpack so he can play with it during lunch

- Is on his phone 24/7 even in class to the point where teachers don’t care anymore

- Tries to get people into anime but only to little success

- Wears a shirt of any anime character or that damn ahegao hoodie, girl bye

Ortho Shroud:

- The nerdy kid who’s known for destroying others at many games

- Plays classics like D&D, Yugioh, Pokémon, the whole shabang

- Daily Beyblade battles during recess with everyone surrounding him, the menacing aura radiates off of him

- Will steal your things if you lose to him but gives it back a week later cuz he’s sweet 🥰

- Wears light up Sketchers shoes and those Minecraft shirts you find at Old Navy

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia:

- The theatre kid who also goes to band practice, change my mind 👁👄👁

- Takes his role seriously when it comes to school plays and concerts, even if he gets casted as a damn tree or doesn’t go solo

- Remembers the songs and their lyrics to any musical you name, a really good singer at that too

- Plays almost every instrument, you definitely know this since you can hear him down the hallways during a test

- Wears a white button up shirt, black pants with fancy dress shoes, and top it all off with a fricking Rolex watch

Lilia Vanrouge:

- The weird guy who pranks people and vandalizes school property in every way possible

- If you ever get a textbook with a message that tells you to go to a certain page only for you to found a picture of a dick, yeah that was him 😒

- When using a Chromebook, he’ll leave a tab open on YouTube so when the next person uses it, pray that your ears will still work by tomorrow

- During lunch, he is a literal DEMON that mixes milk with chicken nuggets together and having the audacity to eat it too

- Wears an oversized raincoat or a windbreaker but idk wtf kind of things he has hiding underneath

Silver:

- That guy in class who consumes Monster energy drinks and falls asleep 99% of the time but somehow manages to pass the class 🤷

- Whenever he’s awake, he’ll talk to the teachers since he’s basically friends with them for some reason

- Writes his name out of boredom on any desk you sit on but in different places, sometimes around the corners or the sides

- Has a sixth sense because he’ll wake up if you try to draw on his face and if you did get something on him, it’s on sight

- Wears those colorful hoodies that zips all the way up to cover his face with a matching backpack, it’s pretty cool ngl

Sebek Zigvolt:

- That kid who literally knows everything about historical wars and will show it off during class

- Also has knowledge on weaponry, which has people questioning him but he’s just very dedicated on serving his country and people

- Knows how to fight and defend himself from a bitch since he spent his summer at a military boot camp, put respect on my man’s name 😤

- Honestly a great partner for a group project, actually does the given work but not the whole thing for you

- Wears anything that has camo pattern and chunky combat boots

I only made this because me and my friends were talking about our school memories so yeah. This is based from my experience so they might not be exactly accurate. Might even be a part two if you want.

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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llamagoddessofficial · 3 years

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Okay for supernatural/demon lads and ghosthunting MC though.... imagine one of their haunted house sleepovers. The guys torn between scaring off the actual hauntings and *also* liking the way MC snuggles up close when spooky sounds and blips on her camera/sound equipment/etc happen.... Maybe a ouija board session at the witching hour where some narc ghost tries to warn her about three demons clinging to her >:Dc

WAAA omg. omg. omg this gave me an idea i had to-

“... The collapse of the roof in 1755 crushed 4 residents of the asylum.” You were deliberately using your spookiest voice, drained of all but the bare essentials of emotion to get the point across, flashlight in hand. “Since the accident they’ve cleared the damage and fixed the ceiling... but some say the spirits of those killed still wander the halls today, trapped not by rubble... but by the pain that binds their energy to this location.”

You were still amazed at how steadily Skull could hold a camera. Whenever you looked through footage, even the stuff taken when he was walking, it was as if you had it on a professional electronic rig... you honestly had no idea what you’d do without him. It was pretty damn cold in the building, as it was completely derelict and abandoned, with no windows to furnishings to retain heat- only the concrete foundations remained.

“Visitors to the site have reported tapping on the walls, footsteps, shadows in the corridors, and the smell of brick dus-”

At the sound of tapping very nearby on the old plaster asylum wall, you spun around in shock, shining your flashlight...

... On Red, who was grinning like a bastard, rapping his phalanges on the wall.

“... s’pretty sturdy for an old ass wall.” He purred, pulling an ‘innocent’ face and putting his hand back in his pocket.

“hearing creaks and smelling dust in an old building.” Sans said, with his usual unbothered smile, like all this was just a bad haunted house attraction. “shocking. must be ghosts.”

“Oh, sure, act smug now, you’ll be apologising later when I get paranormal activity on camera.” You mumbled, deliberately shining the light into his face for a moment. You removed your spirit box from your pocket, ignoring the little joking vampire-like hissing sound he made.

The spirit box was your prized possession, your favourite method of communicating with spirits. It was a small black device that somewhat resembled an old walkie talkie; its purpose was to rapidly cycle between radio stations, producing static noise that ghosts could communicate directly with you through. It sounded sharp and horrible and always made the ugliest jittering sound, but even just holding it in your hands made you feel more and more excited.

“... I’ve got a device in my hand.” You said, addressing the room, the building... this was the part you never got over. The part where you spoke directly into the darkness that somehow seemed both smoggy and veil-thin, the part where you could almost feel the unseen eyes in the area turn to you. A shiver ran up your spine... you were certain that if you weren’t flanked by the comforting presences of Sans, Red and Skull, you’d chicken out before you could capture any video. “It’s going to play static that’ll allow you to communicate with us. If you want to, please speak, tell us what happened here.”

“geez. i hate this thing...

... You turned it on. Sans pulled a face, but didn’t make any of his usual complaints, which you appreciated. You stood there, waiting, all four of you staring at the device in your hand... it usually took a little while for something to come through so you weren’t expecting-

“ - - D E M O - N S -”

It blurted out of the box, clear as day, the clearest voice you’d ever heard coming from the box with only a slight jitter from the skipping. It sounded like a man. You jumped, your chest and your eyes widening- “Oh my God... I- what did it say? Did you say demons?”

“- E M O N S - - - I - N - -”

Your hands were shaking- he repeated it. Your full attention was on the box now, your heart was starting to pound. “There are demons here? In the building?”

“- YES-”

It was the same voice, giving you clear replies! This was huge! You couldn’t believe it! You were holding the box like it was a winning lottery ticket, just about losing your mind. “What’s your name? Tell me your name.”

“- - PLE A S E -”

You didn’t see the expressions on the guys’ faces. You didn’t notice Red and Sans slip away into the dark, too exhilarated to be expecting their usual cutthroat humour and cynicism.

"Where are the demons? Are they in the building? Can you tell me where they are?”

Something came through the box, but it was too mangled by the static, too impossible to make out. “What did you say? Say that again!”

“- W - - TH -” It was like something was interfering with the transmission. “W I T H - Y O U.”

... What?

“... With me?”

“ T H E - S K E L E T - ”

... It turned off.

...

Everything turned off. Your fully charged torch went dead, Skull’s torch went dead, the camera's lights blinked out. Suddenly, all the noise in the world had vanished... it was so, so deafeningly quiet...

... and the only light was Skull’s blood red iris, staring at you.

...

“... All the stuff just...”

... You looked around the room, trying to see something in the murky darkness, as if searching the shadows for a reason for the sudden powercut to all your individual devices at once.

“... something wrong?” Skull asked.

His voice was incredibly gentle.

... It was as if a cloud descended over your mind. Suddenly, just like that, you felt like you’d been plunged into a dream. Nothing seemed... real. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t process... a horrible wave of dizziness accompanied the cloud, creeping over you, prickling at your temples and muddying everything that was going in and out of your brain.

“I-I...” You stopped being able to feel your hands or your death grip on the useless flashlight. The pitch black room was beginning to spin, slowly... “I don’t...”

“hm?”

“Where’s...” Your eyes were darting about. Pounding head, like it’d been stuffed full of cotton... your lips weighed too much, it was hard to speak. “Where... Sans... Red...?”

“... shh... it’s okay.”

A big hand softly closed over yours. You knew Skull had big hands, that was something you loved about him... but the one that held you was huge. Your tiny appendage was swallowed whole by thick bones with long, cruel claws... it felt like him, but it didn’t... feel like him...

... What’s going on? Where am I?

... The hand gently led you closer, easily moving you like you were little more than a confused child. His eyelight was in view... his huge, red eyelight... your own eyes were stinging, strained, wide and afraid. The other hand moved close to you but you didn’t even have the presence of mind to flinch as it gently brushed hair out of your face... you just stared up into the eyelight.

He had horns. Skull’s silhouette had huge, curved horns.

“it’s alright.” He murmured, cupping you like a precious baby bird. His voice had become distorted, warped... and even in your state of delirium, you were certain it wasn’t from the headache. “you’re with me. you can let go.”

The dizziness was becoming too much to bear. You couldn’t even focus on his iris anymore, you couldn’t see, you were either going to pass out or be sick. The distant sound of your flashlight hitting the floor... You pressed your eyes shut to relieve the aching, and tried to say something, but it was just a bleary mumble...

“that’s it.” He purred, the hand holding yours instead moving to your back to support your swaying body. You couldn’t open your eyes again... you didn’t want to. It felt so much nicer closed, the discomfort was muffled. “don’t need fight. none of this... ever happened.”

... You were vaguely aware of him catching your tipping body and scooping you up into his arms before everything went completely dark.

#llama writes #ghost hunter au #EEEEEE i just lov me some. big scary boys #yall already know this fact though #tw demonic influence #ig #if thats what its called #queue is gonna post this while i sleep so ig i can read it and see all the mistakes when i wake up

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k-s-morgan · 4 years

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The Evolution of Will Graham’s Darkness

This meta is mostly written for new viewers who find themselves confused by Will as a character. I’ll incorporate some bits of analysis I’ve written before into it. Let’s start with a thesis of a sort: Will is a dark character who had this darkness from the very start, even before his encounter with Hannibal: he was terrified and disgusted with it, but after meeting Hannibal, slowly, he began to embrace himself, getting bolder and bolder in his violence.

**Before the show**

Will initially tried to get into the FBI but he didn’t pass the tests. It’s revealed in E1 of S1 when he’s ambushed by Beverly.

Beverly: Never been an F.B.I. Agent?

Will: Strict screening procedures.

Beverly: Detects instability. You’re unstable?

At the same time, Will became a police officer, working in the Homicide department. These decisions show that he's been stubbornly and rather hopelessly drawn to darkness, seeking ways to interact with it while remaining on the side of law. However, he had to leave the police, too, because he was incapable of pulling the trigger even when his life depended on it. He preferred to allow himself to get stabbed rather than to fight back and kill someone, which points to him having very serious issues with his violence. He knew that once the door in him opens, it might not close again, that if he kills or harms another person, he might be unable to stop (this is proven when he shoots Hobbs and then immediately tries to kill Stammets).

And still, Will chooses to stay close to darkness, only in safer ways. He becomes a teacher in the FBI Academy, letting himself delve into the ugliest cases from a theoretical perspective. This constant pull and struggle leave Will lonely and hostile to everyone. He avoids eye contact with people; Jack’s first impression of him was that he’s rude and arrogant (when they clashed about the name of the museum). Will is rude and haughty with his students, too – but more about it later. Alana refuses to stay alone in the room with him, thinking his instability is too fascinating and she might want to dissect it. Will has no friends; he lives in isolation with his dogs, someone who would never judge him. There are a lot of rumors about him going around, and most people don’t like him (based on Price’s and Zeller’s initial reactions as well as their later conversations on this topic). Will is lonely and pretty miserable.

The first real words we hear from Will are:

Will: Everyone has thought about killing someone.

It is very demonstrative of his personality. We also get evidence right here that Will is drawn to darkness primarily, not to the idea of saving lives (although the latter helps him feel better about his urges). He delves into the minds of killers even when he isn’t involved in the investigation. He had no other reason to explore the Marlows’ murder like he did at the start of the episode, when he was simply teaching students. It’s proof that he willingly craves contact with violent and disturbed minds — it’s not like he actually tries to solve this case for real, he just imagined himself there.

Will’s first conversation with Hannibal speaks volumes about who he is — because Hannibal senses it seconds after meeting him.

Hannibal: Do you have trouble with taste?

Will: My thoughts are often not tasty.

Hannibal: Nor mine. No effective barriers.

Will: I make forts.

This exchange has Will confess that his thoughts are often dark and that he dislikes it. To hold this darkness at bay, he literally builds forts around it, not letting it spread to other parts of his mind.

Hannibal: Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams. No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love.

Hannibal almost directly calls Will out on his struggle with his inner darkness. He’s saying that he sees it, that he knows it’s there, in Will, in his mind, and Will is very disturbed by this — because Hannibal is right. The script even explicitly backs it up:

Hannibal has just described Will Graham to a letter.

Will is immediately wary and hostile, and he ends the conversation with snappy,

Will: Please don’t psychoanalyze me. You won’t like me when I’m psychoanalyzed.

What does it mean? It’s simple: Will assumes that Hannibal is a typical psychiatrist who wants to dissect him, so he says that once it happens, Hannibal won’t like what he finds (darkness and ugliness Will carries inside).

His hostility to Hannibal lasts up until the moment when Hannibal acknowledges him as a predator and shows approval of it. This is how it happens: Hannibal tries to subtly tell him that it’s all right to be who he is, hinting that they are the same.

Hannibal: You and I are just alike. Problem free. Nothing about us to feel horrible about.

He’s obviously talking about their darkness, but Will doesn’t react, so Hannibal continues. He tells him that Jack views him as a fragile tea cup, and Will genuinely laughs, amused by this (which is also very telling). Then Hannibal says:

Hannibal: [I see you as the] mongoose I want under the house when the snakes slither by.

Will grows quiet after this, and then his interactions with Hannibal become much more relaxed. Will takes him to search the property and even bothers to explain how they reached their conclusions and what they are about to do. Him grumbling, “What are you smiling at?” shows a much higher level of familiarity they now share. Something in Hannibal’s words made Will open up a bit, and everything indicates that it’s the acknowledgement of his predatory nature that played its part in it.

Will kills Hobbs by shooting him 10 times. This is his first kill, one he’s been trying to avoid for so long, ever since his police work. It’s not surprising that Hobbs haunts him later because his death became a breaking point for Will. A door did open in him, and he was unable to close it again.

In E2, Will is distraught. But first, we get a glimpse into how rude and insensitive he generally is. Look at how he treats his students. He tersely thanks them for clapping and then snaps for them to stop. He devises a little malicious test for them.

Will: It’s [Hobbs’] resignation letter. Anybody see the clue?

A few hands go into the air. Will ignores them.

Will: There isn’t one.

He looks so long-suffering with them, as if they are idiots. The fact that he asks a question, waits for people to think and raise their hands, and only then he tells them there is actually no answer is petty at best. He also admits to Jack that he doesn’t consider lessons socialization because he doesn’t have to actually talk to students, he talks at them. Not good for a teacher or even for a person who works with other people like this.

But Will has more serious problems. He keeps imagining Hobbs, and after his messy kill, Jack becomes worried about him. He makes Will go visit Hannibal for one-time evaluation. Will is naturally not fond of the idea, but he and Hannibal have a pretty personal talk. Hannibal ends it with an even more explicit hint at Will’s own darkness:

Hannibal: And Will… the mirrors in your mind can reflect the best of yourself, not the worst of someone else.

Hannibal is talking about Will’s personal brand of violence again. He’s trying to tell him that it’s fine to be a murderer in every way he can, that Will’s darkness might be the best part of him. He also gives him a fake official approval to work in the field, showing that Will can trust him. But their obligatory session ends and Will leaves — only to return after he tries to kill Stammets and misses (their talk about it was cut from the episode but is echoed in the conversation below).

Hannibal: [You are here to] prove that sprig of zest you feel is from saving Abigail, not killing her dad.

Will: I didn't feel a sprig of zest when I shot Eldon Stammets.

Hannibal: You didn't kill Eldon Stammets.

Will: I thought about it. I'm still not entirely sure that wasn't my intention when pulling the trigger.

This is a huge evidence of Will struggling with his violence. It proves that he had it before becoming actively involved with Hannibal — all Hannibal did was recognize it and coax it to come to the surface. Will has always been like this, and after finally killing a person, he found himself unable to stop because he liked the feeling too much.

Hannibal: It wasn't the act of killing Hobbs that got you down, was it? Did you really feel so bad because killing him felt so good?*

Will: I liked killing Hobbs.

Hannibal is pleased to receive the confirmation of what he sensed in Will. Seeing that Will is terrified about his own confession, he comforts him.

Hannibal: Killing must feel good to God, too. He does it all the time, and are we not created in his image?

Let’s be honest, every sane person would have run for the hills after hearing this. Hannibal literally justifies the fact that Will liked murder by drawing a parallel with God. That’s such a narcissistic, serial killer thing to do, and yet Will welcomes it with open arms. He’s happy to find someone who doesn’t think he’s a monster — he’s relieved to be able to finally discuss his darkest impulses freely. This is the reason why Will started coming back to see Hannibal on a constant basis, to Jack’s surprise.

The next huge proof of Will’s ever-present darkness is found in E5 (actually, every episode has some bits, but I’ll cover only the major ones). The Angel Maker, a killer-of-the-week, has a unique gift of being able to see if a person is good or evil. First, Hannibal tries to tell Will that he doesn’t have to self-destruct because of his darkness like he’s been doing.

Hannibal: Angel Maker will be destroyed by what’s happening inside his head. You don’t have to be.

When Angel Maker dies, Will suddenly sees himself through his eyes. And he sees a demon. He sees himself as evil. It proves that Will’s darkness is inherent since he hasn’t done anything really bad at this point. It also proves that he’s perfectly aware of who he is and the darkness he has. He has the following conversation with the imagined Angel Maker.

Angel Maker: I see what you are.

Will: What do you see?

Angel Maker: Inside. I can bring it out of you.

Will: Not all the way out.

So, Will acknowledges that his darkness is rooted so deeply inside him, it can’t even be extracted fully. It’s an inseparable part of him.

Will is shown admiring the Ripper’s murders, calling them elegant and referring to them as art. Meanwhile, he’s trying to half-heartedly flirt with Alana, but they don’t have a meaningful connection because Will can’t be happy with a person who doesn’t know him. He wants to be normal but he just isn’t. If you’re interested in my opinion about their relationship, it’s here.

Will’s next morally gray action happens when he agrees to cover murder for Hannibal and Abigail in E9. He agrees quickly and then he’s shown being fiercely devoted to it. He doesn’t seem to care that Abigail killed someone much — in fact, he basically threatens Freddie, another person who sees him for who he is, to make her write a book favorable toward Abigail.

In E13, Hannibal says what he wants from Will directly.

Hannibal: If you followed the urges you kept down for so long, cultivated them as the inspirations they are, you’d become someone other than yourself.

Will remembers this phrase (he later throws it back into Hannibal’s face), but for now, he’s too angry and bitter to listen.

Will is healthy again and he struggles with realization that Hannibal betrayed him. He starts a dark game of his own: he pretends he’s vulnerable, moving Alana to tears in the process, and asks Hannibal for help. He’s still drawn to him, but he also wants to take him down — for himself and for Abigail.

In E1, Hannibal tells Will the purpose of all their past meetings, how they were aimed at helping Will Become.

Hannibal: Our conversations, Will, were only ever about you opening your eyes to the truth of who you are.

Alana tries to hypnotize Will to help him remember what happened.

Alana: Imagine yourself in a safe and relaxing place... safe and secure here, safe to relax completely...

What does Will imagine? He sees Hannibal’s room and them sitting at the murder table together. He’s freaked out by it, but it proves how twisted his perception is: regardless of the betrayal, a part of him understands that Hannibal is the only person who’s ready to accept him, and he feels safe with him. @bloodsmile wrote a great meta about it here.

Will coldly manipulates Beverly, refusing to help her save lives unless she helps him as well. In E5, he engages in yet another manipulation. He gets Matthew Brown to try to kill Hannibal. This is the first premeditated murder attempt Will is responsible for. That is why we see him growing horns, that is why he sees a sink full of blood — his darkness starts progressing in noticeable ways. By E7, Will has figured out that Hannibal really did everything to open his eyes to the truth of who he is and that he wants to be his friend, but as he still wants revenge, he decides to honey-trap him with Jack.

In E8, Will is dealing with his complex feelings for Hannibal and explores his darkness further. He admits that Hannibal made him feel less alone and that he doesn’t hate him, no matter what; that he has no idea what he feels for him. Then Will tries to kill Ingram in cold blood as revenge for Peter. He asks him to pick up the hammer, indicating that he plans for the murder to look like self-defense. Hannibal tries to talk him out of it, but Will still pulls the trigger. It’s by a miraculous accident that Hannibal manages to stop him. This is the second conscious murder attempt by Will.

In E9, Will has a dream about Hannibal, love, and darkness.

Dream Hannibal: Must I denounce myself as a monster while you still refuse to see the one growing inside you?

Meaning: Will is fully aware of both the presence of this monster inside him and his attempts to ignore it since this is his dream.

Dream Hannibal: No one can be fully aware of another human being unless we love them. By that love we see potential in our beloved. Through that love we allow our beloved to see their potential. Expressing that love, our beloved's potential comes true.

So, a part of Will realizes that Hannibal loves him, and that he really wants him to Become, to realize all his potential.

Will is shown as feeling bitter at Hannibal for not letting him kill Ingram.

Will: I regret what I did in the stables.

Hannibal (thinking Will means murder attempt): Then you were lucky I was there.

Will: Being lucky isn't the same as making a mistake. Mistake was allowing you to stop me.

Hannibal: So it’s not pulling the trigger that you regret. It’s not pulling it effectively.

Will: That would be more accurate.

Hannibal: I want you to close your eyes, Will, and imagine a version of events you wouldn't have regretted.

Will obeys, and he sees himself murdering Ingram. It proves that every word he says to Hannibal is true — he really does regret not killing him. But there is an even creepier dialogue ahead.

Hannibal: What did you see?

Will: A missed opportunity… to feel like I felt when I killed Garret Jacob Hobbs. To feel like I felt when I thought I killed you … a quiet sense of power.

