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shewhowillnotbenamed1 · 4 years

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@ravenfan1242 You said short and it started short and well, it just became this the way only an open prompt can... I hope it’s remotely decent!!!

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Raven leaned against the table and under her light weight, Jason could swear the solid structure shifted. From the moment she arrived, brandishing an eco-friendly tote, she was weighted down. Even after relinquishing the heavy bag, she still seemed to sag into it.

"I'm worried, Jason."

"Raven, don't be," he offered quickly. "I mean, look around you, it's fine."

"No, it's not fine." A heavy sigh exited her body. "There's something else I'm forgetting... I just feel like I should do something... Something more."

"That's pretty clear." He pointed at the huge bag of groceries on the kitchen counter. It was all organic and more than enough fodder to sustain two down and out Jason Todds for a month. Completely and utterly unnecessary. But, if you spent enough time brushing the tuxedo-covered and satin gloved elbows of the Gotham elite, you grew familiar with the concept of overcompensation. "I don't know why you're worried. I have everything I need here - and some. Oh and good morning - by the way."

Her blue-violet eyes narrowed and then ran their lap around the space for about the eighth time. "Natural light... That's the problem." She wrung her hands together. "There's no natural light... But, I should have figured that bulbs alone weren't enough."

"You think I need exposure to sunlight? That's certainly rich." Jason's chin jutted in her direction. "It really means so much coming from you." The half-demon's pallor was pretty standout in the tight black v-neck, more than usual, which was saying something. It was like someone had flipped a switch to change the settings to negative, then pointed it solely on her, leaving the colors of her skin and sweater equally inverted.

"You're vitamin D deficient - probably... Definitely. Or you will be..." Once more, she fussed about the beige corded string tote. She held up the carton of milk and then a container of yogurt, examining percentages, as if expecting these offerings to remedy the problem in the short term.

Jason half considered telling her she'd do well to down a glass or a spoonful herself, but he held his tongue. This was clearly about alleviating what she could, so as not to focus on the real problem.

"Underground to underground bunker...?" Jason stretched his arms behind his head leaning back onto the small couch in the hideout. "I can't help but consider this a vast improvement." The space was so very much like a studio. So it was practically palatial compared to his previous digs in the cemetery. He barely stifled a scoff as he contemplated yet another bitter realty. B couldn't be bothered to spring for a bloody crypt. It was probably confirmation of where he ranked. What did it matter? There was a revolving door of Robins anyway.

"So, I suppose... it can't be helped," she said somberly.

"Exactly. If you've been deep down enough, natural light becomes a cursory concern." It was meant to be an offhand remark, as he was sure she knew what lay underneath the earth's surface better than most. But Jason watched as the daughter of Trigon actually flinched. She was quivering slightly with her small shoulders starting to shake. Some part of this had to be beyond her, it was the only way for someone so powerful to seem so fragile.

Raven was the only one who could say with certainty that Jason Todd's coffin in Gotham Cemetery was empty.

The hardest part was supposed to be over, but neither of them really knew what was going to happen now.

Would he have good days and bad days? Or just all bad? What were the long-term after effects?

He could try to be proactive and take some preemptive actions. Perhaps he could borrow a leaflet from the shelf of one Raven Roth and start meditating to pinion the chaotic churn burgeoning inside him.

Steady the mind... You are neither a puppet nor a proponent of mania, or the voices inside...

He had a couple of chants he was mulling over. Raven knew the value of a good chant.

She also knew what it was like to have multiple forces pressing themselves upon her at any given time. Sometimes literally.

But the occasional moment in front of the crimson and gold strewn sky of dawn, brought her solace.

She'd told him that once, so he could believe it.

Maybe if he too could feel the sunlight, smell dewy grass, or hear the chirping of birds, it would make him feel less apart from the world. Or maybe he would just feel more strange and inhuman, like he was something indecent that didn't belong. And all the organic groceries and housewares in the world wouldn't be enough to rehabilitate the reanimated corpse of Jason Todd. Though Raven sure seemed willing to try.

Wait.

Did she really?

He sat up straight and craned his neck, not believing it. Among the health food items, Jason saw a flash of bright packaging. An orange tin of biscuits. He also spied a familiar looking paper carton. Well, well. Cigarettes.

Circumstances aside, wasn't Raven a do-gooder supreme, even among her fellow Titans? She didn't strike him as one to approve of cigarettes. They kill and all that. Though now she probably figured what was the harm? And he had to painfully agree.

In a state of delirium, he vaguely recalled mentioning something about a smoke. But how on earth did Raven find his favorite English biscuits? His weakness for Hobnobs was something he figured only Alfred knew about.

How did she always know?

Perhaps Raven had seen a small package on his place setting while visiting the manor and filed it away somewhere. In, but never out, she was Fort Knox. And like a fortress, one rarely ever knew what lay within her walls.

Hmm. A cigarette, black coffee and a biscuit for breakfast. Yes, the familiarity of it sounded comforting. Made the place feel downright homey. And suddenly Jason wanted her closer to him, to hold her, at the most. At the least, reach for her hand to squeeze it, if not to reassure her that she had done more than she could ever know.

"It's nice - the blanket... Wool, right?" He patted the soft blue throw resting over the back of the couch, another furnishing, courtesy of Raven. She pursed her lips, probably thinking he was being facetious again. "But, really. I appreciate this - and the food. Didn't I make that clear?"

"No, you didn't." She thumped the back of the couch, now hovering above Jason. "But, of course that would mean that nothing has changed."

"So..." A smirk spread onto his face, as he replayed the last fifteen minutes of their conversation. "That Vitamin D..." Raven blinked slowly, then rapidly, her expression no longer blank. "Being that you're a bit of a recluse, I always guessed that it's pretty difficult to come by... Is that by choice, or -"

"Raven?"

But the half-demon's body stood frozen like a statue. It was always so sudden and swift when it happened. Jason watched helplessly as the emotions arisen from her depths started to vanish themselves. The bloom of red left her face almost as quickly as it had come.

"Raven?"

It was utterly useless to even try. She was somewhere else now. On another plane - a private one - somewhere beyond this secret room to another. Raven was speaking with people he couldn't see and having conversations he couldn't hear. The severe line of her mouth softened and then curved over, as she bit her lip to stifle a tiny smile.

Well that was just great.

Currently, she was holding back a laugh at a joke that wasn't his. So, not people, a person. The only person it could be. And that man's timing was nothing if not spot on.

He stood up abruptly and -

Wait, was it even abrupt if no one noticed?

Who was to say?

But Jason wasn't going to sit around and wait for her to thaw. He figured he'd at least just pick up where she left off. He shot one more glance at Raven before he opened the empty fridge and filed in milk, eggs, and cheese. Huh. She'd gotten mild cheddar, not sharp.

Did anything at all get by her?

Of course, the fall of footsteps meant she was cooked. Defrosted, no longer in suspended animation. She glanced back and forth, calling out when she didn't see him.

"Jason... Jason?"

"Polo. It's not the manor. There's only one door and it's for the bathroom." That was harsher than he meant it to be. He stopped and sighed. "It was him, wasn't it?"

This was Raven, she didn't often lie, not even to spare feelings. "Yes. He... uh..." She paused for a while. Longer than was necessary. Five whole minutes went by. Was she conversing with him again? "Sorry... That was him. Dick hadn't seen me this morning and he seemed worried."

What did he somehow forget what Raven looked like?

Not likely.

Besides, didn't a mind meld render the need for that redundant? Or did theirs not work that way?

"Twice in twenty minutes, that's got to be serious."

"Well... Yes." She shrunk inwardly, holding herself tightly, amethyst orbs darted to the very corner of her eyes. It was the kind of shape someone twisted themselves into when prefacing a breach of something uncomfortable. "He wanted to make sure I was coming."

"Coming? To what - Birdy Book club?" Jason picked up another package. More cheese? Shredded and sliced in addition to the wedge. And Gods, was there crumbled in there too? He was perfectly capable of slicing or shredding or crumbling his own cheese. After all, he was well-versed in knife handling and had plenty of interesting shapes to carve things into.

Or had Raven removed all the sharp objects and replaced them with throw pillows?

"I told you." He shrugged. "You forgot? It's today." Then Raven's voice went low and quiet, as if she were about to speak about something improper. "It's the opening of the..." She swallowed. "Memorial today..."

The memorial.

His memorial.

Of course, he forgot, he hadn't wanted to think about it.

A can of tomatoes slid from his shaking palm and started to roll past his feet. The ghostly burn of verdant followed the steady path of the cylinder, until it bumped into the couch's leg, unable to go on unaided.

"Yeah..." he said after a while. When Raven didn't move, he nodded. "You should go..." He attempted what he believed to be an encouraging smile. Raven winced and Jason wished she wouldn't. He almost preferred pity. "You definitely have to go to that, don't you?"

"Well, yes I have to go. As a Titan and a friend of the family. I have to go and show my face." The half-demon avoided his gaze.

In spite everything that was thrown at her, Raven did the right thing. Why was it that he always seemed to say and do the wrong thing? He could feel a pull towards it now. Amplified. Not lulling like white noise. Loudly, it was rising, roaring in his ears. Burning, red noise.

All he could think about was why? Why this? Why today? And was he seriously unpacking groceries, when he should be in a grave?

What the hell was he doing?

When he shut the fridge, Raven was standing next to it, with her eyes glazed over, nodding at that which he couldn't see.

And she was talking to him again. In the middle of their conversation.

Perfect.

Raven was on it. She was taking care of everything. And everyone. This was best for everyone right now.

But that certainly didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

Raven would climb out of here once this was over. She could go out there and stand in the bright light - with him and their friends and family. Jason was stuck in a damned bunker and what did he get? A tin of biscuits and a pack of cigarettes. Concrete walls. Stale air. No sun. In his former life, Jason had never fully appreciated the sun or the air. He glared at the spotless, dustless, windowless room.

Was she really going to go off and fake it for the world?

And was he going to stay here underground, like he was dead - or as good as?

"Go, I'm all set here," Jason tried flatly. "You can go and put on a dress. Stand there at Dick's shoulder...let him hold your hand."

He had tried his hardest not to think about what his memorial would be like. And now, he couldn't help but picture it.

The specter of Jason Todd would hang silently above those in attendance. But since he wasn't dead, perhaps the only shadows would be cast by this latest slab of stone. Would it be a statue or a sculpture or an engraved tablet? He hoped this one would at least have a better inscription than the one in the cemetery.

Something like:

Jason Todd.

Never fully at rest in life or in death.

The war wages on.

Eternal.

A little noise ripped the image from him. Raven was staring at him with her eyes widened and shocked. She hadn't ever looked at him like that. Not even when she saw him covered in graveyard soil, suit torn to shreds, body broken. The empath faltered and took a clumsy step backward.

"Are you scared of me, Raven?" He felt worse than terrible. "Where is all that talk about not giving up and not letting go?"

"Gods. There's no doubt you're the same Jason. Still the same arrogant -" She clenched a fist. Was she contemplating shoving him? No. Ironically enough, he was too breakable.

"-ass with a selective filter, you mean?" Jason laughed, though the humorless sound of it was probably cruel. "That's crass of you, Raven. Don't they teach you not to speak ill of the dead in other dimensions? Better practice up on that custom before you step out of the town car."

"Stop it." She reached for him, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt. It was just a hair too big. Because there was a side effect that they could count on: atrophy. Notably, it was one of his least favorite. "It's not me you're mad at. But it is your day. So you can yell, or throw things, and...you can cry if you want to." Her eyes were brimming over with tears enough for the both of them.

He swallowed, wondering if it was too much, if she was taking on too much.

"Crying already?" Jason tried to smirk if not fall back into usual patterns, but he was finding it exceedingly difficult. He had never seen her cry, not even when she was brushing the dirt from his face. "Don't waste it all here. I know they're for me, but... I think you'll need to save some of those, for later."

"Yeah, I do." And then she laughed bitterly. Miserably.

She wiped her face on her sweater sleeve right as Jason felt a sharp impulse to brush them away for her. He ground his teeth. "You'll give 'em a good show - for me?"

"I won't have to, Jason." There was no need to glance at her to know the mask of Raven that everyone knew was back in place.

"Because... it won't be a show."

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crimson-mage-02 · 4 years

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Burning with Desire

Summary: Five years had past, things had changed with the Titans had grown up and went into separate ways. Until Damian had returned to Jump City from his training and was reunited with Raven, finding himself having with a burning desire he had felt for a long time.

A/N: This fanfic is my very first smut. Please be kind and be considerate with your thoughts and opinions when reading my fanfic. If you do not wish to read it then don’t.

It has been five years since Damian had left to train in the mountains with his father. She let her violet eyes glance at the trees from the spot where she and Damian first spoke to each other. She remembered him going into the Tower for the first time, seeing and felt that he was sad. And the time she had healed him after being injured by Jaime’s beam from the blue beetle. She had seen everything in his head, his past demons, and his memories as he saw everything about her. Her life in Azarath, her mother and Trigon.

Over the years, they grew closer than ever. Their friendship had blossomed into something more that the two had never imagined. It was much more stronger than loneliness and darkness both had inside. After being with the Titans, she found herself more at peace and at ease around Damian, he was the only person that understood her.

She walked around her apartment with Titus walking beside her. Just before Damian left, he wanted her to look after him for a while. And five years a really, really, really long time. But she loved looking after him and Titus keeps her company after moving out of the Tower to have her own space.

She still does go to the Tower to visit her friends, her fellow Titans. She knew Jaime has moved in with Traci, Gar and Tara are still living in the Tower, Kori is now married to Dick. Donna and Conner had something going on for years, but nothing happened until they recently had started dating.

Raven walked to the kitchen, grabbing Titus some food for him. She bent down to place the food and water in front of him. “Here you go.” She pet him softly while grabbing her phone, seeing her screensaver was herself and her friends including Damian. He was standing beside her with arms crossed, smiling at her fondly while Gar had his arm around him, grinning. Kori was the one who took this photo and let her have it.

She saw a few texts from the girls. She frowned seeing that they haven’t heard from Damian yet either. She frowned began to think he had forgotten about her and his second family. “Alright, I should get ready for the day.”

Raven stood back up and walked back to her room to get changed. She wore black leggings with a purple-blue top and had a black leather jacket with her hair up in a ponytail. She wore her light pink lip gloss and had golden earrings with a purple jewel in the centre. It was the last gift that Damian had given her before he went for his training.

She made sure to lock the door before she went off to work. After moving out, she started to work in a book café. It calms her down and she loved reading books in her spare time. She drove to work only to find out Kori was already there. “Oh, Raven! Hello.” Kori greeted her happily.

“Hello, Kori, do you want the usual order?” Raven asked with a smile.

“Oh yes please.” Kori smiled brightly.

Raven nodded and went to the back to put her bag in her locker and put on a apron before she make Kori’s order. She was also watching the news seeing that Bruce Wayne had returned to Gotham city after disappearing. She knew why, he was with Damian for training, for almost five years. No news about Damian. Typical.

“Here, one hot mocha and a strawberry cake.” Raven smiled at Kori.

“Thank you. And I couldn’t believe Dick was right, he is really back.” Kori said, watching the news. “But Damian hasn’t been announced that he is back.”

“No, probably still is training.” Raven said softly with bitterness. Kori frowned while eating her cake. She knew that the separation was hard. They had been in contact in the first two years of his training and then after that, he had stopped. They thought the reason was he was training hard as he could to become more of an efficient leader and most trusted member of the Titans. But his friends did understand the meaning of training with the big Bat when he is considering in retiring.

“Raven, I know Damian is not a man with words but through his actions, he does truly care about us, about you. I am sure he does have a very good reason why he stopped contacting us.” Kori reasoned while sipping on the hot mocha.

Raven nodded with a soft smile. Then her co-worker had asked her for help and immediately went back to work. She has taken both the morning and evening shift. She needed the money to pay the rent and it keeps her busy during the day. On weekends, she normally hangs out with the girls to rest up from all of her hard work.

She sometimes hang out with the rest of the Titans and often they ask her about Damian. She gives them short answers until he had stopped contacting her. She always wondered if his training had already stopped or he was ignoring her. She pulled her hair into a messy half bun and served her customer their food and drinks.

(~)

Meanwhile in a private plane, Dick was looking at his computers and smiled when a message came through seeing his daughter Mar’i in a photo, taken my Kori. He beamed with pride seeing his little daughter in a Nightwing mini costume.

“She’s all grown up looking like her mother every day.” A deep voice interrupted his train of thoughts making Dick looking up and grinned.

“Of course. She has. It has been five years already. And look Kori also had made her to be fitted in a Robin onesie too.” Dick chuckled, showing him another photo of his daughter. “Well, isn’t that adorable, Dami?”

“I thought we went through this, Dick. Do not call me that please.” Damian chuckled, sitting on a chair opposite where Dick was sitting. He is now wearing a black shirt with a leather jacket and wore blue jeans.

“Sorry, habits. I mean, you are all grown up and even taller than me and Bruce. I cannot wait to see everyone’s reactions would be. Especially Raven’s.” Dick laughed wholeheartedly with Damian looking away from him with a expression of guilt.

“Oh, sorry, Damian. Uh, Alfred had told me that you two stopped contacting each other year ago.” Dick apologised quickly.

“It is quite alright. I just miss her, and I don’t want to be a failure in her eyes.” Damian said softly, looking out of the window in the private plane.

“Well, we are on our way back to Gotham and you’ll be seeing her. She doesn’t know that, and you can tell her once you seen her.” Dick said to him.

“Yes, indeed.” Alfred came into the room and poured some tea for the two men.

“Alfred, please, rest up. I can handle it.” Damian offered kindly and poured some tea for him.

“Thank you, Master Damian.” Alfred smiled, accepting the tea Damian had poured for him. he rested easily in his chair. “It has been a very long time since you had seen Miss Roth. She is a very gorgeous woman.”

“Yeah, no wonder you two always talk to each other a lot before. Ahh to be young and in love.” Dick sighed, remembering his days with Kori and their moments.

“I am not entirely sure Raven wants to rekindle our relationship. It will take a long time to amend things.” Damian reminded the two as he clasped his hands together. “I doubt she’ll remember me all this time.”

“Master Damian, I assure you that Miss Roth does care about you, sir. You just need to tell her the truth.” Alfred pointed out with a weary smile and drank his tea.

“Also, just be patient with her. Just take it slowly and talk to her.” Dick smiled at his brother. “So, ready to go back? We are almost in.”

Meanwhile in the café, Raven was cleaning up the last table of the night. She has been cleaning and clearing the tables. As well as putting all of the chairs on the table. “Thank you, Rachel! Sorry to keep you late at night.” Her boss apologised.

“No, no. Thank you. I needed this and besides, we were short on staff today. I don’t mind working late for you.” Raven smiled.

“Still, I feel bad. How about you take the rest of the week off? It will do you good.” Her boss smiled. They said their goodbyes with Raven walking out of the café and sighed deeply. She looked at her phone seeing more texts from Tara.

She raised an eyebrow and then saw a dozens of texts messages. She scrolled down and then her eyes widened in shock. She looked at the messages over and over. She cannot believe her eyes. Damian really came back from his five-year training! Her thoughts were all over the place and shut her phone off before teleporting her things to her apartment and went to an alley to change into her superhero costume.

She flew all the way to the Titans Tower and saw Tara was outside waiting for her. “I have seen your texts. Is it really true?” Raven asked urgently.

“Yes, it is. He’s all the news. He just landed in Gotham City.” Tara nodded, pulling her into the lounge room to hear the tv local news. Telling the story of the return of Damian Wayne’s return to Gotham City and had greeted his father, shaking his hand in front of the press and the cameras.

“Wow, he really has grown to be incredibly handsome.” Tara commented with a grin, nodding in approval seeing his strong and tall composure.

“Hey, Tara!” Gar pouted wile Tara smiled.

“Aww, don’t worry, chuckles, you’re my handsome man forever.” Tara chuckled, kissing him on the lips before pulling away to put the plates back on the counter. “Rach, don’t worry, I am sure everything will be back to normal. I’m sure he’ll come and visit.”

“I’ll help T. And Raven, we all are aware of what happened between the two of you, but it will help if you just talk.” Garfield said before he helped his girlfriend cleaning up the kitchen.

(~)

The next morning, Raven woke up to hearing Titus barking. She groaned and laughed, feeling him licking her face. “Oh! Come on! Okay! I’m up. I’m up.” She got up and then got the covers off of her. She walked towards her door and followed Titus into the living room to make breakfast for the both of them.

She bent down and pet Titus. “I have big news for you, big fella. Damian is back.” Raven said with Titus whined and tilted his head, licking her cheek. “Yeah, he is back, alright. After five long years.”

She made herself some tea and eggs with bread, sitting on her sofa, watching the news. Titus was sleeping beside her while she watched. “It has been said that Damian is now inheriting the Wayne Enterprises, taking over his father’s role.”

Raven remembered how Damian never wanted to inherit the company but now he is in charge of Wayne Enterprises, if he is happy then, he is happy. She’ll let him do whatever makes him happy. SH checked her phone and saw she was needed at the Tower.

Once she got that text, she immediately got dressed in her costume. She teleported herself in front of the Tower seeing Dick had come back and announced they have a mission. They were to go to Gotham City and help Batman to take down a few goons.

Raven made a portal for them to walk through with Nightwing leading the team. She flew over the buildings and then heard gun shots from a warehouse and saw people running out. She helped by putting a protective shield around the civilians.

Tara arrived with Raven in the warehouse and saw Batman fighting against Penguin’s goons. Tara used her powers with the rocks trapping the goon from escaping. The rest of the Titans arrived in time in helping the Dark Knight. He punched a few while he saw Raven on the ground, flipping away from the goon and kicked him on the face.

She levitated the boxes and they had hit the goons on the heads with Garfield turning into a gorilla helping Blue Beetle and Traci to round them up. Superboy and Wonder girl managed to get the remaining goons and tied them up with Donna’s lasso.

Conner smirked and crossed his arms. “Well, this was nice. Can’t remember the last time we all hung out as a team.” They all turned to Nightwing talking to Batman not far from them. “Since when Batman smiles…. Wait… no way!” Conner exclaimed in shock as he took a step back.

“What is it?” Donna asked.

“It’s… It’s….” Conner didn’t get the words out of his mouth until he watched Batman taking off his mask, revealing Damian wearing his father’s costume. Everyone gasped in shock with Gar fainted and fell on the ground.

“Dios Mio!” Jaime exclaimed in shock, looking at his former leader. Raven stood in shock with Tara by her side. She cannot believe her own very eyes, seeing Damian back in his father’s uniform as Batman, the Dark Knight.

“Hello, everyone.” Damian shown them his signature smirk and then it disappeared once he saw Raven standing next to Tara. He was both thrilled and nervous meeting her after 5 years. He was still enchanted by her beauty and calming presence. He has so many things to say to her. So many things he wanted to fix with her.

“H-Hey, Damian. It is great to see you buddy, and taller!” Jaime chuckled nervously, rubbing his neck, looking at how much his grown and how more muscular he is now.

“Yeah, now I can you Macho Muscles.” Tara chuckled with Donna laughing softly, silently agreeing with her.Gar managed to get up and looked at his muscles. They weren’t as muscular as Damian and pouted.

“So, how was training?” Conner asked excitedly wrapping an arm around his friend.

“Alright, we can talk about this after we get these guys arrested and then you all can catch up.” Nightwing winked at his brother who slightly glared at him. Damian put back his mask and walked beside his brother when the police had arrived.

Conner and Jaime handed the bad guys to the police with the girls helping the civilians as they all stared at Batman in awe. Raven watched closely and saw Damian going down to the kids level and talked to them. She was shocked to see how he was so calm around children now. It warmed her heart and was happy to see such a great development after 5 years.

She saw him finishing his interaction with the children and Gordan talked to him, thanking him before he walked away. Damian and Raven at last, looked at each other. He walked towards her and she was looking up at him. “Shall we talk some—” Damian heard his father was talking to him by a comm.

“Sorry, yes father…. Right away.” Damian sighed and looked down at the sorceress in front of him and looked at his friends. “Titans. How about one last mission and then we can all catch up for dinner?”

They all went back to Jump City and fought against criminals and had saved a few civilians from a burning building. Raven used her powers and summoned all water to put out the fire while Damian as Batman got a few people out of the building with the help of Superboy.

The building was falling down with Terra helped moving the rocks from the ground to prevent the upper part of the building not to fall down on other people while Jaime and Traci got the people out of the way. Once the fire had died out by the firefighter and the ambulance had come to their aid with the Titans and Batman stood by, seeing they were safe.

After a few minutes, Garfield’s stomach had rumbled loudly. It was loud enough for them to hear. Damian chuckled in amusement seeing his friends hasn’t changed that much and looked over at Raven who was giving back a doll to a little girl with a gentle and kind smile.

“So, aiming to get her back in your life?” Conner asked him.

Damian looked at him with an eyebrow’s furrowed together. “I… I don’t want to mess things up.”

“You won’t. Just talk to her, man. Anyway, Tara and I are going to cook a whole huge feast now that you’re here.” Gar grinned.

“Should we really trust him cooking our food?” Damian asked, looking at Jaime.

He just smiled nervously. “Don’t worry, Terra was the only one who cooked their meals.”

(~)

In the Titans Tower, Damian was changing out in his normal clothes in his old room. He forgotten how small it was. He smiled, remembering how he’d always train in his room and remembering the first time he saw Raven meditating down below underneath the tree.

He heard a knock on his door and turned to the door. “Come in.” The door opened and saw Raven in her purple shirt with a mini skirt with stockings. She stopped when she saw him shirtless, his strong muscles flexing while putting on his black t-shirt on.

“Uh, sorry, I was uh, telling you that dinner is almost ready.” Raven said timidly while Titus came in barking. Damian’s face lit up seeing his dog after a very long time as he licked his face. he almost fell on the floor. “Titus, behave.” Raven smiled a bit.

“Thank you for looking after him.” Damian thanked her while petting his dog.

“It was no problem. I love looking after him and his company in my apartment.” Raven replied with a smile. Damian looked up at her in confusion. He thought she was still living in the Tower after he had left for training.

“You are not living here anymore?” Damian asked, standing up.

“Yeah, I moved to an apartment in the city. And I am working in a book café.” Raven nodded while Titus was licking her hands.

“Oh, well, as long as you are happy.” Damian smiled at her and then they both heard Donna knocking on the door, announcing dinner was ready. They all walked down in the dining room, seeing the table decorated with some dinner cloths and the table has been changed from a white to a black dining table.

Damian was impressed by the meals Tara had cooked and Garfield was helping out, placing the food on the table. He noticed how Conner and Donna were on the balcony, talking and flirting with each other. And he was mostly surprised Jaime managed to finally have a girlfriend of his own.

