18+ MDNI! I write smut!!! if you use/like GenAI DNI
Main Blog: alice-grimm-art
I write fanfics and reblog my OG stories here!
Other TF fanfic blog: starscreams-conjunx
It was uncomfortable in the beginning, now it's just annoying. A strange beast stalking me, watching my every move? Rank.
Romantic~ /sarc
He'd show up in my windows, stretched grin plastered to his too-pale face stained with shadows. Purposefully scaring me several times a day. Not hurting me every time, but it was making me crazy, anxious. It's a being that seems intrinsically tethered to the darkness, like he's wearing a human face as a mask.
Then one day, he'd lured me out of the village, and chased me down. A few times it seemed like he was hesitating. The Knocker was not. It was playing. My heart was pounding when i strangled it with a dirty sweater I left on the floor. You would think a monster would be absolutely pissed after— but, no.
When he was free of my makeshift snare he just stared. Shook like a tree, but eyes full of mania. Which was an uncanny presence in those dead, expressionless eyes. And his smile was wider than usual. But then it… he disappeared right in front of me, like ash scattering in the wind.
And I basically threw a tantrum. Cursing like a teenager, he was so… HE IS SO.. ugh.
Fucking annoying.
(Day 350): Mini Entry ───
I hate that he's growing on me. I keep looking for him, i need to stop doing that.
(Day 392): Mini Entry ───
The Knocker hasn't been showing up lately. I'm dreading the possibility he's setting up a huge, heart-attack inducing scare… Or that he's bored now and is gonna literally bury the hatchet. Into my skull.
Already proven before that it has no problem or remorse in causing me harm, specifically.
It's way too quiet. I think I was getting used to his dumb knocking at night, I haven't been sleeping very often.
sleep deprived babez hot girl problems yabaiii
(Day 400): Update entry ───
I can't believe I'm admitting this. I miss the creepy bastard. He.. It used to greet me in the windows in my mornings, sometimes just staring or with a scare. I'd been making faces at it, trying to get a reaction.
And now he's… gone? How gone? Like, did he leave or.. Or is he just hiding again? How long is he going to play this?
(Day 402) Entry 2 ───
I hate him so much. He was gone, he was! He reappeared after I left that dumb sign. I knew it was a bad idea. Scared the crap outta me!
But.
Why do I feel better? There's something so wrong with me.
He left me fresh meat in the fridge. I don't know how he even knew I needed it. Was he gone? Or just hiding… Listening to me talk out loud?He ate two WHOLE pieces of my blackberry pie, and i pretended to care. But I don't. Not really… I can't eat a whole pie by myself.
He spoke, and it's a creaky, ashy sound. He didn't…couldn't? raise his voice above a low whisper. He teases, and jokes. Is that possible for a night creature? You would think the village cleric would've observed such a thing. And written it down or something.
Then he got real close. Answered me. Stayed glued to my back for way too long. The air around him is chilly, and he's very big up close. Towering.
And now i can't stop imagining… unhealthy, filthy things. If it was for a person? It wouldn't be a problem but—
The Knocker isn't a person. But UNFORTUNATELY my lady bits don't care. I've never had this much attention before, it's..frustrating. Would it be absolutely bat shit crazy-stupid to…?
NO— Absolutely not. But.. if he's gonna kill me eventually anyways, what's the actual harm?
Dying? Being tortured? Mmmm… I'm not very good at math. He's strangely beautiful, attentive, kinda hot too… in a weird way.
I pity the fool who reads this diary actually
He looks softer up close. Shape-wise anyways, because his face is... rough. Attractive. That's dumb, right? Maybe I'm delusional. He has a carved squarish nose, strong, prominent, hooking downward. Strong jaw, deep-set eyes. It's pale with dark patches stained onto it's face, smeared, worn... like a clown after a bad day, but its a permanent part of it's face. The streaks almost look like tears. It doesn't seem to have eyebrows, like, at all. Intense deep eyes of void that fixate so dramatically, so incessantly they pierce my soul, and remain on me even when i can't see him. I could swear i saw hair tucked under that hood, but I can't really be certain.
He flickers at the edges, like black smoke rising and swaying. But tangible, because I could feel him against my back, in my face, and under my fingers when I touched his hand.
His mouth is… not average truly, but not as stationary, or permanent as it seemed at first glance. It moves almost imperceptibly when he speaks. Not like it's carved into a mask, or painted on. Smiling just seems to be the natural state of its face, a not-quite-right kinda smile. As if its wearing a learned behavior and not understanding what it means.
They are… aesthetically speaking, rather pretty. kissable...
And there is a gnarly scar that trails across both lips up to his left eye as black as the rest of his mouth, it blends into his smile unless you look real close. Why is he handsome???? His breathing is quiet, but rasping. It fills the back of his voice when he speaks. drool shutTHEFUCK
It should scare me. He's real. Present and real. He's been in my grasp only once, and yowzah he's WAY too strong. Scary strong, scary heavy. But…
the unfortunate, god-awful truth I've realized;
It's been holding back this whole time.
He's… playing. This is a game. A very fucked up one, for sure. And if that's the case…
Wicked— I can play too.
If he's going to piss me off and get under my skin every single day? How about a new game—
I'm going to fuck The Knocker.
────────────────────────────────────────
No. The fuck is she thinking? SUCH a stupid, foolish idea. Maybe stupid enough to work? Wasn't there a horror movie where one of the women tried to seduce the antag. and got murdered immediately? Probably.
Goddess, she misses movies.
What else could she write about it? Him? Humanizing the monster, again. Not a person. He fizzled like, 10 seconds after she touched his hand. With her very.. sweaty hands…
Alice sighs, leaning back in her chair.
She's going stir crazy with all of… everything. Its faint whistling is like white noise, the only break she gets is by going to the village. Like most night creatures, it avoids the golem. Honestly? He could probably beat it, she muses. Maybe a weird nonverbal agreement they have.
Either way, it gets her out of the house. It pisses off The Knocker, and she gets a break. Win-win. Maybe he'll appear up close again…
She shivers, face suddenly too warm.
A flicker of void catches her attention in her peripheral. Knows better than to ignore him completely. So she settles for tilting her head towards him, in the window.
Small smile, and a cheeky wink.
Alice has never seen The Knocker furrow his brows, but that smile doesn't fade. Awarding her the closest Knocker equivalent expression to 'bemused'. It squints at her for a moment before obscuring into ash. (Hawt. noshutup)
Now that's a reaction. This might actually work.
────
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Also on AO3 -> LINK
A/N: This one's shorter on purpose! Next chapter I plan to be a bit longer! It'll take place on the same day in story! (and maybe today lolz, i wanna post it today if i can) Also, this is an alternating POV style fic series! I'd say a mix of third person, and first? But only very rarely in the same chapter, like this one!