This is disturbing. It proves once again that Will isn’t just a righteous killer, he enjoys the act of murder itself, and like many serial killers, he craves the feeling of power that comes with it.

He and Hannibal talk about the intimacy of murder, how Will was hiding behind a gun when he tried to kill Hannibal back in E5. Will takes note of it. Hannibal, remembering Will’s complaint about a missed opportunity, sends Randall to him as a gift. When Randall breaks into Will’s house, Will is shown thinking and then deliberately throwing the gun away. He doesn’t want to hide this time — he attacks Randall with his bare hands. This isn’t about self-defense or justice, this is about Will trying to experience a more intimate kind of murder. He beats Randall up until he’s incapacitated and then he snaps his neck, even though there was no reason to do it. He could easily call Jack and have Randall arrested at this point (since he was barely conscious and not fighting back). This could help him in his plan to catch Hannibal. But Will isn’t particularly concerned about it, he’s more interested in realizing his darkness.

He takes the body to Hannibal. This moment got deleted, but Will actually had to stick a note to it:

A piece of paper is pinned to his chest. On it is written: "Return to Sender."

Which excellently shows Will’s dark humor. He laughs with Hannibal a little as they talk about murder right above the corpse. Then Hannibal is treating his hands, and he says:

Hannibal: Stay with me.

Will: Where else would I go?

Nowhere — because Will understands that Hannibal is the only person who can understand his darkness and accept him for who he is.

Will: I've never felt more alive than when I was killing him.

This is, once again, huge. Will is a murderer who can get dangerously high on the act. The moment when he felt most alive is the moment when he took a life from another person — and he was vicious about it. Will is very, very dark in these scenes — and it’s going to get worse.

Will mutilates the body and places it in the museum. He keeps Randall’s suit in his house as a trophy, and he keeps his butchered parts of meat in his fridge. In the following discussion, Will confirms that he enjoyed doing all that. When Hannibal suggests that Randall’s killer felt disdain for him in front of Jack, Will disagrees.

Will: He isn't mocking him. This isn't disdain. He's commemorating him.

Hannibal: This killer has no fear for the consequences of what he's done.

Will: No guilt.

Then Will retreats into his mind to talk to Randall’s corpse.

Will: Hello again.

Randall: Come closer … Can you see you?

Will: Clearer and clearer.

This proves Will’s honesty in all his discussions with Hannibal. He really is exploring his violence, not just pretending to do it, coming to the realization of what kind of monster he is.

Will: You forced me to kill you.

Randall: I didn't force you to enjoy it.

This takes place in Will’s head, so every word is genuine.

Will: I gave you what you want. This is who you are. What you feel finally matches the reality of what I see.

Randall: This is my becoming. And yours.

Will shakes his head, this is not his becoming.

Will: This is my design.

So, what do we have here? Will calls murder, mutilation, and storage of Randall’s meat his design. It’s not his Becoming, not yet, Will isn’t ready to fully embrace himself, but this is a start. He understands his design now.

In the same E10, Will attacks Freddie when she discovered his trophies. We know he didn’t kill her, but would he have done it if she hadn’t called Jack? We can only guess. Will sure took his chance to be creepy and physically violent with her. At the end of the episode, he brought Randall’s meat to Hannibal and they cooked as well as ate it together. This was not about getting Hannibal to trust him. Hannibal already did, especially after thinking Will killed Freddie, so there was simply no need for it. Bryan Fuller confirmed Jack had no idea this happened, so Will was acting on his own, out of his genuine curiosity. This is where he willingly became a cannibal.

In E11, Will dreams of burning fake Freddie and hears himself screaming. It’s easy to interpret this dream: he feels guilty for betraying Hannibal. Alana comes by and Will is being deliberately creepy again. He gives her a gun for protection, but later, it almost becomes her undoing. Will is equally creepy during the funeral. He enjoys being dark, and he feels free to act like this because technically, he has an excuse.

In E12, Will is freshly angry at Hannibal. He fantasizes about murdering Hannibal in the most violent way possible. Then he makes three deals. The first one is with Mason: they agree to kill Hannibal together. The second one is with Hannibal: they tentatively agree to target Mason together. The third one is with Jack: they agree that when Hannibal tries to kill Mason, Will is going to arrest him. Will goes with his and Mason’s plan at first. Hannibal is kidnapped and presented in front of Will just like in his fantasy. But instead of acting on it, Will chooses Hannibal and frees him, getting all Mason’s people killed in the process. Later, he watches Hannibal mutilate Mason, approach him to kill him, and snap his neck. He does nothing: he ignores his deal with Jack completely and covers for Hannibal. Yet another proof that Will is siding with Hannibal more and more, and that his initial honey-trapping plan is almost a formality at this point. At the end of the episode, Will offers Hannibal to kill Jack.

In E13, Hannibal and Will are getting ready to kill Jack while Will and Jack are getting ready to arrest Hannibal. Will doesn’t seem to know on whose side he is until the end. At the same time, he lies to Jack about where the attack is supposed to take place. He helps Hannibal burn all evidence, even though he could have easily preserved some of it to use it later. He burns the evidence related to himself as well. Will doesn’t take Hannibal’s chance to run away before dinner, but he does hesitate and wonder about it. When the final moment comes, he calls Hannibal to warn him — he chooses him above everyone. Justice for Abigail, justice for himself, the desire to save other people — none of it matters to Will now. He made his choice, he chose his side, but he did it too late. When he goes to Hannibal’s house, Alana tells him that Jack is still inside, and Will takes out his gun. He doesn’t even try to point it at Hannibal. When Hannibal accuses him of lying, Will implies that he’s wrong.

Hannibal: I gave you a rare gift… But you didn't want it.

Will isn't so definitive.

Will: Didn't I?

Because yes, Will wanted it. He was ready to accept it. But he did so too late.

Will’s thoughts are only about Hannibal and Abigail. He breaks into Hannibal’s empty house and sits there in silence. When Alana comes to find him and tries to talk to him, he coldly sends her away. He’s repairing a boat to go after Hannibal. When Jack comes to him to ask about his motivations, Will is very open — he doesn’t care about hiding any more.

Jack: Do you remember when you decided to call Hannibal?

Will: I wasn't decided when I called him. I just called him. I deliberated while the phone rang. I decided when I heard his voice.

Jack: You told him we knew.

Will: I told him to leave. Because I wanted him to run.

Jack: Why?

Will: Because he was my friend. And because I wanted to run away with him.

In Italy, Will is full of regret over his actions. He blames himself for what happened, admonishes himself for lying to Hannibal. E2 shows his state of mind perfectly – Hannibal is his everything and he admits he wants to be with him. He doesn’t care about justice at all.

Will: I do feel closer to Hannibal here. God only knows where I would be without him … He left [me] his broken heart. He misses [me]. [I] still want to go to him? Yes.

He admires the corpse twisted into a heart, touching it and then lying at the place where it was located. He intimidates Pazzi who tries to talk sense into him and indicates that he’s not here to catch Hannibal.

Will: You couldn't catch him when he was just a kid, what makes you think you're going to catch him now?

Pazzi: You.

A small, polite scoff from Will, unable to take his eyes off the small stairwell to the catacombs.

Will: What makes you think I want to catch him?

Later:

Will: You shouldn't be down here alone.

Pazzi: I’m not alone. I'm with you.

Will: You don’t know whose side I’m on.

Pazzi stares at Will, cautious.

Pazzi: What are you going to do when you find him? Your Il Mostro?

Will: I'm curious about that myself.

Pazzi: You're already dead, aren't you?

Other people realize how dark Will is, too.

Then we move toward Will’s trip to Lithuania in E3. His reverent attitude to Hannibal begins to change once he meets Chiyoh, but he admits the following:

Will: I’ve never known myself as well as I know myself when I’m with him.

Will learns that Chiyoh has been staying here for all these years because she doesn’t want to kill another person. He notes that they can’t be sure whether her prisoner really killed Mischa because Hannibal is the only person who knows the truth. Despite all this, Will sets Chiyoh up to kill or be killed, releasing her prisoner secretly. Chiyoh rightfully accuses him of it:

Chiyoh: You said Hannibal was curious if I would kill. You were curious, too.

He was, if he is honest with himself.

What Will did was cruel and violent. Hannibal just left Chiyoh be, he openly and boldly risked her life, not caring about her safety or about whether her tortured prisoner deserves this. Will stays behind to make the body into art in Hannibal’s style, in accordance with his own design from when he killed Randall. This Will is dark and confident, and very in touch with his dark side. He dreams of killing Chiyoh and keeps asking her whether she saw what a monster she was, unable to accept the idea that only he has real darkness while Chiyoh doesn’t and that murder didn’t make her feel good. He repeats to Jack that a part of him will always want to be with Hannibal. Sadly, he then sees Bedelia as his replacement, grows even bitterer, and tries to attack Hannibal with the knife.

In E7, Will bites into Cordell’s cheek and tears a piece of meat out of it. Then he looks at Hannibal to see his reaction, waiting for his pride. He shows zero reaction to the news that Jack is alive — he doesn’t care about it. He rebukes Alana and shows that he still sees himself and Hannibal as a team, referring to them as “we”.

Will: You helped Mason Verger find us.

Alana: I helped Mason find Hannibal. We followed Bâtard-Montrachet when we should have just followed you.

Will: Almost as ugly as what Mason wants to do to us is the fact that he can do it with the tacit agreement of people sworn to uphold the law.

Alana: I was trying to get to Hannibal before you. I knew you couldn't stop yourself. So I had to try.

Will: By facilitating torture and death.

Alana: I can abide the thought of Hannibal tortured, not necessarily to death. I'd say he has it coming, wouldn't you? Or maybe you wouldn't.

Alana can no longer deny Will’s twisted morals. Will tries to push Alana to a darker side, manipulating her into releasing Hannibal, by telling her almost exactly what he and Hannibal were discussing in S2.

Will: Then you have to evolve, Alana. You have to spill blood. By your own hand or someone else's.

After the escape, Hannibal says the words that define Will perfectly:

Hannibal: You delight in wickedness and then berate yourself for the delight.

This is exactly what Will does — he acts on his darkness again and again, but then he gets scared and makes two steps back. He’s not ready to fully let go of the idea of a normal life yet.

Will sends Hannibal away. When Jack arrives, Will doesn’t even bother to pretend he tried to arrest him — he just says that Hannibal is gone. Jack clearly has zero trust in him at this point since he sends people to break into Will’s house without asking his permission. Will has completely discredited himself, proving himself as someone dark and twisted.

But Hannibal gives himself up and 3 years pass. After the epic Europe failure and his new insecurities, Will tries to retreat again. He decides to try being normal one more time, despite his previous failures at suppressing his darkness and his feelings for Hannibal. So he marries Molly, and it goes as well as expected. Their relationship is shown as weak from the start. The first time we see them, they are apart: Molly and Walter have gone fishing, which is what Will loves and dreamed of sharing with Abigail, yet he stays behind. He didn't let go of the past. He subtly manipulates Jack into talking Molly into urging him to come join the investigation — he deliberately leaves them alone under a weak excuse, knowing very well what Jack is about to do. Will is bored with his normal life and he misses Hannibal, even if he isn’t ready to fully admit it yet.

His treatment of Molly deserves a separate mention: this is the woman he lies to through his teeth, the woman whose “I love you” he doesn’t bother to return and who he doesn’t want to interact with the second she raises the topic he finds personally uncomfortable, someone he leaves her at the first opportunity. He never told her the truth about himself. The way Molly tries to joke about him having a criminal mind proves that she knows nothing of Will's dark struggles, and the way Will immediately shuts down demonstrates their incompatibility and his unwillingness to be honest and open with her.

On the very first day, Will demands to see Hannibal, lying about having to restore his mindset. We know it’s a lie because we’ve just seen him reconstruct Francis’ murder perfectly. He just wanted to see him because he missed him, and both Hannibal and later Bedelia call him out on it.

E9:

Hannibal: You just came here to look at me. Came to get the old scent again. Why don't you just smell yourself?

E10:

Bedelia: Have you been to see him?

Will: Yes.

Bedelia: Haven't learned anything, have you? Or did you just miss him that much?

This is what Hannibal says about Will’s marriage — and another reference to his darkness:

Hannibal: How did you choose yours? Readymade wife and child to serve your needs. A stepson or daughter – (off his look) – a stepson absolves you of any biological blame. You know better than to breed. Can’t pass on those terrible traits you fear the most.

This is very accurate and Will doesn’t bother to deny it. He’s more concerned about stalking Bedelia and asking her about her relationship with Hannibal than anything else. He makes zero efforts to preserve his family, which shows how irrelevant they are to him. This makes him a very cold and cruel person. Also, the way he acts with Bedelia is very different from how he acts with others. With her, he can be himself. He’s dark, relatively confident, and dangerous — which is likely why he keeps coming back to her. With others, he still puts on a rather meek mask.

There is quite a solid idea that a part of Will knew Hannibal might target Molly and Walter and send Francis after them (it’s up to interpretation, though). Hannibal gives Will very clear hints.

Will: Tell me who [the killer] is.

Hannibal: I don’t know who he is. When you close your eyes, Will... is that your family you see?

[Will scoffs at this.]

Will: Do you know who they are?

Hannibal: Yes.

Will: And you're willing to let them die.

Hannibal: They're not my family, Will. And I'm not letting them die. You are.

These are huge hints, and since Will is supposed to be an excellent profiler — more than that, a profiler who understands Hannibal intimately, it’s strange that he didn’t even suspect anything. Maybe a part of him subconsciously wanted proof that Hannibal is in love with him — since he goes to Bedelia with his question right after the attack. Maybe he wanted reassurance that the passion is still there. Maybe he even wanted an excuse to abandon Molly and Walter (and he does it very easily an episode later).

Ultimately, Will seems genuinely infuriated by the attack, but it’s possible that “the enemy inside him” secretly hoped for such outcome. He spends about a minute being truly angry at Hannibal — then he becomes concerned that he’s competing with Francis for Hannibal’s attention, which underlines the irrelevance of his family to him once more. When talking to Walter, Will doesn’t try to hug him or actually comfort him. They are like strangers, and Will shows resentment about having to explain some facts about himself to Walter later.

Will: He read about me in a Freddie Lounds article. I had to justify myself to an eleven year old.

Not “to my son”, but an indifferent and impersonal “11 year old”. Another reminder that Will is a cold person.

This attack made Will realize Hannibal is in love with him, and it finally started the process of his Becoming. Will is shown as full of resentment toward Jack and Alana. He callously sets up Chilton, an innocent person, for torture and death in E12. He explicitly says that he did it deliberately and doesn’t regret it.

Will: Damn if I'll feel … The divine punishment of the sinner mirrors the sin being punished. Chilton languished unrecognized until Hannibal the Cannibal. He wanted the world to know his face.

Bedelia: Now he doesn't have one.

At first, Will makes a half-hearted attempt at denial.

Will: I put my hand on his shoulder for authenticity.

Bedelia: To establish he really told you those insults about the Dragon? Or had you wanted to put Dr. Chilton at risk? Just a little?

Will: I wonder.

Bedelia: Do you really have to wonder?

Will: No.

Bedelia: You were curious what would happen, that's apparent. Is this what you expected?

Will sounds very ironic.

Will: I can't say I'm surprised.

Bedelia: Then you may as well have struck the match. That's participation. Hannibal Lecter does indeed have agency in the world. He has you.

Considering the timing, Chilton looks like Will’s courtship gift to Hannibal. This is the second time Will harms an innocent person, which makes him far darker than a righteous killer should be. And why? Just because. His darkness is really evolving.

When Will visits Chilton with Jack, he openly lies to him (Jack) and tells him Hannibal is responsible for what happened.

In E13, Will stages another deadly game. He plots with Francis to break Hannibal free — the immediacy of his plan makes it look like Will has already been thinking about it before. He lies to Jack and Alana. He hides the fact that Francis is alive from them, and when they discover it by themselves, he offers a plan: to use Hannibal as a bait and stage his escape. Jack begins to plan everything. If Will had actually followed this plan, it would have gotten Hannibal and Francis killed. But Will doesn’t care about justice — he wants Hannibal free and he doesn’t give a damn about the consequences. He shares his true intentions with Bedelia and threatens her.

Will: I don't intend Hannibal to be caught a second time.

Bedelia studies Will. Sensing where he might be going. Hoping she is wrong. A flicker of alarm plays in her eyes.

Bedelia: Can't live with him. Can't live without him. Is that what this is?

Will: I guess… this is my Becoming . I'd pack my bags if I were you, Bedelia. Meat's back on the menu … Ready or not… here he comes.

This is a crucial moment because while in S2, Will called Randall’s murder his design, now he’s finally Becoming. It’s the climax of everything. He leaks info about Hannibal’s transfer to Francis (who, if you recall, has attacked Will’s wife and her son). He gets many officers murdered by proxy; he sets up Jack and destroys him professionally again; he endangers Alana and her family as well as Molly and Walter. Without showing even an ounce of regret toward the dead officers, Will climbs out of the car. We don’t get to see it, but this is what he does according to the script:

Will takes the gun off the dead cop.

Still with no care, he watches how Hannibal throws another body out of the car and offers Will to take a seat. Will looks long-suffering and fond, even though he has just gotten about 5 people killed. He goes with Hannibal.

In the cliff house, he admits he’s not sure if he can “save” himself by killing Hannibal.

Will: I don't know if I can save myself. And maybe that's just fine.

He intends to try, though, but when Francis attacks, Will naturally chooses Hannibal because he can’t see him killed. He reaches for his gun and the fight begins. Seeing Francis strangling Hannibal, Will pulls out the knife from his body and rushes to protect him. He and Hannibal kill Francis together, and Will plunges the knife into him with obvious relish. Then he admires the way the blood looks on his hand.

Will: It really does look black in the moonlight.

This is proof of how Will remembers everything Hannibal has ever said to him. He reaches out to embrace Hannibal, finally allowing himself this weakness, finally accepting that this is who he is and that there is no way back.

Hannibal: See? This is all I ever wanted for you, Will. For both of us.

Will: It’s beautiful.

These words have a tremendous worth. Hannibal’s dream for them, the one he has been hoping for since early S1, has just become realized, and Will found it beautiful. The script confirms it additionally:

A moment as Will considers the brutal pack hunting he shared with Hannibal Lecter. He genuinely feels it is beautiful.

Upon this realization, Will gives the fate the last chance to stop himself and Hannibal, knowing that if they live, they’ll unleash their mutual darkness on the world. He pushes them off the cliff that has been confirmed to have no rocks by Hannibal, giving them a chance to survive. And they do — and they stay together and hunt. Will threatened Bedelia with being eaten and he kept his promise. The deleted epilogue to the series shows him and Hannibal in perfect harmony with each other.

Note that this is far from the only moments and details of Will’s long Becoming. There are many more, but if I addressed them, this meta would be even longer. However, here’s a quick analysis of Will’s softer sides — because they also aren’t as simple as it might seem at first. Will seems to sympathize only with people he can relate to personally, who remind him of himself in some way, and most often, they are murderers. He’s bitter about not being able to save killer-children in E4 because like them, he struggles with understanding what family means; he feels close to Georgia because he also thinks he’s losing his mind and no one can understand him; he’s gentle with Peter because he sees him as his fragile mirror; he’s soft with Reba because like Bryan said, they are both people in love with serial killers. With everyone else, Will is indifferent or cold. These traits were less visible in S1, but after he started to Become, they began to come to the surface. His softer sides still have a degree of selfishness to them.

So, Will has always had darkness in him. He has always been a rather cold person despite his genuine struggles, confusion, and the desire to be normal. Hannibal changed his life, helping him embrace himself and find unconditional love and acceptance. Will’s journey was very long, it had many setbacks, but in the end, he made it. They both did, and now they are free to enjoy their new life together.

Tagging some old fans who might be interested! @typicalher @hannibalized @bloodsmile @victorineb @he-s-dead-jim

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #becoming

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novelconcepts · 4 years

Text

fic: walking with the lady

Every movie, every book, every story about the horrors of letting in the ghosts has prepared Dani for the constant state of alarm. The panic. The discomfort of the situation.

Not a single goddamn one told her how stupid it would be.

***

The first time Viola Lloyd rears her spectral head outside of a dream, Dani is doing her best to enjoy an incredibly pleasant spring morning. She’s been having strange thoughts--strange echoes of night terrors that have been escalating, images weaving as though shot from the depths of some great ocean--for a few months now. Has been trying her very best to take Jamie’s advice and not worry about it. One day at a time. Stop gazing into every reflective surface in the county and just...live.

And she’s been doing that, she thinks, with a decent amount of peaceful abandon for a woman carrying an unknown beast in the depths of her psyche. She’s traveled. She’s seen much of America, and more of Jamie. She’s learned she’ll never get any better at tea, that she’s honestly not terrible at pasta, that she can talk the ear off old women who just want to stop and smell the flowers. It’s been a serene six, seven, eight years, if she lays them all end to end, and she’s glad of it.

But the dreams are coming faster now. With more regularity. Long stretches of night fade into black and white, into memories she can feel with her whole body, but knows aren’t her own. Corsets and sweeping skirts, a sister she never had, a husband. A child. None of this belongs to Dani, so it must be her, mustn’t it?

It scares her. She talks about it to Jamie when she wakes--sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the middle of the night; whether she’s truly awake or not, Jamie always listens. They always hunker back down, holding tight to one another, Jamie whispering into her hair that you’re still here, you’re still you, it’s all okay, Poppins. It helps, as much as anything’s going to.

What doesn’t help is sitting here on this park bench, a list of shopping plans open in her lap, and hearing--hearing isn’t even the right word for it, it’s like a ringing voice coming up from the very back of her head--someone say, “And what on earth is that?”

Dani sits straight upright, every line of her body rigid with fear. “What...is what?”

She’s said the words out loud, she realizes when an elderly man with a basket of stale bread turns slowly to look at her. Her mouth twists itself into a rictus grin of apology, and he shuffles off, looking very much like a man prepared for his own murder at the hands of a lunatic schoolteacher.

“Well,” the voice says, coolly amused. “That was embarrassing for us both.”

What, Dani thinks, the fuck is going on?