“Alright, everyone, dinner time!” Tara smiled, sitting next to Gar. Everyone dug right in eating everything with their hearts contents. Damian was sitting next to Raven who was feeding Titus who was sitting down next to her chair. Dick and Kori arrived with some dessert. Mar’i came running towards Damian who carried her and let her sit on his lap. Everyone were happily chatting and catching up with Damian and him telling them about his training.

Dinner was over, Mar’i was already asleep with Titus sleeping next to her on the couch. Damian smiled at the little one with Dick sitting next to him smiling proudly and fondly at his daughter. “you should be proud, brother.”

“I am proud. Kori and I were having the life. The best in fact.” Dick chuckled wholeheartedly. “You know, you can have that life too, with Raven.”

The new Batman glanced at Raven who was helping washing the dishes with Kori and Tara. He frowned. “She must be mad at me not responding at all.”

“What? I’m sure she’ll understand.” Dick assured him while drinking his beer.

Dick and Kori had got Mar’i, managed not to disturb her sleep and decided to go back to their apartment. Tara already cleaned up her kitchen and let Raven and Damian off. “Thank you. The food was delicious, Tara.” Raven smiled.

“Yes, thank you.” Damian nodded in agreement.

“You’re welcome, you two. And Damian, do me a favour, please take Raven home safely.” Tara winked as the empath blushed bright pink.

The two walked out of the Tower seeing a car out in the front. Raven looked over at Damian who got out his car keys and started the car. He glanced over at Raven who was walking past him with a portal opening. “W-well, good night.” Raven timidly said to the new Dark Knight and was about to walk through the portal.

“Wait!” She turned back to see Damian was looking the right words. But nothing came out of his mouth. He rubbed his neck and before looking at Raven who stood patiently with her black and red ombre hair blowing in the wind gently while her eyes sparkle underneath the night sky.

She looked onto his emerald eyes, there were beautiful, and she’d always get lost in his emerald eyes. She watched him putting his hands in his pockets. “I thought we could talk.” Damian said to her.

“Yes. We could talk for a bit.” Raven nodded slowly.

“Well then, you may hop in my car.” Damian said as he walked around to the other side of the car and opened the door for her like a gentleman. Raven walked towards the car slowly and then went inside with him closing it.

Damian drove in an underground carpark underneath an apartment. He led raven and Titus the elevator, she noticed it goes all the way to the top. The very top of the building. Once the doors opened, she could see the whole city. Just before they went to his apartment, Raven gotten a few spare clothes and her books. She looked at the breathtaking view from outside of the window. She could see all of the lights in Jump City.

“It is not much like my father’s but, it will do.” Damian said, placing his luggage on the couch. “I hope it is alright.”

“It is rather a beautiful view from up here.” Raven smiled, looking out of the window. Damian smiled softly and walked towards her. Feeling that they were slowly opening up to each other after being apart for a very long time.

“I should apologise.” Damian apologised, putting his hands behind his back, looking out of the window by her side.

“For what?” Raven asked even though she knew what he was going to say and how he felt.

“Not being able to contact you. I was…. So solely focused on with my training. Not telling what was my reason for not contacting you sooner.” Damian explained looking down at her.

“Damian, it is fine. You just wanted to prove to your father that you’re not a failure and have no interruptions.” Raven said looking away with a frown and hugged herself.

“That was the reason and there was another.” Damian said turning his whole body away from the window, making him facing her completely. “I didn’t want you to think of me as a failure. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Raven looked up at him and her expression softened. She reached to caress his strong jaw, cheeks and looked into his charming emerald eyes. Damian let out ragged breaths looking into her violet eyes until he leaned down and planted a gentle, soft kiss with her placing her small hands on his chest.

They kissed deeply with them exploring each other’s mouth. Damian wrapped his arms around her waist, grabbed her thighs, making her wrap her legs around his waist. He carried her carefully, feeling her soft curves, exploring her whole body, and massaged, groping her ass with her moaning with satisfied pressure. He sat down on his couch, devouring her lips, tasting blueberry flavour from her.

She panted softly with him peppered her neck with soft kisses with her holding onto him tightly, biting her lip. He kept on feeling every bit of her body and he pulled away from her neck, panting heavily and looked into her eyes and went to lean in for another kiss but she brushed her fingers on his lips, stopping him from doing so.

“Um, sorry, uh, it’s not that I don’t want to continue… I just want to freshen up first…. If that’s alright.” Raven half whispered and panted, looking at him while pressing her forehead on his.

“Of course, you may. There’s a shower upstairs on your left.” Damian whispered back, letting her got off of him and let her take a shower first. She quickly grabbed her clothes and ran up the stairs and she bit her lips excitedly, running up the stairs.

Damian chuckled in amusement, seeing her running up the stairs with an ecstatic smile. He stood up and went to get his stuff away in his new room. It was spacious and had two cardboards. He opened the doors to the cardboards and placed his shirts and his pants inside. He heard whining from Titus who tugged on his pants. “Okay, okay, buddy. I can show you your new place to sleep.”

He led Titus to a small space in the lounge and shown him his little bed. He wagged his tail happily and started to play with his toy. Damian also sorted out his items and looked at the time, it was getting late and he should take a shower as well, only to notice that Raven has been in the shower for a very long time.

Raven sighed softly and felt the warm water touching her skin and melted. She loved the shower he had in his new apartment. His bathroom was…. All black and the lights inside the shower was dimmed in a lighter shade of blue. The toilet seat was not far from the shower as it was adjacent to the sink.

Next to the shower was the large silver bathtub and then the door, the only entrance and exit of the bathroom. She was surprised at how large the bathroom was. As expected, he was the rich son of Bruce Wayne. Just like Dick but he still chose a normal lifestyle he wanted to live in for his growing family. She wondered if she could ever have that kind of life.

She heard the doors opening and she quickly covered herself with her purple towel and saw Damian leaning on the door frame with a smirk on his face. “Damian! Get out! I-I’m trying to take a shower and your…… naked!” Raven exclaimed as she turned away from him after a few good seconds of staring at his…….. Oh Azar! His… his….

“Sorry Rachel, I thought you were in the guest room’s toilet.” Damian chuckled, covering his waist with a spare towel that was hanging on the railing on the wall near the door.

“And I thought this was the guest room.” Raven thought, turning to him again and covered herself with her drenched towel. She took a good look at his muscles, broad chest and his scars on his arms, neck, and chest.

“You like what you see, Roth?” Damian smirked with his dangerously glowing and charming green eyes stared into hers.

“Yes, I-I mean n-No!” Raven stammered, turning away from him. “Ca-Can you please let me shower in peace?”

Damian hummed softly and walked slowly toward the shower, opened the door with the water hitting his chest and looked at Raven’s small figure as she turned around. Seeing him so up close. He knew she was still processing that he had came back after five years and won’t do anything further to make her uncomfortable.

She trailed her fingers along his arms, his biceps and her eyes were locked with his. She eventually threw her towel away and let him see her hourglass body and her breasts. He let his hand wonder around her figure, and he placed gentle kisses on her neck and at the same time closing the shower door.

Raven held his face in her hands with her kissing his lips softly yet firm with his arms on her waist. Damian moaned and melted in the kiss, she was a bit shorter than him, he lifted her again and had his hand caressing the back of her head and pinned her on the wall of the shower. They kissed and devoured each other, he licked her neck and ears with her whimpering, holding his shoulders.

She wrapped her legs around his waist with her caressing his face and neck as they kissed deeply, exploring their tongues, the taste of their lips. Damian kissed and bit her bottom lip and stared into her eyes. She trembled in place, but his soft touch had comforted her silently that he will stop if he did made her feel uncomfortable.

She trusts him as he trusts her with all of their hearts. She breathed out shakily with him slowly trailing his kisses and then groped and massaged her breasts gently with her biting her lips. She let out a soft gasp, holding him closely to her chest. “D-Dami.”

Damian licked her nipple making her whine and moan loudly, she covered her mouth immediately. He smirked and pulled her hand away. “Please, I want to hear that soft angelic voice.” Damian grinned, licking her face and her right ear.

She growled softly. “I….am a half demon… not an angel, if I must remind you again.”

“You may be a half demon… but you are so much more than. You’re an angel. My angel.” Damian confessed softly, putting her strands of wet hair out of the way. He let her stand on the floor and he let her be in control.

She explored all of his scars. She gasped softly seeing how large the scar on his chest was. She began kissing his chest with him groaning softly. Caressing her head while she kissed every scar she could find on his body. She pinned him on the other wall below the shower head. Both of them were drenched with water running on them. She felt his muscles and then let her hand explore his manhood. He grunted softly feeling her massaging it softly.

She bent down and started to lick it slowly as she began to suck it. Damian grunted while holding her hand. “R-Rachel.” She moaned and licked every bit of him, she began squeezing his legs while sucking and licking his dick.

Damian groaned softly thinking how she could lick it so passionately and effortlessly. He looked down seeing her wiping her mouth, seeing how much he came. He sighed in pleasure and panted softly with her standing up again, kissing him on the lips deeply while she stroked his dick slowly and steady.

“You really do like that, don’t you?” Raven whispered, against his lips while his tongue slipped in her mouth, moaned. She rubbed her legs together against his cock. She watched his reactions while she slowly grind against him in a steady rhythm. He looked into her eyes and looked into his eyes once again as if she couldn’t wait.

He looked at her with a serious expression and held out his hand out to her. She gladly accepted and held his hand. He turned off the faucet, ran his hand through his slicked wet hair. Damian and Raven kept making out until they both stumbled towards the sink with him lifting her up, Raven played with his locks, moaning into the kiss.

He opened the door and led her to his bed room with the lights off and lamps on but dimmed with the colour blue and red mixed together. Damian sat on the bed with her intertwined their hands together and she pinned him on his bed before kissing him again. She pulled back again, looking at him while he stares at her. She held his hands, never letting go of them and placed them on her chest.

Damian sat up and licked every part of her chest and neck with his dick sticking out in front of her clit. She moaned and sighed softly, tilting her head back. He kissed and licked he rub cage while rubbing and massaged her breasts, this time little bit more rough.

His eyes looked up again with her kissing his forehead and cheeks, biting, and licking his ear. He held small body with his strong arms. He rubbed his dick in her clit, making her shouting out and murmuring words. “Sorry, you don’t want to do this?” Damian panted, caressing both sides of her cheeks.

He heard her mumbled something underneath her breath. “What is it?” Damian asked again, looking at her, having his full attention on her.

“You can do it. Put it in.” Raven replied. “But with protection, please.”

He nodded in understanding as he let her get off his lap and walked to his cupboard, getting a condom while watching her every move. She laid her back on his bed, legs spread wide open. He gotten hard again and crawled on the bed again, his eyes went straight at her clit and began licking it while he massaged her breasts. She moaned loudly, biting her lips and tilted her head while he began to lick it with passion and inserted a finger, making her shouting out, holding his sheets tightly while feeling so good from his touch that made her shudder.

He smirked, putting one more and made her cum with covering his fingers, making her humping into his hand. He sat up on his knees with her looking up at him with an embarrassed look. He was enjoying watching her reactions, seeing her beautiful body in front of him. He was grateful that he was going to make her his.

He placed rubbed his cock against her clit, making her moan again and rubbed against it. She looked into his eyes and trailed her fingers on his abs and scars that were covered in sweat until she felt his cock was going in quickly and she shouted out both in pain and pleasure with digging her long nails on his back with him hugging her tightly with their chests touching one another.

They both panted heavily and looked at one another. “C-Can I move now? If you want me to stop, you can just shove me, Rachel.” Damian assured her until he felt her pulling him into her strong hold.

“No. Keep moving.” Raven trembled and whispered in his ear. Damian wasted no time and began grinding and thrusting softly. “D-Dami.” She could feel it twitching inside of her. He began to pick up the pace hearing her loud cries while holding her in his arms.

He let her go and pinned both of her wrists on the bed and with every thrust he made. Made her feel like she was in the stars and in heaven. He panted heavily and grunted with every thrust he made. He gritted his teeth and lifted her up, sat down on the bed with her wrapping her arms around his neck, began to thrust harder and faster with her shouting out in pleasure and scratching his back.

They both leaned for one final kiss and with a few thrusts, they both grunted and shouted with her back arched with her legs wrapped around his waist. She had Damian’s face buried in her chest. They both laid down back on the bed, panting tiredly with sweat all over their body and their bodies intertwined with each other. Damian laid on his pillow, watching his beloved to sleep and he pulled the covers on them and fell into deep sleep with content smiles.

(~)

Raven woke up and opened her eyes slowly seeing a naked scarred chest. She looked up to see Damian already up, staring at her. She covered herself but still smiled at him, caressing his cheek while he kissed her palm. “Good morning, beloved.”

“Good morning, Dami.” Raven smiled lovingly at him.

“Hope it was okay.” Damian hoped while playing with her hair.

She looked at him in confusion until she figured what he had meant, and she smiled at him in reassurance. “Dami… it was the best night of my life. And you were more than okay.” She trailed her fingers over his lips with his emerald eyes shining brightly.

He smiled in relief, seeing his love was satisfied from last night’s…. activity. “That is a relief.” He sat up on his bed. “So… what shall we do today? Unless you have work later on.”

“Hmm, well, my boss let me have the week off. How about you?” Raven asked, making circles on his chest. “We could have dinner at my place and have a repeat at my place. We can have Titus with Dick and Kori.”

“I am off until tonight, I am meeting my father later. Sorry.” Damian sent her an apologetic expression with her sitting up, letting him seeing her chest.

“It’s alright, I can wait for you…unless you want to do it again.” Raven seductively whispered in his ear while kissing his neck and him laying down back on his pillow with a smirk. She was straddling him, and she trailed her hands up on his chest, making him shudder softly.

“That would be splendid, beloved.” Damian smirked with her smiling brightly as the two laughed happily as they were in each other’s arms after five years, happy to be in each other’s embrace and were assured that they’ll be together from now on to overcome whatever throws at them.

#damirae #fanfiction #my fanfiction #Damian Wayne #raven]#damian x raven #garfield x terra #jaime reyes #traci thirteen #Donna Troy #superboy #nightwing #starfire #Teen Titans

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excuseme-howdareyou · 5 years

Text

Day 3: Injuries | Bonding During a Mission | No Capes/Civilian AU

...........

He was back.

Jason leaned over the counter, arms tucked underneath him and elbows resting on the countertop, and glared down at the pipsqueak on the other side. The little gremlin glared right back, all 4'6" of him.

"Todd," the brat whose name Jason had yet to learn greeted him in a cold fashion.

"Demon brat," Jason greeted back, thoroughly enjoying the spike of extreme displeasure on the gremlin's face. "A bit too young for coffee, aren't you?" he continued with a sharp grin," Come back in eight years and then maybe you can order something off the big kid menu."

Aaaaand, there it was. The brat opened up his mouth and let out a slew of shrieks and offended noises, calling him uncivilized and the like. Jason couldn't help but laugh. It was a good thing the shop was pretty empty now, or else he'd be annoyed with how the brat was taking up space in front of the ordering counter. But hey, the day was slow and this was the most entertainment he's had all day.

"-and I demand you stay away from my brothers!"

Whoa, hey. What?

"Who the hell-" he was about to ask what brothers he was talking about when the bell over the front door rang out.

"-mian?!" a familiar voice called out, sounding harried," Damian, you in here?" One of Jason's fellow baristas, who went by the name Dick, ran in looking like...

... like he was looking for his brother.

"Tt," the Demon Brat turned away from Jason to address Dick," You are being overdramatic, Richard."

While before Dick was looking frantic, as soon as his eyes landed on the gremlin standing at the counter, his expression turned furious. "I am being the right amount of dramatic!" he yelled at Demon Brat (who was supposedly named Damian)," You can't just run off and not tell anyone where you're going! We've been searching everywhere for you!"

It wasn't often Jason got to see Dick lose his temper, but when he did it was always a momentous occassion. Working in retail would make a saint lose his patience, and boy is it always fun to watch Dick go off on rude customers.

Jason just didn't realize that the demon brat who's been coming in here the past three days just to glare at Jason was actually Dick's little brother.

"This is the fourth time this week, Damian!" Dick was pinching the kid's ear now, despite the angry growl and kitten claw swiping he was getting," You are supposed to walk straight home from school; no where else! Alfred was expecting you home an hour ago!"

Idly, Jason wondered if it'd be tacky if he made himself a mocha cappuccino to sip on while he watched.

"Just what are you doing at my work, anyways?"

Now that, he couldn't resist. "He's been coming here the past three days," Jason piped up," Apparently he's here to 'warn me off'. I think. Something about 'stay away from my brothers'."

Damian hissed at him, but the words were already out. "What the- Damian!" Dick rounded back on his brother and yanked on his ear again for good measure," Why are you harassing my coworkers?!"

Not coworkers, just this one.

Damian grumbled something, but they couldn't be entirely sure what it was. "What was that?" Dick demanded.

The brat huffed and said a little louder," Tim comes here after school for hours. Why aren't you berating him?"

'Tim?' Jason thought,' The kid who looks like he's half dead and sit in the corner with a thousand textbooks every day?' That Tim? The Tim who once came up to Jason and-

He surreptitiously started coughing behind the counter. Right... That Tim.

Damian glared at him as if he knew where Jason's thoughts had gone, but Dick didn't seem to notice. "Tim comes in here to study Damian," he said exasperatedly.

"Hey, it's okay if the brat hangs out here after school if he wants to," Jason added, an idea blooming in his mind even as both brothers' heads whipped towards him.

"I don't know Jason..." Dick began," Damian's supposed to be doing his homework right after school and..."

"I'll make sure he gets his homework done," Jason chirped. His smile grew, and if only Damian noticed that it was getting a little wicked, then that was their little secret. "He can sit right here at the front table," he said with that devious grin straight at Damian," Right where I can keep an eye on him."

Dick was faltering," I suppose if it's okay with Bruce..."

Time for the kill shot. "I'm sure the kid's just getting lonely at home, since you and Tim are here so often. He probably just wants to spend more time with you."

And while the Demon Brat's face became absolutely murderous, Dick's entire expression lit up into one of glee. "Oh, you're missing us, Dami?" his ear pulling suddenly turned into a bonecrushing hug (Jason almost felt bad for the kid; he's been on the receiving end of one of those famous Dick Grayson hugs. Like being crushed by an octopus)," Why didn't you say so? I'm so sorry, if you want to spend time here at the cafe with us, you can start coming here every day after school!"

The particular look of 'I'm going to murder you,' was hilarious on a ten-year-old's face and Jason couldn't wait to see what it would take to make him combust into a tiny, angry squirrel again.

........

*Two Weeks Later*

Tim sat at his usual spot in the corner, studying as usual, but this time accompanied with more glances at the counter than normal. It's been two weeks. Two weeks since Damian randomly started showing up at the cafe and sitting at the front table with a sour expression and his backpack strewn all over the table. Dick wasn't here today, but that didn't stop the Demon Brat from showing up.

It would be more of a mystery if Damian wasn't constantly glaring at his table every time Jason so much as brought him a glass of water.

"So remind me again..." speak of the devil, Jason was now standing at Tim's little corner of study-horror with a smile and thoughtful expression. It was a handsome smile, crooked and sweet, and Tim's made his feelings about that smile quite clear.

"When do you turn 18?" Jason asked.

Behind him, Damian was scowling something fierce and one hand was rhythmically stabbing his notebook with a pencil. But Jason was ignoring it all.

Tim grinned back up at him. "Three months," he told him.

That smile that he liked so much widened until it was near wicked. "Perfect," Jason rumbled and then -to the surprise of both Tim and Damian- he ducked down and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Let me know if you need more coffee!" he called behind him as he sauntered off to deal with a cursing and screaming Damian.

......

*One Month Ago*

"In four months, I'm going to turn 18, and I'd really like to take you out for a date."

Jason's head whipped up at that, nearly spilling hot coffee all over his hand. "What now?" he was sad to say his voice squeaked.

Standing on the other side of the counter was one of his regulars, Tim, with the most awake expression Jason's ever seen him with and a determined look in his eyes. "Would you like to go on a date with me in four months?" he asked.

"I umm," Jason had to blink a few times -okay, maybe a dozen- just to get his thoughts in order. This was Tim. Tiny Tim who came in every day with a shit ton of textbooks, ordered insane amounts of coffee, and who Donna has been insisting he's been flirting with for two months now. (He's cute, Donna! What do you expect Jason to do in the face of a hot, nerdy boy?)

And he... wanted a date?

"Err, yeah," bumbled out of Jason's mouth before he could stop himself," But I gotta ask. Why four months? I uhh, I mean, this weekend's free?"

Tim smiled, a wicked smile that really had no business looking that good on his face. "Because I really want to climb you like a tree and you've made your opinion on dating minors quite clear," he said matter of factly, bringing up that one time Jason yelled at a 25 year old man coming in with his 17 year old date. (A call to the police was made that day)

And... yeah.

Jason made a sad little wheezing sound, his face turned insanely red, and that coffee was a bust as he accidentally filled the entire cup with the milk he was holding instead of just halfway. Tim grinned at him, then with a wink grabbed his coffee sitting on the counter and sauntered off back to his table.

Goddamn, he was trying to kill him! Jason wheezed and shook his head to dispel certain... images. 'But what a way to go...'

#it's late #i know #I'm sorry #batfamweek2020 #coffee shop #no capes #civilian au #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #Batman #dc comics #dc #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #tim drake #funny

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itzagothamcitysiren · 4 years

Text

Welcome to the Family

here’s part 2!

link to part 1 here :)

Tell ‘Em That It’s My Birthday pt. 2

At this point in his life, Tim Drake should be used to expecting the unexpected but here he was still being left in awe. It was just like all the other times throughout the last handful of years. It was just like how he didn’t expect he would be the one to put two and two together and find out that Bruce Wayne and Batman were one in the same but he did. It was just like when he didn’t expect to become the newest ward of Bruce Wayne after his foolish attempt at proving he could be the Batman’s new partner by ticking off the Penguin when he hacked into his personal funds and nearly drained all his accounts but he somehow did.

He hadn’t expected that stunt to make him have to change his identity and have his parent’s go into hiding as Penguin sought out revenge against him for costing him millions but it had. He also hadn’t expected that after all the trouble he put the Batman through during his quest to become the next Robin that he would actually convinced Bruce to take him on but he had. But what he really didn’t expect was the sight that was slapped right in front of him.

“Erm, thanks?” Tim said, confusion and annoyance laced in his tone.

His mood was already sour no matter how hard Stephanie had tried all day to keep him cheery. It was his birthday, she constantly reminded him as if he needed to be. He knew it was his birthday. He knew that she knew that it was his birthday. He knew that Alfred knew, that Bruce knew and that Dick knew. He knew; he didn’t need her constant reminder that he should be in a good mood because it just made him feel even more vexed. But in this moment, he’d take her hounding him all day over this current predicament.

It wasn’t even a predicament but it sure felt like one. He felt like he was a beat up dog trapped in a corner, feeling the sweat start to form on his brow as he stared down at the younger boy who’d been terrorizing his very existence these last couple of years now. Maybe that was a little overdramatic but maybe it also wasn’t, the kid did trying maiming and killing him a couple of times. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, letting his eyes dart away from the boy.

“Steph told you to do this didn’t she?” He asked Damian, his fellow Robin, who had just caught him in the hall and simply said that it was his birthday.

“Tt, like Fatgirl has any control over my actions.” Damian tutted, rolling his eyes and putting a hand on his hip.

“You really shouldn’t call her that.” Tim said, feeling his nerves begin to be tugged even more. He bit his tongue and looked away from Damian for a moment. He was itching for a fight but knew it was best to wait for one during patrol tonight. Rolling his eyes, he looked back at Damian, placing his own hands on his hips. “Okay well who then? Bruce? Dick Alfred? They want you to play nice to me or something?”

“Please. I am quite aware of your birthday, Drake.” Damian scoffed, clearly offended at Tim accusing him of doing anything out of his free will. It wasn’t even like he wished him a happy birthday, Damian huffed to himself; he just stated the fact that it was his birthday.

“Oh, well, thanks Damian.” Tim said thrown off, trying to ease up on his stance.

“Tt. Don’t take it too personal, Drake. I know everyone’s birthdays. I studied everyone’s file on the batcomputer upon my arrival.” Damian explained. He narrowed his eyes at Tim as he continued. “I just brought it up because I’ve noticed your mood and wanted you to know that just because it’s your birthday that you best not be distracted tonight on patrol. It won’t be becoming of you; even you.”

“Gee, thanks Damian, I’ll make sure of that.” Tim grunted, glaring daggers at the boy before brushing past him.

He headed back to his original destination before being cut off by the demon spawn: his room. He intended to lock himself up in there for the rest of the afternoon and drown himself in work. He had hoped that it would make him forget about what was eating at him but found himself unable to concentrate. All day and night he kept looking at his phone waiting and waiting for a call or a text; anything that would show that she remembered. Hell, Damian remembered and she didn’t?

It haunted him all night and much to Damian’s smugness, during patrol. Even the next day when he decided to distract himself by getting a head start on his summer work. Stephanie sat across from him at the dining room table talking about some show or YouTube video. He didn’t really know as her voice sounded like it belonged in an episode of the peanuts. His heart stopped when his phone went off, his work abandoned in front of him. A day? It took her a whole to remember?

The call went to voicemail by the time he could get his body to move, Stephanie sitting across from him asking if he was going to get it waking him up. When the phone went off a second time he felt himself get mad and instantly ended the call without picking up. He saw Steph’s mouth drop from the brim of his vision but didn’t say anything, turning to his book instead. Steph knew he was upset that she forgot but didn’t think he was that upset until her own phone went off and he reached across the table and ended the call before she could answer it herself.

The next day was basically the same, with Tim ignoring Stephanie as they went about their business. His brain was tired and for once he allowed himself a break; a break from the hard work at least. His fists pounded against the punching bag, having turned down Damian when he taunted him by offering to teach him a thing or two.

The punching bag is Damian’s face, the punching bag is Damian’s face, he repeated over and over again.

As he felt himself go faster he also couldn’t stop and feel like he was being watched. He knew Damian was across the way, practicing some hand to hand with Dick, who had thankfully intervened earlier when Damian started to pester Tim. Stephanie hadn’t been around, taking the day to go spend time with some friends and knowing that Bruce was in the office as well as Alfred being out running some last minute errand.

That said errand was now revealed to them as he finally pinpointed the source of him feeling watched. Coming down from the stairway was Alfred, with a very tired but somewhat excited looking in tow. Tim stopped his punching for a moment to give them a look before quickly jerking away and heading towards the bench where he had placed his towel and water bottle.

