#EMOTION AL HAYWIRE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

angelicmark · 5 years ago

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pairing: soulmate!jaemin x soulmate!reader

genre: soulmate!au, ANGST, smut, fluff

warnings: CHARACTER DEATH, als (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis), LOTS OF ANGST, a shit ton of sadness, small suicide mention but no actual suicide, mention of suicide attempt, fingering, unprotected sex, small aftercare, did i mention it’s VERY SAD, read at your own risk.

wc: 8.5k

summary: your perfect soulmate, given to you from heaven itself. just to have it all ripped away from you. some things are less dazzling than they seem.

➣ apart of the narcissistic lovers series

↳ masterlist

[21:43]

you huff out a breath of air. it was cold outside, your body only softly shivering. closing your eyes, you feel your neck starting to burn. the spot right behind your ear. you raise a hand up, feeling the soft scar and cursing to yourself. it was your soulmate marking, and it was honestly starting to piss you off. supposedly you had already met your soulmate, the marking showing up the minute you do. but you still had no idea who it was. but everytime they felt an intense emotion, you could feel it right on the marking. it was red hot, meaning anger. you scoff, what the hell could your soulmate be angry about at this damn hour?

you walk forward in the building, trying to ignore the incessant burning that was almost suffocating you. you always tried to your best to turn off your emotions for the sake of your soulmate, but sometimes it was unavoidable. and you were starting to feel annoyed. where the hell was your fucking soulmate? you wanted to smack some sense into them, or tell them to cool it.

“you look pissed,” you hear a voice, and you whip your head in the direction of your best friend. his eyes were glowing under the light, causing you to take a deep breath and shut off your emotions again.

“sorry,” you mutter, “it’s just this dumb soulmate thing.” you stop, reaching the door to your dorm. “i wish i knew who it was, that’s all.”

hyuck’s eyes travel across your features for a minute, thinking thoughtfully before finally responding, “do you remember where you met them?”

“nope,” you pop the ‘p’ in the sentence, making him sulk, “i’m not even sure what they look like.”

“if i see someone with your marking, i’ll let you know,” he smiles brightly, making a salute gesture.

you chuckle under his bright stare, “thanks, hyuck.”

“anything for my average angel,” he ruffles your hair and you pout.

“shut up,” you swat his hand away. he laughs at that, watching you gleaming eyes. his expression was cute, and you can’t help the smile that graces your features. “it’s late, shouldn’t you be heading back?”

he shrugs his shoulders, “i missed you.”

you smile at him before pinching his cheek softly, “awww, i missed you too, hyuckie!”

he scoffs, shoving your arm away from him and stepping back out of reach as he walks away, “i’ll see you later, idiot.”

you chuckle as you walk into your dorm room finally, taking in the scent of familiarity. your room was silent and plain, the walls white and undecorated. you never found it in yourself to do anything about it, too consumed by studies. it was never a concern of yours, knowing that once you graduate you won’t have this room anymore. it wasn’t necessary.

plopping onto your bed, you easily fall into sleep. your marking finally easing as your eyes grow heavy, the thought of loving someone forever crosing your mind inevitably.

[08:37]

“y/n!”

“fucking hell, wake the hell up!”

“i’m going to knock your door down if you don’t-”

“what the fuck, hyuck?!” you shout, your mind hazy and sleep still in your eyes.

he grins from ear to ear, “i found him.”

you tilt your head sideways, brows furrowing in anger and confusion, “the fuck are you-”

“na jaemin,” he raises his head higher in confidence.

“what about him?” you raise a brow, “you’re roommates with him, right?”

“we’re also friends,” he rolls his eyes, “but yeah.”

“okay, so..” you sway a hand around, eagerly telling him to continue.

“he’s your soulmate.”

you choke on your spit, your eyes going wide as your blood runs cold, “the fuck?!” you pat your chest, and he laughs at your expense, “you can’t fucking say things like that, you idiot!”

“i’m not joking, though,” he pout, “i never exactly noticed it until before we went to bed last night. i’m not sure why, i guess because i never really look behind his ear,” he shrugs, “it’s weird to think about though, because the two of you aren’t really alike.” he looks you up and down before grinning again.

“don’t look at me like that, creep,” you scoff.

“i found your soulmate, where’s my ‘thank you’,” he pouts, shoulders sinking.

“uh huh,” you nod, “hyuck-”

“for once, i’m serious, y/n.”

he stares you down, his grin dropping and his eyes intensely searching yours. you’re about to speak, before closing your mouth again. was he serious? was he really fucking serious right now? panic rushes through your body, looking at him with wide eyes and looking absolutely terrified.

“hyuck!” you scream, punching him in the arm, “i fucking hate you!”

he furrows his brows, “what the hell?!”

“holy shit,” you breathe out, “i hate this.” you run your fingers through your hair, tugging only softly. the air was suddenly too much for you, your lungs threatening to close in on you.

“hey,” hyuck comes closer, “it’s alright. it’s not like you’re automatically dating or in love or anything.”

you look at him again, and his eyes are softer this time. your eyes well up, “this shit is fucking scary.”

“yeah,” he sighs, “sorry about that.”

you huff. this was how you learned who your soulmate was? how embarrassing is that. he’s your best friend’s roommate/friend. it was so sudden, like cold water being dumped on you early in the morning. you cross your arms, looking away from hyuck. you were searching for something else to say, but you stayed silent as he watched you closely.

“do you want to see him?” he asks.

do you? he was your soulmate. shouldn’t you want to? you froze as your eyes became unreadable to him. it was a simple question, but the action itself held intensity. it could be a start to a whole different side of your life you weren’t even sure you were ready for. but, would you ever be ready to meet him? probably not. it was now or never.

“does he want to meet me?” you shuffle, avoiding hyuck’s eyes as it comes out in a low mumble.

he chuckles a bit, “yeah, he does. he was practically jumping around when he found out.”

“does he know who i am?” you look at him this time, head tilted in curiosity.

“yeah,” hyuck shrugs, “why wouldn’t he? you’re my best friend. even if you never come over, he still knows about you.”

it was true. you never really did visit him. the only time you ever really saw jaemin was-

you gasp, raising a hand over your mouth, “i said hey to him that one time!”

hyuck looks at you like you’re stupid.

you roll your eyes, “i was dropping off your shirts that you left here, and he was passing by so i said ‘is that your roommate? hey roommate’.” you pout, realizing how stupid you sounded.

he laughs out loud, his head being thrown back, “seriously?” he looks at you, giggles escaping him, “you’re stupid.” he smiles at you.

you snarl, “whatever.”

“do you want to meet him?” he asks again, “quit avoiding the question.”

you sigh, “i should, right?”

“i would,” he shrugs casually.

you nod curtly, “okay.”

“okay..?”

you roll your eyes, “okay, i’ll meet him.”

his eyes brighten up as he fist bumps the air, “yes!” he grins and twirls around once before looking at you, “come on, idiot! let’s go!”

“i’m not dressed!” you wack his arm away that tries to reach for you.

he makes an ‘o’ with his mouth and nods, “get dressed then, i’ll wait in the car.”

you let out a long breath of air as he leaves.

how much different could jaemin be?

[9:48]

your nerves were on haywire. you felt like you were going to pass out, your breathing starting to labor. you were possibly so close to your soulmate. hyuck could notice your nervous energy, looking at you with worry as he hesitates on opening the door. you were standing outside of his apartment door, and he could tell you were internally fighting with your brain. it was worrying him to no ends.

“hey,” he spoke softly, his slightly high pitched voice soothing you, “it’s alright, you know.” he pauses, looking at the door before back at you, “we can do this another time-”

you huff, “no. i want to do this now.” your eyes were turning glossy, and it took you everything to simply look at him. he took note of the way your lip was trembling. “i’m just afraid.”

he pulls you in a tight embrace, “i know.” he shushes you as he feels your body start to sulk into him.

you pull away from him, you needed to face your fears. you were terrified of losing yourself in him. is that what happens when you find your soulmate? do you lose yourself? you want to believe that wasn’t the case, but loving someone can be so powerful that there is no doubt you will lose yourself at some point. loving someone takes energy. and you were scared you didn’t have enough of it to keep yourself alive.

hyuck slowly opens the door, letting himself in as you trail behind him. immediately, he lets out a dramatic groan, “i’m home, losers!”

you look at him with curious eyes, “wha-”

“haechan?” you hear a gruff voice, and it catches you by surprise. was this jaemin? his hair was ruffled, and it was only slightly curly like hyuck’s sort of looks in the mornings. he didn’t put much into his appearance, his sweatpants hanging lowly on his hips. you take in his looks, realizing just how pretty he actually looked in your eyes. it was almost overwhelming, “who’s this?” he points.

he looks at you, smiling softly, “her name is y/n.” you were confused. was this not jaemin?

“i’m jeno,” he holds his hand out, looking at you with respect glinting in his eyes. you nod back, it wasn’t. you softly take his hand and he shakes it twice before leaning away, “is this jaem’s soulmate?” well, he was blunt.

hyuck laughs as your eyes widen, “way to be subtle, dude,” he pats jeno on the back, “but yeah, she is.” the two boys look at you with bright smiles.

“she’s pretty,” jeno hums before starting to walk away, “good luck, he’s a bit hard to handle sometimes.” he waves you off.

you swallow, hard to handle? hyuck catches your gaze before rolling his eyes, “he’s being over dramatic, don’t worry.” he looks around before licking his lips and shouting, “jaemin! get your ass out here! miss soulmate is here!”

your face heats up, and you feel like you could die right then and there. did he have to be so crude? so direct? it was making you feel light headed, you only wished the ground would swallow you whole. you gulp as you hear footsteps that sound a bit scattered and a small bump and an ‘ouch’. you smile softly at the thought of your soulmate being clumsy.

“huh?” this voice is only slightly different, a bit more lighter but definitely deep. it sends shocks through your body, the thought of it belonging to your soulmate making your body start to shake. you were soon looking at a male with messy pink hair, his jeans clinging tightly to his legs. his shirt was crumbled and looked as if he had just thrown it on last minute. his eyes had a certain sparkle to them, and you were suddenly weak in the legs. and that’s when you see it. the marking. the marking that obviously belonged to the two of you.

“y/n,” he gestures, “meet jaemin.” hyuck smiles brightly.

you see as jaemin’s eyes travel over you, and when he flashes you his enthusiastic smile, you almost feel like toppling over on the ground. he was so beautiful, the prettiest man you had ever seen. you feel like you could smell him, too. his scent was strong from where you were standing, making you dizzy. he smelt like honey and vanilla. it was overwhelming your senses, and you were terrified.

he holds his hand out, “nice to finally meet you.” his voice. curse him and his voice. curse him for being your soulmate. you take his hand very reluctantly, and when you feel the way his soft hands feel in yours, you almost pass out again. he sees the way you start to tremble, and looks at you worriedly, “hey, woah, are you okay?” he goes to pull you closer to him, and you want to fight him and shove him back. but your body starts to fight against you. it felt like he had a magnetic pull on you. “y/n?”

then you start crying. your senses were so overwhelmed, your body starting to shake in his grasp. he gulps when he feels you try to shove him away, “i’m sorry!” you blurt out, eyes blurry and nose only slightly stuffed, “meeting my soulmate, i guess, has a weird effect on me.” you huff, wiping your tears as fast as they come.

jaemin nods in understanding, awkwardly looking at hyuck, “i get that. i was nervous to meet you, too.” it was silent for a really long minute after that as you tried to gain composure again. it was difficult, especially with him so close to you still.

“yeah,” you breathe, pouting slightly, “i’m sorry, i sort of ruined this all.”

he smiles at you, “not at all.” he was kind, taking your feelings into consideration, “if it’s too much, we can-”

“no!” you quickly say before you can even think. you look away for a minute in embarrassment before meeting his gleaming eyes again, “this is important to me.”

his expression goes soft, and he feels his heart start to tighten and his stomach start to turn. you were too precious for his own good. you were silently driving him insane, your scent and voice making him feel just as dizzy. he tried not to show it, though. afraid it would scare you off. he couldn’t risk scaring off the one thing he really had going for him.

“it’s important to me, too,” he says back, looking at you such intensity you weren’t sure you knew existed. it was all intense. the whole ordeal was intense. the air fell silent after that, and it felt like it was just the two of you in the whole entire world. you look around, trying to catch where the hell hyuck went. he wasn’t beside you anymore. it was just you, and jaemin. “here,” he hands a piece of paper when you gaze back at him, “it’s my number. you can call and text at anytime. you’re my soulmate, afterall.”

your chest hurts, and you feel like you’re losing your mind, “oh,” you take the paper silently, smiling at him softly, “thank you.” your voice was so quiet in the soft air, and it made him smile back twenty times brighter.

“anything for my soulmate.”

[13:02]

it took you four days to actually text him. and it took you two weeks to actually face him again since that day. you were moving incredibly slow, but he couldn’t blame you. you were so fickle, he was afraid of saying the wrong thing and chasing off his soulmate forever. your mind was always racing from one thing to another, and you had such an anxious demeanor. it was the opposite of his cool-headed one. he never really showed he was nervous, meanwhile you were always on the verge of tears at just the small sight of him. you weren’t sure why you were like this, or what was going on with you mentally. but you wanted to make this work. to hell with your anxiety.

you breathe out. it’s been two months since meeting jaemin, and the two of you were still only trying to get to know each other. it hasn’t been that long in your eyes, still going through the motions and trying to figure out if everything was real.

“you okay?” jaemin questions, his voice making your body start to spark.

you shift in your seat, “i know i sound like a broken record right now,” you swallow hard, “but i’m afraid.”

“tell me of what,” he was patient, his eyes not wavering. but yours were. they were all over the place.

“i..” you never truly said this out loud. you were even afraid of saying it aloud and making it come true. but he was your soulmate, you were supposed to trust him, right? “i’m afraid of loving you, in all honesty.” the room stayed silent as he waited for you to continue. he was so caring, it made you wonder if you already were starting to love him. “i can’t afford to lose myself in the process of loving you. it’s a scary thought. and even the possibility that you’ll run away because i can never set my mind straight, that scares me too. what if i love you, but you don’t love me back? what if this whole soulmate thing wasn’t made for me?” you look frustrated, eyebrows furrowed and gaze concentrated.

jaemin waited to see if you were done, and when you didn’t speak again, he responded. “i see we have the same mind, then.” he rests his head in his hand, “soulmates really do think alike, huh?” your eyes whipped in his direction as he looked at you softly, making your body start to melt and relax. “i’m not leaving. i know it doesn’t make much of a difference saying it, but i really don’t think you’ll be the only one loving their soulmate. i know i’ll love you. in time, i know i will. and that’s all i really have right now. i can’t predict the future but i know i’ll love you, and i know i’m going to be here.”

his eyes were intense, searching yours as if they held all the keys to everything he owned. as if they were the only way to his own sanity. you were once again overwhelmed, but it wasn’t in a bad way. you were starting to trust him. starting to ease into the idea of loving him, being with him as a soulmate. it was a warm thought.

“thank you,” your eyes tear up and he smiles at you, “a lot. really, thank you a lot.”

it was less tense after that. the air seemed to lighten day by day and you were really starting to grow really fond of him. jaemin was starting to open up your heart, and you were becoming less and less scared at the thought. you were willing to trust him with your heart when it came down to it.

[18:12]

seven months after meeting. neither of you have kissed, or shared more than a couple of nudges of touching. there was the occasional hand holding, but it was super rare. you were starting to notice the way jaemin would stare a little longer than normal. how he would try his best not to scare you away. it was all at your pace, and how you wanted it to be. but now, you wanted to kiss him. you wanted to feel what it was like to truly kiss and feel your soulmate up against you. was it as thrilling as everyone made it out to be? you hoped it was.

“jaemin,” you say his name, and he feels his ears start to burn from the way you say it with such grace. it was easily one of his favorite sounds.

“hm?” he hums back, yawning a bit as he sits beside you on the couch. it felt like you were oceans apart, the two of you not even close enough to graze your hands together. he sees the way you scoot closer to him. he feels his heart start to pick up pace, and suddenly he’s not tired anymore. “yeah? are you alright, y/n?”

you look at him, and for the first time in a really long fucking time, you weren’t nervous. you weren’t unsure, and you weren’t freaking out. and, for once, you were ready. completely ready to bare yourself to him. it wasn’t overwhelming, and you didn’t feel like you were suffocating. it was like living in the clouds. his scent came along your sense, and you almost visibly shuddered at the smell. he was always so sweet. you scoot even closer, your body so close to his the both of you can feel one another’s heat radiating off the other. jaemin shifts in his seat, but doesn’t make a move to get away from you. you take this as a sign of trust.

it all happened so fast, yet so slow. his lips were suddenly on yours, but at the same time it was such a long wait. the two of you were moving so in sync, your lips mushed together in a soft, passionate entangle. it wasn’t rough, wasn’t too much. there wasn’t a shit ton of tongue, and there wasn’t too many emotions. it was perfect in your eyes. it was slow enough to savor the feeling, and fast enough to ease your mind. your hands travel to his hair, and his go to your waist. it feels like heaven having him so close, feeling your soulmate’s emotions from the soft tingling behind your ear.

he pulls you slowly on top of him, so slowly as if he was afraid you were going to run away. but you weren’t. not in a million years. not after getting him so close for the first time ever. you were living in your own personal heaven. the world was starting to drift away from you, the only thing in your mind was jaemin, jaemin, jaemin. the way his hands would only softly rub against your sides, not ushering you to come closer unless at your own will. not initiating anything further or making you come out of the trance you were currently in. it was everything the two of you have done that lead to this very moment. the light touching, the occasional flirting, nothing ever being too much. nothing was ever too much with him. he did everything for you, with you. and you were extremely grateful for his patience. extremely grateful that he was your soulmate. the only man worthy of holding you together, but also keeping the smallest amount of distance just enough for you. it was all for you. everything he did, was for you.

when you part, out of breath, you’re both panting heavily and there’s a small string of saliva that connects between your lips and his. you rest your forehead on his, and he looks at you with shining eyes. you see an expression on him you were so used to, but this time it felt completely different. it felt different being so close to him. and it didn’t freak you out, or making you want to pull at your hair out of stress. your fingers stayed glued to his own hair, stroking and running them through his hair with ease. he enjoyed your touch and the feeling it gave him. you were his solace. his hands were on your waist, his thumbs moving and caressing you. it was silent, the air thickening.

neither of you spoke as you both leaned back in for another kiss. this one just as mind numbing as the last.

[20:20]

your eyes lock with his, and he’s moving so carefully like you’re made of glass. you were determined to make this the night you gave all of yourself to him. he never pressured you into anything, and you didn’t feel pressured in the slightest. none of this felt forced for the sake of the two of you being soulmates. it felt so natural, and you were expecting to find yourself scared. but you found nothing scratching at the surface of your brain as he sat on his heels, eyeing you with adoration. nothing but pure, unadulterated adoration.

“are you sure, love?” he asks. and it’s such a sweet nickname he had developed within the last few months. it was one year since meeting him, and every last second the two of you spent together, was always just as safe and loving as the next. you were truly starting to understand the concept of love, and why you were made just for him, and him just for you.

you lean up and stroke his cheek, his head leaning into the touch, “yes, jaemin.” you kiss him tenderly, your emotions swirling and your head starting to run dizzy, “i’m always sure with you.”

jaemin leans back and takes in your naked form, you were such a fucking goddess in his eyes. you were an angel made only for him, only for his eyes. it was such a pure sight, seeing you displayed just for him. he was slow with his hands and he trailed them along your thighs, admiring the way you raised your hips for him. he smiles softly at the action, your wet core coming into view and making him go crazy. he takes two of his fingers, spreading your lower lips apart and taking everything in. he hears the small plea you let out, followed by a soft whine. and he can’t seem to ignore you, easily slipping both of his fingers in. you were so wet, fuck.

“baby,” he groans, looking at the way you start to fist the pillow beside your head. your body was hot to the touch, and your neck was starting to tingle and become an overwhelming sensation. “you’re so pretty like this, always so pretty no matter what.”

he slowly, very fucking slowly, starts to move his fingers in and out. it was such an excruciatingly pace, making you toss your head back and forth and buck your hips into his fingers. you know he was just trying to stretch you out, his fingers scissoring in place before going in and out again. but you were dying to feel something more, dying to have him fill you up somehow.

“please,” you whine, and it’s such a pretty sound, “please, jaemin.”

“what do you want, my princess?” he leans down to kiss along your jaw and collarbone.

“you,” you pant, your hands coming up to run through his hair, “you, please. give me you. i want you, all of you.”

he can’t deny you, especially not after that. he slips his fingers from you, making sure to lick up what was left. he sighs at the taste, telling you just how sweet you are. he makes quick work to hover over you, giving you a sweet look as his eyes search yours. you lean up, asking for a kiss, and he grants your wish. the kiss was slow, slower than usual. there was no rush between the two of you, and you cherished this very moment. you made sure to remember this forever.

“are you ready?” he asks gruffly, his voice making you slightly jolt.

you nod, “yes, of course.”

he nods, too. letting out a soft breath, he slowly starts to sink into you. and it feels like you’re finally connecting. it feels like you were made to do this from the moment you met him, from the moment you even fucking knew about him. it was so sweet, the moment making your heart sing in your ears. you could feel him bottom out in you, making you groan at the feeling of his cock stretching you so well.

“s- so tight, princess,” he huffs, and his dick can’t help from twitching when your tight walls contract around him. you were too much for him, so good. “ah,” he breathes, head lowering onto your shoulder. when he leans over and starts to lick at the soulmate marking behind your ear, you keen into him and beg him to move.

“oh god,” you whimper in his ear, and it’s his favorite melody, “please, please move. i need to feel you move inside me, jaemin.”

he nods, his forehead starting to glisten with sweat. as he pulled back, and slowly went back in, you let out a noise you didn’t even know you had in you. it was such a pretty sound though, jaemin needed more. so his next thrust was a bit more harsh, making you cry out a soft shout of his name. it felt so good. his mouth was working at your marking, his hips moving so intensely against yours, occasionally opting for rubbing against your clit and then thrusting again. it was so overwhelmingly good. his cock scratched right against your sweet spot every single time, like he immediately knew your body before you even knew it.