“What’s going on,” Viola Lloyd’s deep, accented voice says, “is truly beyond my knowledge. Do you know the last time I had this many thoughts of my own? Must have been...oh, three hundred years, now...”

Why, Dani thinks furiously, are you having them now?

“I certainly couldn't say.” Viola sounds astonished. “The last I recall, I was trying to reclaim my child--”

Flora, Dani interrupts with a rush of anger, was not your child.

She imagines she can feel Viola’s hand flip to and fro, carelessly. “It’s all apples in the end, isn’t it?”

She’s clenching her fists in her lap, she realizes, as if there’s anything to fight. As if she could ward Viola off from inside her own body.

“Oh,” Viola says coolly, “I wouldn’t worry just yet. I couldn’t say for sure--it’s all rather new, you must understand--but I don’t think I could do anything to you. Not yet. Look, here, I’ll try...”

Dani’s muscles strain against an invisible force that never comes. Viola chuckles.

“See? Nothing. The lights are on, my dear, but none but you is really home.”

Then why are you awake? Dani demands.

“Not a clue, darling. It’s nice, though, isn’t it? You really take it for granted in life.”

Take what for--

“Seeing,” Viola breathes. “I haven’t seen anything properly in centuries. I’d forgotten how bright the world was. How full of...color.”

Is it Dani’s imagination, or does Viola’s tone hold an edge of disgust on that final word?

“So, again, I find myself asking. What on earth do you call that?”

Dani allows instinct to turn her head, somehow sensing the direction Viola wishes for her to look. She finds herself staring at a young child playing at her mother’s feet.

I--it’s... And it’s here, in this moment, faced with the nearly impossible task of explaining to the 400-year-old ghost woman who shares her body what a Slinky is for that Dani Clayton decides this whole cohabitation thing might have been a mistake.

***

“Hang on,” Jamie says. “Hang on, she’s awake in there?”

Dani, folded nearly double on their couch with her face in her hands, nods. Her head is pounding. Viola has been, ah, what’s the polite way to put it? Running her mouth. For nearly four hours.

“She’s got some...opinions,” Dani mumbles into her cupped hands. Jamie stops rubbing light circles into her back, curious.

“About what?”

“Might be a shorter list, to ask what she doesn’t have an opinion about,” Dani says. At the back of her head, she feels Viola cross her arms.

“This sounds like you are on the path to impudence, Miss Clayton.”

“But hang on, I thought--” Jamie seems to be choosing her words carefully. “I thought she was just sort of...in there. Tucked away, like the kids said. What do you mean she can see?”

Dani blows out a long breath, wishing dearly for a cigarette. “I don’t know, Jamie, I’m not the authority on carrying Victorian women around in my skull.”

“Bit nearer to it than me, Poppins.” Jamie’s smiling, plainly trying to make her feel better. Dani turns to glower at her.

“I love you very much. Please don’t test me right now. She hasn’t stopped talking for more than twenty minutes all afternoon.”

Jamie raises her hands in surrender. “Can she...can she see me now?”

“Tell her,” Viola says. “Tell her I can see her, and her mannishly-inappropriate hairstyle.”

“I will not be saying that,” Dani mutters. Jamie raises an eyebrow.

“Are you having a conversation now? What’s she saying?”

“Please let her know I find her insistence upon men’s trousers silly at best, her blouses are entirely too loose, and I am bewildered by the wealth of ankle she seems to find appropriate in mixed company--”

“She says you have a nice smile,” Dani says. Jamie’s eyebrows raise to her hairline. Viola makes a horrible little noise of revulsion.

“How dare you place words in my mouth!”

“You are absolutely not telling me the truth, are you?” Jamie says in the same moment. Dani groans.

“Aspirin. I am going to need so much aspirin.”

***

It’s not all the time, thankfully; Dani thinks she’d go mad if Viola were truly there at all hours, yammering away about silks and petticoats and the good old days when a person could just drop dead of the plague with no notice. Sometimes, Viola even goes days at a stretch without saying a word, as though she’s sunk back to sleep in whatever little corner of Dani’s mind she calls a bedroom.

And then, like a thunderstorm, she emerges once more. Usually with something snappy and irritating to share with Dani.

“Are we really wearing that?”

“There is no we, Viola,” Dani grumbles. She’s in the process of trying to choose between a flower-patterned dress and a denim vest, unable to gauge what kind of day it’s going to be when she steps out of the closet and into the chaos. Business has been booming down at The Leafling, which is wonderful, but more than a little overwhelming. And Jamie, god love her, has taken to watching Dani when she thinks Dani won’t notice, always with this worried little crease between her eyes.

It’s making her crazy, if she’s honest about it. Jamie isn’t the worrier in the relationship, and watching her slip into the role is making Dani feel worse about the whole situation. She needs Jamie to tell her it’s all fine, it’s all perfectly all right, they’re going to make it through this new weirdness together no problem.

“My dear, we became a we the night you said the magic words,” Viola says, a bit pettily. “Or have you forgotten me already?”

“How,” Dani grits out, “on earth am I supposed to forget you? Feel like I spend every day just...waiting for you to spring up and ask some idiotic question about cars or airplanes or deodorant--”

“For a schoolteacher, you surely lack for patience, Miss Clayton.”

Dani closes her eyes, searching for strength. Her hands grope, landing on dress and vest and yanking them free. “You know what? Both. We’re doing both today.”

“We most certainly are not! Not even a glove to be found? And again with the florals! We’ve been over how tacky the florals are, Miss Clayton. Miss Clayton, are you listening?”

“No,” Dani says decisively, wriggling into the layers and looking around for her chunkiest pair of earrings.

“You are the scandal of the town, Miss Clayton,” Viola sniffs.

***

“Does she, ah...watch when we do this?”

Dani groans. They’d been having such a nice evening--an old movie fading slowly into wandering hands, Jamie’s mouth making its way down her neck, Jamie’s fingers slipping beneath the hem of her shirt and tickling her ribs. She’d just flipped Jamie onto her back, was just looking to remove the deeply inconvenient articles of cloth between them, when Jamie pressed a palm lightly against her chest.

“Not trying to be weird about it,” Jamie says, breathless. Her eyes are dark and heavy; though she’s stopped Dani moving closer, one of her legs has wound around Dani’s hip, easing her in. It’s giving Dani the worst kind of mixed message, to say the least.

“Would you like us to put this sort of thing on hold until I find a way to exorcise the demon from my head, Jamie?”

“I did not say that. I decidedly said nothing of the kind.”

Dani lets her head fall forward, covering Jamie’s face in a fall of blonde. “Sorry. That was snippy. I just...I don’t know the answer. She’s...” She tilts her head, eyes shut, searching. “Quiet. For now.”

Jamie brushes her hair back, cups the side of her face, thumb moving in a slow arc across her cheekbone. “S’all right then. Can’t blame me being curious, can you? I mean, it’s not every day you find a third party sneaks into your bed.”

Dani leans into the soft stroke of her hand, sighing. “I don’t like it, either, you know. She’s so...judgey. I hadn’t realized ghosts could be judgey.”

“What’s she judging?” The hand on her chest slides, gripping a fistful of her shirt, pulling her toward Jamie. Dani sighs again, letting Jamie kiss her with the soft determination of someone apologizing for stopping this train in the first place.

“Me,” she murmurs against Jamie’s lips. “You.”

“Me?” Jamie sounds affronted. “What’s there to judge about me, I’m a bloody peach.”

Dani laughs, bites her lower lip until Jamie groans. “It’s not anything personal. It’s just...the whole world is so different from what she remembers. There’s TV, jean shorts, women out there having jobs and lives without consent of their husbands...for her, it must be the Wild West.”

“Judges what she doesn’t understand, is that it?” Jamie is doing an admirable job of pretending to still be invested in this conversation, even as her hands are making short work of Dani’s sweatpants. Dani sucks in a breath.

“I guess. Yeah. Can’t blame her for that, really.”

Jamie mulls this over, fingers tracing hipbone. Her nails bite gently into soft skin. “Does she judge us for this, I wonder?”

“Do you care?”

“Not,” Jamie says, twisting her hand and bringing their mouths together hard, “in the least.”

***

“Put it out the window.”

“I am not putting it out the window, Viola.”

“Down a flight of stairs, then! What in all cosmic reaches of hell is this for, if not throwing it somewhere it can never harm another soul again!”

Dani exhales through her nose, slowly, embracing every meditative memory of dealing with errant children. “I am not,” she says slowly to the empty apartment, “going to throw my television anywhere. And I'd really appreciate it if you’d stop making that suggestion every time I turn it on.”

“You are letting your soul rot from the inside out with this filth!” Viola is all but shrieking. Dani imagines her pacing back and forth, back and forth, her hands wild. “Your moral fiber, Miss Clayton. What of your moral fiber?”

“If MTV rots away one’s moral fiber,” Dani says, as calmly as she knows how, “then I suspect we’re all lost causes, anyway.”

Viola is silent for such a long time, Dani thinks she’s done the trick. She turns her attention back to the laundry she’s been folding to the tune of Janet Jackson. Her head bobs gently in time as the videos shuffle past--Madonna, Michael, Paula, George. Then, with the hour change, newer fare. She’s still getting around to some of these artists, still trying to work out how she feels about them.

"Did you hear that?” Viola seethes. “What was that about an anaconda? Is this man suggesting we feed a woman to snakes? What barbarism do your people accept in this age?”

Dani folds a pair of Jamie’s socks with such deliberate care, she nearly forgets to breathe while doing it.

“Moral fiber,” Viola hisses. “Moral fiber is wasted on this age of nudity and...and...hammertime.”

Dani finds herself desperately invested in ironing the wrinkles out of a pair of jeans with her hand until Viola goes quiet again.

***

“You could have such nice hair,” Viola croons. “Such nice hair, if you would only put them away...”

“They’re convenient,” Dani says, scraping her hair back into a pink scrunchie. Viola makes a noise of disgust.

“They’re abhorrent. Honestly, your time and its...fashions. What do you call this?”

She’s gesturing toward the bathroom counter, to the little basket that holds all the hair supplies. Dani sighs.

“It’s a headband, Viola. We like headbands. They keep the hair out of our eyes.”

“There are other ways. Fine hats. Lovely veils. Why don’t you own any lovely veils, Dani, do you want the common folk seeing your every decision in your eyes?”

Dani reaches for the hairspray. Behind her, Jamie bustles in with shirt half-buttoned, suspenders swinging around her thighs. Viola makes another catty little noise.

“Any news?” Jamie asks, reaching around for a hairbrush and kissing Dani’s cheek.

“She doesn’t like scrunchies,” Dani reports. “And she’s started calling me Dani.”

Jamie frowns. “Good sign or bad?”

“Impossible to guess.”

“Tell her you want some veils,” Viola says sweetly. “And for her to learn the value of a fine skirt.”

Dani, ignoring this, reaches around the back of Jamie’s neck and pulls her into a searing kiss. Jamie drops the hairbrush with a clatter, leaning Dani back against the counter and gripping the small of her back like she’s suddenly forgotten they’re both late for work.

When they break apart, they’re both flushed, Dani giggling into the underside of Jamie’s jaw, Jamie’s eyes glazed. In the back of her mind, she hears Viola sigh.

“That is truly childish, you know.”

***

It’s kind of an accidental habit, punishing her inner ghost for bad behavior by channeling her frustrations into sex. She couldn’t explain it if she tried, except to say Viola does tend to shut up when Dani’s properly distracted. Maybe it’s just the way the connection works, thinner when Dani isn’t willing to give it energy. Maybe Viola’s embarrassed. Either way, a year after Viola first speaks, her life with Jamie burns hotter than it ever has.

It’s best when Viola is trying to run her mouth over Jamie’s fashion sense, she’s noticed. It is, in fact, the only way to shut Viola up about the aforementioned fashion sense. Which Dani intellectually understands; coming up from a world 400 years away, where women dressed in endless layers and a person’s value was often found in the shine of her jewels and the rich fabric of her skirts, slamming face-first into the 1990s must have been a trip. Truly, Viola is lucky Dani didn’t cart her out of that lake earlier. If she thinks scrunchies are bad, she should have seen the heyday of shoulder pads.

Honestly, though, the worst thing is listening to Viola trill on about how much better Jamie could look if she’d only bow to the whims of femininity. Jamie, whose primary word on fashion has always been “can I dig a hole in this?” is perfect just the way she is. In fact, as the years go on and her jeans grow cuffs, her shorts grow shorter, her tops crop midway up her stomach, Dani thinks the world is finally suiting Jamie instead of the other way around.

“She’s prancing around for the world to see--”

“It’s ninety-six degrees out,” Dani says in a low voice. She understands these conversations with Viola can be internalized, but she tends to wind up wearing this distant expression every time, and Jamie can spot it a mile off. Best to just mutter aloud in the sanctity of their own home.

“She’s walking her wares up and down the block,” Viola rages on. “Not a shawl to be seen!”

“Jamie,” Dani calls from the kitchen, “have you ever in your life worn a shawl?”

“That’s, uh, one of those blankets with the fringy bits, yeah?” Jamie calls back. She’s bent over the air conditioning unit, trying to coax life into the old girl. The cropped line of her black t-shirt rides up her back, revealing glistening skin. Dani tips her head to enjoy the view. “I’ll pass on account of any blanket in this heat being like to kill me.”

“Best not to test it,” Dani agrees. Viola heaves the longest-suffering sigh Dani’s ever heard.

“It doesn’t bother you in the least, your woman out there, where anyone could see her...her bare stomach!”

“One,” Dani says coolly, “she’s my girlfriend, not my woman. Two, I’ve never once tried to dictate her clothing, and I’m not stopping because a dead woman insists. Three, I happen to like it.”

“Like what?” Jamie strolls back to her, pushing sweaty hair off her forehead with a sigh. She stops a few inches away, rocking back and forth on her heels like she wants nothing more than to close the distance despite the mind-numbing heat.

“Viola is commenting upon your more risqué clothing choices.”

“What? This?” Jamie grasps the exceedingly high-cut hem of her shirt and tugs it gently upward, teasing. “What’s her problem with all this?”

“It’s on display, evidently.”

“As it should be,” Jamie says almost primly. “I’m a fine specimen to behold. Learn to enjoy it, love, it’ll be faster than trying to change the view.”

This last, she says in a slightly louder voice, as though speaking to the shadow behind Dani’s eyes. She’s grinning, and Dani has time to think how strange it is, how quickly they’ve learned to accommodate Viola’s appearances into their conversations--Jamie has taken to leaving beats between her sentences, allowing for Dani to process two people speaking at once--before Jamie is wrapping both arms around her and lifting her off the floor. She squeals in surprise, delight turning to desire as Jamie licks a bead of sweat from her neck.

“Not again,” Viola sighs. “You’ll wake the whole village.”

“Apartment,” Dani corrects, catching Jamie by the jaw and kissing her hungrily. It’s too hot for this, probably, but she can’t quite remember how to care when Jamie pulls free of her grasp and slides to her knees, taking Dani’s skirt with her.

“It’s a nightmare, regardless.”

***

Eventually, Viola proves herself capable of learning a thing or two. Namely, that she is welcome to run commentary on anyone in the world except for Jamie.

Even old ghosts can learn new tricks, apparently, although it takes a number of months, a great deal of sex, and one memorable weekend in which--upon Viola raging over every article in Jamie’s side of the closet for half an hour--Dani simply removed the option of clothing from Viola’s sight altogether.

“This,” Jamie panted, both of them on the floor with a sheet draped over their tangled limbs, “is working for me in the weirdest way, Poppins.”

“I think she’s really starting to hate me,” Dani said conversationally, even as her fingers slipped between Jamie’s legs yet again. Jamie’s hips rose to meet her, one hand burying itself in her hair.

“Well, that makes one of us, doesn’t it?”

***

Not commenting on Jamie, naturally, does nothing to stop Viola talking about every other goddamn thing in the world.

“We’re going to have to have a long talk about not shaming women for their bodies, you know,” Dani tells her one afternoon. Viola has been tearing a young woman to pieces over her short skirt, furious that someone so pristine could soil herself with such impunity. Dani must be getting used to this in the weirdest way possible, because this kind of floral language is starting to feel second-nature.

“I would never shame anyone,” Viola protests. “I am simply stating fact. Men do not value women as it is, and while we may win their games, we get nowhere at all if we do not play them.”

“This isn’t a game, Viola, it’s her life. Her body. She can do whatever she likes with it.”

“But I want her to succeed,” Viola insists. There’s an almost disconcerting eagerness to the words. She really truly believes what she’s saying. “A woman viewed as nothing more than a strumpet will have an even more difficult time securing a dowry, and then where will she be?”

“In college?” Dani suggests blithely. “Traveling? Living isn’t just for men, Viola, I know you know this. You refused the oath of obedience on your wedding day.”

“Of course it’s not for men’s sake alone, but when the law--”

“The law is different here,” Dani says, almost gently. “Has been for a long time. Or haven’t you noticed how well Jamie and I get along without a man to be found?”

Viola’s silence stretches so long, Dani’s sure she’s either gone back to sleep or is finally choosing this moment to let the ugly banner of homophobia unfurl. She’s been waiting for this moment for years, it seems, waiting for the ghost in her head to mimic her mother on the one and only occasion she attempted to send home a letter.

“You’re different,” Viola says at last, very softly. Dani blinks.

“Pardon?”

“You’re different,” Viola repeats. “Jamie is your forever. Does that young girl have her forever, Miss Clayton?”

“Well--I don't know, I don’t suppose it’s my business--”

“Perhaps she will find it in one like our Jamie,” Viola says impatiently. “But perhaps she will find instead the stones of men who have not, over four centuries, really changed all that much. Is it so wrong of me, to have a mother’s care for that?”

Dani doesn’t know how to answer. Doesn’t have the first idea, when faced with a Viola who is not simply catty for cattiness’ sake, but genuine. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, unable to find argument.

“We just. We just don’t pick on girls for what they do with their bodies, all right? It’s...it’s cruel, and it isn’t necessary.”

Viola sighs. “Fine. But we still ought to discuss the pattern choices. Those polka dots are not flattering in the least.”

It’s only later, watching Jamie chop carrots for dinner, that Dani realizes Viola had said our. Our Jamie.

“Oh sweet Christ,” she mumbles.

***

The change is slow. Subtle. If not for the fact of carrying this woman in her head, Dani’s not sure she even would have noticed.

“She what?” Jamie looks up from the plant she’s tending, fingernails grimed with soil, wedding ring carefully strung upon a thick chain around her neck until she can clean up again. “She...sorry, what?”

“I can’t be sure,” Dani muses. “It sounds...crazy. But I think she’s starting to like you.”

“Well, sure,” Jamie laughs. “I’m a deeply likable human being. But this is the Lady, yeah? Same one who dragged Peter fucking Quint to his death? Same one who thinks I show too much skin?”

“I’m...not convinced she thinks that anymore.” It’s really hard to say for sure. On the one hand, it’s possible Viola has shut up about Jamie’s shorn sleeves and shorts because every time she mentioned either, Dani made it her personal life’s mission to make sure Jamie never wore anything else around the house. On the other...

“I think she looked at your butt the other day.”

Jamie raises her eyes slowly, brow furrowing. “Can she do that? Turn your eyes to something you weren’t already looking at?”

“No,” Dani says, a bit stiffly, all too aware of stepping into the trap. Jamie grins.

“Thought not.”

“But it was different,” Dani presses on through flushing cheeks. “I mean--even if I was already looking, she was--I mean--she--”

She doesn’t know how to explain it. How the rumble in her chest, already so familiar at the sight of Jamie puttering around their home, had seemed to expand until it encompassed all of her. How it was like someone had turned the heat in the room to its breaking point.

“I can just tell, okay?” she says, aggrieved. “She looked at your butt, and she liked it.”

Jamie makes a thoughtful face, brushing dirt off her hands with slow, deliberate motions. “So...what you’re saying is...your personal ghostie has a crush on your wife?”

Dani presses her face against the counter, letting the cool metal relieve her blush. “Shit. Yeah. I think she might.”

“This is,” Jamie says triumphantly, pressing up against Dani from behind and kissing the back of her neck, “the funniest thing that has ever happened, by a country goddamn mile.”

***

A series of events, cascading in short order, that Dani almost actually feels bad about. If one could feel guilty about putting strain on one’s personal-pan Casper.

The Britney Spears video, for one. Viola still does not like music videos--or music, frankly, unless it involves a ridiculous number of flutes and orchestral swells--but she’s grown to tolerate them. Mostly.

That is, until Britney sways onscreen in a plaid skirt and schoolgirl pigtails.

“Fuck,” Dani gasps, hand coming down hard against her own breastbone. It’s like someone grabbed the dial on her blood pressure and cranked it all the way up. That someone, she suspects, being the dead woman who has been more and more present of late.

“I--I cannot--I simply am not capable of understanding--” Viola sounds like she’s short-circuiting. “I know we are not meant to comment, but what on earth is she doing?!”

“Dancing,” Dani says sharply, trying to coax her breathing back down. Is this what a stroke feels like? Is her fucking ghost roommate giving her an actual stroke? “Viola, you’ve seen dancing.”

“She is so young! She is a child! Who is protecting this person from the world?” Viola is furious. Viola is exploding. Dani sort of wonders if her chest is going to explode, too.

“She’s...a pop star. This is what they get paid lots and lots of money to do.” It’s a bad answer, she knows. These videos make her a little uncomfortable too, when she thinks on them too long. But Viola? Viola’s rage is a towering beast of a thing. For a minute, lungs scraping at the air, Dani is genuinely afraid this is the point where the switch flips. Where she finds herself staring at the room from the back of her own head.

“Someone,” Viola says in a low, terrible voice, “must protect these children.”

It takes almost an hour to calm her down. Dani doesn’t turn MTV back on for a while after that.

***

“The. The moon?” The opposite end of the emotional spectrum this time. If Viola had been nearly apoplectic over Britney’s choreography, she now sounds faint.

“You should have floated that a bit more softly,” Dani tells Jamie, who looks confused.

“Float what, all I did was mention NASA--”

“The moon,” Viola repeats. “We have seen. The moon.”

