#I have also been told my accent is quite different when I read aloud.

[thewatercolours]

Podfic: "A Bitter Cup of Tea" by GerbilofTriumph

With permission of the author, a shabby but hopefully cheering narration of one of her ficlets! First time using Audacity, one take, no edits - being carried along by nothing but good will. Complete with terrible faux English accents (on purpose! that's the way the girls talk in the game!)

Her amazing blog full of King's Quest creativity can be found over here: @gerbiloftriumph

Original text here:

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 1- She Ran With Wolves

Bucky Barnes x powered (f)reader Series Re-write (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)

Summary: You’re a survivor, always have been and always will be. After narrowly escaping the clutches of Hydra years ago, you’ve been keeping to the shadows for as long as time allows. With Hydra suddenly exposed and your secrets in the open, you’re on the hunt for the last part of your past, but is he ready to see you again?

Warning: angst, talk of violence, some fluff mixed in (a little); way more to come

Masterlist

Side note- This is a TFATWS Series Re-write!!! Obviously lol, anyways. Readers powers are heavily inspired by a certain Marvel badass and I just thought her powers would work so well for this. Also they’re cool as fuck.

September, 15th 2013

Location: S.H.I.E.L.D Headquarters, Washington D.C.

This recent project Fury had sent her on was beginning to make itself quit the annoyance for Natasha this past of couple weeks, granted he always gave her the toughest assignments, understanding that no one else can dig up as much dirt as the Black Widow can.

But this? This was different, the target in question was practically a ghost, a legend among the ones lucky, or possibly unlucky enough to have been made aware of this dangerous individual. But no matter how much she asked around from her various secretive resources on the problem in question, this mystery person was simply just rumor to them. Or perhaps too much of a sour subject to seek into any further. Although one thing was always prevalent, people were scared.

But why?

The assassin leans back in her chair, a thoughtful expression crossing over her features as she stares bitterly down at the top secret file gifted to her by Fury himself. Suddenly a door closes, she shuts the file in an instant, only to be greeted with the apologetic face of Steve as he walks past her.

“Sorry. Fury told me you would be in here.” Begins Steve as he takes the nearby couch, something small and metal in his right hand, “Said you were assigned some impossible case. How’s it going so far?”

Letting out a jaded sigh, she shifts her gaze over to the window, “The absolute vagueness of this person is....frustrating to say the least. All I’ve been able to gather is that they’ve been part of some top secret experimentation on pregnant women. Somehow they’re involved with it....I just, gotta figure out how.” She adds with a conflicted expression dancing across her features.

Steve hums in thought, “Sounds complicated.”

“You have no idea.” Mutters Natasha unenthusiastically as her green irises shift back down to the annoying little file.

Steve palms the object in his hand before gaining his friends attention once again, “Here. Fury told me to give this to you.” Her brows furrow in thought as she reaches over and quickly accepts the strange hard drive looking object, “I think this will help. It has the location of the target and who they are. That’s it.....Well, the last reported location.”

“How did he?” She wonders aloud, face suddenly breaking out into an irked grin, “Fury you son of a bitch, about time I found a legitimate lead.”

——

Sitting on her comfortable apartment couch, Natasha sifts through the various encrypted files from the hard drive that’s currently plugged into her laptop. So far she’s spent about two hours breaking through the various encrypted file blockers and now at long last has finally made some real progress.

Studying the brightly glowing screen, she moves her finger, clicking another coded link that reads -V13X11- she’s immediately greeted with a black screen and the slightly blurred picture of a woman’s face who’s looking rather stoic and fearless against the camera flash. Her eyes are set and hard as stone, dark and almost angry behind lips that show the ghost of a forced smile. She’s noticeably an overall attractive woman, in kind of a terrifying and intimidating sort of way, like looking at a fierce lioness standing valiantly against a foe; nonetheless she stares defiantly at the person behind the camera. 

Her eye color, weight, date of birth, and presumably patient number, that's printed in big bold letters 00X13 on the glowing screen, right below her squared portrait. Furrowing her brows, Natasha scrolls down to see about a paragraph long of personal information given about the woman. Including, to the red heads tremendous surprise, a birth name, Y/N Valerious.

Oddly enough, the name indeed sounds a tad bit familiar, though she can’t quit place from where.

The file states that she was raised in a facility on the outskirts of Surinda, Russia; someplace in Siberia, close to the heart of the mammoth country. Trained by the organization Hydra and summitted into inhuman experimentation by the specific facility that held her, however the rest is all encrypted and impossible to translate into something comprehensible much to Natasha’s utter disappointment. 

Huffing in frustration, she slips out the hard drive before shutting down her laptop and slamming it shut. The room is darker by now with the sun gone, and tomorrow it appears that Natasha will be off to Sweden to confront this woman, Y/N, in hopes of gathering valuable intel into the people who created her, and any important information regarding her troubled past. 

If she’s willing to comply.

——

Closing your laptop, you stand and wander over to the opened window to stretch before taking a deep breath of freshly brisk winter air. The land here in Uppsala, Sweden is more beautiful and peaceful then you could have ever imagined since renting an apartment two months ago. In fact, this is probably the longest you’ve ever stayed in one spot since abandoning the life of an assassin many years ago.

Though you know it won’t be much longer until you leave again, but you can’t just yet, there happens to be a certain agent on her way to find you. Fury unknowingly received your encrypted hard drive with opened arms, foolishly under the impression it was sent from an old friend when he reached out for answers into your complicated history. Then when the Black Widow eventually clicked open your link, bam, you could see everything she was nosily sifting through. Everything you wanted her to see. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if something dramatic happened to the people over in D.C. at this point, idiots, all of them.

For the past couple years S.H.I.E.L.D has become sort of a troubling snooping nuisance for you, constantly delving their way into your relatively uneventful lifestyle every couple of months, meddling around to figure out if you’re still currently active for Hydra and if not, are you willing to pay for your crimes or to join them like she did. Definitely not on your to do list any time soon.

Watching as a small black bird zips by, you quickly shut your window and close the dark colored curtains to block yourself from the rest of the chaotic world. Hastily making your usual rounds about the apartment to be absolutely certain all the possible openings are locked. Soon after you head for bed, ready to face the ex-assassin whenever she arrives in the following days ahead.

-

Seated at your kitchen table, you casually sip at your steaming hot tea while watching security footage from downstairs from when you hacked into their system, the same night you began renting the place. As expected, the notorious red head slips her way into the building and up the four flights of stairs until finally a light knock is heard at your old wooden door.

So she wants to do this cleanly.

Switching off the device, you stuff it in a nearby drawer before calmly walking down the tiny hallway over to the frontdoor and opening it, lock off and all. Her green eyes blink in curious surprise as you show her no indications of aggression; she’s about your height if not maybe slightly smaller, thick scarf and a winters coat about her person as she holds a normal sized black bag in her right hand. No doubt a gun concealed somewhere close, a light precaution in case things go south from here.

Trailing your wary gaze from her travel bag to her pale face, you raise an intrigued brow, “I assume you’re here for me?” You ask with the tinge of a confident Eastern European accent as she slowly nods, eyes calculated and calm as she studies your mellow yet slightly defensive stance.

Pursing plush lips together, she casually shrugs with a light hearted smile, “I only realized you must have sent that hard drive when I arrived in London...”

“Well I’ve gotten rather bored running away from your persistent bastards over in America.” You interrupt before opening up your door even wider, gifting her an open invitation instead of a fight, “Come in. I assume we have much to discuss.”

Following you to the table, she sets her bag on the closest chair as you take another sip from your tea. Cautious eyes trained on her every move as she shifts a bit uncomfortably in her chair, “So, I assume you’re not here to sell me that pretty bag of yours. Not that I’d want it.”

She smirks at your blunt sarcasm, pleased to know you’ve at least got a sense of humor after all you’ve endured, “No. I’m here to learn about who created you and if there are any more. Y/N, I’m well aware of how dangerous you truly are...but given the fact that you’ve had time to adjust, and let me into your home willingly. I came seeking answers. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Folding your hands together, you tilt your head at her thoughtfully, “Well that’s good. I didn’t really want killing the Black Widow on my conscience, though I’d speculate a few would be relieved.” You quip with a playful smirk before your face turns serious again, “I’ll tell you about the fuckers who made me. Then you leave and never bother me again. Understood?” You add in almost a growl.

Handing you a polite smile, she nods in agreement, “Of course. You have my word.” You take another sip of your tea as she reaches into her bag, a beige file suddenly plants itself atop your kitchen table. “This is the only surviving file on you. It’s enough, but there’s too many cracks that need to be filled. I need to know how they conducted the experiments and who else survived them. This is important for the safety of S.H.I.E.L.D and the rest of the world. Y/N, we’re trying to make sure something like this can never happen again. And well, any secrets on Hydra always helps.”

Setting your cup down, you smirk, “This should be filled with liquor if I’m going to be spilling some top secret Hydra business of this velocity.” You muse, setting aside your mug, your face quickly shifts to a more serious expression. “For starters this isn’t a very heartwarming story.”

“Neither is mine.” Begrudgingly admits the ex-assassin.

“Well, at least we have something in common then, Black Widow.” You assert with a pointed look before leaning back against the barred wood of your chair, thinking of where to start first. Your eyes trail over to the window as you begin your story, “This place, where they kept us. The scientists working for Hydra wanted to test out special DNA altering serums on the embryos of willing participants. Well, we weren’t willing....but they targeted the poor, feigning a program that would pay these mothers-to-be thousands if they participated. Plus a comfortable place to stay for awhile.” You reveal before taking another sip of your tea, “You see, I’m not originally from Russia, my home was some nameless village in Eastern Europe that I’ve forgotten the name of by now, it was so long ago. But anyways, I guess fate has a funny way of administering it’s business to the ones seeking safety in times of struggle. So my mother...” You take another sip of your tea to help clear your throat and head a little bit, God you hate talking about this.

Setting it down again, you continue, “Mine accepted. They took her and twenty-two others to this facility deep in the woods. This place was practically a paradise for them...” You chuckle miserably, “soon enough the scientists pumped them full of drugs and began their altering of the embryos DNA, genetic codes, and whatever else they saw fit to mess with. Nine months later we came into this world kicking and screaming.”

“Shit.” Mutters Natasha in astonishment, fully engrossed in your story as she starts to realize maybe her upbringing wasn’t as fucked as yours.

“They monitored us for the first few months, waiting to see if anyone acted strange....nothing, to their utter disappointment. Soon they drew blood samples and as it turned out, we all had altered DNA from the serum. Just as they’d planned.”

Her brows furrow in puzzlement before she asks, “How’d you get your powers then? I don’t think I missed anything.” Insists your guest questionably as you shake your head.

“You didn’t. But you have to understand that as we grew older, all of us basically became tiny super soldiers as fucked as that is, not only did they change our genetic code for meddling with later on when we got older. But this serum was so well developed that it completely fused with the fetuses genetic code, only causing us to grow stronger as we aged from toddlers to three-year-old's and up. Testing even revealed that it slowed down our ageing process just like with Captain America. But it wouldn’t be effective till we reached our mid to late twenties.”

Natasha takes a moment to process your words before she nods in acknowledgment, “Y/N. It’s my understanding that this is a buried secret from the organization for good reason, it’s just....what year did this all take place? It’s not in any of the records I was able to dig up, not even in yours, nothing except for your date of birth.” States Natasha curiously, stopping you before you speak of anything else.

Nodding you lean your arms against the wooden table, leaning in a bit closer now, “1953, after World War ll when people where still recovering from the heavy aftermath while the Cold War was still raging on when well, you know.” Giving her a lopsided shrug, you glance from an old faded picture on the wall then back to her, “Lets just say Russia wasn’t exactly having a stellar time, nor was my mother for that matter.” You Conclude before aimlessly pursuing your lips together, “Which yes, makes me at around 60 years old. Don’t I look pretty.” You add, voice dripping in sarcasm.

Natasha’s eyes concede silent astonishment as she blinks back surprise, “Even after all these years doing what I do, meeting the people that I have. I’m still left speechless every once in awhile. Y/N I can’t even imagine what you’ve seen.” Reveals the red head honestly as her green irises flicker from your file then back up to you, a conflicted expression dancing across her features, “How did they...how did you gain your powers, aside from what the serum gave you in the process?”

An apprehensive sigh escapes freely from your lips while you lean back into the creaky old chair, a troubled look darkening your features as you avoid her intrigued gaze, “They waited until we were twelve before testing us....in the meantime we lived as normal children; learning, playing, and training to survive. You know, the typical stuff.” You add with a small breathy laugh, though no humor finds your eyes, “We had our mothers until a year before they began the experiments. But it wasn’t that terrible of a loss since they trained us to adapt to our environment and never fully depend on anyone but ourselves.....it’s sick. And I’m not even sure what they did to them, I guess I never will.”

She nods as you make a disgusted face, an acidic hatred rising in your chest at the thought of your childhood, “I’m sorry, I can’t even imagine how traumatic that must have been.”

“Oh believe me, it gets better.” You joke bitterly, “In pairs of two they tested us, putting us into rooms where two doctors would strap us down and stick a needle into our skin. After that, they waited until something dramatic happened. Oh, and it sure as fuck did.” You conclude with a sneer.

Biting her lip anxiously, Natasha asks anyway, “How many survivors?”

Scoffing, you shake your head in revulsion for what those doctors did to everyone, an angry expression soon crossing your features, “One.” You sourly mutter, “All my other friends died of the new serum they gave us, either right then and there on the table, or in the following days. You see, it was supposed to blend with our altered DNA to create something powerful out of it, something beyond humans normal capabilities. It just ended up horribly mutating everyone except for me.” You whisper, clear sadness and hatred coating your very words.

Your eyes stare sharply at the peeling table top paint, a frown on your lips as you take in a deep breath before continuing, “What they did to me....no one should have to go through something so goddamn agonizing, I was only a child, just a little girl in a terrible place whether I knew it or not....and you know how it affected me?” She slowly shakes her head no as you smile miserably, your brows furrowed in pain, “I was gifted with bone claws that retracted out of my knuckles and one from each of my feet.” You confirm, eyes suddenly darkening in fury, “And you know what those goddamn bastards did to me afterwards? Like I hadn’t suffered enough from the pain of it all, they pumped me full of liquid Adamantium. Turning my claws to solid metal, the fucking strongest material on earth. Right in the body of an eleven year old child!” You shout furiously as she flinches back at your outburst, blinking hard, you let out a heavy breath before leaning back into your chair in defeat.

Calm down, Y/N. It’s just a memory now.