His heart pumped as his made his way over, his mind racing with thoughts of how this confrontation would go. He didn’t think she’d actually showed up. He thought he’d had more time to brush his feelings under the rug and get over it. It honestly wasn’t a big deal; honestly. But he couldn’t stop himself from caving into himself as he heard her great Dick and Damian who were the closet to her.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be with the Titans?” Dick pulled her into a hug and releasing her after nearly crushing her to death.

“Yeah, I just erm, missed you guys, was gonna come home for a couple of days.” She waved off as she ruffled Damian’s hair. She smirked as he swatted her hand away and glowered at her. “Gar and Kori can handle everyone without me.”

“Gar? So you’re on a nickname basis with Aqualad now?” Dick eyed her, knowing all about her and the Atlantean’s little fling as Kori described it to him.

“Oh please.” She shook her head Dick, I’m almost 23. I can date anyone I want.” She rolled her eyes, making a note to have another talk with Kori about sharing her personal matters with people.

Damian grimaced at her, the thought of his sister being with that simpleton disgusting him. He looked up at her. “Have you been eating alright? Getting enough rest? There is no way in sound mind you would willingly consummate with that halfwit.”

“You too?” Halley gaped at her younger brother. “You haven’t even met him, you’re just copying Dick.”

“For once Grayson has the right idea about something.” He nodded firmly towards Dick.

“Yeah- hey wait!” Dick started but trailed off to glare down at Damian.

“How about you two discuss this while I excuse myself from this conversation,” She smirked, cutting between the pair and making her way over to Tim, calling out to him as she got closer.

“Tim!”

Halley’s smile was wide, almost guilty looking even as she stood by the bench he was now sitting on. Tim stared up at her blankly, slightly peeved when he saw her disappointed face when he didn’t stand right up and give her his usual overly enthusiastic greeting. What did she think, he blew out. Did she think that after the couple of weeks of barely talking to him and then forgetting his birthday that he would jump up and be excited to see her?

“I just got off a nearly six hour flight, I’m starving.” She said softly, rubbing her stomach for emphases. “Wanna go get some food? Just you and me?”

“Not really hungry.” He shrugged, standing up and moving to head out of the workout area. He narrowed his eyes at her, wanting to if just for a moment, to make this hard for her.

“Tim-,” she started off, pleading.

“Why are you here, Halley?” he frowned, turning around to look at her. “Why aren’t you at Titan’s Tower?” he said, knowing that he was never going to actually walk away from her.

“Tim, I’m sorry about not calling the other day. I just totally spaced on what day it was. I don’t even know how.” She said with widened eyes, wanting to convey how bad she felt about it. “It’s just everything with the new kids and training-”

“And Aqualad now too?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Look, Tim I’m sorry, please just don’t be mad at me.” She pouted, embarrassed as she knew Dick and Damian, even Alfred could most likely hear them.

Tim bit his lip and sighed, knowing that he was overreacting. He knew that she was busy training the new generation of Titans. He should be more understanding, both of them had hectic lives. He just couldn’t help but feel bitter as she’d never forgotten something like this before. He just wasn’t used to her not being around as much as when he first arrived at Wayne Manor. He gave her a soft smile, relenting in his anger.

“Okay, okay. I’ll forgive you but on one condition.”

“Anything!” She jumped instantly at the chance.

“I want Bat Burger and you owe me a trip to the arcade.” He said pointing a finger at her as he listed off his two demands.

“Deal.” She nodded, smiling and dragging him into a hug.

Tim smirked, as he hugged back. He couldn’t never truly stay mad at her. Their bond was too strong to be worth ruining it over something that was an honest mistake. He knew he had promised Bruce that he’d spend the day training with the others. But everyone knew Tim never stopped, pushing himself as far as he could, having an obsession with proving himself. Though with promising Bruce, at end of the day he knew Bruce would be okay with him playing hooky for once. It was his belated birthday anyways.

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artxyra · 5 years

Text

Daminette Twins AU | #4

*Big thanks to @northernbluetongue and the anon person that sent me nicknames. I hope you like the way that I used them. Anyhow, I’m pretty sure this AU has taken over my mind right now as I haven’t started any of my other WIPs.

Drabbles 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Genevieve woke up screeching that night. Tear flowing freely down her cheeks. Thomas barges into the room to comfort his twin. He hates seeing her like this as this was a normal occurrence. Genevieve’s prone to nightmares that would haunt a person depending on the dream. Their mother hated that Genevieve inherit the same mindset as her when it came to dreams and would usually comfort the crying girl but since she’s not here, that responsibility landed on Thomas.

“Hey, hey, it’s not real, Genny.” Thomas comforts soothing the poor twin. She shakes her head, her body shaking.

Loud knocking pounds against the door causing Thomas to glare at whoever the unwanted person may be. Thomas kisses his sister’s forehead and lays her back down onto the bed. He moves over to the door with a knife in hand. Where that knife came from, you probably wouldn’t want to know. Thomas slowly opens the door.

“Hey, don’t hurt me. I heard Genevieve’s crying and came to check on her.” It was Jason. Thomas turns to Genevieve then back to the door. He knows that Genevieve’s comfortable around Jason as it was shown a night ago when the anti-hero read to her. Nodding, the nine-year-old opens the door.

Jason rushes in, immediately pulling the weeping girl into his arms and brings her closer to his chest. Thomas joins the comfort and lays his head against the older man’s shoulder. Genevieve cries herself to sleep.

“Uh...thank you.” Thomas murmurs, into the sleeves of Jason’s shirt.

Jason looks at the little Wayne in awe. The boy continues to surprise him.

“How’s your mom?” Jason asks, after a long pause between the two.

“She’s amazing. I just wish that she was here with us instead of battling whatever demon decided to plague Paris, right now.” Thomas tiredly mumbles into the anti-hero’s arms. Jason stares at the boy in shock. He was going to asking more questions, but the poor fellow fell asleep on him like a cat. Jason could not move without waking him or Genevieve up.

I guess I’m stuck here then, Jason thought, before getting comfortable in the insanely large guest bed.

The next morning, Jason stands awake at the counter in the middle of a discussion with Thomas. Apparently, bonding over knives created a bond between the two before anyone else made their way into the kitchen.

“So, Marinette actually bought you your first knife.”

“No, it was Aunt Kagami, actually. I found her practicing her knife-throwing skills one-day and asked if she could train me. Mom through a fit, but once she saw that I was enjoying it, she let it go, and ever since I’ve been using throwing knives.”

“Yikes kid, how about you and I go out one day to buy knives without your dear ole’ dad breathing down our necks,” Jason suggests, folding his arms and leaning against the counter.

“I’d like that,” Thomas answers, looking towards the entrance to see Genevieve standing there with one of her shyest smiles ever. “Hey Genny, come join us.”

Genevieve nods and skips over to her favorite (don’t tell Dick that) uncle and twin. “What you two talking about?” She asks.

“Todd was showing me his knife collection.” Thomas’ eyes shine causing his twin to chuckle and turn to Jason.

“When will breakfast be ready?” She questions with a smile.

“Not sure, Gen. Though, Alfred should be already up if he’s not getting the others up by now.”

Genevieve looks to Jason with her head tilt to the side. “Gen?”

Jason nods, however, Genevieve let’s out a soft laugh. Jason turns to Thomas for an answer.

“Uncle Luka already claimed Gen, chose a different one.” Thomas states.

“Drats!” Jason groans as he pounds his fist against the table.

“Master Jason, it is too early in the morning for your antics.” Alfred scolds the second oldest of Bruce Wayne’s sons, “Good morning Master Thomas and Miss Genevieve. Do you two have anything in mind for breakfast?”

Thomas and Genevieve look at each other before deciding together, “Crepes!”

“Petite Pixie!” Jason calls out.

“Todd, if you ever call my daughter Petite Pixie one more time, I will end you.” Damian rejects the newly dubbed nickname.

Genevieve shrugs, “It’s decent, but I think Aunt Kagami would hurt you if you ever call me that.”

Alfred begins to make the crepes that the twins suggested for breakfast. Thomas looks everywhere but at his father.

“Thomas, my main man, help an uncle out here.” Jason pleads to his nephew, who only covers his mouth his hand to hide the impending chuckle.

“So, how did you two slept last night?” Damian asks as his father and the rest of his brother make their way into the kitchen.

“I slept okay after my nightmare had passed,” Genevieve announces, causing the men to freak out except for Jason and Alfred.

“What? When?” Dick starts firing questions at the girl who hides behind her twin, scared.

Thomas growls at the older men, and if it wasn’t for Alfred hiding the knives, there would have been blood drawn.

“Breakfast is served.” Alfred interrupts, making sure that no damage will be inflicted this early in the morning.

Everyone gathers in the dining hall for breakfast but not without sending Genevieve concern looks every so often. If it wasn’t for her brother, Genevieve would have scurried off to her room or to the main room to dance.

Jason kept giving cautious looks to his brothers, daring them to try anything over the table while Damian was conflicted. As much as he wants to comfort his daughter, he could only to so much until the pair feels comfortable around him.

Alfred hands each of them their schedule for the day and walks out of the room. Genevieve covers her mouth to hide her giggling of the men’s despair while Thomas wasn’t even hiding his infamous inherited Damian Wayne smirk.

#daminette twins au #daminette #maribat #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug au #miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug drabble #mlb x dc #ml x dc

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ladypyb · 4 years

Text

Kiss-Me-Quick

Rating: T

Relationship/s: USUK

Note: I missed writing fanfics for my otp... I hope you like it!!!

|ao3|

Arthur is aware the duke was his neighbor. But that didn't give the blue-blood an excuse to summon him so suddenly in the morning! Even if, this has been happening for a few months... or that he's got a little crush on the man.

Something wet dripped onto his left hand as he reached for the scrambled eggs. Alfred paused for a moment, slightly irked at the wet circle on his skin before continuing on. Plop! Another dropped on his mango juice, noticeable ripples rocked against the glass. Okaaay, he was not imagining that. The young man looked at his breakfast, suspicion rising. And fear. He knew he was a sought-after bachelor (often an asshole), but no one would go that far as to--

He felt it again on his hair, wet and large.

Alfred slowly placed his fork and knife with such gentleness and quietness that even the dowager queen would have raised a brow as nothing about him was ever that gentle and quiet (Now, that wasn't true!). He watched as a droplet fell on his barely eaten breakfast. The duke thought, 'Well, shit', and braced himself before looking up.

As he raised his head, he realized it wasn't some sort of monster or demon creeping on him from the canopy of his bed. But he still wasn't relieved when he noticed an angry cloud above him. Slowly swirling in a stormy gray as big wet drops began trailing down on him, his bed, and his breakfast.

The frightened duke shoved aside the breakfast tray. Standing up and away from the bed, he watched as the little angry cloud followed him. "Toris!"

The cloud got bigger and bigger as Alfred tried to cover himself from the rain inside his own bedroom. He looked at his now-soaked breakfast forlornly before yelling again for his butler. "Toris!" Alfred heard quick steps and an anxious "Sir?--"

"Toris, help!"

A brunett opened a door to a flooding room of Alfred shielding himself with a pillow from a storm inside his bedroom. Toris back away from the door as Alfred began running out of his drenched chamber with his equally soggy pajamas. "Sir, what's--?"

"No time! Call for him!" He narrowly avoided crashing down on his butler before regaining balance.

"Sir--! I'm sorry but did you mean--?!"

The duke bolted down the corridor, the large raining cloud was following him. Alfred noticed it immediately and flung open a window that faced the gardens. "Yes, him!" He threw his legs over the window, "The wizard in the backyard!" Alfred gripped the window frames, preparing for it as the rain pattered on him.

"ARTHUR!"

And the duke fell. From the window on the third floor.

Sir Arthur,

The Duke of Sableon is currently under a situation that can only be relieved by your powers of such caliber. I wish to ask for your time to identify the cause and, hopefully, cure such troubles that have befallen the lord of the house.

I hope for you to come visit today or at your earliest availability.

Head Butler of the House of Sableon,

Toris Laurinaitis

Arthur gave the soldier that had given him the letter with a long bleak stare. The dark-haired man avoided his eyes. The wizard scoffed as he threw the letter on the pile of leaves beside him. Arthur was just having a peaceful morning watering and tending to his quaint garden of herbs and flowers when a soldier rudely interrupted his conversation with a little dryad. The soldier had shoved it to him with such 'urgency' he scared off Arthur's new friend!

He had to give some credit to Toris. It wasn't often a butler could write a letter with more formality and propriety than his master. Though, formality and propriety aren't exactly what Duke Jones is recognized for. Handsome? Yes. A gentleman? Arthur was dubious. But polite and refined? Ha, no!

He snapped his fingers and the pile of leaves with the letter was on fire. The soldier audibly gulped when the burning pile crackled. The bright red flames didn't spread nor did it smolder the grass beneath.

"Wait here," Arthur commanded the other with a finger pointed to the ground. Daring the man to follow him to his house.

Arthur took his sweet time looking for his satchel. After all, he was requested (more like ordered) to go solve another person's problems so suddenly without much thought to whether or not he was busy himself. Well, he wasn't really busy as the wizard had nothing to do except restocking a few not-really-needed potions here and there. But he was curious as to what mess the manchild of a duke had gone up to. Sighing, Arthur hopes it was not as worse as the curses he was afflicted before.

When he heard the loud yell of his name from the other side of the hedge, Arthur was tempted to peek in and sneer at who dared to scream the wizard's name so early in the morning. And, perhaps, curse the fellow that ruined the peace. The incident was strange, but he refused to break a personal oath of being someone a bit more 'proper' than his previous years.

From what was implied in the letter, it may have been the young lord that had caused him to over-water his Forget-Me-Nots.

As he locked the front door, he couldn't help but not deny himself of the satisfaction of delaying the summons to the estate that was just beside his little cottage. Just out of spite (and anxiousness to what problem Alfred had gotten himself into). So he turned the keys ever so slowly it rivaled that of how the hour hand of a clock moved. He saw the soldier shifting his feet with impatience in the corner of his eye. Click!

"Well then," the wizard grumbled as he adjusted the satchel over his shoulder, "Lead on."

Arthur has been inside the mansion of his neighbor a few times, which was a lot more than he would have liked. He can practically draw a map of the whole mansion on the back of his hand. The wizard liked the interior though, who wouldn't with such wonderful and meticulously planned furnishings, he didn't like the owner just as much as the aesthetic that seemed to vary but connect each individual room. He liked the duke's ability to connect such different pieces much more than he'd like to admit himself.

The green-eyed wizard was led to a corridor that only led to the most beautiful garden of the Sableon Fief. Huh! Arthur doesn't agree with that sentiment.

The soldier nodded at him to proceed to the hallway. The familiar face of Toris greeted Arthur as they neared the glass doors to the gardens. Once again, the brunett's face was the same nervous mess Arthur had seen the last, what, thirteen times during this month only? And it was only the third week! The duke certainly had a less-desirable streak with curses, didn't he?

"Sir Arthur!" The butler's face was of pure relief when he turned to see the wizard calming treading down the hall. "I'm sorry that I interrupted your morning again but--"

Arthur waved his hand. "Oh, that's alright. Is it still the same case of dog slobber?" Ugh, that one was a fairly common curse. Easy to brew, difficult to make the afflicted person drink.

The butler shook his head. Arthur drolled on. "Frog Vomiting? Blue Dues? Vampirism? ..."

"Err, nothing that has happened before actually." Toris tugged at his collar. The wizard's presence was always heavy, though it was perhaps the overly-large cloak.

"A new one, then?" Arthur sighed in annoyance, "Was it severe enough that you had to move him outside his room?"

"No, definitely not as serious as the one from last week, though, " Toris reached for the doorknobs, "It's as equally messy-- It's better for you to see for yourself."

The stained glass doors opened to a garden with such colorful vibrancy and a drenched man sitting on the chair under the roofed table set. A man who was... rained under the roof of the outdoor terrace. Arthur barely restrained an amused whistle. Now that was new.

The rain was falling freely from the sloped ceiling to the visibly upset man in front of Arthur. The stormcloud was a familiar sight. The wizard can't help but smirk at the soggy mess his employer had gotten himself this time. "So, " Arthur wheezed to control himself from outright laughing, "Who did you piss off this time, my lord?"

The duke pouted like the man-child that he was, not at all happy but used to the curses inflicted upon him. "How 'bout you guess, Arthur? I'm sure it won't be that hard with all the rain on me!" Alfred locked his eyes on the wizard's daring the other to even chuckle at his predicament.

Arthur coughed to hide the laughter that found its way to escape from his lips. He was getting paid a handsome amount if he was civil, after all. Still grinning in hilarity, he chided the young duke, "I take it you didn't heed my advice to not attend the party held by the Kirklands then?"

Alfred huffed, denying another mistake he made, "Your sister doesn't exactly take losing in an argument well." Thunder rumbled from the stormclouds as if to grumble along with the cursed aristocrat.

The wizard thanked Toris as the butler offered a seat and excused himself. The green-eyed man sat across Alfred with a humph and a cringe. "Half-sister. We share only the same father and the name 'Kirkland'. Nothing else."

"You forgot the eyebrows."

"Yes," Arthur hissed, "Be that as may, at least I know the right potion to help your drenched arse." The wizard vaguely gestured to the flooding side of the patio. "Lady Aisling often used the same rainstorm curse on those that pissed her off. Often enough for me to memorize its breaking potion."

The duke perked up to Arthur's statement. The man's blue eyes were filled with tired relief. Arthur understood that; he was once victimized by his older sister by the same curse years ago. The rain and thunder were very uncomfortable. And freezing his bollocks off.

Huh, this was the first time he had seen Alfred without his glasses. The duke was starting to turn red from the cold water. He must be going under a fever, too. But that wasn't his problem! Not at all. Not even when his companion's golden complexion seemed to turn gray under to the constant raining on him. Nor when the younger man almost died from last week's curse. Arthur thinks that Alfred may as well have been cursed to be cursed almost every waking moment. At least the wizard has a reason to see the duke now and then if only to remove or break said curses. Arthur will keep that to himself.

"I'll come back this afternoon with the breaking potion."

"Oh thank the gods. I don't think I can handle being wet any longer."

The wizard scolded himself to not think about something that would rather like to be wet in the presence of a sculpted young man. "Hm. Oh!" Arthur looked around to the multitude of flowers and plants in the garden recalling that he didn't have a particular ingredient that was needed for the removal but was present behind Alfred, "You don't happen to mind if I ask a Kiss or two from you, my lord?"

Alfred suddenly slipped in his seat and spluttered in surprise, "Wha-what! ...I think I, uh, misheard you... ?"

The wizard rolled his eyes, "A Kiss. I'd need one for the breaking to work." Arthur raised a regal brow at the flushing and squeaking man in front of him. The rain was pouring buckets now. At this rate, Alfred is definitely going down with a cold.

"Uh, I- Wha..." The duke adjusted himself on his seat. Alfred was being difficult again, was he stingy about plucking a single flower? Arthur admires a person that takes care of their garden but this is actually important!

"I only need one Kiss."

"Now?! As in, right now?"

Arthur pursed his lips. "No, it's alright if I take one when I'll come back in the afternoon."

The other was silent as if his life depended on the choice he'd make. Arthur watched as his companion took a deep breath and raised a finger, face, and neck a flattering shade of pink. Oh, he wasn't actually furious, was he?

"One kiss... Just one."

"Yes. Kiss-Me-Quick and nothing else. Just that." Arthur gathered himself and stood up. "I expect it to be vibrant and not messy this afternoon, my lord. I'll see you then." He turned and walked his way back to his cottage, reminding himself to not forget to put a few sunflower seeds this time.

The wizard was completely unaware of the crimson mess he'd left the duke in. Muttering and covering his face with his wet, wrinkled hands.

"... He, he actually...! Expecting me to--! A kiss! ... My first...!"

The wizard speed-walked his way to the back garden, absentmindedly shaking the contents of the bottle in his nimble fingers. Today's problem was easier to break compared to the other curses. Granted it was because it was Aisling's most-used spell. And that he had lived in the same household as her for over half of his life.

Nonetheless, an early breaking meant early payment. And a saved blond blue-eyed hunk of a duke. Though, Alfred really should his mouth shut half of the time. If Arthur wasn't living nearby, the aristocrat would have a hard time finding a competent magician and herbalist in the area. The fief was known for its industrial strength, not a heavy reliance on magic. The young Duke of Sableon was both lucky and unlucky at the same time.

Arthur twisted the stained glass doors open. Alfred was there, standing near the multitude of flowers. As the wizard got closer, he saw the duke pluck a bundle of Kiss-Me-Quicks from its bushes.

A large cloud was still situated atop the golden hair of the lord of the house and almost half the overly-huge beautiful garden. Arthur watched the big and hurried way the droplet hit the sun-kissed skin, now turning a pale tan due to the cold rain, and on his nearly-transparent shirt. Even in the distance, he could make out the other man's musculature. The wizard felt the tips of his ears heating up and Arthur was sure it wasn't because of the three o'clock sun.

He marched over to the cursed duke, pulling the hood of his cloak as he did so. The cold drops of rain were cold as it began to soak through the think fabric of his cloak. "Good afternoon, my lord. Are you ready?"

Arthur didn't mean to be near soundless when he made his way but the younger man flinched at the sound of Arthur's voice, dropping the flowers in his hands before facing his neighbor. Arthur groaned as he bowed to pick up the bunch. He plucked a single flower and mixed it inside the potion in his hands.

"Uh-Um, Arthur... ?" Alfred had said it so quietly, Arthur could have not have heard him if it weren't for their close distance. When the green-eyed wizard rose and looked back up, he was greeted by a wonderfully cute side of Alfred. Flushed and soaked with rainwater from the tips of his hair to his bare feet on the ground, twisting the fabric on the edge of his sleeves. Blue eyes that not shrouded by his thick glasses were staring back into his own greens.

For a moment, Arthur stood there blinking and unmoving as Alfred fumbled with his words. Suddenly, he couldn't hear the words from the lips of the other man but only the pitter-patter of the rain on the grass beneath their feet. And then, under the unforgiving storm on their heads, Arthur heard a: "If-If you won't, then I will!"

Strong arms had gripped his waist and shoulder and he was promptly pulled into cold but soft lips.

Wha- What...

It took him the whole kiss to process that Alfred, the duke who was also his neighbor and employer was kissing him in the middle of the gardens where cursed rain was pouring down on both of them. And he responded by leaning onto the drenched form of the taller man. Arthur wasn't sure when he closed his eyes but when those cloud-soft lips left his own, his grip on the glass bottle of the potion slackened. Its dull thud on the grass went unnoticed to him and Alfred as his hands reached to the nape of the other's neck to cut the little distance between them for another touch of those sinfully sweet lips. Their teeth knocked into each other but both neither gave a damn. The wizard titled his head and their kiss deepened.

For a moment, they just stood under the cursed storm cloud, kissing, and just feeling. The fact that the rain on their bodies was a curse and the potion to break it was on the wet grass was ignored. Eyes half-lidded and lips covered by the other, Arthur wouldn't have this kiss from the man he'd wanted for months any other way.

Something wet and rough suddenly swiped across his bottom lip. Arthur jolted in the realization that he was kissing the Duke of Sableon and pushed the other away.

Oh. Oh, Alfred kissed him. He kissed Alfred.

"... Arthur?"

The wizard back away from the duke, mumbling, and crimson red from the events.

"Arthur, what's wrong?"

...

Arthur crouched and reached for the potion he dropped earlier and shoved it to Alfred's hard chest. He kept his eyes on his rained-on sleeves as he shouted in embarrassment. "Here! Drink! You idiot!"

The wizard turned away and ran faster than he ever did in his whole life.

That stupid git! Kissing him out of the blue, he really was a player. He shouldn't have let his guard down. Arthur took out a handkerchief and wiped his nose as he exited the sprawling estate.

Confused and embarrassed and still feeling tingly all over from the kiss, he wonders what was going through Alfred's head when he was about to give him the potion.

Certainly, it wasn't because the other felt the same-- No. Arthur shook his head, there was no way Alfred would. Perhaps it was because of the Kiss-Me-Quick flowers? The name must have confused him! Yes, that was probably it.

Inside, he hopes it wasn't that at all.

#hetalia #Hetalia Fanfiction #Axis Powers Hetalia #my fanfic #usuk #APH America #hws America #APH England #HWS England #TWITB AU #it can be #ukus #i guess #usukus

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letgraysonsheart · 5 years

Text

Stab Wound

Tim doesn’t understand where all these freaking ninjas are coming from. It’s like they’re crawling out of every open space, every broken board, every hole in the old warehouse floor. They don’t seem to be stopping either. He’s got both Robin and Red Hood fighting with him, in an odd turn of events, and they’re still only barely keeping the upper hand.

Dodging the quick arms, the knives and the punches coming for him, he tries to move closer to the center of the room. He shoots a quick look over at Hood and Robin because they should be doing the same. It’s their game plan after all. They seem to be doing.. okay, he guesses. Further into the room than before, at least, and he can't ask for more.

Why did it have to be ninjas? They’re so sly and moving so fast, it’s tiring keeping up with them. Their little stabby knives more annoying than useful, he figures. They have yet to hurt any of them more than a few superficial scrapes, or so he assumes; he can’t spot any major bleeding wounds on any of his current teammates. Damian, a little ninja assassin himself, probably thinks this is fun. It for sure looks like it, the way the youngest of them is flipping around, wielding his katana.

While he's busy checking on Damian, one of the ninjas gets in a kick to his stomach which, ow, is not nice at all. Now he has to both focus on blocking and trying to get some air back into his poor abused lungs. That’s for sure going to bruise, it may have done some damage to his ribs too. Alfred will for sure give him a frown, maybe even a sarcastic unimpressed comment. He has to bite back a hiss as he straightens up to continue on.

A yelp to his right grabs his attention because ninjas don’t yelp - but baby demon brats do. He shoots a quick look over at Damian. It seems like in an unexpected turn of events, a ninja has managed to sneak up on the brat and got him with a sword. The wound doesn't seem too serious, Tim sees and releases a sigh of relief, even if it's bleeding. Damian himself looks even angrier than before.

Still, the younger is now fighting off multiple ninjas by himself. It looks like he's starting to get stressed too, Tim notes and frowns. Damian has got his tongue poking out, only the tip of it showing, smushed between his lips. He's concentrating, hard enough to let a small tell like that slip out.

Tim sighs, and hits a ninja with his bo staff, knocking them down. The ninja stays down, which he isn't mad about at all, as he starts making his way towards the younger.