Big things to small; her routines and activities, to the way she walks and holds herself and the micro expressions she reveals when thinking she's alone. He, it— takes it all as a delicious meal.
It always escalates. Depends on his prey, and the level of patience it has while stalking them. But at some point watching from afar no longer satiates him.
He starts wandering the grounds, dragging curious hands over her possessions. Tapping on walls and windows. Climbing the side of her house for a glimpse of her sleeping soundly.
Cute.
The Knocker isn't a person. It does not regret. It feels no shame or guilt. Each emotion its prey gives it is welcome, even if its the first time feeling it. The cute one sleeping soundly makes the beast's insides warm, and its different from hunger, different from bloodlust.
That doesn't mean he won't attack her. It is a slave to the attention it craves, to his urges and unpredictable emotions. He trembles with the urge to dig his axe deep, and her fear, her instinct to run is exhilarating to him.
But eventually he grows bored of the repitition. As he always does. Though, differently again. He doesn't want the game to end yet, wants more.. But what is more than the hunt? What could fulfill him more that the sticky feeling of blood on his skin, between his teeth..
And it's as if his prey could read that of him. Behavior changes, and it's delicious..
The woman's boldness showed quickly. From the start she fought him. Not with a weapon, no.. Not as fighter with a sword, something new he hadn't experienced.
She yelled, grew frustrated, even fought back when he attempted to finish her off. Strangling him with some kind of cloth, before he'd vanished. Making distance, but eyes still glued to her as she made noises of frustration and criticized him under her breath.
Cute..
She'd grappled him. And it enjoyed the feeling of her much warmer body touching his deathly cold one.. He was enjoying the game again. Could have overpowered his mark if he'd wanted, but she surprised him. And he liked it.
She looked divine beneath him, covered in blood before turning the tables on him. Exquisite, delicious..
The Knocker went back to spooking her after. Watching through the window. His favorite part of this one is that she always acknowledged him.
The woman met his eyes of void through the window with an agitated pout each time. Then began making strange faces at him. It never reacted. Kept watching, absorbing each second of her attention. Its smile would stretch as he trembled with delight before leaving her with a loud scare and dissapating.
───────
The knocking would get worse to the point of making Alice crazy. Then the dreaded signs appeared.
|LOOK AT ME|
|KNOCK KNOCK|
|LET ME IN|
She avoided them for a while. Often she'd catch the outline of him in the treeline. Expectant? He kept his distance, it kept its distance? Since she 'successfully' fought him back with one of her sweaters. Why is she humanizing the creep?
A few times she caught herself looking through her window like routine, disappointed of all things that he wasn't there. Maybe he was just getting better at hiding. Hadn't seen him in nearly a week, which is unnerving. She was on edge, expecting him to jump out at any moment.
The signs remained near her house. Strangely, she'd also noticed the sightings of undead that frequented not far from her home had completely vanished.
The signs… her curiosity may be the death of her someday. They didn't change. Said the same thing as always. She took a rag to one of them, the dried blood smeared a bit but overall came off.
Writing 'hi', with some chalk, heart racing and gut telling her how bad of an idea it is to try to get his attention… again. She stared at the sign with a slight grimace. Then sat down in from of it and doodled a bit.
A poorly drawn rendition of his creepy bastard face, and some delicate flowers around the greeting. It's so dumb, but she kinda missed the excitement. She's bored, even if before she wished to have her old routine back.
Alice sighs, pulling her ass of the ground. She needs to make some food. Ingredients. Bread, meat, harvest veggies from the garden…
"Getting low on meat…" She'll have to stop by the butcher's shop later.
Or not.. She got distracted.
───────
It's a windy tonight. The beast returns with a bloodied sack, stopping short of her entryway. It can hear her sleeping through the walls.
Ever-present grin deepening, he's home~
The Knocker catches his edited sign with a flit of its inky eyes.
|Hi ❀ 𖡼 ✿ |
Confusion, curiosity. He approaches the sign first. It sets the bag, and his filthy axe down to free hands. Caressing the dainty drawings with a reverence. His once neutral face widens into a grin that reaches dead eyes once again when noticing the portrait of him scrawled at the edge.
Cute…
In one motion, it stands with his items grasped quickly and appears at the door. Hunched into the small opening.
Knock, knock, knock
As if trying to be polite. It isn't. He walks through into the house, the door is no barrier. If she's pretending to sleep, as she's done before, it wants her to know he's back.
It smells good in the house. He sets most of the butchered meat into her ice box, and a few portions onto the stove. Directly onto it and cooking it… without a pan. The Knocker's attention diverts to the sweet smelling things on her counter.
Bread he knew. Drool dripped down his chin just seeing it. But there was also a circular thing that smelled of fruit and sweetness. Bread on top, perhaps? He leans, eyes peering over the edge of the counter.
A deep cut, a missing piece. Inside he can see some type of fruit. It smells good. Is it for him?
The meat isn't forgotten, he scoops finished pieces into a bag on his hip. Unable to restrain, and trembling, it grabs one of the slices cut into the sweet thing and fits the whole thing in his awaiting maw.
Most definitely there's now black drool covering the woman's counter.
───────
Alice awakes as she does any day to the brightness from her window and the sounds of the forest.
Groggy steps lull her body downstairs craving a hot cup of coffee. Thanking her past self for harvesting and grinding a new jar yesterday. She stayed up far too long last night. Trying to draw her stalker from memory into a newly bound journal. They're probably terrible, but whatever.
The first sip is heaven. And her world comes more into focus. She... only ate one piece of her blackberry pie yesterday. Brows furrowed, she leans on the edge for a moment—
"Eughgh what?" The counter is slimy. What the fuck? She glances back and forth between the sink and the pie that has three pices missing instead of one.
She takes a wet rag to it after scrubbing herself up to the elbows. And the rag returns tinted black.
She squints. No way. No way in Nether.
Alice takes a deep breath, and makes her way outside with the cooling mug of coffee. Clear her mind with the sunlight.
The sign she wrote on is turned toward the house. That's one of the first things she noticed. The other is that the three other signs around her yard are gone, and one sets right next to the one she drew on, facing the forest.
Oh, that's a trap. Gotta be.
Curiosity kills the cat. Alice makes her way to the other side of the sign, back to the forest against her better judgment.
|BEHIND YOU :) <3 |
What?
"Missed me that much?~" Shivers up her spine with the croaking whisper that meets far too close to her ear, and Alice helps, jumping away from the source.
Hasn't seen the Knocker up close in the daylight before. Never heard him.. It.. Speak before either. Didn't know he could.