“you feel so good,” he moans, and it’s such a sinful sound, making you tug on his hair, “god, y/n. you’re always so fucking good.” jaemin doesn’t cuss much, but fuck, it sounded so good so close to your ear like that. especially since he was groaning, sending you higher and higher towards your pleasure.

“jaemin,” you whine, one of your hands moving down to scratch at his back, and this is his sign to move even faster. it wasn’t rough, though. never too much, never in risk of hurting you. “your cock feels so good inside me.” you whisper, licking the shell of his ear.

he shudders, his hips stuttering against you, “and your pussy feels so tight around me, baby.”

you mewl, the sound coming our foreign to you but to him, it’s heaven. you were so close to coming undone around him, so close to cumming on him. he wanted you to cum first so bad. he reaches down and starts rubbing at your sensitive bud, making you gasp and buck against him. you were close, so close. he could tell from the way you were clenching around him.

“cum for me,” he huffs, his voice coaxing you even further to your release, “come on, baby. cum all over me, show me you’re mine. my pretty soulmate.”

he licks your marking again, and suddenly your wailing towards him, clutching him so tightly as you start to come undone around him. you were shaking beneath him, crying out broken syllables of his name. it was earth shattering, ground breaking even. he followed you not too long after, the intense feeling of you cumming around him sending shocks through his own body. he could feel your nails digging so deeply into his skin as he released inside of you, riding out both of your highs. he clutches the sheets tight, his hand coming up from rubbing against your clit, careful not to hurt you. it was heaven. this was heaven, you were right where you were supposed to be. with him.

you were both out of breath, sweating and incredibly warm. he slowly, very slowly again, eases out of you. he watches as his cum and yours mix together while falling out. he hums before getting up and making his way to the bathroom. you were grateful for him cleaning you up, the warm washcloth surprisingly cool on your hot skin. when he’s done, he throws it somewhere and quickly lays down to pull you against him, throwing a silk sheet over the two of you.

“i..” he gulps, licking his lips, “i love you.”

you clutch him tight against you, feeling as tears start to well in your eyes, “i love you, too.”

it was the first time ever really telling someone you loved them in this way. it was the first time ever making love to someone. the first time ever baring your soul with someone.

and you were so glad it was him, and no one else.

[14:34]

“you know,” jeno starts, sitting in the living room as the both of you wait for jaemin to hop out of the shower, “jaemin was actually really depressed before you.”

your eyes glance in his direction, “what?”

he flips through his phone casually before putting it down and looking at you with an intense gaze, “he tried to... well, he tried to take his life,” he gulps, and you only nod your head as you feel your heart quickening pace, “he’s not open about those kinds of things very often. none of us really knew he was like that. it’s very hard to tell when something is wrong with him.”

you look away from him, not really sure what to say, “i’m sorry.” and that was all you could manage. your mind was starting to run on haywire.

he shakes his head, “it was almost two years ago, it’s fine. but after that we all could tell he was only holding himself together for the benefit of others. but, when he’s around you, it’s like he doesn’t have to act. it’s like he really means it this time.” jeno pauses as you nod your head with a soft smile, “so, thanks, you know. for helping him out.” his gesture was awkward, but you knew he was doing his absolute best.

you look at him with genuine eyes, “you don’t have to thank me. he’s my soulmate, and i’d love him even if he wasn’t.”

jeno nods, “i know.”

the both of you hear jaemin’s door open, and you both act as if the two of you weren’t discussing the secrets of his life. and although a part of you felt like you were intruding, you were still glad to know. you were more than determined to make him the happiest man alive.

“ready?” jaemin asks, giving both of you a smile and gracing a soft kiss on your cheek.

you both nod, ready to go about your day like usual.

[17:56]

time seems to slow down, yet go by really fast around him. you were really starting to fall in love, hard and fast. it was a different type of love, and you were unsure if you were starting to lose yourself or not. you would die for him. you would risk your life, if it meant saving his. your heart ached as you sat on the kitchen counter, watching as he started to cook. it wasn’t clumsy, and he was actually a pretty good cook. it surprised you, in a way.

you swing your legs a bit, “jaemin?”

he glances your way quickly, nodding his head, “yes, love?”

you sigh at the nickname, a smile gracing your features, “you’re always so good to me.”

he raises an eyebrow, eyes peeling away from the directions for only a few seconds before he shakes his head with a chuckle, “you’re my soulmate. i love you.”

“is that the only reason you love me?” you tilt your head. if it wasn’t for the marking on your neck, would he still be by your side? you doubted it. but you still wanted to ask.

he shakes his head again, more serious this time, “no.” he’s affirmative with his answer, “i would love you, even without the stupid marking on your neck. you’re more to me than that.” he looks at you for longer than two seconds, his eyes holding yours in an intense battle.

you smile softly, “i love you, too.”

he nods, “i know.”

it was good to know he knew. you weren’t exactly as good at expressing yourself the way he was, and he knew that. but having these small conversations were enough for him. it was more than enough for him. he enjoyed your company, no matter what. hearing you tell him you love him just once a day was enough to put his mind at ease. he would love you regardless.

your eyes glance towards the time as you place a couple plates on the table, one for you, one for jaemin. you breathe in a deep breath. your life took such a drastic turn with jaemin around, and you were forever happy. as long as it was with jaemin, it didn’t matter where life took you. your soul marking starts to soothe into a deep cold. your back shivers.

“jaemin?” you rush to the kitchen, and you see him glowering with sunken eyes. “jaemin..?” you ask again, placing a hand on his shoulder. his grip on the counter tightens as you see tears start to roll down his flushed cheeks. his eyes are slightly covered by his bangs, but you don’t mistaken the look on his face, even with his head hung low.

“i..” he pauses, swallowing as his body starts to shake. he feels your arms wrap around his body with ease, and he’s quick to wrap his own around yours, too, his face pushed into your neck. you feel tears start to soak your shoulder and shirt, and confusion rushes through your mind. what the hell is happening? you rub along his back, trying to ease the pain he felt in his chest.

“you can tell me,” you whisper, and it coaxes him to sob harder. but you knew he needed this. he needs this small moment of breaking apart. “i’m here, jaemin.”

“amyotrophic lateral sclerosis.”

it was three words. but they struck you deep through the heart. you could feel your body turning stiff, your world spinning beneath your feet, your heart picking up pace. your whole entire world came crashing in on you in such a short amount of time. everything was changing, and this time it was for the worse.

na jaemin was sick.

he was sick, and there wasn’t a cure.

time passes. and you no longer have the courage to look at the clock, anxiously hoping time slows down just for a moment. it was overwhelming. everything was sickeningly slow, yet way too fast. you could see jaemin slowly growing weaker and weaker. no matter how many doctors you paid for, no matter how many pills he took, there was no slowing down how fast his body was starting to lose its momentum. it was breaking your heart.

memories had built with him over time. some good, some bad. but never enough to make you want to leave him. there was never a single doubt in your mind that jaemin wasn’t the one. jaemin gave you everything you weren’t sure of. he made you believe in love, made you realize just how much you needed him. he was there. he was always there for you. when you fell down, when you needed him the most, when you needed a pick-me-up. he was there. and you were more than determined to be there for him. he needed you now. he needed you to be there. and yoy were. weeks passed, weeks turning into months since being diagnosed. you knew there was no cure for what he had, and you knew death was almost certain in these circumstances. and even if the doctors said it most likely wouldn’t be soon, you still made sure to take mental pictures of jaemin every single time you saw him. you love him. you really, really love him.

“jaemin,” you run your fingers through his hair.

he croakily responds, his throat turning itchy, “hm?” he couldn’t find it in himself to properly respond, his body aching severely.

you could feel the aching in his bones. you could fucking tell it was tearing him apart. and it was hurting you like no other. why did this have to happen to you? why him? jaemin was nothing less of a perfect doting boyfriend. nothing fucking less.

tears were rolling before you could help it. you wanted to be strong for him, wanted to hold yourself together for the sake of his happiness. but you just couldn’t. your soul was bound to him, you were running on a rollercoaster of emotions. how could you even imagine living without him?

“hey,” jaemin sits up slowly, and you sob harder. your body racks and shakes, and he attempts to hold you. his eyes were sad, “i’m still here, you know.”

“they said it was increasingly getting worse..” your body was on the verge of giving up, your marking running cold, “i- i don’t know. i don’t know what i’m going to do, jaemin!” your life was falling apart.

“i won’t be going anywhere for awhile, y/n.” his voice easy, soft, comforting. it was everything you weren’t right now. how could he be so calm about all of this? especially when his bones were aching? when his throat was dying?

“i’m sorry,” your head hangs low, “i should be the one that’s there for you. god, i’m so sorry,” you shiver as jaemin pulls you into his embrace. he lays on the bed, and even if his body is begging him not to move, he pulls you even closer to him. because you mean so much more to him than his own health. and it was scaring you. “please, don’t do that. i need you to relax.”

he hums, unable to respond. his voice was dying out on him, reaching his limit for the day. so he does as you say, laying back and letting you pull blankets over the two of you. he feels you snuggle up next to him, eyes still stained with tears. and it hurts. it hurts his chest, and he feels just how shivering cold his marking is from how upset you were. there was a tinge of heat, simmering with the ice cold. you were battling a war inside your head, and he couldn’t help from feeling guilty. he was the reason you felt like this. and he couldn’t do anything.

“i love you,” you breathe, sighing as your senses flood with his smell, “so fucking much.”

he chuckles a bit, “i love you so much, too, my love.” he was exhausted, his eyes falling heavy.

your hands clutch tightly to the clinging fabric on his chest, eyes shut tightly as you reminisce this certain feeling of having him next to you. the moonlight has a pretty glow on his slightly pale skin. he was ethereal, the prettiest human you’ve ever laid eyes on. he made you so happy, and you were afraid of having to let it all go. you never wanted to leave him. never wanted him to leave you.

but nothing lasts forever.

and it hurts knowing that.

“i’m always going to be here, jaemin.” you kiss his cheek, watching as his chest starts to rise and fall easily, “always.”

your heart stops in your chest.

you thought you had more time.

it feels like you’ve completely been dumped in cold water, your veins knowing that something wasn’t right.

jaemin wasn’t breathing.

you woke up that morning, not feeling the easy breathing that would normally tickle the back of your neck. you woke up that morning, not hearing a croaky groan as he stretched. you woke up that morning, feeling nothing but his cold, lifeless body.

you woke up that morning.

losing the love of your life.

and it was earth shattering. you remember screaming, crying, cursing, demanding why this had to happen to you. you remember breaking down as jeno and hyuck rush in the room to see why you were so distraught. you remember the look of fear and realization. you rememeber feeling so sick to your stomach. you remember rushing to the bathroom, throwing up and feeling as your body starts to crash and burn on you. you remember the sirens of the ambulance. you remember the paramedics taking him away. you remember, you fucking remember.

and a weak part of you wishes you didn’t.

you were supposed to have more time. you were supposed to get married, have at least one child, see the world together. you were supposed to get your happy ever after with him. was there a reason why you were being tortured like this? was there a reason he had to go so soon?

you miss him. you miss his laugh, his smile, his sweet words he would whisper in your ear before he fell into a deep slumber. there was no replacing him. there was no replacing the feeling he gave you. and you remember curling in your bed for weeks, months at a time. you remember his funeral being held just a week after he passed in your arms that night. and you remember not going. and you remember hyuck screaming at you through the door that day, saying just how sick you are and how much a ‘terrible human being’ you were. but you didn’t care. no, you really didn’t. because nothing else mattered. not a single thing on earth mattered anymore. he wasn’t there anymore.

you weren’t proud to skip his funeral. you were breaking apart day by day, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to even eat anymore. you were surviving off of the bare minimum just to keep you alive. but, there were times where you barely even wanted to be. your soul was shattered. your heart was broken. you were already in a million different pieces. it was hell. you were living in your own personal hell. you watched day by day, week by week, month by month as his body started to give out. you watched, unable to help him. and you so desperately wanted to remember the good times with him, but everytime you did, it just tore you apart even more. you couldn’t find it in yourself to smile over the small moments with him, only finding yourself crying for the rest of the night until your body fell into exhaustion. you were at your peak, unable to process anything anymore. none of it felt real, yet at the same time, it all felt too fucking real.

you sigh, your heart heavy and your eyes filled to the brim with dried tears. you couldn’t feel anything anymore. you were exhausted. your body was turning tired, feeling as if the tears were even starting to dry out. your body couldn’t move. not for months, at least. it took you almost 5 months to finally get the courage to call hyuck and apologize for missing jaemin’s funeral. you were still grieving. still trying to pull yourself together after losing the one thing that truly held you together through your anxious mind. jaemin walked you out of your slumps. and now that he wasn’t here, you needed to do it on your own. at your own time, at your own pace. and you knew you would get there eventually. but it would never be easy. you will never be able to erase jaemin to the feeling he gave you. you would never be able to forget him. you will never love someone as much as you loved him, and you knew that was a given. you knew that. but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less.

almost 7 months after his passing, you finally make it to his grave. you stand right in front of his tombstone, and you feel emotions flooding your senses. you trace your fingers lightly over your marking, and you wince. jaemin may be gone, but his memory will forever be there. you breathe in a long swish of air, feeling the cold sensation on your skin. it was mid-winter, the air feeling crisp beneath your fingertips. you look at the grey tombstone, noticing that just below his name was your soulmate marking. and you curse to yourself. you missed his funeral. you missed it, because you were too selfish to leave your bed. you were in such a broken state, unable to even move. you couldn’t bare standing in front of his casket, watching as they lower him into the ground forever. it would have broken you a million times more than you already were. you just weren’t ready. you didn’t think you ever would be.

but, here you were.

standing in front of him again.

you sit down, sitting criss-cross as you face him for the first time in months.

“jaemin,” it almost sounds foreign saying his name again. but you continue, you needed to. “you gave me my will to live. and i know that sounds cheesy. and i know that you would probably tell me that i shouldn’t think like that, but i’m just being honest. i love you, so much. i couldn’t bring myself to go to your funeral that day. because it felt like it was forever. i was scared of saying goodbye back then, i couldn’t imagine a life without you. and i still can’t. i still think about how much easier it would be if you were just here, and nowhere else. i think about every single moment we spent together, and i remember every single tiny thing we did together.” you pause, breathing in a deep breath, “i remember meeting you, telling you how i was scared, kissing you, loving you. i remember it all.. and i even remember waking up that next morning and realizing you were no longer there with me.

“you’re my soulmate, jaemin. and i hope you know that, despite my selfishness, i still love you. i still care about you. you were my everything. you were someone i could not live without. you taught me how to love, how to truly, fully love someone. you even taught me my own self worth. you eased the pain when it got too much. you made me realize i had a reason to live in the first place. you gave me life, jaemin. you made me feel so alive. and i will never be able to thank you enough for loving me through it all, even despite how mouthy and mean and selfish i could get. no matter how emotionally anxious i became. you were there, and i knew you loved me. i knew, because you were still there every single morning. telling me just how much i mean to you.”

for the first time in weeks, your eyes well up in tears. you feel one drop on your knee as you try to wipe the rest away.

“i love you, na jaemin. there is nothing more to it. there is no defining my love for you, and there is no forgetting the feeling you gave me. i will always love you. and i don’t think i’ll ever be able to fully let you go. but i need to do this, jaemin. i hope you can forgive me, and i hope to see you again one day.”

“goodbye, jaemin. thank you for loving me.”

and that night, you remember seeing a silhouette of jaemin, you remember hearing his sweet voice in your dreams.

“i love you, my love,” he spoke, “please, never forget that. you can let go now. it’s okay, i’ll always be here.”

and, despite it tearing you apart the next morning. you could feel relief wash over you.

you were letting go.

because i might not always have you but i’ll have the feeling of you for the rest of my life.

861 notes · View notes

angrylizardjacket · 4 years ago

Photo

and i’ll miss you

a run to paradise au | [ p l a y l i s t ]

Summary: Lola’s dad, Leo, lives. A series of conversations between Lola, Leo, and Irene, her mother, throughout her life.

A/N: 15,449 words. @misscharlottelee @local-troubled-writer for putting up with me all through writing this. this is making me so fucking emotional you don’t even know. lola’s parents aren’t shitty i promise!! i will say that lola is manipulative but it’s never for negative or selfish (mostly) reasons, but still thought i should warn you.

----

Lola’s sixteenth birthday present from her parents is tickets to see KISS perform live when they were set to come to town in a few months, seeing as how they were currently her whole family’s favourite band. Well, okay, they were her dad’s and her’s, and her mom liked their music well enough but was never fanatical. However, Irene would hum along and tap her foot as she did the diner’s banking for the night once it had closed, as Lola and Leo blasted their music from the jukebox as they were cleaning up for the night.

“A friend of mine got me the tickets,” Leo was telling Lola, “you know Bill, he’s the guy who always eats his fries with no sauce,” he prompts, and Lola makes a noise of recognition.

“He hasn’t been in for a while,” Lola pointed out; he’d been a regular for as long as she could remember, he was a good friend to her father, and once snuck them onto set for a TV show he was working on at the time, though Lola didn’t recognise the show, her dad was overjoyed.

“’Cos he’s been managing KISS!” Leo’s practically bursting with excitement, acting like a big kid, up to his elbows in dishes with his daughter beside him, drying them. Lola, upon hearing this news, almost screams.

“Sweethearts, please don’t let the neighbours think we’re being murdered,” Irene called out from the counter, though there was the faintest smile in her words, and both Lola and Leo called back an apology.

----

For each day that the concert grows closer, Lola grows more anxious. Her friends, while she enjoys their company and their tastes in music, are far more fond of ABBA, and don’t get why Lola’s so excited about punks in face paint. Lola’s cut out a picture of KISS and sticks in the front of her binder, and one friend wrinkles her nose at it, calls them gross.

Lola likes ABBA. Lola likes all sorts of music, Leo had made sure of that, but it was disheartening that her friends weren’t so open minded. Which is why she can’t ask any of them what to wear to the concert; they don’t go to rock concerts. Her dad’s ‘you’ll look kick ass in anything, Lola’ is well-meaning but unhelpful; he has to say that, he’s her dad! Surprisingly, it’s her mom who saves the day.

“You’re fretting, Keola,” her mother says softly. They’re in the diner, side by side at the counter during a lull; the hiss of Leo cooking from the kitchen, and the hum of music from the jukebox fill the air, but Lola’s twisted the straw in her hands that no matter how she untwists it, it’s mostly unusable, not that she’s noticed, looking at the wall where her parents have put their music memorabilia.

“I’m not fretting,” Lola huffs a little. The concert is in two days and she still doesn’t know what to wear, “mom am I a dork?” And it’s more nervous than Lola had wanted it to sound, even if it had been playing on her mind for almost a week.

Irene’s lips twist into something faintly amused at the phrasing, but her eyes are kind and gentle.

“Sweetheart, you are mine and your father’s child,” she says, ��we are both very big dorks.” Lola gives her a look as if to say ‘that’s really not what I wanted to hear right now’, but Irene continues, “but I would also say we’re the coolest people I know; me, your dad, and you, of course.” At least at this, Lola’s expression softens, turning honest and a little forlorn.

“All the outfits I try for Saturday make me look like a dork,” she says quietly, “and my friends think KISS is gross.” She doesn’t intend for it to sound petulant, or whiny, though it comes across like that a little, but thankfully her mother can hear how genuinely sad this all makes her.

“Do you want to borrow something from me?” Irene asks, and Lola gives her a somewhat sceptical look that she’d been expecting; her daughter’s only ever known her as her mom, and as an accountant. Even now, she’s in a smart, black button-down and black slacks, knowing full-well that the dress code at Leo’s is quite casual. “I wasn’t always a grown up, you know,” Irene gives a faint grin, and Lola gives her the benefit of the doubt.

----

“Dad, stop- come on dude, be cool,” Lola insisted as she stepped out of her room on Saturday evening, wearing a band t-shirt of his that he’d leant her, her favourite black jeans with the rip in the knee, Doc Martins that had been a present for her last birthday, and the leather jacket from the back of her mom’s closet.

Leo was tearing up. Irene says his name very softly, her hand on his shoulder, but her expression is understanding. He’s really trying to keep it together, but his expression keeps scrunching up like he can’t quite help himself.

“Is that your jacket?” Leo’s voice is strained, looking to Irene.

“The one I wore to every concert we’ve ever gone to together,” Irene tells him, and Leo wraps her up in a hug, hiding his face from his daughter as to not appear as emotionally overwhelmed as he clearly was.

“I can’t believe we raised the coolest kid in the world,” Leo finally spoke, clearly crying with pride. Irene laughed softly from amid his embrace, and as much as Lola could act embarrassed, she herself was trying to act like she wasn’t getting emotional, “it’s her first concert and she’s already cooler than me.” Leo crowed.

“Dad,” Lola said, trying to sound embarrassed, like she thinks any other teenager would probably be, and not grateful, the way she actually feels, “you’re gonna have to redo your eyeliner.” But she can’t help herself, and joins her parents, if only to hide how emotional the moment was, in the way they wrap her up in a group hug.

And before they leave, Irene sets firm ground rules, to make sure neither of them goes too haywire; above all, Lola is never to leave Leo’s sight, she’s strict about this.

“And Lola,” Irene adds, taking a deep breath, “but if you end up meeting the band, if Bill wants to you and dad to say hi after, I know this seems silly, but please promise me something,” Lola frowns a little at her mother’s intensity, but nods as a prompt, “don’t touch them. Don’t let them touch you. Don’t shake their hands. Don’t leave your father’s side at all. Please,” and she looks to her husband, expression imploring, “Leo please, I know you think I’m overreacting, but please.”

“I promise,” Leo says, as serious as Lola’s ever heard her father, and Irene gives a grateful smile, and wishes them a wonderful night.

----

Lola doesn’t have to ask her father if he can see alright, even as she’s sitting on his shoulders; he towers over most of the crowd, and from this vantage point, Lola feels like the most powerful person in the world... Right before the opening act finishes, and KISS walks on stage.