Strong brows dent her clear skin in thought as you await a response, after a few long moments does she soon gather her racing mind, lacing her fingers together she raises a brow at you, “That doesn’t explain how you’ve survived so long. The years working for Hydra, they turned you into a weapon....yet you’ve escaped and haven’t been killed yet. Not even a scratch to be found.....well, at least that I can see.”

Turning to face the puzzled assassin, you give her a lopsided grin, your chill composure coming back to you quickly enough, “I didn’t just get claws from the enhanced serum that fucked with my genetic make-up, it completely heightened my humanly abilities. Suddenly I was stronger, faster, and all my senses felt like they were on overload. Best of it all, I came to realize I had accelerated healing capabilities. Who would have thought that their shitty inhuman experiments would have gone so horrendously, yet with the one miracle of an exception. Me.”

“I had figured that branch of Hydra was meddling on dangerous ground, I hadn’t realized the extent of what they were doing. Did they try making any more like you?” She wonders.

“I was the last. Since I was the only compatible vessel, they didn’t want to waste anymore time or money on others who could possibly fail.” You explain with a shrug, “I became one of their most treasured assets.”

Pursing her lips together, she gives a slight nod before revealing a different file from her bag, you watch as she pauses for a moment before opening it up, you quickly take notice of the many white papers pinned together. Some with encrypted symbols and words while others are in plain English. Your brows furrow as she flips the first page to reveal...

“I know I came asking for answers about classified information, but this won’t be a complete mission if I don’t ask you about your time with Hydra.” Proposes the red head cautiously while she studies your face for any hostile reactions, not getting anything but skepticism, she continues, “I understand you were very important to them. It’s recorded you’ve completed about three dozen kills over an active period of about thirty-seven years.”

You scoff before muttering, “So it would seem. They gave me my first mission in 1971...when I was 17.”

“Right, but that’s not exactly what I’m seeking.” Her eyes immediately trail down to the files, “I assume you must have seen this man at least once...” She flips another page over and pulls out a playing card sized photograph, she turns it around and slides it closer to you. Instantly you recognize who he is, but how did she?..

“I haven’t seen him in years, nor heard of him for that matter.” You mutter, though your tone shifts to a more aggravated one.

Noticing this difference, Natasha continues, “That’s the look of someone who has met him for less then friendly reasons. What happened to the Winter Soldier?” You take a long moment to study his stoic face of icy blue and white, and black; its when he was in the Cryostacis chamber, the place where they would freeze him to keep their Winter Soldier locked away until he was needed for a new mission. All that you can fully witness is his sleeping face, though you know exactly what he looks like up close and with no ice crystals in his dark hair.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you slide the photograph back over to her folder, “I met him when I was 25 in 1979, Hydra needed us for a duel mission somewhere in South Africa, they needed their best. We were tasked with locating and stealing some precious metal which we later learned was Vibranium, because apparently they had used the last of the Adamantium on me.” You reveal with a casual shrug, “It went relatively well as expected...and well, we worked with each other many times after that, until I escaped and he was sent to kill me in 2009.”

“You knew him for almost twenty-nine years. Do you know where he might be now?”

Scoffing, you almost laugh, “Even if I did, you’d never get him. But if I’d have to assume, he’s probably frozen in some cryo tank somewhere in the middle of Russia. Waiting to be let loose again so he can take out a new enemy of the state.”

“Right.” Nods the Black Widow as she closes up her files, her green irises quickly on you again, “Thank you for your time, and for the heavy material you spoke of.”

“It was a long time ago, someone else should remember what those fuckers did to innocent mothers and their children. No one in this entire world knows except for me, you, and the doctors I haven’t killed yet.” You growl with venom lacing your every word.

Soon you watch as she swiftly rises to her feet, as you do the same, “I wish you well then.” Affirms the Black Widow as you follow her lead to the door, she stands on the other side for a moment before asking, “Is there any way I could find you again?”

Leaning against the door frame, you break out into a knowing smirk as she stands waiting expectantly, “If you’re lucky, you’ll never see me again. Goodbye agent Romanoff.” And with that do you gently close the door, leaving her in the hallway with a plethora of useful information, but still nothing significantly useful on the Winter Soldier, now only time will tell if he ever happens to show up on her radar again. Hopefully not, she thinks doubtfully before turning on her heels and sauntering off down the hallway.

——

Almost two whole years had passed since last you’ve spoken to the assassin, in that time you’ve watched her speak on live television when Hydra had finally been exposed to the world and all their secrets let loose for the prying hungry eyes of the public.

Even some of your own information had been leaked, the world knew who you were now, what atrocities you’ve committed for the organization during your time with them and that you’ve been M.I.A since 2009. Now you’re on an international watchlist. Fantastic. Apparently some very important leaders of the world and other prestige family members alike aren’t very fond of yourself for murdering their adversaries or filthy rich husbands. 

But it’s not like you had a choice, Hydra would always alter your memories when they shocked you into forgetting who you even were; thus you’d complete a mission and a couple days or so later would your mind stitch itself back together again the best it could from the electrical trauma. Only the killing part would be a dark and fuzzy memory, thus revealing itself to you in bits and pieces at a time. Soon everything blurred together and you just complied or face getting electrocuted multiple times a session, until your eyes remained empty and dangerous.

Considering you’ve been on the run since that information was released, in this time, you’ve tracked down past agents and doctors alike who had wronged you, considering you now had full access to their recent history. Hence increasing your body count as you went from one country to the next, making the world a tad bit lighter with their darkness whipped from existence.

Although soon enough you became unsettled with the loads of information expunged from Hydra, your mind inevitably making a one eighty back to a certain broody super soldier from your complicated past. He must be in the world somewhere, living as a secret civilian or whatnot. He has to be. And you’ve decided to find him before someone else does.

Maybe it was curiosity, or the fact that he was like you and shared a bloody history with Hydra, but your instinctual drive to find the Winter Soldier eventually drew you the beautiful city of Bucharest, Romania. Although he didn’t make finding him effortless in the slightest, after endless days hacking into network databases looking for even a snippet of information. You found a lead.

Turns out airport security footage is very useful, even more so, footage from around the city’s grant center; and from there you were able to track him to Romania. Eventually after a couple of days in the city, you were able to catch a glimpse of him at the local market place and thus followed him to his little shitty apartment without him as so much as noticing.

Once he left again, you slipped inside and began your wait for his eventual return. But will he even want to speak with you? Does he even remember you? Your memories hadn’t been continuously whipped like his were, granted you were forced into cryo more then once and electroshocked into forgetting your memories. It eventfully stopped once they realized your mind would just heal itself into remembering again, so instead they threatened you with a tracking device deep into your skin tissue that would blow up if you tried to run.

Clearly you eventually found a way around this, as terrible of a memory it gave you.

——

Looking out the window, your ears suddenly pick up the sound of boots stealthily walking down the hallway, they’re incredibly light against the tiles outside, perhaps he somehow knows you’ve been following him. A moment later the scent of a man fills your nostrils and you know he’s inside the apartment. You could barely hear the door.

He’s silent as a mouse, nothing indicating he’s even there except for his rapidly thudding heartbeat that pounds anxiously against his strong chest; you slowly turn to face him. His hat from earlier is gone, dark blue eyes stare warily on you while soft breaths emit from his slightly parted lips. He’s not afraid, but he is nervous.

Folding your arms over your chest, you take a glance around the room, “Nice place.” You confirm casually, eyes back on the Winter Soldier in a second as the corner of your lips pull into a humored half grin, “I’m not here to complete some personal Vendetta against you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Then why are you here?” His voice is more curious then cold, maybe he can be reasoned with after all.

Taking a step forward, you shrug, “Wanted to make sure you aren’t still on their side.”

He keeps silent for a moment as you watch him watch you, “I’m done with them.” Mutters Bucky, disgust dripping off his words. That’s exactly what you wanted to hear. Progress.

“Good.” You add with the tiniest of smiles before motioning towards his little kitchen table, “Mind if we sit and talk? As, well...I guess civilians now.”

Studying your face for any indication of falseness and hostility, he’s pleasantly surprised when he finds none. Bucky takes off both of his gloves and sits, metal hand shinning in the low lighting. A threat or a precaution? Maybe he just wants it off?

You follow his example, and soon the two of you sit not even three feet away from each other. Both yourself and Bucky hold an awkward silence for a long moment as the tension in the room rises, shifting your gaze from the counter behind him, you don’t really notice as he trails his eyes over your face, “I remember you.” Reveals Bucky to your great surprise, your eyes falling onto him in an instant, “They sent us on missions together, until you left and they woke me up to kill you for it.”

Smiling, you let out a humored breath of air, “Turns out you didn’t miss me after all. I gave you a nice scar for your troubles though, you still have it?”

Bucky purses his lips into the tiniest of shadowy grins, although no real joy is shown, “It’s a thin little line across my left rib cage. Just barely reached my bone.” Yeah, and I would have if you didn’t punch me in the eye socket first, you think to yourself from when the Winter Soldier had tracked you down. But that’s a long story.

“Glad it’s healed and they didn’t have you come after me a second time. I don’t think I would have let you live again.”

He thinks hard for a second as he processes your words, “You let me live? The first time?”

“Well,” You serenely admit, “I couldn’t exactly kill you...I guess, well....I don’t really know why I didn’t kill you when I had the chance. Guess I’m not as ruthless as Hydra wanted.” You mumble with a conflicted frown, the two of you keep silent before you break the odd tension, “Doesn’t matter now. I heard about what happened in D.C. just like the rest of the world. Gotta say, I was wondering what everyone over there had been getting themselves into.”

“They leaked everything.” Mumbles Bucky with a knowing flash of insight within his dark restless eyes.

“I know.” You add with a slow nod, “I’ve been traveling more cautiously for the past year and a half now. You’d think they’d let us live in peace, of course not. But I guess it means the world knows what a piece of shit organization Hydra is. So that’s something.”

“Yes.” Agrees Bucky, eyes trailing from your fingerless gloves to your face, of course he remembers what hides beneath, “What happened to you since you left?

Fumbling with your fingers as they lay against his table, you turn you head to the window, the ghost of a smile dancing across your lips, “Surviving. You?”

He shifts his gaze back down to his metal hand as you turn to face him, “About the same I’d say.”

Leaning back against your creaky wooden chair, you hand him a small yet friendly smile, “Well then. What of us now? Two ex-assassins alone in the world. With nothing but our wit and fists to keep us afloat.” You add with a low chuckle, he doesn’t crack.

Losing your smile, the two of you keep silent as ghosts for a long moment before Bucky shifts uncomfortably in his seat, “I got some tea.” Replies the admittedly handsome man now since you have a moment to really look; the briefest hint of a grin revealing itself against his lips for only but a flash of a second. But you still see it.

Fumbling with your fingers you give him a pursed lip grin, “I like tea.”

[pascalpanic]

Blood, Sweat, and Tears (Javier Peña x f!Reader)- Chapter One

Summary: You live in Bogotá in the ‘90s, and work odd hours. No, you’re not a DEA agent, but a nurse. These odd hours prompt odd habits, like working out at 2:03 A.M. after a shift. Odd hours attract odd people, and you have a chance encounter with one DEA agent by the name of Javier Peña. Warnings: language, blood and violence (both graphic), descriptions of death and gun violence Chapter 1 W/C: 2.3K A/N: you guys! I am so in love with this fic. I already have quite a bit more written and can’t wait for you to read it! I hope you love it as much as I do! Javi deserves some softness... but not too much. this can’t all be fluff when you’re Javier Peña. Okay, this is not super canon-fitting of Narcos, I’m just gonna be honest with y’all. This is between the time of Escobar’s escape from La Catedral and his final capture and death, but also… Connie’s still in Colombia. Additionally, I don’t really have a year in mind, it’s just somewhere in that period. Please note that this is not a very lighthearted story- it begins with a death, though not of a significant character. Javier and reader both have some trauma, so please check the warnings of each chapter before you start reading. If you’re continuing on, I hope you like it! For the most part, if I use italics here when someone is speaking, it’s indicating that it’s in Spanish. I’m okay at the language, but I don’t want to butcher anything, so… just imagine it. Otherwise, it’s just the way anyone would use italics I guess.

next chapter

Chapter One

You watched a woman you didn’t know die in your arms tonight.

 She was beautiful, all dressed up to go out and party, her makeup running down her face with tears. Her lips were the painted the color of the blood that trickled from the side of them, eyes glazing over as she coughed and coughed and ruined the beautiful dress she wore. The nurses had asked what happened, and she had told them, through gurgles of blood: she had slept with one of Escobar’s men. She got too close, learned too much, and they tracked her down. 

She flatlined not long after telling the nurses around you. You had stood in the corner, paralyzed at first. You were an experienced ER nurse, nothing was new. You had seen patients die, but something about her was different. Maybe it was the way she reached out to you right before her body went limp. You didn’t make it to her bedside in time to calm her, the panic holding you down, but you finally took her hand right as she took her last breath. 

After she passed, you threw up in the bathroom, shaking and clutching the toilet. The night air had grown unbearably hot and humid, causing your scrubs to cling to your skin, and the sweat from the heaving of your stomach didn’t make things easier on you. Lorena, a fellow nurse and your best friend at work, had found you and comforted you, rubbing your back and bringing you water. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t reverse what had happened. 

Now, you sit on a bench in the staff’s locker room, redoing the ponytail holding your hair from your damp face. Your shift ended a few minutes ago, but you don’t know what to do now. You don’t feel like drinking; that would only make the visions swimming in your head worse. You know you can’t go home, can’t attempt to find sleep tonight. You look up and spot a bag with tennis shoes and spare clothing and settle your mind on at least one thing: the gym could do you some good. You change into the clothes and put the blood-spattered scrubs in the laundry pile. 

As you leave, you give Lorena a little wave goodbye and exit the building. You’re hyper-aware of your surroundings tonight, and you groan as you look at your watch and notice that it’s precisely 2:09 A.M. here in Bogotá. The walk to your fitness club is short, but your step is slightly extra hurried and your hand is on your pepper spray the entire time, extra vigilant to the fact that a hit went down somewhere around here just a few hours earlier. Surprisingly enough, no one catcalls or bugs you tonight. 

The little gym is run-down and dilapidated, and there’s no working air conditioning, but it’s the only one near you. You paid the small monthly membership fee to gain access, and you were going to use it to get in shape, you’d decided. As you swipe in and enter, the tiny fitness center looks more depressing in the fluorescent lights, no daylight to sugarcoat the atrocities of the center. There are two of every machine, a punching bag and a speed bag, two weightlifting racks, and a couple of benches. 