“She’s having trouble with the moon landing,” Dani says. Jamie waves her hands helplessly.

“Poppins, I have trouble understanding the geography of Texas, we all have problems.”

“We have,” Viola breathes, “stepped foot. Upon. The moon.”

Dani pours herself another large glass of wine.

***

“How’s this, then?” Jamie gives a very small, somewhat self-conscious twirl. “Too much? Too little? Too, ah, revealing, as the ghost contingent might say?”

Dani, leaning against the bedroom wall, can’t quite find the words. Viola, too, is conspicuously silent.

“It’s bad,” Jamie says, nodding fervently. “Yeah, y’know, I think I knew it when I picked it up. Better on the sales rack, as they say. I can just...if you wouldn’t mind popping the zip real quick...”

“Yes, Dani,” Viola says quietly. “Pop the zip.”

“You don’t even know what that means,” Dani hisses. Jamie raises an eyebrow.

“What’s that?”

“It’s not bad,” Dani says quickly, ignoring the little harrumph Viola utters. “It’s very not bad. Opposite of bad, really.”

Relief floods Jamie’s face. The dress is low cut in a way very little of her clean-up clothes are, with a slit running clear up the leg. Patterned in burgundy petals, the black velvet is stark against her pale skin.

“I won’t get run out of the convention, then? Only they said there’s a bit about drinks and networking, and it was just shy of black-tie. I could do that instead. Get a black tie. Think I’d look nice in a black tie.”

“The dress,” Viola says in a low, conspiratorial voice. “Tell her it is a nice dress.”

“It’s a nice dress,” Dani repeats with comic dazedness. “Best dress I’ve ever seen, maybe.”

“And now,” Viola says soothingly, “you go to her. Walk confidently now, shoulders back, chin up--”

“Are you...wing-man-ing me toward my own wife?”

“Seduction requires confidence, Dani.”

“What’s she saying?” Jamie’s face has gone a curious mix of apprehensive and amused. Dani swallows.

“Seduction requires confidence, evidently.”

A slow grin spreads across Jamie’s face. Dani raises a hand, finger extended.

“Don’t. Don’t make that smug face.”

“What’s smug about it?” She’s moving across the room, arms already reaching. “This is my very natural expression, I’ll have you know. The most normal expression in the world for a woman whose wife is being told to undress her by the ancient rage-ghost sharing her body.”

“Our lives,” Dani says helplessly, already pressing herself flush against Jamie, “are different than other people’s lives.”

“Yes,” Jamie agrees in a low voice, sliding the sweater over Dani’s head. “Can’t find it in me to complain, though, can you?”

***

It’s weird, almost. Weirder, that it’s almost not. That the beast in the jungle, the creature Dani spent nearly a decade dreading, has pounced at last and...mostly, she just seems to want to see Dani happy.

Jamie finds it hilarious, in that pretend-callous way Jamie has of smoothing over genuine concern with soft laughter. She doesn’t like Dani sharing her mental space with someone at all hours, Viola popping up like a wack-a-mole game on high. But, if Dani must share the space with anyone, at least--

“It’s someone who thinks I'm gorgeous.”

“You are gorgeous,” Dani replies, a bit exasperated. “Gorgeous, silly, perfect person. But my inner ghost has a crush on you, that isn’t strange for you?”

“Poppins, my life has been strange since a doe-eyed American strolled into it and told me she still saw her dead fiancé when we kissed.” Jamie reclines on the bed in a sleep shirt and underwear, hands playing lightly with the pillowcase beneath her head. “Strange is my bread and butter these days, and if I had to sacrifice you to have it any other way, we both know how it would go.”

Dani makes a mulish sound under her breath. Jamie cups a hand to her ear.

“Say again?”

“It’s weird,” she repeats, arms crossed over her chest. “She’s weird. I always thought she’d do something bad--walk me off a roof, or strangle someone to death, or try to rob a convenience store. But mostly she just wants to protect young girls from an uncaring world and look at your butt in the shower.”

“That is...very specific,” Jamie says lightly. Dani shakes her head.

“It’s so bizarre. The longer this goes on, the more she sees of the world, it’s like...like she’s getting more real. More Viola, less Lady.”

Jamie sits up, hand sliding to rest high on Dani’s thigh as if to shield her from harm. “But not more solid, right? Not taking up space you already rent?”

Dani shakes her head. “That’s the thing. She doesn't feel like she’s taking over. And it feels...like she should.”

“You want her to?”

“No, no, of course not.” Dani raises Jamie’s knuckles to her lips, raining soft kisses up and down her hand until the tension goes out of her brow. “I just don’t understand what’s happening. This isn’t...what I expected.”

Jamie exhales, shifting her weight until she’s sitting in Dani’s lap. She takes a Dani’s face between her hands, kisses her long and slow until Dani eases back against the headboard.

“This is good, Poppins. You’re a good influence. You were on those kids, and on me, and now on this Lady of yours. Maybe that’s all a ghost needs, deep down.”

Dani leans into her, lets the rhythm of kiss and gentle bite and hands slipping beneath her clothes carry her away for a while. Still, no Viola, and she’s grateful. She doesn’t like to think how that would feel, Viola popping up while Jamie’s curling her fingers deep, groaning soft against her shoulder. There is a time and a place for hauntings, and time with Jamie is something else entirely.

She’s pretty sure Viola even respects that. Which is, like everything else, incredibly strange.

***

Viola attends their second wedding. Their real wedding. It’s bizarre on a level Dani isn’t prepared to deal with, feeling her surface as the plans become reality. Jamie’s got flowers, naturally, and Owen’s catering, and Henry has the kids--who are kids no longer, but fully-formed people with lives of their own--running errands on the day. And Dani...

Dani is looking at herself in a wedding dress for the second time in her life, only this time, she can breathe.

“You are radiant,” Viola says. Dani closes her eyes for a moment, steels herself.

“Nothing else to say? No notes?”

“You chose wisely,” Viola says. Dani sighs.

“I figured lace was classic, and someone told me I had nice shoulders once, so--”

“The dress is beautiful,” Viola says. “But I was not talking about your grooming for the day.”

Dani gives a shaky laugh. “I love her, you know. I really do.”

“I can tell.” A beat of silence. Then: “I did not understand at first. Her. Or you. I suppose I will never understand completely. But...I understand the depths of what you feel. It is a part of me, too, I think. That devotion, sinking into all the spaces where I had forgotten.”

“You’re in love with Jamie, too?” Dani asks, not really wanting the answer. Viola laughs.

“Yes. And no. You and I are intertwined, Miss Clayton. What you feel, I feel, to a degree. More importantly, I have seen your life with her. The life you build with the reckless joy of two people doomed one day to die.”

“Thanks,” Dani says, a bit sharply. She senses Viola putting her hands up, a terribly-modern gesture of surrender.

“You understand what I mean. It takes courage, to love this completely. To do so while carrying a burden neither of us can truly comprehend is...something else altogether. There is a strength there I could not have understood on my most willful of days.”

“You turned Death away at your own doorstep,” Dani points out, smiling. Viola is pleased.

“I did, didn’t I? And I could never regret it, even now. But you. You are doing something so much more incredible. Loving, even knowing what ending love must craft.”

“This is a bit dark for my wedding day,” Dani points out. Viola nods.

“You are radiant. And you are fortunate. And I wish you both all the happiness in the world.”

It is the strangest wedding toast she’s ever heard, and something within Dani’s heart has never been more at peace.

***

“How’s our Lady doing tonight?” Jamie asks as Dani slips into bed beside her. She tips her head, thinking on it. Viola, as she usually is once Dani crosses the bedroom threshold, is nowhere to be found.

“Good, I think. Calm.”

“And my wife?” Jamie looks at her, eyes serious. “You’ve been quieter lately. Fighting her less?”

“She’s been fighting me less,” Dani says. “She...likes it here, I think. Likes us. You know, I thought after this much time, she’d get bored or restless or...go back to her old ways, but...”

“But I’m just too gorgeous,” Jamie teases. Dani slings a leg across her body, holds tight to her with hands that never feel as though they can hold on hard enough.

“I think sometimes...sometimes it’s just about remembering. What it’s like to be a person. What it’s like to be in love.”

“Mm,” Jamie agrees, fingertips drawing dizzying spirals on the bare back of Dani’s shoulder. “Well done, you. You’ve tamed your beast.”

Dani sighs, content. “I think it was a joint effort.”

“Yes,” Jamie agrees, kissing the top of her head. “Because I am, famously, too gorgeous to deny.”

#the haunting of bly manor #the haunting of bly manor spoilers #fanfiction #dani x jamie #jamie x dani #me: I'm gonna take this show incredibly seriously and analyze it in detail #also me: wouldn't it be fucking hilarious if viola just rode around in Dani's mind yapping all the time?#also also me: oh no it went from being stupid to having heart anyway what the hell #anyway this is all karatam's fault and she knows it #and like everything else it isn't as silly as it could be because my dumb heart got in the way

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miss-1ng · 3 years

Text

btw, this was written and never finished i just thought i should post it cause why not! oh yes also crimson flower route spoilers i guess though major canon divergence too. I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO ADD THE READ MORE THING SO HERE WE ARE SORRY

She hears a scream.

So naturally, she reacts to it.

Reacting to something has taken so long before.

Flames whipping towards her faster than she can acknowledge them has never been such a prolonging experience. It feels like hours. It’s only been seconds.

She stretches her arms wide as she shoves Byleth out of the way.

The woman barely stumbles, just falls flat onto her back, and stares up at her with wide eyes. Wide eyes rapidly filling with tears.

She’s only ever seen Byleth cry once. It was that day, that one horrible day with the incident with Monica no, Kronya, where her father had taken his last breath to a dagger.

In the numb roaring from her ears, she wonders why exactly Byleth is crying.

The second heat licks her bare skin she realises what she’s done.

Edelgard’s throat feels tight. Too tight.

It was funny in a way. Funny in a bitter, cruel way. The esteemed Emperor of Adrestia, who has survived many wars, prevailed in hundreds of battles, toughened through blows from swords, spears, axes and bows, you name it, can’t survive flames so seemingly easy to avoid.

Something presses against her heart. It takes her seconds to realise it’s a hand. A soft shaking hand. She sees Byleth��s mouth move but no words seem to come out.

The roars in her ears shatter along with the surroundings.

“That was unimpressive.”

The voice startles Edelgard awake, and she’s unable to hold in the flinch when she’s greeted with darkness only pierced by a small green light.

Edelgard takes a staggering step forward. Her stomach hurdles when she glances beneath her feet, only to see pitch black darkness.

The strange voice continues. “At least I came to your rescue, even if you did interrupt my sleep.” A yawn. “Okay, come on over. How bad is everything? How far back do we need to go?”

“Who are you?” Edelgard demands. Her voice wavers but she tries to keep her voice strong.

A figure steps into the limelight, wearing an intricate dress of blues, reds and white. Long green hair swishes over a small and slim frame, though it doesn’t seem like it’s weighing the person down like it should.

“Oh, you must have hit your head.” She mock laughs. “Ha. Ha. Ha.” She claps slowly with each word. Green eyes lock with Edelgard’s. She blinks. “Oh.” She blinks again, then frowns. “You’re not Byleth.”

“Byleth?” Edelgard’s voice comes out in a growl, a shaky growl, but a growl no less. She glares at the girl in front of her. “Wh-what have you done to her?”

The girl looks affronted. Her eyebrows draw upward, and her jaw falls slightly agape. “Are you accusing me of doing something to Byleth?” she demands in a snappish tone. “Because all I have done is saved her. Many times.”

“But then-” Her voice cracks. “-then where is she?”

Her eyes sting with tears.

The girl sighs. She sits down on a throne which was non-existent until seconds ago, pulling her knees to her chest. “I don’t know.”

And here comes the tummel of questions making a ruckus in Edelgard’s head.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” she cries, feeling tears streak down her cheeks. “What-what do you mean? Where is she? Where am I? Who are you? What-”

“Woah, woah, woah, when I say I don’t know…” The girl inhales sharply. “It means I actually don’t know. I have no idea where Byleth is. But we are-” She glances around. “Somewhere. But my name is Sothis.”

Something in Edelgard snaps. “Sothis?” she growls. “You’re the-the proclaimed ‘Goddess’?”

The girl – Sothis – pinches the bridge of her nose. “Oh, so you’re the girl Byleth yammers on non-stop about.”

She pauses. “What?”

“Byleth has told me about you. About how your goal to eliminate the church, therefore eliminating all belief in the Goddess, AKA me.” She pauses before adding “She’s also spoken very highly of you. You’re important to her.”

Her throat clenches. She feels tears well in her eyes.

She’s important to me too.

“Is that so?” Sothis tuts, pursing her lips.

Edelgard flinches. She takes a wary step back “I said nothing,” she says, even if it’s more like she’s convincing herself than Sothis.

Sothis laughs. She actually laughs, even though it’s more of a delighted giggle. “Oh, you have so much to learn!” She’s wearing a carefree smile, nothing like her sleepy, disoriented gaze from only seconds ago.

“Where are we?” Edelgard repeats. She’s slowly gaining her bearings. “What happened?”

Sothis groans, dragging a hand down her face. “You died,” Sothis tells her. “You died against that dragon by protecting Byleth.”

The reality hits her like a slap to the face. It stings. “I… died?”

“Are you really this thick-skulled?” the Goddess snaps, slapping her hands down on the sides of the throne, to which a resounding smack echoes through the dark area. “You died. You’re dead. Dead. Dead. Dead! Yet I have no idea why you’re here now and Byleth isn’t.”

“Byleth’s… has she come here? Byleth knows you.”

The look Sothis sends her is terrifying, even without words to accompany it.

Byleth.

Her eyes sting again, though she makes no move to wipe the tears off her cheeks.

“You seem to not know much,” Sothis muses. “Would you like a reminder of the battle?”

Before Edelgard can say a word, Sothis clicks her fingers and Edelgard is staggering through a road with flaming buildings on either side.

She stares ahead, vision blurring as she tries to make sense of this situation. Her back presses against the wall without her knowledge and she feels something squeeze her hand.

Dorothea looks down at her, smiling nervously, yet she’s still smiling. Her hand holds Edelgard’s, and she squeezes it once more. “This’ll be fine,” she murmurs. It’s almost like she’s trying to convince herself more than she’s trying to convince Edelgard.

She doesn’t recall this from the battle. She doesn’t recall walking down these paths, ever the same despite the minor differences. She doesn’t recall Dorothea clutching her hand, because no, Byleth was the one clutching hers as they sliced through their enemies and approached Rhea.

A squeaky “Y-yes, it will” slips out of her mouth.

Dorothea walks a few steps forward and Edelgard follows and holds a bow out, squinting at the Demonic Beast snarling at nothing in particular.

The thing is she’s using a bow. She doesn’t even think she’s touched one before.

Empty red eyes suddenly lock with hers and she feels herself flinch and yelp. The arrow flings out of her grip, barely skimming the Demonic Beast’s scales.

The Demonic Beast stomps forward, whipping it’s tale back and forth when Dorothea lunges in front and blasts a Thoron at it.

The creature takes the blow, and Edelgard uses that as a chance to use her bow again.

Why am I using a bow?

That question remains unanswered as she launches another arrow at it. This time it hit’s the Demonic Beast’s forehead. She feels euphoric for a little moment. Almost smiles. Doesn’t. Especially as it’s tail swings around, so fast neither of them can avoid it and knocks Dorothea over some broken picket fences to some Church Soldiers and Edelgard into a crumbling building.

A brick falls and slams against her arm.

The bow snaps into pieces. The brick crushes her arm. Edelgard screams, something so shrill it can’t possibly belong to her.

“Bernie!” Dorothea cries. Edelgard freezes questioning the name of her ally, her friend before another brick clatters down, landing inches away from her face. While her head whips to Edelgard, a spear pierces through her stomach and her head lolls back, blood spitting out of her mouth. “B…ern…”

Dorothea. Edelgard cries out, though by the looks of it Bernadetta is too. Dorothea gone. Dorothea who didn’t care about anyone’s differences. Dorothea who treated every member of the Black Eagles as equals. Dorothea who comforted everyone in times of need. Dorothea who was a beautiful, beloved, and kind-hearted soul who did not deserve to fight in a war she didn’t even belong in.

“What will you do, when the war is finished?” Edelgard had asked one particularly sunny day whilst the two were having tea.

Dorothea had smiled, green eyes full of something so sweet it warmed Edelgard’s heart. It was always a pleasure to see her friend, so awfully affected by war, smiling so happily. “I’d like to return to the opera, I guess,” she had replied, her lips quirking up. “Though I’ll see where my life takes me.”

Her body goes limp.

Another two bricks fall down, and Edelgard’s vision turns dark before she wakes up again nearby Caspar and Lysithea, the two shielding her and fending off the opposing soldiers.

In the distance she can see Catherine, holding Thunderbrand out and staring down at the three with an amused grin tugging at her lips. The sight is sickening. Edelgard holds her hands out, fixing up a gash on Caspar’s upper arm while he takes a breather against the enemies. The wound slowly fixes itself up.

Lysithea uses a Dark Spikes.

Then Caspar goes back to swinging his axe.

Stunned, Edelgard feels herself stare at her hands. She’d never learnt healing spells before. …Why did she know them now?

Catherine runs forward to the three of them suddenly, when Lysithea finishes off the last Church soldier in the area they’re in.

Caspar barely avoids the hit. Lysithea makes a noise slightly resembling the squeak of a mouse (Mice, running around her while she’s caged in her cell) and Edelgard finds herself slowly backing onto a healing tile.

Catherine and Caspar are fighting, newly donned gauntlets against a heroes relic. Lysithea from behind blasts spell after spell at Catherine, obviously exhausted but the girl is not letting up. Edelgard admires her for that. She’s always admired Lysithea, and her relentlessness to not let her younger age get the best of her.

She’s damn powerful as well.

Everything seems to be good. Everything seems to be fine.

Edelgard takes a deep breath in. Then everything goes to hell.

Caspar gets stabbed in the arm with Thunderbrand. He cries out, staggering back and losing his focus on Catherine. Edelgard cries out too, reaching out to try and use Psychic but it’s no use since Caspar gets stabbed again and again.

A scream of rage comes from Lysithea, and just before she finishes the final blow, the young woman uses a critical Dark Spikes which hits Catherine with perfect accuracy. The knight falls down. Thunderbrand falls out of her hand.

“Caspar,” Edelgard finds herself sobbing, though her voice isn’t actually hers. She sounds like Linhardt. “Caspar, please, Cas-”

A hand touches Edelgard’s (Linhardt, she reminds herself, not that it will do much) and Caspar looks up, smiling dumbly. “I got to fight her,” he croaks. “I…I won too.”

Blood pours from his wounds, the stabs scattered around his body. Edelgard feels the sudden urge to throw up. She holds the bile in. Tears are streaming down her face as she clutches Caspar’s body, pulling him to her chest.

“Caspar…” she repeats, not that her words will do much. “Cas-aspar, I-”

“Shh, Lin.” He reaches up to press a finger against her lips, silencing her. He opens his mouth to speak but his eyes suddenly stare at her unblinkingly. He’s limp in her hold.

“Linhardt…” Lysithea starts to say, reaching forward but Edelgard stands up, still gripping onto Caspar despite how much her arms are trembling under his weight.

She sobs and hates how raw she (Linhardt) sounds right now. Linhardt shouldn’t deserve this. Linhardt who already had so many struggles piled upon the other. Linhardt who needs Caspar, and Caspar who needed Linhardt.

It hurts even more now that she realises the real reason Caspar wasn’t there when Linhardt and Lysithea met up with them, only to meet their immediate downfall after stumbling dazedly too close to Rhea.

Her vision twists and she’s now stumbling along with Hubert, stabbing at each enemy who crosses them with her lance. Behind her she sees Petra, struggling with another Demonic Beast, despite each blast Hubert hits it with.

A claw slices her chest open, and she screams, the sound resonating through Fhirdiad.

She turns back, launching her horse towards the Demonic Beast and digging his lance into a small spot of bare skin where the scales of it didn’t cover.

The Demonic Beast makes a ghastly sound before falling to it’s end.

“Ferdinand!” Hubert yells. “What are you-”

His words are silenced so quickly it’s deafening. His mouth falls agape as a lance finds it’s way through his middle.

Edelgard cries out his name. She sounds so heartbroken it makes her want to burst into tears all over again. Hubert deserved more.

No, she thinks with clenched teeth as she directs her horse towards Hubert’s attacker. They all deserved more. So much more than being swept up by me into this godawful war.

She hates herself for this. She’s never hated herself so much before.

She ends up stabbing at Hubert’s attacker, stabbing again and again until her vision is blurred with blood, sweat and tears. Blood, sweat and tears. Fitting, if not for the situation. Fitting if not for the-

Everything goes black. Once more.

Edelgard opens her eyes to darkness. She’s kneeling on the floor, sobbing, and wailing as the images of her allies, her friends getting murdered in front of her.

“Oh don’t cry,” Sothis soothes, but her sympathy doesn’t seem like real sympathy. “There’s nothing you can do about it now.”

Edelgard staggers up, swaying on her feet, and wipes the tears from her face. She glares angrily at Sothis. But her next words come out in a quiet whisper.

“What happened to Byleth?”

Byleth, who I need, and who I love.

Sothis pauses. Silence hangs in the room like the tension, and it’s only broken when she replies in a broken little whisper “I don’t know.”

Mint green eyes matching mint green hair.

A small smile barely noticeable but still there.

Deadpanning whenever Edelgard makes a joke.

Hugging her, hugging them. Comforting them all.

Her obsession with fishing she never seemed to get over.

Her love for fish that could rival Flayn’s.

Her scream, haunting Edelgard for five years.

“This is going to be a problem,” Sothis mutters. “Your thoughts are solely Byleth-centric. Is there anything else that goes in that strange little mind of yours?” She waves her hand in Edelgard’s general direction in emphasis.

“How long must I stay here for?” Edelgard sighs.

There’s a brighter glint in Sothis’ eyes. Her lips quirk up. “Not too much longer as it seems!” she exclaims, clapping her hands together and standing up. The action reminds Edelgard of when she was a child. Young. Carefree. Innocent.