They know all these songs too well, have been listening to them intently for months, and Lola and Leo belt the lyrics back like their lives depend on it. They mosh together when she climbs off his shoulders.

“Don’t you wanna push through to the stage?” He yells over the music; he’s ready to steamroll through the crowd if Lola asked, but she’s shaking her head, grinning from ear to ear.

“I’d rather hang out back here than for people to start throwing stuff at you because you’re blocking their view,” she points out, before adding, “don’t be weird, dad, I’m doing this for the greater good.” Leo raises his hands in mock surrender, grinning from ear to ear with pride. He doesn’t say that she’s considerate, he doesn’t argue that even if she were at the front of the crowd, he could still stand back and still have her in his sights, he just enjoys the moment, enjoys the fact that his daughter still likes his company.

“You’re a good kid, Keola,” he tells her seriously, as the song is winding down. Lola makes a face at that, but then grins and shouts;

“And whose fault is that?!” With amusement and love in her voice.

She’d had her angry, bitter moments, had cursed him and her mom and the diner and the work she had to do when her friends were out being hooligans, but he was grateful for moments like this, for moments when he knew that deep down, she loved him, and loved her family.

As the night comes to an end with three encore songs, and as everyone’s filing out in a messy stream, a pair of surly-looking security guards cut easily through the crowd to Lola and Leo, telling them that they need to come with them. Lola, terrified that they were going to get reprimanded for how she’d been sitting on her dad’s shoulders and probably blocking people’s view for a third of the show, is glued to her father’s side as he’s trying to make conversation with the now-silent security detail.

But then there’s Bill, former diner regular, current KISS manager, beaming from ear to ear, welcoming them backstage with open arms, wishing Lola a happy birthday, giving a joking apology that the tour was two months too late for her. Lola laughs with relief, and steps apart from her dad as she follows Bill through the theater’s winding corridors to the green room, but Leo’s still got a hand on her shoulder; she’s glad for the contact, not wanting to get lost.

“You sure we’re allowed to be back here,” there’s something strange in her dad’s tone, like he’s trying to imply something that goes over Lola’s head. Bill gives him a knowing, but reassuring look, as he tells Leo that it’s fine, and that the band will be on their best behaviour while they’re there. His gaze flicks to Lola for a moment; she’s confused, what, are they drunk or something? Even at sixteen, and as much of a wild child as her father was - and still kind of is - she’s naive.

Well, okay, the band are already drunk, but at least that seems to be the worst of it.

They’re still in their makeup, though it’s a little smeared, a little sweated-through, but they’re bright and friendly and forthcoming, and seem so grateful when Leo and Lola both babble their praises. Bill introduces them as old friends, as ‘Leo and his daughter, Lola’ with a strange emphasis on daughter that Lola doesn’t catch, but then the band, who’d been watching the two of them, watching Lola talk about how cool it was, how much she loves them, they look at Leo as if seeing him for the first time. He’s bigger even than the security guards, with his hand on Lola’s shoulder, standing close to her; the band are watching him like startled rabbits all of a sudden, and when Lola looks to her father, she sees him levelling a look of warning at the band. The moment he sees Lola looking, however, he grins down at her, and addresses the band.

“Listen, we’re absolutely stoked to get to meet you guys, you fuckin’ kick ass -”

“Kicked. Fucking. Ass!” Lola agrees as punctuation, and the tension in the room eases considerably as they all give a fond chuckle at her enthusiasm.

“You want a beer, man?” Ace Freehly asks, and Leo hesitates, looks to Bill, who nods, and then to Lola, who’s finally looking around the dressing room with wide-eyes.

“Just one,” Leo concedes, and Lola nervously asks if she can look around. She gets permission, and Leo sits on the arm of the sofa that Bill had taken up, asking the band what kind of music they listened to in their spare time.

Lola’s naive, but she’s not an idiot; she’s heard bands sing about how they loved girls who were seventeen, she’s heard gossip about celebrities with young girlfriends, hell, she’s at an age where her friends are talking about ‘fooling around’ and it actually means something. And she’d seen how the some of the band members had looked at her, the way she’d dressed up to fit in, maybe looking a little older than she was - she can hear her mother’s warning in her head, and knows why her father was acting protective. For all that the kids her age might think she’s being too safe, being too childish, her parents have never lead her astray; if they’re working this hard to keep her from the band, there was a good reason, and she’d trust them on that.

They leave in much better spirits than they’d arrived, the tension having defrosted between Leo and the band, but even so, as they’re saying they’re goodbyes, and shaking hands, someone offers Lola his hand, but she hears her mother’s voice and moves on instinct, taking a step back, a step closer to her father, though she’s beaming and waving and thanking them for getting the opportunity to meet them, and see them play, and Leo’s hand wordlessly comes to rest on her shoulder, even as he’s using the other to still shake hands. It’s an unspoken connection between them. An understanding for which Leo is so incredibly grateful.

She’s a good kid.

----

“I hear you’re gonna start helping mom with the finances,” Leo says, tone light as he approaches Lola, squirrelled away in the corner booth that’s unofficially hers, as she pores over her homework.

“All I said was that I was thinking of taking a few of the business subjects as electives,” she says, not looking up, sounding distracted, “and music.” She added, as if to put her father’s heart at ease.

“Business subjects?” Leo asks, sliding into the seat across from her. Lola’s holding her highlighter in her mouth, looking up from what looks like English notes. She nods. Leo is quiet, and folds his hands on the table and gives a look that he hopes is intrigued, or curious, or some sort of non-judgemental prompt for her to explain why.

“Mom’s like a calculator of a person; if you could win at doing taxes, you know mom would win taxes,” she says, sitting back and pulling the highlighter from her mouth to fidget with, “and the only reason you don’t have a Michelin Star is because the inspectors are classist, bitch-ass jagweeds who wouldn’t even make the detour that you’re worth -”

“Lola,” Leo admonished her phrasing with a slight frown, and her scowl deepens as she looks to her father.

“Mom said it first.”

“Your mom did not call the Michelin Star inspectors classist, bitch-ass jagweeds,” he countered with, and Lola huffed, knowing it was the truth.

“She called them classist,” she corrects herself, sinking further into the chair and into her terrible posture, “and the other stuff she said too, just not the bitch-ass jagweed stuff,” she concedes, before sighing, and almost out of view from how badly she’s slouching down in her seat across the table, “but I’m just... here, and sometimes I think about seeing if I could talk to Bill about being a musician because I’m kind of okay at piano and singing and that stuff, and I love music and I think it’d be cool to have a job in the music industry, but every time I think about getting a note wrong while someone’s watching me I feel really sick, and now every time I even think about playing in front of people I start feeling really sick, so I’m trying not to think about being a musician, but I keep having these little ideas for the diner and I think about how one-day I’ll be helping run it, and I don’t wanna do what you guys are doing here, so maybe doing not-finance-business-stuff could be my thing.” She’s laying side-ways on the seat of the booth by the end of her rant, hands beneath head, staring at the gum someone’s put there. When she’d finished her homework, she’ll grab the scraper. Oh god, what other teenager thinks like that? Mom was right, she is a dork... Okay, maybe she should have realised sooner, like when she developed a strong opinion on the Michelin Star inspectors.

“Two things,” Leo says, after a beat of silence; he’s still sitting perfectly still, and his voice is kind, “one; if you want to have a job in music, you don’t have to be on stage, you don’t have to have people looking at you if you don’t want,” and as he speaks, Lola slowly raises herself to a sitting position, “and two; what ideas do you have for the diner, kid? I’ve always said we need a designated ideas man, I think you’d be perfect for it.”

In the end, still helps Irene with the finances, though her mom somehow manages to make it interesting, and Lola will always fondly look back on the night she and her mother had taken a break from working on the coming month’s roster to drink milkshakes.

“You’re his favourite person in the world, Keola, he’d steal the moon if you asked,” Irene spoke fondly of her husband, “and of course you’re my favourite too, sweetheart, but I draw the line at using our entire life savings and mortgaging the diner to buy enough tomatoes to fill the diner -”

“But theoretically,” Lola was trying to hold back her laughter, “if we did, we’d have enough money that we could buy enough tomatoes to fill the diner.”

“You’re greatly underestimating the amount of tomatoes we’d need,” her mother chuckled.

“What if I got a great deal on tomatoes, since we’re buying them in bulk?”

“We’re not -”

“Theoretically!” Lola had crowed, which had dissolved into laughter, while her mother played up her annoyance with a sigh, though she was grinning from ear to ear. As the laughter dies out, and Lola finishes her milkshake, she looks over the draft of the roster, and hums. Irene, intrigued, hums in return, hums a question.

“You should put Parker on the weekend; give him the Friday and Saturday nights, and the Sunday lunch,” Lola muses.

“I thought you said he was annoying? Do you want him cooking out the back?” Irene leans forward, following her daughter’s gaze and frowning at the messy schedule.

“Fuck no -”

“Language.”

“He ignores dad’s ‘no idle talking in the kitchen during the rush’ rule, and when he’s serving when it’s not a rush he won’t shut up about WWE, but, he’s cheerful as hell and works well under pressure, which,” Lola takes the eraser from the table and scrubs off a name, before taking the pen from her mother and writing the same name elsewhere, “is why Candice should be taken off the rush on Saturday since she had a meltdown the last three times she was scheduled then. But she’s really good when it’s slow; she refills stuff, helps with prep, folds napkins into swans, and makes great conversation with customers.”

Irene marvels as her daughter talks through a schedule that would optimise each of the strange and wonderful employees they had, and realises something with startling clarity.

Irene knew how the numbers worked. Leo knew how the food worked. Lola knew how the people worked.

----

“Sweetheart, it’s your second-last Prom, wouldn’t you rather go than spend the night at work with your parents?” Irene asked; Prom night was always a slow one, even for a Friday. Lola gives her mother a strange little smile, tapping her fingers against the counter.

“I’m gonna leave it up to chance,” she said, which confused her mother, who was refilling a napkin despenser.

“Leave what - oh, Candice; I know you worked hard as her campaign manager, but she’d want you there with her, win or lose,” Lola’s parents had been confused but supportive when Lola announced that not only their server, Candice, get nominated for Prom Queen, but that Lola was going to be her campaign manager, despite the fact that Prom Queen nominees didn’t usually have a campaign manager.

Candice, who was flourishing with her new shifts, curtesy of Lola’s scheduling, was more than happy to agree, and the two became fast friends. Lola herself was blossoming with the new task, staying up, excitedly making posters, and writing speeches, and hoarding the phone for hours every night to talk to Candice, and the new friends she seemed to be making. It wasn’t that she was unpopular, it’s just that she was standoffish, quiet, and focused, and took pride in her work, which happened to be at her parents’ diner.

Between the campaign, being in charge of the rosters for the diner, the general work she did around the diner, and her school work, Lola’s life was pretty full, and she was surprisingly happy.

Leo had overheard when Candice had approached Lola after her shift, had pointed out how Lola had scheduled her to work on the night of the Prom, and how Lola had sworn before profusely apologising. Lola had offered to cover the shift, and been quick to reassure Candice that it was okay, that she didn’t need Lola at Prom, that she’d do great and be wonderful and that all the hard work was done; now she just needed to look pretty and win. Candice had wrapped her up in a hug, overflowing with gratitude, assuring Lola that she’d owe her one, and in turn, Lola had brushed her off, saying it was nothing, apologising again for the scheduling mistake.

At the time, Leo’s heart had swelled with love for his daughter, proud of her for sticking to her commitments, and for being so kind and reassuring. On the night of the Prom, he sees Lola looking a little giddy, almost a little nervous, and thinks she might just be worried about Candice. Then, when the diner is at it’s quietest, there’s noise outside, and Lola almost shrieks, much to her parents’ dismay.

“They’re here!”

Through the windows, the little family, and the few other employees see a hoard of well-dressed teenagers, some where crowns and sashes, making their way past the window, lead by Candice in a crown, beaming.

There’s chatter, as the other teenagers realise where they are, saying they love this place, some a little tipsy making grateful noises as they divide themselves into groups and fill over half the diner in an instant. There’s a booth where everyone’s wearing crowns, and Candice leaves them, assures them she’d be back, before she bolts to Lola, who’s practically bouncing with excitement. The girls squeal about how Candice won, and she’s adamant she couldn’t have done it without Lola. Of course, Lola humbly brushes it off, babbles about how proud she is.

It ends up as one of the busiest night they’ve had in months.

Perhaps she’d just wanted to help a friend, maybe she’d worked in some way to bring the Prom to her when she ended up not being able to go; mostly her parents think it’s a fluke.

Until the next year.

Until, amid college applications, scholarship applications, work, and homework, Lola sets her sights on campaigning for their new cashier, Abigail, her classmate.

Until it’s her last Prom, and again Lola’s had to swap shifts with the girl she was campaigning for.

Until her parents hear it again.

“They’re here!”

It’s deja vu, with Abigail in a crown, so overjoyed, and grateful, bring with her even more than had been there when Candice had won.

“Didn’t we come here last year? Fuck, man, this place is the fuckin’ best, we should do this every year!” A boy in a white tuxedo announces to a resounding cheer, and yes, he seems a little bit drunk, but Irene and Leo have paused in their food prep to see Lola turn and look directly at them, upon hearing these words, grinning from ear to ear like it was her plan all along.

Oh.

“We may have raised a super villain,” Leo muses, though he can’t stop himself from sounding a little proud as Lola turns back around to head back out and take more orders from students clamouring for food.

----

“I feel like we should sit you down and talk to you about... something, but I’m not quite sure what,” Leo says, wiping down the tables well past midnight, while Lola was cleaning the windows that somehow had grease stains on them. Irene, from where she was organising the till, where they had received so much so quickly that half the bills had been stuffed in haphazardly, chooses this moment to pipe up.

“Using people is wrong, Keola; Abigail and Candice are your friends, you shouldn’t be using them just to make yourself popular,” she reprimands, to which Leo makes a stern noise of agreement. Lola, however, pauses, sitting on the table.

“Ma, if anything, they’re using me; I’m the reason they both won Prom Queen. I wanted to see if business management was something I’d want to do, and it turns out; yes, and I’m good at it. My two-year plan paid off,” she said simply.

“Two year plan?” Irene asked, baffled, and Lola, two months shy of eighteen, crossed her legs and beckoned her parents over.

It takes some explaining, from the fact that when she realised she might want to do business, that she might want to do business managing, and that she’d been thinking about how Leo had told her she could do work without anyone else realising that it was because of her if she wanted to. So she gave herself a challenge; work with the people she knew, to eventually help the business she cared about, the diner. Of course, this asks more questions than it answers.

So Lola explains that she’d switched Candice onto the shifts she works best in to keep her happy, and spent time getting to know her and being kind and building her confidence until she could casually bring up the idea of Prom, and how Candice would kick ass as Prom Queen, and that she had a shot at it, and that Candice would believe her and follow through, and more importantly, let Lola be her campaign manager. Lola knew how people worked, knew what certain people needed to hear, who to interact with to create the most wave, how to market an individual.

“Also, the scheduling thing wasn’t an accident; Candy and Abby love their jobs, and love this place - which is really a testament to both of you - and love me and the fact that I won them Prom Queen; if I tell them I can’t go to Prom and they win, even if I told them I don’t mind not being there, they’d still kind of feel guilty, and I figured they’d want to come and, I dunno, thank me and show off the crown. They love it here and love you guys, like I said, and it’s something to be proud of,” Lola shrugs, wrinkling her nose a little as she looks at her hands, “but, yanno, one night on it’s own doesn’t make a tradition, so I rinsed and repeated with Abby. Now two years in a row, the Prom Queen has come from here, and after the Prom they’ve come here and had incredible food; the people becoming Juniors and Seniors, the top contenders for Prom Court, remember coming here and having a great time after Prom two years in a row. I’m kind of working towards it being a tradition, it was my two year plan; turn one of the slowest Fridays of the year into one of the busiest.”

“While I’m very grateful you were thinking of us,” Leo says slowly, trying to process all the information he’d just received, “you shouldn’t manipulate your entire high school -”

“Twice,” Irene softly reminded him.

“ - twice, just to help the family business.” Leo had his head in his hands.

“No-one was hurt,” Lola added, “and, bonus, I know there’s already a few kind of superstitious Sophomores who will be coming in and asking for job applications soon,” she paused, “not that we need the help, but raises the diner’s profile a little, don’t you think?”

“You know the diner’s doing fine, we’re not struggling, sweetheart,” Irene still sounded like she couldn’t quite believe all of this.

“I know,” Lola’s voice was quiet, and finally her parents looked at her, saw her looking at her hands where she was fiddling, quiet and pensive.

“Then why, Lola?” Leo asked, finally, and she shrugged, a little helpless, as if she hadn’t spent the past two years carefully manipulating her friends, colleges, and peers, simply to increase business at the diner for two nights, one year apart, hoping it would become tradition going forward.

“I wanted to see if I could.”

Looking at their daughter, Irene and Leo see themselves in how she came to be like this; Leo’s got more love in his body than almost any other human, he’s personable and kind and hard working, while Irene’s smart, driven, and ruthlessly pragmatic. Their differences complimented each other, it’s why they worked so well together in all aspects of their life, and to see how well those traits worked within their daughter, they were certainly proud, but Irene quietly suspects that Leo may have been right.

If Lola didn’t become one of the best managers in her field, she’d end up a super villain... Irene’s actually kind of proud, and honestly, so’s Leo.

----

Going to college for Business Management seems like the most logical thing in the world for Lola to do next, and of course her parents would be happy to pay any costs associated, but it’s still nice to discover she’d received a scholarship, thanks to the glowing reports from several of her teachers, whose subjects she made sure to do well in as they would look good when applying specifically to be a business major.

Leo’s the one who drives with her and her things to her new college housing in New York, to her dorm, who meets her roommate and dorm mother, who hugs her for a full minute in the carpark before he leaves. They’re both pretending like they don’t have tears in their eyes.

Lola’s babbling away, reminding him about how he should start advertising the Prom-related discounts for the diner three weeks before the Prom itself, how he should have his employees who are students put up posters around the school, or at least he should put up posters around the school, and the places where teenagers hang out. She’s reminding him which of their employees work best in different circumstances, and why Belinda can’t work with Judas for more than two hours and -

She’s crying, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hands as she talks, until Leo takes her shoulders firmly, and her voice dies in her throat as she comes back to reality.

“You’re going to be amazing,” he says softly, tears shining in his eyes. Lola’s lip quivers at this, and she surges forwards, wrapping him in another hug as she cries.

“You’re going to be amazing, we’re always just a phone call away, my sweet girl, but I know you’re going to take the world by storm,” Leo mutters into her hair, holding her tightly.

“Be good. Be kind. I love you,” he tells her as they finally step back from each other, and Lola wipes at her eyes again, quiet this time, nodding adamantly, before telling him she loves him too, that she’s so grateful for him, that -

“Come on, dude,” Leo says softly, with a gentle smile, “be cool.” And hearing the words that, for so long, had come to mean ‘I love you, I feel the same, but you need to be strong’, since Lola had first said it back when they’d first seen KISS together, has Lola laughing with fond adoration.

None of the other Freshman moving in, saying goodbye to their parents, appear to be half as emotional as she was, but honestly, she didn’t really care.

----

“Hey, question;” Lola’s voice is hesitant over the phone when Irene picks up one quiet evening in the diner at the end of Spring, at the end of Lola’s second year of college, “would you or dad know how to get in contact with that guy who manages KISS? The old regular? Bill?”

“Why?” Irene asked slowly, a little concerned given how much she and Leo had omitted when they talked about him to Lola when she was younger.

“I wanted to see if he needed an intern for the summer.”

It makes sense, but the prospect still makes Irene nervous.

----

“Leo I’m home~” Bill practically sings as he throws the door open to the diner on a bustling Monday afternoon. The server at the door skitters back in the face of his enthusiasm, and as a few mean-looking individuals slink into the diner behind him. Through them all, however, is Lola, who doesn’t even announce her presence, just slips past Bill, darting through the diner and through the kitchen, so by the time Leo’s looks their way, he’s already being bowled over with a hug.

It was a surprise, and Leo’s yelling he’s so excited. KISS is halfway through their tour, playing Providence the following two nights, but Lola and Bill had dragged the band along to surprise Leo while they were close.

Leo’s babbling away as Lola ties up her hair without even having to ask, stepping up beside him and falling into the routine of helping him prepare food. Bill and the band have taken up residence in a booth, chattering amongst themselves, while Lola and her father work and catch up.

“Wait, Lola, sweetie, go sit, go sit,” Leo insisted, catching himself before he lost sight of the whole situation, “I’m not paying you, go sit with the band; you’re customer -”

“Dad -” Lola tried to protest, but Leo was adamant, nudging her out of the kitchen with determination. As they pass the counter, Leo grabs a note book, and gives the confused server a kind smile, following Lola to the band.

“Vito, what do you recco...” Ace asks glancing up from the menu, but he trails off, seeing her father practically shadowing her.

“You guys remember Leo, right?” Bill looked like he was trying not to laugh as he shoved Peter further into the booth to make room for Lola. The others were all, for what seemed like the first moment on tour, silent. Then, Gene speaks.

“If you’re sick of our fuckin’ shit, Bill, murder us yourself, like a real man,” he says, voice gruff, and Lola has to fight not to smile in the face of her father’s bemusement.

“No-one’s getting murdered; Leo’s has the best food this side of the country, right, Vito?” Bill asks easily, looking to her, and she can feel her father’s questioning gaze on her too, so she looks to the others, smile blinding.

“I know I might seem biased, but I swear I’m not,” she fans her fingers out on the table, leaning forward, eyes shining with sudden enthusiasm, “I know you guys have a weird history with my dad, I wouldn’t bring you here if it wasn’t worth it.” She assures, and slowly but surely, the others look at the menu; her dad’s still watching her carefully, even as she’s sitting back, confidently telling the others that whatever they order would be good.

“Was it you or ‘rene who loved The Godfather?” Bill pipes up, addressing Leo, and Lola, in her seat, goes still.