He’s almost there, preparing to help Damian tackle the flow of ninjas when there’s a sharp pinch in his side. He reacts on instinct, lashing out with his staff and letting the tip of it connect with full force in the offending ninja’s stomach. The ninja doubles over and falls to the side, gasping for air. Serves him right, Tim figures, as he knocks him unconscious with another hit. Without looking he lets one hand move down to where it’s still throbbing a little from where the ninja got him. There's a growing hurt spreading through his stomach, and yep - that’s a stab wound.

Stabby ninjas are the worst kind of ninjas.

It doesn’t seem too serious, it’s not an unbelievable pain, and it’s not hurting too much.

No need to call it a night yet.

He continues his track towards the demon brat because even if the Robin would never admit to it, it sure looks like he could use a hand.

Tim knows Damian could take on all the ninjas and win. Hell, he's probably winning as it is, but Tim would rather see it happening with minimal damage, then well, the opposite. And that.. ain’t what's happening right now. He can see that the younger has a growing redness on his cheek where a ninja must have gotten a hit in. There’s a small knife wound on his arm, adding to the one from before, too.

A hurt, benched Robin is the worst kind of Robin, and to be frank, Tim would like not to deal with that. That, and the massive illogical guilt he'd be consumed by if anything real serious were to happen. Another great perk he's gotten from being a bat. Or he could have had it from before.

Whatever.

Damian doesn’t bite out anything as Tim comes up on his side. Tim hopes it means the younger has realized that he could use a little help. It’s nice, that Damian is actually showing some signs of aging, of becoming more mature. Or that his training is going through his thick skull at least.

The younger boy, he's .. not as insufferable any more, and it’s making working with both the Bat himself and Robin a whole lot easier.

Together they manage to force the ninjas further back, into the middle of the room. There’s a hole in the floor that some of the ninjas actually came crawling up out of when the fight first started. Jason joins their side too, at some point, watching their backs. So continuing as a little unexpected but united trio, they push the ninjas backward and down. Some of them even scramble back into the hell hole they came from.

They’re winning now, actually a more clear win than in a long time. Which means Tim's tired body gets a new shot of energy and motivation, enough to keep him pushing on. His side is still itching, more and more actually, but it’s not enough to stop him from fighting.

He's had worse.

After what seems like forever, the sound of Damian’s katana going back into its sheath fills the room. The top of Tim’s bo staff has at one point gotten sliced clean off when he’d dodged an attack from a jumping ninja (and really? It wasn’t enough coming at him from the ground?)

Jason is zip-tying the ninjas who hadn’t fled, both their hands and feet, in a methodical order. Tim steps towards the hole in the ground, where the last of the ninjas, when realizing their defeat, had disappeared into. It’s always annoying when they end up with loose ends, but there was no stopping them. They’re already long gone, he assumes, having sacrificed their weakest to get away themselves. Tim suspects they must have had some kind of hierarchy. It was clear who fled and who had to stay behind and fight to keep him and the two others busy.

As he takes another step, he feels a wave of dizziness hit him, which is usually not good. He puts his staff into the ground, steadying himself, leaning onto it.

“You alright there Tim?” Jason is by his side now, only a meter away, and when did he move over? Tim didn't hear his steps as he came towards him.

His knees feel weak and shaky. Pain shoots up his body when Jason hits his shoulder in what's supposed to be a friendly pat. Crap. He knows what this is, what happens now.

He’s coming down. The fight is over, and his body is taking in all the damage it has sustained. The adrenaline leaving behind a drained shell.

His fingers go to his stomach, his gloves get soaked in seconds.

“Tim?” Jason says again, as Tim’s vision tunnels, the darkness creeping into the edges.

“Tim!” Jason yells again, moving closer, but looking more like an unfocused blob made of red and grey.

Huh, that's weird.

Tim’s knees hit the hard floor of the warehouse as his vision tunnels. Though he doesn't feel any pain at the unexpected meeting between his boney knee and the cement flooring. Huh. That's weird.

He barely feels himself slipping, falling, and doesn’t even know if he hits the ground or not.

When he comes too again, he’s laying down, reclined, on something cushy and comfortable. He’s belted fast, but the straps don’t hurt. They’re not too tight like they would be if someone had kidnapped him, not cutting off his blood flow or gnawing at his skin.

There’s a familiar rumbling sound that his brain is still too muddled from blood-loss to understand what is. Whatever he’s laying on, or in? slows down a little. He hadn’t even realized he was moving at all, before.

His head is throbbing, but so is his side which - right, there was a stab wound. He wills his fingers, which takes a worrying amount of effort, to move towards his side. Is he still bleeding out? It doesn't feel like it. He would for sure not be alive right now if that was the case.

“You awake over there?” A gruff voice, lower than Dick’s but still lighter than Bruce’s, asks out of nowhere. Jason, his brain finally supplies. That’s Jason. Who he had been fighting with, plus the demon brat. Who’s either not there or being unusually quiet.

He can’t quite get himself to make his voice work, but he does manage to pry his own eyes open. It's relieving that he isn’t met by a blinding light. At least he isn't in some bed in the med-bay at the cave, or worse - the hospital. In fact, it’s dark, and there’s a window, he can see the outside rushing past.

Oh. That explains it. The rumbling, the movement. They’re in the batmobile. It makes sense he’s strapped in then. It's the seatbelts, costume made for the batmobile and its makeshift emergency med-bed passenger seat. He looks down his torso and sees that parts of his uniform have disappeared and been replaced by a white gauze. His fingers had never quite managed to reach the wound.

“Damian?” he croaks because there is no way the kid is in the car. He knows for a fact this exact car only has two seats, and not much more space to sit in. He was once crammed in the passenger seat with Dick, while Bruce drove them home. It's not an experience he wants to relive, not with Dick, and not with Damian. There is no way two over-average muscle built guys should fit in the seat, and they don't.

“The brat?” Jason asks with a huff, though Tim can spy a hint of a smile ghosting over the older's lips through the windshield. “He went to help B clean up once we figured you weren’t going to die,” the older continues. Tim notices there's a little bit more anger in his voice now.

He stays silent and leans his head on the rest while closing his eyes.

“Why didn’t you say you were hurt?” Jason asks, apparently unable to deal with the quiet only interrupted by the steady hum of the motor. “I know that the bat likes to be dramatic and shit, but passing out like that? Not nice against your fellow teammates, dude.”

Tim knows Jason is trying to sound casual, like he doesn’t care, but instead it's so absolutely obvious that he does. That his older brother was in fact worried. Tim can actually feel how it warms his heart, brings some heat to his cheeks, even if he wants to chalk it up to the blood loss. It's not exactly a regular thing that happens, Jason Todd showing that he cares. Then again, Bruce isn't there with his deafening silence and judging eyes. Perhaps that makes it easier.

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” Tim answers when he realizes that he's let the silence drag on a little too long while he was lost in thought. He can’t be bothered to open his eyes again, so he’ll just assume Jason is glaring at him. It for sure feels like it, his skin is prickling.

“You were stabbed. In the gut. You didn’t think that was bad?” Jason barks out, sentenced chopped and hard. Tim can feel the car swinging in a turn. He hopes they’re going to be home soon. Then Alfred can patch him up and he can climb into his big comfy bed and sleep for like, ten hours at least.

He should probably answer Jason too, at some point.

“I don’t know, I didn’t feel it until the fight was over,” Tim argues back, and can’t keep the slight irritation out of his voice. He’s tired god damn it, and lost too much blood to have this fight right now. So what if he smooths the details out a little? The wound had been an irritating pulse in the back of his head after he got it, yes, but nothing.. nothing that seemed dangerous.

Plus, Bruce will do the same exact dance with him when they discuss the case later. The less worrying he makes it sound to Jason, the less serious it will sound to Bruce. Keeping the story consistent and all that.

Jason takes a deep breath and breathes it out with a sigh, “I'm still mad at you, but, I guess that’s sound reasoning, adrenaline, and all. We've all been there.”

Was that Jason agreeing with him? Letting the matter go? What?

Tim cracks an eye open, looks at Jason’s face through the mirror. The older is biting his lip, staring at the road ahead, though his mind looks to be elsewhere. He wonders if he should be worried about Jason’s driving. Then again, he’s seen the Robin turned crimelord turn vigilante driving much more reckless, while distracted, before.

“You okay?” Tim hears himself asking, his voice sounding too soft. Then again, he can and will blame that on the blood loss too.

“Yeah, a few lacerations, one of the ninjas got in a good kick to my ribs too. Figured it was better I drove you to the manor. Let Robin join Batman,” Jason says before quickly adding, “not that I wanted to do that, even if I were in perfect health. Join Batman, I mean.”

Tim laughs a little at Jason's ramble. It sounds more like a croak, but it makes Jason look at him through the mirror with hardened eyes. It only makes him want to laugh more.

They drive in silence for a little while longer, and Tim lets his eyes slip closed again. In the darkness, he tries to feel the turns the car takes and guess where they’re at, but it's impossible. Usually, he could drive these streets blindfolded, or, he assumes he could. He hasn’t tried, if being so sleep deprived you’re seeing triple doesn’t count.

“Thanks,” he mutters, feeling sleep creep upon him. They’re going to be home soon, but a little nap won’t hurt. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t got any head injuries. Jason hasn’t mentioned anything and he knows the older has been watching him. That’s what they do.

“No need to thank me. When you faint right in front of me like a bigger drama queen then B, I can’t exactly leave you there to bleed out,” Jason answers. There's laughter in his voice, even though his words tells so much about his growth.

“You could've,” Tim says, letting the following silence hang in the air for a few seconds before continuing. “You could’ve left me. Or let Damian deal with it alone, or called Batman, but you didn’t. So thanks,” he finishes and stares up in the dark roof of the car. There's a small light there he hasn't noticed before, though it's turned off now.

He takes a deep breath, feeling the itching of his wound, it hurts - but not too bad. Maybe there's a numbing agent on the gauze, they use that sometimes if they have it on hand. His side is throbbing, but the sticking pain he remembers from before is almost gone.

Jason is being worryingly silent after the little proclamation Tim just finished.

“It’s the blood loss talking,” Tim reassures as he realizes there's a real chance he's hit some dark emotional spot in his older brother. He opens his eyes in time to see Jason’s shoulders sinking. The fingers cradling the wheel like a lifeline eases up, letting blood flow into them again.

“Yeah," Jason says, after a while, after too long. He's not looking in the mirror at all, keeping his eyes steady on the road, avoiding Tim’s eyes. Another defused emotional bomb added to Tim's belt.

"Do you really think-," Jason's voice stops midway through the sentence. He's still staring right head, eyes hard and guarded.

"Do I think what, Jason?" Tim is too exhausted for word games right now, and for any kind of emotions really. Maybe he hadn't defused the bomb, just deactivated the timer so now it could explode at any time by a single wrong move.

“I’m going to take a nap,” Tim states then, instead of commenting on anything more, and it doesn't seem like Jason is going to answer. He's too tired, so with a sigh, he tries to relax his tense muscles while shutting his eyes. As he breathes in deep it pulls at his wound again, and it makes it sting all the way through his chest. He forces his face to be natural, hoping Jason doesn't notice.

Anyway, it's kind of nice too, the pain, a screwed up part of his brain says. It means he's alive, that he's not dying yet. That's nice.

“We’re going to be home in like, five minutes,” Jason answers like Tim is being ridiculous thinking about taking a nap. Tim doesn’t dare comment on how Jason called the manor home, nop, not at all, not touching that with a ten-foot pole. Especially not after all the other emotions he's stirred up since waking up. He has some tact, even with a blood loss brain.

“It’ll be a short nap,” he argues back, voice already more groggy. A more comfortable than before darkness creeps into his mind, slowly taking over.

He’s asleep before he hears if Jason answers or not.

This was originally written for the “stab wound” prompt in whumptober, but all my plans failed, so the only thing i got around to writing was filing this prompt for my friend @marianne-in-wonderland

#in an unexpected turn of events i write jason & tim hurt/comfort #jason being tims big bro and im emotional #wheres my boy dick? i dont know this is unusual for me #but it was fun to write so!#ill post this to ao3 too #tw stab wound #tw blood #tw talk about death #tw fainting #my writing #elie writes #jason todd #tim drake #batboys fanfiction #im desperate for those notes #long post

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demonicpiano · 4 years

Text

Three-Fourths the Way There

RusEng + Magic Trio School AU!

You can read it on my AO3!

Rating: General/K+

(Safe enough to read at work!)

Words: >6K

Status: Complete, One-shot

Summary: There’s a new rule that school clubs need to have four members to a club, minimum. The Magic Club only has three. Cue panic.

"Don't look now, but that Russian kid is staring again."

Arthur turned his head. In the seat beside him, Vlad smacked a hand to his face, "I said don't look! Oh, great! He's probably going to curse you now and eat your parents!"

"Wow, he'll curse me and eat my parents?" Arthur made sure that his friend saw him roll his eyes. "Remind me to give my mum a call after class."

The last third of their trio glanced over his shoulder from a desk ahead as Vlad whisper-yelled, "What do you think happened to his ma and pa?"

"That's dark." Lukas launched a wad of paper, which bounced off the side of Vladimir's head. "You should be studying."

"Look around." The chatter of teenagers said it all, "Nobody's working. I bet the teacher is playing solitaire."

"Lukas is right. Sitting here and gossiping like a bunch of old ladies won't help us study." Arthur opened his textbook with a promise to his companions, "We have plenty of time for that during ritual."

"Honey or lemon this time?" Lukas asked.

"Lemon. Demons don't like the texture of sweet things."

Across the classroom, a lone Ivan smiled.

~.~

Not only was he the spokesperson of the Magic Club and go-to exorcist when the girls believed a spirit was haunting the gym locker room (the trick was to get the ghosts to leave willingly), Hetalia Academy's best and most prestigious was exemplified in the perfect form of Arthur Kirkland, head of the student body in Council. He was the first to arrive and last one to leave, as always, with notes on the ready to whip the other members into focus. Of course, he did not forget to hide the chalk so Yao and Alfred would not host doodle-contests that would end in a decisive victory.

Absolutely perfect...at least, he would say so.

Not long after Arthur settled, the door to the otherwise empty classroom opened, and he automatically straightened. Maybe today's Student Council wouldn't begin forty minutes late. A hulking figure slowed before the cluster of desks pushed together in a cheap meeting strategy, "Good afternoon, President."

Arthur raised his eyebrows, "I told you that you do not have to call me that." Ivan simply smiled, like he always seemed to do. "Take a seat. Hopefully the others will come soon."

"Thank you." Ivan settled, and began fiddling with something inside his bookbag. It stayed quiet. Neither of them were ones to make an empty room particularly interesting, but silence did not always need to be filled especially after a chatter-filled day of teachers and students. At least Ivan knew that...as much as Arthur could find himself to be at ease with him. Not only did the big guy stare from across the classroom during first period, he often giggled to himself as if he had many devious secrets. The fairies would shudder upon his arrival and promptly flee. Strange, but Arthur would take whatever damn peace and quiet he could get over-

The door swung open with a squawk of hinges and words, "...it was a shitstorm-supernova, man. I told him to lay off the milk, but-OH-HEY-ARTIE-HOW-ARE-YOU-DOING?!"

Arthur tried not to flinch too much as a gobble-gooked, French-accented chuckle poured salt in the wound of his bleeding eardrums. "The party is here!"

"That's me by the way!" Alfred announced with the World's Widest Grin. Sometimes it reached impossible places. He bounced past Ivan, gave him a smack on the head, and noisily dropped himself and his bookbag beside Arthur. Francis took Arthur's other side, reeking of a bath of perfume. No escape; it was either French or American. Damn it all, Arthur should have taken the other seat and risk sitting beside Ivan or Yao. Speaking of whom, the last (but certainly not least) shuffled in and plopped himself beside Ivan with a sigh.

"We're all here," Arthur said right away in order to curb stomp any potential conversations or distractions. "We'll get started right away. Phone's down and off, and as always, save your complaints until I'm finished." He grabbed a few sheets from his collection, snapped his folder shut, and began to distribute. "As you know, our annual dance is still some months away, but it is our duty as Student Council to get these flyers set up and sent out as soon as possible. I made these example sheets—Ivan, get off your phone, please—so we can hopefully come up with a design."

"Not on my phone."

"Nobody stares at their lap and smiles like that."

"I do."

"Nobody asked you, Francis."

"He's knitting," Yao said. Ivan snapped his hands over his lap and looked up as if he were caught halfway into the biscuit jar.

Before Arthur could say anything, before he could think to say anything, Alfred leaped from his seat with a shrill, "Are you really knitting! Isn't that something old ladies do?!"

"I..."

Arthur yanked the back of Alfred's jacket to get his behind in his seat again, "Sit down, would you? And knitting is not just for old ladies. It is a very calming and intricate hobby that can be used for a variety of reasons and-" Ivan was staring again. Smiling. Arthur gulped, ending much more weakly, "but you should leave it for a different time."

"Okie-dokie."

"Old lady!" Alfred sang.

"Shut it," Arthur warned. "Back on track here."

Work unwillingly completed was better than no work completed. As long as those ungrateful little—oops, the lovely student body—appreciated Arthur's efforts, then all would be just peachy. Besides, it wasn't the Student Council he looked forward to most, but the Magic Club was not until after school tomorrow. Once a week was always so close, yet so far. They had the design for the flyers completely planned and even began discussing a bake-sale in spring by the time Alfred leaped from his chair, "It's four o'clock! Time to go!"

"What is burning his ass?" Yao wondered. Arthur simply shook his head as everyone around him snatched their belongings and peeled out of the room as quickly as humanly possible. He gathered the scattered plans to tuck them safely into their folder with much more care than anybody else would give-

A paper poked his arm. Oh, Ivan was still there, holding one Arthur must have overlooked. "Oh, thanks-"

"Can I walk with you to the bus?"

"Excuse me, what?"

Ivan ducked his head.

"I suppose."

"Thank you."

Arthur gave a side-eye before taking himself and his bag out of the classroom. He walked fast and with purpose, though Ivan easily kept pace with long legs. Neither said anything, which was a bit odd. Then again, he was a bit of an odd fellow. Not many friends. Not really any friends. Large. Hulking. Thick arms. Uh, keeps to himself. Typical odd kid, yeah.

"How is your magic club?"

"Magic Club? It's...all right." A warning glance. Ivan kept his eyes forward. "Why?"

"All right? Did you find somebody yet?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Did you not hear? There was an email." Ivan stopped in the middle of the hall and pointed to a ginormous bulletin board a little ways away. "Every Club needs to have at least four members now or else it will be disbanded!"

"What?!" Arthur sent a sharp look over his shoulder, hoping for Ivan's sake that was just a cruel joke. He stormed across the linoleum floors, pouring over every letter and announcement (and a stray note saying that so-and-so smelled like mushrooms?) until he caught the bright yellow sheet that read, 'AFTER-SCHOOL CLUB UPDATE.' So on and so forth, '...effective the first day of the new semester, January 4. If you have any questions, please speak to a guidance counselor or send an email at...' "No..." Arthur cursed the paper. The paper did not respond. A heart could not handle to be abandoned like this so quickly and suddenly. Him. Lukas. Vlad. The chopping block called for their necks.

Ivan let out a thoughtful noise beside Arthur, scaring the nerves out of him again. Arthur almost told him to stop sneaking on him like that, but found himself unwilling to open his mouth. The Magic Club was unlike the others; it did not thrive off crowds and attention. It can, and has been, thriving with secrecy and rumors whispered through the halls. Three people was enough. It has been enough. It always should have been enough-

"So you have not found fourth member yet?"

"No. Not yet." Arthur resisted the urge to look to Ivan's face. What if it was a tease, a laugh hidden behind sweet words? What if it was full of hope? An unspoken yet obvious question? He couldn't bear it. Not now. Not so soon. "I have to go."

"Ah, did I say something bad?"

"No, Ivan, not you. I need to get home." Quickly, over his shoulder, Arthur called, "Goodbye."

"Okay, uh, bye-bye!"

Arthur stormed out of the school. Each step would be a threat to leave the earth to shatter if he didn't want to be so quick. He threw himself onto his bus and fell into a seat with a huff. Everything had fractured and fallen apart so quickly. Now, he had the entire ride home to stew in the dark thoughts swirling through his mind.

~.~

Nobody welcomed Arthur home, and he did not care nor have the time to care. It was straight to his bedroom, door locked, and books unceremoniously deposited on his desk. He immediately opened his laptop, then his chat window between him, Lukas, and Vlad to start a call. The application droned. His reflection scowled at himself. It didn't make the drones drone faster.

"Arthur? What's up?"

"Lukas, I-" Something made a string of obnoxious noise from the other end.

"Sorry-" Yap, yap, yap-

"Hana! Shush!"

"I'll just go upstairs."

"No, no," Arthur said, "if I called at a bad time...I should wait until Vlad gets on anyway-"

Bloop.

"Talking about me?"

Arthur slapped his hands to his desk, "The Magic Club needs to find another member or we're getting disbanded."

"Wait, what?!"

"There was some letter from the principal. Hold on, I didn't check my email yet today." Arthur sought to do that. "Apparently, it has something to do with funding or whatever excuse they're using, but all clubs have to have at least four or more members starting the new semester."

Vlad squawked in offense.

"Check your email! It says it all there."

Lukas' voice was a quiet storm, tight with concern, "The new semester? That's less than two months away."

"Still, that will give us a decent amount of time. We can ask around to see who can join."

"Hey, Lukas," Vlad said, "what about your lil' bro?"

"He's in grade 8. Doesn't even go to the school yet."

"Oh. Sucks."

"Hm."

Arthur worried the inside of his cheek. As noisy as it was, life was mundane, scheduled and predictable. Sometimes. Nothing extraordinary besides the occasional demon got loose or a ghoul haunted the west wing's urinals...until this dropped a wrench onto his foot. Adapt or die. What the most awful of ultimatums.

"Yo, Art?"

"Yes?"

"You thinking of anybody?"

"I'm thinking," he promised. Perhaps too much. "I...I need to go. I just wanted to tell the both of you, and I have homework..."

"It's all right," Lukas said. "I have dinner soon. Vlad and I will talk a little bit more until then."

"Yeah, Arthur. Take care."

"Right then. Thanks. I'll see the both of you tomorrow." Arthur dropped out of the call, staring at his friends' profile pictures still indicating they were live and chatting for a moment too long to be healthy before closing the lid of his laptop. Him. Lukas. Vlad.

Emil was too young. Arthur's brothers had graduated, save one, but Peter was still in primary, and besides, he wouldn't invite the little twerp anyway. Francis? He may have had the taste for finer things in life, but that was for anything he could get a sense on, and unfortunately, that excluded the supernatural. He was already in several other clubs anyway. Alfred? Hmm, he pissed himself over a ghost story in the seventh grade. Perhaps not. Maybe Yao? He only had Cooking, as far as Arthur knew, and they had a few fine talks about Chinese superstitions. Maybe. Then there was...Ivan. A complete mystery, really. Did he ask about the fourth spot in the Magic Club because of interest, or to simply be nosy? Arthur walked off before Ivan could make any of this known. Not many dared to approach the 'school gremlin' (yes, he was well aware of the whispers), let alone ask to walk with him out of the school without asking for something in return.

Arthur tipped his head back and pinched his eyes. He had too much pouring itself onto his lap out of the blue like this. After another, more final sigh, he leaned to pull his homework from his bag. Essays and questions were an excuse to put his mind somewhere else.

~.~

"Sadiq."

"He's already in the Cooking Club."

"So is Yao, and you asked him."

Arthur tossed up his hands from the lunch table. As soon as they walked into the building, the Trio set a mission to scour and take in any potential recruits. It was an ultimate failure. Most of the finest potential candidates were already claimed, already asked and not interested, or too superstitious to dabble in the Dark Arts. Cowards. Rinse, lower standards, repeat. The rest of the student body laughed, gave them weird looks and/or asked, "Magic Club? What's that?"

Sigh.

To think all of this was to get new bodies inside the classroom, to see if they were even capable of joining said club!

"This is highly ineffective," Arthur announced. "Going student to student is slow at best."

Vlad nodded solemnly, "I accidentally asked Timo twice."

Lukas gave him a funny glance. "You asked Timo? You know he lives two doors down from me, right?"

"Maybe. No. I don't know! All of these kids are blond and look the same."

Arthur contemplated allowing himself to have a sob to two. Or ten. Lukas said, "I'll go to the main office after lunch. Maybe I can ask them to make an announcement for anyone to meet us in our spot."

"You would do that? For us?"

"For the Club, too."

"You don't have to do it alone. Arthur and I can come with!"

"It's okay. I have a study period next. I can afford it. Don't miss class."

Vlad and Arthur grabbed Lukas' hands, reeling and praising, "You're our last hope!"

~.~

After a few minutes of Calculus, an announcement dinged overhead, "If anyone is interested in joining the Magic Club, please meet in Room 23A after school. Again, if anyone is interested in joining the Magic Club..."

Arthur kept his eyes toward his worksheet. Chairs squeaked as bodies turned and whispered. Just a few more hours until then. He will know—and finally accept—at that point that they were doomed, and lay his wand to rest.

~.~

"We can summon a demon."

"Vlad, that's your answer for everything."

"Oh, come on! We can have it pretend it's a part of the student body. We're magic. We can make up some paperwork."

"I suppose you're fine with selling your soul in exchange for services, then?"

They sat, seats pulled close together and slouching under the heavy atmosphere. Nobody came. It was just the three of them. As it always was, and apparently, as it always will be.

"I'm sorry," Lukas spoke up, "I should have told the lady to have more pizzazz for the announcement."

"Don't go blaming yourself for things that aren't your fault, Lukas. You did well, and we thank you for it."

"Yeah," Vlad said, "you did great." Then, "Maybe we should've ordered pizza."

Arthur pointed out, "We would only get people in here for the free pizza. Besides, who would pay for it?" He stuck his elbows on his knees and cupped his face with his palms. "Maybe it's better this way. Nobody is pretending to listen to us when there is nobody to listen."

"We should have ordered pizza anyway. I'm hungry."

Someone's stomach gurgled. Arthur and Lukas pricked their eyebrows at one another. Lukas straightened from his slump, "It could help with the mood. Unless you want to sit here and sulk instead?"

"Just for a while longer," Arthur promised. "Then we can get something to eat."

Just for a while longer, they waited. "We can still hang out," Vlad offered. "We can do séances at my house."

"True, but we won't have the funding from the school."

Lukas gave a limp shrug, almost dropping into a puddle on the floor if he slumped further into his chair. "Could always meet for movie-night at my place."

"Ooh," Vlad had just a smidge enthusiasm more than Arthur could muster, "Movie-night."

Someone knocked on the door. Three heads snapped up, eyes wide and glancing to one another as if to ask, "Who could it be?" A creak, and a pale head of hair breached their precious space. Arthur's heart leaped for some reason, and he wondered if it was hope or dread.