He's tall. And that's saying something because Alice isn't that short. He stands the way a predator does when it stalks through tall grass towards its prey. Eyes fixated on her, smile never wavering. Can it? It looks almost like it's carved into its face, dripping with ink. It's body looks tuned to blend into pitch blackness, so he sticks out against the morning rays. Jittering with smoke like an apparition.
Has he ever shown himself to her during the day?
Its head twitches to the side nearly imperceptibly.
"…"
"... You—" She has no idea what she could say. Why is she trying to speak to it..
The Knocker doesn't move, doesn't blink, but it's face seems to be in such delight. The way it looks before usually scaring the fuck out of her.
"…You could've asked before you ate my pie."
Alice pouts, dramatically, purposefully performing. Trying to see if he'll react. It.. Doesn't, not really.
The Knocker tilts his head and squints, but says nothing.
"Or cleaned up the… drool? You left on my counter, ass."
That did something. An ashy, croaky laugh emits from the beast. Amused at her chastizing. Then gets up real close, way too close. Its at least two head taller than her. Towering over her, and its uncomfortable.
"Left a gift. Check the kitchen." Ominous. And he vanishes into smoke, and she coughs from the exposure. Covering her face, brows furrowing trying not to cough her lungs out completely.
Should she? For all she know it's somebody's body parts. The creep.
Alice groans, giving into the curiosity again.
She marches into the house. Where in the kitchen? The fridge? That's the first place she's checking, hoping he didn't actually stuff some weird crap into her oven or something.
She stands there a moment, just staring at the sight in her fridge. Meat. Sliced, cleaned, stacked into piles of same kinds. Meticulous.
Doesn't know if she should be scared or impressed. Wait.. Gift? He said 'gift'. How did he know she was out of meat? Alice wrings her hands, gifts are... unpleasant.
She makes her way back outside. She can't make her voice work, not out in the open, mouth opening but nothing coming out. Not helping that she doesn't know where the Knocker even went. Next best thing.
The back of one of the signs.
|Is that for me? To keep?|
Taking a few steps back, she's not gonna risk that until she gets an answer. She doesn't know why, like the thought of a gift being pretend is what she's used to, but that's never happened has it?
Its quiet. She turns back to the house and goes to sit inside, to finish her coffee finally.
And she's able to. But before she can stand, the hairs on her neck stand on end.
Breathing.
"To.. Keep."
She shivers at the intrusion of her personal space. The Knocker's arms cage her against the counter island from her back. Breathing on the back of her neck.
".. Wh-what?" In the moment the context of his vague words don't catch up.
"Gift. Keep it. Eat."
Okay… that's an answer. In her brain fog, she just stares at the hands gripping her counter. Rough, strong, stained black just as it's face, adorned with worn leather up to his knuckles. Fidgeting.
"… Thanks." Breathless, out of fear. Out of a stupid warm bubbling up her face from her guts. Stop that, ew, stop, ALICE—
The creature hums, leaning into her hair. It's a gargling, painful noise. But it's content.
It would be a domestic scene if the thing currently leaned against her back hadn't tried to murder her on several occasions.
How the fuck is she in this situation? She doent move a muscle. And maybe that's why he hadn't vanished yet. So she moves.
Carefully she lays a hesitant hand on a dangerous one still flexing against the surface.
Its cold. The skin, the glove. All of it, like touching a concrete wall in the winter.
She can't see the creature's face but she knows for a fact that it's watching her. Those empty eyes burning holes into her skin.
She doesn't remember much from before she joined the world.
Alice knows she was from somewhere else, blurred faces, and fragments of conversations, voices, feelings... But at some point she woke up here. A not-so-empty place, somewhere that feels like a dream... forested, beautiful.
It took a bit of figuring out, but she made makeshift tools and a shelter, learning the hard way that the nights weren't safe. Her first shelter was soaked to the bone in rain, and her first tools broke within a few uses. Yet within the first week she found civilization. A small village in a Fir forest, the locals were... different from her, but kind. Large towering metal giants wandered the paths, and the locals paid it little mind. She got comfortable. Learned about the way this world worked.
Rumors, lessons, skills. She learned from the woodworker, a stonemason, a farmer. Learned to caste better tools, visited a mine with the local miner. And eventually her confidence grew, so she drew up plans with her mentors to make her own place to stay. In the meantime, Alice hung lanterns, chopped trees, set paths, and fences as a thank you to her local neighbors. The village felt more alive, open, protected; at least in her opinion. She assisted the stonemason in building a bridge across the river to find a beautiful clearing just above the shore. Just enough space for a nice hill house, and a small farm.
She was giddy from the very first glance of it. She could picture it clearly in her mind.
And It took her nearly a year. A lovely two story cottage, and for some reason that feels significant. Built by hand with Fir wood, dark stone and dark wood accents. Carpets and chairs, a cozy library nook room and even a working fireplace. Back aching from tilling the soil near the river, setting up new fences and paths, and stairs. Plenty of times she was forced to sprint across the bridge because she stayed out past dark working on it.
There are rules, you see. Creatures emerged at night, with a particular dislike for the living. And according to the locals the tamest thing to catch you is the undead, but there were rumors of even worse dark entities lurking. A twiggy corpse creature that you could catch in your peripheral, making squelching crunching noises, or perhaps eyes that glow in the darkness, sharpened teeth glinting... predators that try to look almost human to lure you in.
The worst fairy tale? The one that stayed present in her mind as she slept in her new home alone, cocooning herself even if the night remain quiet and docile.
During the night: Don't answer the knocking. If you see a bloodied sign near your home, pretend it isn't there. A whistling in the night, the sound of scraping.. all things she's heard in the whispers of village tales. Avoid them, don't react, don't investigate.
Tall tales, certainly.. She's never seen worse than a wriggling zombie, or raggedy skeleton in the night. She knows the caves have giant spiders, and far worse but she isn't an adventurer. If these 'dark entities' were really out there and not some warning to children not to stray too far from the village lights, then surely Alice would've seen some proof of it?
New shiny prey... lively.. Vibrant hair, soft and docile, a glowing thing, like the moon.
The night grows darker, and her fear is a lingering addicting thing... Inching at the edges of her, just out of reach.
Glancing around trees, been a while since it was near this village. Grew bored, let them think he was gone for good. Needed fresh blood, fresh fear...
Its form stutters in the wind like a dark fire, a pollution, gloved hands clench the bark of the tree that hides him It's eyes deep pools of ink, unblinking, focused on his new target. All alight in the village's new lanterns. Did she put them there? Chatty, helpful, hyper... The stretch of his grin cracks his face with a vile glee.
It knows she's inching to leave the bounds of the village, had found her amidst her walk there during the day. Hidden in the shadow of the trees. She doesn't live here, she can't. No reason to build a new garish, monument of a bridge other than to cross it, yes?