“It’s ‘rene’s favourite movie,” Leo says with a slowly forming smile, as Lola chances a look up at him. When she sees the amused, even proud look in his eyes, she gives a small smile back.

“Is mom around?” Lola asks, gaze quickly darting to the counter and the kitchen, and then to the nondescript door that led to the second floor where she her family had lived all her life.

“At the grocery store, we ran out of whipping cream,” Leo explains, smile growing wider as he lets himself bask in the moment, “menu hasn’t changed much in the last few months, what are you hungry for, Vito?”

Of course Lola’s right about the food, of course, and the band chatters amongst themselves, and to Leo easily enough, though when Irene gets back, for all that she’s thrilled to see her daughter, she’s less than thrilled to see KISS being obnoxious in one of her booths.

Pulling Lola aside, she speaks quietly, glad to see her, demanding to know if the band treats her with respect, scowling when Lola casually rolls her eyes and says the band doesn’t treat anything with respect.

“But I still live by what you said the first time I saw them,” she added, and Irene frowned, “don’t let ‘em touch me, don’t shake their hands.” And Irene gives a faint smile at that. After a moment, Leo’s warm, booming laughter fills the restaurant, and both women turn to see him throwing his head back, eyes creasing in the corner as the rest of the band seem pleased to have made him laugh.

“They’re gonna give you and dad all access passes to their Wednesday show,” Lola says softly, watching the band, watching her dad sit in the seat she’d vacated.

“Oh, that’s so nice, but you didn’t have to -”

“I didn’t ask them to,” Lola tells her frankly, “they’ve been acting like my dad is some violent asshole whenever I bring him up because he was super protective when they met him the first time, even though they know I love him, so I brought them here, and knew dad was too kind of a person, and too good of a chef, to not win them over. They also definitely didn’t believe me when I said how good his food was, even when Bill backed me up. They’re not exactly introspective people, so when they offer the tickets, they won’t realise it’s because they feel guilty for making me upset whenever I bring up dad, but still, they’re trying to make up for it without realising what they’re doing; they think they’re just being kind to a new friend and a cool dude, without thinking about why giving these tickets feels better than it usually does. Friends are made, you guys get cool tickets, everybody wins,” Lola’s still watching the band joke around with her dad and Bill, and she lets herself smile a little, even as her mother is quietly watching her.

“They aren’t my friends this time, mom, this is business, and if they didn’t want to feel guilty for shittalking a good man, then they shouldn’t have shittalked a good man,” and though her mother says her name with a faintly disapproving tone, Lola’s lips thinned with annoyance, “if you disapproved of me doing this shit, you wouldn’t have told Bill about the Prom scheme I pulled in high school.”

Then Irene says her name again, like an apology, like regret, like she was aware of her betrayal.

“On the plus side,” Lola took a deep breath, grinning and finally looking to her mother, “I’ve already kind of got a reputation; Bill called me Vito the first day I came in, which is how I figured out you’d told him, and someone misheard and thought it was my name. It stuck.”

“They’re calling you Vito?” Her mother said softly, earlier disapproval vanishing with soft glee, “for the record, I said that while I don’t condone some of what you did, I admired your tenacity, perseverance, and finely tuned social awareness.” Okay, that made sense, and something warmed in Lola’s heart hearing that.

“Well thanks to that, I think they’re implying that I’m The Godfather,” Lola snorts, looking back at the table, “well, Bill was, the others don’t actually believe it, but they still use the nickname.”

“You don’t want them to know that that’s... your goal, do you?” Irene said, wrapping an arm around Lola’s shoulders. Lola rests her head against her mother’s.

“I’ll only use my powers for good... usually.”

“I know, sweet girl, you’ve got a good heart.”

----

“I’ve got my own desk! I’ve got my own office!” Lola’s all but squealing over the phone to her parents, explaining about how she’d been offered a job with Bill’s company as a PR consultant while she insisted on staying in New York and finishing her degree.

She’s living with her music-producer boyfriend, spending every other weekend at industry events, spending nights in dingy bars that boasted live music as if she were scouting talent, attempting to study during the day while putting out various bands’ fires from afar.

“That’s wonderful, Lola,” her dad gives a contented little sigh where he and Irene are pressed together, both trying to listen to her speak.

“You’re still studying hard though, aren’t you? I’m glad you’re doing well but you know you’d regret it if you didn’t finish your course so close to the end,” Irene pointed out, and Lola assures her that she’s still going ahead strong, that the company gives her half-days when she has lectures to attend, and she sounds... fulfilled.

They’re still calling her Vito; she’s garnered herself something of a reputation in the months leading up to her graduation, and anticipated full-time employment with the company. People from all sides are urging her to move out to LA, but she’s refusing to budge until she graduates, and for that her parents are proud.

Back home, there’s been a strange influx of out-of-town patrons to the diner, music fans, or bands, or part of the industry, usually New York based, saying that Lola had recommended this place, if they were ever in the area. It was heart-warming to think she still thought of her parents so often that she’d still go about recommending their diner. They don’t think much beyond it; she’d been true to her word and only seemed to be using her way with people in professional matters.

But still, it was jarring hearing ‘the Godfather sent me’ when chatting with customers, even moreso to know they meant Lola every time.

----

“One of Bill’s friends in LA called me up about a job,” Lola’s fretting in her parent’s diner for the first time in a long time. A year out of college, she’s been on the road essentially since graduation, working as an assistant manager, for Bill for some time, then for Kenny Laguna with Joan Jett & The Blackhearts, and a few smaller bands around New York as a manager in her own right, though by virtue of her role as an assistant, she’d been working with everyone in the industry that he usually had dealings with, setting up meetings, organising schedules for the band, setting everything up so all her bosses had to do was sign off and only worry about the bands themselves.

Lola had her fair share of flings in that time, but it was hard when she was always travelling, and even with the people who she seemed somewhat serious about, she never brought them home to meet her family. Her parents tried to reason that she was just young, that if she wanted to find love, she’d find it in time, but thankfully she seemed more concerned with her career than ever dwelling on heartbreak.

“That’s exciting; would we know the band?” Irene asked, printing off a receipt for a customer and wishing them a good day. The customer smiled back, and went on their way, and Irene joined her daughter, stealing one of Lola’s fries.

“Not really, they’re a little metal, kinda punk band, Motley Crue, but Doc - that’s Bill’s friend - he thinks they have potential, and he thinks I’d be the right person to help him, and help them.”

“As an assistant?” Irene asked, frown creasing her brow, and Lola makes a face.

“As co-manager,” she said, clearly in two minds about the situation.

“Co-manager?” Her mother prompted, and Lola wrinkled her nose for a moment, taking a sip of her drink.

“I’ve been on tour, all over America, right? But I’ve never...” she hesitates, “actually ever lived more than two hours away from you guys.” Lola fidgeted, “which I know is a dumb reason to not move, I’m an adult, and everyone’s pushing me to move to LA, so even if it falls through I’ll probably still get work, but -”

“Sweet girl, you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, you don’t have to explain yourself, not to me, not to anyone,” her mother says, reaching out to rest a hand on Lola’s cheek. For just a moment, Lola leans into her mother’s hand, taking the familiar comfort and basking in it, letting out a gentle sigh.

“They’re flying me out in two days to meet the band, and I can decide where to go from there,” she says softly, and Irene gives her a fond pet, assuring her that nothing is set in stone.

----

“Do you remember when I did that thing in high school, that whole thing with those girls, Abigail and... Candice? I think? How I managed them and got them voted Prom Queen?”

“Lola I love you with my whole heart, but sweet girl, you had a whole supervillain monologue prepared that night, so yes, I remember,” Leo says to his daughter, the two of them in the kitchen of the diner the night before Lola’s set to leave for LA. They’ve closed up for the night, and Irene went upstairs to their little home above the diner to relax for the night while Lola stayed, and Leo refilled the salt shakers. The corner of Lola’s lips quirk into a faint smile where she’s leaning her hip against the counter a few feet away.

“I still can’t believe no-one caught on; only you and mom had any idea, or even still know,” Lola admitted with a faint laugh, and Leo assures her that he’ll take that secret to his grave, his tone amused at how he was overstating the importance of the secret. Lola considers for a moment, shifting her weight on her feet before asking, “do you remember, even before that, saying about how I understood people the way you understood flavours, the way mom understood numbers?”

“Vaguely,” Leo’s voice was concentrated as he reflected on his daughter’s teen years in the diner. Lola made a faint hum at that.

“Do you think there’s ever going to be anyone other than you and mom who understands me?”

It hits Leo like a truck, the tone, the rawness to her voice, the way so much had suddenly clicked into place with understanding.

Lola was who she was because she was listened to, because Leo and Irene had worked to make sure she felt understood, showing by example as they befriended their customers, the people around them too, to build a kind, family atmosphere in their business too. So too did Lola, going through life listening to people, getting to know them, understanding them, understanding more and more as she went that while people loved feeling understood, feeling seen, they very rarely put in the effort to understand others in such a way, even people who were putting the effort into them.

“Oh Keola,” Leo’s voice comes out an apologetic breath as he puts down the salt shaker he’d been working with, and at that, he can see the tears spring up in Lola’s eyes. Without hesitation, he’s crossing to her, wrapping her up in a firm hug, “you will find someone who sees you, Keola, who understands you, and maybe they won’t understand the world as well as you do, but it won’t matter, because they’ll understand you.”

Lola, who’s hugging him back tightly, fingers digging into him as she’s shaking, crying, scared to leave, scared to be truly on her own. It’s breaking Leo’s heart to see her like this, to not know what to say or how to comfort her in the right way, so he holds his daughter close, and reassures her, and she gives a quiet thanks, muffled against his shirt.

----

“They live like horrible, little, drunk rats and I hate them,” Lola tells her mother flatly over the phone from the hotel Doc McGhee’s company had put her up in for the week.

Doc she liked well enough, she’d been to events with him, gotten to know him, and spoken extensively to him after he’d called her to ask if she’d co-manage Motley Crue with him; he’d called her up because the band had talent and potential, but he could see that if they weren’t managed properly, they would end up as their own worst enemy, with the whole world loathing them. Some controversy was healthy, but it felt as though this band could be capable of worse.

He’d called asking for Vito, for the Godfather specifically, and despite Lola’s apparent lack of experience in the industry, he knew what he was doing when he called her.

The day after she’d flown out, she’d had a meeting with Doc before he’d brought the band in. She’d worn all black, well fitted and perfectly tailored suit, with black shirt to match, hair perfectly straight and makeup dark but clean. She’d looked the part, had stood beside Doc as the band was brought in, her hands clasped behind her back, not sure what she was expecting to see. The band had been dressed down for the most-part, all in varying dark colours, all denim and hints of leather, and boots that made them a little too tall for her liking. She’d held out her hand across the desk, expression stony, and as they’d all shook her hands, they’d looked her over, and while some were leering, one, who looked to be the oldest of the group, Mick, seemed unimpressed.

“That’s a child,” he had said, and Lola had blinked slowly at him, allowing Doc to make the introductions.

“That is Vito Fields;” Doc corrects, tone firm, and Mick, upon hearing this, looks to her very suddenly. Lola raises a single eyebrow at him as Doc keeps talking, “she’s worked with KISS and Joan Jett; anyone in this industry who knows of Vito knows you want her in your corner, you boys are lucky she’s considering working with you.”

“She seems like a bitch,” the one in the middle, Nikki, pipes up, his pupils wide and shiny, a dead giveaway that he’s high, and he’s smirking at her like he’s waiting for a reaction.

“I am a bitch,” Lola tells him flatly, looking him dead in the eyes, while the younger two on his other side, one dark haired, Tommy, and one blonde, Vince, startled by her response, break out into giggles.

“You’re Magic Touch Vito?” Mick asks, voice having taken on a strange quality she couldn’t quite identify, though her lips quirk into the barest smile, even as the other three clutch at each other, trying to muffle their laughs at their own dirty-minded implications.

“The very same,” Lola gave a slight nod, and suddenly, there was something impressed in Mick’s eyes. After touring with them, KISS had kindly written a song entitled Magic Touch, about Lola, which as the line ‘she's got the magic touch / oh no, but it ain't what it seems’ implied, wasn’t sexual in nature. In actual fact, it was about how they hadn’t realised how much she’d worked to make their lives run smoothly, to keep them from any serious controversy, how they’d seemingly worked more cohesively and agreeably when she had been around, until she was gone. When asked who it was about, the band would always answer ‘the chick from our management team last tour, Vito’.

They don’t quite know what to make of her, think she’s too uptight, too serious, and they invite her to their gig the following night, in an attempt to see if she could loosen up, fit in, and Lola accepts easily, knowing she has Mick on her side, and that the other three should be easy enough to win over, if what she knows of them is correct.

So she dresses up for the show, clothes tight and dark and revealing, boots high and hair higher, makeup dark and smoky and eye catching; if nothing else, she looks the part. She sits by the bar, nurses a single beer all night, and at least Doc wasn’t kidding about their talent; small miracles, she supposes. They’re loud and energetic and everything about rock and roll that she has come to love, but once the gig is over, they’re messy, spilling off the stage after their gear is packed up, easily distracted by pretty girls and promises of booze. Mick is the first to the bar, and seems surprised to see her dressed the way she is, fitting in so easily, and she gives him a smile, a nod, a raised glass of appreciation, before someone stumbles from the crowd and almost runs straight into her, bracing themselves on the bar either side of her, sweaty and panting and grinning and babbling apologies - Tommy, if her memory serves her well.

“Hey, Doc was right, you guys play well,” she tells him amicably, tone much sweeter and more animated than he’d heard yesterday, so it takes him a few moments to place where he knows her from before it dawns on him. And he’s drunk and tactile, his hands on her arms, her thighs, her face, as if making sure she was real, and she was the same girl from yesterday.

“Vito?” Tommy asks, still only inches from her where he’d almost bowled into her. Lola, seemingly unphased by the proximity, smile and confirms as much, her hand coming to rest on his where he was braced against her thigh, gentle contact, nothing more.

And he’s telling her she’d gotta come back to the after party, at the Motley House as he called it, and he turned, wanting to call the others over, still with his hand on her thigh, but they’re lost in their own various states of debauchery. Lola buys him a few shots for good measure, which he’s grateful for, and lets him loop his arm around her shoulders as they head back to the Motley House with the crowd.

Another pretty girl, however, calls Tommy away with promises Lola definitely won’t make, so he goes, and Lola follows the crowd back to the house with the door nailed shut. Her fishnets catch on something as she’s climbing through the window and they rip, and a guy hoots appreciate from inside the house, but she’s not bothered by him as much as she is by the house itself as she takes in the scene.

“No shame in admitting you can’t hack it,” a voice in her ear mutters, accompanied by a hand on her hip, and for a moment Lola’s composure breaks as she’s startled, turning sharply to see Nikki Sixx, standing over her in his platform boots and stupidly tall hair, wearing a grin that’s all teeth. Lola doesn’t know enough about Nikki to read him, to understand him, apart from the fact that she recognises that he’d putting up something of a front, and had been both times he’d spoken to her.

“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” tone cool as she finds herself quoting Star Wars with a smirk, she looks Nikki in the eyes, and is glad to see the momentary flicker of confusion as she refuses to back down despite his goading. Then, she looks over her shoulder, “you live like rats, but that’s not necessarily a complaint since it fits with your brand.” And he doesn’t seem to know if that’s a compliment or an insult, but he’s left bemused by the encounter, as Lola heads through to the kitchen, avoiding making eye contact with Vince who’s getting head from a groupie on the counter, as she takes a beer from their fridge and goes to mill about in the main room.

Lola’s never been much of a drinker; Irene’s been sober since she was pregnant with Lola, and Leo only ever drank socially outside of work, and he didn’t exactly have a lot of social encounters outside of work to begin with. Lola herself was never particularly discouraged from drinking as long as she took care of herself, and sure she had some wild nights in college, but despite her field of work, she preferred to keep drinking to a minimum. Drinking dulled her senses, and she didn’t want the people she was working with to see her as anything less than what she wanted to show them.

She’d be the first to admit that she had issues with control, both of herself and other people, but it was yet to detrimentally effect her life, or the people around her, so she found it to be more of a strength than a flaw, at least for now.

All through the night she found herself talking to fans and groupies, talking up the band, the boys, putting on a bubbly persona, perhaps overplaying her own inebriation after only two drinks, giggling and making a spot for herself amongst their groupies. She declined the drugs as they were passed around, keeping her mind clear as she was able, while not being a buzzkill, pouting and making up excuses about a drug test at her work the next morning, how she’d only just gotten the coke out of her system and she couldn’t fail another one -

Everyone was so understanding of her fake sob story, she almost misses Mick, sitting a few feet away on the arm of the sofa, laughing to himself, watching her.

“You’re good, girlie, you’re good,” he gives her when she approaches, and Lola raises an eyebrow at him, still smiling, “you planning on outright fuckin’ our frontman, or you gonna tease him like you did the drummer?”

“If I have to fuck him, I’ll fuck him,” Lola shrugs with a smirk, joining him and looking out at the gathered crowd, “but I don’t think it’ll come to that.”

So the next day when she calls her mother, tells her mother that the band lives like rats and that she hates them, she immediately follows it up with ‘but I think I’m going to stay’.

----

Be sweet to Tommy. Be honest with Mick. Keep Vince’s revolving door of girlfriends from seeing him hook up with groupies. That’s the trick to keeping three quarters of the band happy.

Nikki changes from moment to moment it seems. He’s a hard worker musically, but a loose canon in the rest of his life, and he never seems to be sure of what to make of Lola, so she can never be sure of what to make of him.

She still lives loosely by her mother’s suggestion, to never let them touch her, which means she’s never done anything more than let the three younger ones cop a feel occasionally, or kiss them on the cheek, but she’s never let them get further than that, she doesn’t need to. She’s kind to them, good to them, she compliments their music and their work ethic when they’re working particularly hard. She remembers the names of the hookers they like when Zutaut brings them in, and she gets on well with the rest of their team. Their scandals are kept out of the papers, and when they release Too Fast For Love there’s buzz in the industry from the moment it drops.

“I know a guy,” is all Lola says when they ask, when in reality she spends nights that she’s not with the band going to VIP events for music executives, rubbing elbows and kissing ass and casually talking up the band within earshot of the bigwigs. Her free time in the day is spent reading tabloids and listening to the bands being managed by the people she meets, and making friends with club owners up and down The Strip who she’d met before, through KISS or Joan Jett.

“Sweet baby Vito,” Doug Weston kissed Lola on both cheeks as she walked through the doors of the Troubadour one sunny afternoon, the day the band was set to perform, “it’s been too long; have you gotten taller?” Doug smiles from ear to ear, holding her shoulders and looking her over as the band, behind her, seems bemused, “how are my boys, Bill and Kenny? You hear from them much anymore?”

“Dad tells me Bill is good -” Lola assures with a smile, before looking over her shoulder, “boys if you wanna start setting up you can go ahead, right Doug?” She grins at the club owner, who nods, gesturing to the stage for Motley and their roadie to go ahead as he takes Lola and leads her to the bar.

Lola seems to have an encyclopaedic knowledge of the bands who have come through the Troubadour before they’d made it big, praising Doug on his foresight, assuring him that Motley would be one of the names on that list he helped grow in popularity. He asks her how she knows so much, how she remembers so well; simply put, Lola tells him it’s her job.

For a moment, Doug is quiet, looking at her, his eyes searching her face for any hint of insincerity or doubt, and upon finding none, he gives a strange little smile.

“You know what they say about me, little Vito, don’t you?”

Lola hesitates, because of course she knows, and him so pointedly using her nickname only makes clearer his meaning.

“You’re essentially the Godfather around here, Doug, I know that, I wasn’t trying to -”

“You’re putting the work in; I’ve heard your name time and again now from my friends and colleagues, you’re working with one band but the whole Strip knows you, kiddo,” he’s giving her a fond, perhaps even impressed look, “little Vito, you’re so young, but I can already see you growing into your title.”

And pride swells in Lola’s chest as she hears this.

A week later, a tabloid article will be released with an article on Motley Crue’s quick rise in sucess, with a quote from Doug himself.

“How could I say no to having them play here? Those boys have got more talent in one hand than any do in their whole bodies, not to mention they’ve got Doc and The Godfather behind them; mark my words there’s success on their horizon.”

“Lola!” Leo had shouted excitedly through the phone the moment she’d picked up, and Lola had laughed nervously, unsure of the exactly reason for his call. Leo had babbled about seeing the article, how he’d pinned it up on the wall of the diner, right next to the photos of KISS, and Joan Jett that had been taken when they’d visited. He goes on in delight about how he and Irene were so proud; Lola couldn’t help but tear up.

“Doug Weston called you The Godfather, Lola!”

“I know, dad,” Lola had laughed a little, and Leo had whistled through his teeth, low and proud.

“What did I tell you, kiddo, already taking the world by storm.”

----

“You know how I was... I was like having trouble with Nikki? Like I could figure him out?” Lola brings up over the phone to her father, a few month into being in LA.

“Nikki’s the asshole one?”

“The asshole one, the one you’d like,” Lola clarifies and confirms, and Leo makes an understanding noise in the back of his throat, “I think... I think I’ve figured him out, I think I got him.”

“How so?”

“He, um,” Lola hesitates for a moment, shifting a little where she was sitting on her bed, “he’s actually kind of like me, which I think tripped me up, not like, as refined or anything, or as invested in people, but,” she can’t help but softly smile, “he just wants to be seen, you know, as a musician, as himself, except that things have been shitty for him so he’s actually scared to feel seen, you know?”

“So are you going to make him feel seen, or would that scare him?” Leo asks, and Lola tells him that she’s going to be careful, like she’s always been.

She’s already started; a few days before, she’d turned up to the studio only for a beleaguered assistant to nervously warn her that Nikki had been in there all night, drinking, snorting, and writing music frantically.

“Sixx?” Her voice had been quiet, and he’d looked up with wild, tired eyes, levelling a pen at her through the glass into the sound booth where she’d entered.

“You!”

“Me?” She gave a slight smile, despite how there was paper and broken glass everywhere, and one of his hands was bleeding.