"That's..." Vlad started, and he didn't leap for joy.

Ivan smiled like he always did, closed-mouth and tight. He quietly shut the door and asked, "Magic Club?"

Lukas and Vlad simultaneously straightened in their seats with their faces reminiscent of stone. Arthur tried to be the same, though deep down inside, he believed it would come to this. Braginsky was their last stand against eternal end. If that was the case, perhaps fate brought him here. The fairies, as they already have cried and fled, may have not agreed, but how bad could a man that kept to himself, knew how to knit, and blushed so easily be? Not that knitting was an excellent judge of character...

"Yes, that's right." Arthur rose from his seat, finding himself to smile anyway as their newcomer wrung his hands together in a nervous fit. Although he knew the answer, he had to ask out of propriety, "What brings you here?"

"I heard the announcement." Ivan tipped his head. "Unless you already filled your forth spot? I do not see anybody else."

"Err, no, we...we haven't found anybody else. Yet."

"Hey!" Vlad hissed, "Don't try to tell me...the Braginsky kid?"

Lukas sang under his breath, "He's gonna eat your parents..."

"You haven't?" Ivan was much too happy about that. "That is good!"

"Not really," Arthur said.

"I mean, it is good because...I would like to ask...ah..."

Vlad kept chanting most quietly, "He's gonna eat your parents. He's gonna eat your parents-"

"Go on," Arthur urged. This or doom, he reminded himself. Well, unless Braginsky planned on bringing doom. He better not.

"I would like my sister to join your club."

Vlad stopped chanting. Lukas stared. Arthur blurted, "Your sister? Why isn't she here, then?"

"She is, uh, not good with people."

"So you want to pawn her on us instead?!"

"Vlad," Arthur warned. Vlad slumped against his chair, more haunted if anything.

"No, no!" Ivan shook his hands like he pleaded for his life, which was unnecessary so far, "It is so she can make friends! It would be good for her."

Lukas asked, "Would it be good for us, too?"

"You're considering it?" Arthur was a tad surprised. Lukas had an irritated air about him. Though it did not appear to be any different from his neutral expression, he knew. Oh, Arthur knew.

Vlad tossed his hands up, then down to his lap with a sigh. "I mean...I guess. It's not like anybody else is waltzing in here." Louder, to Ivan, "So what does your sister do?"

"Hm?"

"This is a Magic Club," Arthur said. "If you...your sister is interested in joining us, she must be and prove herself to be supernaturally inclined."

"Oh, yes! She can talk to ghosts!"

"She can?"

"Well, she mumbles to the air a lot..."

Vlad echoed, "She mumbles to the air."

Lukas made a small, "Hm." The seriously? was understood.

Arthur tried to grin and bear the threat of curses against his back, "We have another meeting next week. Same exact day, same exact time. If you think your sister has what it takes to be in our Club, by then all means-"

Unbridled joy bloomed across Ivan's face, turning his cheeks completely pink and squishable. Not that Arthur wanted to squish them. It was just that they looked squishable.

"Hold...hold on!" Vlad said, "What grade is this girl in?"

"Nine."

"A NINTH GRADER?! Arthur-"

"It's just to see!" Arthur insisted, all the while avoiding Ivan's steady eye. "Just this once. It's the nice thing to do after all."

Lukas and Vlad shared another glance. Lukas said, "I thought you didn't care about being nice."

"Excuse me?! Who said!"

They simultaneously looked away.

"So that is a yes?" Ivan asked. Gasped. Clapped excitedly without getting an answer, "I hope you give her a chance! It would be the nice thing to do after all!"

Arthur sputtered, "You-!"

"Goodbye!"

"Oi!"

The door shut.

Arthur cursed under his breath. The source of his ire was gone; why did he feel so worked up? This or doom.

"His sister, huh?" Lukas wondered aloud.

Vlad stuck an elbow into Arthur's side, catching a soft spot, "Told you that guy was weird. He stared at you the whole time like you were something to eat."

That was Ivan's something-to-eat face? What a gentle devourer he must be, then. Arthur cleared his throat and batted Vlad away, "Don't worry about it. The whole family is weird."

Lukas said, "Not the oldest."

Vlad, "That you know of."

"Hm."

Perhaps there was still hope for the Magic Club.

~.~

Surprisingly, one week passed quickly. The weekend helped, since those always swallow as much time as possible when one was not looking. Keeping oneself busy helped, too.

Early in the week, the student council meeting was mildly successful. It was a bit too chatter-filled for Arthur's liking, but he supposed with all the hard work they accomplished the last meeting, he didn't have to take the chalk sticks from Alfred and Yao when they snuffed their hiding spot from the top drawer in the teacher's desk. At least not right away.

Why Alfred snooped in there, nobody knows.

"Everyone get seated, put your phones and knitting supplies away. We may be ahead, but that doesn't mean we can completely slack off."

Whatever was in the water, Arthur urged it to make a home there because everyone was attentive, or at least calm enough not to make fools of themselves. At four on the dot, Alfred sprung from his seat, rallying the others and Arthur let him go with no dissent...even if it was right in the middle of his sentence.

Just one more day to go. In twenty four hours-

"Arthur."

That time Arthur jumped. He kept his eyes on the papers that Yao made no move to help gather, "Yes, Ivan?"

"Can we walk to the after-school bus together, Arthur? Please?"

Yao looked up in surprise, but thankfully didn't say anything as he took his bag, one of the papers, and hurried out of the room. Arthur opened his mouth, floundering as his face began to feel warm, but words were difficult at the wrongest of times.

An arm drooped over his shoulders as the stench of overly-floral perfume breached his nostrils. Francis fake-wailed, "Oh, Arthur, but I thought we always walk to the after-school bus together!"

"Ugh, Francis, get off of me!" was a lot easier to say. Arthur made a show to brush invisible germs off of his blazer, which made Ivan giggle. "And no, we don't."

Francis rolled his eyes, "I see now! Ivan is your favorite! You rather walk with him than me! Hmph!" A side-glare turned with a smile as he spun away. Arthur swore there was a wink in there. Bastard. "Good day to the both of you. Good day!"

"Fantastic," Arthur made sure to say as dryly as humanly possible. "Let's get out of here, shall we?"

So they did. They left the classroom, turned off the lights, and closed the door. Walked down the halls. Walked out of the building. Really, nothing interesting. To think Ivan asked so eagerly. Arthur felt his mouth pull down as the autumn air sent a slight chill across his face.

"You're my favorite, too."

The bottom of Arthur's sole scratched the sidewalk as he abruptly stopped. After hours meant nobody was around. The rest of the Student Council already boarded the bus. It wasn't a mistake on the ears.

Still, Arthur asked, "Excuse me?"

Ivan looked downright terrified. "Ah, um, excused?"

"I appreciate the sentiment, but kissing arse is not going to get your sister into the Magic Club any faster."

"No, I...! I wasn't..." A flinch, "I'm sorry. Goodbye!"

"Wha...oi!" Arthur called after Ivan's clumsily retreating backside. "The bus is this way! What in the world?"

He stepped onto the bus, ignored a, "Artie! Sit with meeeeee!" and sat in his own seat as far from Francis and Yao, who bickered about...rice cooking methods?

"Huh. Guess he doesn't want to be bothered." Alfred unashamedly announced, "Whatever! I just put that stuff in the microwave! Ha-ha-ha!"

Yao blanched. "Ai-yah! That's your answer for everything!"

"Ha-ha! I wish!"

Arthur turned his eye just in time to see Francis put the back of his hand against his forehead and slump in his seat. Ivan would be in the far back, where he sat now, smiling and knitting as the others bickered. Such a strange guy.

~.~

Arthur's bewilderment slowly steamed to irritation throughout the rest of the night, ending to a boil as he scowled at the fairy-lights above his bed. He had been thoroughly warned of the quiet kids, mostly from snickers and back-sided gossip that he would roll his eyes, but many legends had a grain of truth within them. Ivan's truth was that he did not even bother to pretend he wasn't shying up to Arthur to get his sister into the Magic Club! That he wasn't pretending to not pawn her off so he wouldn't have to deal with her for at least an hour a week! What an awful, awful older brother! He gave his duvet a tough yank at the thought of other awful older brothers, and thus sparred a downward spiral of grumbling, hard-fought battles in his head, and a bad night's sleep.

When he woke, his first thought was to rue the entire day before it started, most importantly, the Magic Club's meeting after school. His phone buzzed no more than 17 minutes after he pulled himself out of bed, and he saw a message from Vlad; "Bring a spoon you don't care about."

Arthur let out a sigh at the breakfast table. It was too early to make his stomach start to work, but he wouldn't start the day without black tea. A few giggles circled his head as he felt the little hands of fairies gently tug at the unmanageable clumps of bedhead. Whatever would happen that day, his friends would still be there. If not for another meeting, then movie-night and some pizza.

~.~

Before first period, Arthur stopped at the library to pick up a pass to spend his study hall there with books and peace and quiet instead of a classroom full of yappy teenagers. Why call it a 'study hall' when studying isn't a building-wide requirement to some teachers, he didn't know.

The line was rather long, most likely full of students who procrastinate on homework and scrambled for a time to do it before their classes. Arthur crossed his arms and quietly tapped his foot, not out of patience, just for something to do. The thought of Ivan knitting, long but deft fingers effortlessly and neatly looping the thread popped in his mind, and he tossed his hands down to his sides with a huffy sigh. Some heads turned to stare, but they meant nothing.

"...'scuse me. Arthur."

Arthur didn't jump this time. He turned his head to nobody else but Ivan's direction, who of course was right there, right at that time, in the same line. His own visage must have spilled the thoughts bubbling over the edge of his mind and Ivan quickly ducked his head toward the carpet.

"Good morning," he still tried. "How are you feeling?"

"As fine as a Tuesday morning allows."

"Ah."

"The line is moving."

"Are you getting pass?"

"What else would I be in for?"

Ivan smiled, crinkling his eyes, "Books, silly!"

Right. Arthur walked into that one. "Yes, I'm getting a pass."

"What period?"

"Fourth."

"Oh." They didn't share a study period. "That is okay. We can walk to first period together, yes?"

"Ivan." Arthur took a long inhale through his nose. Out. "I would highly appreciate it if you would stop trying to...do whatever it is you are doing to try to win our favor on your sister's behalf. Whether or not she gets in is up to her abilities-"

"My sister?" Ivan echoed. He let out a little laugh, "Oh, no, no, I do not worry for Natalya."

"What. Then why did you come to the Club room last week for her?"

Ivan didn't answer until he signed his name on the pass-sheet and stepped from the counter with a little gesture, "I wanted to know how you three would react. What your faces look like when you first think of my dear sister." He tipped his head, breaking into a cheeky grin again, "Yes, that exact face you have right now."

"Young man," the librarian prompted when Arthur stood in front of the counter without signing his name. He took care of that, received his pass, and stepped out of line to wander away from the other students...all with Ivan trailing beside him.

"A-and?" Arthur cleared his throat, forcing himself to look into Ivan's face. "Did you get what you want? We're giving her a chance."

Ivan leaned forward in the slightest, but it was a mountain shifting onto Arthur. "No. Not yet."

"Well," Arthur grunted out, "until then." He turned on his heel.

"Are we going to walk together? We share class."

"I have to go to my locker!" Arthur lied, and hurried as quickly as possible out of the library, but the drowsy hoard of teenagers was the worst of impediments. Ivan's eyes iced the back of his neck.

~.~

Ivan didn't stare during first period. Lukas and Vlad didn't notice, otherwise they would have started to snicker and talk about how their parents would inevitably be eaten. Arthur noticed, only because it was weird for him to not stare as it would be for somebody else to do so. No, Ivan occupied himself by staring down his lap—knitting. Anyone else, and the teacher would have given them the what-for already. Arthur found himself momentarily wondering what he was making so intensely, but immediately told that part of his mind to keep quiet and pay attention to the teacher.

Even during lunch, the Magic Trio ate in stony silence. Perhaps the thin wire separating all of them from utter doom had left them just as concerned as Arthur. Concerned, because he was not nervous or anything for any reason or from anyone.

The only conversation they had all day besides a dreary good morning was Vlad stopping Arthur in the hall to seventh period, "Hey, do you have your spoon?"

Arthur quickly nodded, unable to say more with the crowd of students pushing their way to their next class.

His stomach tied itself into a tough ball. Last period. Arthur did something he loathed to make a habit; clock watch. Instead of excitement at the end of the day approaching as slow as possible, it was like watching the blade dangle over his neck. When the bell finally—finally—droned, he already had all his books packed up and was one of the first out the door. He even got ahead of the brainless dismissal hoard and almost bumped into Lukas on the way to their room. They gave one another a nod before Arthur let his friend inside first.

Vlad followed soon after, closing the door with his backside and let himself have a short but loud sigh. They all shared it. They wordlessly fetched their cloaks, tomes, and battery-operated candles because the school deemed normal candles a 'fire-hazard' and matches 'weapons of great-potential destruction,' so dollar-store tea-lights had to do for ambiance. Cloaks on. Vlad rushed to the front of the room. Lights off. They drew close in a circle and raised their hands. Quiet. Calm. They thought of the spirits watching over them, and released a collective exhale.

"It's lovely," Lukas said, and it truly was.

A knock on the door. Three robes brushed one another, bundling in their tight knit, and faced their soft intrusion. The door opened. "Go on," a voice murmured. Two newcomers shuffled inside, one much smaller than the other. The family resemblance was uncanny, starting with the platinum locks on top of their heads. Ivan glimpsed over the trio and urged his little sister forward. She stared with impassive eyes.

"Welcome," Arthur started. "Welcome to the Magic Club."

The girl kept staring.

"May we have your name?"

"No, but you will call me Natalya."

Based on the light noises of delighted shock along his sides, Arthur thought the same thing; Quick girl!

"Very well. This is Vlad and Lukas," gesturing accordingly, "and I am Arthur." With a subtle shot of eyes to Ivan, "Thank you for being here, again. Would you join us?"

"Depends. What do you do?"

"We commune with the fair folk."

"I can do that in my backyard."

"Uh. We also take commissions to curse people."

Natalya started to look thoughtful.

Vlad said, "It goes both ways. We don't just take in anybody. You have to prove yourself worthy to carry the secrets of the Magic Club."

"Okay."

Eyes to Arthur. He reached into his pocket. Thus comes the truest test, "You have to bend this spoon."

~.~

"She didn't break a sweat!"

"Ninth-grade girls are terrifying."

"I'll see you two tomorrow."

Arthur left the Club room with more spring in his step than he entered. Tomorrow morning, he would drop off Natalya's inauguration papers to the Main Office. By next week, she will have her first official Magic Club Meeting. Nobody has joined since they all did when they were ninth graders! They had to plan and make it special. Goodness, Arthur hadn't felt this hopeful about the future since the third installment to his favorite book series was announced and that was a little over two months ago!

"Oh, Arthur!" A voice sang down the hall.

Arthur abruptly stopped and felt stupid about it. A happy hum and footsteps came closer, but he didn't turn. He made Ivan do the work of stepping around, and gave the giant a tilt of the head, "Is there something I can help you with?"

"We go home together on bus Mondays, but we can do the same today, yes?"

"I would say so, since we're all going that way."

Arthur must have not responded as enthusiastically as Ivan would hoped, so he goaded while they walked, "This is very good news. My sister has friends now, and your Magic Club will not go away."

Oh, they and Natalya were friends now? Arthur wouldn't complain; anybody that befriended the spirits was fine in his spell books. He glanced up Ivan from the corner of his eye. "Yes. So everything is said and done now. We can go back to living our lives as we were."

The side of Ivan's mouth curled up, "With a little more this time."

Arthur let out a huff, wondering how he could say, 'You can stop pretending to be friendly with me now that you have what you want,' without sounding like an utter toad.

A hand gently set on his shoulder, "Arthur, wait."

Ivan stopped and pulled something out of his blazer's pocket. "It is getting cold." He held a small bundle of dark green fabric. Knitting. "You should keep yourself warm."

"I can't take those."

"Do you not like them?"

"I do," Arthur said quickly, and he really did. "The stitching is impeccable and the colors blend in very well together. You worked on these for that entire time; I couldn't just take them from you."

Ivan pulled closer, tipping his head down and spoke lowly to Arthur's ear, "I made these for you, Arthur. I am giving them to you. They will not yours to take, but mine to give." Arthur shifted enough to catch Ivan's eye, giving a hard stare as much as he took one. "My sister is in Magic Club now, so you cannot say I am doing this to...'kiss ass,' okay?"

"So you are doing this because you want to do it? Just because? Because you are so..." Arthur made sure to stand straight as possible, meeting him half-way, "Nice and caring and charitable and kind? Do you know how strange that is? How strange do you make yourself out to be?"

"That is funny, Arthur. You call me strange but here you are. A ferocious, wild little creature."

"You're dastardly. I'm onto you."

"You are 'onto' me? I am just trying to give you gloves."

"Is that really all you're doing, though?"

Ivan gave the bundle in his hand an urging bob, sweet and wanting yet mysterious as always. "You decide."

Arthur found himself smiling like a fool.

#THE SIN BIN #my fic #hetalia #hws RusEng #hws Magic Trio #hws #hetalia au #hetalia fic

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kathyprior4200 · 4 years

Text

Murder on the Air!

Art by Alfred https://altried.tumblr.com/post/190010451473/my-take-on-human-alastor-i-like-to-think-he-is

Character profile

Name: Alastor (meaning Greek spirit of vengeance/tormentor)

Birth: January 24th 1896, New Orleans, Louisiana (VA Edward Bosco’s birthday is January 24, 1986)

Human name: Alastor Roscoe Duvalier Cajun (Roscoe means deer forest and is also an old term for a handgun. Duvalier is last name of Voodoo genocidal dictator of Haiti.)

Race: Part White (French-American from his father) part Creole (Native American and African-American from his mother).

Hair color: Brown (red and black in Hell) usually short, sometimes in a small ponytail or brown ends reaching slightly past his ears

Eye color: Brown (red in Hell)

Skin color: Light brown (pale gray in Hell) thin pointed chin, lanky agile body

Clothing: brown/white nice shirts with bow ties, dress coats, hunting boots, wine colored pants, the occasional top hat with voodoo pins sticking from the top.

Items: Hunting rifle given to him by his father, sharp knives, a staff with a microphone on it decorated with small golden antlers curved near the top. (The staff became a red vintage microphone with an eye and magic powers in Hell that became part of him as per the deal he took)

Date of death: 1933

Cause of death: Bitten by dog with rabies, experienced hallucinations, inflamed brain, strange excitement and paranoia. When he sees water, it’s nothing but alligators, leeches and the darkness of an ocean. He ran from police and into the woods at night. The police sent several police dogs after him, appearing to Alastor as werewolves. He encounters Hustle, a deer hunter, yelling in agony, almost caught by police. Hustle alerts the police to his location, saying “Target criminal’s over here!” Alastor grabs the gun from the hunter and shoots himself between the eyes. His body is mauled by the police dogs and the hunter sinks down to his knees in shock and fear.

Demonic life: deer demon, overlord, radio host. His deer-like shadow has a mind of its own and reveals his true feelings.

Likes: cooking, singing, dancing, electro swing, Rosie, Mimzy, Charlie (as a friend), his mother, hunting and skinning deer, being out in nature, people failing, dark coffee, the Picture Show, the Stock Market Crash of 1929, theater, liquor, dad jokes, Jambalaya, epicurean food, making voodoo dolls of the Hazbin characters

Dislikes: being touched, strawberries, post 30’s technology, dogs, anything sweet, frowning, Vox, his father, Angel’s sexual remarks, tea, spray can foods, ketchup

Abilities: supernatural powers, voodoo, radio broadcasting, shadow manipulation, warping space, singing, charm

Kalfu is Alastor’s main voodoo deity, as both are destroyers and dark sorcerers.

Mother:

Loretta Marie Duvalier (last name became Cajun): (named after Loretta Petit, real life American radio personality born in New Orleans. Duvalier is last name of Voodoo genocidal dictator of Haiti.)

Speaks French. As a human, she had dark skin, thick black short hair and often wore bonnets, dresses, and on occasion, charms around her neck. She went to Heaven for her selfless actions in comforting Alastor when he was bullied and abused. She was the only source of light in his life before he snapped.

Her voodoo deity is Erzulie, the goddess of beauty, love, femininity and motherhood.

Alastor secretly cuddles with a voodoo doll of his mother every night.

Father:

Louis Francois Cajun: White man and Christian French immigrant, descendant of two French Canadians. He fell in love with Loretta, but bi-racial marriage was frowned upon, so they held it in secret. He is a skilled hunter and taught Alastor to hunt deer and game at a young age. When Alastor was younger, he told him to “beware the gators” in the nearby swamp. As Alastor grew older, he became more abusive to him, even molested him after sleeping with another woman on a Friday the 13th. He died brutally by Alastor in the 1920s/30s.

Louis became an oppressive black deer overlord but was defeated by Alastor a second time.

In Alastor’s vision, Louis is represented by Ogun, god associated with dogs, warriors, hunters, conflict. He’s symbolized by an iron knife and has fondness for pretty women and rum.

Racheil: Alastor’s friend and love interest (though he doesn’t want sex or serious romance.) She has short blonde hair and looks similar to Charlie in dapper clothes. She, like Charlie, is nice to him and loves to dance and sing. She tries to help him become a better person but after he snapped, she broke up with him and left him to solve his own problems. She almost got stabbed b him but managed to escape with her wife Agatha (whom she had married in private).

In Alastor’s dream, she appears as Oshun, a goddess connected to beauty, sexuality, wealth, pleasure, and rivers.

Alastor later makes a voodoo doll of Racheil’s similar counterpart, Charlie along with dolls representing the other characters.

Mimzy: Alastor’s friend and temporary love interest (Alastor liked to flirt with her but didn’t want to get intimate nor be tied down). Mimzy likes singing, jazz, desserts and doughnuts. She doesn’t like rock. Confident in her singing, she is the owner of a jazz club, both on Earth and in Hell. She is a short, chubby woman who wears pink/purple flapper dresses, a headband with pink feathers and short blonde hair. Her eyes were blue and her skin white as a human, in Hell her eyes were black with hot pink pupils.

Mimzy and Alastor sing several duets together on stage in both realms and even share a kiss much to the disgust of a jealous (human) Husk. As time went on however, Mimzy started falling head over heels for him, while Alastor wanted to stay friends. (She heard about his radio shows but didn’t suspect he was the killer until later). One night, a love crazed Mimzy (who had also had several drinks) tried to undress him and even reached for his private parts. He shoved her off and threatened to kill her if she assaulted him again. Then she realized in shock that he was the serial killer when he defended himself with a bloodstained knife. She tried to call for help, but he choked her with an insane look in his eyes.

Alastor keeps a voodoo doll of Mimzy in his lair with the straw arms missing.

Rosie: Alastor’s friend, fellow overlord, and associate. Rosie wears dark pink dresses, and a large pink hat with skulls, pink feathers, and black flowers on it in Hell. She has black eyes and sharp teeth. She is the owner of her emporium, after Franklin got eaten by demons.

As a human, Rosie looked similar to Mary Poppins: black hair, white skin, elegant dresses and an umbrella in her hands. She owned an emporium on Earth. Alastor used to sing with her and help her out like a gentleman. However, this was before he became insane. Rosie went to Hell after forcing her employees to work long hours with hardly any breaks (It was during a time where people worked their lives away). Like in Hell, she was self-centered and didn’t hesitate to overpower others to fulfill her ends. Hence, she became an overlord due to the impact of her evil actions.

According to Vivziepop, their relationship is similar to Jack and Mary’s relationship from Mary Poppins: both Jack and Alastor help out their lady friends and are polite to them. Like Mary, Rosie is stern, sophisticated, elegant, and a perfectionist. She’s “practically perfect in every way” at least in her opinion. Both Rosie and Alastor love singing, dancing, performing, and killing people. The three of them met up with Mimzy and all sang together.

Alastor keeps a voodoo doll of Rosie in his lair.

However, Rosie, like nearly everyone in Hell, has an agenda of her own: using Alastor to further her status. In fact, she often views those around her as mere friends and servants who purpose is to make her life easy and orderly. She, along with Vox, Valentino, Katie, and Sir Pentious are listed as antagonists.

Niffty: A small cyclops demon with a hot pink skirt and short pink hair with a yellow undertone. She is the maid for the Hazbin Hotel: she cleans the rooms, cooks meals and likes to sew, read and write. She is obsessed with men and was summoned by Alastor. She died in the 1950s as a Japanese-American woman at age 22. She is hyperactive and fast…and also a hopeless romantic who indulges in her own fantasies. Niffty isn’t afraid to use manipulation to get her way. Alastor summoned her from the fireplace but before that, he had charmed her into making a deal with him shortly after she arrived in Hell.

Alastor keeps a voodoo doll of Niffty in his lair.

Husk: A black and white cat demon with red wings with card suits on them. He has long red eyebrows, wears a black hat and wears a large red bow tie. Husk loves drinking, gambling, cards and magic shows. As a human, Husk interacted with Alastor as a broad man with short black hair. He went off to serve in the Vietnam War, gambling and drinking his problems away. He died in the 1970s.

In Hell, Alastor summons the grumpy bad-mouthed Husk to help man the front desk of the hotel for “charity work” and transports him there. Alastor got Husk to make a deal with him by promising him booze, cigars, and drinks spiked with catnip. Husk can speak many languages and is good with children.

Alastor keeps a voodoo doll of Husk in his lair.

Alastor’s ancestor from his father’s side: Marie LaLaurie, (1787-1849) real life New Orleans serial killer, cruel to Creole slaves

Dr. Facilier: distant relative

Alastor’s cousin from his mother’s side: Clementine Barnabet: (1894-1923) real life Louisiana voodoo priestess and serial killer, killed families with an axe.

Real life Axeman of New Orleans serial killer 1918-1919

Killed women and primarily used an axe. Spared those who played jazz in their homes

Albert Fish: serial killer, child rapist and cannibal 1924-1932 crimes, died in 1936

Chapter 1: “Down in New Orleans”

Alastor’s mother gives birth to him at 3:00am. It was an early birth and she almost died in the process. He was also born premature (3 weeks early) via C-section. Everything else starts off perfectly normal, with baby and kid Alastor loving his parents and enjoying music at every turn. During this time, Alastor is oblivious to discrimination.

Both his father and mother tell him “you’re never fully dressed without a smile,” a message that would impact him for the rest of his life. “Frowning shows weakness,” according to his father and his mother says that “be happy and people will like you more.”

One of his favorite memories was listening to music on the radio in the car with his parents.