Came from somewhere, and will be followed back. Shivering, waiting, mouth watering...
The woman turns towards the boundary of the guardian's range, and the beast dissipates into ash.
Alice says her goodnights to the workers packing up for the night, then the Golem with a friendly pat of his... arm?... before crossing through the fence. Even with the lanterns she put on the trail to the bridge, the forest was kind of unsettling at night. Subconsciously grimacing at the reminders from the younger ones in the village of the 'scary monsters' that could get her.
She wants to enjoy the night air. She knows the path home is safe, doing her due diligence with her neighbors to keep the undead from wandering too close. The sound of the river beneath the bridge is soothing after a long day. Reminds her how good a shower sounds.
Lanterns line the cool stone bricks, and the river smell is heavenly. One of the kids wants to be a fisherman when they grow up... The redhead stretches skyward at the end of the bridge, and notices the darkness. Her lanterns are dead. That's fine... it's a short walk up the hill.
Eyes scanning the darkness, she can still make out her house; she keeps a mental reminder to refuel the lanterns in the morning, this is too creepy... But she's more worried about getting a face full of tree.
Rugged hands graze the tree nearest... a crunch of grass, the beast materializes in a suffocating black smoke. So close he could taste her fear, lathered on his atramentous tongue.
Alice startles, covering it with a cough. It's... just an animal, it's just the woods. The woods she walks through all the time. Starting up the path, facing the dark. She's not a child, not scared... Not scared..
Eyes in the trees, a soft, joyous whistling echoes far... Knock, knock, knock.
'Lead me home, little bird...' Whispers into her nape, disappearing when her head twists to catch it, eyes wide like the moon. Her breathing stutters, every nerve in her legs scream to run, right now! But she's not afraid, not scared, no. Not running, maybe a quickened pace, but not running; back to the safety of her house on the hill, caste in warm light. Stopping just short of her door under her lantern and breathing deep before turning to face the pitch black forest once more.
Nothing. It's quiet. Relief fills her lungs. Alice retreats into her home with an embarrassed sigh.
Just tall tales. Needs to stop letting rumors stick to her brain, that's how you get an aneurysm.
Embers in her fireplace crackle dimly as she slips off her boots in the doorway, fire starving.
And a shrill chirping reminds her of who else needs fed, running her hands lovingly across the deep gray fur of her kitten Nephi.
Nephele laps up the ground meat as if she's never eaten a day in her life, and Alice giggles. She rests her head in a hand while picking at her food and fawning over the fluffy child; Her eyes are drawn to the void of her window in the dining room. Empty, nothing. Stop worrying.
With her chores done, fed and warmed by the fire, she heads upstairs to bed. The cocoon of cool blankets gradually soak up her warmth until her eyes grow too heavy.
Tap, tap ,tap.
It was probably the kitten...getting into something she'll have to clean up in the morning.
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Next Chapter ->
(A/N:) I love the knocker and was falling in love with so many versions of him/it in other people's fics so i decided to try my hand at it! Short for now, thinking of expanding/continuing~
I'm trying to get into the mind of a creetur for him, inspired by another couple fics where he's more animal/beastly rather than some guy™
He feeds off attention, though he does need to eat sorta? the same way an animal does, because i don't think it's undead... Dunno if he should eat people, i'm debating it.
Knocker isn't a person in my interpretation. Never a human or anything close. He's good at pretending, learning human behavior but he'll always be off somehow. Any ideas in the comments are welcome if you wanttttt
Beware, this might get smutty if i chose to continue!
I have this story that I've been working on for like yearssss, and I've only ever written the first chapter, but it is my brainchild
Anywaysss,
This is Percy the Fool, or Percy the Ringmaster, or... gosh he's a lotta things. I had a different design for him originally, but I love how he looks now. Very Polished!
Also, a little sketch of what the Circus kinda looks like, it's a floating island that the Ringmaster moves from Mainland to Mainland. Like hooking the bridge onto platforms around the Lethes.
Also, I can't decide which color the sleeves look better as? LMK, if any of y'all have an opinion on that!!
── .✦ A/n: So! I actually decided to beta read and edit this chapter and re-upload it attached to my jester concept! I might do a thing where i attach a cool OG artwork alongside my chapters. I wrote this chapter earlier this year, i just edited some aspects that i decided needed changed! A lot easier now that i know what my main characters look like XD〢
Dreaming, flying… Swirled in the cosmos like the tiniest speck, regal blues and purples spiral like clouds.
An ethereal face, tender eyes… hands grasping, cradling. So blinding, unable to make out details.
But, a Soft voice echoing with the affection of a mother, a familiarness…
Then falling… the glow of her, the warmth and affection, dimming slowly until there was nothing but darkness.
But the promise echoes, cautiously yet adoring;
“You will return to me, yet I hope this world is kinder to you. Stars guide you, little one…”
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────
The smokey rasp of her mother’s voice startles her awake, molten venom stinging her ears.
“Liv..! If you don’t get your ass off that bed..!”
Disheveled from sleep, and groaning, Liv flips her body and blindly reaches for her alarm clock. Blanket strewing themselves around with her aggression, falling from her pathetic bed happily. The beast awoke early this morning and made it her problem. It’s merely a quarter to Seven; seven, when her alarm goes off.
Finally sitting up, groggily, when her mum’s screeching pipes up again.
Olive hunches over the hand-me-down vanity to prep her rat’s nest. Muttering under her breath as the beast ransacks the flat. ‘loud ass.’ Her normally kempt black waves, muss over her face like a swamp-monster. She pulls a face at her reflection as if trying to intimidate it before fixing her micro-bangs. Glowering at the bags under her soft hazel blue eyes.
Her gaze lowers, hand brushing the damaged picture frame of her and her father, she used to tell herself how pretty she is because she has his looks. But they seem only to insult her mother, spitting image of the man that left her with such a burden. Oliver Morgenstern. Not his fault he’s dead.
Olive ruminates whether her namesake was given out of affection or as a reminder, while she dresses herself. The thin walls continue to echo with the clattering of who-knows-what in the other room. Liv’s room is nothing more than a closet with a poorly kept thrifted bed shoved into it across from a vanity. Cramped and cluttered with her stuff, albeit organized onto the floating shelves she made in materials class back in Secondary.
A simple floral skirt that reaches her knees, and an oversized sweater-blouse combo, then puling on her short boots. Dark, neutral, and with washed out colors. Nearly ready for another shift at the bookshop, definitely looks he part.
Another few months saving up should suffice a cheap ticket, and a run-down studio apartment at the next town over. Far enough away from her current situation, and the woman who torments her.
Grabbing her Walkman and stuffing it in a green carry-on, Liv attempts to slip out the door without a confrontation, however her the beast emerges from her room stomping about.