It’s nice that you get to work out alone tonight, you tell yourself. Even better is the fact that you now get to control the music. Desperate for a taste of home, you flip the large boombox in the corner on and begin scanning the airwaves with the dial. There’s a station in town that plays American music, and you need it more than anything tonight. You listen carefully and nearly start sobbing again as you hear Billy Joel’s voice through the speakers. With a sigh of relief, you lock your bag in the rusty lockers in the corner and head to the treadmill. It’s a beat up old thing, but this is the one you always use. It provides a little bit of comfort tonight, the familiarity of it. You turn it on low and start walking. A few moments later, you up it to a jog, mouthing along to the words of the familiar song. 

As the song ends, you push the buttons enough to enter a running speed. Your feet slam into the treadmill harder than normal tonight, feeling as overwhelmed as when you left the hospital. Your body finally works up a sweat, the physical stress overwhelming the mental stress. 

As the events of tonight replay in your head to some other song from the late 80’s, your eyes start to water. Everything was so overwhelming, and your mind is just starting to process it. You finally allow the tears to fall, mixing with the sweat coating your cheeks. It’s hard to tell which is causing more of the mess, but you let yourself cry it out as you run for the next few minutes. 

The next song that comes on is Venus by Bananarama. You almost chuckle at the fact that it’s a few years old by now, but the song is comforting. It reminds you of home, of a time before you had issues like these. You slow down the treadmill a little, singing to the words aloud once you catch your breath enough. Daring to do a little spin on the rolling surface, you groove along to the music, chuckling a little

After the first chorus, you hear a creaking noise and whip around to find a man standing in the doorway. “Jesus fucking Christ!” You shout before you can stop yourself, hopping off the treadmill and onto the non-moving one before you get flung off. Your heart is pounding from the running, only intensifying the adrenaline rush from the scare. 

The man chuckles a little, but the smile on his face doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s tired- of course he is, it’s now 2:30 in the morning. “Lo siento,” you offer in Spanish, cringing at yourself and your reaction just now. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here this late,” you stutter, still panting from the running. He shakes his head lightly. “You’re American,” he says simply. In English, in a beautifully American accented voice.

Your sweaty brow furrows, a glimmer of hope sparking inside your chest as you notice that he speaks like an American himself. “So are you.”

He nods at that. “That I am,” he says as he puts his things in a locker, snapping it shut behind him. He looks at you for a moment. You’re not working at the Embassy, or he’d know you. It was rare to find an American down here that wasn’t working for the government somehow. He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, looking at how tired he appears in the big mirrored wall. He’s curious, but he’s exhausted. 

You look at him for a moment. “You going to explain anything, like, tell me about yourself? Or do I have to go first?” You ask, hands on your waist as you hop back on the slowly moving treadmill, back into moving. He doesn’t respond. “Fine. I know you’re government. I’m not an idiot.”

He chuckles and tugs on his t-shirt, moving to the treadmill next to you and getting on. It’s been ages since you’ve held a conversation in English, and you missed this, missed how easily your first language flows from your mouth. “And you’re not.”

“Correct,” you nod, turning up the speed a little on the machine until you’re at a light jog. “My bigger concern was going to be why you’re here at 2-fucking-30, but I’m guessing I know the answer. You get called in around here for the hit?” He nods, starting the treadmill up and walking on it. 

“You don’t have to be so guarded, Jesus. I fucking hate Escobar, I’m on your side,” you scoff before turning up the machine until you’re running once more.

Javier shrugs. “Makes sense. How did you know-”

“She died,” you say quickly and firmly, keeping your eyes straight ahead and looking at the room around you. “Add that to your file.”

He nods, understanding a little more now. You knew her somehow. He doesn’t say a word either, cranking up the machine and heading into a jog too.

A few more minutes pass of the two of you silently running next to each other, the American music still playing throughout the gym. It’s a comfort to Javier too. Tonight was shit for the DEA- they had known Escobar’s men would be around here. They had the intel, they had everything ready, but the men somehow had escaped and left a victim in their wake. 

The frustration of everything, of the man being something close to home for you yet being a brick wall, threatens your eyes with welling tears again. “I just wanted to talk with an American,” you sigh and cross your arms, moving back into the walking stage of a treadmill. 

The man next to you gives a similar sigh, stopping his treadmill completely and offering you a hand. “Javier Peña.” You take it reluctantly, feeling the sweat of both of your hands mix, and tell him your name before retracting it and stopping the treadmill too. “So, what brings you to the gym at 2:30?” He asks, crossing his arms and leaning against the center part of the treadmill. 

“I’m a nurse. I work the graveyard shift. Bad night, a patient died because she got fucking shot for having a boyfriend and not knowing he was a narco, I need to get something out, I come here,” you shrug, unconsciously mimicking him by folding your arms as well. 

He nods at that. “I’m here for the same. Shitty stakeout, I’m pissed off, I come here.” He leaves out the part about his favorite call girl being taken, and how he needed another way to get the rage inside of him out. He walks off of the treadmill and to the weight rack, pulling a bench beneath the bar.

You turn again and turn the machine back on, slowly jogging. “I see. Odd hours to be here, that’s why I asked,” you say simply. “And to see another American at such a time. I haven’t interacted with one since I came here.”

Javier nods, adjusting the weights on the bar. “Yeah. Weird,” he nods. “And that you’re an American who isn’t working for the government and you’re down here. What, you got a husband who works for us?”

You shake your head, swallowing hard for a moment. “No, don’t have a husband in the first place,” you admit, adjusting the ponytail holding your hair up. “It’s a long story.”

“We got time,” he shrugs as he gets on the bench beneath the rack, looking at you in the mirrored wall. Even with the sweat and the stress of working out, he notices that you’re gorgeous. You have a nice body, and even your face is pretty while you’re working out.

You shake your head. “Fine, if you really want to hear it.”

“Might as well. It’s that or more of this fucking Wham! music, and I’m sick of George Michael.”

“First of all, first person here gets the music, so mind your manners.” This finally earns a chuckle from the man, and you want to smile but it just can’t come. “I came down here with a man. He’s a citizen here. We were going to get married, but he left me. That was a couple of months ago now,” you admit, the tears beading in the corner of your eye again. “My work visa was still valid, and I renewed it so I can keep working at the hospital. I don’t really have anyone down here except the girls I work with, but I like helping out. They need me.” He nods a little as he listens, breaking his focus as he starts his reps with the bar.

“And you’re government, so that explains everything I need to know about you,” you continue to babble. “One of the girls I work with has a husband who’s at the Embassy. Murphy,” you say offhandedly. 

Javier’s attention is caught, and he sets the bar on the rack. “Murphy?” He asks, and you turn your head to look at him and give him a nod. “No shit. That’s my partner.”

You chuckle slightly and look back at him, stopping the treadmill. “So you know Connie?”

Javi nods. “Yeah, great gal. She could do better than Steve,” he says, sitting up.

You laugh softly at that. “From what I’ve heard of him, I agree. She’s a really great girl, you’re right,” you nod in agreement, looking back at him. “She’s never mentioned you. She says her husband’s in janitorial, but we all know that’s not true. What, you guys CIA? DEA?”

Javier nods again. “DEA.”

“I see,” you say, folding your arms and leaning against the machine. “Can’t make you many friends around here. I learned pretty quickly to keep my mouth shut about being a gringa. They can usually tell though.”

“You’re right,” he chuckles and cracks his back.

You bite your lip as you look at him, your voice watery when you can finally speak again, suddenly overwhelmed by emotion again. “It’s nice to talk to someone in English again,” you admit with a forced smile. 

He can read your eyes easily. You’re a nurse, and you told him that the victim died. You saw it. “It is,” he nods, reading your pain and trying to show you he empathizes with it. Your eyes are beautiful, he notices as he looks into them. So much more hope and trust than anyone else he works with, but the pain in them is unbearable. He looks away, leaning back on the bench to lift again.

“So where you from in the States?” You finally ask when the silence is too long. 

“Laredo, Texas,” he chuckles. “Yourself?”

[this-idiots-left-eye]

I'd love to see more fics exploring Noé & Domi (not necessarily in a shipping light, though I do love those two. It's the ~history~ y'know! *chef's kiss*). But I also agree, Roland & Olivier are two characters that would be really fun to explore. What are they doing when they break out of chasseur mode? I find it amusing that Olivier is so popular with the ladies but can't be bothered by all that. Heh!

Hey there! I'm so so sorry it took me forever to get to your prompt!! I loved it and fully intended to return to it...but my inspiration sort of left as soon as it came.

So I thought maybe I'd use some of these prompts for the vnc countdown since it's giving me some more! I hope that's alright!

Enjoy!

Noé’s brow was creased, his hand to his chin,

“If you keep thinking that hard, your thoughts might decide to start walking out of your head.”

“Sorry, Teacher.”

“No need to apologize,” his teacher laughed, more than anything at Noés mundane reaction at such a strange statement, “I just thought your head might appreciate a little relief. Come now, let’s look at the options over here!“ He beckoned him to the next part of the store. “What do you think?”

Noé observed the dresses towering above him, trying not to think too hard this time. He didn’t want to say he didn’t like them till he gave them a proper think over.

Then he turned to the side…and saw it.

A dress of brilliant gold, with flowers, butterflies and bows—though nothing too terribly lavish, just perfect little accents.

Noé’s eyes became stars, and his hands became triumphant fists at his sides.

“That one.” He pointed like an explorer who’d found land.

His Teacher raised an eyebrow, lifting his head to find the object of fascination. “Ah! You have taste, my dear Noé! A fine piece!”—He called for assistance—“Our dear Dominique will look lovely in that.”

He agreed. Even with her hair like that, and her eyes all sad, she would look beautiful in this. He could only hope she would be able to see it too.

*

Noé sat in a chair in Dominique’s room, swinging his legs back and forth, waiting patiently, but determinedly.

Domi came in what might have been minutes, but felt like hours later. It still made him sad to see her hair so short, and her eyes ever glazed. Gold looked better when it was allowed to shine.

She was still wearing Louis’ waistcoat.

Noé shot up at her arrival and Domi’s eyes widened upon seeing him there.

“I have—!" He fumbled with the box, almost dropping it, but managed to regain composure, holding it out to her. “I have something for you!”

Domi didn’t say anything. The curiosity in her eyes was almost imperceptible beneath that glaze, but it was there. She took the lid off the box and observed the article within. Her eyes widened, and she looked from it to Noé.

“Domi, would you please join me for dinner tonight?”

“Huh? We always have dinner together.” Her voice was low and soft.

He smiled, though there was something sad in his eyes at hearing her voice. “Yes, but tonight’s special! I know this request might seem a little strange, but I would like you to meet me in the woods later!” He pulled a badly drawn map of the forest out of his pocket and pointed at an over-exaggerated X on it. “At this location!” He looked up at her, and the look in his eyes told her she couldn’t refuse. “Will you?”

Domi’s brow furrowed. “You haven’t lost it have you, Noé?”

“Please let me know if I have! Teacher says if I think too hard my thoughts might walk right out of my head!”

“He was just saying that.”

“We can only hope, but I still don’t want to chance it.”

*

Domi’s thoughts frayed as she looked at herself in that golden dress. Like a rope that isn’t quite sure it can hold onto anything.

It was Louis. It was supposed to be Louis.

Why did they pick her? Why? Why was he cursed, and she blessed? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair they had to choose. Choices were for ice cream flavors, and what book you wanted to read, not for brothers and sisters.

Not for twins.

That word gummed up her mouth, even when she didn’t say it aloud.

Twins. She and Louis, twins. Part of her still couldn’t believe it, and the other part of her could only believe it.

That word had one benefit. With her hair cut, and wearing his clothes, she could pass for him.

Which was surely what everyone wanted. All as it should have been.

She could pretend to be Louis. And pretending to be Louis was…better that truly being Domi…wasn’t it?

So…why did Noé want her to wear this dress? Didn’t Noé prefer her looking like Louis?

“I like it when you have your hair long too. It feels so much like you’re Domi, then, and…I really like it.”

Or perhaps…

Would he like that? Would he really?

She looked at herself in this dress and she thought in some far-off part of her brain that, perhaps she was beautiful. And perhaps he picked this dress because he knew she would like it, and he knew she would look nice in it.

But she would have looked better in it if her hair were longer.

*

Noé was so glad to have Domi.

He missed Louis, and he wanted Louis back, certainly. But he was glad to have Domi, and he wanted Domi to be, well, Domi. She was no pale imitation of her brother, and didn’t deserve to be treated as such.

It made him so sad to see her cut her hair, and put herself in Louis’ clothes. It made him so sad that she thought that’s what she was, what they all wanted.

He had to show her he appreciated her.

He waited in his chair at the table with equally determined, yet barely simmering excitement.

Noé had once read a book Teacher brought from the human world in which a group of mad characters had tea in the forest. Noé thought it was rather fantastic idea, and asked Teacher if they could accomplish such a thing. The table had to be long, and the tea had to be all over it, with lots of cakes too. Teacher laughed, said What an amusing notion, and that he was sure he could set something up.

Noé wasn’t sure exactly how, but when he and Murr entered the forest, was delighted to find it almost exactly as he’d pictured. (Okay, not exactly. There was more substantial dinner food than tea, and not nearly enough desserts, but still.)

When Domi came through the forest Noé stood up, like she was a princess who deserved respect. And he wouldn’t say she didn’t look like it; he had made the right choice. The short hair looked kind of nice with it.

“You look great!” He pumped his fist at his side again.

Domi looked at the ground, but brushed her hair behind her ear.

“Why are we doing this?” She asked, but her eyes scanned the table and the dishes with that barely perceptible curiosity.

“It’s for you!”

“I mean what are we celebrating?”

“Uhh, we’re celebrating you, then, I guess!” Noé continued determinedly, pulling out a chair for Domi, as Teacher poured some blood into her goblet.

“But it’s not my birthday.” She continued looking at the setup as she sat down.

“Why does it have to be for us to want to celebrate you?” Noé sat down in another chair next to hers.

Domi’s eyes widened, and her eyes changed as she observed the table, becoming more awed, with an almost tearful shimmer to them.

When she turned back to look at Noé, for the first time since Louis’ death, he thought he really was really seeing Domi.

* Fin *

I really hope you like what I came up with! I had hoped it would be longer but I do really like the idea. And please do send me another prompt if you were hoping for something different, or else have a new idea!

Oh also, I realized after I wrote it that it's possible Noé couldn't leave the manor at that age, but I don't remember, and I didn't want to change the beginning since I realized this when I was about to post

For Roland and Olivier, I don't have something ready quite yet, but I am working on something, and I thought I'd post a snippet here for you! I'm honestly quite proud of this XD

Olivier was having a perfectly satisfactory morning. His coffee smelled just the right shade of black, and was perfectly scalding. He brought a book he’d been hoping to read for a while, but hadn’t had the time for. He lit a cigarette, and the smoke was as decadent to him as any dessert. He was just opening up said book, just bringing the cigarette to his lips when—

“OLIVIER!”