Oblivious to the blatant cruelness the world harboured.

“El…” A whisper. “El, I know I’m bad with words, but I need you to know you can talk to me.”

Hands clutching hers. A squeeze. Locking eyes.

“My teacher, I…” Averting gaze. Letting go of warm hands. “Now is not the time.”

“It’s always the time if you need help.”

A smile, an obvious façade that doesn’t sell as well as Claude’s ones did. Trembling fingers. Warmth dispersing from memory.

“I am fine. Though I thank you, for taking the time to see if I am okay. I appreciate it.”

Why didn’t she just hold on a little longer?

how was that y’all? hope it wasn’t too long and angsty hahaha

#fe3h #fanfic #edelgard #edeleth #byleth eisner #linhardt von hevring #caspar von bergliez #dorothea arnault #petra macneary #hubert von vestra #ferdinand von aegir #bernadetta von varley #other minor ships #this is just a preview of a fanfic i’ll probably never finish #crimson flower route #spoilers #crimson flower spoilers

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baepsaesbae · 4 years

Text

Ethereal Encounters

Pairing— Angel!Seokjin x Demon!reader

Genre— Smut +18, comedy, light pining, supernatural au, angel au, demon au, time traveling (this was inspired by Good Omens by Neil Gaiman)

Warnings— oral (m and f receiving), explicit unprotected sex, death (but not really important), somewhat religious talk bc well they’re an angel and demon??

Word Count— ~6.3k

Summary— Since the early beginnings of mankind, you have been tasked with overseeing them and ensuring chaos befalls them. However, you meet an angel who has been tasked with the same duties, only obviously he’s supposed to ensure their wellbeing. How will you deal with him?

A/N— Happy Halloween everyone! This fic is part of @bangtanshadowfamily’s project Moonlight Manor. I had a blast writing this, please let me know what you guys think! Thank you so much to @dee-ehn for making such an angelic banner.

The story of Cain and Abel in the biblical Book of Genesis is well known by many throughout countless generations. The basic rundown is that Cain became jealous of Abel and murdered him. Tragic. However, what isn’t well known is that divine powers were involved. This was where it all started between you and him.

“How dare he. You’re the oldest son. You should have God’s favor,” you whispered into Cain’s ear.

As a high order demon, you were tasked with creating calamities for the stupid creatures that God loved oh so very much. What better way to ensure mankind would be doomed than introducing murder. Even better, the murder of ones own brother. Yes, your plan was ingenious.

“You need to gut him. Gut him like you would the animals you eat. God would have no choice but to cherish you instead,” you continued.

You started to feel the hatred swell within Cain. He sprang to his feet and grabbed his hunting knife. He marched out to the field where his brother was and struck him down. You watched all this transpire with a grin of satisfaction painted across your face.

“Oh no. It appears I’m too late,” you heard a disappointed voice behind you.

Whipping around quickly, you turn to see a defeated looking angel. He was quite handsome. He was tall, had broad shoulders, and lips that formed the perfect pout. You despised him the moment you laid eyes on him. Of course, he’s in a corporeal vessel. His true form would be too much for any mortal to see, and they would combust on the spot. Your corporeal vessel was that of a woman. You figured it would make swindling humans easier later on.

“Who the hell are you?” you snarled.

“Me? Oh, I’m the angel Seokjin. I was sent by the higher ups to oversee the progression of mankind. I was told to make sure they weren’t led astray,” the angel rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Interesting. I was sent by my higher ups to make sure that mankind would be led astray,” you muse, “It seems that we have quite the conflict of interests.”

“It would appear so,” the angel had his eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“Well Jin--”

“That’s not my name. It’s Seokjin--”

“I don’t care. That’s too long.”

“Too long? It’s two syllables!”

“Who has that kind of time, Jin? Not me. Anywho, my work here is done. Since this place is under both of our jurisdictions, maybe I’ll see you around sometime,” you gave the angel a wink before vanishing from the scene.

That was your first of many encounters with the angel Seokjin.

200 CE

The crowd roared with fervor as the gladiators fought to the death. You were one of the happy spectators watching a man get pummeled to death with the butt of a sword. As the man’s skull was caving in, you heard someone sigh beside you.

“There’s no need to be that cruel. He should cut off the poor fellow’s head and just end it already,” you heard a man say.

“That wouldn’t please this crowd at all. They’re all here because they want to see a spectacle. Chopping someone’s head off at the beginning of the fight would be sooo boring,” you turn to the disgruntled man, “I mean, you gotta pay to watch so--oh my god it’s you.”

The angel beside you was just as radiant as on the first day you met him. Even dressed in Roman apparel, you could tell there was something otherworldly about him. The angel returned the same shock as his eyes grew wide when they landed on you.

“You! You’re the one who started the downfall of man!” he accused.

“Well actually it was the snake that tempted Eve. I wish I could take credit for that. What have you been up to? Jin right?” you greet him as if he were an old friend, slinging your arm around him.

“Wrong. My name is Seokjin. I’ve been overseeing mankind. As I was instructed to,” Seokjin answered while trying to wiggle out of your grasp, “But it seems like no matter what I do, humans always resort to violence. You must be very good at your job.”

“They’re all shitbags like that. It makes my job so easy! I don’t even have to lift a finger,” you brag.

“There are some humans who have nothing but love and compassion for other living creatures--”

“Gross,” you interject.

“--so my faith in humanity is not lost. I think I’ve begun to realize why Father is so fond of them,” Seokjin rations.

“What’s your reasoning?” you inquire.

“Humans like to resort to violence quite often, like you said. But they also like to love and cherish those important to them. I think the free will that they have makes them remarkable,” Seokjin is lost in his own thoughts.

“An angel who has his own opinions? Dangerous territory buddy,” you laugh.

“Oh? Why is that dangerous?” Seokjin’s face contorted in confusion.

“Nevermind. Forget what I said. See ya around, Jin,” you’re about to disappear before Jin called out to you.

“Wait! You know my name, but I don’t know yours. That hasn’t been sitting well with me for the past couple centuries,” Seokjin shyly confessed.

“Aw, you’ve been thinking of me for centuries? What a sweetheart. I’m ___, Mother of Murder, Enslaver of Mankind, and Tamer of Dragons,” you bow.

“Tamer of Dragons? I’ve never seen one,” Seokjin tilted his head.

“Probably because they’re not real and I was messing with you. The other titles are real though. I’m kind of a bigshot downstairs. That’s why they keep me up here. See ya around, angel,” you vanish out of sight.

“___. She doesn’t really seem like the demons I’ve been told about,” Seokjin pondered.

You had a couple more run ins with the angel Seokjin, but unfortunately they were all in passing. The two of you would catch a fleeting glimpse of the other before one of you would vanish. Your time on Earth was starting to bore you. Up until you decided to wreck some havoc.

1350 CE

The black plague, also known as the Black Death, was sweeping across Europe. It had already taken millions of lives, and still had more to go. This catastrophic pandemic was beyond devastating. And you couldn’t be happier. Cart after cart rolled through towns and villages, each one filled with the bodies of the deceased or nearly deceased. The screams of those in agony was music to your ears. You skipped cheerfully along the streets. You couldn’t be more pleased with yourself. After all, the Black Death was your brainchild.

“___!” you stop in your tracks.

“Jin? Jin! How lovely to see you,” you greet him with a warm smile. You started to grow fond of him through the years. His curiosity and sincerity always amused you.

“It’s Seokjin, not Jin. I’m honestly quite worried,” Seokjin sighed.

“About? The humans?” you peer up at him.

“Yes. This plague has gotten out of hand. Sure, humans get sick and die all the time. They’re frightfully delicate. But this? Millions upon millions dead? This must be the work of some...some sort of demon!” Seokjin exclaims before calming himself, “I apologize for my outburst. This whole situation is just too worrisome.”

“You’re right. You must be a sleuth or something,” you say nonchalantly.

“What? Right about what?” Seokjin’s eyes widen.

“This IS the work of a demon. Me! This is all my doing! Pretty impressive no?” the horrified look on Seokjin’s face encouraged you to continue, “So get this. I was bored outta my mind one day, right? Then I started thinking about all the organisms on this planet. From tall to small. Then I realized that bugs are completely on the bottom of the food chain. Very unfair, wouldn’t you say?”

“I suppose so, but God intended--”

“Sure sure whatever. I took it upon myself to give bugs a little advantage. Specifically, fleas. I experimented for a bit then settled on giving some of them the ability to infect their prey! Truth be told, I had no idea that the rats they sucked on would become feral. I just thought they’d get sick and die a horrible death or something. Who would’ve thought they’d go around biting humans? Am I the best or am I the best?” you wiggled your eyebrows at Seokjin, who was still staring at you with horror.

“You caused all of this, ___? And it was all an accident?” Seokjin was trying to process what you told him.

“Yeah basically. All because I wanted to make the playing field a little more fair for fleas,” you nodded.

“That’s funny,” Seokjin said curtly.

“Oh yeah? What amuses you so, my angel?” you ask playfully.

“You wanted to help fleas. Fleas. Some would say it was an act of compassion,” Seokjin grins.

“What? No! No, I was just bored. I thought it would be something I could occupy myself with. Don’t look too deep into it, Jin,” you turn away, in hopes of hiding your flushed cheeks.

“Sure sure. Whatever you say, ___. At least you’re probably getting high praises in Hell,” he pats your head fondly.

“Shut up, angel,” you say before vanishing. You couldn’t take the embarrassment any longer. Compassion? From you? No way in Heaven. And what was that? Jin patting your head like you’re some sort of friends? Even though he was growing on you like a tumor, you hadn’t considered him a friend before. Well. Maybe you had. You just didn’t want to admit it. Life can get pretty lonely on Earth for an immortal being. At least you guys have that in common.

In an attempt to befriend Seokjin, you searched for him. Up until now, it has always been him sneaking up on you. You found him in a small village that had just about been completely wiped out by the Black Death.

“Hey angel,” you pipe up, causing him to jump.

“Ah! ___! Hello, you scared me. What can I do for you?” Seokjin smiled, his cheeks bunching up like fresh bread.

“I was wondering if you’d like to get a bite to eat? We can sneak into the nearest Royal family’s kitchen and find something good?” you ask, looking at the ground.

“Eat? We don’t have to do that though,” the angel’s signature confused face took hold.

“Yes I know that. But we’re on Earth now and until the end of time. Or until we get called back. Might as well indulge in Earthly pleasures right?” you try to reason. Your pride would be hurt if he declined.

“Indulge? Isn’t that sinful?” Seokjin said apprehensively.

“I didn’t realize a loaf of bread was sinful. I’ll be right back, just gotta drag yeast into Hell,” you mock. To your surprise, Seokjin laughed. As corny as it is, his laugh sounded like a mixture of bells and a choir of angels. It was truly euphoric.

“To be quite honest, food is one of my favorite things on Earth. I’m fond of desserts in particular. Hearing you suggest eating made me reconsider if it’s a sin or not. But you’re right. A bite of food won’t hurt anyone!” Seokjin concluded gleefully.

That was the start to the tradition of eating together after every encounter.

1943 CE

Although technically mortal enemies, you both enjoyed the companionship now and again. Hearing about each other’s lives never got boring. Seokjin himself was somewhat of an enigma to you. He was childlike in the sense that he was curious about everything, and loved learning about new things. He was also simultaneously serious about everything. Any time he tried to make a joke, it was always lost on you. You soon learned to fake a laugh for him because...because you kind of liked the way his eyes lit up when he was pleased with himself. He always found you entertaining. He admired your confidence. You were the epitome of devious, but even so, Seokjin believed that there was some good in you. You in turn believed there must be some bad in him. At least enough that allowed him to continuously hangout with a demon.

You sat alone in a German cafe, gazing out the window on a gloomy day. You listened intently to the conversation behind you. Nazi soldiers were discussing the satisfying feeling that accompanied terrorizing those who didn’t belong in Hitler’s utopia. You scoffed as you bit into your streusel coffee cake.

“Mind if I sit here?” a familiar voice asked.

“Jin, my darling angel friend, of course you can sit there. I wouldn’t dare let anyone else sit with me,” you smile mischievously.

“It’s Seokjin. Not Jin. Why must we go over this every time?” Seokjin sighed.

“I think the nickname puts us on friendlier terms,” you devour what’s left of your cake, “Oh sorry, did you want some of that?”

“Should an angel and a demon be on friendly terms? And no thank you. Actually, I brought you a little surprise,” Seokjin makes a small decadent box appear from thin air, “These are your favorites, if I recall correctly.”

Your eyes grew wide as you received the box, “Is this…? JIN!!! I haven’t had these in ages!” you cheer gleefully as you open the top.

A familiar sight of perfectly baked macarons laid gracefully within. All your favorite flavors were there: coffee, chocolate, lemon, and other delectable flavors. You breathe in the sweet scent of the goods before choosing your first target. You sway happily as you take the first bite.

“Gift giving is definitely something that friends do,” you say with your mouth still full, “Would you like some?” you offer the other half of the coffee macaron.

“Then I suppose we are friends, ___. I’m happy I ran into you. There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about,” Jin takes the other half of the macaron, “World War I was atrocious enough. But now all of this World War II business is even more despicable. I was wondering if you had an idea about when this will end. It has been breaking my heart to see all of this horror unfold.”

“So the macarons were a peace offering for information?” your eyes narrowed, chocolate macaron in hand.

“I was in the little French village that made your favorites and thought it would be nice to bring you some. Talking about World War II was actually an afterthought,” Seokjin said. That made you chuckle. Jin was being honest; he’s incapable of lying. If he ever tried, it would never work on you because he was god awful at it.

“I’ll believe you for now, angel. To be honest, the humans did this themselves. I was sightseeing in Mongolia when Germany invaded Poland. I knew that Hitler guy was no good-- I specialize in that-- but he’s damn near as evil as a certified demon. I can’t take credit for any of this. I like creating chaos. It’s what I do. But I find this highly organized genocide distasteful,” you admit.

“A demon finding genocide distasteful? Amusing. See? There must be some goodness left in you. I guess you don’t know when this will end then?” Seokjin asks.

“Not a clue. And don’t you ever say that I have goodness. That’s bullshit. I’m the baddest of the bad. Don’t forget that,” you sneer.

“There’s no need to get hostile, my friend. I should get going. I’ve been trying to help the victims in any way that I can. Needless to say, it has been very busy for the past few years. This was a nice little break. It’s always a pleasure to see you,” Seokjin smiles and bows respectfully before disappearing out of sight.

“The pleasure is all mine, my darling angel,” you say quietly to the empty space before you.

Present Day

“That girl over there looks rather ravishing, doesn’t she? It’s a shame that she’s here instead of your girlfriend. Unless…,” you pour thoughts of infidelity in a random guy’s mind.

You sensed that he was nervous the entire night, and after observing him for a bit, you finally realized why. This man was out clubbing with his friends in celebration of someone’s birthday. His girlfriend isn’t one for going out (or having any sort of fun, from what you can gather in his mind) and he’s been eyeing this one gal the entire night. He was on the fence about whether or not to make a move. Luckily for him, you were in the vicinity that night. The alcohol pumping through his veins made him even more susceptible to your persuasions. You only spoke those few words to him before he made his way over to the girl, who immediately proceeded to grind on him.

“Infidelity huh?” a familiar voice said.

“It’s the easiest sin for men to commit. Women are too tempting for those who can’t control their lust. And by that, I mean probably 99% of all male humans,” you shrug, “It’s my duty to lead humans astray, remember?”

“Of course, how could I forget?,” Seokjin chuckled, “It’s amusing to me that the one who caused the Black Death is now sitting in a dingy nightclub telling intoxicated men to cheat on their significant other.”

“Would you rather me tell him to murder her? Would that please you, Jin?” you raise an eyebrow threateningly.

“Oh dear heavens, no. Please don’t do that. But if you were to do that, I can always intervene and protect the poor girl. And please. It’s Seokjin, not Jin,” the angel pouted. You loved his pout, it made his supple lips look even more delectable. Wait. What are you thinking?

The two of you sat in a booth inside the dimly lit nightclub. After ordering multiple rounds of drinks, Seokjin finally felt loose enough to strike up a conversation. You had been too lost in your thoughts regarding how you felt about your angelic companion to talk.

“How have you been, ___?” Seokjin asked.

“Same as ever. Chillin out, traveling, creating mischief wherever I go. My favorite thing to do nowadays is to fuck up cell phone receptions in really popular areas. The animosity goes through the roof!” you explain.

“Sounds...exciting,” Seokjin takes another sip.

“What about you, angel cakes?” you gaze at him fondly.

“My flower shop has been coming along beautifully! I mean, I want to keep all of the flowers for myself but I guess part of running a business is selling your goods. You should come by and see it. I even have some nightshade. I thought of you when I acquired it,” Seokjin smiled.

“Stop, you’ll make me blush. I’ll come and visit your shop soon,” you finish your drink, “It kinda sucks though,”

“The drink? We can order another--”

“Not that. I’m living the best life I could possibly ask for. The world is literally my playground. But I’m kinda bored. I’ve plunged from the Mother of Murder to inciting infidelity just for the drama. I feel like I’m burnt out,” you pout, sinking into the booth.

“Maybe finding a hobby could help? I like plants, so now I collect and sometimes sell them. What do you like? Come to think of it, I don’t think I really know much about you at all,” Seokjin realizes.

“I’m hurt. We’ve been friends for what? About 6000 years?” you dramatically grasped your chest.

“Friends? You consider me a friend?”

“Are we not?” you retorted.

“I suppose we are. What an unlikely friendship. And one that our bosses will never know about,” Seokjin grins, “Can I ask you something? As a friend?”

“Sure thing. Jin, my best friend in the whole wide world, what do you want?” you bat your eyes at him.

“How did you fall from Grace?”

Hearing the question sobered you up immediately. You never thought Jin would care about you enough to ask such a personal inquiry. It’s akin to asking someone ‘hey, what’s the most traumatic thing that ever happened to you?’ out of the blue. You were staring at your empty cup when Jin spoke up.

“I’m sorry if I crossed a line. I’ve just been so curious--”

“It’s fine. I was just shocked that you wanted to know me on a more personal level,” you laugh nervously.

“Why wouldn’t I? We’re friends,” Seokjin said seriously.

You take a deep breath before answering, “I was curious. Just like you. I didn’t understand why God was so obsessed with the stupid little humans. They were so vile, so vulgar. Even if they knew right from wrong, they sometimes willingly chose what was wrong. I was confounded. Apparently asking questions is the same as undermining His authority. They thought I was going to grow my own free will. An angel who can think for themselves is a threat. And so, down I went. It was a pretty long fall actually. The landing was pretty unpleasant,” you try to lighten up the story.

“I’m sorry, ___,” Jin took a hold of your hands, “At least you still have the wings of an angel.”

“Yeah but they’re all black and tattered now. Yours are still beautiful and pristine.”

“I think your wings are beautiful too,” Seokjin said softly. You realized he was still holding your hands. You slowly retreat from his grasp. You don’t know how to handle the praise coming from the angel.

“Thanks, my darling angel. Anyway. This place is getting kinda boring. You wanna get dessert?” you suggest.

“You know me so well!” Seokjin agreed.

You found yourselves in a nearby gelato shop. You treat yourself to a coffee gelato, while Jin got chocolate gelato. The pair of you opt to sit outside and soak in the city life.

“I thought you didn’t like chocolate? I remember you turning your nose up to the best chocolate I’ve had in my life when we were in Switzerland,” you noticed his chocolate gelato.

“I like the chocolate flavor, but I don’t like chocolate,” Jin said casually, “I love strawberries, but I don’t like strawberry flavored things.”

“You’re so strange,” you let out a laugh. Jin laughed with you, his stoic image started to fade away. Afterward, you both sat comfortably in silence. Being in each other’s company was satisfying. It helped ease the loneliness that you refused to admit you had. Pondering your loneliness alongside your friend had your thoughts drifting to an interesting concept.

“Do you remember that time we decided to indulge in Earthly pleasures for the first time all those years ago? That decision was probably the best I’ve ever made. I love food,” you break the silence.

“I do remember that. I think I’m obliged to say that doing the Lord’s work was the best decision I’ve ever made. But I guess I didn’t really have a choice,” his voice trailed off, “Besides that, eating food with you was probably my best decision too,” Jin smiled, revealing his bread cheeks.

“What if we indulge in a different Earthly pleasure tonight?” you suggest calmly, licking at your gelato.

“Other than food? What do you mean?” Seokjin’s eyes widened with curiosity.

“Haven’t you wondered why lust is such a strong motivating factor for humans?”

“I believe they reproduce for the survival of their species--”

“That’s not what I mean, you silly little angel. I’ve heard from several succubi that they really enjoy sex and--”

“Lust is a sin, ___. It’s literally one of the seven deadly sins,” Seokjin interrupted sternly.

“I said that humans are driven by lust. If we hypothetically partake in this, it would be for research reasons only. Wouldn’t you be of better service to mankind if you could understand them better?” you reason.

Frankly, you don’t give a damn about mankind. Never have and never will. The thought of getting intimate with the angel Seokjin has sparked an excitement in you that you hadn’t felt in ages. Persuasion is your forte, and you’re sure as hell gonna do your best to win him over. Seokjin was silent as he pondered over your proposal. His face was unreadable.

“I’ll admit I have been curious about it. I don’t understand why humans crave it so much,” Seokjin admitted. A smile slowly formed on your face.

“Does that mean you’ll indulge with me? Just as you did when we ate together all those moons ago?” you take his hands in yours.

“Fine, ___. I’ll indulge with you. But purely for research purposes,” Seokjin said firmly.

This city had been your dwelling place for the past couple of years so you had your own place. You giddily led the angel to your apartment. You had been waiting for this moment for what felt like an eternity. Seduction wasn’t part of your job, so you never partook in such activities. It was mischief alone that was your specialty.