Bleached blonde hair fading to darkened roots put haphazardly up into curlers, with a fag hanging from her gangly, clawed fingers– supporting her smoking arm in a half-crossed look.
“I ‘ave a date, don’t bother steppin’ in tonight.”
The older woman’s face half done up, and scowling, as if she interrupted the hag putting on her face just by existing. Liv tenses with the urge to bite back yet only lowers her gaze and steps out of the flat.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Stepping away from the rough flats that should be reported for some kind of code violation, the rest of the street isn’t much better. Crumbling buildings overgrown with flora, infested with pests and average stray animals. At least they are free. The abandoned pavement cracks and crumbles against perforating roots, and old earthquakes from longer ago than she was born.
There’s a strange beauty to the derelict buildings and huts of the Dendrum city roughs, and as nice and clean the upper heights are– or at least what the stories say, she’d never afford even visiting. Even if she could imagine it, the closest would be that of a squeaky clean, medical wing of a hospital like she’s seen on the faded advertisements.
She lets her eyes wander, getting lost in the sky for a moment. Frozen still from the crisp breath of freedom, though she’d be expected by the next morning as routine. The street smells of overgrowth, marijuana and cigarettes. The wind whistling through the holes in nearby buildings while she sways. Liv wishes in the moment that she could remember that dream she’d been cruelly torn away from.
Barely an inkling of a happy thought, something softer than is her own life. It seems to flee each time she reaches for it in her mind.
“A-ahh!” A sudden force barrels into her back and lifts her from her feet, twirling her in excitable hands.
Familiar long chestnut twists fall onto her shoulder, and girlish giggles of her best friend pierce her ear. Turning once she regains her bearings; her hands find the young woman’s arms for support.
“Sunny..! You startled me.” Mock-annoyance filters into an affectionate relief.
“You’s staring into the smog like a wack..? I coulda’ been anyone, Dreamer.” Carson ‘Sunny’ Cadwaladr, her closest friend since primary school. Their dad’s worked together as restoration contractors. Both taken during the riots when they were both little.
“Where d’ya go when you do that, babes?” Quite literally shaking Liv’s shoulders when her eyes glaze over again, piercing her doll-like eyes into her soul with a scrutiny. Far away for minutes at a time, with her head in the clouds. Sometimes literally.
“Wha..? Ughh.. sorry, a rather trying morning… Old witch spooked me awake, quarter to seven… ransacking the flat like a rhino.” Liv gestures her arms around in her frustration. Her mother often has dates, a few times a week. Liv’s never sure if she’s soliciting or stealing. Not that she ever sees a dime, only the extravagance her creator returns with.
A smile cracks Sunny’s plump mahogany cheeks, hiking the plastic grocer bag over her shoulder with a dramatic hip tilt. Her soft, round nose scrunching in reaction. She’ll never know why the gal wears shorts when it’s tit-freezing outside. ‘I’m wearing an under shirt and socks,’ she’d say. As if she wouldn’t wear both of those if the cold ever truly left the Dendrum Roughs.
“Huhhf…” making the loudest huff she can manage, “You sharing, luv?” She bumps the woman’s hips with her own; pouting her lips at the snack bag, wiggling her brows to poke Liv’s buttons. She doesn’t dignify that with a response, because the answer is always a ‘yes’.
Taking her hand with a free one, Sunny drags her towards their workplace. Quite a contrasting pair, strutting down the dilapidated street. Sunny’s favorite sunflower t-shirt, quite ironic, over a long-sleeve in baby blue, navy blue star socks and bright pink trainers- albeit faded and used, they make her very approachable. Yet it’s far too early, and cold to see many other pedestrians.
It's their routine, even if Olive was rudely wakened a bit early. This way they have plenty of time to walk to work, minding the cracks in the streets, dodging protruding roots and vines; and still having time to eat breakfast when they get there.
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The walk to the cluttered old bookshop is a short 20 minutes from the residential district, the view getting only slightly better past the rickety stream bridge that connects the two sectors. Still technically in the Roughs unless you venture past the gaudy checkpoint guarded by glorified bobbies. You ask anyone here, though, they would pointedly say that this is Dendrum City. Roughs included.
The shopping district’s a mite livelier, people at stalls, or perusing windows. Keeping their distance from the road to make room for passers.
The old shop, made of dusty brick with cracked, half-boarded windows boasts a sign, faded, that reads [‘s Bookshop]. The name of the original owner long eroded by time and obscured by wall ivy. Thankfully, Liv never works the front– far better at replacing books, unloading, and sorting. Right on cue, stepping in the back of the store, a pile of books grace the trolley and a post it telling her to resort it.
Likely one of the districts common pranksters knocked a shelf over. Giving her more than enough work to pass the time during her shift.
Minutes morph into hours, mindlessly working, and listening to her Walkman. She can hear Sunny’s perky voice in between songs, ushering customers about. Far better interacting with them than she is anyway. That’s why she’s the face of the shop, agreeing with her boss, Ms. Hart. The older woman offered them both positions right after graduation, needing some helping hands because her husband passed.
Liv used to sneak out to the woman’s old bookshop a safe haven during her school years, a place filled with the voices of the past. Even the fiction, or the kid’s books. That gave her the hope that outside Dendrum, kindness awaited.
“Babes, do you eva’ take a break?” Liv pulls off one of her earphones, checking the time, Ten past lunchtime. Punctuated by Sunny’s incredulous face and the plastic bag of goodies she dumped in front of her work.
“Only when you tell me to..?”
“Well, I’m telling now.” The wooden chair scrapes along the floor as she pulls up to the table where Olive usually sorts books. The shop doesn’t really have a break room. Most shops don’t anymore unless you’re in the wealthy market district past the gates. Ms. Hart used to tell of times when there wasn’t a gate, right after the riots died down. For what seemed like moments, both sides were a mess of rubble overtaken by green, but you could visit them both. Then Dendrum City was bought, and anyone who couldn’t afford a spot was locked out.
Several Roughs like Dendrum lined the city, but if you went further out to the countryside, where Liv was planning to escape to, you’d find nearly hospitable towns. Untouched by the riots but still claimed by mother nature. It only took a train ride there and enough to claim a flat or something similarly small, which costs a very pretty penny.
But Sunny decided to stay long ago, they’ve both agreed on it. Her family still lives in Dendrum, and she’s set on rebuilding it like their fathers used to. But they had plans to reunite a few years down the line, once they were good and settled.
There’s no changing Sunny’s mind when she’s set on something. Though you could say the same about her. Even if she’d be starting over, the thought of that freedom drives Liv to keep going.
“You remember, I told you ‘bout that charming enby that stopped by last week?”
Liv nods in between bites of vege-cake, some soft flakes escape from the tear. Another crush on a patron. It’s not as if Sunny is a shut in, she could find plenty of peers to fancy at some party or event.