Oliver didn’t jump. Didn’t shout or otherwise react in surprise at the sudden disruption to his morning. Instead, very slowly, he closed the book, very carefully he set down his coffee. Very slowly, he lifted the cigarette and took a long drag, blowing out a wisp of smoke.

And he silently regretted (not for the first time) telling Roland where his favorite coffee shop was.

Question. For this Roland and Olivier fic, would you be more interested in reading about them running around trying to help someone find their lost pet, or a fic exploring them going to fly that small aircraft Roland was talking about? Or do you have another idea for what Roland might be worked up about? XD Feel free to put it in my ask box, I could always put this fic with that ask!

Thanks so much for sending me this prompt!!

[thedevildomdaily]

Demonic Possessions Chapter 7: Her Favorite Color

Note: Here’s the Master List for the full story. I recommend reading my stuff on my actual Blog if you enjoy OM! official music! Thank you so much for the support. Please let me hear from you in the comment section. I wanna talk OM!

Warnings: Swearing, NSFW (I told you I’d get to it soon lol)

“For the last time… I.DON’T. KNOW!!!”

It was another chaotic morning in the House of Lamentation. It was hard for Lucifer to believe that his home could become any more turbulent and disordered than it had been for the centuries that he and his younger brothers arrived in the Devildom. The arrival of the nephilim proved otherwise.

He sat at his seat in the dining room with his eyes closed, cup of coffee in hand; his posed as regal and reserved as usual, giving a false sense of calm. Lilly sat at his left, stealing a glance at him to see if he was going to do anything about the riot in progress in the attic.

The other residents looked up at the swinging chandelier, flinched at the occasional slamming of objects, and the slur of unbecoming language being exchanged between the eldest and youngest nephilim.

“I have a notion as to why their kind was expelled out of the Celestial Kingdom…” Satan said aloud as he took a bite of toast.”

Mammon scratched his head and looked at Asmodeus, “And why exactly are they try’n to kill each other this morning?”

“Oh!” The lustful demon chuckled, “It’s quite simple really. They are arguing over the color pallet of the room.”

“You’re tell’n me they are screaming over paint colors all mornin, wake’n me up so damn early!?” Mammon gritted his teeth.

“It’s kind of a big deal though…” Asmo explained, “The colors of your wall not only set the mood for the room, but also dictate the color of everything else in the room: curtains, comforters, accent pillows, rugs, the furniture itself...and then you have to consider the theme! Are you going modern, Victorian, futuristic? It’s actually a very serious situation. I remember when my bathroom was painted eggshell and not silverscreen! I was furious and nearly murdered my interior designer…”

Mammon stared at his younger brother, judging him for how serious he was about that incident. Lucifer had to intervene on the account that the designer in question was the royal designer in charge of the decor for social gatherings in the castle. Diavolo would’ve been upset if his designer was flayed to death.

When silence finally fell upon them, the brothers and Lilly sighed collectively before continuing the morning meal. Then entered Lena.

Mammon jumped at the door flying open near him. Satan, Belphegor, and Asmo laughed and teased their older brother’s reaction.

“Damn psychopath….” Lena muttered to herself with grit teeth as she pulled her chair back and sat down with extra force. She began to quickly grab at food, tossing it onto her plate, knowing she had to act fast before Beelzabub devoured everything.

The nephilim felt eyes upon her, but she didn’t address anyone at first. She just continued to get her food and began to eat.

With a mischievous grin, Amso was the first to break the silence, “Leee-nnnaaa...I missed snuggling with you last night…” He gave wink at her when she glanced in his direction. “Are you really okay with crashing on Lilly’s couch?”

“Not really, but it looks like I’ll be sleeping there for a while longer.” Lena stabbed into her scrambled eggs in anger, “Azriel has flooded my brain with so many decisions about colors and I’m about to scream…”

“And what was that a moment ago?” Mammon dared to ask.

A black aura formed around the nephilim and her eyes glared heavily at the second eldest demon, “A warning that apparently isn’t being heeded…” the greedy brother gulped and looked back down at his nearly empty plate.

“Seriously though, I’m so sorry. I’ve brought a lot of chaos into your home in the form of my brother…” her eyes raised to look at everyone and fell upon an indifferent Lucifer. “And sorry for waking everyone up so early this morning.”

“It’s okay...we’re totally used to this kinda of commotion...right guys?” Lilly responded, looking around to get others to join in.

“Oh um…” Leviathan’s face got red, “Y-yeah...usually it’s Mammon causing the Chaos...so this is really a nice change!”

Asmo and Satan chimed-in, agreeing with their older brother. Belphie yawned and nodded while Beel kept chowing down. It made Lilly calm down, glad her apology was accepted. Only Lucifer neglected to acknowledge or accept her apology. Well that and Mammon pouted at being picked on by everyone again.

************************************

Lena lingered in her last class of the day. She was looking at her phone, researching color options for her room. She promised her brother that she would reach a decision by the time she got back home to the House of Lamentation.

Not paying attention to where she was walking, the nephilim bumped into what felt like a brick wall. She quickly stumbled back and looked up. It was Lord Diavolo, accompanied by his stewart, Barbatos. Was everyone over a foot taller than her? No, the angel baby wasn’t.

“S-sorry Lord Diavolo!” Lena said with a clear look of embarrassment across her face. There was something about the prince that made her feel timid and jittery. Definitely unable to look him directly in the eye. It was so unlike her. “I should’ve paid more attention to where I’m going and not at my DDD…”

“It’s quite alright. The halls are empty now so the percentage of you walking into someone was extremely low…” he responded with a chuckle in his voice. He was always smiling and in good spirits. He also had this knowing expression in his eyes. Yeah, that’s what had her frazzled. His expression...and not those broad shoulders or the muscles that peaked through his school uniform shirt. Not his massive size and confident aura...and now she was staring at his tie.

“Miss Lena...are you okay?” he asked, seeing how she was spacing-out while glancing up at him.

“Oh uhm, I...I was just deep in thought about...COLOR CHOICES! Yes, color choices. I have no idea what to pick and I can’t go back to the House of Lamentation until I have or my brother will go off again…”

Diavolo chuckled and exchanged looks with Barbatos. The prince’s stewart gave Lena a very calming smile and asked, “If you don’t mind, may we see the colors you're considering? We could give you our opinion.”

Lena regained some of her composure and turned her DDD so the two powerful demons could take a look. “See, Azriel went overboard as usual. Now I know the difference between 99% of these colors; the tones lean to one side or another and the values vary going this way...I love color theory as an artist myself so it’s a really hard decision for either of us to decide on.”

Giving it a serious thought, Lord Diavolo took the nephilim’s phone to hold it closer. His large hand overlapped Lena’s, causing a deep crimson to spread across her normally snow white complexion. If he noticed, the prince didn’t give an indication. Barbatos smiled as usual and used his fist to cough slightly, catching his Master’s attention.

Looking back down at the blushing nephilim who’s arm was raised high at him and then to Barbatos, the demon prince chuckled and lowered his hand and gave an apology. “Well I’m not so versed in color theory, but these group of colors here really catch my attention. What do you think Barbatos?”

“A splendid choice.” he agreed, “And you might consider using these colors as accents once the room has been painted…”

“Barbatos is in charge of all decorating in the castle. His tastes are superb and he’s never let me down when setting up for events.” the prince boasted.

Lena thanked them both after looking at the colors they selected. “You guys are onto something with these. Thank you guys so much! I was afraid I might have to just camp out here tonight!” she chuckled.

“What are they onto?” A sudden voice boomed from the shadowy hallway behind the prince. Suddenly Lucifer came into view. He looked down at Lena with a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

“Oh Luci! We just helped narrow down some color choices for Lena’s room. We heard it’s been rather interesting at The House of Lamentation in the mornings over this…” Diavolo chuckled. His voice was deep and boisterous. Lena could drink in that deep laughter for eternity she thought to herself.

“My Lord, if you have time to pick Lena’s colors, then you have time to go over those documents I sent you….” the demon scolded. “Lena, you are without your escort so I will accompany you home now.” Lena had sent Levi away since he was in a rush to pick up an order of “great importance” from Akuzon before Mammon could get to it.

“Haha, looks like I’ve been caught by Luci!” Diavolo responded, scratching the back of his head. We better return to the student council room before we get in trouble Barbatos.”

“Thank you both again.” Lena chimed. She followed after Lucifer, but looked back at the two, mouthing the words “I’m sorry” to them both. The demons both gave her a smile and Diavolo waved at her before heading back in the opposite direction.

********************

Lena and Lucifer walked home in silence for the most part. It felt both tense and awkward for the nephilim. The demon was a man of few words it seemed and she didn’t know how to communicate with him. It bothered her, but he didn’t understand why.

“So uh…” she began, looking down at the ground

“Yes?” he responded, with almost slight irritation in his voice, “What is it you want to say?”

“Well, this morning...I apologized for mine and my brother’s behavior and disruption of your morning.”

Lucifer waited a moment for her to continue, but when Lena didn’t, he let out a sigh, “Are you worried by my lack of direct response to your apology Miss Lena?”

The way he asked that rubbed Lena the wrong way; there was a smugness in his voice that reminded her of the Council of Elders the Van Helsing’s worked with. They always treated her poorly because of not only her mixed race, but her gender as well.

“I wouldn’t say ‘worried’ per say..” she responded with her own level of annoyance in her voice, “I just think it’s rather rude. If someone goes out of their way to apologize for something, especially before anyone comments on it, it warrants a response.”

“And was my silence over the matter not a response in itself Miss Lena?” The eldest demon brother didn’t even look at her once as he spoke. It was becoming more infuriating and she could see why Satan and Belphegor were always talking about pranking him. She’d have to get in on it sometimes. Give them more daring options to annoy the hell out of this pompous ass.

“I guess it was a response. But maybe it could give an undesired translation…” she hesitated with a cocked eyebrow. Lucifer didn’t comment, but she caught him giving a slight glare in her direction. “I might take that silence as indifference to how much noise I may make in the morning. It may lead to me thinking that it’s okay to blast my metal….no dubstep music in the mornings while i do my workout routine before showering.”

There was a moment of silence as they approached The House of Lamentation’s front gates. Then Lucifer gave the most ominous chuckle that Lena had ever heard. It was the complete opposite of Lord Diavolo’s. “Was that a threat Miss Lena?” he asked rhetorically, “You really think I’d let you ‘blast’ that sort of abominable form of music before sunrise in my home?” He finally fully turned to look down at her with that intimidating expression.

Lena looked right back at him with the same expression. It was like a contest of wills and all she could think of was that this demon was nothing more than a pretentious asshole. And the way he looked down at her, both literally and metaphorically, made her want to stomp his foot.

“What are you two doing?” a sudden voice behind them called.

It was Beelzabub with a couple sacks of burgers in hand, with a single burger hanging from his mouth.

“Nothing.” Lucifer glared at his youngest brother. “And why are you eating all of that? It’s Satan’s turn to cook tonight.” He paused for a moment and shook his head before going on by himself into the house.

Both Lena and Beel just stood and watched him leave. “Your brother can be a real piece of work, ya know that Beel?” He blinked back in response for a moment.

“I don’t know what you two were talking about, but Lucifer doesn’t talk a whole bunch unless he’s scolding or directing us…”

“Ah, he’s a Mr. Bossy Pants type. I guess it’s in the name though, right? Avatar of Pride. He’s probably never admitted to be wrong about anything has he? She asked, walking slowly with the redheaded demon.

Beelzabub thought long and hard about it for a moment, “I guess not. I’m not sure he’s ever been wrong about anything...except with his actions towards Be- oh, nevermind that. It’s in the past.”

Lena put his response in a pocket in the back of her mind. Having a little insight on the head demon in charge that even manages to boss Lord Diavolo around is nice.

*****************************

“There you are! I tried to ask Levi where you were but he grabbed his Akuzon package bolted to his room.” Lilly shouted when Lena and Beelzebub entered the house.

Lena chuckled and explained what happened up until this point. This caused Lilly to sigh and shake her head. “Sounds like Lucifer alright. He’s just hard to read, but don’t take his comments or silence for that matter personally. It’s just how he is. You’ll get used to it after awhile. And who knows, he might start talking in multiple sentences after getting to know you better.”

“Ha! That’s assuming he’d ever want to get to know me. I can tell he’s just under obligation to all me to stay here. He’d toss me out given the first chance he got. It makes me even more happy to have Lord Diavolo in my corner…” Lena couldn’t hold back her dreamy sigh, which caused the human to chuckle. Yeah it was pretty damn obvious what the nephilim was thinking about.

*************

Both Lilly and Asmodeus accompanied Lena up to the attic to see what her brothers had accomplished. Apparently Zak had given up on his plans to assist in keeping his siblings from causing too much trouble. It was a full time job he truly wished he got paid for.

Asmo had attached himself to Lena, always holding her hand or wrapped his arms around her like she was a stuffed animal. She didn’t mind it. He was a super clingy, affectionate type. And he smelled absolutely amazing.

“My dear brothers,” she began, “I have returned, as promised, with my final decisions for the colors we’ll be working with.”

Asmo looked down, over her shoulder at the pallet, but not before glancing at her cleavage and giving a sneaky little grin. “Oh my, Leeee-na! I adore these colors!”

“Thanks! I couldn’t have made my decision without Lord Diavolo or Barbatos. They both have great taste…” Lena gushed. Lilly and Asmo looked at each other and giggled at their friend’s response.

Azriel, in a comedic dash, ran to his sister and took the DDD from her. His eyes widened as he studied her choices carefully. “Lena….who picked these?”

“Uh, oh that would be Barbatos. He’s quite talented isn’t he?” Lena nodded. She could tell her brother was impressed. He had that glint in his eye that was a combination of joy and admiration only an artist could have. “They told me he choses all of the designs for the Academy and the castle…”

“I will have to pick his brain when opportunity knocks...he does show a refine taste for style and harmonization of colors. And he was a genius with the values he suggested for the accents.”

Zak looked at their sister and chuckled, “Barbatos better watch out. Someone may have a Stan on their case..” Lena laughed and nodded. It was very seldom that their big brother complimented someone else’s tastes. Azriel could sometimes be even more of a snob than Lucifer.

“All the teasing aside, I’d definitely like to thank them for their assistance. And with the colors selected, do we officially have a game plan ready for this remodel now?” The female nephilim asked.