“You!” He’d reiterated with a scowl, though Lola kept her approach slow, opening the door to the recording studio, carefully picking her way over to him, while he continued to point at her.

“What are you writing?” She asks carefully, and finally he looks down, to the page with it’s bloody fingerprints, and messy scribblings.

“What do you want from me?” He asked, and she’s wondering if he’s talking to the page before he looks back at her, confused and hostile as he regards her. Lola’s expression falls.

“Right now? I want you to come to the bathroom so I can clean you up and get you some medical attention -”

“You want something you always want something, you know too much about everyone we meet, everywhere we play, every photographer who shoots us, every writer who writes about us, every interviewer we speak to,” he sounds half-mad, but Lola’s blood has run cold, “it’s like the more you know about everyone, about us, you can predict us, can plan for if we go rogue, how you can lasso us back in line like we’re your cattle; you’re The Godfather but you never explained to us what that means.”

Lola swallows hard, steeling herself for a moment before she looks Nikki in the eyes.

“What do you want from music?” She’s dropped the kindly voice, “you understand it, you understand how to make it sound good, how to make something people will like and want to listen to, and you know what to do to keep it from being a disaster because you know the note before, and what notes should go after,” she explained, and in the face of her cool composure, Nikki’s hostility was actually... disappearing. “To me, people are their own kind of music when organised well enough, when I know where they’ve been, so I know how to keep them out of disaster, which topics not to talk about, to know what’s worked to bring things to their attention in the past, so I can use those for you guys in the future.”

Nikki is quiet, looking up at where she’s standing over him, and then at the paper in his hands.

“You’re organising us to... to what?”

“To optimise productivity,” Lola said bluntly, “which is hard, considering who you all are, but I’m glad Doc called me in. I feed your egos in the way you all respond to best, and keep you all from self destructing, and I pull you assholes from the gutter, and you get a successful album. I’m not hurting anyone, it’s my job to make you successful.”

She’s got her hands behind her back to hide how they’re shaking; she’s never been so bluntly honest with anyone since she’d explained her Prom Plan to her parents years ago.

“You won’t remember this,” she tells him, and he looks sharply at her, though she’s saying it more for her own peace of mind than for him. She offers her hand to him, and he quietly takes it, lets her take him to the bathroom and clean him up. She calls the Motley House, and Mick, and Doc, and lets them know that Nikki wouldn’t be in today, and she takes him back to her little apartment a few blocks from the Strip.

“This is tiny,” Nikki comments, his first since Lola’s monologue about her true intentions.

“I’m frugal,” Lola responded, flatly, showing him through to her bathroom, advising him to shower or bathe, though he made a face at that.

“Why am I here?”

“Because I have actual toilet paper and I didn’t want your hands to contract sepsis,” she responds with irritation, but soon enough, as she’s reading through the stack of tabloids that she has delivered daily, she hears the shower being turned on.

After an hour, she realises something may be wrong, as she hasn’t heard him moving about in there for a while, and when she knocks there’s no answer, and cracking the door reveals that he’s fallen asleep sitting at the bottom of her shower. Sighing deeply, Lola turns off the water, tries to wake him, and gets a sleepy, groaned response, which at the very least means she doesn’t need to call a paramedic. So she dries him off, and wraps him up in her bathrobe, and deposits him in her bed, while she listens to the radio and takes notes while reading the tabloids.

“Vito?” Nikki’s bleary voice greets her around sunset, and Lola, who’d been painting her nails and humming along to a cassette of the latest Queen album, looks up sharply at him. When their gazes meet, he regards her curiously before yawning, “I remember, you know?”

“Remember what?”

“What you said, how you use people because they’re like music,” he says, and grimaces when he tries to use his hands, only to see they’re bandaged. When he asks for a drink, Lola has to tell him she has nothing in the apartment, and he calls her a bitch under his breath, but that was to be expected.

“I don’t use people for fun, I... I...”

“There’s no sweet way to say it, is there?” He sits up with a groan, though he still manages to smirk, and Lola’s expression sours.

“Are you mad at me for manipulating people in the industry to make Motley Crue successful?” Her lip curled, tone derisive as an insult sat on the tip of her tongue, but Nikki paused.

“Are you trying to manipulate me by saying that?”

“What? No!” Lola had insisted, “everyone else thinks I’m the version of me that I want them to know, okay? But you... you’re the only motherfucker who knows I’m all of them at once, and also, well, none of them,” she admitted after a moment.

“Well how does me knowing that help you?”

“It doesn’t, okay?! I can’t figure you out, Nikki, I don’t know how the fuck to -”

“How the fuck to control me,” Nikki said, seemingly proud of that achievement.

“I don’t control you dumbasses, I keep you out of jail; if I wanted to control you, I’d try keeping you from hookers and drugs and falling asleep in gutters, I’d make you presentable for a mass-market audience, but none of you want that, so I’m trying to keep you alive and keep you productive while still being yourselves, get it?”

“You really want Motley to do well?” Nikki asks, tentatively, surprising Lola, who had her head in her hands.

“You fuckin’ dickbags have so much talent and absolutely no ability to function as human beings. Yes I want you to do well, I know you can, and I know you will, but dude, if you all go out in a firey ball of carnage, they’re not gonna blame you guys, because you’re the talent, live fast die young is what talent does, and they’re not gonna blame Doc,” her voice catches in her throat, and Nikki realises she’s on the verge of tears, “they’re gonna blame the twenty-three year old girl who everyone in the industry knows, and is calling The Godfather, who has a reputation despite only doing this shit for a few years -”

“Vito -”

“My name’s Lola!” She’d snapped, and Nikki had gone quiet. “You’re a talented musician, Nikki,” her voice had gone soft, and she gently thumped her forehead on the table, “you’re all talented men, I’m just doing the only thing I can do to get you the success you deserve, okay? I made a promise to never manipulate people for evil, and I don’t break my promises.”

After a long silence, Nikki finally spoke up, saying her name, her real name.

“Lola, thanks for taking care of me.”

----

“So this is Motley Crue,” Leo says the day Lola walks into the diner with the band and Doc, and Leo’s trying to reign in his instinct to be excited and proud and loud, trying to act discerning from behind the counter... Right as their Too Fast For Love album begins playing over the jukebox. The band seems confused, Lola hangs her head, and Leo’s lips immediately twist into an overjoyed grin, “that wasn’t planned but I love it!” He delights, and goes over to greet the band, giving each member a hearty handshake, managing to name each and every single one of them before they introduce themselves, which only serves to mortify Lola.

“You talk about us?” Tommy teases, while Lola’s standing by her father, face bright red.

“Drummer Boy, you’re killing me,” Lola groans, but takes her seat beside Nikki, and he throws an arm around her.

“Don’t worry, Leo, we’re taking care of her,” and he gives Lola’s shoulder a squeeze.

The thing is, Leo knows he can believe Nikki, knows because after a year, Lola’s told her parents practically everything about the band, every terrible, sordid detail, but also about their talent, and how they can be good people when they want to be. Leo and Irene have hear the change in the way Lola spoke about the band, heard Lola marvel at the way the band seemed to grow more protective of her after her breakdown in front of Nikki, how they defend her when they’re in their right mind, and at least attempt to listen to her some of the time. They’re still themselves, still far from perfect, but it’s become a known fact that The Godfather had the might of Motley Crue behind her now.

Mick and Leo got along well, of course Leo got along with all the band well, but he and Mick’s taste in music aligned, and there was a certain wisdom to the pair of them that eluded the others.

And when Lola hands tickets to the band’s show the following night to her mother, she assured her that it wasn’t their idea, it was all Lola’s. Irene wraps her in a tight hug, pride in her eyes, before she looks over at the band, louging in a booth like they own it while the diner was meant to have closed twenty minutes ago, and Leo’s still talking to them. It’s empty apart from the band, and Lola’s about to start washing up so her dad can keep getting to know the band, but her mother speaks quietly.

“They’re good boys,” she muses, and Lola snorts.

“They’re garbage boys, ma, pretty terrible, you know they fucked an eggroll so their girlfriends couldn’t tell they slept with other girls?”

“Oh I know they’re terrible - eggroll, really? -” Irene made a momentarily horrified face as Lola confirmed, but as a shiver of disgust passed down Irene’s spine, she continued, “but they’re good to you.”

And looking at them, Lola sees the band and Doc smiling and laughing and chatting with her dad, picking at the crumbs they had left of the food they’d been served, and for a moment, Nikki looks over and catches her gaze. He raises an eyebrow at her, a silent question; Lola gives the barest nod back, and he turns back to the conversation.

“They’re pretty good to me when they want to be,” Lola agreed.

----

“Lo, we wanted to run this past you first,” immediately hearing these words from her father, Lola’s stomach drops, “but you remember your Aunt Malia who lives back in Hawaii, right?” And as Lola confirmed as much, Leo went on, “her youngest, Kai, is going to come and live at the diner; he’s about your age and Malia says he’s wanted to be a chef for a long time. I thought he could come work with us, or maybe stay here if he wanted to study in the states.”

“Why do you need to run it past me?” Lola asked, voice quiet, though her heart eased considerably; the news had been much less dire than she had been anticipating.

“He’s going to be sleeping in your old room is all, I know you’ve moved everything out, but I didn’t want you to be surprised if you dropped in; when you stop by, we’ve converted the old study into a spare bedroom.”

“Okay,” Lola wasn’t quite sure why the news hurt so much, but it did, though she tried not to let her father hear as much, “as long as he does a good job, that’s all we can ask for, right?” And Leo seemed happy to hear as much.

But it had sent Lola spiralling; all her life she’d thought she’d end up running the diner when she got old enough, but now she was getting to be old enough, and living a completely different life.

“Would it make you happy?” When had coming to Nikki Sixx for life advice become a real option? They’re sitting in a round booth at a bar, both dressed casually, sitting side by side, probably closer than was necessary, though Lola liked the contact.

“Yes,” she admitted, “if I went home and ran the diner with mom and dad for the rest of my life, I’d honestly be happy.” She admitted.

“And us, the industry, everything you’ve been working for, you’d give it all up for them?” He asked, and Lola picked at the label on her beer bottle, stomach twisting with guilt.

“If they asked,” came her answer.

“Did they ask?”

Lola swallows hard, and realises with startling clarity that Nikki knows where her train of thought is headed.

“Does the life you have here make you happy?” He asks, tone demanding an honest answer, and Lola nods once, before his final question hits her squarely in the chest; “would they want you to give up this happiness you’ve built, the experiences you’re still yet to have, for them?”

He understands her.

“And if I asked, would you stay here and manage us?”

“What?” Lola’s voice came out soft and surprised as she looked to Nikki, her eyes wide, and a little misty with all the emotions and thoughts blurring together in her mind.

“If I get any sort of say or vote in this, I’d like to keep The Godfather on my team,” he muses, grin getting a little wider, tone a little more honest, “‘d like to keep you around, Lola.”

----

Kai vaults the counter the first time Lola walks into the diner after he arrives. It’s been a few months, Lola’s been overseas with the band, but she’s back, and had wanted to stop in home to see how he was going. They’d spoken often; he’s as kind and outgoing as her father, and seems just as enthusiastic about food, which is good. At first there had been jealousy, that he was there, while she couldn’t be, but her parents always assured her there was a place for her if she wanted it, if she wanted to come back.

But Nikki had been right, they wanted her to see the world, so long as she knew they’d always be there for her to come home to.

But it’s Summer, Saturday afternoon, and Kai looks up as the bell rings, spots Lola, and drops the napkin dispenser he’d been refilling, vaulting the counter to sweep her off her feet in a hug. He’s chattering away about how good it is to meet her, how people keep saying the Godfather sent them and how it’s weird knowing they mean her, about how a few more bands had come through, without Lola even, word of mouth having spread that this was the place to come to in Boston, and he gestures proudly to the wall of photographs, and how more had been added; Areosmith, the Pixies, Blondie.

“And you! You’re -” suddenly spotting the person who’d come in behind Lola, Kai’s eyes go wide and his words stop for a moment.

“Nikki Sixx, man, good to meet you,” Nikki grins brightly, “Kai, right?” And Kai nods, before blinking away his shock and nodding, shaking Nikki’s hand vigerously.

“Good to meet you, dude, lemme go get Aunty; Leo’s at the markets,” he says, and then he trots off, calling out to the kitchen staff where he was headed. The moment he’s disappeared up the stairs to the flat above, Lola leans into Nikki, huffing a laugh.

“God, he fits right in,” she muses fondly, and Nikki wraps an arm around her, himself trying to process Kai’s enthusiasm.

And Irene greets Nikki and Lola with warmth and excitement, the three of them sitting in a booth together while Kai goes through any changes to the menu, lighting up when Lola asks what he recommends. Nikki and Lola sit close as they chatter away, recounting stories to Irene about their travels, words flowing together like they were rehearsed; as Lola’s overcome with a fit of giggles recounting one of Nikki and Tommy’s stunts, Nikki wraps his arm around her, pulling her close as he seamlessly takes over the story, grinning from ear to ear. As Lola’s giggles subside, she looks back to her mother, and Nikki’s voice goes quiet as Lola takes back over telling the story, instinctually in sync, and oh, Irene realises fondly, they understand each other. Despite everything she’s heard about the band, about Nikki, she’s filled with an indescribably sense of calm knowing Nikki made Lola this happy, made her feel understood. She’d be here if he broke Lola’s heart, but until then, she’d be happy for them.

“Lola!” It’s Leo’s voice that interupts them, and instinctively Irene reminds him that he’s holding eggs, without even needing to look at him. When they all do, they see Kai handing Leo an empty, plastic fries basket for him to drop in surprise instead, and he does so, which makes Lola laugh, even though she’s tearing up at the sight of him.

Nikki relaxes his grip on her shoulders without her needing to ask, and she ran to Leo, jumping to wrap him in a koala hug as he anticipated as much, holding her tight.

“If you guys ever wanted her back here to stay, you know she’d be more than happy to do it, I don’t know how you guys did it, but she loves you more than anything else in the whole world,” Nikki says quietly to Irene, the pair of them watching Lola and Leo, still hugging, with Lola koala-ed onto her father, talking to each other.

“She’s lucky to have Leo,” Irene said softly, “and so am I,” she admits easily, with a smile, “we both just wanted to give her the world, and if that, for her, means taking over the diner, then she’ll always have a place here, but if she wants more than that, if for her the world is the world, we’ll do everything in our power to help her get it,” she paused, before her smile turns amused; the expression looks so much like Lola’s, “but I suspect she doesn’t need our help with that.”

“And Nikki,” Irene turns to him, to look him in the eyes, and he knows that she knows every terrible thing Lola knows about him, but the thing is, he trusts Lola, and Lola loves and trusts her parents more than anything in the world, so if she’s trusted them with his dirty laundry and they still treat him kindly, he knows he has nothing to fear, “as long as you love her and treat her well, you’ll have us in your corner too.”

----

In 2005, it seems as though everyone in the entertainment industry knows about Boston’s famous Lionheart Diner, renamed in the mid-90s to coincide with the official forming of Lionheart Talent Management in LA, a label that would develop a reputation for finding talented underground acts, and making them huge.

Over the years, it had become a tradition for touring rock groups to visit the diner, claiming The Godfather sent them, even if Lola had never interacted with the band. As time wore on, bands outside of the rock genre caught on to the tradition, and soon even those from film or television or even art had joined the tradition too.

The business was booming, it had become a spot for tourists to come take photos against the wall of famous band photos, and people would often stop by on the off chance that someone famous would be around. They’d invested in selling shirts, plain black with the Lionheart logo over the left breast, and the word ‘crew’ printed in all capitals in white across the back.

The heart of the business remained, with Leo, seventy-one and still spry, as Sous Chef, while Kai had stepped up as head chef. One of the benefits of being part-owned by a successful management company was that Irene was able to retire, as Lola’s in-house accountants took care of the diner’s finances, and her little sixty-nine year-old mother could spend her time relaxing, or playing with her grandchildren.

In 2005, Lola went home in anticipation of a letter she hoped her parents would be receiving, taking Nikki, their son, and her entire rolodex of industry contacts with her.

In 2005, Lola and her family are awoken by a legitimate yell sounding through the little flat above the diner; it’s Leo, he’s excited and nervous and panicking, and Lola’s rubbing sleep from her eyes as she finds him, alongside her mother, sitting at the kitchen table, looking at a pristine, off-white envelope.

“We should wait for Kai, we have to call him, we have to call him now,” Leo’s chattering away, already up, and when Lola sits at the table, Irene hands her the bulky envelope before she even has to ask.

The return address was the Michelin Offices in Paris.

Lola’s smile grows wider.

The kitchen is eerily silent, apart from Lola’s son Mal moving about the kitchen, making himself cereal, as all the adults wait quietly for Kai to arrive with his own wife and baby daughters.

“I heard they were... were coming to America, but I thought it was only New York,” Leo looked so much younger for his nervous excitement, and once Kai had sat down and realised what it was, Lola pushed the envelope towards her father.

With shaking hands, Leo opens the letter, he and Kai reading the congratulations that had been sent to them, the praise for their food, their plating, their atmosphere and service. Leo’s crying, his hand pressed to his mouth, he’s crying, and Lola can feel the tears in her eyes too.

“They gave us two stars,” he chokes out, pride in his voice, “two whole Michelin Stars, the only restaurant outside of New York,” he’s sniffling as he lets Kai take the letter, pulling the book from the package, thumbing through it, and bursting into tears, the book in a white-knuckled grip as a lifetime of work is finally granted the recognition it deserved.

“Two stars; excellent cooking, worth a detour,” Kai was crying too, his pride overwhelming him, and it seemed, all other at the table, aside from Nikki, and Kai’s wife Julia.

Lola spends the next week organising a party, calling everyone and anyone to invite them to Leo’s, promising her father the night off to celebrate, but he waved her off, so long as she would work by his side for the night. Of course she agreed.

It was a star-studded event, surprising the locals, with Lola calling her contacts who loved the restaurant, and Leo and Irene and Kai calling old regulars they wanted to celebrate with, everyone who heard the news was delighted, knew it was well earned, and cheered as Leo unveiled the new sign with the Michelin Stars on full display.

“Thirty years ago,” Lola makes a toast, and the room falls silent, all looking at her on this night of mirth and merry, on this night of celebrating Leo and Irene and their family and their staff, “I claimed that the Michelin Star Inspectors were classicist, bitch-ass jagweeds, who hadn’t given the diner a star because they couldn’t even be bothered making the detour it was worth,” and that got a laugh to rise from the crowd, while Leo’s surprised Lola remembers that, hell, he’s surprised he remembers that, “but they’ve finally come to America; they said they were coming to New York, but you know what- you know fucking what? They made the detour! Because they’d heard this place was worth it! They knew what my parents built, what everyone here still upholds, it’s world class, it’s excellent cooking, it’s worth the detour!” And a cheer rises from the crowd, just as the diner deserves.

But something about it sticks for Leo, something about it is familiar, perhaps it’s just the way Lola’s smiling, but he asks for a word with her, and she agrees easily. She’s not his little girl anymore, neither of them as young as they once were, but they sit on the back step of the diner, the door shut, the celebrations inside muffled.

After a long while, Leo looks to Lola and gives her a fond little smile.

“I’ve really raised a supervillain, haven’t I?” And Lola acts confused for all of two minutes before she gives up the ruse, grinning like she’d been caught red-handed.

“Hey, if this place didn’t deserve any Michelin Stars, it wouldn’t get any; I just wanted to get the word out there so people would know where to look,” she shrugged, and Leo threw an arm around her, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“How long were you planning this?”

“That day in the diner when we talked about my future, and I said this place deserved a Michelin Star,” she admitted, and Leo’s eyes went wide, realising just why she’d remembered that day so well during her speech.

“Your thirty year plan?”

“I didn’t know when they’d come to America, honestly I think you guys would have still had enough notoriety to warrant someone coming to check this place out fifteen years ago,” she mused, “but like I said, it’s because this is a good diner, dad, I only brought it to their attention.”

“Lola, this is you life -” he tried with concern, though Lola rested her head on his shoulder, cutting him off with reassurances.

“I love my job, I love the life that I have, and the people in it, and it just so happened that the thing that I’m good at and do professionally means I have some influence; I promised I’d only use my powers for good, and this is the good-est thing I could think of,” she ducks her head, to hide her teary eyes, so glad that finally her family, her father, got their deserved recognition.

“All for your lil’ old family,” Leo gave a watery chuckle, overwhelmed with pride.

“All for my lil’ old family,” Lola agreed, sniffling, and Leo pulled her into a tight hug, so Lola’s next words were muffled against his chest, “come on, dude, be cool.”

“You made the whole world love us because how much you love us, I will not be cool,” Leo held her tighter, and Lola laughed softly, wanting this moment to last forever if it could, “you were never a supervillain, sweet girl, you’ve always been my hero.”

#rtp #nikki sixx #nikki x lola #tommy lee #mick mars #Doc McGhee #vince neil #kiss band #the angry lizard writes

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mommymooze · 4 years ago

Text

Bob

Bob-Original Character.

Warning: Crack (yes, I found crack!) vulgar, violent, bad humor, toasty cinnamonrolls Hubert abuse

Part 1

He confidently strides around the grounds of the Monastery like he owns the place. Noone dares to tell him he doesn’t. He’s always been curious, his quest for knowledge knows no bounds. That Riegan kid? An amateur next to him. The poisons and potions that boy comes up with? He made those before he was 9. Riegan is always bragging about Lysithia. Youngest girl to graduate from the School of Sorcery, she is such a prodigy, bla, bla, bla. He had graduated before his 10th birthday. His graduating thesis rewrote the book on transmogrification.

He doesn’t care for Claude practically sticking his tongue in Professor Byleth’s ear at every turn. Okay, so the doof hasn’t quite done that, but he can see that the guy really ‘breathily’ speaks in her ear, so he may as well be. Bob is not jealous. Byleth doesn’t interest him. Not in that way. He knows she’s the best choice for Professor for the Blue Lions. Golden Deer are too chaotic and disorganized. The Black Eagles are practically run by the Agarthans, unfortunately those idiots can’t see it. Besides, its easier to ‘fit in’ with the people of his ‘land’. He’s a noble, in the loosest sense of the word.