“Yeah..? How’s this one different than your last crush..?” She laughs, raising a brow towards the perkier brunette.
“How..? You daft? You’ve seen them. Tall.. dark, with sad eyes. Those big fluffy looking hoodies..”
“I’m just not all that interested in romance, Sunny. Besides, I’m not staying here long enough for that.”
“Right, right. Saving up for the ‘freedom of the countryside’ I remember. What if it’s not the dream ya’think it is?” She pouts but then sighs knowing her best friend won’t change her mind. They’re both so stubborn.
“I’m happy for you, luv. Love freely, old friend, you deserve it.” Then smashing the cheesy vegetable pastry back into her mouth.
“You sound like an old dead guy.” Deadpanning towards Liv while her mouth is occupied with a juice can.
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The night chills against her as they walk back to the residential district. Face to the stars she feels an uncomfortable pull. One that’s always kickstarted her travelling feet. But it would be far too dangerous for a night walk in a town like this.
Liv knows she can’t exactly return home, still she keeps her mouth shut. Sunny’s mom, while a sweetheart very willing to host her, also works like a dog and has to support their larger family. Larger being two siblings, still more than she has. Another mouth to feed wouldn’t be much, but Ms. Cadwaladr could use the sleep after the shifts she takes constantly.
But that’s just an excuse.
Liv avoids asking her friend for a place to stay, well.. because being around her family for that long causes an empty ache she’d rather avoid. Unlike Sunny’s mum, her own began to resent her when her father died, and Liv’s been forced to pick up all of the pieces while under heel.
She parts with Sunny about half-way.
“You sure, babes? You could bunk with me?”
Giving her friend a curt nod, letting her disappear into the stairs. Only leaving after the assurance that she made it up to her home.
Liv stops short of her darkened flat, lanterns off showing her mum expects her absence. Sucking in an aching breath, she sits on the steps for a break.
She could climb in through the bathroom window if she gets desperate. But for now, the chill greets her pale cheeks with a flush, causing her to bury her face into the plaid green scarf she’d bundled with before they’d even stepped out the bookshop’s door.
Perhaps a walk could be justified. A quick one, just to clear her head before she’d have to use her ‘superior’ espionage skills, by twisting her lanky frame through the tiny, frosted window. At the end of the block, the building become more like ruins, completely abandoned. In such disrepair and reclaimed by the green that they aren’t even an adequate shelter for the desperate. Plenty of unnamed, unowned, ruined buildings closer to the epicenter for that.
But, there’s a certain beauty to it. In her opinion anyway. Once corporate and soulless, even the housing is now in shambles. The proof of humanity slowly degrades, as nothing escapes the grasp of nature for long.
Liv has her headphones in, with a lovely classical distracting her ears while she hops over poorly lit paths crumbled by time. As if the trees wished to make their own pattern of stone steps from the embedded concrete. The old, rusted lamps being lit doesn’t surprise her. Cables still run to the power grid that runs lines through the roughs from inside wealthy district. Not perfectly, several are destroyed; Liv’s never been interested in electrical work. Or even the old technology. Sunny’s brother is more interested in that, tinkering with old world tech, smuggling it into the roughs since all that is monitored and held over them.
Just like now, her head is always in the clouds. Books and music, fiction distracting her from the harshness of her reality until she’s able to leave. Able to meet new people in the countryside and have an actual life.
The wind picks up around her as she walks, the chill on her neck deciding she should go back. As she turns, and reaches for her scarf to bundle herself further, the garment is grabbed by the breeze and torn from her shoulders.
Being dropped back behind her a few feet away.
Liv grumbles under her breath, leaving a soft cloud to puff from her upturned, Grecian nose. Hunching slightly to grab it as quickly as she steps, but something catches her eye.
Before she’s able to grab her scarf, it’s snatch from the ground by a shadowy… thing.
“Is that… a rabbit?” Caution muffles her voice to a whisper; Rabbits don't tend to wander out at night.
Vaguely rabbit shaped, but as she draws closer, opalescence eyes shine from the shadowy blob. No matter how close she gets, the details remain obscured. Like she’s looking through mesh. It’s ears and fluffy tail are impossibly jagged, yet still rabbit-like. It scurries further into the brush when she nears yet stops just short of disappearing. As if beckoning her.
Or more likely taunting her.
For a moment, her thin, dusty rose lips quirk into a frustrated pout as she weighs whether she wants to chase some rabid animal into the dark of the Roughs ruins, whether her old, ragged plaid scarf is worth the risk. Then it seems to laugh at her.
Subtle, childlike snickering coming from the creature only a mite away from her. Liv would be terrified if she wasn’t so annoyed.
Darting after the beast, giving into impulse to retrieve her scarf. Twisted trees and fallen debris dare to catch her as she weaves through ruined structures. Branches claw at her sweater and pull her flannel open, inviting the cold. The wind whips harshly against her pale olive skin, furthering her need to bundle back up. Her flannel give some reprieve as she wraps herself, but the loss of her scarf only fuels her need to get it back. A vicious cycle, no turning back.
Sure, she’s lived here forever, but the cold still goes right through her. If she’d known she’d be running through the ruins, she would’ve worn a warmer jacket.
Liv dodges spike-like roots protruding from crumbling walls, the beast corralling her into a ruined building covered in flora. Pushing aside the curtains of creeping vine, dropping what felt like a pound of scattering dust onto her head, and following into a dubious opening into a ruined building. Stopping short when she loses sight in the pitch-black. The sound of little paws she’s listening for gets disrupted by water dripping and the groaning echo of the rubble under cold wind at the entrance.
She fishes out a box of matches, shakily fiddling with the stick for a light. It’s even colder in the dark, causing a prickle in her hands that’s barely kept at bay by the tiny flame. There’s no sign of the beast, so she steps further inward. Her mind screams to turn back, the uncomfortable walk home in the frigged wind would be preferable to getting lost and freezing to death. Then she hears the beast’s distorted giggle to her right.
Following further, she catches sight of its eyes again. Or… is it eyes? The same opalescence that she remembers the bunny-monster having grown larger as she draws closer. A swirling, glowing… thing, like out of a dream, sits ahead of her at the size of a double door set. Yet like a puddle staining the wall and the floor. She bristles in a curiosity overshadowed by the wrongness. Taking a step backwards.
Whatever it is, it’s exuding a light warmth that calls to her freezing form.
“Feels like a ‘Hansel and Gretel’ trap to me.” Speaking to no one but herself.
Liv nearly turns, but the tiny beast catches her eye nearby. Chewing on her scarf lightly and looking up in her direction with those unearthly eyes. She scrambles to catch the beast, caging it in her arms.