Azriel nodded, “Yes! Let’s get to work, people! We’ve got a job to do!”

Zak and Azriel were going to stay in the attic to work on the necessary repairs needed before any painting could be done. Asmo and Lilly volunteered to take Lena shopping for the paints. This was for the best so Azriel wouldn’t go into another shopping frenzy.

****************

When the trio returned home, everyone had already ate dinner and were going about their own business as usual. Asmo had texted Satan ahead to let him know that he and the girls were going to grab a bite from Hell’s Kitchen while they were out so he wouldn’t have to fend off Beel on their account.

They delivered the buckets of paint and needed supplies for Lena’s brothers to get started. “Don’t stay up working on this too late please. Get your beauty rest big brother… and you too Zak.” The masculine brother chuckled and joked about it some before resuming the work being done on the ceiling.

“And thank you both for taking me to the store and out for dinner.” Lena pulled Lilly and Asmo in a little hug before letting them go. Asmo held onto her a bit longer, being his clingy, flirty self.

“And what do I get for helping you today, hmmm?” he practically whispered it into her hear, purposely grazing his soft lips against the shell of her ear. He discovered that was one of the little nephilim’s weaknesses.

Lips suddenly pressed against his cheek, causing an instant rosiness. “How about that kiss?” she chuckled. Lilly just watched the two flirt and shook her head with a smile.

“Careful, he will be relentless with you now.” The human headed to Mammon’s room to hang with her bro, or to pester him at the very least.

“Maybe I want a little more than just a kiss Leee-na…” Asmo continued, pulling her into a full hug. Her right arm hugged his waist, but her other held a bag in it. “I did manual labor for you today…”

Lena smirked back, enjoying all the flirtation they shared. It was nice to be sought after, especially after an intense breakup she went through recently. “Well, I suppose I could give you a bit...more…” she teased him and used a bit of her nephilim strength to push the Avatar of Lust against the wall by his bedroom door. She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a direct kiss on the mouth, teasing him with the slightest moan, and sucking his bottom lip as she slowly pulled away. “And that’s all you get...for now my lovely.”

As she pulled away, Asmo let out a whimper. Not because he was weak to her, but because he was holding back his desires and his demonic urges. He really wanted to know what it was to fully experience a nephilim. “You’re so mean Leeee-na….” he pouted.

“I get that a lot.” she chuckled in response, “I do need to make a delivery before I get ready to crash for the night. I know my brothers won’t be letting me sleep in tomorrow.”

*****************

After a plethora of flirtations and teasing, Asmo finally retreated to his room. Lena smiled, biting her bottom lip as she walked away from the intense temptations he urged her with.

No, the nephilim had other plans that evening. In the bag she held onto was a gift for her guide and fellow nerd. She walked to Leviathan’s door and knocked. Of course there was an immedite request for a passphrase. “Leviiii..it’s me, Lena. you know I have no idea about Devildom Anime or manga yet. That’s why I’m here..”

There was a long pause before Leviathan opened his door. He hesitated before peeking around to make sure Lena was alone. He then slipped back into his room. Since the door didn’t shut in her face, she assumed she had permission to enter.

“So, you’ve returned from your filler quest for 6 buckets of paint, 10 paint brushes, and bonus loot?” The Avatar of Envy asked. It made Lena smile widely, understanding the typical MMORPG quest type he referred.

“That I have. And I’ve returned with my selected rare items of choice.” Lena held up and wiggled a bag before Leviathan. “I, alas, am not the required class for this prize. However, I did know a party member that is.”

Lena handed him the bag. Leviathan was at first reluctant to take it; his eyes peeked through his bangs at her for a moment before looking inside at these ‘rare items’. He acknowledged her reference. She was no mere normie after all. And when he realize what she was giving him, his face lit up like the Beacons of Gondor!

“OOOOMMMMDDDDD!!!! LENA!” he shouted, quickly removing the gatcha figurines from the bag. “Are you seriously giving these to me?! No way! This must be a sick joke…” he was almost in tears.

They were the other two ultra rare gacha figurines that would now complete the rare collector’s set he had been trying to get for the last two months. Lena remembered how excited he was when she got one of them by pure luck the other night and wanted to try for him while she was out tonight.

Apparently she did good. Lilly and Asmo had picked their seat and placed the orders for the table while she try-hard-moded at the gacha machine until she got the prizes she wanted. She’d accumulated a small audience of young demon children, giving them the prizes she didn’t want. It was quite the scene.

“So, did I get the right ones?” she asked hesitantly. She’d not oblige him with the details of how much grimm she spent getting those for him. She just wanted to thank him for being a great tour guide and opening up to her a bit more at a time.

Leviathan nodded, holding them, and trying not to cry. “ARIGATO!” he yelled and began to carefully remove each figure from their boxes. He already had the others on display with two empty figure stands awaiting these last two models.

He stood back in admiration. “There’s nothing like completing a full set..” he said aloud. He was unaware that Lena stood close to him on his left. He was in complete otaku bliss.

“Right...the full set. I’m so happy I could help.” she replied, causing Levi to let out a small yelp and go completely red from head to toe. “Hey, come back!”

He’d took a large step away from her and she moved in his direction. “Why are you avoiding me now? Do I smell like paint that bad?” Lena sniffed at her shoulder.

“N-n-n-o! You smell like rose and peonies and human sunshine…” Levi blurted. It made Lena blink and then smile, covering her mouth. “I-I just have major personal space issues, ok. I don’t get close to anyone, especially 3D females..i'll stick with my 2D waifus...I-”

He stopped talking, getting more embarrassed at admitting that to the female nephilim slowly approaching him. He felt like he would be betraying ruri-chan if getting any closer to Lena that what he already was.

“Do you not like...3D females?” Lena asked, taking a step towards him. It was a legitimate question to her. She’d leave him alone if he answered that he didn’t. But there was no response.

The statement Lucifer made earlier came to mind, “...my silence over the matter is not a response in itself…” Lena’s brows raised and she got it.

“It’s not that you don’t like 3D females...it’s that you’ve never gotten to be near them, right?”

“I-I guess so. I mean, why would anyone want to get close to a shut-in otaku nerd like me?” He responded, squinting his eyes shut.

Lena, however, furrowed his eyebrows, “Oh I dunno. Could it be because that shut-in otaku is really attractive, smart, hilarious when commentating on his brother’s antics, and really passionate and enthusiastic about what he likes?” she did not like it when people talked bad about themselves. She was the type of person to say ‘no, you are amazing af and here’s why!’

Hearing those compliments, Leviathan was shocked. Daring to open his eyes, the demon was face to face with the nephilim. Or as face-to-face as one could be with such a height difference. His body remained red and he couldn’t take his eyes away from hers.

“Leviathan, you have made me feel more at ease than anyone else in the Devildom. And it’s been wonderful getting to share my nerdy side with someone without judgement. Even when it’s playful, it can take its toll. I know that all too well.” Her hand reached for his. He flinched, but allowed her to take it.

“But I am a no good, dirty otaku that blows all of money on-”

“No! I don’t want to hear it Mr. And look who you’re talking to! I have a room back home, larger than your foyer with my collection of stuff. And did you see how much my brother and I spent on clothes. Pl-lease! You’re not the only nerd or over-spender. And tonight, I spent all my grimm on that gacha game without batting an eyelash. I-”

Oops. she spilled the beans on that one. She felt him return a solid grip on her hand. “You spent all of your grimm on the gacha...and gave it to me?”

Lena found herself looking away for a moment, “I mean, yeah. You’ve tried for 2 months to get that collection, and I had a natural talent for it...so I thought what the hell! Let’s complete that set.” She chuckled for a moment, looking at the bewildered demon. Who knew they could make such an expression. Or have such self-doubt.

Finding herself staring at Leviathan, Lena’s eyes left his own and focused in on his lips. He bit on his bottom lip nervously. “You seemed to gloss over my compliment of how attractive you are as well…” At that he shrinked more.

“N-no I’m not. Look at my hair…” he argued.

“You’re hair color is literally my favorite color...you’ll see soon.” The comment puzzled him just enough to lift his guard in time for Lena to kiss him on the lips.

“Wwwmmmgh!” Levi wanted to do his typical scream, but found himself in almost a daze as the nephilim stole his breath. She. just. KISSED. Him. Leviathan.

There were a couple of small kisses that followed, all leaving Leviathan speechless. Lena let go of his hand, observing his response. She wasn’t sure if a demon could go catatonic or not, but Leviathan was proving it to be possible.

“L-Levi….?” she whispered gently.

“Mmmmh-hmmm….” he squeaked.

“Are you okay?”

“Mmmmh-hmmm….” he squeaked again.

“Did you...like it?” Lena asked, finding herself feeling a little less confident in the moment. She’d never had this sort of reaction before. Did demons like kissing? Asmo was the Avatar of Lust, so maybe he was an exception?

Finally there was another “Mmmmh-hmmm” response. Leviathan did like the series of small kisses. He REALLY liked them. He was just so shocked that a beautiful, 3D female actually did that.

This response made Lena smile with relief and excitement. Not thinking, she hugged him, placing her head in his chest. “Oh, I’m so glad. I thought you were appalled by that. I-”

She paused, hearing the sound of a freight train within the demon’s chest. That proved A. Demons in fact had hearts and B. They could beat insanely fast under the right circumstances. And those circumstances at the moment included kissing, hugging, pretty much any direct physical contact. Oh yeah, and her large chest pressing against him. Leviathan was probably about to die any moment now.

“Le-Lena…” he whispered awkwardly, “L-let go..please…”

“Uhm, sure. Sorry…” She pulled away. She didn’t realize she had him pressed against his closet door with no room to move.

Leviathan took a deep breath and went to sit in his computer chair. She watched him silently stare into nothingness for a moment and eventually went to take a seat on the side of his bathtub bed.

Before she made it over there, the demon reached and grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. It was a firm grip at first but he instantly loosened it up. He was all sorts of nervous and she found it completely endearing.

“That was...amazing.’ He finally said, “I’ve never…...that was amazing…” He was trying to communicate his feelings despite all of his embarrassment.

“It was...your lips are incredibly soft…” Lena chuckled.

He peeked up at her, almost irritated like it was an insult instead of a compliment.

She sensed that and quickly continued, “It makes me want to do it again...and again…” She bit her own, looking down at him. She knew that he was clearly super sensitive, which she could work with. He was so cute and she met every compliment she gave him before.

“Do you want to kiss me….more? For real?” Leviathan hesitantly asked. He knew he wanted to kiss her. A lot. It was just so hard to imagine she would do such a thing with him. Maybe it was a spur of the moment and she wasn’t thinking when she did it. Was it an attempt to make him feel better. Surely she couldn’t have any feelings for him.

“Absolutely, Levi-kun…” she replied in a sweet, yet seductive tone. She realized during this silence he was overthinking things.She stepped closer, then sat down on the demon’s lap.

Instantly he squirmed, never imagining something like this would happen to him in a millenia. A beautiful 3D, real creature sat in his...LAP!

“I want to kiss you a lot...and maybe do...this and that…” She whispered into his ear, similarly to how Asmo did to her before. She knew he’d get that typical manga line.

“Th-th-th-th-this a-a-and THAT!!!?” he shouted.

Lena chuckled and placed a finger over his lip to quiet him down. “We can start with kissing for now Levi. I just want to make sure you’re consenting and really want to...I’m not pressuring you at all…”

“P-pressure? No pressure!” Levi responded, staring at her. He was distracted about, well, everything: The feeling of a person in his lap. He really had to keep calm about that. The feeling of her chest against his again. “I...just..this is..”

“...New?” she finished for him. He nodded rapidly. “Well then, if that’s the case, I’ll just help you get used to it.” Lena leaned against him and planted a kiss on his cheek and then on the mouth. The demon almost threw her onto the floor, surprised by the sudden kiss again. It was hard for her to keep from giggling at his reactions. She enjoyed them a little too much.

The two of them continued to practice getting used to the kissing and touching the rest of the night. She wasn’t sure if he was a complete virgin or just out of touch since they age so slowly. She would never dream of asking him directly and decided to take it slow on him.

[wrenhyperfixates]

Of All the Places

Chapter 2

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: It’s a new day and Loki meets the rest of your family. He begins to formulate a plan, but it’s derailed by your hospitality before it can even begin. Chapter Warnings: none A/N: Alright, here we go. Chapter 2! Let me know what you think, and if anyone has any predictions they’d like to share, I would love to hear! Updates every Friday. Enjoy :) P.S. It’s spooky season! That has absolutely nothing to do with this fic, but it’s one of my favorite times of year

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiantfavs​

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Loki woke up feeling a lot more alert than he had the previous day. After convincing you that he had amnesia, he spent the rest of the day drifting in and out of slumber, assisting his rapidly healing body get better even faster. He got out of the bed and stretched his aching muscles before scanning the room with fresh eyes. It was even more bare than he had originally realized, but he could tell from patches of less faded paint and wood that there was a time when it wasn’t so sparsely decorated. He flipped a switch by the entrance and the lights came on, sending a surge of panic through him that had him running over to the TV. He let out a sigh of relief when it still did’t work. Though, perhaps that was just because he was so terrible at using Midgardian technology. He stilled for a second and heard a faint mechanical hum easily identified as a generator. The cable would be back sooner rather than later, he was sure, but from looking out the bedroom’s single window, Loki knew he was in the middle of nowhere and that the internet connection was probably spotty at best. With any luck, he would be fully healed in the next few hours and could take his leave.

As he worked on massaging out the remaining dull ache in his body, Loki’s eyes finally landed on a bright pink piece of paper left atop a pile of clothes. His eyes skipped to the bottom where the signature was and, seeing that it bore your name, he went back up to the top to read it. He tugged off his sweaty, bloody clothes and pulled on the ones you’d written were left for him. The material of the shirt was soft enough, but the sweatpants were dreadfully baggy for someone who preferred form-fitting clothes that displayed his physique. Certainly, though, you’d been thinking of the comfort level of what you believed to be a very injured mortal, so he tried to remain thankful. Loki folded up his old clothes and left them in the spot where his new ones had been moments ago.

Back at the window, Loki was once again trying to determine precisely where he was. Besides the landscape, your voice and that of your father’s provided some clues to the most likely locations. He still had to be in North America, he was sure, and though he suspected it was the United States, there wasn’t anything confirming it at the moment. Your father did have a slight twang to his voice, though, so it supported his theory that he was probably in one of the southern states. Other than that, all Loki could determine was that this was a farm; a nice remote farm where he could hide from his oaf of a brother and his new overly heroic friends.