When you finally arrived at your apartment, you instructed Jin to wait outside for a couple of minutes while you tidied up the place. With a snap of your fingers, your humble abode was free of any trash and not a speck of dust was to be found. After wondering about what would help set “the mood”, you decided on lighting candles. You figured the dim lighting would help create a sensual atmosphere. The final touch was slipping into promiscuous black lingerie. You had a complete set: stockings, garter, corset, and a bra. You twirled in front of a mirror and was satisfied with the look. You felt like the epitome of a seductress. You made your way to the front door and swung it open, striking a seductive pose. You nearly burst out into a fit of laughter when you saw Jin’s eyes wide with shock and mouth agape.

“You...you look...nice,” Jin stuttered.

“Come on in, my darling angel,” you waved a single finger at him.

Seokjin timidly stepped inside. You took his hand and led him to your bedroom; the walkway was lined with candles. You closed the bedroom door behind Jin as you heard him gulp nervously.

“You scared, Jin?” you teased. Jin couldn’t make eye contact with you. You could barely see his faint blush in the dim lighting.

“No. Maybe a bit nervous. I thought we would just get down to it,” Jin let out an annoyed sigh before finally making eye contact, “And it’s Seokjin. Not Jin.”

“Go straight to fucking? Without foreplay? Aw you really are such a little angel, aren’t you? You sweet sweet vanilla baby boy,” with each word you crept closer to him, eventually wrapping your arms around his neck. He smelled like a mixture of warm honey and wildflowers. His scent was intoxicating. You couldn’t resist any longer as you planted a gentle kiss on his neck, causing him to groan lightly.

“Oh? You like that?” you whispered sweetly.

“I never realized our corporeal bodies were so sensitive,” Jin replied quietly.

“You’re still so tense, angel,” you observed as you massaged his broad shoulders, “I can help you unwind. Part of the fun of sex is indulging in the pleasure, so I’ve heard,” you say as you guide Jin to the bed.

“Let’s make some things clear,” you say as you straddle Jin, “Firstly, you can touch me. I don’t wanna be doing all the work. Secondly, don’t be afraid to act on any urges. I can assure you I can handle whatever you wanna do. Lastly, do you trust me?” you ask. Jin blinked blankly.

“Generally, I’m pretty sure a demon is never to be trusted. But since it’s you, I guess I’ll make an exception. I trust you, ___,” Jin said sincerely.

“I’m touched,” you smile, “Now take off your shirt and pants,” you demand, climbing off of him. Jin complied. Left in only his underwear, he sat on the bed awaiting your next instructions. You soaked in the sight of him. He was fit; his physique had your mouth watering.

“Perfect,” you say, seductively crawling back on top of him.

You lock eyes as you straddle his hips. You lean in slowly, eyes wandering to his plush lips. Jin does the same, leaning towards you ever so slightly. Your lips met gently. After relishing the tender moment, you kiss him more intensely. To your surprise, Jin met you with the same intensity. His hands started to wander as well. Starting with a firm grip on your ass, his hands traveled slowly up to your breasts.

“I don’t think I can fully appreciate you with all this on,” Jin breathed heavily after he broke from the kiss.

“What a cheeky angel. Be patient, love,” you notice a change in Jin’s eyes. There was an intense gaze of lust pouring from his dark brown eyes. It turned you on.

You laid him down and whispered, “Now the fun can begin.”

A blindfold manifested out of thin air and into your hand. Jin looked at the object curiously. He didn’t protest when you wrapped it over his eyes. You smiled at the fact that he truly did trust you.

You kissed him again. You couldn’t get enough of his velvety soft lips. You dared to slip your tongue in his mouth delicately. Seokjin pulled you closer to him as he reciprocated with more aggression. His boldness caused you to let out a small moan.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Seokjin stopped immediately after he heard you. His genuine concern caused you to chuckle.

“I don’t think you’re capable of hurting me, sweet boy. Keep doing what you’re doing,” you say before going back for another kiss.

You reluctantly pull away from Jin’s sweet lips, gently placing wet kisses down his neck and along his chest. You kitten lick one of his nipples as you pinch and twist the other. Jin seemed to enjoy this as his breathing became uneven and he let out tiny moans.

You travel further down to position yourself between his thighs. His erection was obstructed by his underwear. You tug it off, allowing it to free itself. The length was impressive, and his girth was just as satisfying.

You slowly started pumping your hand along his shaft. As soon as you held him, Jin shuddered. You were amused by how sensitive he was. You gave his tip a few kitten licks as you hand was still slowly dragging along his cock. This caused Jin to shift underneath you, and his soft moans were getting louder. You stopped teasing him as you took his entire length in your mouth. Being a divine being gave you small perks such as not having a gag reflex. You sloppily bobbed your head up and down his cock, listening to his sweet groans of pleasure. Hands soon grip your hair, and now Jin was guiding your rhythm.

“Ahh ___... I think I’m gonna...my body feels weird,” Jin muttered between groans.

Without warning, Jin released his load into your mouth. You were surprised by the sudden outburst and pulled away too late. What didn’t land in your mouth splattered all over your chest.

“Huh. So angels can ejaculate. Wild,” you say, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, “You don’t taste half bad, angel. But you did get my lingerie messy,” you tsked.

“I think I’m starting to understand why humans enjoy this so much. Sorry about your clothes, I guess you have to take them off now,” Jin proposed.

“I suppose you’re right,” you chuckle. With a snap of your fingers, the lingerie magically vanishes.

“I wanna feel what you felt,” you whined.

“Do you want me to fuck you now?” Jin asked.

“What else would you do?” you teased.

“You could sit on my face and I can reciprocate the oral sex,” Jin offered.

His straightforward way of talking never ceased to amaze you. It was no surprise that he would talk this way even in the bedroom. You grinned as you positioned your thighs on each side of his head.

“You sure about this?” you ask.

“Sit on my face, ___,” Jin said impatiently.

You slowly lowered yourself onto Jin’s face. You carefully made sure you that the lips lined up. You rested your intimate part gently on Jin’s lips. You shuddered with delight as he licked a long gentle strip along your pussy. Jin began to explore you with his tongue.

“You’re still too far away,” he grunts as he places his hands on your hips and roughly pulls you closely to him.

His nose was buried in your pussy at this point. He darted his tongue in and out of you, causing you to gasp. He brought his hand around to play with a nub located above your opening. Somehow, he figured out that this little nub was extremely sensitive, as you nearly doubled over when he applied pressure on it. You could faintly hear a low chuckle under you as the pressure on your clit increased. Jin’s thumb ferociously played with your clit as his tongue flicked inside you. Your legs began to shake and your moans got louder and more drawn out.

“Jin! Fuck that feels amazing. Don’t stop. My body is starting to feel weird too,” you cry out.

Soon enough, a wave of euphoria coursed throughout your body as you released your juices all over his face. You fell beside him, chest heaving.

“How was that?” Jin asked, licking around his mouth, “You don’t taste too bad yourself, Mother of Murder.”

“You flatter me, angel. You didn’t correct me when I said Jin!” you observed, taking off his blindfold.

“I actually thought it was pleasant. Hearing you moan out my nickname like that spurred me on for some reason,” Jin sighed.

“Oh so you like when I moan out your name? You’re such a naughty angel,” you jokingly admonish, “We still haven’t gotten to the finale yet.”

“Do you want me to fuck you now?” Jin asked.

“Yes, my darling angel. I want you to fuck me now,” you say curtly, “How do you want to take my virginity?” you bat your eyes innocently at him, spreading your legs out.

“Like this would be fine. I think I’d enjoy seeing your face,” Jin leaned down for a passionate kiss, complete with tasteful tongue usage.

Breaking the kiss, he aligned himself with your entrance. He gazed at you tenderly before you nodded at him, signaling for him to proceed. He slowly slipped inside, and you relished every inch of him. The new sensation of the stretch was a bit painful at first, but it soon was replaced with a foreign bliss. You let out a low moan when he finally bottomed out. Eyes fixated on each other, Jin wordlessly began to thrust in and out of you. The bliss was enjoyable, but you craved more. Jin was going too slowly for your taste (even though it was an impressive pace already by human standards).

“Faster. Harder. Fuck me harder, Jin,” you pleaded, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood.

Jin complied, now thrusting with more force at a faster rate. Jin was having a hard time controlling himself, as his grunts started to mix with your moans. You clawed at his back, leaving red streaks across it. Jin suddenly hoisted one of your legs over his shoulder, allowing him to plunge deeper. You let out a high pitched squeal at the sudden switch up. You began to feel a familiar tingle in your lower region.

“Jin, I’m close,” you panted.

“Me too, my darling demon. Let’s finish together, shall we?” Jin replied, sweat dripping from his brow.

It only took a couple more thrusts before you both reached your limits. You felt Jin’s hot cum fill you up as he let out a final groan. You could barely hear him over your own lewd cry as your orgasm hit you hard. As your juices mixed, Jin collapsed on top of you. You wrapped your arms around him and held him tenderly against your chest. You laid together in silence for a while with synchronized breathing before Jin broke the silence.

“Do you think I’ll fall from Grace now? I indulged in the sin of lust. I don’t think the guys upstairs will understand that it was for research purposes,” Jin sounded worried.

“Do you regret it?” you asked quietly.

“Oddly enough, no. It was fun. I’m just worried because I’ve been an angel since the beginning of time. I don’t know how I’ll be anything else,” Jin admitted.

“Have your superiors ever checked up on you since they plopped you onto Earth?”

“Only once, close to the beginning. I never realized that they never check up on me. Does this mean they won’t find out?” Jin’s voice started to pick up.

“I won’t tell your superiors if you don’t tell mine! Although, I don’t think mine would care that much,” you laugh, hugging Jin closer to you.

“Deal. Wow, I really just made a deal with a devil huh?” Jin laughed at his own joke. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and kiss him on the forehead.

“You know...we don’t have to part ways just yet. Stay the night. Let’s snuggle together and pretend we’re humans in love,” you whisper to him.

“Sure, I’ll stay the night. You don’t have to be human to know what love is, you know?” Jin crept up to kiss you gently.

“Shut up, angel. No more mushy talk. Just cuddle me and so I can fall asleep faster,” you snapped.

You switch positions so that you could nuzzle yourself into Jin’s chest. You both fell asleep in each other’s embrace, in each other’s arms and wings. You’ve never felt more at peace than this moment, in which you and Jin were entangled in each other’s wings. Neither of you noticed it, but your wings got a little lighter that night. Neither of your noticed, but Jin’s wings got a little darker that night.

#bts smut #kim seokjin smut #creaturesofmm #bangtanshadowfamily #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #good omens #angel bts #demon bts #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic #bts angst #bts comedy #kim seokjin x reader

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makanidotdot · 4 years

Text

I would like to share the story of “Hush, Tyrande”.

It occurs in one of the Caverns of Time dungeons, Well of Eternity, where you go back to the first demon invasion and fight with Illidan and later Tyrande to right the past or whatever. Tyrande helps you on the final boss, then Malfurion, who’s done dick all, shows up at the end and replies to Tyrande saying “Malfurion-!” with “HUSH Tyrande. Where is Illidan?”

It’s a single line in the game at the end of a dungeon, why does it matter? Well, there were articles written about it, Blizzard had to change a boat name because of it, at least one guild is named after it. It’s solidly achieved meme status in the community. Collapsed-vacuum skulled dudebros HUEHUEHEU about it because a woman (and significant other) is getting told to shut up. Everyone else is like wow, I guess Malfurion is an asshole, or, he’s not supposed to be an asshole, and Blizz is just stupid or sexist and doesn’t realize how bad it sounds.

Welp, now that I am cursed with the knowledge of the awful but endearing WOTA books from which this scene is taken word for word from, I feel like I should shed some light on what must have actually occurred to make that dungeon performance the way it is. Especially because, in all my googling, I see people making jokes about the line, I see people complain about it and how horrible Malfurion is, there’s people complaining that people would complain about it....but I could not find anyone point out the fact that IT’S ACTUALLY COMPLETELY WRONG AND NOT WHAT HAPPENS IN THE BOOK.

I'm reminded of this old gem:

So, here’s the scene: The Sundering had just begun, the Well is starting to go apeshit. The following scene is Azshara making her deal with N’zoth, so yeah. Tyrande and Ilidan are trying to make their way out of the city, as they are very close to the well. Malfurion shows up on Ysera to get them out. Malfurion has not seen either of them in person since the previous book, when Tyrande was captured and he got all guilty and depressed. Anyway, here you go, slightly edited to remove exposition Knaak is inexplicably putting in at the end of the book. I have provided some visuals.

So. Just in case someone wants to argue that it’s still him telling her to shut up, let me also say that, this author uses “Hush” a lot. He never uses “Shh”, or you know.. describes what doesn’t need to be voiced (lol). I don’t want to subject yall to more Knaakwardness than I need too, but it’s clear this is meant to be comforting and kind based on the rest of his writing. In fact, an example is when the reverse situation occurs in the previous book, after Malf gets punched in the brain by Archimonde:

Like, she’s actually being sweet to him in this scene. She is not telling him to STFU.

But as you might imagine...... with no context, and if you’d never read any of the books and JUST read what was in quotation marks.... you could easily think uh I guess he’s telling her to be quiet. So, this was a case of whatever game “”“”writer”””” was directing the recording session definitely had not read the books, didn’t know or care what the context was, and must have just thought it was a given Malfurion would talk to Tyrande like that.

And you MIGHT also think that all the stuff Illidan is saying in this dungeon is just supposed to just be cool and edgy, and NOT being said by a lil whiny shit who’s been being a total tool to Tyrande throughout this escape and blaming all their problems on Malfurion. As a nice little bit of final irony, a lot of responses to Well of Eternity Malfurion is “See! Shoulda picked Illidan!”, while, at one point in the book, Illidan is LITERALLY silences Tyrande with magic because he gets annoyed with her.

What I’m trying to say is.... the Well of Eternity dungeon was ghost directed by Illidan.

But I am also saying the dungeon is one hilarious, blatant example of someone just writing down out of context lines and devs not knowing lore and characters or giving a shit.

THank you for coming to my tebtalk

#WOTA #tyrande #malfurion #illidan #tyrande and malfurion forget about illidan ALL the time #it's SO fucking funny #long post #worthy of 4am

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randomrosewrites · 4 years

Text

An eternity more

AO3

A special Alastor x reader fic just in time for Halloween!

Word count: 2000

Warnings: Mild language

Summary: Alastor and his partner celebrate Halloween.

In Hell, there was one day a year in which the usual brutality and gore that occurred was not only just commonplace, but treated as a festivity.

Halloween. Sometimes referred to as Hallow’s eve, or Samhain.

Every circle always had some type of event going on. Violence had fighting matches all throughout the day. Gluttony had haunted house walks and tours in their suicide forests. Even unpopular circles like Limbo got into the Halloween spirit by having small carvals pop up here and there.

For the denizens of Hell, Halloween was a day where every sicko, nutjob, and crazy could find something that tickled their fancy.

On a night of such horrors, many people expected that of the Radio Demon to be doing something horribly violent; Engaged in some form of terrorism or inspiring fear into the masses via one of his broadcast.

Instead, though-

“Darling! Look over here, they’ve got handmade masks!” Alastor says to you, excitedly dragging you along the streets of Pentagram city.

-he’s quite the opposite

While Alastor was more than happy to spend his nights prowling the streets and seeing the fear ignite in people’s eyes, he enjoyed other things besides that. He wasn’t entirely diabolical. Why go around causing chaos like some petty ruffian when there were other superior activities to engage in?

Tonight, as you walk the streets alongside him, the city is busier than ever. The night sky is stained a dark garnet and the cold air makes you snuggle closer into your coat. Pedestrians pack together in the streets, a huge mass of limbs and bodies.

Vendors and shops have their doors wide open, showing off their merchandise or advertising for one thing or another. There’s food stalls, costume shops, drug vending machines, antique stores, and the like. Alastor zig zags from stall to stall, checking out every and anything that catches his eye.

His own usual outfit is changed for the event, instead of the normal red he’s changed into a dark burgundy, so dark it almost looks brown. One of his red-gloved hands holds yours, dragging you along with him. You have to nearly run to keep up with his long strides.

He comes to a stop, the action so sudden you bump into him.

“Ow - why’d you stop-”

You look at the building you’ve stopped in front of. A bright neon sign reads ‘The House of Haunted Horrors’

A bloody haunted house.

Alastor looks at you, excitement shining in his eyes. “Shall we go in?”

“Al, you know I get scared easily-”

“Great!” he says before you can finish, dragging you through along with him into the entrance.

“No, wait! - Oh my god no Alastor, Alastor!” you protest to no avail.

After a brief talk with the receptionist, (who’s eyes nearly bulged out of their skull when they saw him) you’re ushered into another room where the attraction begins.

The employee tells you the backstory for the situation. You’re a scientist trapped in an underground laboratory where demons were experimented on. After a sudden outbreak has cut off all power and communication, you’ve got to find the exit before the creatures in the dark can get to you first.

You’re utterly horrified. Alastor’s delighted.

She hands you each a flashlight and wishes you good luck before closing the door and leaving you to begin.

“Well, let’s get going, shall we?” Alastor takes your hand (Which you cling onto tightly), flicking on his flashlight and starting down the hallway.

The hallway is dark and grimy. The flashlight can’t shine very far so you can only see whats a few feet ahead of you at a time. Your footsteps echo through the eerily quiet corridor. The only sound is of your tense breathing and your heartbeat in your ears.

“I hate this, I hate this-” you groan, latching yourself onto Alastor’s side and burying your face in his coat.

“Don’t worry darling, it’ll be fun!” he reassures you, patting you on the back. It’s at that moment that a hollow groan rings through the hallway, making your entire body tense.

“Oh fuck - I hate this, I hate this-” you hiss.

“What about this do you hate?” Alastor asks, keeping one arm around you and one on the flashlight. “The dark? The feeling of not knowing what lies ahead? The weight of-”

“Al,” you snap. “Not. Helping.”

You can hear the smile in his voice. “Apologies. I couldn’t help myself. Fear is a wonderful emotion on you, dear.”

Though for as much as he teases you, you can by the way he keeps a firm grip on you and the whispered assurances he utters periodically that he does care about you. You also know he wouldn’t hesitate to get you out of there if you truly were terrified.

The two of you explore different hallways and rooms, slowly making your way through the attraction. You pass by corpses (that you hope are just fake) covered in blood, scratch marks on the walls ripping up the wallpaper, dismembered limbs, empty cages and cells, and other grotesque, creepy sights.

In one room, you open the door to see a stuffed bear sitting on a chair in the far corner. When you enter and explore the room, you look back to find that the beat has moved towards you.

Yeah, no.

“Fuck this, fuck this, fuck this-” You run out of there as fast as possible, slamming the door behind you. Alastor laughs at your reaction, jogging to catch up to you.

You continue further into the attraction. Occasionally a gust of wind or a nearby whisper will make you whip around and press closer to Alastor, heart hammering in your chest, but you’ve seen no actors yet. Are there any? Or have they all been scared into immobilization?

You’ve just about let your guard down when you open the door to the next room and are met with a looming, black figure standing in the corridor.

They’re tall, much taller than you, with long black limbs and two glowing eyes. You’re so surprised at the creature’s sudden appearance that you don’t even think to scream. From the mass of black, a cavern opens up - its mouth - emitting a hisss sound. When the figure reaches out towards you, your mind goes blank with terror.

Behind you, you can feel Alastor’s form shift.

One note about Alasotr’s demon form - you’d seen it hundreds of times before. You’d seen his pupils go black, seen him stretch until he was a tall, lanky stick figure with teeth that took up half of his face more times than you can count.

A lot of things might scare you, but Alastor doesn’t.

But it definitely scares the worker. He drops his act, taking off into the darkness like his life depended on it.

When you look at Alastor again, he’s returned to normal. He has the same smile on his face, but he seems slightly disappointed.

“How pitiable.” he murmurs, before saying to you in a much lighter tone. “Shall we continue?”

There’s little else to the haunted house. A few more creepy sounds and flashes of moving figures from the corner of your eyes, but nothing else quite like the cryptid in the doorway.

When you finally do exit into the noisy streets of the city, you breathe and sigh of relief.

“That was quite charming, yes it was!” Alastor chirps. “It could have been more frightening but all-in-all, it was quite entertaining. Don’t you think so too, dear?”

You clutch his suit under your bloodless knuckles. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Alastor gives a hearty laugh, giving you a reassuring rub of his arm. “You did very well.”

As you leave, you spot some of the employees from the haunted house. Their costumes are half-off and they’re hugging the wall of the building, warily regarding the Radio Demon, looking utterly terrified - even more scared than you ever were.

And for a second, you agree with Alastor - fear is a wonderful emotion.

---

By the time you return home to your quiet home outside of the city, it’s almost midnight. Alastor makes the two of you supper and you eat it by the fireplace, the bright flames casting off every shadow in the room.

“Did you enjoy yourself today, darling?” He asks after a few minutes into the conversation. He’s changed into a casual sweater and vest. It isn’t anything groundbreaking, but the outfit is so fitting and looks so good on him that you can’t help but stare.

“I did,” you say, then with a bit of salt- “Even though you forced me to go into that haunted house.”

“Yes, but it was fun, was it not?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” you admit. “But that’s probably because you were there with me.”

“Wonderful! I felt as though the actors could have been more adequate. Back in my day, even the worst of performers could do a better job than those buffoons.”

You take a bite of your food, hiding a smile. “I think you’re the reason they were so scared, Al. After you shifted into your true demon form and scared them, no one else dared to try and piss you off.”

“But I wasn’t trying to frighten them off entirely!” he whines. “What kind of a person goes around scaring people for their occupation but can’t handle a little intimidation?”

“People are scared of you, love.”

His nose wrinkles. “That I am more than aware of,” his expression softens. “But you aren’t.”

“No,” you reach across the table to squeeze his hand. “I’m not.”

The conversations steers elsewhere and the two of you finish dinner. After the dishes are done, you coax Alastor into joining you on the couch. You lay on top of him, pressing your ear to his chest. Your fingers rub against the soft cotton of Alastor’s sweater, drawing patterns on the material.

“Do you like my clothes?” He asks. Not accusatory or demanding, simply curious.

“Yes,” you slide your fingers up to play with the collar of his shirt. “Very much so.”