Family members and friends say “Mais cher!” (Glad to see you).

Alastor and his mother carry gris-gris amulets for good luck.

Chapter 2: “Theatrical Geek”

1900: age 5

Alastor discovers his love of theater at school and his mother’s jambalaya. He discovers his intense love of cooking and learns how to make jambalaya and other Creole foods. He brags that his mother’s cooking is the best and hopes that he can do an even better job. The elementary school kids pick on him for being awkward, bi racial, thin looking and a nerd. (The bullying gets worse when he goes into middle and high school, when he doesn’t display an interest in girls.) His dad slaps him for the first time for not getting into sports and bringing mud from his shoes into the house.

Francois: “You can’t kick a ball, you do bad at school, I bet you couldn’t even lift up an axe with those puny muscles.”

When Alastor’s father watches football in person, he yells “Who tat!” after the team scores, while a young Alastor is bored.

Alastor says “I hate noodle juice!” after trying tea.

Alastor is considered black based on the one drop rule. Alastor has light brown skin but not as dark as his mother’s nor pale white like his father’s.

Alastor’s favorite classes are music, theater, and French. (he never was much of a math person).

Alastor and several kids go into a swamp on a dare. Alastor’s dad told him to “beware the gators.” They got separated and one of the kids got eaten by one. The other kid screamed but Alastor, though shocked at first, just watched in fascination. “So that’s what happens when people are eaten, they scream and flail, and a whole bunch of blood squirts everywhere. How painful would it be to have those teeth tear through your flesh and fell yourself getting swallowed…glad that’s not me.” It was akin to him watching an animal documentary on an old TV.

Dream 1: Alastor frequently dreams he is an innocent carefree light red young deer who dresses in extravagant costumes and sings while everyone cheers him on. They call him “The Radio Deerman.”

Dream 2: Alastor evades an alligator who represents his dad, but soon gets eaten and wakes up.

Chapter 3: “Deer Hunting and Mardi Gras”

1903: age 8

Alastor’s father takes him deer hunting and teaches him how to skin a deer for venison and fur. The young boy is sacred at first, but soon finds the process fascinating.

Alastor gets beaten up by his drunken father, while his mother is too sacred to do anything.

Alastor is also introduced to Voodoo via his mother, and he finds the concept of animal sacrifices both horrifying and interesting. But his mother also tells him to not listen to the negative stereotypes placed on the Creole and to decide for himself what’s good or bad. His Christian father brushes it off as nonsense.

The family also celebrates Mardi Gras and goes to Antonnie’s Restaurant. At Mardi Gras, Alastor finds joy in singing, dancing, and the elaborate costumes and music…letting out his theatrical side. However, the other kids from school are mean to Alastor, not even letting him near the front of the Mardi Gras float. They yell “Throw me something, Mista!” and manage to catch beads, cups and fake gems, leaving Alastor catching nothing.

Alastor and his family frequently chant “laissez les bon temps rouler” (let the good times roll”

After being bullied and beaten by two mean brothers, Alastor sneaks into their yard and kills their dog using his gun. He is grounded for several weeks by his mother and made to read/memorize Bible passages by his father.

Chapter 4: “Freak Show”

1907: age 12

Alastor is diagnosed with anxiety, narcissism and psychopathic tendencies. He is bullied in middle school and is not interested in sex and girls like the other boys. He finds it gross and pointless.

Francois: “Why did I ever agree to raise such a sissy? That boy’s probably running off with other boys like a deranged faggot! I’ve told you before, Loretta, that he’s been influenced by the Devil from the start…”

Loretta: “Tell it to Sweeney! Bushwa! That be foolish nonsense! He’s our son, let ‘im live his life! You call ‘im a “pussy” but I bet he’d be more of a man than you, sometimes!”

Francois: (lands a bruise on her shoulder) “Don’t you forget who the head of this house is. My house, my rules to follow.”

Loretta: “You be drinkin’ too much again. I’m not gonna make life easy for you if you keep badmouthing about Alastor!”

Francois: “He’s not normal. He’s weak, antisocial, and a mixed creep. I don’t know how you put up with him.”

Loretta: “Despite his…quirks, I know he’s an independent, and amazing young man. Despite being busy, I’ve been blessed to watch Alastor grow up. Heh, he’s an even better cook than I am now.”

Francois: “No. There’s something wrong with him. You’ve been lecturing him about hoodoo and voodoo too much. He’s obsessed with the supernatural and Satanism. I don’t know why I was briefly curious about voodoo when I was a young adult.”

Loretta: “You wouldn’t have met me, otherwise. You say somethin’ wrong with ‘im? (points at his chest) Who might be da influence of that?”

Francois: “Lo, we have to put a stop to his erratic behavior. If religious training won’t work…”

Loretta: “…then just waitin’ and letting life take its course, will.”

Alastor has fun with his parents at a circus. A fortune teller reveals his Tarot cards to him: the Fool for his childhood (innocence and exploration) Hermit for his teenage years (isolation) Justice for his adulthood (adding to karma) and the Devil for his years past 30.

One traumatic day, Alastor’s father sleeps with other women behind his wife’s back, and Alastor witnesses the act, terrified. His father finds out and proceeds to kick him, to molest him and rape him from behind, penis shoved in and out of him, Alastor feeling helpless. The father even calls him a homosexual bitch and to “teach him a lesson.” After it’s too late, his mother runs in to comfort him after his father leaves.

It is at this point that Alastor wonders what it’d feel like to kill/eat a human being. Because of his father, he hates sex and being touched.

Chapter 5: “Deal with the Other Side”

1910: age 15

Alastor finds a Satanic ritual book that a group of imps called K.I.L.L. accidentally left behind. He makes a deal with some evil Loas: gain unlimited power in the afterlife at the cost of a loved one’s life and his own.

Unbeknownst to him, a wendigo shadow version of himself is conceived inside his head after he reads a spell, later manifesting itself as his darkest thoughts and primitive urges…furthering his decent into madness.

He practices using a gun, ax, and knife, quickly mastering them. He also creates voodoo dolls in secret.

Alastor kills his first human with a knife after a white man insults him for being Creole and of mixed race (part white from his European father, part Creole/African/Native American from his brown-skinned mother).

For the first time, Alastor feels powerful as well as shocked. He was worried that he would get caught. When he didn’t…he wondered what it’d be like to do it again.

Though Alastor’s mother let’s Alastor do what he wants, she also warns him to be careful with the dark Loas. Both his parents encourage Alastor to continue hunting and defending himself. (Though both aren’t aware of the murder).

Chapter 6: “Radio Host”

1911: age 16

Alastor starts his job as a radio host and DJ, earning more money to support his family. (Though his father still verbally insults him every day and his mother is often working.) He discovers dad jokes and electro swing, getting back into his love of theater and dance. He loved dark coffee and drank liquor at Mardi Gras, where he danced with Mimzy at a jazz club and met Racheil.

“Hello sheba!” Alastor and Husk think when they see Mimzy, a sexually desirable woman.

Mimzy is short and plump, with a feathered hat, large thighs, white skin and short white hair. Her dress is magenta and she wears a headband with a large magenta feather. She also wears a necklace with a round pink gem. She and Alastor share several kisses. Husk gets jealous and tries to flirt with Mimzy, to no avail.

Mimzy orders sinkers (doughnuts) every day “I’d like three sinkers, por favor!” she says.

Racheil, Husk, Mimzy and Alastor greet each other with “Mais cher!”

Husk drinks “giggle water” (liquor) and is “dissafied” (drunk)

Alastor calls Mimzy a “doll” and “dame” (both mean beautiful women

Chapter 7: “Radio Career”

1920: age 25

Alastor now has his own radio show and studio. Alastor meets Mimzy (owner of a jazz club) and they sing several duets at a jazz concert. Both his parents slightly suspect that he’s the Deer Devil serial killer but, of course, don’t say anything. He meets Husk as well (and later makes a deal with him in Hell). He also does dad jokes and sometimes performs in a band, much to the delight of Mimzy and Rachiel. Mimzy, Husk, and Racheil become his only three friends.

Dream 2: Alastor dreams he is a grown red buck, enjoying life but running from hunters, who represent the elite, and a demonic alligator, representing his father. His mother appears as an angelic Voodoo priestess with eagle wings creating Thunder.

Racheil asks Alastor to marry her, while Mimzy falls deeper in love with him. Alastor is affectionate with them, but doesn’t want to be tied down in marriage. Racheil orders a snowball (snowcone) and becomes suspicious of her lover/best friend.

Alastor refers to Mimzy (and sometimes Racheil) as “bearcats”: women with fiery streaks. Both Mimzy and Alastor are swanky (use their wealth/knowledge/skill to impress others) while performing.

Chapter 8: “Stock Market Crash”

1929: age 34

Hell, March 13, 1919 1929 Stock Market Crash

Esteemed Mortal of New Orleans: The Axeman The Deer Devil

They have never caught me and they never will. They have never seen me, for I am invisible, even as the sound waves that surround your earth. I am not a human being, but a demon and overlord from the hottest hell. I am what you Orleanians call the Deer Devil. Down here, I’m the inevitable Radio Demon.

When I see fit, I shall appear and claim other victims as I see fit. I alone know whom they shall be. No clues will be left behind, save for what you might hear on the next broadcast.

Tell the police and the racist, elite scum of the world to beware. Let them try not to discover who I am, for it’d be better for them not to have been born than to incur the wrath of the Deer Devil. You’ll have a deer in the headlights look and won’t have any idea what hit you until after it’s too late.

Undoubtedly, you Orleanians think of me as a monster and murderer. But if I wanted to hurt anyone else here, I would have done so already. If I wished, I could pay a visit to your city every night. I could kill every one of your best and worst citizens, for I am in a close relationship with the Shadows of the Other Side.

At 6:06 pm next Friday night, I am going to pass over New Orleans and then visit those in Hell. I am going to make a little proposition to you people. Here it is:

I am very fond of jazz music, electro swing, and jambalaya. I swear by all the Loas and deities that I will spare those who can provide me with some great entertainment when I visit. Word of warning, I can read you people like a book, and see into your very souls. Anyone foolish enough to challenge me will have their corpses consumed and their screams muffled by the lovely sound of jazz bands jamming the night away.

I have been, am, and will be, the worst spirit that ever existed in fact, fantasy, or realm of Hazbins.

Smile and stay tuned!

~Deer Devil (Alastor)

Racheil breaks up with him after growing tired of Alastor being self-centered and hungry for money, and his indifference to the murders. She thought he could be a good person, but left and told him he had to redeem himself on his own. She calls him a “grifter” (con man) after discovering he sometimes made deals.

Husk remarks to others that Alastor got the “icy mitt” (meaning he got rejected.) He tries to flirt with Racheil but she claims she has to go. Fortunately, Alastor doesn’t hear him or pay attention.

At this point, Mimzy grows suspicious of Alastor and soon finds out that he’s the serial killer. He sees her and dances with her one last time. He describes how joyful it is to kill cruel racist people. Mimzy says she’s worried about him and reaches toward the old rotary phone on a counter. Thinking that she’d call the police, Alastor chokes and kills her in a frenzy before sadly holding her dead body.

Alastor was sad after her death but once in Hell (1933), he met up with her again at her jazz club, singing and dancing with her, even giving her a hug during the time of his conquests. He made deals with Niffty, Husk, Mimzy, and Rosie, with only Husk and Niffty being under his control to an extent.

Alastor becomes the most well-known radio show-host in New Orleans. He thrives in money and material things (good food, wine, radios, cigarettes, a new staff with a circular microphone and miniature antlers made from gold around it. and outfits) But no one else except his parents knows that he is the infamous “Deer Devil” serial killer. Now he enjoys seeing orphans and children in misery, reminding him that he was better off than many. He makes shady deals, announcements on various murders and tells dad jokes as electro swing music plays.

Alastor also eats pig meat, deer meat and human meat, along with jambalaya and a jorum of skee (hard liquor) that he stole from Husk. He announces the murders on the air in detail, all with a cheerful tone.

He kills his victims in various ways: some hanging from trees with their organs spilled out, some buttered and eaten, others buried alive, some people shot and stabbed when he doesn’t feel like dragging it out. He’ll often poison other’s food/drinks and watch their reactions with a grin on his face. He enjoys tricking others into corners/tight spots so he doesn’t have to run after them. He’s found of pranks, especially deadly ones done on others. He saves brutal killings for racist men and women and those who think ill of him and his show. He becomes known as the “Deer Devil Dealer of New Orleans.” He only started killing people and animals at random after his mother died and he lost his mind.

Both his parents eventually figure out that Alastor is a serial killer and practices Voodoo (though his mother knew about him doing Voodoo all along but was upset that he turned to the dark side). His father threatens to kill him or send him away to jail but his mother looks at him sadly, still loving him. “Go to Hell!” his father says, “…and may the Devil have no mercy on your already tainted soul.” Alastor is kicked out of the house by his father, but Alastor promises to visit his mother in secret.

Chapter 9: “A Great Depression”

1930: age 35

The event hits the family hard, and Alastor’s mother is out of a job. Only cans of food and the occasional game are enough to sustain them. Alastor kills and eats people, those who were racist, rich, or looked upon him in disgust. He then saw others as nothing more than prey to be played with.

His family is mocked by others as dewdroppers (lazy and unemployed)

Husk and Alastor part ways, both sharing their troubles (Husk going to the Vietnam War in the future, gambling and drinking his life away.)

Alastor’s father drinks alcohol, does drugs and sleeps with other women. When Alastor visits again, he gets whipped by his father and raped yet again for “being a pussy and not being a proper man.” Again, Alastor’s mother doesn’t do anything to stop him because she’s too scared.

Worse, yet, Alastor’s mother falls gravely ill due to the flu and stress and the family can’t afford medication to help her. (or more accurately, medications aren’t being offered to families of color/mixed race. Francois considers this God’s punishment on Loretta and Alastor for their occupations (ignoring his own sins).

Alastor’s mother gets badly beaten and shot in the stomach by her husband. The father is later arrested outside (due to a neighbor calling the police). Alastor cries in agony as his mother dies in front of him. He later says grace over dinner and eats her remains on top of jambalaya. He cries hard for the rest of the day, cuts himself, and doesn’t eat anything for days…spiraling into a great depression.

After his mother’s death, Alastor lost his remaining traits of humanity…succumbing to his demonic nature. At that point, he didn’t care who he ate and/or killed…it was the last think he could do to keep himself sane along with drinking liquor, coffee, sewing voodoo dolls, and broadcasting the murders by himself.

Dream 3: He has nightmares about a demonic skeletal deer covered with maggots and sores with chunks of meat over bone and one eye hanging loose running after him. He finds himself in a dark snowy forest, a fierce biting wind. After it seemed like he had been defeated by the monster, Alastor looks into a puddle and sees another, far worse monster, a demonic wendigo reflection staring back at him…Alastor sees a horned face and malnourished skeletal body, ripped red pinstriped dress coat, four clawed hands, red and black hair and red eyes, sharp teeth, large black antlers…the wendigo form resembling his current demonic form in Hell. After killing the alligator representing his father, the wendigo Alastor look-alike shadow appears and says “This is who you really are,” before Alastor wakes up.

Two days later, his father is set free with only a slap on the wrist. Alastor tracks him down to a local bar. (Although he usually doesn’t stalk or chase his victims as it breaks his moral code, but his dad is an exception. Also following others/sneaking toward them are often required to kill others.) His father had been secretly afraid that Alastor would be stronger and would want to kill him, thus proving his son more dominant than himself. He had weapons ready, but Alastor had set up several traps in advance. Though Alastor was physically weaker than his father, he was very clever. He had packed a backpack of all his weapons, rope and essential tools. His father says “You and your heathen mother deserve to die” only for Alastor to respond, “Nobody talks about my mama that way.” Seeing his father knocked out, Alastor raises his knife to kill him but stops. That would merely be too easy. He supports him by the shoulders, pretending to be concerned for him as onlookers watched in shock, “It’s okay sir, you just fainted from the heat. Let’s go for a walk in the woods.” He takes him deep in the forest and chuckles darkly.

Alastor knocks him out and ties him to a tree in a forest, waiting until he wakes up. He starts (smiling the whole time) by slicing off his father’s dick among his father’s cussing (“when you screwed me once”), inserting a hot knife inside his father’s privates (“when you screwed me again”) then slicing off his ears (“this is for all the times when you wouldn’t listen to me”), shoving his own severed penis down his throat (“When you shoved your macho beliefs down my throat”) he whips him, then slowly cuts deep down his chest with a chainsaw, organs revealed (“this is for mama”) and finally shots him in the heart (“and this is for me, you heartless bastard.”) He eats his father’s flesh over jambalaya and it’s the best meal he’s ever had.

Chapter 10: “Death by Dogs”

1933 age 38.

Alastor is eventually tracked down when he accidentally laughs too much when describing his father’s death on the radio.

Additionally, Racheil finds out about Alastor’s killings back at his house, as she walked with her new wife Agatha. Seeing stuffed deer around the house and Alastor holding a bloody knife, she knew at that moment he was the Deer Devil. She screams for help, alerting the neighbors who call the police. Agatha kicks Alastor in the groin, allowing her and Racheil to escape. Knowing that he had finally been discovered, Alastor fled.

Death:

Not too long before the police discover where he is, Alastor gets bitten by a rabies infested dog. For the next several hours, Alastor experiences hallucinations, paranoia, brain inflammation and a fear of water. In water, all he sees is leeches and alligators. In his hallucinations, he is being watched by a wendigo. The police chase Alastor though the dark woods, police dogs hot on the trail. A local deer hunter, Hustle, joins in on the chase. Alastor navigates the woods, trying to find a place to hide. He experiences extreme agony when the deer hunter spots him, pointing a rifle at him. The hunter announces his location to the police. Seeing no other way out other than pain and imprisonment, Alastor takes the gun from the hunter and shoots himself between his eyes. The police dogs maul his dead body and the hunter sinks to his knees in shock and terror. Strangely enough, Alastor dies with a creepy smile on his face, the mark of Kalfu appearing behind his cold neck, unnoticed by anyone.

1920s slang:

Cancelled stamp - a shy, lonely female, the type one would describe as a “wallflower”

Pachuca - Female Mexican living in America

Berries - Something that is good, desirable or pleasing

Ringers - Fake Dumb Dora - Unintelligent woman Gasper - Cigarette Big House - Jail Can - Jail Hitting on all eights - Go well Hoods - Criminals Palookas - Men, probably not very smart Phonus Balonus - Nonsense Hombres – Men

Quilt - Alcohol that warms you up Boob - An idiot Broad - Lady Chippy - Woman of easy virtue (loose woman) Egg - Man Duck soup - Easy Kale - Money Big Sleep - Death Hooches - Boot-legged liquor Wise head - Smart Fuzz - Police Butter and egg men - Men with the bankroll Zozzled - Drunk (shitfaced) Dishes - Pretty women Jam - Trouble/ Tight spot Bee's Knee's - Extraordinary Giggle juice - Alcohol Chin music - Punch to the jaw Screwy - Crazy Clean sneak - An escape with no clues left behind

What's eating you? - What's wrong? Crumb - Hopeless Behind the eight ball - Down on one's luck Doozy - Problem Flophouse - A cheap transient hotel where a lot of men sleep in large rooms Twenty large - $20,000 Egg - Man Mazuma - Money Dumb Dora - Unintelligent woman Dusting out - Disappearing Juice - Debt Trouble boys - Gangsters Swell - Good

Rubes - Unsophisticated people Ethel - Effeminate man Scram out - Get lost Socked - Punched Kittens - Young girls Big shot - Important individual Greens - Cash Flophouse - A cheap transient hotel where a lot of men sleep in large rooms Wop - Racial slur for Italian (A/N: It's been confirmed by Vivziepop that Angel is Italian!) Dincher - Half-smoked cigarette Lam off - Run away Hinky - Suspicious Broad - Woman Butt - Cigarette Foot juice - Cheap alcohol Owl - Someone who stays out late at night Necking - Kisses on the neck Gowed-up - High Balled-up - Messed up Four-flushing - Feigning wealth while mooching off others Dewdropping - Sleeps all day and doesn't have a job Dope fiend - Drug addict Slay - Make one laugh Gin mill - Bar Grummy - Depressed Jam - A tight spot What's eating her? - What's wrong with her? Zozzled - Drunk (shitfaced) Bearcat - A fiery and vivacious woman Beef - Problem Sap - Useless person Bull - Bullshit Crepe hanger - Reformer Goof - Idiot Swanky - High-class Bird – Person

Ankle - Walk Poke - Bankroll Break it up - Stop that, quit the nonsense Potty - Slightly crazy, insane Breeze - Easy Beat one's gums - Idle chatter Fuzz - Police Heebie-Jeebies - The jitters, anxiety Capers - Crimes Cut dead - Ostracised Razz - To make fun of or take the piss out of, heckle High-hat – Snub

Dincher - Half-smoked cigarette Cut down - Murdered Wet - Stupid Sheba - Woman with sex appeal Quiff - Cheap prostitute Mac - Man Bull Session - Male talkfest, gossip, stories of sexual exploits Beeswax - Business Croak - Kill Alderman - Pot belly Steam up - Get angry Nookie - Sex Twist - Woman Make whoopee - Have sex Got lathered - Got mad Dogs - Feet Nudnik - Stupid man Bim - Girl Whisper Sister - Female proprietor of a speakeasy Moneybags - Testicles Jive - Unpleasant talk

Soupbone - Penis Cheaters - Glasses Socked - Punched Twist - Girl Make whoopee - Have sex John - Toilet Bum-rushed - ejection by force from an establishment Chivved - Cut Crackjob - Psychopath Palooka - Stupid man Skirt - Woman Over the edge - Crazy, insane Hot dog - Penis Deck of Luckies - Pack of cigarettes

Crumb - Hopeless Square - Honest Chicago lightning - Gunfire Greens - Money Copper - Police Bushwa - Bullshit Big Cheeses - Someone of importance and influence Cats - Men Weak sister - Pushover Bump gum's - To talk about nothing worthwhile Chinning - Talking Downer - Depressing feeling Bearcat - Very fiery and vivacious girl Gayly – Happily

Hoods - Criminals Get a wiggle on - To make a move Pachuca - Female Mexican living in America (A/N: Not correct as Vaggie is Salvadoran!) Bird - Person Paste - Punch Take the air - Get lost Bruno - Tough guy Dangle - Leave Rubes - Unsophisticated people Big Six - Tough guy Broads - Women Dumbbell - Idiot Bug-Eyed Betty - Unattractive woman Get in a lather - Throw a fuss Bluenose - Prude Jake - Great Sheik - A man with sex appeal

Jam - Tight spot Button - Nose Gas - Joke Pos-i-lute-ly - Affirmative Dogs - Feet Ankled - Walked Ms Grundy - Boring and uninteresting woman

Ankling - Walking Wet blanket - A killjoy Bozos - A stupid or foolish person Hombre - Man Kisser - Punch Schnozzle - Nose Cast a kitten - Throw a fuss Lather - Fuss Left - Wrong Over the edge - Crazy Crackers - Insane Go jump in a lake - You're crazy Joe Brooks - Smart and well-dressed man Looker - Attractive Flat tire - Bore/ Boring Nerts - Crazy Mustard plaster - Unwelcome guy who sticks around Butter and egg men - Money men Ankle - Walk Swell - Good Cat's Meow - Something splendid or stylish; similar to bee's knees; The best or greatest

Lammed off - Ran off Boiler - Car Sap - A dumb guy Broad - Woman Big One - Death Hoeey - Nonsense/ Bullshit Gumshoe - Detective Peeper - Detective Gas - Joke Bozo - Stupid or foolish person

Frau - Wife Frail - Woman Dry-gulched - Knock out, hit on head after ambushing Hombres - Men Jive - Unpleasant talk Wherewithal - Money or other means needed for a particular purpose Bull - Nonsense In the soup - In trouble Elephant ear's - The police Bootless - Hopeless Barbering - Talking Plugs - People Dumb Dora - Unintelligent woman Loggerheads - To strongly disagree Attagirl: Well done Mazuma - Money Call copper - Police informant Clip - Shot Hooch - Liquor Trouble boys - Gangsters Pinching - Arresting/ Capturing

Tip a few - Have a few drinks Earful - Warning Zotzing - Killings And how - I agree Beeswax - Business Egg - Man Don't take any wooden nickels - Don't do anything stupid Zozzled - Drunk/ Shitfaced Rubes - Unsophisticated men Buddy Roe - A threatening form of address for a male in the South Beef - Problem Dry-gulched - Knock out, hit on head after ambushing Glaum - Steal Spifflicated - Drunk, intoxicated Kisses - Punches Jobbie - Boy Yahoos - Clumsy, unsophisticated people Conking – Hitting

Socking - Punch Sap - Pitiful person Trap - Mouth Mitts - Hands Pipe - Throat Dormy - Dormant Snowbird - Cocaine addict Nose-candy - Cocaine Hightail - Hurry Elbows - Police Crummy - Lousy Hayburner - Gas-guzzling vehicle Frau - Wife Egg - Man Big Shot - Important person Off the track - Become insanely violent Browbeaten - Intimidated Corn – Bourbon

Dame - Lady Baloney - Nonsense Cooled - Knocked out Jingle-brained - Addled Gashoused - Roughed up Chiv - Sharp weapon That's the crop - That's all to it Put the screws on - Question Looker - Attractive person Get a slant - Take a look

Steamed up - Angry Noodle juice - Tea Earful - Warning Bumping off - Killing Dive - A low-down, cheap sort of place Bug-eyed - Wide-eyed with astonishment Cheaters - Glasses Ing-bing - Fit Tearjerker - Sentimental story Tight corner - Dilemma Numbers - People Crumb - Hopeless Keen - Attractive Swell - Wonderful Rate - Count for something Bangtail - Racehorse Balled up – Confused

Noodle juice - Tea Java - Coffee Dingle dangler - Someone who insists on telephoning Blower - Telephone Blaah - Not so good Closed her head - Shut up Behind the eight ball - In a difficult position, in a tight spot Sap - Hopeless person Hot diggity dog! - Great! Cat's Pajamas - A very good thing Screaming-meemies - The shakes On the level - Honest Wrong number - Not a good fellow Pill - Unfavourable person Pipe - Notice All wet - Wrong Whoop-de-doo - Exclamation of joy Palookas - Stupid men Ms Grundys - Boring women Cancelled stamp – Wallflower

Gasper – Cigarette Redhots - Criminals Capers – Crime Malarkey – Nonsense Mug – Face Rank - Observed, watched, given the once-over Heebie-jeebies – The jitters / Anxiety Ball up – Mess up Ear muffs – Headset Spiffy – Presentable Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed - alert and lively. Boocoos – A lot Bit – Prison sentence You slay me! – That’s funny! Horse feathers – Nonsense Bunny - Term that conveys sympathy and endearment for lost or confused person Ya follow? – Do you understand? Hotsy-totsy – Pleasing

Copacetic – Ok, Alright Off your rocker – Mad, crazy Whangdoodle – Jazz number Canary – Female singer Gams – Legs Chinese angle – Strange twist Chassis – The female figure Tin Pan Alley - The music industry in New York, located between 48th and 52nd street Joint – Establishment Giggle water – Liquor And how – I agree Insured – To be engaged to marry On the up and up – To be honest Carry a torch – Have an unrequited love Skirt – Girl Duck soup – Easy Weak sister – Pushover Crumb – Hopeless Noodle – Head Corked – Intoxicated

Buzzed – Come to a person’s door Cat’s Pyjamas – Anything that’s good Boozehound – Drunkard Breeze off - Hurry Butt me – Give me a cigarette Deck - Pack Chilled off – Killed Barlow - Girl Having a snoot full – Being drunk Line – Insincere flattery Beeswax - Business Know your onions – Know what you are talking about Not so good – Disapproving Peepers – Detectives Mug – Face Honcho - Boss Berry patch – A man’s particular interest in a girl Beat it – Leave Urban set – New gown Razzing – Teasing Bushwa – Bullshit Hinky – Suspicious Says you! – An expression of disbelief Heel – Scoundrel

Ankle – Walk Three-spot – Three-year jail sentence Di mi – My goodness Cat’s pajamas – Best thing Break it up – Stop that, Quit the nonsense Dusting out – Leaving Everything’s Jake! – Everything’s good! Grifter – Con artist Chisel – Swindle Not taking any wooden nickels – Not doing anything stupid Phony – Fake Hooey - Nonsense Chump - Person marked for a con or a gullible person.