Loki called out to the Tesseract, and it appeared in his hands. Such power for such a tiny object, he thought as he turned it over in his hand. The last time it rested in his palm, he’d not fully been himself. Even so much as looking at it made him feel a little queasy now as he thought of all the crimes he’d committed with it. For it. But when his life is on the line, Loki had learned, there is very little he’d not do to save himself. It was one similarity he shared with mortals that he’d rather not. It was also one of the few he’d actually admit were there. But, no, some mortals were righteous beings. He knew that, but had trouble separating those of a higher caliber from the rest of the species. He wondered what kind of mortal you were, before being pulled out of his musings by a delicious aroma. He debated for a minute before once again tucking the Tesseract away in its dimensional pocket and heading out of the room, down the stairs, towards the amazing scent coming from a lower floor.

“Not a thing,” he heard your voice ring out as he got closer.

“Or so he says,” responded an unfamiliar female voice.

When he rounded the corner he saw it belonged to a woman that must be your mother, or else your older doppelgänger because of how alike the two of you looked. Your dispositions, though, could not have been more different. The first person to notice him lurking half-in, half-out of the room was a small boy who pointed at him.

“New friend!” he cheered. “New friend!”

Such innocence as Loki had never known continuously amazed him. He feared he could be dangerous for this child, but he would be gone so soon that he wouldn’t even be a blip in the boy’s memory.

“I would very much like to be your friend, indeed,” Loki said, crouching down to the boy’s height as he toddled over. The adults in the room all shot each other glances, but no one moved to do anything. “And what might your name be?”

“I’m Matt. And I’m this many,” the child responded, proudly holding up four fingers.

“A pleasure to meet you, Matt. My name is Loki.”

“How many are you?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Oh, far too many to count on fingers, little one. In fact, I am 1,047 years old,” he said, realizing that it would probably just be seen as a joke to amuse the boy, rather than a fact.

He laughed at Loki’s statement, but before he could reply, a woman that was presumably his mom called him over. “Don’t bother our guest right now, Matt. He’s still recovering,” she scolded.

“I assure you, it is completely fine, Mrs...?”

“Johnson. But, please, feel free to call me Ana. And this is my husband, John.”

“Glad to make your acquaintance,” Loki charismatically said, though on the inside he was laughing at the name “John Johnson.” These mortals and their foolish names. “And I do believe we already met,” he added, turning to you.

“Yes, we did. You were so out of it I wasn’t quite sure you remembered. This is Mama,” you said, gesturing to the woman who Loki had correctly identified as your mother.

“Hello,” she drawled, fixing the god with an icy stare.

“Papa, did you hear? Loki’s awake,” you told the man walking out of the kitchen with a plate of light brown disks stacked high.

“Glad you’re up, son. Just in time for pancakes, too,” he said, immediately diffusing the tension brewing between Loki and Mama. “Come on, plop yourself down on a seat over here. You must be pooped, and I promise we don’t bite.”

Loki sauntered over to the chair Papa had gestured to and sat down. Feeling a fuzzy mass moving between his sprawled legs, he peered down and saw a grey-brown cat under the table. He’d never been one for pets, but the soft fur was comforting to his weary soul.

“Taffy,” you tsked at the feline before looking back up at Loki with an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I hope you’re not allergic.”

“Do not worry, I am not. At least,” he added, remembering his lie from the day prior, “I do not remember that I am.”

Loki appraised your charming family in your quaint farmhouse, almost feeling bad to intrude. Though, he reminded himself, he’d be out of your hair before you knew it. Papa was the only one happily chattering on about this year’s harvest, oblivious to the tension at the table, or else ignoring it. The God of Mischief refocused on the plan he’d created this morning; he needed answers. You were seated beside him and, besides your father and nephew, the only one who didn’t seem wary of him. And you were really the only viable option as Loki didn’t want to get sucked into a conversation about the wheat crop with your father, and Matt was at the age where he was only vaguely aware he was on planet Earth.

“If you do not mind,” he started, turning to you, “I have a few questions.”

“Of course you do. Sorry, I’m such an idiot,” you said smacking your forehead. “Please, ask away.”

The way you immediately seemed to blame and degrade yourself reminded Loki of himself. The difference, however, was that you did it aloud while Loki kept it bottled up. Whose way was better, he didn’t know. Perhaps neither was really good.

“It is quite alright,” he reassured you. “To begin, where exactly are we?”

Apparently it was some hole in the wall in Oklahoma, so Loki had been fairly correct in his middle of nowhere assessment. Apparently, you weren’t outrageously far from Oklahoma City, though Loki felt it best he avoid cities for a little bit. The nearby town that your farm was technically a part of was a very close knit community, so you knew that wasn’t where he was from.

“I see,” he said, planning his next move. “And that is how far from New York?”

“Far. Why? Is that where you’re from?” you asked, getting excited for Loki that he might already be getting his memory back.

“I am not sure,” Loki lied. “I just seem to think that is where I was headed. Or coming from.”

“Maybe you were at some kind of convention,” John offered, tuning in to the conversation. “Aren’t those a big thing in New York City?”

“It would sure explain the clothes!” Papa added.

“Great. Let’s send him back there,” Mama said, already standing up like she intended to drive him there right at the moment.

“Mama,” you harshly whispered, hating how unwelcoming she was being.

“Maybe he was on vacation from England. He does have an accent,” Ana chimed in, hoping to prevent a fight.

“I am afraid that I do not remember,” Loki muttered.

He was thankful no one was even concerned about how he arrived here. There was something else, too. He was feeling uncharacteristically ashamed because of how helpful you all were being. Well, most of you were being, anyway. He reminded himself again that he would be gone within the hour.

“It’s ok,” you soothed. “Like I said yesterday, you can stay here for as long as you need. In fact, I insist that you do.”

“I... Thank you.”

Loki still planned to leave rather quickly, but the kind look in your eyes compelled him to stay for a little while longer. After all, it couldn’t hurt to think about his next move a bit more. If he were to use the Tesseract again, Heimdall would surely notice. So, he’d lie low for a while and then get off this accursed planet.

“Well if he’s going to be staying here, he better help out some,” Mama grumbled. “I won’t have any freeloaders on my farm.”

“Now now, honey,” Papa said, patting her hand. “He’s still injured, after all.”

“On the contrary, I would happy to help,” Loki interjected, shooting a charming smile at Mama. “I am feeling much better now.”

“See, Earl,” Mama said triumphantly. “He’s fine.”

Everyone else tried to fight on Loki’s behalf but, between him and Mama, it was a losing battle. Eventually, it was time to clean up from breakfast, and you took him away from the clattering of empty dishes to find him so work clothes. The trickster god got a much better look at the rest of the house while you led him higher and higher until you reached the attic. You hesitated a second before opening a box labeled “James’s Clothes.” As you gently picked up the shirt on top, Loki peered over your shoulder wondering who this stuff belonged to.

“My brother’s,” you began before he could ask, sensing the question on his tongue. “We were going to donate them anyway, so I suppose it doesn’t really matter. And don’t worry, I’ll talk to Mama before she sees you. I’d give you some of John’s things, or Papa’s even, but you know.”

Indeed, Loki did know. Though he was roughly the same height as both the men, he was much leaner than they were. Unfortunately, that was about the only thing he understood. Your little distracted speech left him with even more questions than before, but something in him was screaming not to push you, to think of someone else for once. So, all he said was thank you. After a quick pit stop in the room from the night before to change into the bundle of clothes you’d given him, Loki made his way back downstairs where yet another argument was taking place. He was certain that his arrival was causing more tension than normal. His mind briefly flitted to his own family. It all seemed so picturesque, once, but that time was long gone. His mother—or Queen Frigga, as he supposed he should start calling her—never changed. She was as kind and gentle as ever, yet still possessed this refined regality and power. In other words, she was the complete opposite of Mama, who turned on her heel and made a disgruntled sigh as she exited when Loki appeared.

“There ya are, son,” Papa greeted once she was gone. “We had an idea while you were up there. We should make you up a missing person ad. I’m sure someone’s bound to know who you are.”

There was that sickeningly Thor-esque optimism in Papa’s voice. Not to mention the nickname “son” which, for someone like Loki at least, was one of the worst thing he could be called. He did his best not to grimace.  

“No thank you,” he replied, before continuing at the behest of your confused looks. “I certainly would not want to put you out any more than I already have.”

“Nonsense. We just gotta find the camera,” Papa said, already moving past him.

Loki just sighed, deciding he’d find a way to stall later. When he finally looked back at you, your hands were clasped behind your back and you were nervously shifting your weight.

“In the meantime,” Loki began, picking up where he left off with your father, “why not show me what I may help with?”

You took him out to the chicken coop and taught him how to collect eggs. He supposed it made sense this was the task left for him considering you all still thought he was a fragile human. As you taught him, you prattled on about your life and your family. You mentioned how Mama met Papa, and how your sister met John, but nothing about your brother. Loki was on the verge of asking, but he didn’t want to make his time with you awkward. Even more than that, he didn’t want it to seem like he cared. No need to cause any extra pain when he inevitably left, right? Though your glittering eyes and stunning smile were working overtime to convince him otherwise.

“That’s all there is to it,” you said, finishing up your tutorial. “Any questions?”

“None at all. You are an excellent teacher.”

You two shared a laugh, and Loki was shocked by how easily conversation was flowing. Though, he let you do most of the talking, lest he reveal something that does not align with the rest of his story. All too soon, you had to leave to take care of your other chores. For a second, Loki felt as if he missed you already, but he quickly pushed the thought out of his mind and focused on the task at hand. Just a week, he repeated in his mind as he gently placed eggs in the basket you’d given him. Just a week.

As he approached the farmhouse, he noticed a thick newspaper on the long driveway. He went over to examine it and, sure enough, he’d made the headlines. No clear photos of him attached, luckily, but the clothes were distinctive enough that you would recognize him for sure. Loki looked side to side before performing a quick spell to get rid of the paper. He headed back over to the house before anyone could notice him, ignoring the annoyingly persistent guilt bubbling within him.

“Just a week,” he muttered to himself again as he neared where you were on the front porch. “Just a week.”

But deep down, he already knew it would be much longer than that.

[itsomgitsgreenblogging]

Tangled (In Complexity)

So I've been very interested in a lot of the psychological features of Essek's character, and one of them is his canonical low-empathy. Essek seems to have a really hard time with empathy as a rule, which makes social interactions extremely fraught for him. I am also a Verin Theylss stan, so of course, I had to write a whole fic exploring these issues. No, I do not believe having low-empathy makes a person evil by any means, but as this story is from Verin's flawed perspective we only get his insights into Essek's behaviors so just keep that in mind when reading.

Enjoy!

Read on AO3

Triggers: emotionally abusive/distant parenting, estrangement, grief, and mentions of canonical minor character death (Essek and Verin’s father)

Preview:

"Don't leave me," Verin begged, fingers pressed to the wood of the door, and yanking the knob to no avail. "Please, it'll get me, Mama!"

"Verin, you will stay in your room until you overcome this idiotic fear," his mother shouted, and Verin flinched back from the door. "We are drow , what kind of drow is afraid of the dark?"

"Mama, Mama no!" Verin sobbed curling tight into himself. He could hear her footsteps as they echoes down the hallway and disappeared. He screwed his eyes shut. The room seemed to shrink in his panic. The shadows at his closet seemed to grow. The panic that had been gnawing at Verin's gut since his history lesson that day seemed to grow stronger. There was only his desperate heartbeat in his ears, the scent of snuffed candles, and thick shadows. In the dark there were the monsters that he had been told about. He didn't understand why his mother couldn't understand. If he was alone in the dark, then the driders and beholders and the other creeping crawling monster would be able to find him and hurt him!

There was no choice then. If his mother wouldn't help him than Verin knew that he would have to save himself.

Verin looked about, seeing his window and realizing it was his golden opportunity. He jumped up on his chair, onto his desk, and then attempted to open the window. It didn't budge. Seeing the lock at the top, Verin climbed down to his bookshelf and began bringing books over to his desk. Using them to boost himself up and using all his strength, he heard the lock creak and pop, the window opening out to the courtyard. He nearly fell out right there but managed to catch his balance with a startled yelp.

Verin ducked, his heart in his throat. He had been so desperate to escape that he hadn’t thought of any of the consequences. Mother would come, she would know and the punishment would be worse. But would that punishment be worse than the creatures that were surely waiting for him to trance? It was a risk he was willing to take. A minute passed, and then two. No one crossed the courtyard. In fact, no one appeared at all. However, from one of the rooms he saw the light of a candle. Verin, gathering all of his courage, lowered himself out of the window and then sprinted across the yard as quickly as his legs would take him. He grabbed a stick, and began to rap at the window. Mid-hit, the window opened and Verin heard Essek swear as he swatted the branch away.

"Stop!" Essek snapped and Verin dropped the stick. Essek was sticking his head out of the window now, glaring down at Verin with a heat that made Verin shrink with a leaf now stuck in his hair. "What are you doing ?"

"Mother locked me in my room," Verin said, gripping the edge of the window and desperately scrabbling for a foothold so he could boost himself up. "And she took all the lights away! Essek, please, the driders are going to get me!"

"You are being ridiculous! Hey! Stop, you are going to hurt yourself!" Essek said, and to Verin's relief Essek grabbed his shirt and pulled him up through the window. Verin was sprawled on Essek's desk, looking at Essek's glower from an interesting angle. A book had fallen, and he had scattered papers all over the place. Despair came thick and shameful. Now Essek definitely wouldn’t help him, he would carve him up and serve him to their mama on a golden platter.

"Don't make me go back, Essek, she'll lock me away again," Verin sniffed, eyes burning. Essek's face twisted for a moment, he looked out the window and closed it, moved to the door and stuck his head out and closed it in turn. He planted his hands on his hips, and then groaned after finding whatever answer he was looking for on the ceiling.

"Oh fine, very well," Essek sighed, helping Verin off the desk and straightening out his things. "I'll put you to work then."

Verin nodded eagerly, his heart full of a crippling relief. Being put to work was far better than dealing with the dark, cold, lonely bedroom before. Essek had never assigned Verin chores or punishment before, but whatever he wanted couldn't have been as bad as the quiet room. Essek was distant and quiet and mean on occasions that suited him, but at least he always kept his promises.

"Hold this for me," Essek said, taking the blanket spread out over his legs and draping it over Verin's shoulders. "I'm getting too hot."

Verin nodded and curled it around his shoulders.

"Now I'm going to read, you stay quiet," Essek told him, standing up and pulling a book from the shelf. It was cracked along the backbone, well-used and annotated with his brother's scrawl. He settled it at the center of the desk, pushing away the massive tome he had been using after marking the page he had been on.