“Then by all means, play to your heart's content.” His hands go to your waist, sliding his thumb underneath your shirt to rub at your hip.

You hiss. “Your fingers are cold.”

“Apologies,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “I can’t help it.”

He always ran a cooler temperature, no matter what. He was like a cold-blooded lizard, always leaching off of your warmth whenever he could. His favourite thing to do was to slip his cold hands along your neck when you weren’t expecting it, just to hear the noise that would come out of you.

Your hand trails up, along his neck, over his jaw, and rubbing against his lip. He carefully nibbles on one of your fingertips, staring at you intensely. His teeth clamp down not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough so that you feel the pressure from them.

“Beautiful…” you breathe. His hand slides up your back, running along your spine.

Your free hand travels further upwards, nesting in his hair. The tips of your fingers stroke against the firm cartilage of his ear and he inhales sharply, ears folding to his skull.

You hesitate. The ears slowly rise again.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask.

“No…” he whispers, releasing your finger from his mouth.“You can keep going. Just unused to it…”

Carefully, gently, you rub his ears. They’re quite soft, but also quite delicate so you’re careful not to overwhelm him. A hum emerges from Alastor’s throat, vibrating through your body. He’s tense at first, taught like a bow string, but over time he relaxes, melting into the couch.

His hands seek out the small crevices in your body as well, your sides, your shoulders, your neck. A few times he has to seek the solace of your neck, whining and nipping kisses underneath your ear.

Touching each other, exploring the way you each react to touches, giving soft affections - It doesn’t go farther past that, but none of you are seeking anything else from it. Every touch is for no greater reason other than it simply feels good.

You let the time pass. It’s impossible to tell how long exactly, but it’s a while before you’re both satisfied. You wrap your arms around his torso and press your face into his shirt. He smells like rich wood and strong spices. Most of all, he smells fresh. There’s simply no other way to describe it.

“I wish we could stay like this every night,” you sigh, “Tonight...and the next night..”

Alastor kisses the top of your head. “And then the next night...and the next...and the one after that, too…”

You lift your head to kiss him on the lips. “And for an eternity more.” His eyes flutter wide open, blinking just like a dazed dear. You want to giggle with how cute it is.

His expression melts into one of pure bliss, red eyes hazily gazing into yours. He chuckles, kissing the tip of your nose. “And for an eternity more.”

#alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor imagines #fluff #halloween

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frostsinth · 4 years

Photo

I watched the interdimensional door close, my breath caught in my throat, my heart racing. The dimension I had entered was dark, but seemed to sparkle like emeralds. Light seemed to float and shimmer in an almost solid form. It was hard to make out shapes or depth, but it was eerily beautiful.

“Well well,” Came a hoarse, rasping voice behind me, “What do we have here?”

I stiffened at the sound of the demon’s voice, and felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickle as heavy footsteps came from behind me. I closed my eyes, steeling my will and squaring my jaw. This was what I had wanted, I reminded myself. This was all part of the plan. And there was no backing out now.

Slowly, I turned, balling my fists tighter around my ceremonial robe, opening my eyes. Then I started a little in surprise.

The creature before me was not human; that was obvious. His huge eyes were black from corner to corner, and a smaller set rested behind the first. He had long twin horns curling out from his head like a bull’s before him, and huge, batlike pointed ears. When he saw me staring at him, he grinned, exposing his elongated mouth and sharp, pointy white teeth. About his shoulders and horns a fire cackled and snapped soundlessly, its flames licking about his form almost like hair. A long thick tail snaked behind him, its tip also supporting a brilliant blaze. But his huge, muscular torso was humanoid, as were his arms and legs. His large hands had five digits, the same as mine, albeit his were capped in deadly claws. Yet not at all the horrible grotesque thing that had been described to me by the solemn and grim Mothers of the Abbey.

Slowly, the great demon paced closer, his four eyes studying me hungrily. “What did they tell you, little lamb?”

His voice was harsh, like he spoke through smoke. And each word was thickly coated in a strange, skin tingling accent. I swallowed, facing him with my shoulders squared. His toothy grin grew a few more inches.

“The Mothers told me it is an honor to be Chosen,” I began, and was proud that my voice did not shake, “And that our Sacrifice is the only thing keeping the balance in our world.”

He eyed me, then slowly began to pace around me. I could feel the warmth of his fires, and resisted the urge to follow him with my own eyes, staring straight ahead instead. I felt his large hand reach out, and stiffened slightly as he pulled one pin from the elaborate hairstyle the Mothers had created. A few long strands tumbled loose down my back.

“And what did they tell you to expect?” He purred, reaching out and pulling another pin from its place.

“They told me you were cunning, and would try to trick me into breaking the deal you made with our ancestors. That you would seek to find a way into our world through me. And therefore I must resist, and only seek to satisfy you for one night, as is the agreement forged between you and our world.” I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye.

He chuckled; a deep, coarse sound, pulling out a final pin so that only a few strands remained curled up at the top of my head. Slowly, he came around to stand in front again, looming over me.

“All lies, of course.”

“I know.”

He seemed surprised, his black eyes twitching momentarily, and his lips curling back. “Is that so? Then why tell me them?”

“You asked me what I was told; not what I know.” I told him softly.

His chuckle was louder this time, echoing through the strange dimension like a snapping bolt of lightening. His grin returned, he reached out one longer finger. I resisted the urge to flinch as he tucked one strand of my long blonde hair behind my ear.

“You are... different, than the rest.” He noted, and a long tongue darted out, licking his lips. Dark eyes considered me for a moment again. “Then tell me, what do you know, little lamb?”

I took a deep steadying breath. “... I know that it is you that keeps the Mother Superior alive, not any god granted longevity. I know that your deal is with her, and in sacrificing a maiden every 10 years, you grant her the power to perform what she calls ‘miracles’. I know that she is not the holy prophet she pretends to be, and that she has deceived everyone this way for nearly two centuries.”

His hand lingered in my hair, and I saw his smile grow again. I swallowed the lump in my throat, feeling my breath catching there. When I remembered to breathe, that is.

“Clever little lamb,” He purred, his huge thumb tracing my cheek. Then he slowly withdrew his hand, and I saw his dark eyes grow hungry. “And yet, here you stand. So I will offer to you what I offer each maiden the Mother Superior sends.”

His tail twitched, and he stepped closer, reaching out again. But instead of my hair this time, his hands moved to the front of my ceremonial robe. I felt my heart begin to beat against my chest like a panicked, caged bird. I’m certain he can feel it.

“To satisfy my hunger, you may offer yourself as my evening meal. Or-” His hand pushed under the silken fabric, sliding it off my shoulders “-You may feed me with your... flesh.”

The way his coarse voice dripped over the word, there was no question what he meant by that. I could almost feel his desire, radiating in waves off his body like the flames gave off heat.

“... I have a different offer in mind.” I told him, glancing away briefly.

His hands slid over my bare shoulders, the warmth of his palms making electricity zip beneath my skin. He pushed more of the thin robe down, exposing the tops of my breasts. I kept my arms firmly wrapped about myself, but otherwise stood still, waiting. It all hinged on this. Everything I wanted, everything I had planned for.

“Most of you take the first option,” He said, as if he had not heard me, “Some sort of pride, I suppose. Purity of heart and all that.” His hands traced greedily up my neck, and he cupped my jaw in them, tilting my head back to face him. “Every now and then, one will choose the latter,” His grin grew wicked, “But I suppose when I send them back, the Mother Superior finds an alternative method of disposal.”

My stomach rolled hot with his words, and I clenched my teeth. My already very low opinion of the woman sank further. His thumb traced my cheek again.

“And my offer?” I pressed quietly.

He grinned, leaning down. I had to blink rapidly as the light from his flames grew almost too much for my eyes to bear. His breath was just as hot as his fires, and splashed across my face as he spoke.

“What do you offer, little lamb?” He replied, sounding more than a little amused.

“A deal... A new deal.” I said.

He dropped his hands, taking a step back and studying me again. The humor in his face had faded a little, but the smile still tickled the corners of his huge mouth.

“I’m listening.”

I swallowed hard, straightening up to my full height. I still barely reached his waist.

“You will grant me all the power you grant Mother Superior, and more. You will be at my beck and call, mine to command,” I told him, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt, “And in exchange... You will walk the earthly plane at my side... And I shall satiate your hunger myself.”

His toothy grin returned, nearly splitting his face in half. He turned, walking a few feet away. The ground seemed to warp and lift around him, rising up to meet him. It was strange, for though I didn’t see him bend down, suddenly he was lounging on his elbows. Laying with his back on the ground.

“You would satiate my hunger?” He echoed, and his dark eyes narrowed, “..All of it?”

I slowly followed him, until I stood at his feet. My eyes skimmed over his muscular torso, down to his bare hips. His manhood was bare for me to see, and it seemed intrigued by my offer. Returning my gaze to his grinning face, I dropped my arms slowly, letting the robe fall to the ground. Standing naked before him.

His tongue reappeared, licking his lips. He bent over his knees, reaching up. I hesitated only momentarily before I placed my hand in his offered one. With a gentle pull, he lay me over his torso. His privates pressed into my stomach, and his legs wrapped around me. I bent my knees, curling against him and propping myself up on my elbows to look up at him.

“You would be at my beck and call... and I would be at yours.” I assured him.

His tail flicked back and forth like a cat’s as he considered this. One huge hand reached out again, touching my face. Skimming down my shoulder. Tracing over my collarbone.

“I can taste your hunger,” He almost moaned, “As palpably as my own... such greed, such desire...” He licked his lips again, “It is... delightful...” Another coarse, rumbling chuckle. This time I felt it in his chest beneath me. “Yes,... I do believe you would keep me well fed...” His hand moved down the small of my back, tracing over my hips, and I felt him hardening against my stomach. “In more ways than the one.”

“So we have a deal?”

Again he bared his pointy teeth, his black eyes crinkling with his smile. “Yesss, lamb.” He confirmed. “We have a deal.”

“How does it work?” I asked him warily, “Is there a contract? Terms to sign?”

His hand came back to my face, cupping it. “Just a kiss, lamb,” He purred, “And everything you desire shall be yours. I will be yours to command. After you feed me.”

I couldn’t help but glance at the flames engulfing his skull. “... Will it burn me?”

The demon pulled me up, bending down to meet me halfway. “It burns some. But you? Never, my lamb.”

I closed my eyes as he pressed his lips against mine, tasting of ash and sulfur...

I had a lot of fun making this picture and writing up this story. I like it so much, I might do a follow up. Especially if there’s interest in it. Please like and reblog if you enjoy this! And let me know if a follow up story line with a bit more... juicy parts is needed.

UPDATE: Find the continuation HERE

#monster lover #monster boyfriend #demon boyfriend #demon lover #demon deal #terato #exophilia #OC #romance #demon

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crystalas · 3 years

Text

It’s only a matter of time

Okay I’m on here mainly for the fanfics so here goes...hope you like angst and stuff X3 bring a cup of tea its a long one!

The story: MK and Red Son wake up trapped by Macaque who has plans for them and he isn’t going to take no for an answer.

Chapter one: the nightmare begins

Monkie Kid woke up with a grown, he felt stiff and cold, his back and neck aches horribly which wasn’t surprising as he found himself waking up on a stone floor.

Wait. Why was he sleeping on a stone floor?

That thought got his brain firing on all cylinders as he sat up quickly, which made the chains on his wrists clank and jangle. He looked down at them adding them to the list of ‘what the heck was going on?’ MK surveyed his surroundings and saw he was in a stone-grey cell with no windows, one jail door, a bucket to which he could guess the reason that was there for…

And an unconscious Red Son who was also chained to the wall.

Oh, he had soooooo many questions.

Red Son shifted with a groan and sat up rubbing his head, as he groggily took in the sparse jail cell he looked down at his chains and then he caught sight of MK.

“NOODLE BOY!!!??” he screamed. “What is the meaning of this?!”

“I was going to ask you the same thing!” MK shouted back. “Is this one of your schemes?”

“Oh yes Noodle Boy my brilliant diabolical plan was to chain myself up in a cell with you, you saw through it so perfectly!” Red Son declared slowly clapping his hands, “All my hard work has come undone by your brilliant wit and clever thinking!”

“Ok sorry you can rein back the sarcasm now!” MK growled, he got to his feet and yanked on the chains testing their strength. They didn’t seem magical or anything special, as far as he could see they were just normal chains.

“Well, whoever did capture us are morons, I can tell you that much” Red Son exclaimed as he got to his feet, MK turned to look at him.

“What makes you say that?” he asked and Red Son just stared him in the eye as his hands erupted into flames, the metal bands on his wrists glowed cherry red then white hot before melting off and hitting the floor with a sizzling thud.

“Because only a fool would try and chain me up without heat proofing my restraints first” he answered and began to walk towards the door to inspect it. MK checked his ear more out of habit and found to his surprise that his staff was right where he left it last, he pulled it out and regarded his chains for a second. He remembered how Monkey King had been able to break Spider Queen’s webs by simply tapping them with the staff so he tried that. He tapped the chains with a little force and with a ringing clang the both chains fell apart the individual links clanking to his feet. He walked over to the cell door where Red Son was kneeling looking at the lock with a keen eye.

“Hey I can try and open it if you want?” MK offered but Red Son just gave it a push and it opened without so much as a creak.

“Wait it wasn’t even locked?” he asked dumfounded.

“I stand by my statement; our kidnappers are morons…” Red Son muttered.

“Yeah, I mean they didn’t even try and take the staff” MK said as they left the cell to find themselves in a dark hallway. Red Son lit a flame in his palm and began walking, MK not wanted to be left in the spooky dark dungeon without a light source followed.

“To be fair even if they had thought to, they would have struggled to do so. What with the whole ‘only those deemed worthy thing’ unless they had MY gauntlet of course!” Red Son declared proudly.

They walk the corridors silently for a while, it unnerved the two how quiet and dark this place was even as they walk by windows there wasn’t even the glimmer of stars or moonlight. There were no city sounds or wildlife noises or anything that could help them figure out if they in an urban or rural area.

“So… um do you remember anything before waking up here?” MK asked desperate to get rid of the unsettling silence.

“I remember being in my work shop, I was tinkering with the truck when I heard my mother call me…then…” Red Son stopped walking as if to try and collect his thoughts. “Something grabbed me from behind. You?”

“I remember being on a delivery run, the address was this little run-down apartment. Then yeah something grabbed me as well when the door opened.” MK answered, the silence returned as they continued to wander. They came to a door that opened up to reveal a large dojo training floor, they looked around as they walked through keeping an eye out for any movement.

“Why do you think they kidnapped us?” MK wondered as he looked at the wooden weapons that were on a stand nearby.

“Besides the obvious? I mean you are the Monkie Kid” Red Son muttered “My guess is that someone thought they could force a marriage out of me” this got a tsk of amusement out of Red Son and a look of bemusement from MK.

“Marriage??!”

“Yes, it is demon custom to capture your intended betrothed as a way of showing your strength and cunning. A stupid tradition that should have died out over a century ago in my opinion but there are still plenty demons out there that like to cling to the old ways.” Red Son explained they left the dojo floor and carried on inspecting the other rooms as they did. There looked to a shrine room, bedrooms, maybe a kitchen but it was as sparce as their cell was. There was nothing that gave them any indication on who took them or why.

“Sounds like you’ve had your experience with that sort of thing…” MK ventured; Red Son scoffed.

“When my father the Demon Bull King was first imprisoned by you-know-who, I was next in line to be head of the family however I was too young so my mother ruled in my stead… the amount of times demons thought they could take me so they could claim the title was beyond annoying. Ever wonder why I know teleporting magic?” Red Son explained looking back at MK.

“So why don’t you use it now?”

“To put it in a way your simple mortal mind could comprehend I need to know the location of my destination and the pathway to it, I can’t just ‘whoosh’ my way out of sealed room I need a window or an air vent or something…” Red Son said as he opened another window and gave an irritated growl as it only opened to empty darkness. “And I’m not leaping into that until I know what’s out there!”

MK gripped his staff tighter and he could feel his instincts tingle, Red Son also seemed to feel something because he could see his fists clench and he began to walk faster to the door. He opened it wide and found…

“What the hell??!” MK cried out.

The entire dojo was in a cave, Red Son lifted the fire ball above his head and made it grow larger the light illuminated the cave as far as they could see which wasn’t very far to begin with. The cave was barely large enough to house the dojo they had been in, MK used his staff to pole vault up to the roof tops making sure to stay in the light, using his golden sight he looked around getting more desperate as claustrophobia began to set in.

“I don’t see any tunnels!” he called from on top of the roof tiles “I don’t see anything that looks like a way out, not even inside the dojo!”

“Then how do we get out of here?” Red Son shouted back.

“Easy, you don’t!” a voice declared and they spun around to see a dark furred monkey being standing there as if he had been there from the start.

“Macaque?!” MK spluttered.

“Uncle Mango?” Red Son squeaked at the same time, they both turned to look at each other.

“You know him?” they both asked in unison.

“It’s cute you remember that name Red” Macaque chuckled “Kinda makes me feel bad about what’s ahead…”

“What do you want this time Macaque?!” MK snarled feeling a little safer from his high vantage point, Macaque looked up at him with a smirk.

“Why to carry on with our training of course. My little student” he grinned.

“I was never your student!” MK growled getting ready for a fight but Red Son seemed to beat him to the punch as he strode up to Macaque his hair angrily aflame.

“I demand you release us from this…place!” he shouted “Where are we?”

“This is my dojo, and only I can travel to and from it unless you know shadow magic of course” he sniggered, Red Son growled and his fists began to burn with fire.

“Release us now or I will make you!” he roared.

MK felt a chill down his spine as this conversation went on, something was wrong, something was very, very wrong here. Macaque was too at ease with Red Son and MK both armed and angry at him, then it hit him like an ice block to the gut.

Only a fool would try and bind Red Son without fire proofing it first.

Only a fool would leave MK with his staff.

Only a fool would leave the cell door unlocked and let their prisoners just wander around on their own.

Macaque was a lot of things but he wasn’t a fool.

“Red Son hold on something isn’t right here!” MK said but Red Son wasn’t listening as he was already pouncing to attack, fire blasting as he leapt forward to land a hit…

MK watched in horror as gold bands on his arms, legs and around his neck began to glow and magic began to pulse over his body; Red Son dropped to the floor screaming in pain clutching his neck as he tried to claw the band off of him. Macaque step over the convulsing demon and looked up at MK who took a step back.

“Aw don’t worry bud; I didn’t leave you out” he smiled and muttered something. MK’s head was suddenly gripped in what felt like a hydraulic press, he clutched at his head in pain and his fingers found something under his bandana something made of metal and it was pressing into his skull with all the weight of an elephant. He staggered around trying to get whatever was on his head off but the pain only seems to getting worse with every passing moment. In his stumbling he lost his footing and fell to the floor with a painful thud but that was nothing compared to whatever was trying to crack his skull open. He screamed and gasped as the agony was knocking the air of out him and he just couldn’t breathe!

The pain was suddenly gone, but all MK could do was lie there shaking from the shock and taking huge gulps of air as he suddenly remembered how his lungs worked. He opened his eyes blearily and saw Macaque standing there waiting politely for the boys to regain some composure. MK grabbed his staff and used to it prop himself up.

“Here’s how things are going to go” he declared as Red Son got to his knees snarling at him with rage. “I am the master you are my students. You will obey my instructions to the letter, I say jump you say how high that kind of thing. If you try to escape, or defy me, or attack me, or basically do anything I don’t like…” Macaque trailed off as he muttered again. The agonising pain returned in a crashing wave that sent both boys to the floor.

“Well…you get the idea”

“How did you get these accused bands?” Red Son demanded.

“Did I say you can ask questions?” Macaque inquire and Red Son gave a staggered groan as the band glowed once more. “No, I didn’t. Now up you get my little students” both boys glared at him defiantly.

“Stubborn, aren’t you?” Macaque laughed “Well this just make it that more fun for me”

MK and Red Son cried out as pain rippled through them again.

“Please. Get up”

MK staggered to his feet and the pain stopped, he glanced at Red Son who was also getting to his feet.

“Good boys” Macaque said calmly and began to walk back into the dojo. “Please. Follow.”

“How dare he bark orders at me!” Red Son muttered under his breath “When my father finds out about this, he’s going to smash that sub human into a pulp!” only for him to drop to the floor again with a strained groan, MK ran to his side to help him back to his feet.

“Until we get these things off of us, we better play along, ok? We’re only hurting ourselves” MK whispered to him.

“I didn’t say you could talk” Macaque demanded looking back on the two, they flinched as they now knew what was coming and was made right as the bands once again activated, causing both of them to fall to their knees.

“Please. Follow” was all Macaque said after that. Every attempt to get away or attack or even just to talk to one another resulted in them lurching to the floor as they received punishment. Macaque would just stop and wait for them to get to their feet before barking the same order at them. They soon stopped trying anything and just followed quietly behind Macaque as they lead the back to the cell, they had started in. Inside the cell was two of Macaque’s shadow clones each holding a folded bundle of clothes.

“Please. Get dressed” Macaque exclaimed, both boys looked at him wanting to say something about what the hell was going on or how they were not getting undressed in front of each other but Macaque just smiled and tilted his head as if to say ‘wanna try it?’

MK sighed and grabbed the first bundle and Red Son with a frustrated growl did the same with the second. MK just let his clothes drop as he took them off Red Son however took great care to fold his up and put them in the corner. They found with a sickening feeling in their stomach that the clothes they had to wear looked similar to what Macaque was wearing but simplified. Red leggings with tawny yellow robes and a brown belt sash.

The shadow clones took their old clothes and held them for a second, as Macaque looked at his students in their new attire.

“Now boys I don’t think those fit your new outfits, hand them over” he demanded, MK felt his hand go to his bandana as Red Son gripped what looked like a beaded necklace with a horned pendant.

“This is my family insignia I am not taking it off!” Red Son growled but saw the look in Macaque’s eyes and flinched before looking sadly at the pendant before taking it off and handing it over. MK took his bandana off as well and threw it at the shadow clone in disgust. As they did their clothes ignited into purple and black flames and vanished into ash, Red Son gave a horrified gasp.