His fellow Blue Lions will follow Dimitri to hell and back. Little do they know that Dimitri already has one foot in hell. The guy is nuts. The things he talks about in his sleep, well, Bob’s seen people like that before. They have endured some really heavy shit and trauma. Usually it’s a one-way trip. Dimitri’s hanging on by a thin frayed thread and only Dedue is keeping him grounded. Looks like Professor Byleth is picking up on it. Saving Dedue’s life was the best thing that ever happened to Dimitri.

Now Sylvain, he got a rotten deal handed to him. Don’t blame him for his coping mechanism of getting back at the girls that are after him for his goods and not him. A bit self-destructive, but he does kind of enjoy it, until it goes south. Step in Ingrid, to save him. She’s such a knight in shining armor, rescuing princess Sylvain every time. Felix, he needs a complete emotional enema. He’s been blocked up since his brother died. His father’s been blocked up since his wife died. Felix locked down all of his feelings and emotions only letting out anger and hatred. Any time he has a feeling related to kindness or love, he beats it out of himself by training to death. Ashe, there is a sweet young man. A cinnamon roll through and through. He’s been through tough times and better times. You just can’t let harm come to a freaking ray of sunshine like him. Annette is definitely in the cinnamon rolls covered in sunshine category as well, even though her conception sperm donor is a dick. Daddy Gustav, ugh, Duscur screwed him in the head too. ‘I failed as a knight. I couldn’t protect them.’ So you dump your family, stick your thumb in your ass and watch Dimitri fall apart? Really? Yeah he super sucks as a father type thing. Mercedes is a fun girl. She’s seen some shit, yet she is so motherly to all the Lions. She is not one to give up, even on her loser psycho brother.

Bob is a model student. He watches the idiotic pranks that Sylvain pulls. Fart jokes? That is third grade stuff. They have the big mock battle between the classes in a few weeks. Bob catches the redhead getting turned down by Felix when he invites his bff to town to check out some girls. Bob just happens to be near the door when Sylvain exits.

“Hey man, heard you may be heading to town. Need a wingman?” Bob offers.

“Only if you buy the first round.” Sylvain grins.

They head out the front gates to the town on the other side of the woods. Talking about their favorite types of girls, Sylvain is ready to hit up anything in a skirt by the time they hit the closest drinking establishment. Half an ale gone and the redhead has found a couple of prospective tarts ready to take a bite out of. Bob takes a seat next to a young brunette cleric who shyly smiles as he sits. They chatter amicably, before the evening is over, he knows of her family, history, deity (not Sothis, gasp) how long she has done this, life’s dreams, battle experience, her strongest spells, affinities, favorite foods, shoe size and her birthday. Sylvain returns to the tavern a bit disheveled and a grin from ear to ear. Bob bids his little friend good night. Once he is finished suffering through the heavily detailed victorious encounter that the handsome cavalier has just experienced, Bob changes direction of the conversation to the redhead himself.

“Dude, why do you act like such a fuckup? Felix hits it right on the nose every time and you just crumble. You are much smarter than you lead everyone to believe. You hold back on your magic. You can handle a lance like nobody’s business. If you practiced some, get your speed up, you’d be deadly. What’s the deal?” Bob doesn’t exactly hold back.

“Look,” Sylvain whines, “I know I’m a fuckup. My father has my life lined up for me. He’ll pick out who I marry, I’m stuck watching over the Gautier territory, making crestbabies to grow up and wield the Lance of Ruin. My brother was fucked over by my father for not having a crest. I had to go out and kill him. My own brother. My whole life is so messed up, why should I even try?”

Bob leans over and whispers into the redhead’s ear. “Man, the winds of change are coming. This whole godessdamned world is going to be flipped upside down. Just when you think it can’t get any worse it does. It’s gonna be a mess. Then one day, there’s going to be a light in that darkness, and the world is tilted again. All the slates are going to be wiped clean and I intend on being there to rewrite it all. I just want you to come along for the ride, dude.”

Sylvain looks at Bob like he’s got two heads. “How much did you have to drink while I was gone? That is some crazy heavy shit. Whatever it was, you gotta buy me some next time.” He laughs as they get back to the monastery gates.

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

Bob quickly becomes bored with the highly censored library in the monastery and decides to find where the one is in Abyss. Besides, he hates the skinwalker librarian. The creep likes to hand out anti church of Seiros paraphernalia to anyone that would take one. Bob knew of Abyss long before he had ever arrived. He found out more information about Garreg Mach on the outside than on the inside. Once you go past the front gate, the church folks zip their lips shut. He sneaks around a few tunnels, keeping his eyes peeled for anyone nearby. Noting some footsteps slowly moving closer, he blends in with the walls. Two girls walk past, he’s just about to let them keep going, but he recognizes one of them.

“Hapi?” Bob softly gasps.

“Dipshit! Long time no see, jerk!” Hapi runs over and hugs him.

The taller blonde girl stands, waiting for a proper introduction.

“Oh, Coco, this is my friend, Dipshit. He helped get me out of the terrible place where, you know, those guys were.” Hapi says.

The noble woman offers her hand, “Constance Von Nuvelle. I am temporarily living here, however I strive to restore House Nuvelle to its finest glory.

Bob takes her hand, kissing the back of it, “I am very honored to make your acquaintance. How fortunate to meet such a beautiful woman as yourself in such an interesting location.”

Constance Nuvelle giggles at his introduction. Bob is all OMG she is so CUTE.

Hapi gives him the stink-eye “Aaanyyway, we should prolly take you to meet Yuribird. He’s the boss around here. “

So they meander over to the class room and meet Yuri. Tall, beautiful, with an air of mystery for kicks, Yuri greets the newcomer. “Any friend of Hapi’s is welcome.”

Bob explains his presence. “I’m not here to get in your business. Just wanted to check out your library. If I find anything useful to you, I know where to go with it. Mostly I am interested in all the crap that is going on topside.”

Yuri walks with him to the place where Seteth’s banished books have been stored. Bob tears into it like a man starved. Feeding on everything he can get his hands on.

Yuri decides to be sociable for a moment. “Whatcha looking for friend?”

Bob “the usual. Nabatheans, Agarthans, saints, Nemesis, relics, bloodlines, histories that may be a little closer to the truth than what they have upstairs. “

Yuri nods. “Sure. Have at it.”

“I’ll let you know if I find anything about the Crest of Aubin or the rest of you guys.” Bob offhandedly remarks looking through a few books.

Yuri starts cleaning under his nails with a particularly sharp dagger. “Funny, no one mentioned Crests, much less if anyone has one.”

“I can smell ‘em.” Bob says indifferently. “One of their experiments gone haywire. Hapi and I did time together. Ask her, she’s where I got my crest.”

“Have fun.” Yuri quips before heading out, stashing his dagger.

Bob is devouring this library. Opens every single book on every single shelf. Divides them into piles. Church, Magic, research, Agarthans, useful, and crap.

Encyclopedia of Fodlan’s Insects. Insects is what the Agarthans call Nabatheans. Winged bugs that need squashing. It also describes items forbidden by the church. These of course are things the Agarthans have used for centuries. Telescopes, viewing lenses, metal printing presses, decent condoms. Bob laughs out loud at the section on autopsies. Wouldn’t want you poking around inside someone’s head or chest. May accidentally find a crest stone or worse rattling around in there. Bob finishes sorting the upper levels of the Shadow Library. He hands a few books to Yuri to peruse, telling him to hang on to them, Bob would like a close look when he is done. Bob shuffles off with armful after armful of books, taking them to a quiet little nook that Yuri has permitted for him. Not much bigger than a closet, but its enough room to keep the books secure. Just as he’s on his last trips, who should happen to arrive at the library but Hubert von Vestra.

“Hey Bro, what the fuck you doin’ down here?” Bob impolitely and arrogantly asks.

“You. Why don’t you crawl back under your rock.” Hubert curses.

“Surprised to see you standing up. Usually you’re on all fours licking her high and mightynesses boots.” Bob shakes his head, getting his black and white bangs out of his eyes.

“Lady Edelgard deserves all of my praise and loyalty for everything she has been through. House Vestra shall always be at her service.” Hubert stiffly replies.

“Yeah, how’s that working out for you. She hasn’t been through half the shit I’ve been through. She’s barely holding it together. What’s fucking hilarious is she’s relying on you to help her keep it together. You still haven’t gotten over killing father. You should’ve let me know. I’d’ve done it in a heartbeat. Can’t wait till I can slit my beautiful mother’s throat and listen to her gurgling as the life flows from her.”

“He denounced you. You are not a Vestra.” The Black Eagle spits out.

Bob puts his hands on his hips. “Gimme a break. You and I are cut from the same mold. Same greasy black hair, at least I take care of mine. Same strong chin, handsome cheek bones, body structure. Hell we have the same color eyes from father. Just because I’m your half bro doesn’t mean I’m not part of your family. We’re both drawn to black and dark magic. We wield spells far above our fellow students. Just think of the things we could do together. “

“No. You are crude, undignified, unprodigious, and disgusting inside as well as out.” Hubert spits.

“We’re twins! I’m just the better looking one. Just ask anyone. You stand around like a starving vulture ready to pounce on everyone. Always looming and leering. That creepy guy intimidation thing only gets you so far. You need to work on your charm.” Bob schmoozes, moving closer to his half brother.

“I’ve had enough of this.” Hubert gives a disgusted frown and warps away.

“I love dicking with him. Fucking dickwad.” Bob laughs a deep and frightening laugh that scares some female out in the hallway who screams and runs away.

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

When Flayne goes missing, Bob becomes unhappy. She’s a sweet and innocent girl. Yeah, she’s got dragon blood and all that, but really she’s nice. Cinnamon roll nice. Too nice to be caught up in any Agarthan mess. And this kidnapping has Agarthan written all over it.

Bob shows up behind Hubert, smashing his face into a wall and nicking his half bro’s throat as he puts a dagger under his chin. “Tell her to call the Agarthan dogs back. Tell her how wrong it is to work with them. They are not your friends. The enemy of your enemy crap doesn’t work. They are only using you, not the other way around”

Hubert, bloody nosed from having it smashed into a wall mutters, “I will bring it up in our next conversation.”

“Yeah. Talk about it. All talk, no action.” Bob disappears through the wall. He materializes in the library behind Ashe.

“Ashe, take off your baseball cap.” The cool dark mage orders.

The grey haired cinnamon roll takes off his hat and sits very straight in the comfy chair in the library. He can feel the hand patting his head, then stroking his hair from the top of his head down to his neck.

“Good boy, you are a good boy Ashe.” Bob begins his mantra, praising and patting.

“Yes. I am a good boy.” Ashe repeats, closing his eyes.

Thirty minutes later Ashe is happily asleep curled up in the chair and Bob no longer has steam coming out of his ears. Bob looks around the library. Where is that Thomas creep anyway? Bob goes to the upper levels where Thomas’ desk is located. Pinned to the bulletin board is a cartoon of Rhea tied to a stake while they light a huge fire under her. A poster in Medieval script saying “Dragons must Die!!!” A stack of love poems devoted to Catherine, his forbidden love. And a large, oversized rubber stamp that says “DENIED”. But no sign of Thomas. Bob decides to pay the gatekeeper a visit. He floats down the three flights of stairs to the main level. Not only because it is cool if you can float, but he also won’t trip over one of Claude’s 17 pairs of roller-skates he leaves everywhere, especially on stairs.

“Greetings Bob, nothing to report.” The gatekeeper happily greets the black and white haired mage, cheerfully looking up into his piercing citrine eyes.

“Hey Keeps, you ever see the librarian head out of these gates?” Bob asks him in a deep, sultry voice.

“Oh yeah, I guess he left almost a week ago. I bet he’s going out to chase down some overdue books. Had a large empty sack on his shoulder.” Gatekeeper smiles ever so widely, a blush to his cheeks as he stares deeper into Bob’s eyes.

Caspar overhears the conversation, gasps, and runs straight to Linhardt’s room to save his best friend from being sentenced to death for his lack of library returns.

Bob returns to his room for the night to ponder the mysteries of the universe, Flayn’s location, why does Felix do that thing with his hair, and why does Dimitri find Alois’ jokes funny? They suck so bad. Is it the madness?

-----------

Breakfast with the Blue Lions is enlightening. There are rumors of some sort of dude that dresses up like the grim reaper, complete with scythe that is creeping out the people in the village. Just one more thing to add to the list of the weird crap that is going on around this place. As he walks across the courtyard, some guy from the kitchen bumps into him.

“Hey, watch it, bud.” Bob giving the guy the eye.

Kitchen guy stops him. ”Have you seen Manuela?” he asks as blood is dripping down his arm.

Bob holds his hands out like he is holding two invisible watermelons to his chest, “Really big…?”

The guy nods.

Bob smirks, “Never heard of her. What were you doing?” Bob curiously asks.

“Peeling potatoes. Knife slipped.” Kitchen guy says, not looking so good. Bob knows to avoid potatoes for dinner.

“Head for the training grounds, healers are always hanging out there for practice opportunities.” Bob says before heading to the stable area. Just as he walks past the Knights quarters, he hears a shriek in a perfect “C”. Probably Manuela. Just before he goes inside he stops a guy standing out front telling him to get the Blue Lions. You know, the group with the really tall hot blonde guy? Yeah, those Blue Lions.

The mage runs down the hall and finds a door partially open. He pushes it the rest of the way to find Manuela lying on the floor. She’s reaching out for something by the wall, as Bob gets closer he can smell them, Agarthans. He feels around and there’s a secret passage that opens wide to show a path down to the stink. The dark mage heads straight down the hole, lighting every torch on the way to guide the rest of his house. The Professor arrives at the bottom of the stairs to find all of the enemies in the immediate area are on fire. Bob is currently hurling fire spells through the gate at the enemies in the next room. “Die motherfuckers!! MUahahahahahahaha! Eat this!” Bob screams as he throws another fireball at one of the guys in the next room who tries to hide as far in a corner as possible, but still winds up having his robes catch fire and he screams in agony.

Byleth places her hand on Bob’s shoulder, whispering in his ear. “Calm down dude, you’re frightening the kids. Don’t scar our cinnamonrolls.”

Bob pulls a fist in front of his mouth. “Oopsie. Sorry. Was over excited. ::cough cough::”

The Blue Lions take over from here. Ashe unlocks the door as Felix and Sylvain rush in followed by Dedue and Ingrid. The professor heads to the left to unlock another gate.

Bob reaches over to pat Ashe on the head. “Good boy, you are such a good boy.”

Ashe smiles as his eyes glaze the slightest bit.

They move forward quickly wiping out the soldiers that are nearby. Felix and Sylvain take some warp tiles that send them to various places in the area where they can deactivate trap tiles. They all are joined together at the door in front of the death knight. Ashe opens the door. Bob’s already materialized in the room and hitting the big masked dude on the horsie with Dark Spikes T when the Flame Emperor shows up to send horsie boy off.

Flame Emperor “Go home Creepy McCreepface, you done good. I am the Flame Emperor. I will reforge the world.” And with that they both warp off.

Professor “We need to get these kids out of here.”

Bob, “I’ll grab Flayne, leave that other one, it smells bad.” He tosses Flayne over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Bob carries her all the way to the infirmary. When putting her on a cot, he notices that her shirt sleeves were sliced open to her armpits and there are multiple holes in her arms where the evil bloodsuckers have taken her blood multiple times. He whispers to Manuela that the girl is a few quarts low, then he leaves.

Bob heads straight to Hubert’s room. His half brother isn’t there, so he waits for him to show up. So he’s not too bored, he goes into his brothers notes on spells and adds a few extra lines here and there to Sigils and changes ingredients on some poisons.

As soon as Hubert enters the door he is tripped then given a knee in the back while his dear half sibling repeatedly smashes his face into the floor.

“I told ::slam:: you not ::slam:: to work ::slam:: with them. ::slam slam:: Fucking idiot! ::slam slam slam::

Hubert’s nose is quite crooked and he can’t breathe correctly through it now. “I toad her, but she woodit lissen.”

Bob continues his rant. “Now we have a kid that suddenly appears from being gone last year. “ He definitely does airquotes on the word “suddenly”. “She’s one of them, I know it. Dump her. Dump the Agarthans. And wash your hair sometimes, ew.” Bob disappears through the floor, listening to Hubert call him a few names that weren’t in the book. Bob needs to write those down.

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

It was time for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion and no Deerz allowed. Byleth has been working them pretty hard, advancing Bob as quickly as she can in magic certifications. He’s got reason down better than anyone in the group, so he’s been teaching them more advanced spellcasting. Byleth doesn’t say much but she catches on fast. If you can get Annette to shut up and concentrate, she does an amazing job. Mercedes doesn’t have her heart in it but manages to get a few reason spells down, Fire for sure, and Thunder is getting better. Felix is great with Thunder. Sylvain would be great with fire, but he screws around too much.

The horn signals for the battle to begin. Bob immediately heads for the back lines of the Black Eagles, materializing behind Linhardt, stabbing him with a blade covered with a powerful sleeping concoction. Lin would probably thank him. Bob heads over to behind Marianne in the Golden Deer. He whispers “good night, sweetie” in her ear before he holds a cloth covered with the same powerful sleeping potion. Lying her carefully on the ground he hides out in the nearby bushes to find out where Lysithia has gone off to.

He watches Ferdinand and Sylvain get into it. Handsome redheads on horses stab at each other repeatedly with pointed sticks. Finally, Sylvain gets the upper hand, but not by much. Ferdinand is out and heads to the boundary lines. Sylvain heads back to Mercedes for a bit of patching up. Annette is working on whittling down Ignatz, blowing his arrows off course as she attacks with wind spells. The professor is taking out Raphael and Claude. Bob decides to throw a mire at Hilda. She screams about her hair and how gross the magic muck feels all over her and gives up. Felix is giving Leonie a workout. Sylvain is back and taking on Lorenz. Lorenz throws a decent Fire spell at Sylvain, causing the redhead’s horse to rear up, he still is able to stay on the steed and then counter Lorenz with a decent lance jab that knocks the grapeheaded guy off his horse.

The battle continues on. It is between the lions and eagles, the deer are out. Its very helpful at this point that the eagles have no healer except for Dorothea. Her magic is going to be defensive not attacking for the most part. Edelgard marches down the field heading for Dimitri and Dedue, followed by Hubert and Caspar. Bob lost track of Petra and Felix, not sure who won that match. Bob grabs a large wooden sword lying on the ground and materializes behind Hubert. Swinging the flat edge of the blade at full force at the back of Hubert’s head, Bob provides Hubert with the headache of the month.

“Blockhead.” Bob smirks as he watches the dark mage fall and Bob disappears into the ground just under the swing of Edelgard’s axe. Bob shows up in a copse of trees not far away watching the rest of the blue lions completely wipe out the black eagles.

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

Bob is in Abyss, in the laboratory of the most creative and beautiful sorceress he has ever met.

“Darling, would you be so kind to join me for lunch today? I would be ever so honored and grateful if you would grace my humble presence with your enlightening company.” Bob croons.

“Ever the charming one, pumpkin. However I must decline as I have serious potions to concoct today and they simply cannot mix themselves.” Constance smiles ever so sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

“Ahh. I so adore your everworking and brilliant mind, however you do need nourishment for your delectable body. If I may, I will retrieve lunch from above and bring it back to provide you with the energy needed to complete your serious tasks. “ Bob dashingly offers, his hands on his hips, his hair waving in the breeze, a sparkle shows on his teeth with a ding.

“I suppose I must acquiesce to obtaining sustenance. Having your handsome face as accompaniment is also a great pleasure. Please do go, with haste and fetch our midday feast.” Coco wiggles her fingers, encouraging him to hurry.

“But of course my flower, my jewel. I shall return poste haste.” Bob says, holding his palm open for her to gently place her hand within it so that he may delicately kiss the back of her hand, and then lick it for good measure.

He then disappears through the floor, only a minute later to walk through the wall behind her.

“Every moment away tears at my heart, my sweet lady. I am overjoyed to have returned and bask in your beauty once again. Please join me.” The handsome dark mage waves a hand at the beautifully set table complete with two darling candelabras with Ashen Wolves colored candles, napkins and tablecloth.

They sit on the same side of the table. Bob smiles and he feeds her bite after bite until she is satisfied. Next time he may even offer to chew if for her if she so desires. He takes a napkin and lightly dabs at the corner of her mouth.

“There my precious one.” Bob coos in her ear. “Have you been sated? Is there anything else that I may obtain for you? I would pull the stars from the sky if you would only ask for them.”

Constance smiles, a bit of green something stuck on her teeth, “Nah, I’m good. “

Bob helps her from her chair and walks her back to the laboratory table. “Ahh. Then, although it pains me to do so< I shall leave you to your work.” He says before snapping his fingers, clearing the table.

Bob dips her, giving her a face sucking kiss until her skin on her cheeks is almost purple, as he stands her back up she is completely gasping for breath, trying to cool herself with her fan. She has a severe case of the vapors. He then rises into the air, disappearing through the ceiling.

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

Remire Village. Nice place if you like living in Hell!!!! Whole place is aflame. Dimitri is acting like Frankenstein’s monster getting creeped out by the flames everywhere giving him flashbacks of Duscur. Felix is getting flashbacks of feral Dimitri. Sylvain is getting flashbacks of the girls he had dated here, they’re all monsters now and after him. Ingrid is having flashbacks of when she was camping and her marshmallows AND her hotdog fell into the campfire. Bob is busy covering the eyes of Annette and Ashe to keep them from as much of the horror as possible, the smell around him of burnt cinnamon is concerning. Somehow they save the villagers, Thomas’ skin is removed from Solon, a pasty white older than dirt uglier than sin guy. Professor B beats up the old guy pretty quick and pastyboy heads for the hills.

The Death Knight is there. Bob pulls the cinnamon rolls over and whispers in their ears.

“Hey kids, would you like to see your dear Uncle Bob get rid of the McKreepface guy on the horse? I’ll let you laugh at him while he burns, okay?”