It struggles for a moment before curling into her for warmth.
“Oh.. were you just cold, too..?” You’re sort of… cute, in an unsettling kind of way.”
Its fur is the softest thing she’s ever felt and seems to suck in all light that attempts to unobscured it. She curls the scarf around her neck and swaddles the strange little ‘void bunny’ in her flannel. The creature simply look up at her under dark eyelashes, and a few more of those opalescence disks open around it. Two? Six? No.. eight eyes.. like a spider.
“Hell of an introduction Little Spider.. Liv’s giggles are interrupted by a rumbling, cracking noise. Fear etches its way onto her face. An earthquake? Oh no..
Liv scrambles to her feet and books it, now towards the opposite direction of the strange glowing splatter to get out from under the ruin. If it’s an earthquake again, she doesn’t want to be trapped in a dark hole. A large hulking piece of concrete from above crashes in from of her, knocking her off-balance. Spider startles, wiggling in her flannel before popping right out.
“Ahh..? Okay..?” She struggles to pull herself back onto her feet, when something is tugs at her scarf. The rabbit-thing is tangled, seemingly on purpose, into her scarf. Looking up at her with strangely intelligent eyes for merely a moment, until the rumbling starts up again. Then concrete cracking.
Spider bolts towards the glowing puddle, dragging her behind, and it startles Liv how effortlessly she’s roped along. She struggles against the beast as the ruin above her peppers sediment onto her in small chunks. Liv screws her eyes shut in response to the shadow of a larger chunk breaking off and falling towards her. It crashes into the ground just shy of her feet just in time for Spider to tug her further towards the doorway, but not before a fist-sized chunk of concrete knocks her right in the temple.
The ruins engulf her as she loses consciousness.
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There was once two ethereal beings at the dawn of time: the god Arimus and the goddess Elinoie. The legends say they fell deeply in love with one another when they were still young. The goddess embodying life and creation, and the god representing what comes after, good and bad.
They, together, created a thriving place and breathed life into the beings who reside there. The god being tasked with protecting the veil, the barrier between worlds.
They had five children at first, their eldest, known now as the moons of Lethes. Which encircle the plane and signify the phases of day and time. Then came the sky filled with stars, their daughters.
Elinoie had love for all the creatures that became. From the stars that shone to the smallest insect. But, Arimus grew jealous. Since her attention was scattered among their young, and the life blossoming from their creation. He wanted Elinoi all to himself and began destroying anything he could to regain her attention. Including one of the moons. Her eldest son, now a handful of space dust scattered across The Lethes' sky. The debris moves in rotation with his siblings, left as nothing but a carcass. The nights are dimmer without him.
The goddess known for her love of all life had a temper so hot it could rival the brightest inferno.
Of all the things he destroyed, she couldn't forgive their own child being slaughtered. Ablaze with rightful rage, she retaliated to his tantrum. She defeated the god easily and sealed him away for the protection of the rest of her offspring. Leaving him buried beneath the soil of their love for all of eternity.
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A Fool looks up at the moon at her brightest, just before the night when her son’s scattered glow dims her mood. But reaching the peak of the hill in his stride, a form catches his eye.
Curled in on itself in a pile against the stargrass. Curiosity and worry guide his feet, and the masked fool startles slightly as a voidrabbit scurries in front of him and hisses in warning.
It’s eight pupils slitted, and jagged maw agape in warning, showing it’s glowing spilt tongue. Guarding the obscured form that he’s so curious to see. Getting low, slowly, he beckons the beast.
“There, there… little one, I am a friend.” Kneeling, he strips a glove off his hand and offers stained fingers for an introductory sniff. Its mouth closes and eyes soften while approaching, and the creature chitters in response. Then it scurries to hide itself among the fabric obscuring the form it was protecting.
It’s merely a kit. It must have only just gained it’s voidhop magic. Likely losing its mother and litter and attaching itself to the first being it saw.
The stranger beneath his knelt form stirs, groaning. Taking initiative, the masked man brushes it’s hair away. Her hair, from what he can see. Unless she otherwise corrects him once conscious. The rabbit nuzzles and curls into her overcoat.
A large bruise on her temple directs his attention. Brushing an uncovered thumb over it until the bruise fades, then returning his glove to its place.
Her vision is hazy when she wakes up. But, the ache in her brain from whatever hit her began to numb somehow. Her eyes and fingers feather across the lavender grass. Grass?
Her eyes drift down to her hand as she grabs some, the incorrectness lost on her after a moment, she then shifts her attention to the rabbit’s buried form in her coat. Shifting to an elbow she looks ahead of her, ignoring the blooming headache, only to get caught frozen in wonder.
A starless sky.
One giant moon, and four little ones cast a glow against the purplish grass beneath her, and it glitters like starlight. Where’s the light even coming from?
“If you stare at her too long, you may go blind madame.”
The fool’s soft voice finally rips her attention from the blackness, almost a whisper like he was trying not to scare her. Spider wiggles in her arms in a protest, before she’s lifting them into her arms while scooting away from the masked man in front of her.
His mask is Venetian style; she’d seen it in an old cultural book. Curly black hair protrudes from a tri colored fool’s cap. The bells attached twinkle in the wind like a subtle chime. Almost silent. A turquoise glow emanates softly from the eyeholes. Yet they hold a steady shape, as if a pair of shy, patient eyes. Frames by the gold embellishments of his jester themed mask. A familiar heat rises to her cheeks as if she’s some teenager again. Has anyone looked at her like that? Spoken to her with such softness, like she’d break if their voice raised?
Letting out a gasp, she scrambles to look anywhere but the man’s soft eyes, of which she’d been staring for nearly a minute straight…
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── .✦ A/n: Thanks SO Much for reading! I got a lotta plans for this! Please feel free to comment! I also have this up on AO3:
〢here〢
Infernal Entanglements| Shichiro & Kalego/OC Story
18+ MDNI (Eventual Smut, not in chapter)
Chapter 1: Heartful beginnings
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How was she the only one who noticed when Iruma went missing?
Uta worked alongside Iruma at one of his part-time jobs, for she needed the money the same way he did. Born in Wales but grew up on the road. And in her adult years she went to Kyoto Urigei which helped in providing a side hustle but she relied mostly on part-time jobs to get by. When she met the young boy a few years ago she was immediately protective, because what kind of parent would let their little boy work in such dangerous environments?
She earned the name Uta due to her real name being a bit of a mouthful in Japanese, the fact that she graduated from a design school, and because she’s always coming up with creative ways to help her coworkers. They didn’t necessarily want to be doing these jobs either.