"I will!"

" Quiet , Verin."

"Oh! Right, sorry!" Verin whispered, curling the blanket more firmly around himself. He felt tiny in the huge chair, and didn't quite know what to do with his legs and arms. He settled for tucking them underneath himself and leaning against the arm. Essek began reading aloud.

"Dunamists have long held that gravity is the force by which a planet or other celestial body draws objects towards their center. The force of gravity keeps the celestial bodies in orbit around the sun," Essek read, voice quietly. "The manipulation of this force is called Dunamancy, and this concept of drawing towards the center is the most basic principle of the practice."

"Mm," Verin sighed, head heavy.

"The existence of gravity was first proven by which scholar, Verin?"

"Narcelia of Den Gallaer," Verin grumbled, remembering the list and his tutor who smelled like old parchment and smoke. He remembered because he had gotten his knuckles hit for doodling during that lesson, and his mother hadn’t been pleased.

"Correct, and she discovered gravity by completing a sequence of tests that started…"

Essek read, and occasionally asked Verin questions. He never once looked at Verin, and yet Verin could sense he had Essek's attention. And that was enough. After all, a drider couldn't get the jump on him if someone was paying attention. He tried to stay awake, to listen so that he could help Essek. He wasn't sure exactly what he had wanted help with, but he knew he could. He could be of use somehow. Essek would see that, and then Essek would see him . He couldn’t imagine something better than that, after all, everyone knew that Essek was a genius. If Essek saw him, maybe Verin could be special one day and not just a bother.

Just one moment, Verin thought to himself as his heavy eyes closed. I'll just rest for a moment. Essek won't be mad if it's just for a moment and it was so difficult to keep his eyes open and…

Verin drifted into a trance, and even deeper into sleep . When he awoke he was in his own bed, and the only proof it hadn't been a dream was the unlocked door and the closed window.

_____________________________

Verin was in the midst of a well needed rest when he was startled out of his trance by a Message. This was his least favorite way to wake up for multiple reasons, but it was especially unwelcome as his foggy brain began to put together the pieces of the words as they filtered in.

“Taskhand, your presence is being requested by your Denmother and the Shadowhand. You will be expected at the residence tomorrow evening.”

“Very well, I’ll leave Bazzoxan tomorrow,” Verin said, before waiting for the spell to fizzle out. He sighed and collapsed back down in his bed, once he was safe.

“ What ?” Samezi groaned from where she was laying on the bed next to him. Her head popped out from under the covers, and she blinked at him slowly.

“My presence has been requested at the Theylss Residence tomorrow evening,” Verin said, adopting an exaggerated Rosohna accent.

“You aren’t going are you?” Samezi asked, concerned, sitting up straight. Verin wished they could just go back to sleeping, with his arms around her and soaking in her warmth and her scent and burying his face in her braids. When Verin didn’t answer she swore under her breath in orcish. “You can’t be serious Verin.”

“I can’t refuse a summons from my Denmother,” Verin explained, pulling himself up and resting against the rickety backboard of his bed. He had gutted most of the belongings of the previous Taskhand, the velvet curtains and the feather down, when he got there and salvaged them for extra coin. One of his first orders of business was putting every spare coin back into the barracks where it belonged. He had no access to the vast fortune his family commanded, after all, he was the youngest son.

“You mean your mother,” Samezi said, not sounding impressed. “That woman .”

“Yes, my mother, the Denmother, Deirta there is no difference,” Verin said noncommittal though just mentioning her made something curdle in his gut. “I have to go, no matter how much I wish not to. The Shadowhand will be there, which means it’s something important.”

“Please, consider just...just refusing,” Samezi said, the worry settling like a weight between her brows. “You know how you get after seeing them.”

“You mean, feeling like I’m making nothing of my life? Please, elaborate.”

“Really Verin,” Samezi said quietly, touching his arm with a softness that gentled the sharp edges of his heart. “They are incapable of seeing what we all see. You are the only Taskhand we’ve liked probably in the history of the outpost. There’ll be chaos if that woman skins you and eats your organs or whatever she’s planning.”

“You don’t think she just wants to see me perhaps? I’ve heard I’m decent company,” Verin said, fluttering his eyelashes. He leaned to give Samezi a kiss and she batted him away half-heartedly.

“I’m being serious,” Samezi warned him, her fingers combing through Verin’s hair.

“At ease, sergeant,” Verin said with a salute before sighing and leaning back against the pillows. “I know, you’re right. But I’m sure it’s just something about politics now that the war is over. I’ll go there, have dinner, and come back. If something else happens, I give you permission to send a search party. Make to avenge me, also, burn all those letters I sent you. They are in a lockbox in my desk.”

“You are horrible ,” Samezi said. “But fine, but only if they kill you before I do.”

“Good, give me something to look forward to when I get home,” Verin said with a smile of his own.

He arrived the next evening back to his hometown through the use of their teleportation circle. Rosohna was dark and beautiful as always, after arriving he spent a little bit of time stretching his legs and getting a feel for the city that he had grown up in once more. The mood was much improved since his last visit, owed in part to the return of the beacons and to the end of the war. In general though, it felt like the city was teetering on another edge. Though it had little to do with him, he was sure that the direction Rosohna would blow would be decided soon enough.

Verin arrived in the Lucid Bastion on time, moving to the Den Theylss ancestral home. Servants acknowledged his presence and he was directed to one of the sitting rooms to await the presence of the Umavi. Verin was let in, and as he crossed the threshold he was immediately aware of another presence. Turning around, he saw Essek perched in a seat with a tome across his lap. He finished his page, not looking up, and once he did he put in a bookmark. Essek curled his fingers in the air and then slipped his book into a pocket dimension, before meeting his gaze. As always, his elder brother was dressed in a mantle and long robes that obscured his figure and he floated off the ground as he was buoyed in his own gravitational field.

"Hello Verin," Essek said pleasantly, head nodding towards him in acknowledgement.

"Essek," Verin said cordially in return, echoing his nod. "How have you been?"

"Busy," Essek answered, his tone non-committal. His attention slid to Verin now for the first time, though Verin wasn't looking at his brother but was instead looking ahead. The weight of his gaze skittered up Verin's neck like a spider and made him want to swat at his own skin. Essek had always had such an effect on everyone they knew. Unnerving , would be the term though it has its limits. Verin had known Essek all of his life...until recently there had been no life without Essek being factored in like some kind of twisted arithmetic, but Verin had no clue what was simmering under the surface of Essek's facade.

"The Denmother's last appointment is running late, it will be a few moments longer," a servant said, bowing deep in apology. Essek waved off the servant who scurried away. Verin sighed through his nose. Of course, his mother would summon him all the way from Bazzoxan and then still find a reason to not speak with him. Typical .

"I hear you have been busy as well," Essek said, and Verin startled at his voice. He had assumed their non-conversation was over and that they would start pretending the other didn't exist again. Apparently Essek wanted something.

"Bazzoxan keeps me on my toes," Verin said suspiciously, feeling his own eyes narrow. "Why?"

"It hasn't escaped my attention that you are doing well there," Essek said, and Verin met his silver gaze. He couldn't say that Essek looked proud, or warm. But instead, the placid mask of his brother was gone and his expression was neutral. "I will admit that the assignment concerned me, but I was glad to be proven wrong."

"You thought I couldn't handle it?" Verin asked, a twinge of indignation pricking him.

"In over your head," Essek clarified, arms shifting beneath the mantle. "But I have heard nothing but good things about your leadership. I'm sure the Umavi is pleased."

"And what do you think?" Verin asked him.

"A Theylss, executing their job proficiently in high places is to be expected," Essek said, looking forward. "You are a Theylss, after all."

"Until you can actually speak about that like I am a Theylss and don't just have to prove myself one, it doesn't feel like you actually think of me as your brother," Verin pointed out.

"You are the only one of our siblings I view as a sibling," Essek said with a blink, looking at Verin more critically. "I thought you knew that."

"I'm pretty sure what you think constitutes loving sibling behavior and what I think constitutes loving sibling behavior are two very different things," Verin said, illustrating the point by holding up two fingers and pulling them apart.

"I don't deny that," Essek said with a shrug. “I am sorry if I made you feel otherwise though.”

Verin was now staring at Essek unabashedly. He wasn’t even sure that he had known that apologies were even part of Essek’s vocabulary (outside of the political niceties that Essek had always been well versed in). Their childhood was scattered with examples Verin could point too-bothered Essek, annoyed Essek, cold Essek. Cold Essek had always been Verin’s least favorite, the one that treated Verin like his existence was a chore he just had to get through. During their sibling arguments, Essek would just simply pretend Verin didn’t exist...the record being for a week straight. Never once had Essek ever apologized for instigating or his part in their disagreements. On occasion, Essek could be considerate, but never kind. There was always a point . Whether it was to curry his favor or to repay a favor, it could be assumed that Essek wanted something. Essek was never apologetic . Verin had half a mind to slap himself, just to make sure he was well.

“Close your mouth or you’ll swallow a spider,” Essek said with a roll of his eyes, and Verin’s mouth closed with a click of his teeth.

“Who are you and what have you done with Essek?” Verin asked suspiciously.

“Stop acting like a child,” Essek told him with a very distinctly Essek huff that relieved Verin slightly. At least he knew that this was indeed his brother and not just a person masquerading around in his flesh suit. Verin was about to say something in that spirit when the servant walked back into the sitting room.

“The Denmother is requesting your presence now,” the servant said with a bow of his head. Essek ghosted in behind him, and Verin followed close behind.

Their mother was sitting at the table, flipping through some papers as she took sips from a glass of wine. As they walked in their mother’s eyes didn’t even flit up from the papers for a moment, she simply waved them in like she was summoning them forward. Verin felt like a child being called in for a scolding again as he moved forward. Essek’s face was a picture of cool indifference. Finally she stopped, clearly having decided that she had made them wait long enough. She set down the papers, and another servant scrambled to take them away.

“Denmother,” Essek greeted, bowing his head in respect, and Verin echoed the movement immediately.

“Essek,” Deirta said, standing up. She seemingly inspected Essek thoroughly. Though they were the same height, Essek was currently floating about an inch or two higher. It was at such moments that Verin was always surprised about how much Essek took after their mother. From the shape of their eyes, to the bridge of their noses, to the sharp lines of their delicate faces. Verin had always been closer in face and continence to their father. He wondered, often, what their mother thought of that. She seemed pleased with whatever she saw there and turned her attention to him. “Verin.”

“Denmother,” Verin said as his mother curled her cold fingers under his chin, and turned his head this way and that. Verin let her manipulate his movements, and was relieved when she let go.

“Would it kill you to keep your hair in order?” Deirta sighed, the breath coming exasperated. “It looks like you took a knife to the edges.”

“I did,” Verin said flatly. Essek made a noise like he was stifling a chuckle, casting a glance towards him Verin could see there was a muscle twitching in his jaw...like he was fighting a grin.

“ Scissors , Verin, are there no scissors in Bazzoxan?” Deirta chastised before casting a scolding glance at Essek. “You don’t have a leg to stand on, considering your ridiculous haircut.”  

“Forgive me, mother,” Essek said with a sweet, almost indulgent smile. “But the teachings of the Luxon do say that our bodies are merely transient vessels. Hair is of middling importance in the grand scheme of enlightenment.”

“Oh Luxon’s light protect me,” Deirta said, throwing up her hands. “Verin, promise me you’ll schedule an appointment to get the ends of your hair sorted out before you leave Rosohna.”  

“Of course,” Verin said, hoping this would be enough to placate her.

“And don’t you give me attitude, young man,” Deirta said, focusing her energy now on Essek with narrowed eyes. “Out of everyone in this household, I am not the one who needs a lecture on the Luxon’s philosophy.”

Verin felt himself tense up, as a pit opened large and wide in his stomach. Oh dear Light, he had thought this argument was over . Was Essek still pursuing his ridiculously dangerous ideas? It was a poorly kept secret that Essek had funny ideas when it came to the Luxon. Treasonous ideas, if Verin was being honest. Essek could never leave well enough alone, and had historically never sucked up his pride enough to let things lay where they were. There had been plenty of nights where Verin had hidden in his room with his head under a pillow and trying not to listen to their parents argue with Essek for hours, going around and around like they were lost in a maze. How many times had Verin prayed for Essek just to drop it? He couldn’t even count.

“Yes, mother,” Essek said simply. Verin stared at him. He didn’t look particularly bothered by their mother’s annoyance. Essek had always had nerves of steel...or maybe deadened nerves would be more accurate. Verin wasn’t quite sure his brother was capable of the emotions that would be expected from a person.  

“Umavi,” a servant said quietly. “The cook would like you to know that dinner is ready whenever you would like it.”

“Very well,” Deirta said, taking her seat back at the head of the table. Essek and Verin both sat at the table, Essek on the left side and Verin on the right. Verin focused solely on keeping his head down and shoveling food into his mouth. He knew rationally that this was all better than anything he would get from the barrack kitchens, but eating dinner late at night with the head cook Old Man Vuto as company was a far superior experience. He hadn’t realized how much so until just that moment. Essek and his mother spoke about the comings and goings of Rosohna, about people that Verin knew tangentially, and business that didn’t interest Verin at all. Essek grazed, picking at his plate but mostly just moving things around.

“-now that the war is over, I am hoping that perhaps Den Wenirila will realize that their insistence on the Northern Assault strategy has done them no favors in court and the Denmother will stop shouting every time she comes into the war room,” Essek sighed.

“Yes...now that the war is over in name, there are plenty of things that need to change,” Deirta said with a sip of her glass. “Now, we must think of the future.”

“Indeed,” Essek said, and Verin placed down his chopsticks. “Is this why you have called us?”

“Yes, to think of the future for Den Theylss and for the Kryn Dynasty as a whole,” Deirta said as she settled down her glass. She waved for the servants who took the plates away and then left them alone. “The Empire has returned the beacon they stole from us, and the lines of our territory remain the same. But if anything this conflict has raised our stature in the world. The Dwendalian Empire cannot pretend that the Dynasty are savage drow and monsters who live in some cursed hovel. They were forced to recognize us. This will send a message to those countries outside of the borders of Wildemount that we are a sovereign state with military power that cannot be discounted when it comes to global politics. According to some we have lost the battle, but I believe that we have won the war. You two are not the first I have called here to discuss this with me, but as Denmother I believe it is my duty to share with all of the den my vision.”

“ Global politics?” Verin asked.

“Who did the Tal’doreians beg for aid when the dragons nearly roasted their civilization into a well-done husk? It certainly wasn’t us. They begged the Dwendalians. And do you know why?” Deirta asked Verin. “Pretend that you paid attention during your history lessons, Verin. I paid good money for them.”  