Ashe and Annette nod their heads very quickly has Bob hands them each a bowl of popcorn and a box of milkduds for the show.

“Huzza-huzza-HOOM! You’re about to meet your DOOOOOOM!” Bob cackles as the magic of Dark Spikes T whips from his fingers and chomps on the body of the Death Knight like Godzilla eating buildings in Tokyo. The only thing left of the dude is a Dark Seal that Bob wraps in a pink bow and hands to Professor Byleth.

“Don’t you want this, Bob?” the Professor asks.

“Nope, mother got me one for my birth day. Figured you could use a spare.” The dark mage quips.

The Flame Emperor shows up. “Deathknight, you’re having too much fuuuuuuuuuck! What did you do to my pet?”

“Chomp chomp bitch.” Bob says making hand gestures like his fingers are teeth chomping towards her face.

Jeralt is angry. “So you’re the one that did this to my favorite village?”

“No, no, you got it all wrong.” The Flame Emperor backpedals. “Yeah, Solon works with me, but man I didn’t know he was going to pull this shit.”

“Come to the dark side!” Flameface pleads. “I will give you cookies…”

“We got Mercedes, your cookies suck compared to ours. Oh, and you suck too.” Says Byleth.

“Look, Solon and his buddies, they are powerful. Together, me, you, The Sword of the Creator. We can take them down.” Flame face

Bob pulls his right hand into his sleeve to make it look like it’s been cut off. “I’ll never rule the universe with you!”

Dedue runs up saying his Princeliness is missing. Bob grabs his two cinnamon rolls protectively.

“Don’t let Mr. CrazySpaghettihead scare you. Lets go get some icecream.” Bob says leading them to the monastery.

#fe3h #fire embelm three houses #Blue Lions #Crack #my stories #Black Eagles #FE16 hubert von vestra #byleth eisner

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coconutsugacones · 4 years ago

Text

BUGS BIRTHDAY "STASH"

san and I were cuddling on top of the couch, watching tiktoks and giggling, forgetting what personal space meant and then all of a sudden he He lifts up his white shirt off his body and came straight at my neck, attacking m with harsh hickeys

he took my shirt off and went lower and lower, kissing every inch of my skin. Normally I would have screamed at him to stop but these days my hormones have been acting on me and with all my emotions heightened, I start to enjoy it slightly moaning his name while my hans went up to his face he sliD my panties off and started slURPING up my insides like a slushie. It was when he started to suckk on my lil ball of nerves when the front door opened with an ASTrOmOnIcal Amount of force the door open bUrSt open and two clowns ran in. Two plump looking clowns in striped reD was all I saw for a few seconds in my aroused state. It was then I realised it was my two mates.

“just as it was getting good” i whispered to san as we tried to cover ourselves oP because we realized they we’re tryna film us to make a porno tape??. As Mals was trYnnA gesture at me to keep going, her clown nose detached off and rolled on to to sans ass.

mals tried to pick up her clown nose from sans ass but just ended up making it go further in his holé. "ahhh UhG" San let out a moan that I could only describe as something between an anime girl and a construction worker having a wank on his break.

now all 3 of us were gathered around sans ass, trying to get the clown nose outta his ass, we were working aT iT like a group of engineering students trying to fix a brokEn engine. Then rans had the absolutely thrilling idea of facetiming her bouyften Yuri for help getting it out. While I was trying my best to deter her away from that idea (cause hello that's mY BRO) San that mf spilled all his load on the couch

while ihu was busy trying to clean sans white mess up rans quickly called yuri up, knowing he had plently experiences with getting bALLs outta pacific holes

"yes it only works with strawberry ice-cream" we heard Yuri say. with that rans quicky went towards the fridge to look for the said icY GOodnESs. we were all confused with what yuri said, but at this point we were willing to try anYTHING to shimmy that ball out of there

"Shimmy yeah shimyy yeah shimmy yeah all allalassslll" San Started to sing. It was then rona’ came in with a bUCKet of the sweet stuff™️

She guided San to sit in the bucket and thanked the jeezis for his thin hips and snatched waist. The poor bOi was terrified as to why he was in this situation, calling for HOngJoon hyung even though he's hallways across the continent.

I was doing my best to comfort san, because even though he tried to play it off like it was cOOL*wink* i knew his ass was boutta freeze off

"okay next Yuri said we have to have one hand in the bucket with San" rans said "me MEEee" before I or anyone else could say anythinv, mals dunked her whole hands in.

mals instantly regretted dunking her hand in because it was colder than the mf nITROgen filled icecubes chan shoved up her vaheena the order day. Whilst mals was blowing on her hand as if THat will help we heard some pigeons from the balcony.

my whole face lit up when i realized my m8s were here for the rescue!

All three of us had the same idea and we ushered San in all his naked glory towards the balcony. "Okay San trust us this won't take long"

the pigeons gathered around san in a prayer circle and started chanting in some kinda weird oTher woRLDLY language that none of us had heard before. Slowly but surely the red nose started to slip out of san. This resulted in some ass simulations for the bOi and he stared get hard again, the moans now louder and echoing though the empty street

they all started to cheer clAP in joy, finally the ball was out! but wait what was that-

THE PIGEONS HAD ACCIDENTALLY SUMMONED SATURN 🪐

And there was Saturn! Makinb his way downtown.

san started whIMpering in fear as he didn’t want another ball anywhere nEaR his ass after that traumatizing incident. So we all headed back inside and the pigeon follows us in probably wanting a snack for their hard work. RAns wasnt having any of it and dragged each pigeon one by one by their wings outside and made them drink the now melted ice cream from the bucket.

ihus cancer ass didn’t want her m8s to be drinking anymore of her fiancés gREASE and led them into her bed to sleep, because after all without them san would prolly still have a ball in his ass. The pigeons were all drenched in the pink liquid but they all laid down on my bed like the good slavs they were. as i put the piegeons to resting, i realized we had to do suMN about this wandering satURN 🪐

I went out to sitting room to discuss what we should do about saturn and nealrh choked out sans cum from last night case there was saturn, leaning against the kitchen door just chilling on one leg

“sup ladies” saturn beybe-nim said with a wiNK as he started to hoP towards us

"soo I was thinkinnn" Saturn started with his gay ass voice as he sat down at our table and started helping himslef to sum mashuni and roshi. before saturn could help himself to more of MY food i was coming @ him but then san pushed me aside and started walkin towards sAturn, dick first, at full speed.

"Omg I totally forgot about sans demon kink!" Mals exclaimed taking out her camer and going behind the couch for that "angle" or watever..

san didn’t heard her aNd tRIPPED on the ground, dick in fULL erection and this was when Saturns gay ass Approached him to sing "hey I just met you and this is crazy but hears my number so call me maybe" but san got propelled towards the ceiling from bouncing of top of dick

I had ENOUGH of him flirting with MY mans and went over there and slapped saturn across his smug face.

Saturn immediately burst into tears saying something about how "none of god's niggas can be gay in peace" but the real cAtASrophe was his tears were absolutely boiling hot and dissolving the living room rug

at that moment, san knew EXACTLY what he had to do before the whole place melted into nothing. He laid down in submission, ass up as mouth open for saturn-sunbaenims tears.

saturn immidiAtly stopped cRYING and came over and slAPPED sans ass, at this point we knew we were overpOwERED by saturn and had to let him have his way if we wanted to live.

Even though I would have never been okay with it I decided to let Saturn have a quickie with my mans.this whole thing was unfair and it was supposed to be MY bIrdthay.

My girlies were comforting me and all of a sudden saturn peeled his face off to reveal he was acTUALLY WOOYOUNG all along and said “no homo bro”

"wOOOYOJnG I'm AbOUTTA KILL YOu" I screamed while going after him with ae fruit knife.

then san turned towards me and repeated a quote by the god herself “it’s not cheating if it’s your soulmate”

At This point i had had enough and scrmead at EvErONe to leave so I can go back to my room and chill in the AC with my pink m8s

while i was having some time with the m8s I realized it wasn’t really sans fault, and he only did it to save all of us. Wooyoung was to blame! did he think this was funny to do on my special day?? me and the m8s were discussing a plan to prAnK him bacc. I knew San and all of the clowns were taking refuge in my parents room so I headed there

when i went in i looked around and didn’t see anyone?? was i blind? I could’ve sworn i heard them in there. Then I went to the balcony and saw rans giving wooyoung the actUAl devil a blowjob so I quickly turned around and saw San and mols on top of the ceiling fan.

this made me even more mad! before i could address any of the problems that were going on my m8s quickly flew in to coMMeNse THe plAn. They grabbed onto wooyoung and started flyING him out of the house as fast as they could and I turned to him and said “if you wanna be saturn so bad go live in space”

My m8s unbottomed his shirt and started to fly him out almsot naked. I laughed to myslef cause he'd be having his purple nips out for the public to see. everyone stopped doing what they were doin and came out to thr balcony to see wooyoung being launched into space. But I wasn’t done with them yet! rans was cheating on yuri, san kinda cheated on me but not really? and mols probably invoted wooyOUNg here in yhe forst place.

I called for a group gathering and picked up the melted ice-cream goo with all my might and threw it on towards the traitors.

they finally got what they deserved! or did they? I looked at them and realized they were kinda elEcTRICUTING?? what the actual fuck they weren’t my friends this whole time but ROBOTS.

I gasped and took a step back in disbelief. Were they the AI robots KQ sEan kIm-nim talked about? But how did he actually manage to make and send them here?

i was so relieved but scared at the same time, at least it wasn’t my friends doing all of theese shenanigans but where were my ACTUAL frens.

The robots were now going going haywire in my living room and I was left to my own devices (literally) to clean it up and somehow get rid of them before my parents cake back.I concentrated all my negative energy on them and actually managed to throw them out of the balcony

They landed on the street and dissipated into thin air. I heard a loud elphephantd noise and looked up to see balcony San but now he looks even more like real San!

every thing was such a mess and i knew I couldn’t do it alone so i called him over to help me clean up and maybe sneak out to fiNd my real frens after that

He did a lil salute and ran straight to my house. I was extremely glads that he didn't reject me but honestly thou I did my hair the night before and was feeling like a bOUjee bitch WHo COULD deNy Me AAhA

we quickly cleaned up and went to look for the huMAN m8s

Whilst we were walking his hand slowly slipped into mine and I almost gagged on mylsef.

then I remembered sAN and how dissapeted he would be and sadly broUGHT ma hans back to myself and went aloNG. Balcony San started talking bout how he was a new trainee ata Japanese company-

we wandered along to this dark, kinda scary lookin hALL? all the lights were off and I couldn’t see anything. My clumoy ass slipped in the shiny tiles and balcony chan was too busy talking about CoLOr changing pigeons to notice it

as i helped myself up, balcony san pushed me into this bALL piT and all the lights turned on! then i saw my m8s and as i was gonna run towards them to hUg them i realized they decorated the whole place for ma borthday!!.my HUMAN m8s, rona, mols and sAN that is akakka

There was this huge redvelvet cake and a small lil stage to the side. When the stage lightings cam on I SAW MF Ikon and they started singing their songs but rock version with AcTUAl live drums and guitars. then all of the ateez members also came up from backstage and they all started singing together. San gestured atme to come up

Ateeze and ikom collabed to make me a birthday ballad song and I was fully bawling my eyes out while stuffing the caked in. From the corners of my eyes j saw rans and mals having a swimming battle on the marbled tiles.

i brought them all in for a group hug, even wet ol rans and mols and i thanked them for this amazing gift! this shore was a birthday to remember

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littlemisssquiggles · 5 years ago

Note

We've seen Oscar extend a hand of mercy towards misguided foes such as Hazel in the show, but do you believe he would have the moral strength to risk his life and actively save someone whom he may dislike for personal reasons or would his doubts and reluctance win out over duty in the end?

Hello again Al. This is actually a pretty great question. One I’ve considered beforeand my Pinehead headcanon is that Oscar is a selfless kind of kid---the kind of hero in themaking with the drive to risk his life for someone regardless of feelings orany emotional attachment he had to said person. Oscar would do it because it’s the right thing. Oscar strikes me as the type to do everything in his power tohelp if he can and this is extended to anyone he meets; friend or foe. If Oscarwas willing to take the chance to attempt to reason with Hazel in spite ofknowing he’s the enemy then I think he would definitely attempt to save someone;again friend or foe, so long as it is within his power. And ironically enough,Oscar is the type of character to be that unapologeticallyselfless. Not only does he have thereincarnation granted by the God of Light but he also has the potential to usemagic. Magic, in Remnant is literally the power of the Gods bestowing its userswith abilities beyond the likes of anything one has seen.

If magic can be used to turn regularhuman beings into animals and empower them with the forces of nature then whatelse can magic do? Instead of developing a god complex, I can see Oscar comingto view himself as a self-sacrificing saviour willing to put his life on theline because in his mind; he is the one person who can make that daringsacrifice and not have any severe repercussions.

Unlike all those huntsmen andhuntresses who died throughout Remnant’s history to decide the fate ofhumanity, Ozpin---Ozma and the other Wizards of Light have the advantage ofreturning. When one of them dies, he returns as another. I can see Oscar willing to die because in his head, his death will mean something. If he’salready going to lose himself to becoming the life of another then shouldn’t heat least ensure that his life---the one he still has control of goes outmeaning something.

It is for this reason why I think should Salemthreaten to attack Atlas with her army of Winged Beringels, Oscar wouldn’thesitate to surrender himself. He’d willingly hand himself over to the enemy ifit meant protecting or ensuring the safety of a kingdom full of innocent lives.One life in exchange for the lives of millions. Oscar would make thatsacrifice. The only folks who might be against that are the people who careabout the boy---the smaller, more honest soul that is Oscar. I’m seriouslylooking forward to seeing how that part of the Atlas Arc plays out and hope itisn’t turned into a disappointing mess since it’s an opportunity to developOscar’s character.

I actually have two imagined scenariosthat can provide decent examples for Oscar’s noble side. Okay, so hear me outon this one. Once upon a time I was left a question prompt for any theories orideas for a Mombi/Tip interactions in RWBY. For my response, I depicted another bullycharacter reminiscent of CardinWinchester---a genderbent Mombi around Oscar’sage who acted as an antagonist to him during his attendance at Atlas Academy.For the sake of this theory, I will christen this boy Kid Mombi.

For this idea, it plays out similarlylike the events of Jaundice only with Oscar as the focus character. An Oscar-worthyarc of some sort. He attends Atlas. Unintentionally attracts the attention of alocal first year bully named Kid Mombi. Kid makes it his duty to ensure that Oscar’s first timeexperience at huntsmen academy is a living nightmare; harassing him to no endusing the detail about Oscar’s lack of experience as a huntsmen as a crutch tohumiliate him repeatedly. It gets to a point where Oscar becomes frustrated andconsiders quitting Atlas and being a huntsmen altogether. Fortunately he hadclose teammates such as Ruby and Jaune to help him through this tough ordeal.

Ruby offersto be Oscar’s Pyrhha---volunteering to aid him with hiscombat training through private lessons the two will share together. This is afeat I can definitely see Ruby doing for Oscar and she’s the most fittingcharacter to do this since she’s been in Oscar’s shoes before. She knows what it’slike to be the youngest huntsmen in an academy of older more experienced pupilsand have to work hard to prove her worth. Ruby was fortunate to have her familyand friends who believed in her and now she wishes to extend that hand toOscar; if he’d allow her.

I can see Oscar being firmly against thisidea at first due to his pride. But ultimately, he’d accept Ruby’s help. Thetwo start training together thus providing a good bolster for their budding friendship to blossom further.

On Jaune’s end; he offers Oscar someadvice on how to deal with Kid Mombi, using his experience with Cardin to offerOscar some guidance. This acts as a great bonding moment for Oscar and Jaune tofurther solicit the idea of him ultimately joining JNR to revive JNPR. Isincerely hope that part of V7’s storyline with Oscar is building upon his tieswith the JNR gang; particularly Jaune as he is the leader of the team.

I pray that partof Oscar’s side of things for the next volume is showing him developing therelationships that will be most detrimental to his character growth and story OUTSIDEOF HIS SHARED STORY WITH OZPIN. TheWriters need to invest time into developing Oscar as his own character. It isadmittedly very disappointing that even after a full three-seasoned arc, Oscar still feels lessas his own person and more as a vessel through which the CRWBY Writers canprogress Ozpin’s story. Even when Ozpin is taken out of the story, nothing muchhas been done for Oscar’s character. I find it kind of odd that the narrative triesto paint the consensus that Oscar is his own person yet the writing has done little to nothingto truly justify that; at least in a way that feels satisfactory to those of us who genuinely want to see this done for Oscar. LikeI said, he needs this.

But to be fair, this is only my opinion and asalways feel free to respectfullydisagree if my words sound too harsh. At thispoint, I feel as if the only way the Writers plan on fleshing out Oscar isthrough his relationships. I’m okay with this if done right and with people whocare about Oscar for Oscar and not his connection to Ozpin. They’ve done wellenough so far with making Ruby someone on Oscar’s side.

Another example is his growing comraderywith the JNR gang, particularly Jaune. I can see the JNR gang becoming Oscar’sfamily team---his brothers and sister in arm and I want this dynamic so badly.More than that, I want Oscar to earn this relationship of his own accord. Iwant to see Oscar prove that he would make a worthy addition to the JNR gang. I’dlove to see more moments of Oscar bonding with each member of JNR. Ren includedbecause as of now he’s the one person that Oscar hasn’t shared a bonding momentwith.

This is why I like the idea of Ren being the one to suggest to Jaune tohave Oscar join their team. Jaune andNora have more or less had their moments with Oscar. Now all I need is one withRen to complete that trinity.

I will be most displeased if the CRWBYWriters end up glossing over this development too and just have V7 begin withOscar already being a part of the reformed JNPR without showing how it got tothat. But I digress.

Going back to my example: so in theend, Oscar grows stronger through the help of his friends. It gets to a pointwhere he’s able to use what he learnt from them to protect Kid Mombi during atraining session that goes haywire. In spite of everything he put him through; Oscar saves Kid and in a twist, earns his respect. After this, Kid stops bullying Oscar and instead learns torespect him as a fellow huntsman. That’s one example involving a potential RWBYcharacter.

My next example is based on a theorywhere Oscar winds up unintentionallykilling Tyrion Callows. I know most fansare probably expecting Jaune Arc to be the one to do that but once more, hear me out. This theoryplays into my musing about Ruby andOscar being kidnapped by Tyrion to be taken to Salem only for the Rosebuds to make their daring escape; winding up stranded in the middle ofthe Dark Domain where they are forced to make the trek back to civilization.Granted there was one in such a dark world.

After failing to bring the children toher, Salem mercilessly disowns Tyrion for his failure, practically leaving himleft for dead in the Dark Domain too. This sends Tyrion into a psychoticbreakdown where he vows to hunt down Ruby and Oscar and bring them back to his goddess;dead or alive if he must.

So Tyrion begins his pursuit of thechildren and at some point, he manages to track down Ruby and Oscar. During hisassault, Tyrion poisons Ruby and threatens to take her life in front of Oscarif he didn’t play ‘good lil boy’ and surrender himself to him.

My Pineheadheadcanon is that should there be a standalone Dark Domain Arc involving Ruby and Oscar surviving together, it would provide theperfect setting for Oscar to hone his magical abilities. I still stand by myhunch where part of Oscar’ssemblance will enable him to take back Ozma’s magic from a Maiden; startingwith Cinder Fall.

In the event that the CRWBY Writersplan on keeping Cinder in the main narrative and not have her killed off inAtlas, I can still see Cinderthreatening Ruby’s life before Oscar with him unlocking his semblance to saveher.

I’ve heard a number of ideas for Oscar’ssemblance from fellow Pineheads and RWBY theorists. But for this squigglemeister, I’m still sticking with his semblancebeing Nullification or Negation. I still feel as if Oscar willpossess the power to render another’s semblance useless; maybe even temporarilydisable it.

I also like this concept for theadditional detail of it having a unique effect on the Maidens. If Ozma possessed the ability to bestow his magicto the Maidens as he did in Isaac’s lifetime as the Hermit then I believe itwould be most fitting if Oscar’s truepower allows him to take that magic back. So inthe event that Cinder shows up, Oscar will relinquish her of her Fall Maidenmagic, rendering her powerless while he in turn regains a portion of hisoriginal magical strength; making him stronger than the average Maiden.

So resuming my point with the DarkDomain Arc, my hunch is that during this potential storyline, Oscar would beforced to master full control of his magic since it plays an important role inhis and Ruby’s survival in the Dark Lands. While Ruby’s Silver Eyes kept themsafe from the Grimm, my belief is that Oscar’s magic offered them nourishmentand accommodation. Like since magic provides control of elements without theuse of dust, I figured it could be used to perform feats like manifest a rockenclosure for Oscar and Ruby to camp during their travels; create fire out ofthin air to keep them warm during the nights; grow food (or the closest thingto it) out the soil for them to eat.

I know the food part sounds a lilfarfetched. However in the World of Remnant episode on the Four Maidens, therewas a shot of the original Spring Maiden growing a sunflower in the palm of herhand I believe. It’s not even to say that she had a sunflower seed in her handthat she turned into a flower. She literally conjured it out of thin air. So ifmagic can do that then surely Oscar would be able to grow some kind of food tohelp him and Ruby through the trek. Even if it’s something as small as himgrowing a small apple tree out of thin air that him and Ruby could pick from.Oscar and Ruby are the two known beings in the series who share the God of Light’slight within them. Ruby has his eyes which can combat the Grimm and Oscar hasthe gift he gave to humanity centuries ago. That’s bound to count for somethingbut who knows.

Anyways, Tyrion threatens to kill Rubyand in a heated rage, Oscar uses his magic to subdue Tyrion. But to Oscar’sastonishment and Ruby’s; the kind of magic he manifests was one he’d never usedbefore. It was a darker kind of magic---one more akin to Salem’s. I can picture Tyriontaunting Oscar. Mocking him just to further enrage him. And when Oscar’s guardis down, he lunges to finish off the subdued Ruby only for Oscar to use hisdark magic again; putting Tyrion in such a tight death grip that heaccidentally crushes the Faunus; killing him in the process.