Gandering - In the process of dudding up Hip to the jive – Trendy Swankiest - Stylishly luxurious and expensive Spiffy - Smart in appearance Get-up - A style or arrangement of dress, especially an elaborate or unusual one. Brooksy - Classy dresser Looker – Attractive person Tomato – Pretty woman Flivver – A Ford automobile Lousy with it – To have lots of Glad rags – Fancy clothes Blow – Wild party Crasher – Uninvited person Cancelled stamps – Wallflowers Goofs – Boyfriends Mug – Face

Made – Recognised That’s the bunk – That’s untrue Egg - Man Hooch – Liquor Hooker – A strong drink of liquor Frau – Wife Nibbling one – Having a drink Drifted – Leave Gee – Guy Peep show - an erotic or pornographic film viewed from a coin-operated booth. Greens - Money Darb – Remarkable Talkies – The picture show Lug – Dumb guy Go climb up his thumb - Go stick a thumb up his ass Trap - Mouth Gave them the door – Tell them to leave Gasper – Cigarette Bean-shooter – Gun Spill - Talk Given the third – Interrogated Heat - Gun Have the curse on someone – Wanting to see someone killed

Bright young thing – Socialite Giving some burn power – Fire a gun What’s the grift? – What are you trying to pull? Trouble boys – Gangsters Boocoos – Lots of Birds – Interesting characters Nailed – Getting caught by the police Bumps – Kills Don’t gum every play I make – Don’t interfere with my plans Hatchet Man – Hired killer Jerking a nod - Nodding Chinning – Talking Nudniks – An irritating person Pan - Face Flat tire – Stupid girl Sweetie – A term for someone a girl doesn’t like Jive – Unpleasant talk Bushwa - Bullshit Weasel – A sleaze who tries to take another’s girl Swell – Good Gams – Legs

Blow – Leave Balled Up – Confusing Dip the bill – Have a drink Tipping a few – Have a few drinks Scofflawing - Chugging down Togged to the bricks – Dressed to the nines Button - Face Lalapazaza - Good sport Conk - Head Ish kabibble - No worries Ducky – Approving Bloused – Leave from Whangdoodle – Jazz number Fag – A smoke Drink from the same bottle – Close friends Bunny – A term of endearment applied to the lost, disoriented Bluenose - Killjoy Lather - Tantrum Broad – Girl Grungy - Envious Canary – Female singer Dry Up – Shut Up baby vamp - a pretty or popular female Edge – A buzz Dizzy with a dame – In love

Chippy - Woman of easy virtue Jingle-brained - Addled Spifflicated - Drunk Cut down – Killed

Out on the roof – To drink a lot, to be drunk Can House – Bordello Beat his gums – Engage in idle chatter Yap – Mouth Close your heads – Shut up Half-screwed – Somewhat drunk Put down - Drink Pop – Kill Hookers – Drinks Clotheslines – Neighbourhood gossips

Cajun slangs:

Enchanté – Delighted to meet you Cher – Dear Come see - Come here Weh – Yes De’pouille – Anything or anyone who is a mess Podna – Friend Honte – Embarassed Kagou – Oh no Juju – Energy Ahnvee – Hunger Envie - Craving

Hazbin Hotel and characters belong to Vivziepop, no copyright intended

List of references and artists who inspired this work

“A Beginning” by DrowningInFandoms208

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21713248/chapters/51792883

(44,737 word fanfiction that goes into detail on Alastor’s past, his hunter father, and his abusive behavior)

“Alastor’s Despair” by AwkwardKaminari

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22240174/chapters/53104108 (symptoms and Alastor’s diagnosis)

“Dressed” by Escarno

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21555379

(Alastor’s mother’s advice)

“He’s A Mama’s Boy” by Legally bi 20

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22568032 (French language and Alastor’s mothers’ similar appearance in Hell descriptions)

“It’s Never Enough” by SydneyArtstuff https://www.instagram.com/sydney_artstuff/ (final Mimzy scene)

“Making Jambalaya With Your Father” by MajorMasterD

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22949809 (mother dying and cannibalism)

“Momma’s Boy” by Dear Husker

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21782773/chapters/51976258

(Alastor’s father killing the mother and list of the years)

“Remembrance” by ornithia

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21787732

(Alastor losing humanity after his mother’s death)

“Sewing” by another–athena

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21800410

(Alastor’s love of sewing voodoo dolls of Hazbin characters. Ideas from this later used in an Alastor fic: “Hidden Hazbin Sins”)

“The Devil of New Orleans” by WritingAndSmiting

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23003890/chapters/55000696 (language, Alastor’s similar name that other’s call him, and a few cultural aspects)

“This is for all that you put me through, you piece of shit”

by VillanousBakugou13

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22874986?view_full_work=true

(Alastor getting raped by his father and then getting his revenge)

BlueRaven666 Alastor rabies death theory

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RE27sNOcDMk

#hazbin hotel #alastor

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nezothecat · 4 years

Text

Prologue

"Young master...?"

"H---mmm." As I slowly open my eyes, I see a room that I'm not familiar with. It was a big room having the appearance of a royal chamber in England. The ray of sun, entering the window, did confuse me a bit.

I can hear people crying and saying,

"Thank Aurora, he's conscious now."

'Hmmm... Who is Aurora anyway?'

I don't know why I'm having a hard time reacting to all this, it might have been because of the newfound comfort this amazingly fluffy bed gave. I would love to go back dreaming regardless of all the crying. But even if I wanted to, I couldn't since my body for some reason felt sore all over.

I had finally managed to ask,

"Where am I and who are you?"

''In your room, Young master. It is I, your butler Sebastian.'' calmly, and with a hint of sadness, replied the guy wearing what really seems like butler attire.

'Sebastian, my room, young master, and a butler?' I couldn't think straight. Last time I checked, I was wasting my time reading a novel about a protagonist who got transported into another world. He saves it from demons and other villains. After that, I dozed off.

'I'm not sure if it is because I'm really not that smart. But it looks to me, I'm either still dreaming or...'

''What happened?'' It feels weird asking someone about the situation. I barely knew them, but at this point, it seemed to be reasonable.

The reluctance on Sebastian's face was clear, but he managed to say softly,

''You've challenged a fellow classmate to a duel and lost.''

I know there is a more concerning matter, but Sebastian really is the epitome of a butler; he has this old refined face that you would easily see in an anime, especially with him having green eyes and white hair. Then again, now that I think of it, he looks similar to Alfred aka a butler of some movie about a hero who is more likely to sleep upside down.

Having misunderstood my reaction, as I looked solemnly pained, Sebastian called my name,

"Young master Naell?''

'I'm not really that smart. But piece by piece, even if I knew it was impossible, I think I'm in a different world.' With that, I once again lost consciousness.

*******

Weeks have gone by since I had been transported into this world. I couldn't really deny it, but after I had woken up from my first realization of what I had become, I really did get panicky. I was misunderstood a lot since they thought I was being the "Naell they knew" the Baron villain's son, also known as the first obstacle of the protagonist Andrew.

I don't remember much probably because I'm physically bruised all over and mentally exhausted with the transported thing, but I can recall the book that I got transported into.

Andrew Sunheart is the main protagonist of the book I was reading before I got poofed into this world. He, like me, was transported here, but the difference is that he was born here as a baby having his memory of his past life intact. It was really a standard transported into another world novel as Andrew with his past memories as a kendo olympic champion honed his skills with magic. Of course, having A-rank adventurer parents contributed to him being strong too.

I, on the other hand, Naell Beryldot, the first villain of the book, got my ass whooped by not only being a butt, but also disrespecting not only the protagonist's main heroine but also the former fiance of this Naell which will be part of Andrew's harem.

I don't clearly remember what chapter it was, but it was nearing the end of Volume 1, meaning my role as a villain has come to an end. The information I got from reading the book stated that Naell was so stubborn with the duel and even tried to cheat resulting in his well-deserved beating.

To summarize, Naell made the Duke; the father of his supposed fiance, revoke their relationship. So yes, I'M NOW SINGLE. Second, since it was a duel that the son of the Baron of Beryldot estate cheated in, Naell's Father (which I should say is really kind since he didn't punish his son.) reputation sunk to an all-time low. But in fairness, my reputation as Naell is the lowest so they actually pity the father more than thinking he is a bad guy. Lastly, because of that incident, Naell will always be remembered as the bad seed of the Beryldot estate.

After that, Naell's life practically got erased in the book. Yet, he was still being recalled by his ex-fiance with pity and rage.

Well, practically what I... I mean Naell tried to do, was to make the main heroine of the story like him, which was by typically bullying her. The ex-fiance saw what he was doing, so she tried to stop him, only to have her cheeks slapped. Then came Andrew, resulting in a duel, a one-sided whooping in the butt.

As far as I'm concerned, Naell deserved to be beaten to a pulp, since he really was a bully and it was for the main hero to power up. But damn, if I got transported earlier, I could have made it so that I'll still duel him but not to the point I'm bedridden for weeks. Yes, still follow the book, but I'm sure I won't harass anyone. Besides, I don't really like to be the protagonist, so having my presence erased through the entirety of the rest of the book is the only consolation I can get.

I don't really have anyone on Earth that will miss me, or I'll miss. My parents died in an accident when I was young. My other relatives, who supported me till I got a job, weren't really emotionally supportive. I don't really have any affection towards them. I did not have friends since I was busy living to provide for myself.

So now that I'm in a Baron estate, which practically screams I'm a noble, I guess my life as Naell will be much easier.

'Boy was I wrong.'

#slice of life #transmigration #isekai #novel #transported into another world #transmigration of a Noble's beaten son

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thecomposerthatwaspromised · 5 years

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‘This will be the final word in the story of Skywalker . . .”

So declares the disembodied voice of Emperor Palpatine in the latest teaser for “The Rise of Skywalker.” The last film in the decades-spanning space opera promises the return of the iconic Sith lord, who’s been pulling strings in this faraway galaxy since our story began. But there is another puppet-master behind the scenes, steering every dramatic incident, orchestrating every twist: composer John Williams.

It’s said that the Devil gets the best tunes, but Williams has long proved that that maxim applies to Sith lords, too. Within Star Wars’ ever-expanding library of leitmotifs — recurring, malleable musical symbols — much of the most insinuating material belongs to the villains, from Darth Maul to Jabba the Hutt to Supreme Leader Snoke. Listening to these nefarious themes with the ear of a music scholar offers a lesson in the real power of the dark side, showing us how music can repel, deceive and, with the right compositional tricks, even charm.

The standard by which all villain themes are now judged is surely the “Imperial March,” Darth Vader’s theme. “It should be majestic — he’s a majestic fellow,” Williams remarked in 1980, “and it should be a little bit nasty, because he is our heavy.” Vader’s leitmotif is, as music theorist Mark Richards has shown, a deviously sophisticated tune, full of rhythmic quirks and harmonic corruptions. But no one in Star Wars is beyond redemption. Vader’s death in “Return of the Jedi” occasions one of the most stunning musical transformations of the saga. Williams strips away the march’s militaristic trappings, leaving behind a sputtering shadow of the theme, orchestrated with such extraordinary delicacy that part of it seems to evaporate with each new phrase. With a final, hollowed-out rendition on a solo harp, the old dark lord expires, and the once-unstoppable “Imperial March” achieves a small measure of peace.

Standing in Vader’s musical shadow is his grandson, Kylo Ren. Among the various motifs assigned to this dark side scion, the most conspicuous is a motto that is, as critic Alex Ross puts it, “dominated by a stagey tritone” — the most demonic of musical intervals. There is a distinct quality of overcompensation to Ren’s roar of a theme, a studied attempt to project the menace of his grandfather. Yet behind the bravado is insecurity. His theme is a disguise. Even when Williams hints at a more authoritative transformation at the end of “The Last Jedi,” the motif is stunted, unable to reach structurally satisfying thematic closure. Like his music, Kylo Ren is unbalanced and unfinished, still just a boy in a mask.

Of all Star Wars’ Dark Siders, though, Emperor Palpatine has the most intriguing musical representation. Williams’s material for the evidently unkillable Palpatine is aimed at making the character simultaneously repulsive and alluring. Palpatine’s primary leitmotif, introduced in “Return of the Jedi,” is constructed around commonplace minor triads that progress chromatically, in a kind of violation of natural musical law. As music theorist James Buhler writes, “The music gives the impression that only a very powerful sorcerer, perhaps only a god, could animate these chords thus.”

The brooding, wordless male chorus that intones Palpatine’s theme reinforces the sense of eldritch unease that the character exudes. Unlike the “Imperial March,” the Sith lord’s music is not overtly threatening, but mysterious and beguiling, like a dark siren’s call. The leitmotif draws from an old association in film and classical music that wordless choruses stand in as the voice of the divine — a technique especially favored by Williams’s old-Hollywood mentor, Alfred Newman, as in the vision scene in “The Song of Bernadette.” The emperor effectively takes one of the angelic choirs featured in epics like “The Robe” and “Ben-Hur” and gives it a satanic makeover.

Williams’s compositions also capture Palpatine’s insidious influence on other characters. Some discerning analysts have discerned the emperor’s melodic fingerprints in the themes for Kylo Ren and his light-side counterpart, Rey. It seems entirely possible that this latent musical relationship is a clue to Palpatine’s as-yet-unexplained role in the events of the new films.

Even more ingenious is the concealed transformation of his theme into a peppy children’s chorus in “The Phantom Menace.” This is a deliciously cynical little musical Easter egg: While the good guys think they’ve won the day, everything, including the soundtrack, is actually proceeding according to the villain’s design.

George Lucas wanted Palpatine’s rise to echo the ascents of real-life tyrants. “Democracies aren’t overthrown,” he claimed in a 2005 interview, “they’re given away.” Williams’s prequel scores reiterate that narrative with on-the-nose musical allusions. For example, when, as chancellor, Palpatine is granted emergency powers, the soundtrack channels the stately style Williams uses to characterize American politicians in a positive light: John Quincy Adams, Abraham Lincoln, John Kennedy and Barack Obama, among others. Heard against Palpatine’s power-grab, such noble strains are perversely incongruent. But they illustrate the dangerous appeal of authoritarianism when presented through a filter of (here musically constructed) nostalgia and patriotism.

An even more forceful connection to American history is made when Palpatine declares himself emperor in “Revenge of the Sith.” For this pivotal scene, Williams reworks a portentous brass chorale from his score for Oliver Stone’s “Nixon.” The passage occurs during a re-creation of Nixon’s fiery speech at the 1968 Republican National Convention. The sequence exaggerates Nixon’s fascistic tendencies and, through Williams’s hyperbolic score, works hard to whip the viewer into a fevered, receptive emotional state. As scholars of music and propaganda have shown again and again, music is as powerful as spoken rhetoric when it comes to opening people up to political messaging. Such turbulent tunes invite us to root for the disgraced president — or space dictator.

The clearest demonstration of the seductive power of Williams’s music comes during the “Tragedy of Darth Plagueis” narration in “Revenge of the Sith,” which finds Palpatine attempting to plant dark desires in Anakin’s heart during an opera house performance of “Squid Lake” (really). At no point in the scene, recently singled out by “Rise of Skywalker” director J.J. Abrams as the best sequence in the entire prequel trilogy, does the emperor’s leitmotif play, but his musical machinations are all over the score. The first half of his narration is accompanied by the deepest male choir yet heard in the saga, chanting a single low B on naked vowel sounds, in the style of Tibetan Gyuto monks. The choir ceases being underscore and becomes diegetic — that is, part of the movie’s fictional space, hearable by its characters. The emperor’s malignant music has seeped out of the soundtrack and into the world of the film.

When Palpatine finally makes his pitch to Anakin, his music does something most uncharacteristic for a Sith: It gets ecclesiastical. For a brief 15-second span, the violas and cellos state a hushed, reverential hymn in pure, unadulterated C-sharp minor. The Sith lord’s secret takes up only five measures. But these measures are profoundly salient, evocative of an antiquated style that has not been heard before in Star Wars. If anything, the hymn is a spiritual cousin to Williams’s Holy Grail theme from “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.” In the orchestral score, the performance instruction is “liturgico” — like a prayer. The ultimate appeal to evil in this series, it would seem, hinges on a feeling of religiosity. A promise of occult knowledge, presented with just the right musical halo, is all it takes. A few scenes (and a temple full of assassinated Jedi) later, Anakin has succumbed to the dark side.

Film music is inherently and unapologetically manipulative, and for decades Williams has proved himself Hollywood’s master musical manipulator. While the black-and-white morality of Star Wars is on its face as simple as can be, the way Williams contributes to this moral universe is far from simplistic. With his music for villains like Vader, Kylo Ren and the emperor, Williams invites us to lower our guards. For the Jedi, the seductive power of evil is a constant threat. And for those of us watching their adventures, likewise, it’s something we can easily hum along to.

#Star Wars #John Williams #Palpatine #Anakin Skywalker #Darth Vader #Ben Solo #Kylo Ren #commentary #analysis

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lisinfleur · 5 years

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Arrangements

Author’s Notes | Being honest, I didn't find a way to have a Saxon princess being sent to Kattegat due to the fact Christians were pretty more sexist and unless she was already negotiated for marriage or some kind of deal with the Vikings, hardly the Saxons would trust a woman to go among Vikings and prevent a war, but yet, I found a way to adapt your idea and I really hope you like the final work!

What if Ubbe's deal with the Saxons had gone right...

Universe | Vikings Pairing | Ubbe x Saxon Princess! Reader Info | Viking Age AU, requested by @cris101071 for 5CW4 Words | 4698 ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, SMUT included, romance.

"Við viljum kröfu landið okkar."

The voice of that Norseman was strange. A low tone you didn't have heard anywhere before.

The two men in front of the table where your older brother and your father were sitting alongside Bishop Heahmund were totally different from anything you have ever seen.

Their hairs were braided and long, they were taller and that one who spoke had eyes of intense blue you could almost say were pieces stolen from the sky on a sunny day.

They were beautiful. Both of them. A wild beauty you couldn't deny, but yet, both of them were scary for you.

For a long time, you saw your father and your brother speaking to those men and more than once, you saw the older of them looking at you. Your father also mentioned your name sometimes, so as that strange man - yet he couldn't speak your name properly, sounding strange in his strong accent.

The two Norsemen were dismissed for a moment and your father, Alfred and the bishop started to deliberate in between them, not really minding your presence into the tent: you were there just because your mother asked you to serve some drinks to your father's table while she was too busy taking care of Aethelred's wounds after the last battle against the Norsemen in York. You were about to leave when those two arrived and so, the curiosity kept you into the tent.

"They want peace," your father said, causing you to smile.

It was a good thing, after all, right?

"Two sons of Ragnar Lothbrok into my camp, after taking one of my towns, and they want peace."

Your smile kinda vanished. It was something good, but your father and the bishop didn't seem to be leaned to accept their proposal.

"It's a good deal, you must admit," Alfred said "We could settle them out of York and recover the power over the city they stole from us. The lands my grandfather promised to them are idle anyway. With the right way to work with them, we could turn this into something good for us," he insisted "The lands would start to produce, more tributes would be taken to the crown and we must admit their military skills are better than ours or we wouldn't be here after all," Alfred wisely settled, "Giving up on these lands for them could mean a good alliance that could include teaching our men their ways to fight. It would make us stronger."

"They're heathens, my lord," Bishop Heahmund stated, trying to sound respectful when his voice was only sounding arrogant to your ears. "We could have nothing to learn from pagans like them."

"I believe they're just... Into the dark," Alfred said, trying to argue with the bishop, "Which just make the situation a little more favorable to us: we could take the chance of convivence to show them the way of our Lord and open their eyes to the light. How many of them could we earn to our Lord Jesus Christ and turn into fellow Christians, my Lord Bishop? Think about it: to end a war, spare the lives of our men, make our military stronger, take lands out of idleness, and maybe earn some souls to Our Lord. I don't see where it could be a bad deal for us, of course, if we keep control over this situation. We have what they want... Set conditions they shall not deny. Rules that shall not be broken."

"They won't trust us," it was the time of your father to doubt, causing the bishop to sigh relieved.

You could see Bishop Heahmund didn't want that deal to happen. But how many of your father's men would have to die until that stupid man could give up on his pride? Wasn't pride a terrible sin under the eyes of your God?

"Then give them something that will make us trustable. If you want to be trusted, then, earn their trust, father," Alfred said "Ubbe has a good proposal, after all. It seals our bloodlines together in a way you shall not lose the hand of the royalty over those lands, in the end."

"Forgive me, my lord, but this would be stupidity."

Should you say how much the voice of that bishop was bothering you?

Nah. You shouldn't even be there!

But you kept your silence, paying attention to what they were talking, wanting to know the destiny of that conflict that had taken you from your home and almost took your brother's life.

"To mix your bloodline with the impure blood of the heathens would only condemn your family and expose Wessex to their lineage." the bishop continued, causing some shivers down your spine...

What exactly did he mean by "mixing your lineage to theirs”?

"My father has two heirs to the throne of Wessex, my Lord Bishop. They wouldn't be able to claim anything over two lines before them unless our Lord decides to take both lives, mine and my brother's, to let in their hands the crown of my father. And yet, it would be our Lord's will, proved in front of our eyes. We shall trust our God's will, shall we not?"

You started to make the math in your head.

Were they thinking about...

"Are you suggesting we should marry my Lady Y/N to that heathen and accept their absurd proposal peacefully, my Lord Alfred?"

"What?!" you squealed, unable to hold back your voice when the bishop delivered the whole conversation in a single sentence.

Your eyes went large to Alfred's and then to your father's.

"Should we be talking about this in front of your sister like that? Y/N, go see if your mother finished her work with Aethewulf and bring me news about my son." your father ordered.

As if you weren't completely paralyzed by the news you just discovered.

Married...

To a heathen?

To a son of Ragnar?

To which one of those men you saw?

The youngest one?

No. He didn't look at you one single time...

The oldest?

Was Alfred speaking seriously about this?

"Y/N!" your father's voice caused you to jump from your chair "Go. Now!" he ordered again and you bent before leaving the tent.

Your heart racing into your chest, your mind disoriented...

You weren't even paying attention to your way. Your steps were automatically following the way to the other tents as your mind was diving into all those questions once again.

Would you have to live among them?

The heathens?

Those some of your people called demons?

Would this be the sacrifice you would have to do to see your people finally free from the horrors of that war?

What about the horrors that could be waiting for you in those men hands?

Lost in thoughts and questions, you weren't able to see the two of them stopped in the middle of the way and your steps took you straight to that man's back: you stumbled and hit the oldest of those Norsemen in the middle of your way.

Your surprised squeal caused your men to unsheathe swords, all of them pointed to the two Norsemen in the middle of the circle of soldiers formed around them by your men, all ready to protect their princess from the two heathens they were being obligated to receive into their camp.

The youngest one among them also unsheathed his sword, ready to defend himself, denouncing how nervous and tense he was - maybe as tense as your soldiers were with their presence.

However, calmer, the older one just helped you to straighten your position after preventing you to fall straight to the muddy ground.

You lift your face to see those blues looking straight into your eyes. It was like he was able to read your soul, but also, it was like his eyes were windows to his and you didn't see fierceness or fire in his eyes... Instead, you saw kindness when he helped you to find your balance one more time.

What was that man?

"I'm sorry..." you mumbled and he nodded before Alfred, your father, and Bishop Heahmund invaded the circle, probably warned by the sound of swords being pulled.

"What is happening here?" your father started, already alarmed.

But you answered him before it could put the two Norsemen into a bad situation - they were outnumbered... The more the Norsemen were skilled and devilish, yet, it would be a massacre.

"I fell. And he prevented me to hit the ground and helped me to stand once again, my father. It was just a misunderstood for he acted too fast and the soldiers were scared by his fast reaction. He just helped me. Once again, I'm sorry. And thank you." you said, politely bending your head in a respectful greeting towards the Norseman.

Your father ordered the men to sheath their swords and you saw that man touching the younger's shoulder, in a mute ask for him to sheath his sword as well, what he did without question.

"Come back into my tent. I think we already have a counter-proposal for you," your father said, inviting those men into his tent once again.

And you observed as the older one kept his eyes on you until they were inside the tent that was closed, preventing you to see or hear anything else about that deal.

You went to your mother, to fulfill your father's orders and the hours passed until you were finally allowed to get into the main tent to speak to your father once again.

"Come near," he called.

Those two Norsemen were still there, but the tension into the tent was different now.

Bishop Heahmund wasn't there anymore, probably unsatisfied with whatever decision was made that was making your brother Alfred to keep a small smile on his lips, victorious.

You stood next to your father and spoke in a low voice, kinda feeling strange with everyone in the room looking at you as if they were waiting for something to happen.

"Aethelred is getting better. Mother said his fever is diminishing and she believes he'll soon start to heal the wound in his shoulder."

Your father sighed in relief: his precious son would be recovered soon.