“That pendant was handed down through the generations of the Demon Bull Family!” he screamed “How dare you just destroy it for your little power tr…” he couldn’t even finish his rant as he fell to the floor once more gasping and writhing as magic ripple over his body.

“Red, the sooner you learn to do as I say the less time, you’re gonna spend like this” Macaque sighed as he knelt down to pet Red Son on the head. “I was commissioned specifically to train you two up, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Why?” MK blurted out but winced back as Macaque stood up to look at him sternly. He looked at MK for a moment before giving that horrible smirk again.

“Why indeed?” he said simply “Now I want you boys to get settled in, I’ll be bringing supper shortly.” And with that he and his clones left as Red Son laid there trembling as he recovered. They remained frozen in place until they heard the sound of the hallway door closing, once they heard that click MK rushed over to Red Son who was struggling to move.

“What did he mean he was ‘commissioned’ to do this?” MK asked as he helped Red Son to sit up.

“It means Noodle boy that there is someone else in on this!” he whispered, “Someone powerful or high up because they somehow got a hold on Guanyin’s binds!” he pulled down his collar to show nestled around his neck was a gold band, he also showed MK the same kind of bands on his wrists.

“They also managed to get Monkey King’s Skillet!” Red Son said sadly pointing at his head and for the first time MK actually tried to feel for the cause of his pain, as he felt the metal band dread ran through him as he remembered Monkey King telling him how torturous it was to have on and how he hated every second he wore it.

“How do we get them off?” MK whispered back trying his best not to panic.

“We don’t” Red Son said coldly “Only the one who placed it or something with stronger magic can remove them, so our first priority is to get out of here and find my parents or … ugh Monkey King they would have a good idea how to do it.”

MK started to pace the cell trying to suppress the rising urge to freak out and panic.

“So, what now? We’re trapped?” he asked.

“We need to remain calm” Red Son said quietly.

“How? We’re trapped in a dojo that in this shadow realm cave thing, Macaque has magical shock collars on us, we both have our powers but we are still helpless!” MK babbled “Oh god Pigsy is probably freaking out; he must be worried sick…they all must be worried sick…”

“Which means they will start looking, my mother is a wind master which means she can scry the winds.” Red Son said quietly, MK spun around to demand how the hell the most anger management challenged person he has ever met can be so calm in this situation when he saw that Red Son was clenching his hands so tightly his knuckles were white.

Red Son is freaking out just as badly as I am, MK thought he’s just better at hiding it.

“What…what’s scry mean?” he asked.

“It means anything the wind touches mother can see. I seriously doubt Macaque even with his shadow magic could have taken us without a breeze catching something, not to mention he took me in my own home which has security cameras in my work shop. Someone will notice and will find something that will lead them here!” Red Son stated slowly “It’s only a matter of time, we just need to stick it out. ‘Play along’ as you said.”

MK sat down next to Red Son taking deep breaths as he tried to calm himself down.

“You’re right.”

“I know…”

“What do you think he has planned for us?”

“I don’t know…Uncle Mango was never this…twisted when I was a child.” Red Son muttered, “Or maybe he was just better at hiding it. Or I never noticed…”

“Uncle Mango?”

“Oh, nothing blood related, same way Monkey King is considered my uncle it’s more of a god father thing you humans do”

The cell fell to silence as MK ran out of energy to talk and Red Son didn’t feel like answering more questions. They both just stewed in their own thoughts on their new predicament.

#red son #monkie kid #monkie kid red son

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staticscreenwriting · 4 years

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Skin deep - Chapter One || B.H.

Synopsis: Billy survived the battle of Starcourt but is left with a body full of scars. Scars that remind him of the pain he had to go trough and the horrible person he has become. In order to forget about all of that and move on, he wants to get them covered up. Good thing Hawkins has a brand new Tattoo studio and the girl who works there might just be the help Billy has been looking for.

A/N: I needed a TattooArtist!Reader x Billy story so I wrote one and you know me, I can’t keep it short and simple. There will be several parts to this. Don’t ask me about an updating schedule because I don’t have one. I try my best to be consistent but I make no promises. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated.

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

Billy’s palms are clammy as he steps out of his car. His eyes wander towards the sign hanging above the door, welcoming him to “Little Bear Tattoos” as an American traditional bear face grins back at him.

This isn’t his first time getting a tattoo, by all means, he shouldn’t be as nervous as he is. But things are different now. Everything is different. Things change after you almost die because you sacrificed yourself to an otherworldly creature to save a little girl.

He had just turned 18 when he got that stupid little skull inked onto his arm. That’s now just a little over a year ago but it seems like a lifetime has passed since then. Sometimes, Billy thinks, sometimes It feels like that was another person altogether. That dumb little boy who thought he knew shit. The one that paraded his tattoo around like a complete and utter douchebag. He thought it made him look rough and cool and dangerous.

In retrospect, it just made it more obvious that he didn’t know shit about anything. Not life. Not death. And most definitely not about what it means to look rough and cool and dangerous. Sometimes he wishes he could go back to that moment and just relish in ignorant bliss. Most of the time he tries not to think of the past though because thinking of the past means thinking of all the things lost that night in July. Most of all himself.

Back then, getting a tattoo was easy. Now, it feels like the entire world is resting on his shoulders. It feels like he can barely keep it all from crashing down on him.

The bell above the door chimes as he steps inside the tattoo parlor. It’s a relatively small shop but it looks clean and the walls are covered in framed drawings of very intricate designs. If those have been drawn by this place’s artist, he’s in good hands.

A fluffy little brown dog is lazily resting on a pillow by the shop window and only raises his head as the sound of footsteps approaching fills the room.

“ Hi, welcome to little bear. “ a cheery voice calls out to him as a girl steps out from behind a curtain leading to some backroom. She has a big radiant smile on her face though it exudes a certain warmth that only genuine smiles do.

“ Hi uh — I was wondering if you have a free spot. “

“ Hmm… that depends. What are you wanting to get? “

To be quite honest, he hadn’t really thought much about it. All he wanted was something to cover up the ugly scars still streaking most of his body. When before, he felt a certain kind of pride whenever he passed a mirror, now it sends a sharp pain straight to his heart. Everything about him, from the perpetually tired look in his eyes to the scars, it’s al a reminder of the bad things he’s done. And the worst part is that he can never talk to anyone about it. Ever. No one will understand but the people who’ve been there, and though he and Max are getting along much better now, he still doesn’t fancy having long profound conversations with her about his demons.

“ I uh — I’m not sure but it needs to cover something.”

“ Old tattoo? “

Billy swallows audibly “scars.”

He’s not sure what reaction he’s expected from her but a casual “Okay, we can figure something out. “ is not it. Though he avoids wearing short sleeves these days, whenever someone manages to catch a glimpse of his damaged skin he got 1 of two reactions. Either people started regarding him with pity or disgust and he honestly wasn’t sure which was worse. At least those disgusted by him left him well enough alone and didn’t hold a million questions they expected him to answer in great detail.

“ Let’s sit down and we can talk about some things you like and see how we can incorporate those into a tattoo. Also, I would have to take a look at the area you want me to tattoo and see how bad the scarring is just so I can take that into consideration when designing the piece. Scar tissue is harder to tattoo but don’t worry, I promise I can do it. “

“ You’re gonna be tattooing me? “

It seems like a dumb question but honestly, Billy hasn’t met or seen that many female tattoo artists in his life and this girl seems to be about his age. That’s not something you see every day.

“ Yup. I’m (Y/N), this is my shop. Now, do you want something to drink while we discuss the piece? I got all kinds of sodas, I got water and I got non-alcoholic beer.

“ Dr. Pepper? “

“ Good choice. Coming right up. “

She walks behind the counter with the cash register and reaches into a small fridge taking out two cans of Dr. Pepper before leading him towards a little seating area by the window.

The fluffy little dog lifts his head once again regarding the two of them with only mild interest before plopping back down.

“ Oh, you okay with dogs? I can take him to another room if you’re uncomfortable. “

Billy shakes his head. Nah, he loves dogs. Always wanted one but Neil, being the miserable bastard he is, never allowed the kids to have any pets. Too much work, too much responsibility. What an asshole.

Though Billy is never going to admit it, the bedside drawer, that was once filled with issues of Penthouse magazine, now holds a bunch of self-help books and magazines dealing with topics of PTSD and trauma. A lot of them mention getting a support animal whether that be a specially trained dog or just a hamster to keep you company. It makes sense, it gives you someone who listens to you vent about all your problems and insecurities. If only his dad cared enough about his mental state to reconsider his stance on pets. Then again, when has Neil ever cared about him?

“Nah, it’s fine don’t worry. He’s cute.”

“Thanks. His name is Bear and he’s kind of the mascot of this store.”

There’s a twinkle of pride in her eyes while she talks about the shop and her dog. Something Billy is infinitely envious of. Everything he’s ever felt any hint of pride in is gone. His car. His looks. All of it.

“Okay so tell me a little about yourself. Is there anything you can think of that you’d like to get inked? Any interests, hobbies? Maybe you wanna tell me a little about yourself.”

Back before, when things were different, Billy would’ve packed as much ego enlarging words and compliments into it as possible. Would’ve mentioned his car and his most satisfactory performance skills in the bedroom. But now, he hardly knows who he is these days.

“ Um … my name is Billy. I’m 19, I’m from California. ‘Bout two years ago my dad packed us all up and had us move out here to the end of the world. Then … things happened.”

“You miss California?”

“Every day. The thought of going back one day is the only thing that keeps me fucking going. I miss the ocean. I miss surfing. I miss home. I miss all of it.”

She looks at him intensely for a moment, sizing him up, contemplating her next words. He can almost see the creative gears running in her head.

“Alright. I might have an idea. I’d have to see the area first though.”

He expects pity in her voice though there is none. Her words are comforting and warm and calm. Billy wonders how often she has to deal with clients like him. Those who come to her with painful and ugly reminders of their past.

His hands are shaking as he pulls off his denim jacket and reveals his left arm to her. The skin is streaked with scars. They’re the same paths that used to wind up and down his arm in inky black hues like poisonous vines. Now they’re a faded pink but that doesn’t mean he hates them any less.

Billy can feel his heart beating in a fast rhythm as anxiety floods his system. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe -

“Okay how big would you want to go,” (Y/N) asks, her voice gentle and soothing and her eyes switching from his arm to his eyes. She doesn’t ask him what happened and that’s a relief.

“As big as you can. I know you can’t make it disappear but I’d like as much of it covered as possible.”

“ I won’t be able to do an entire sleeve today but if that’s something you want we can start with a bigger piece on your upper arm today and then work our way to a full sleeve in the future?”

“Sounds good. I just want the scars gone. I need them covered.”

“Well my guy, you’ve come to the right place. It’s my specialty. You’re in luck too, I’m free all day so depending on your pain tolerance and the trauma of your skin, we might even be able to finish the first piece today.”

Pain tolerance, he wants to scoff at that. What he’s been through, the pain and the anguish and the emotional trauma, nothing will ever compare to that. Not even close. He’d get a 100 tattoos all at once and it still wouldn’t measure up.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

“Cool awesome! Imma go over to the drawing board and you can feel free to keep yourself entertained in the meantime. We have an arcade machine in the back. There’s records in the corner if you want to listen to some music. I’ll even let you choose.”

“Is that an honor?” Billy asks, a small smirk on his face. Every once in awhile a flicker of the person he used to be shines through. But then it’s gone and he’s left as this shadow of his former self.

“Oh you have no idea.”

As (Y/N) settles behind a big wooden table and starts scribbling away, Billy wanders over towards the corner of the studio. A bright red record player is resting on a sideboard surrounded by several boxes filled with vinyl records. They’re sorted by band name then chronologically. There’s all kinds of genres too. AC/DC and Judas Priest but also Stuff like The Mamas and the Papas and the Monkees.

“Anything, in particular, you wanna listen to? Kinda hard to make out your taste with this selection. There’s … everything.” Billy calls out to her, leaving through the records.

“What can I say? I like a bit of everything. Don’t like to limit myself.”

Old Billy would’ve raised his eyebrow and asked her if that extends to her love life as well. But old Billy is gone and so he keeps his mouth shut.

“I know it seems like just your kinda music, but maybe stay away from the hard rock. Maybe something a bit more mellow.”

He hasn’t really listened to a lot of music since … well since everything. He mostly sleeps or reads and sometimes when it’s a good day he even attempts to do a bit of writing. It’s nothing spectacular but it’s - something. An outlet really. The stories vary from an autobiographical retelling of the incident to silly tales of young boys going on space adventures. It's a way to get lost in the save parts of his mind. The ones that can create make-believe worlds and happy thoughts. Not the ones tainted with gruesome images of the past.

The opening notes the Monday Morning by Fleetwood Mac fill the air and Billy doesn’t miss the smile tugging on the corner of (Y/N)’s lips.

“Nice. Didn’t really think you were a Fleetwood Mac fan.”

Billy shrugs his shoulders casually “they’re a classic.”

He sits back down in the seat by the window, watches as the clouds pass the sky and the people go about their day. That’s until a furry little ball of fluff settles down in his lap and demands to be cuddled.

“Oh hey, you.”

“Sorry about that. Bear does not understand the concept of personal boundaries. He thinks everyone is only here to pet him. If he bothers you just set him down.”

But he doesn’t mind one bit. In fact, combing his fingers through the curly brown fur fills Billy with a sense of calm and it grounds him a little. He really needs to adopt a dog for himself.

“It’s fine. No bother.”

Time passes with Billy cuddling the dog and ever so often glancing over at (Y/N) while she’s working on the sketch. She’s drawing then erasing then redrawing. Copying then throwing it away then doing it all again. All the while she’s dancing along to the music. There’s a lightness about her that Billy wishes he could possess. Even before the Stacourt situation, he never had this unbothered lightness about him. That’s just not the person you turn into when you grow up in a house with Neil Hargrove.

A light drizzle falls outside and Stevie Nicks sings along to it and life feels … almost peaceful right then. Billy lives for these small moments of normality. These glimmers of what life used to be.

“Okay, I’m ready. Wanna have a look?”

There’s a bright smile on her face as she looks at him and waves the sketch around. “I think I nailed this one. I hope you’ll like it.“

Billy can see that she actually means it. It's not just a silly phrase she’s tagged onto her sentence. She’s genuinely nervous for him to see it.

Bear follows Billy as he walks toward the counter, a smiley (Y/N) watching their every move. There’s something about how passionate she is about her work that makes Billy both happy and sad. There used to be things in life that he was passionate about. His car. His clothes. The music he loved. Now it’s all dull and trivial and he’s lost. So damn lost.

His eyes wander towards the sheet of paper. Delicate black lines run across the page, swirling and arching and creating a beautiful composition. It’s a lighthouse. A tall and sturdy one. It shines it’s light out into the distance to guide the ships safely around the sharp edges of the cliffs. It’s a beacon of safety and hope surrounded by the rough sea and crashing waves.

“I thought it was a nice symbol, you know. Light in the dark. Guiding ships to safety.” (Y/N) explains. She’s biting her lip nervously and Billy thinks it’s insanely adorable. This piece is perfect, to think she’s uncertain and nervous about his reaction …

“I tried to incorporate the ocean and the crashing waves. You know, as a reminder of your life in California.”

Billy is speechless for a moment. Everything he wanted. All the ideas swirling around in his head. She put it down on paper, made them visible. And he didn’t even have to voice them. They were all just mushy gray clouds in his head, non forming a coherent picture. Just a feeling. A feeling of peace and belonging. Of being strong when everything around you tries to push you down to your knees.

“Do you like it? I can change it if you —“

“I love it!”

Her mood immediately changes after hearing those words. As if a switch is suddenly flipped and sunshine floods her face. Her eyes light up and her smile widens.

“Okay perfect! Wanna get started?”

“Sure, let’s do it!”

The black leather chair is soft underneath him as (Y/N) puts the stencil onto his skin. She has a soft gentle touch which only matches the tone of her voice. Very calming. A complete opposite to the rest of Billy’s life.

“Okay, so it’s not gonna be pleasant since I have to tattoo over scar tissue. If you wanna tap out or take a break just let me know.”

He’s fairly sure that whatever pain he’ll have to endure, it will be nothing compared to what he’s already been through. Pain has a completely different meaning to him now.

“I’ll be fine.”

And he means it. Not just about the tattoo, about everything. It feels like this is the first step into a new life. One that won’t be determined by his past mistakes. By the trauma.

The buzzing sound of the tattoo gun fills the air and (Y/N) starts pulling the first few lines. Short strokes. As if to test his pain tolerance. Her eyes wander up to meet his, a silent question shining through them.

He grants her a nod. One of pure determination. One that says, without question: “I’ll be fine!”

For a while, they sit in comfortable silence. There’s just the humming of the machine and the raspy voice of Stevie Nicks to lull them into a soft tranquility.

“ I’m not gonna ask about the scars but can I ask about the skull on the other arm?”

Billy lets out a mix between a laugh and a scoff. “Sins of my youth really.”

“ Oh geez, that makes you sound so old. You’re what, 19?”

“ Almost 20.”

“ See. You’re still in the prime of your youth!”

Billy shrugs his shoulder as she dips the tattoo gun back into the ink. Truthfully, it doesn’t feel like he’s in the middle of his youth. He feels so damn tired. He never got to be a kid. Never got to be a teen. Always wandering in between it all, lost and disillusioned with no one there to guide or help him.

“ How old are you?”

“ Just turned 20 a few days ago.”

“And you already have your own shop. That’s impressive.”

“Yeah well, it’s all I ever wanted to be. Worked my ass off. Spent all my free time at my cousin's tattoo studio up in Carmel. He taught me everything I know. Worked after school and on the weekends and then when I graduated my cousin gave me a little loan and I had enough to open the shop. He believed in me when no one else did and it means everything to me. Hope I make him proud. I just always felt like this is what I'm meant to be. An artist. And this way my art gets immortalized on people’s skin and in some cases it can help them overcome difficult times in their lives. I hope I can make even the smallest change in people’s lives. “

It doesn’t get lost on him, that she doesn’t mention her parents. Something must be up there but it sure as hell isn’t his place to ask about it. Families, he knows quite well, can be a touchy subject.

“Well, you’re definitely making a change in mine.”

“Yeah?”

She looks almost bashful as the question tumble from her lips.

“Yup. I … I need to make those scars disappear. They — they remind me of the worst time in my life and of a version of myself I never want to be again. Having you cover them for me with this art piece that’s so fucking cool, it means everything.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“You should be proud of yourself.”

There’s a connection there, one he can neither grasp nor explain. It’s like she understands parts of him he doesn’t even put on display. And it’s both scary and exciting. And maybe, he understands parts of her she’s not aware she’s putting on display either.

“Okay. I’m done!”

There’s an infinite sense of pride exuding from her words. Billy wishes there was something in his life that he was good at. Something to let him be proud of himself.

“Wanna take a look?” (Y/N) asks with the most radiant smile playing on her face.

“Absolutely!”

His legs are stiff from sitting in the chair for so long but he can’t wait to see the finished piece. Slowly he walks towards the full-length mirror, (Y/N) hot on his heels.

His eyes fall onto the artwork now permanently inked into his skin. There are vibrant shades of blue and dark black lines. The sea is alive, it’s unforgiving and rough. But there’s the light from the lighthouse, the hope, the safety. It’s all there’s and it’s beautiful. Where there used to be ugly pink scars thick and burning, there’s now a beautiful painting. The scars are gone. The pain is gone. All that’s left is beauty and hope.

He doesn’t realize that tears are running down his cheek until she hands him a tissue. His first reaction is to wipe them away and pretend they weren’t there in the first place. A Hargrove man isn’t allowed to cry. Not in front of people anyway. Especially not in front of women. Hargrove men are bitter and numb. They’re stoic. Silent. Angry. Above all they’re sad.

But isn’t that the person he wants to leave behind?

So he lets himself feel it. Lets the tears fall as if it were nothing.

Maybe this can be the next step into becoming the person he wishes so desperately he can be.

“I take it you like it?”

“I love it.”

And he hugs her. Pulls her close and tight as if he’s known her forever. She reciprocates the hug in no time. Softly oats him on the shoulder.

She smells like flowery perfume and clean cotton. Soft. Sweet. Intoxicating

“I can not thank you enough.”

“Billy, trust me this means as much to me as it does to you.”

He doesn’t disagree with her but he’s sure that’s not true. It means everything to him.

They talk for a little longer then he pays her, way too little if you ask him. She deserves way more and he suspects that some kind of personal sympathy plays into the price. But he’s not one to argue. Not when he’s sure he’ll come back. There are more scars. More pain. He’s not fixed but he’s at least a work in progress now.

She takes a few Polaroids of his tattoo, to put on her wall. To show people she can cover scars. Can help them. Help fix them. Make them feel less broken.

“They’re burn scars.”

Billy finds himself sharing a piece of his story. One he’s kept so close to him, sometimes he almost wondered if it was true. But it is. And there are more reminders all over his body. It feels right to share it though. She helped him cover part of it, without judging. Without questions. She deserves to know.

“Huh?”

“My scars. They are burn scars. Not — not from the outside but from the inside. Like fire going through my veins. I uh don’t know how to explain but that’s what they are. You can tell that to your clients. That you covered burn scars. That you’re that talented. “

For a moment she just stares at him, a deep sense of affection shining from her eyes. It’s comforting and nerve-wracking all at once. But he lets himself feel it. He promises himself to let himself feel the good things even if they seem scary.

“That’s … hey, would you like to grab some dinner with me? I could really go for a burger at the diner round here. It’s real good. “

And with the way she smiles, how the hell is he supposed to say no to that.

“Sounds good to me. Lead the way!”

The sun hangs low above the horizon almost dips behind the line to vanish and make room for the moon but not quite yet. They step out into the dawn, Bear pattering alongside them his leash grabbed tightly in (Y/N) hand.

As hues of red and pink and orange surround them and dip the world into a golden haze, Billy feels like maybe this is the way. Maybe this is his path leading into a new future. With less pain. Fewer scars. More color and more smiles.

And maybe a beautiful and talented girl and a little dog by his side.

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