Imagine…Oscar using dark magic and his first act isusing it to kill someone out of unbridled rage. I can imagine Oscar being horrified by this. Even though Ruby does her best to comfort him and assure Oscarthat everything was going to be okay, Oscar is left traumatized at what he haddone. While Tyrion was an enemy.

Someone Oscar tremendously disliked since heplayed a hand in Salem’s scheme to conquer Atlas kingdom; separating him and Rubyfrom their allies who they weren’t sure were still alive or dead. Despite beingthe reason the two rosebuds wound up stranded in the Dark Domain far away fromthe security of their loved ones on their own. In spite of the grief thescorpion Faunus had caused them, Oscar believed he didn’t deserve to die theway he did. By his hands. With his power. Something that was meant to be good. Do good.

It was the first time Oscar had comeclose to being exactly likeSalem and that thought frightened him most ofall.

So yeah, that’s my answer. Does this answer your question Al? Let me know if it does and as always, thanks for asking fam.

~LittleMissSquiggles(2019)

#squiggles answers: rwby #oscar pine #ruby rose #lie ren #jaune arc #salem #rwby theories #rwby v7 theories #squiggles pinehead headcanons #pinehead headcanons #albion-93

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nadziejastar · 5 years ago

Note

There used to be a huge amount of irony in Saix and Xion's relationship. He hated her for being a puppet, but he was the true puppet all along.

Being Inseparable—A Double-Edged Sword

“Sora or Xion—it matters not. But we need one of them under our control. Bear that in mind.”

Saïx nodded, and a serene smile came to Xemnas’s face.

If that smile meant anything, it was beyond him.

Yep. I do think Isa was Xehanort’s favorite lab rat and that he had all sorts of techniques performed on him to create an obedient slave. Now if that description doesn’t sound like Saïx, I don’t know what does. There’s a reason Axel’s weapons are shaped like the chakras. They both had blockages and could not heal them until the other was healed.

Axel finally stopped sulking with his arms crossed and looked up. “Which means, if the time doesn’t come, things can stay as they are.”

Saïx glared at him. “Lord Xemnas has spoken. Obey or face your end.”

After Saïx’s warning on his behalf, Xemnas vanished from the room. The others followed suit.

The third eye controls the ability to think for yourself and your spirituality. When it is blocked, you feel like you have no purpose. There was a lot more wrong with Saïx than just lacking a heart (which is bad enough). He had mind control techniques used on him. I love Nomura’s illustrations of Saïx because they do such a great job showing the idea behind his character. He can’t think for himself. He’s cold and incapable of being tuned into emotional matters.

“But—!” Saïx jumped to his feet again. At that, Xemnas’s smile disappeared.

“Silence,” he growled, returning his attention to Axel. “Where are Naminé and the boy?”

“The haunted mansion in Twilight Town.” Axel stuck the last of the ice cream pop in his mouth.

Xemnas narrowed his eyes. “Oh…?”

“I’ll go.” Saïx started walking as if he couldn’t wait to leave the scene.

In this illustration he’s totally dominated by Xemnas. He’s had his mental faculties forcefully shut down. He’s literally not capable of higher-level thought processes like the others are. Saïx lives in total fear of Xemnas and he cannot think for himself. He also is another Xehanort and doesn’t even realize it.

“You are to discover the identity of the outsider,” he told her. “Those are direct orders from Lord Xemnas. Failure is the same as insubordination. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Wha…?”

Xion had no idea that Xemnas had chosen her for this mission. To the best of her knowledge, Saïx was the one in charge of assigning tasks.

“I assume I’ve made myself clear. Keep looking.” With that, Saïx turned his back on her and left.

The causes of blockage with the Crown chakra involve spiritual abuse—-things like being forced to have blind obedience, and having no right to think for oneself. Like growing up in a cult. Ignoring this aspect of Saïx destroyed everything that made him such an interesting character. I’ll never forgive KH3 for ruining him so badly. Ugh.

Some kind of pressure was gathering between his eyebrows. He walked down the hallway, and when he arrived at the lobby, no one was there.

“Axel…?” He murmured his friend’s name without thinking, then touched his mouth at the outburst.

They had told him that Axel might have been terminated. He remembered that part.

And being terminated meant there was nothing left, nothing at all, according to Xigbar.

The whole idea behind Saïx is that these chakras are blocked. Both of these are governed by the pineal gland. Since he has the Recusant’s Sigil on his forehead, I’d say his pineal gland is dead. And I think I know how it happened. Grief and personal pain is the major cause of blockage of the third eye chakra. This actually happened to Roxas when he was afraid that Axel was terminated. He passed out in Agrabah and felt pressure between his eyebrows.

Riku gently cradled Xion in her sleep.

His head hurt, and his brows tightened in pain. Why did it hurt so badly…?

He’d first noticed that faint headache a little while ago after recalling what Zexion said to him. Now it was getting much worse—from bearable to excruciating. He had nearly blacked out for a moment, struggling with the worst headache of his life. What was going on?

It also happened to Xion when she remembered what Zexion said to Riku. And he also felt a headache at that moment.

Roxas hadn’t expected to sleep very well, and he was right. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. The center of his head felt heavy, like something pressing from the space between his eye brows all the way back.

But yesterday… Yesterday I saw Xion.

Why was she avoiding me? Why was she running away from me?

This is 100% without a doubt referencing the pineal gland. It is right between the eyebrows, in the back of the head. Roxas had issues with it when he was worried about his friends, and had trouble sleeping. This part of the brain controls the waking and sleeping cycle.

Roxas looked up, surprised to be receiving orders. But of course, it was Saïx.

And he didn’t seem any different from usual.

“Is it true about Castle Oblivion…?” he asked, not looking his superior in the face. Saïx’s response was icy.

“That’s no concern of yours.”

“What about Axel?” he pressed. Hearing that name, Saïx narrowed his eyes faintly, not even enough for Roxas to notice. He wasn’t attuned to such subtle changes.

“Who knows,” Saïx finally said. “Perhaps he is among the lost.”

I would suspect that Isa was so traumatized and afraid that his third eye basically went into total shut-down. I think Isa was traumatized so severely by having Lea threatened.

And yet, Axel couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his response. “Well, nice to know where I stand.”

He said it with a grin, but the hint of a frown tugged at the scar between Saïx’s brows. Apparently, the joke wasn’t very funny. “You made it back in one piece, didn’t you?”

Were you worried I wouldn’t? Axel almost said, but he didn’t want to deal with putting him in an even fouler mood. Disgust and rage seemed to linger closest to the surface of Saïx’s memories.

He was so worried and grief-stricken, his pineal gland went haywire and he had a total mental collapse. He went to the Realm of Sleep and he was marked with the “X” on his forehead. Essentially, Saïx was brain damaged and severely mentally compromised after this happened. He’s an even better tool for Xemnas because of this, and it’s why he rose to be his right-hand man. Being reminded of this is very unpleasant for Saïx, even though the memories are Isa’s.

Saïx: Something at Castle Oblivion changed you. Does the past mean nothing to you now?

Roxas: Are you worried about her, Axel?

Axel: Of course I am.

Roxas: Doesn’t seem like you.

I think it’s why he was so disappointed at Axel for not being as focused on their goal as he is. Of course, that’s because Axel is suffering from damage to his third eye as well. He’s been traumatized severely, and I think watching Saïx exist in his miserable, emotionless, and robotic condition is a constant source of trauma.

“He worries too much. Thinks he has to help Sora do everything…” Axel grimaced in irritation.

“But, Axel, aren’t you the one worrying about Riku and Sora?” Naminé giggled softly.

“Me, worry? You think I need to be worried about those two?” He stretched backward and rocked the chair back and forth, like a restless child.

Axel has severe anxiety regarding the people he cares about. He was so worried about Riku and Sora he rocked back and forth like a child.

“You’re not wrong…but don’t let your guard down,” Axel told them, bringing up the rear.

“Quit being such a worrywart, Axel.”

“Maybe I could if you two would quit giving me so much to worry about,” he retorted.

Xion and Roxas exchanged a look and laughed.

He constantly worried about Roxas and Xion, too.

“Genie sounded really worried about his friend–some guy named Al. But, I guess you can’t always jump in and do everything for your friends–even if you want to. And then he said that you have to respect your friend’s wishes.” Xion bit her ice cream, swinging her feet. Axel leaned his head to one side.

“Your friend’s wishes, huh…” It feels like I have heard that before, a long time ago, when I was human.

And I think he was worried about Isa, even when he told him not to.

“Well, I think you can be inseparable, even if you’re apart,” said Axel.

Roxas and Xion shared a look. “…Even if you’re apart,” Roxas murmured.

They trailed off, and this time Axel finished his ice cream. So he started talking again. “It’s like, if you feel really close to each other. Like best friends.”

The weapon shaped like the Third Eye chakra is called “Double Edge”. If you say that something is a double-edged sword, you mean that it has negative effects as well as positive effects. I think this is referring to Lea and Isa being inseparable. Lea felt really close to Isa, even when they were apart. It meant they were always felt connected as friends. But…there’s a down side. When the experiments were happening, I think he worried incessantly about Isa. If Isa dissociated due to his extreme worry and fear over losing Lea, this damaged his pineal gland. So, it only is natural that Lea also has issues with this chakra as well. He feels the same pain Isa does, due to constantly worrying. They are inseparable.

“Sheesh. Would it kill them to give me a day off? I’m exhausted,” Axel whined. “I need my beauty sleep.”

There’s a recurring theme about Axel’s inability to sleep and his constant fatigue. It’s mentioned CONSTANTLY in the novels.

Every time he tried to wake up, all Axel could think was how badly he wanted to go back to sleep—although he was getting enough rest.

He just wished he could have a day to himself and do nothing but sleep. It was probably some remnant of his human memories.

Besides, this world was always dark, even in the morning. The deep indigo sky and its heart-shaped moon outside the window might as well be a night sky.

Axel rolled over. He still had a few more minutes. But then he began to think about yesterday.

Even when he gets enough rest, he’s still tired. And he says that this desire to do noting but sleep is a remnant of his human memories.

Axel finished the report, hardly getting any sleep in the process, and figured he might as well get back to the Grey Area.

To be honest with himself, he had been sweating bullets the entire time. It wasn’t simply writing things down. He had to decide what to include and what to leave out, where he could get away with fudging the truth—it made for a grueling project.

The lobby was still empty. With an enormous yawn, Axel collapsed on the sofa. Even Nobodies needed sleep. He crossed his arms and let his eyes close. Just a little catnap…

“That is not a bed.” A sudden rebuke cut through the peace and quiet, and Axel startled awake.

“What…? Oh. Saïx.”

He can’t sleep because he’s always got something troubling him. And he startles easily.

“You just do what you want,” said Axel.

“What I want…? I don’t know what I want to do.”

Axel let out a long-suffering sigh. “Well, I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do. Sleep. And then maybe have a catnap and a snooze after that.”

“But you do that anyway,” said Roxas, still confused.

“Hey, I’d nap six times a day if they’d let me.”

How could anyone sleep that much? Roxas thought. I’d just have dreams that wear me out even more.

“Speaking of, I’d better get to it. Enjoy the break.”

Roxas can’t understand why he wants to sleep so much.

As he turned to go, Roxas grabbed his sleeve. “Wait, Axel…”

“Hey, c’mon, let me get some sleep.” Axel yawned, stretching his arms to emphasize his point.

That was when Xion happened to turn the corner, stopping in her tracks to stare at them. “Uh, what are you two doing?”

“Did you see that paper?” said Roxas.

“Yeah.”

“What are you gonna do, Xion?”

Axel yawned again through Roxas’s question. “If anyone cares, I was just getting back to bed.”

“Wh—? Oh. Okay.” Roxas nodded uncertainly as Axel sauntered off without another word. How can he be that sleepy…?

He finds it very unusual how sleepy Axel is all the time, and the novel makes a point of emphasizing this.

“Does going to sleep count?”

“What?! Axel, you wasted your whole day?”

“Hey, I needed the rest! I work hard on the job, unlike some people.”

“It’s not our fault you get tired so quick,” Xion shot back, and the three of them cracked up together.

He gets tired very easily.

“Doesn’t mean I have to tell you everything. Everybody’s got secrets.” The smirk hadn’t left Axel’s face, but his voice was low and solemn. “Got it memorized?”

“Secrets…?” Roxas repeated to himself. Do I have any of those?

Xion’s gaze dropped, as if her thoughts were wandering, too.

“Geez, you two. I’m kidding!”

The day he chose to sleep all day was their vacation. It’s the same day Axel brought up his “dark secrets”. He smiled, but his voice was low and solemn. His dark secrets are connected to his memories, and are the reason he doesn’t sleep well.

There was no one here yet. Guess I’m actually early…He was only up at this hour because he’d never gone to sleep, working through the night on his report of the mission in Castle Oblivion. But pulling an all-nighter to finish a report did not gain him a reprieve from missions. He twisted to look up at Kingdom Hearts shining outside the window.

“You’re here early,” said Saïx.

Axel waited a second before rolling over to face him. “So are you.”

“No, I’m not. You’re just usually late.” Saïx took up his usual post.

Saïx tells him he’s always late. Just like Roxas did on the clock tower.

Axel had barely gotten any sleep when he headed in early to the Grey Area. He might as well do his negotiating with Saïx about today’s mission without anyone else to overhear.

He’s torn between Saïx and Roxas and Xion. It’s why he sleeps so poorly.

Axel barely slept a wink thanks to all the thoughts turning in his head. He scowled at the throbbing pain in his temples. These sleep deprivation headaches were awful. Rather than going back to sleep and getting a lecture, he went to the Grey Area before anyone else and claimed the sofa to keep thinking.

Dealing with Saïx not only causes him so much worry he can’t sleep, he gets migraines, too.

Axel walked the hallways, trying to sort out his thoughts.

Another sleepless night. He shook his head slowly to dispel the grogginess, but it persisted as he combed through yesterday’s events.

The Organization wanted to have either Roxas or Xion eliminated. But what could he do about it? That was what Axel had to figure out.

He wanted to find a way to save both of them, to respect both of their feelings. He’d spent most of the night poring over the possibilities, but of course he hadn’t found the answer.

He pulls a lot of all-nighters because of his constant worrying over his friends. If this insomnia goes back to his human days, he probably worried over Isa constantly.

“Ugh, I’ve got enough on my plate.” He groaned, imagining Saïx’s face if he reported all this.

Those days as a trio had been so wonderful. Why did this have to happen?

The memory of his heart twinged. Had the breakdown of a friendship always been this painful? It was hard to tell when he didn’t have a heart anymore.

“Don’t wanna get up…”

But he dragged himself out of bed, taking a huge stretch and cricking his neck. He had to get to the Grey Area early if he wanted to talk to Saïx.

Most likely, today would be another bad day.

I think his inability to sleep was connected to his memories of the experiments, which were directly connected to his worrying over Isa and the pain of his friendship breaking down after Isa changed. He doesn’t want to get out of bed when he remembers how that felt. He tells himself he can’t tell if it was always this painful to lose a friendship, because he has no heart. He does that a lot. But I don’t think it’s that simple.

That means, the nobodies gathered as Organisation members once held strong hearts.

Really? Axel wondered to himself.Did that self in my memories really have a strong heart?Don’t really know.And then, nobodies without hearts wish for only one thing. A heart. If I was asked if I wanted a heart, I guess I’d answer that I did. But, do I really want a heart? Can a heart really fill this hollowness I’ve carried since I fell into existence as a nobody?

The chakras are deficient if they spin slowly. Its why Axel’s Ultimate Gear is called “Rapid Spinner”. His Crown chakra was definitely blocked along with his Third Eye chakra. It’s why he was so indecisive about his true purpose, lacking in joy, and had such limiting beliefs about everything. His problem with this chakra also related to Saïx and his memories of the past.

Shards of emotion, fragments of memory. So alike…but they’re completely different things.

Even if we can hold on to a few fragments of memory, we can’t have the smallest shard of emotion.

Nostalgia… And memory.

We are the ones who lost their hearts—the ones who are no one. Nobodies.

Not light nor darkness—we live in the twilight.

Axel stopped outside the crystal ball room and took a deep breath.

Why are we here? What are we doing?

No—why am I here?

Still asking himself that question, he opened the door.

He asks himself why he’s here when he starts reminiscing about the past. And he is confident he cannot feel any emotions.

The set of his shoulders told him plainly what the answer would be.

Axel realized how great the rift was between how he remembered their past and what he saw now.

Why am I even here? I don’t know anymore. What am I trying to do?

He feels so lost all the time.

But those connections were no more than memories of the past—Axel had never cared about anyone since becoming a Nobody. What was happening? Why was Roxas so important to him? Why was Sora?

He hadn’t cared about anyone since becoming a Nobody.

“Fear’s an emotion. It doesn’t exist for us.”

He truly couldn’t feel anything until he met Sora and Roxas.

“It’s because I don’t have a heart,” Axel went on. “I don’t want to disappear, but I’m not upset or sad about it.”

Naminé tried to say something and failed.

Nobodies aren’t supposed to exist. Nobodies don’t have hearts, so they can’t feel anything. No… We couldn’t feel anything. Until we met Sora. And Roxas, his Nobody. Why can’t the rest of them see that?

Watching Isa suffer was the main reason he was so emotionally dead inside. He couldn’t feel anything for so many years. Because is friend was so fucked up. If Isa hadn’t been so messed up, he would have been able to nurture a new heart right away, like he did with Roxas and Xion.

After watching them go, Axel stretched and turned to Saïx, expecting to see a scowl. But the expression had left Saïx’s face, leaving him as dispassionate as usual.

Of course, he had been faking it in the first place. Nobodies had no hearts; they only imitated what emotions they remembered. The very proof of their emptiness showed how desperately they each longed for a heart. Axel probably did the same thing himself without noticing, and yet, for some reason, when Saïx did it—or actually, any of the others—it seemed so out of place.

Maybe because it makes me realize how much effort we put into acting like we’re still human, Axel thought. It’s pointless.

Whenever Saïx acts emotionally dead, it makes Axel feel emotionally dead, too. He denies all of his feelings. He does it in the novels all the time. I think he’s being honest. He really has a hard time feeling emotions. He cannot differentiate between emotional numbness caused by trauma, and the lack of a heart as a Nobody. When he grows a heart, his depersonalization is still there because he’s been traumatized so badly. But he doesn’t realize this. He thinks he has no heart and is a bad person.

Roxas slumped over. “Why does he hate her so much…?”

Axel was a bit taken aback. Out of habit, Nobodies might say they liked or hated things, but none of them really had those emotions—not the way Roxas meant.

“What d’you mean by that?” Axel laughed. “You just can’t stop talking like a real person, can you?”

Then Roxas turned to him. “What did I say?” He seemed uncertain, his gaze wandering, and he hung his head again. “I don’t know how real people talk…,” he mumbled.

Roxas must feel like he doesn’t know anything, Axel thought. Well, I don’t have the best handle on things myself, but I’m slightly less clueless.

When the subject of Saïx’s lack of emotional capacity came up, he goes into a dissociated state and his feelings truly are numbed out.

Lea handed over some munny and took the two cones from Scrooge, one of which he gave to Isa.

“It’s cold…,” Isa muttered as he took a bite.

“What’re you talking about? It’s ice cream; of course it’s cold. Got it memorized?”

“Salty, too.”

“But sweet!”As Lea went on, Isa smiled just a bit. It’s rare to see Isa smile. But, well, friendship means eating ice cream together, talking about stupid things, and laughing like this.

It’s why he was so addicted to ice cream. I think it was significant that Isa smiled while complaining it was salty and Lea thinking to himself that Isa smiling was rare. He associated sea-salt ice cream with friendship and Isa being happy and smiling.

He’d never deluded himself that tracking down Riku would be easy, and neither had Saïx. It was just that if he went back and reported that he couldn’t find anything, he would have to deal with those attempts at “personality”—the sneers, the snide remarks, the only trappings of human emotion that Saïx ever showed. Not that Saïx was even capable of annoyance or disappointment, of course, what with the lack of a heart and all.

Heading up the slope to the station, Axel bit into the ice cream bar. “This stuff is so salty,” he murmured to himself, as he often did.

Something he never does anymore. He thinks it’s too salty, but eats it anyways. It helps him deal with Saïx’s lack of emotional capacity.

“Yo.”

Axel moved shakily up to Naminé, a hand pressed to his chest, and with a glance up at Riku, bit one of the ice creams she was still holding.

“Now that’s salty…,” he said in a small voice, and sank heavily into the chair. His breath was coming jaggedly.

Naminé rushed over, dropping one of the ice creams in her hand onto the floor.

More ice cream, and more dissociation from his feelings. He eats the ice cream after Saïx tried to kill him. He comments how salty it is here, too.

“Oh. Right… You really can taste the sea salt in this, huh?” Axel turned away, his shoulders shaking.

If he had no heart, then what were these feelings welling up in his chest supposed to be?

Sorrow and…happiness?

Axel didn’t have a handle on it. But maybe not understanding these things was part of having a heart.

I understand why he was so confused and thought he had no heart, despite the fact that he had emotions and was often aware that he did.

His only good friend—his best friend—Axel had arrived with two sea-salt ice cream pops.

During the scene where Axel says goodbye to Roxas, it mentions how he was his only good friend. If he’s thinking that Roxas was his only friend, he was obviously thinking about Isa in this moment, too. Roxas was not his only friend, lol.

Axel’s eyes crinkled as he remembered his own best friend—the only friend he’d ever had, in fact.

“If your best friend goes away, you’re sad, and if you get to be with them, you’re happy,” Naminé added. “Isn’t that how it is, Axel?”

“…That’s about the size of it.” Axel nodded and sat down on the remaining empty sofa, staring at the sea-salt ice cream he held.

“So you are capable of sincerity,” said Riku.

Axel only shrugged at the jab and finished his ice cream pop.

He did it here, too. He responded sadly and stared at the ice cream in his hand. Axel couldn’t get over his issues until Isa did. They were inseparable.

#leaisa #isalea

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