But then, the expression in his face became tense once again.

"Y/N, these are Ubbe and Hvitserk, sons of Ragnar and leaders of the army that came into our lands to avenge their father's death, murdered b King Aelle. With my father's cooperation..." he sighed as you looked at them, noticing that man he named Ubbe was still looking straight at you. "They came for a deal and we negotiated with them the best way to settle peace for our people and give them what..." he sighed "What your grandfather granted to them before he... Passed away."

So, as you, Ubbe seemed to be attentively listening to the words your father was saying.

So as Bishop Heahmund, the one he named Hvitserk seemed to be unsatisfied with whatever they dealt with your father but, unlike the bishop, he stood in his position, not leaving like a spoiled child.

"Your grandfather granted their people the lands of East Anglia and I shall warrant his words are kept and his desires are accomplished. However, it is pleasing to us to keep those lands closer to the crown of Wessex so..." your father's voice failed for a second.

He wasn't pleased with that decision, but you could see he was doing it for he had no other choice and he had to admit Alfred's plan was perfect for all the involved parts.

"We shall celebrate an alliance among us and the Norsemen. Ubbe agreed in being baptized and as soon as it happens, we shall celebrate your marriage to him, as a symbol of the union of our people and the friendship among the crown of Wessex and the new crown to rise at East Anglia. Meet your soon-to-be husband. I'll see my son." your father got up, leaving the tent in a rush.

He was completely annoyed with the situation, but his way to speak seemed to amuse the older Norseman and Ubbe opened his lips on a beautiful smile that caught you for a moment.

"Your father is too easily irritable," Ubbe said, using your language almost with perfection, despite the strong accent that was making his voice even hoarser. "As he said, I'm Ubbe. And it's a pleasure to meet you, princess Y/N."

He extended his hand to yours and you landed your hand on his, accepting his court when he gently kissed the back of your hand, tickling your skin with his beard.

Smiling he was even more handsome than with that frowned expression he came at the first moment. However, his brother was still frowned, seeming to be very annoyed with the interaction in between the two of you.

"It doesn't seem your brother is too different from him," you said, looking at Ubbe.

Attracting the pissed glare from the younger one.

"He's bothered by the fact I accepted the baptism under your God. Formalities... He forgets my father was also baptized under the Christian God, and also my uncle Rollo. So, it's not something new among our family."

Hvitserk sighed, bothered again. But Ubbe smiled at you a little bigger.

"Don't bother yourself about him. Hvitserk will understand. However, I fear we won't have too much time to talk with each other for now, my lady. I must return to my own camp to warn my brother Ivar about our deal and start the preparations for my men can be moved to the new lands." his eyes went to your brother and Alfred smiled at him when he continued. "At the rise of three suns we shall be ready to leave and York shall be given back to your hands, young prince. But keep my words, Alfred: our fathers had a friendship and your grandfather and my father might have negotiated with each other. But I'm not my father. And I won't accept to see my people treated the way that happened before. Keep your word and I shall keep mine. Break your word and things will be done according to my brother Ivar's will."

Alfred knew what he was talking about.

Despite you couldn't understand exactly what he was saying, something told you that his brother Ivar's will was something really bad for you and your people, enough for Alfred to agree with his words readily.

"As you said, our ancestors had relationships, but you aren't Ragnar Lothbrok, nor I am King Ecbert. Our ancestor's mistakes shall not haunt our steps."

Ubbe nodded, satisfied, turning himself to you with a soft smile.

"I'll see you soon, my bride," he said, kissing your hand one more time before touching Hvitserk's shoulder and leaving the tent with him.

"It won't be so bad, you shall see, Y/N," Alfred came, with a tone that sounded as if he was trying to console you.

However, his expression changed when his eyes found yours and he leaned his head, smiling.

"Or maybe it will be better than I thought. You liked him, don't you, sweet sister?"

Your face became instantly red as a tomato and you pushed your brother's chest, causing him to laugh.

"Stop it, Alfred! What do you mean by liking him? I'm just... I'm just accepting my face humbly as our Lord tells us to do! A woman's fate belongs to her father and brothers to decide and after then, to her husband to rule. It is my..."

"I know. I know, sweet Y/N," he cut you, touching both of your shoulders, with a calm smile in his face, "I know. Don't worry. I was just playing with you, my sister. But listen to me closely, if he ever hurt you or does something you think it's wrong, you can always pick up a horse and come back to me. I'll find a way to help you, ok?"

You smiled.

After all, your sweet brother would always be there for you.

"Thank you, Alfred."

He smiled and kissed your forehead, respectfully.

"Now come... Let us see Aethelred. He must be awakening soon."

The following days were strange. You didn't see Ubbe or any signs of his brothers, however, the watchers your father settled around York warned the Norsemen were really moving. Some of them were preparing the boats to leave. Some were preparing packages and chariots to move.

At the end of three days - as Ubbe promised - the caravans were ready. However, the Norsemen that weren't moving with him were still there to protect the ones that decided to stay: the trust in between your people was thin.

You had a heavy-weight in your shoulders: to make that trust thicker and to strengthen the bonds that deal was forming among your people and your fiancé's.

Despite the clear unsatisfaction of Bishop Heahmund, your father kept his word and the men were taken to the lands of East Anglia where the Princes were settled into the empty castle that should be prepared for you and your future husband to occupy soon after your marriage. Like the bishop, Ubbe's brothers were unsatisfied as well, but as your father, Ubbe kept his word and accepted the baptism rite, denying his false gods and accepting your Lord in order to become a fellow Christian and seal the alliance in between your nations with your marriage to come.

A huge celebration was prepared to seal the marriage and settle his people on the new lands that would be properly divided to receive the new farmers to come from his lands as well.

You watched as a nation was about to be born when you got into the church of Wessex - where your marriage was to be celebrated before your husband could take you back to your new home.

The more he was a Christian now, Ubbe was still looking like a Norseman: cleaner than the men around him, his hair still long and braided with beads you never saw before so as his beard was combed and well straightened. Everything in him was different from the rest of the men you ever knew. And you had to admit your future husband was hella attractive.

He respected the rites of your church, sealing your marriage to him with a chaste kiss that barely allowed you to taste his spicy flavor. Something that changed drastically when the two of you arrived the feast his people had prepared in his lands to celebrate the new lands conquered, the new settlement and, of course, their prince's marriage, converting him from a prince into a King to his people.

There were mead and music and despite the mood of his younger brothers - that settled their departure back home to the day after your marriage party - the party was really full of happiness. Soon, Hvitserk got drunk and you saw your husband laughing alongside his brother who left the moody ways of his younger brother Ivar and started celebrating for real, mocking your husband for being collared now and joking in their native language, sometimes leaving you out of the contagious laughs they were having together.

However, you observed the more his brothers were drinking, Ubbe was keeping control over the amount of alcohol he was drinking and at some point, he stopped drinking from his cup, just smiling and laughing when Hvitserk joked or throwing some words away with his hand all the time around your waist, keeping you near him as if he wanted you to feel safe despite everything was so different around you now.

At some point in the party, Ubbe leaned his face towards you and spoke almost whispering into your ear.

"Come. Let them celebrate..."

You knew that moment would come, but you didn't imagine you would be so nervous when he took you inside the castle, away from the feast and the music, inside the room the two of you would share from that day on.

He locked the door and sat beside you on the bed, caressing your face, straightening your hair, softly sliding his fingers on your cheek.

"Don't worry... I won't hurt you."

"I don't know what to do," you confessed causing him to smile.

"I know. Just follow me. I'll teach you everything."

His face came closer and his lips covered yours, but this time, there wasn't the same chastity of the church. Ubbe's hands brought you closer to the warmth of his body and you saw yourself involved by his scent as his spicy taste was spreading all over your mouth.

His tongue touched your lips and you softly opened them, feeling the way he deepened the kiss, exploring your mouth, degusting your reactions as if it was some kind of delight to him.

His hands started running your body slowly, searching for breaches in your dress, finding your skin in some points, causing you to shiver against his chest. Somehow, it seemed to be what he wanted, for soon he found a way to sneak his hands into your skirt, touching your skin where nobody dared to touch you before.

But he was your husband...

He should be allowed to slide his hands in between your thighs like that, right?

His lips should be allowed to run the skin of your neck in a warm and humid trail of kisses as he was doing, right?

Your mother told you it would happen. She never really raised you like the other women or like your father wanted you to be raised - completely chaste or pure. She knew how the men's world worked so, she taught you about the way men were pleased by the touches of your hands or the flavor of your skin. So, it wasn't such a surprise when his voice became a hoarse grunt in the back of his neck after your hands reached his skin into his shirt Ubbe helped you by taking out of your way.

His hands started untying the knots of your dress and you felt your heart racing into your chest.

You never had been naked in front of a man before. But the sight of your nakedness made his eyes to glow with a different color. The beautiful blues you saw before became darkened as they ran over your curves and Ubbe smiled.

"You're more beautiful than your dresses allow us to see, sweet wife," he said, causing your cheeks to burn, red once again. "Don't be ashamed... You shall get used to being praised very soon, for I couldn't be more satisfied with the wife I was blessed with."

His kisses became deeper. His touches, firmer. Soon your body was arching against the bed as you were trying to deal with the huge amount of different new sensations his lips, beard, and fingers running your body were making you feel, all at once. He seemed to know exactly what to do, where to touch, to take out your self-control and cause your voice to fill the room in sounds you never thought you were able to produce.

So, as you never thought a mouth was made for the things he showed you he could do with his tongue, running your nipples, your breasts, your bellybutton, and places of your body you never thought could be licked or kissed.

Your mother told you your husband would want to take your chastity. And she told you about the pain it would bring at the first moments. She just forgot to tell you how delicious it was to ride a man as if he was a wild horse under your body or how higher were the notes your voice could reach while your walls were pulsating around his hardness, taking smiles from your skilled husband due to the several times he was able to send you to heaven and above.

You were always taught men were touched by the sin of lust and heathens were demons that would lure you into hell. However, at the end of that night, it was you who was still mounting Ubbe like an Amazon, your belly full of his seed, but not enough he couldn't come into you one more time, growling the way you took a single night to learn it was your favorite tone of his voice.

Some few movements more and you collapsed in pleasure into his embrace. Tired, Ubbe leaned back at the bed, laying with your body over his; your skins glued by the sweat and fluids of a whole night of lust and pleasure.

For the first time since it all begun, you felt a little bit ashamed.

"I should be the one to lead you into heaven's way... And here am I, luring you into hell with the sin of lust... I must pray for our souls, husband. This way, we shall be lost to paradise," you mumbled, causing him to giggle, caressing your back that delicious way with his fingertips sliding through your skin from your nape to your hips and back, causing good shivers to spread all over your body.

"Then we shall feast in Valhalla instead," he said, causing you to look up at his face, seeing his beautiful smile. "It's not like the baptism really changes something in a man like me, wife. I mean... I saw Odin with my bare eyes and I was surely blessed by a Freya with one of her mares to be my wife. I might have accepted your terms, but my gods are still with me and if your god will punish us for being happy with our marriage, then I shall stick to the ones who will happily turn my seed in a child into your womb to celebrate what we become tonight, my dear wife."

His words making a sinful sense in your head.

"I should thank Alfred for this plan..." you said, smiling at him.

Ubbe came up to be a terrific thing in your life, after all.

However, he giggled.

"I suggested the marriage, sweet wife," he said, surprising you. "Your brother really cooperated a lot with my idea, but the initial idea of a marriage was mine. I saw you in that tent and I knew you should be mine... So, I asked the king if you were his daughter. If you were his servant, I would have bought you from him. But since you were his daughter, then I saw the perfect chance to seal the deal among us and having you mine the way I wanted."

You looked at him, surprised and impressed.

So, it wasn't a plan from your brilliant brother, but something your husband showed himself very smart and kinda audacious in trying.

"It seems my people were right and you are devilish minds, after all, sweet husband," you joked.

Ubbe held your waist, swirling the two of you in bed to put his body upon yours before pecking your lips and smiling against them.

"Devilish, you say. Smart, I call. One way or another, I have exactly what I wanted: Lands to my people, the end of this war and my beautiful wife, right where I wanted to have her."

You giggled.

"An evil mind... Poor me, married to such an evil man." you joked and he smiled.

"I didn't even start torturing you yet."

His fingers ran your belly, tickling your skin, and you laughed, oversensitive from the pleasure of moments before.

It all ended in a loving and passionate kiss before you smiled at your brand-new husband.

After all, the bishop and people of your lands were wrong about those men. And you couldn't be happier with your marriage.

You would pray your God for his words to be right. Or maybe you would pray his gods as well. But it would be good to think one of them would hear your prayers and make a child from his seed in your belly.

It would be good to see his offspring growing into you and put some more of those beautiful smiles on his lips.

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irinapaleolog · 5 years

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‘This will be the final word in the story of Skywalker . . .” So declares the disembodied voice of Emperor Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid) in the latest teaser for “The Rise of Skywalker.” The last film in the decades-spanning space opera promises the return of the iconic Sith lord, who’s been pulling strings in this faraway galaxy since our story began. But there is another puppet-master behind the scenes, steering every dramatic incident, orchestrating every twist: composer John Williams.

It’s said that the Devil gets the best tunes, but Williams has long proved that that maxim applies to Sith lords, too. Within Star Wars’ ever-expanding library of leitmotifs — recurring, malleable musical symbols— much of the most insinuating material belongs to the villains, from Darth Maul to Jabba the Hutt to Supreme Leader Snoke. Listening to these nefarious themes with the ear of a music scholar offers a lesson in the real power of the dark side, showing us how music can repel, deceive and, with the right compositional tricks, even charm.

Standing in Vader’s musical shadow is his grandson, Kylo Ren (Adam Driver). Among the various motifs assigned to this dark side scion, the most conspicuous is a motto that is, as critic Alex Ross puts it, “dominated by a stagey tritone” — the most demonic of musical intervals. There is a distinct quality of overcompensation to Ren’s roar of a theme, a studied attempt to project the menace of his grandfather. Yet behind the bravado is insecurity. His theme is a disguise. Even when Williams hints at a more authoritative transformation at the end of “The Last Jedi,” the motif is stunted, unable to reach structurally satisfying thematic closure. Like his music, Kylo Ren is unbalanced and unfinished, still just a boy in a mask.

Williams’s compositions also capture Palpatine’s insidious influence on other characters. Some eagle-eared analysts have discerned the emperor’s melodic fingerprints in the themes for Kylo Ren and his light-side counterpart, Rey. It seems entirely possible that this latent musical relationship is a clue to Palpatine’s as-yet-unexplained role in the events of the new films. Even more ingenious is the concealed transformation of his theme into a peppy children’s chorus in “The Phantom Menace.” This is a deliciously cynical little musical Easter egg: While the good guys think they’ve won the day, everything, including the soundtrack, is actually proceeding according to the villain’s design.

The clearest demonstration of the seductive power of Williams’s music comes during the “Tragedy of Darth Plagueis” narration in “Revenge of the Sith,” which finds Palpatine attempting to plant dark desires in Anakin’s heart during an opera house performance of “Squid Lake” (really). At no point in the scene, recently singled out by “Rise of Skywalker” director J.J. Abrams as the best sequence in the entire prequel trilogy, does the emperor’s leitmotif play, but his musical machinations are all over the score. The first half of his narration is accompanied by the deepest male choir yet heard in the saga, chanting a single low B on naked vowel sounds, in the style of Tibetan Gyuto monks. The choir ceases being underscore and becomes diegetic — that is, part of the movie’s fictional space, hearable by its characters. It is as though the emperor’s malignant music has seeped out of the soundtrack and into the world of the film.

When Palpatine finally makes his pitch to Anakin, his music does something most uncharacteristic for a Sith: It gets ecclesiastical. For a brief 15-second span, the violas and cellos state a hushed, reverential hymn in pure, unadulterated C-sharp minor minor. The Sith lord’s secret takes up only five measures. But these measures are profoundly salient, evocative of an antiquated style that has not been heard before in Star Wars. If anything, the hymn is a spiritual cousin to Williams’s Holy Grail theme from “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.” In the orchestral score, the performance instruction is “liturgico” — like a prayer. The ultimate appeal to evil in this series, it would seem, hinges on a feeling of religiosity. A promise of occult knowledge, presented with just the right musical halo, is all it takes. A few scenes (and a temple full of assassinated Jedi) later, Anakin has succumbed to the dark side.

#the rise of skywalker

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novellaquill · 5 years

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Starling: Starting Over

—

Drabble with OC!Batsis x Batfam

Summary:

Lerina begins to doubt her decision and doubts if she can make it on her own but with help from friends she starts to enjoy her new found freedom. However, an old friend may accidentally ruin it all.

Warning: This talks about depression, mental illness, and other serious topics. If these topics make you feel uncomfortable don't read. There is also cursing.

A/N: You finally get to see what she looks like and are introduced to a new character! Young Justice are mentioned.

—

“It’s all anybody wants, right? Clean slate. A new beginning. Like that’s gonna be any easier. Ask the guy pushing the boulder up the hill. Nothing’s easy about starting over. Nothing at all.”

― Meredith Grey

“Everyone has that moment I think, the moment when something so momentous happens that it rips your very being into small pieces. And then you have to stop. For a long time, you gather your pieces. And it takes such a very long time, not to fit them back together, but to assemble them in a new way, not necessarily a better way. More, a way you can live with until you know for certain that this piece should go there, and that one there.” ― Kathleen Glasgow, Girl in Pieces

—

I'm not going to lie this has been hell. My anxiety is skyrocketing, I've never done this before. I spent nights wondering what my family would say if I ever saw them again. Would they be angry or disappointed? Who knows? Why should I care? I shouldn't, but I do. Dick's birthday is coming soon. I've never missed a birthday before what am I going to do? Will they survive without me? Of course, they will. Will they be okay though? Again I ask who know? I shouldn't care, but I do I always will. Every day is a nightmare, it feels like you're on your own even though you have people to help you.

— My best friend Shani gave me a place to stay until I got on my feet, but later on, we decided to become roommates since rent would be cheaper and she's basically my second sister. We got a four bedroom two bath apartment in Star Ciry. Honestly, we didn't need all that space, but Leilei insisted on having a place to sleep when she came to visit, and we both wanted a workspace. Shani mainly just wanted Leilei there so she could get free food whenever she came to visit, that vulture.

Now for the hell part, it's difficult to take care of yourself without having to take care of someone else at least physically. At home, I would remember to eat because I helped Alfred make breakfast for my household. Now I have to remind myself that I have to eat for me. Eating was necessary for survival just another task for me to do. It was hard to find the joy in anything especially when it's for myself. Oh, don't get me started on finding the motivation to do anything. Now that someone isn't relying on you it feels like you can't do anything or find to energy to do anything. When living is a chore with others, and now you're by yourself it feels like you're pushing a boulder up an unclimbable mountain. Maybe I should just go home? I mean what am I going to do out here? Really? Like what's the-"Okay get your ass up," Shani my best friend said dragging me off my bed and into the shower, "You did this at my old place you're not doing it here." "AH! SHIT, YOU SON OF A BITCH THAT'S COLD," I screamed as she drowned my body in the water. "Forget them Lerina you are a strong independent woman who doesn't need a man. Act like it! Now you have a degree in psychology if you saw someone acting like this what would you tell them to do," she asked dismissing the fact that her best friend is still in her clothes and in the shower having cold water pouring down on them. "I'm not a psychiatrist, but I'd tell them to go see one and get to get their life together," I answered pissed. "So what should you do?" "Yeah, I get it. Get out so I can take my own advice." "You're welcome bestie!" "I hate you." — Luckily I did see a psychiatrist. It's kinda fun to talk to him because of my background in psychology, I know the medical terms. I also received a new private doctor so it could be harder to track me. Together my doctor and my psychiatrist found medications that worked for me. Basically all the medicine I hoped to avoid I had to take. I'm on an antidepressant and medication for anxiety, but at least I don't have to take Adderall anymore. I used to as a child, and I haven't used it over a year. I'm officially off it now. I'm supposed to manage my stress, but I went ahead and got one of the most stressful jobs ever. I'm a neurologist! I originally went to school to be a psychiatrist, but that wasn't my calling. I continued the course then switched it to neurology I still love psychology and use the knowledge I learned to read others and give advice from time to time. Let's be honest, it's easier to fix someone else's problem than to fix your own. I didn't want to set a bad example for my patients. It took some time to job hunt and to get the okay from my doctors, but I finally started working. Life has its ups and downs I know that now and after three months my life is coming together. Maybe just maybe I can do this.

—

That naive little fool. Did she honestly believe starting over would be that easy? In only three months as well? Ha! She’d have better luck seeing Jesus and watching hell freeze over with him by her side. Did it not occur to her that her younger siblings would indeed look for her? Oh yes, the batclan began to search for her whereabouts two weeks after she went disappeared and haven't ceased searching since. I bet you curious to why it took two weeks for the clan of vigilantes to look for their missing bat. Well, it all started two months and a week ago. --

Tim noticed Lerina's disappearance the second he entered the Batcave. There was no welcome home kisses, bone-crushing hugs, or dinner. No questions about the mission after being dragged into the infirmary. There was nothing but the pained groans from his fellow vigilantes and the sounds of the keyboard used by Bruce. Tim looked at Jason and Jason looked back a Tim. It was if they shared the same mind that moment, they knew for a fact without a single doubt something was wrong with their sister. "Hey, Alfred did you see Lerina anywhere," Jason asked while getting a bullet wound stitched up "I'm afraid I haven't seen Miss Lerina at all during my return," the butler answered. "She's probably in her bedroom," Dick proposed, "Doesn't she have a board meeting tomorrow?" "Indeed she does but-," "I am certain that Oriel is alive and well," Damian interrupted unbothered by his butler and older brothers' concerned tone. "I didn't know you cared Damian," Cassandra said while putting away her gear, "I don't I believe we should consider taking the time to appreciate the beautiful silence her absence has brought us," he replied with a smirk. "If Lerina isn't here it's for a good reason. Now I want Tim-" "Bruce I'm pretty sure Lerina is missing," Tim interjected. "Nonsense Drake, Oriel is most likely working on father's business files and if not she's with her grandmother. Do Not disturb her I'm enjoying the silence," Damian sneered leaving the group. -- That's how it was for the entire time she was gone. Jason, Tim, and Alfred started their search immediately, however, the others didn't decide to join until 3 weeks later Kamalei complained about not seeing her granddaughter, even if that was a lie. It was then when the police, the league, and young justice were notified of her disappearance. There wasn't even the tiniest unit of dust to point them in the right direction but they continued to search losing hope until someone got a text. "That was Wally," Dick explained as the other began to suit up, "He saw Rina in Star City."

-- "Did you see the news today Rina?" "Oh yes, 'No it's true I am the real Lerina Oriel-Wayne' please," Lerina mocked the latest beauty queen who pretended to be her, "Another demented fangirl craving fame and fortune." "Yo, but did you see how much money your family was willing to lay down for your return? Nearly fifty thousand dollars! Hell, I'm willing to put lipstick on a pig for that much money," Shani exclaimed powerless to hide the shock that trekked across her body. "Only fifty thousand? A pity I thought I was worth more than that," she shrugged entirely unbothered by the amount of reward money her family was willing to spend for her retrieval. "However, what is worrying is if someone recognizes me and reports back to my family. Are you certain it's safe for me to be out in public?" "I'm sure, you don't stay out long enough for the public to remember what you look like and thanks to papa Bruce's neglection he doesn't have any recent pictures of you. Relax, you're in the clear." Shani responded in a laid back tone, "Now let's go get some coffee-SHIT!!" "What," the older woman questioned, "What's wrong?" "It's Wally he's here! He heard everything and he's coming right at us, RUN!" You didn't have to repeat yourself to get the oldest Wayne to run as if a demon was right on her tail but as a regular human, it's impossible to outrun a speedster. Within a second a livid red head blocked their path. "Wally hi. How's everything with Artemis?" "Don't play that with me Lerina you have a lot of explaining to do,' Wally growled taking off with the pair. -- "That's it? That's why you dropped off the face of the Earth?!" Wally shouted his rage scorching the air. "What do you mean "that's it', Lerina argued, "That's a great reason." "You couldn't have left a note?" No, because I didn't want them to find me!!" "Listen Wally," Shani began getting the attention of her best friend and the speedster, "You're not really being fair-" "HOW AM I NOT BEING FAIR!?" he screamed, "The league, Young Justice, her own family are currently killing themselves to find her thinking that she's in some sort of danger only for me to find out she abandoned them! How am I being unfair?" "I didn't abandon them I left to-" he cut her off, "You left to spite them." "I left because if I stayed they would use that 50 grand to plan my funeral," she snapped her response draining the color from Wally's face."W-w-what?" he stuttered unable to get the words out, "I left to save my life, Wally, I would've killed myself in that house," she said voice cracking, "I didn't leave a note because I didn't want them to carry the burden of knowing nor did I want to face them ever again." He sat down on their couch head lowered and fingers running through his red locks, "SO what am I supposed to do, huh? I already texted telling them I saw you here. They are on their way if they aren't already here." "Well, you don't have to tell anyone you found us," Shani stated. Wally's head snapped up, "Are you saying that I lie to them?" "No, I'm just saying-" "I know what you're saying and it's still a lie. Asking for me to lie to my best friend and the bat clan is one thing but the team and my girlfriend too? You've got to be kidding me." "Artemis already knows. You can't be in Star City without one of its vigilantes finding out," Shani explained "Listen," Lerina said sitting next to him, "You can tell them I was here but by the time you come back I'll be on the next flight somewhere else. Why? I finally made a life where I'm not numb and I can live my life to the fullest. I'm not sacrificing my happiness or my health for anyone. Not anymore. Now you don't have to keep my secret I'm not going to ask you do but if you do I know a senior citizen who is always willing to fill that bottomless pit you call a stomach." Wally sighed putting his face in his palms, "He's my best friend, Lerina you can't just-" "Shh let's talk about something else, how are you and Artemis doing," she questioned. The only response was a groan. -- "Are you absolutely sure you saw her?" Nightwing questioned looking over the city. "You saw the picture I sent, it was her," Kid Flashed answered in monotone. "But?' he asked turning to his glum friend. "There were too many people around during a rush hour. I couldn't catch up." he said sighing in defeat. Nightwing didn't show it but he was distraught and Wally knew this but a new feeling of hope also filled the blue vigilante’s heart, "It's fine man. Thank you for notifying us, we'll keep looking in that area during the time she was last spotted to see if we can find a pattern. Then we'll branch out to the rest of the city. I'm sorry for all the trouble." "Yeah," Wally said as a mixture of relief and guilt settled in his stomach, "I'm sorry too."

~Novella Quill

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