Uta would always pack too much for lunch, knowing Iruma often didn’t have one. Hearing his plights, a solemnity in his eyes even when he would say it’s okay, she would imagine taking in the boy. Giving him a place to stay, even if motherhood wasn’t something that interested her. Iruma was sickly looking at the best of times, gaunt and with a look so innocent in his eyes like that was all normal. And, he smiled through it all. And in the moments where she fed him, and gave him her ear, that smile was a little brighter.
So, when he went missing? And anyone she’d talked to couldn’t recall him, like he’d never existed? That filled her with a deep dread, quaking in her bones as she searched for him, asked anyone she knew who knows him. Part of her wanted to hope that his parents finally saw the light, that he was at home with a full belly and warm blankets. But the last she’d heard, he was on a fish boat, one that returned without him in it. She should have been there, on that boat with him..
Rumors spread about his parents. She knew they were carefree from Iruma’s stories, that he was the one providing for them even as he barely ate. But they recently came into a large amount of wealth which spread like flies into their neighbors mouths and beyond; of course, her searching for a boy they supposedly had only fueled the rumors that they had sold him.
A few months in, they couldn’t help but brag about some demon shit. That they’d made a deal with the devil for profit. No way right? Must be some human trafficking crap. But she tracked down the whistleblowers, then the boy’s parents who seemed to be doing well for themselves.
She can’t quite recall what she’d said to them, maybe even threatened, because she was looking at the proof of their misdeed.
So busy had they been being greedy pieces of shit that they’d left the ritual site still intact. Demonic symbols in a portal-esque shape on their wall and burnt out candles strewn about. She could still doubt the validity of course, but in her soul she could feel remnants of the boy’s light, like she was following the one trail that leads to him. If it is true, then it isn’t fair.
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Medusa ‘Uta’ Ophiriel and Iruma Suzuki similarly had rough home lives. Forced to take care of themselves far too young. While Iruma’s parents just didn’t give a damn about him, in Medusa’s case, her parents moved a lot when she was a kid and her mother had been terminally ill since she was young. One day, her father left. She never knew why. So she became the sole carer of her mother, and herself, until the woman passed and Uta was forced to learn how to care for herself in a world not made for people like her.
She had to tough it out on the streets a few times. And although she couldn't always stand up for herself, she leant her shoulder to others. To Iruma, who became her hope. She was the one looking after Iruma for the last few years and even split her pay so that he could eat actual food and shared her tiny apartment so he didn't have to sleep in a tent again.
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Her body seemed to move on it’s own amidst her stupor, taking the unholy book the pair had left sprawling amongst what Uta hoped was animal blood. To summon a demon, the same one they had.
The world went dark for a brief moment, and she felt nauseous; but when the light reached her again she was in an office. A fancy one and sitting across the desk was… well a demon.
If she didn’t believe it all before, it was hard to argue against it all now.
He introduced himself as Lord Sullivan, and he was not as she expected. His voice modulated from deep to almost goofy depending on what he was saying, and she couldn’t read his eyes behind the too-small glasses.
“Are you the one who took Iruma Suzuki?” She asked. Desperation laced her voice even though she tried to steel herself in front of one she could practically taste the danger coming of off. And at the mention of the boy, he seemed to perk up. His demeanor shifted from alert to relaxed in a micro-second as he nodded.
“How… is he?” Uta didn’t want to assume the worst, especially since the Sullivan’s body language was lax, and almost eager? She startles when the man.. er, demon? Clasps his clawed hands together and gushes.
"Yes, Iruma-kun is doing so well! He has made so many friends and I am very proud of him for his grades. My adorable little grandson~ do you want to see pictures?”
Saying she experienced whiplash in that moment from his whole personality changing would be an understatement. And even moreso when Sullivan pulls out several photos of Iruma he’d seemingly took.
Iruma does look well. Not as gaunt, maybe even a bit chubby. And his smile is the brightest she’s ever seen it, but that brings up conflicting feelings. She came here to plead for him to be returned, even considering offering up her own self instead if the boy was alive.
But he’s okay, more than okay it seems. Safe, happy, and surrounded by friends, albeit demon ones. Uta wouldn’t take that from him. She doesn’t see Lord Sullivans gleeful face fall a little seeing her conflicted smile. He may not be omniscient, but only the kindest, most devout souls would willingly follow someone into hell.
“He.. should be returning from school soon, if you would like to see him.” The demon offers.
The woman nods, holding her head a bit higher.
As promised, shortly after she could hear the sound of Iruma’s voice from somewhere else in the building. Or house? Is it a house? The demon had offered her tea shortly before and another demon, one with red hair rivalling her own, came in and set down tea shortly after, only to leave once Iruma’s voice reached their ears.
Opera, as the woman soon learned, went to tell Iruma where his grandfather was waiting. Usually Sullivan met Iruma at the door, or in the front yard with excitement.
“In here, Iruma-kun~” and the boy entered the office with Opera trailing after him. Iruma stops in his tracks as they lock eyes.
"Uta?" The boy’s eyes widen taking in her familiar form, and all could tell that he missed her. The one person in the world he wished he could have said goodbye to or could bring with him.
Uta immediately stood from her chair to let the boy nearly knock her over with a hug. Dropping to her knees to look the boy over. Just like in the pictures Sullivan offered, he was fuller, livelier, happier. She lets the boy bury his face in her sweater, something he usually does when he doesn’t want her to see him cry.
“How did you find me?” Uta could barely hear the boy’s muffled whine.
“Not even hell could stop me. Found your parents..” The redhead averts her eyes, and they land on Sullivan, who looks way too happy and giddy watching them.
"What a heartfelt display! I had no idea such a being existed in my grandson’s life…”
His smiled stretched wider as if he'd just thought of a grand idea. But he had been whispering to Opera moments before about the pair. It was actually Opera’s idea; it’s not like they could get into more trouble. That is sarcasm.
"Aha! What a masterful idea that I just came up with,” Opera gives him a look but remains silent. “How would you feel about staying, young lady? I cannot let him leave hell because he is officially my grandson, but what is a grandson without a daughter?”
The boy in Uta’s arms seemed to perk up the moment he heard his ‘grandfather’ offer it. His eyes peeking over the fabric of her shirt with hopeful eyes. Like a puppy, she could imagine the ears on him.
"You don’t have to… but I’d really like it if you stayed?”
And Uta could never say no to Iruma, it was her biggest weakness. Patting the boy’s hair and standing to face the smiling demon. She tries to hide her uncertain expression, and Sullivan speaks up.
"I wouldn't have offered if it wasn’t an option," His voice starts out deeper, but then dips back into cutesy, “An even bigger family, and a daughter to spoil?” The man spins dramatically as if no one is watching. Then pulls out an official-looking parchment from thin air with a soft smile on his face.
“It is your choice.”
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Originally started as a drabble series, but now i'm rewriting it! Many thanks to all of the fanfic authors i've been interacting and learning from!