“Ever since the drow left the Underdark there has been limited contact between the drow and the denizens of Tal’dorei,” Verin said quietly, repeating a lesson he had been taught long ago, trying not to feel as scolded as he did. “The only drow who remain have long since been twisted by Lolth and the dark entities who whisper in their hearts. Neighbors slaughter neighbors in the streets of their subterranean cities and the Denmothers and Denfathers rule with an authoritarian grip. Those who attempt to escape are often killed by once they reach the surface or are forced to live in secret enclaves as refuges without homes."

“That’s right. We used to not exist in their world outside of the horror stories they told their children to keep them from the dark at night, now we do,” Deirta told him, chin raised. “We have a golden opportunity to influence the world in a way we haven’t before.”

“And what would Den Theylss’ role in that influence be?” Essek asked as he threaded his fingers together.

“The Kryn are the rulers, the Mirimm are the enforcers. Theylss has always been the diplomats . You both know as well as I do that Den Theylss has always filled in the gap with everything the Empress needs. We will even do what the Empress doesn’t know she needs, for her own good of course,” Deirta said. “Den Theylss can be that for many others as well, beyond the Ashkeeper Peaks. Perhaps in an official capacity.”

“How?” Verin asked, frowning. “What does the Dynasty have that would make it worthwhile for any other country to risk the ire of the Empire?”

“We have the greatest resource. Time itself,” Deirta said. “I see no reason why our magics cannot benefit the world. Our cousins live in squalor and terror, it is our duty to return to liberate those remaining and make the peoples of Tal'dorei see drow in a new light."  

“You want to convert the other nations,” Essek said, his voice flat. Verin was staring at Deirta unabashedly.

“Of course they should all see the light of the Luxon,” Deirta explained. “It is doubtful they will reach true enlightenment, but why shouldn’t we aim to bring more souls under the protection of our lord? But just the promise of immortality is the most powerful promise there is, and Den Theylss can be the ambassadors for such a promise. Diplomacy is what we need in a post-war world in order to become a world power, not warmongering. If the Empress cannot see that, then we can make Quana see it. She has been the more reasonable one as of late.”

“What are you implying?” Essek asked, for the first time there was an edge in his voice, an eyebrow raised.

“You have only ever been in the war room, Essek. Not in war. Verin has more experience than you in that regard, but still you are both young and inexperienced and still haven’t died a death for your country,” Deirta sighed. “War is a horrible thing. Bloodshed is a horrible thing, and it tends to be unnecessary and gruesome. It tends to bring up all sorts of feelings and instincts.”

“Are you implying that the Empress isn’t well?” Essek pressed.

“If Leylas Kryn doesn’t see things our way, it is our duty to persuade her of the correct course of action no matter the cost,” Deirta said with a smile. “Our country’s motto is for our den, our country, our Empress, and our Light. There is a reason that den is first.”

What does the Luxon see in you? Verin wanted to demand. Deirta wasn’t righteous, she wasn’t good, she was a monster trying to use the Luxon’s light for her own gain. Of course it should be a good thing for the den to work for peace and prosperity for all drow, but somehow she had even managed to taint that goal with her poison. He didn’t understand it. He couldn’t understand it. No matter what he did, how good he could be, somehow they were all just cogs in the machinations of her mind. She just had to have some kind of wisdom that Verin didn’t, some way of understanding that made it all make sense. And yet, Verin still felt sick to his stomach. What they were speaking on was nearly treason.

“I will do my duty to my countrymen,” Verin said as he stood up, gathering all of his courage in his spine. “I am the Taskhand of Bazzoxan. I am a son of Theylss and of you but I consider my obligation to the residents of that city to be my concern first and foremost. Denmother, I will respect your decisions, but I ask that you allow me to continue to prove myself in my own way by following my own path.”

“I see,” Deirta said with a disappointed sigh. “I’m sure I could work out a more profitable assignment here in Rosohna or even in Tal’dorei if the opportunity presents itself.”

“I shall endeavor to work to prove myself by my own merit, though the offer humbles me,” Verin said, bowing deeply.  

“And you, Essek, what do you think?” Deirta asked, her gaze sliding over to Essek.

“Frankly, I don’t particularly care about politics,” Essek said bluntly. “Nor do I care about the conditions of the drow of Tal’dorei. Generations ago they made their bed, and should choose to lie in it. Of course you are right that honor to our den is first and foremost our concern, and should you choose to make moves towards Tal’dorei and beyond I will support you. But I also will advise that this gamble is high risk.”  

“And should it fail, you will abandon the den to it’s fate?” Deirta asked.

“I am the Shadowhand, if it looks like your gamble shall fail I will stop it before it gets to that point,” Essek said.

“Is that a threat, Essek?” Deirta asked him, eyes cold.

“Yes,” Essek said with a smile. “The den is first, as you said. I would think you expect nothing less of me.”

“Essek!” Verin hissed, utterly horrified.

“There aren’t many who would have the audacity to scheme their way into being Denfather upon their first life, especially in a house of an Umavi,” Deirta scoffed.

“I have no interest in being Denfather,” Essek said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “But should the occasion arise I will find a suitable candidate to replace you.”

“Only one of us here is truly replaceable, think long and hard about your recent decisions before you come to the conclusion about who that is,” Deirta warned him, eyes flashing dangerously. Essek’s shoulders squared and his jaw tensed. “Especially considering the company you have been keeping nowadays.”

Verin wanted to laugh at that idea. Essek? Keeping company? It was ridiculous. But based off of Essek’s frigid demeanor it apparently wasn’t a joke considering that if he had looked frigid before he was now clocking in at below freezing.

“I think this conversation is over,” Essek said as he stood up abruptly, there was something dangerous in his gaze. It was something sharp enough that it could make a person bleed.

“Clearly,” Deirta said shortly.

“Verin,” Essek addressed him clearly for the second time that night. “Would you like to stay here, or would you rather stay in my home? I have a guest room prepared.”

Who are you? Verin wanted to ask.

“I’ll take you up on that then,” was what Verin said instead.

________________________________

Verin had never been to Essek’s home. He had received it after Verin’s assignment in Bazzoxan, and there was certainly no reason to come visit his brother. But Essek’s tower reminded Verin much of a graveyard, cold and impersonal. He could imagine clearly his brother haunting the hallways in the middle of the night, a phantom to his own dreams, walking about in patterns as he tried to work through some esoteric problem that didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. There were strange things though; there were books slightly out of place, extra papers, knickknacks, and things that told a story that Verin couldn’t quite piece together. The company Essek had been keeping? Their mother’s jab still echoed freshly in his ears. Had Essek been seeing someone their mother hadn’t approved of? Verin just couldn’t see that being the case. As far as Verin knew, Essek had never had any romantic entanglements nor shown an interest in such things.

“You look like you’ve been stewing on something for a while now,” Essek said as he sat down, discarding his mantle thoughtlessly. He was smaller than Verin remembered, thinner too. He looked worn down by whatever was eating at him, until he was nothing but edges and spite. “Go ahead, before your brain explodes.”

“What was mother talking about?” Verin asked directly, seeing no purpose in dancing around the point. “What company?”

“It won’t come as a shock to you,” Essek said with a sigh as he put out glasses and set out the wine. “But I lost the friends I made.”

“Friends?” Verin asked, seizing on that impossible fact.

“I should be insulted by your surprise at that part of my statement, but I know, I was surprised too,” Essek said quietly, looking off to the side as he poured a more than generous quantity of wine for himself. “But it doesn’t matter any more.”

“What did you do to lose them?” Verin asked as he sat down. Essek took a breath, and then another. He was clearly gathering his thoughts as he did so, finally he gave up whatever mental game he was playing.

“I think there’s something wrong with me, Verin,” Essek admitted, meeting Verin’s gaze openly. “I used to think...I didn’t understand you at all growing up. I thought I was better, but...I think there’s something wrong with me.”  

“Essek…” Verin said, feeling something in his gut shift at Essek’s expression that twisted like he was in pain.

“I made a mistake, I did something...well, I did something for my own gain and I don’t even feel bad about it though I should. I only felt bad that the people close to me...that it hurt them,” Essek said scrubbing at his face. “I can’t understand it. I am trying so hard, I put the pieces together rationally, but I just can't make myself feel as I should."

"How do you think you should feel?" Verin asked.

"Guilty? Awful? Sad ?" Essek offered. "I just feel nothing, and then get frustrated that I feel nothing!"

"I can't help but admit that I'm at a loss for why you want my advice," Verin said quietly.

"Verin…" Essek sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Stop acting slow. I don't have anyone else to ask for advice."

"You do realize how depressing that is, right?" Verin asked him. "Me? You want to ask me ? You don't even like me!"

"By the Light! You are so dense !" Essek snapped and discarded common and began hissing at him in their first language. "Fine, here's me being honest. Yes, Verin, you are my annoying little brother. I find your savior complex insulting to my intelligence, I never found your jokes about my height funny, and you snore so loud I considered smothering you with a pillow because Mother and Father forced us to sleep into the same room-!"

"When our cousin's room was being remodeled? If you are being serious about the constant threat to my life as a child I will actually kill you, what in the nine hells Essek-!"

"So yes, Verin. I don't like you. But you are my brother. You know me better than anyone else in the world, we have a shared history. And I also know you don't like me, so I can trust you to be honest. So please, Verin, help me ," Essek said, his voice desperate, and his chest heaving with his desperation. "You are normal and I'm not and I need to know what I'm doing wrong."

"I don't think you are doing anything wrong...actively," Verin tried to explain, holding out his arms in an attempt to placate him. "You have just...you know, always been like this?"

"Like what?"

".. evil?"

"Well great," Essek said sarcastically, throwing his hands up. "Thank you, that makes me feel so much better."

"What do you want me to say?" Verin asked defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. "You didn't even cry at our father's funeral!"

"There wasn't a body!"

"Why does that matter?" Verin demanded, slamming his hand on the table. "You wouldn't have cried anyways! That’s the problem!"

"I can't fake it," Essek said, sounding honestly distressed. "How would faking it make anything better? If I don't feel it I don't feel it! I can't make myself be different, gods know I want to be."

"What do you want to be, Essek, honestly?" Verin asked his brother.

"I want to be the kind of person who the people I care about don't hate," Essek said quietly. "I'm just not sure it's possible."

"Essek, be serious, do you think the people who you became friends with would like you if you weren't acting like yourself?" Verin asked him, eyebrows shooting up.

"I don't know, it seems like it."

“Essek, really?”

Essek grimaced and downed his entire glass in one fell swoop. For a moment he seemed to truly consider the question, before just shaking his head and giving Verin a rueful smile. It was, perhaps, the most genuine expression that Verin had seen from his brother in years. For a moment he had to remember to breathe, because there he was. This was the Essek that Verin remembered between the pages of old textbooks and ducking between the pillars of their home. That Essek hadn’t been perfect, nor kind, but at least Essek was his brother. That had meant something in Verin’s life, a life that was full of starts and stops and highs and crushing lows all dictated by a woman who Verin was sure had never even seen them as people with lives outside of her. Verin wondered if it made her proud, how thoroughly she had destroyed them.  

"I wonder if I loved them, or the Essek I thought I could be with them," Essek said mournfully, looking at his hands arranged in his lap. "I wonder if I'm grieving them or that Essek. Grief...it’s new to me, as many things are these days."

“If they only liked who you were pretending to be, they never liked you at all,” Verin told him, settling his hand on Essek’s shoulder after a long pause. Essek tensed, but didn’t fight the touch. Verin was sure that he felt as Verin did, like he was crawling out of his own damn skin. But Verin pushed through it, because he could at least give this to Essek.

“That Essek would have probably been a better brother, the brother you deserved,” Essek said with a heavy sigh, pointedly not answering the other question. Verin was positive that Essek didn’t want to verbalize the answer.

“You aren’t technically the only brother I have...but you are my only brother ,” Verin said with a shrug as he removed his hand. “It’s not a question about what I deserve. Frankly, I could have been a better brother to you many times. I let you face the brunt of everything alone, and I’m sorry for that.”

“There were many times I loathed you for that,” Essek said, eyes closed and leaning back against the sofa. “But I also knew that I could handle it...handle her. You were a child...so, it wasn’t your fault. Out of the two of us, I knew I would survive.”

“You were a child too,” Verin said and Essek’s eyelid cracked open.

“I wasn’t a child as you were,” Essek said gently. “I wasn’t like you.”

“You are different from me, that doesn’t mean you weren’t a child,” Verin argued.

“Did I ever tell you that I was there when you were born?” Essek asked, startling Verin with the sudden change of topic. A smile pulled at his teeth. “I haven’t, have I? I remember it because Mother had just pulled me out of the school for my special tutoring. I was so special, I was twelve, and when I arrived home Mother was pregnant with you . She hadn’t even told me, I just showed up and she was ready to pop.”

“She didn’t tell you?” Verin asked, befuddled.

“Of course not,” Essek said with a wave. “She never wrote to me when I was away, and I never came back. All of twenty-four hours after coming home there she was screaming bloody murder in labor, and then she was screaming at me because I wasn’t paying attention to my studies. When I informed her that was going to be impossible with her screeching like a dying roc she threatened to pop my eyeballs out with her nails.”

Verin couldn’t help the laughter that escaped his throat, Essek just rolled his eyes.

“Anyways, to make a long story short, I was bitchy because I finally thought that Mother was paying attention to me and then Mother had to go and push you out not even one day later. Father handed you to me, and said, this is Verin. And I remember thinking you were the ugliest thing I ever saw-”

“Hey!”

“But you were there. And that was enough,” Essek said simply, coming to a neat and concise conclusion. “You have always been enough, Verin. I know that one day...well...this truce of ours may not last, but I wanted you to know that. I never wished that you were anyone else...even if you made me want to kill you and often I didn’t like you. But you were the only one I ever felt close to. You are my brother and maybe the only person in this world that I can consider my friend and though I’m not sure the feeling was mutual...I...”

“Thank you, Essek,” Verin said, his throat feeling oddly sore. “I felt the same.”

For a moment Verin could feel the weight of a hundred years between them. A hundred and ten years should have meant nothing to them, they were children of a soul unbound by time itself. And yet, all of those memories were tangible and meaningful. He and Essek had never known anything else and Verin wondered if that made them who they were. For the first time in Verin’s life, he believed that maybe Essek saw them that way too. Perhaps that was one thing they could agree upon, in a life that was so tangled up in complexity.

“Well, it’s getting late. I’ll teleport you to Bazzoxan tomorrow,” Essek said, getting up slowly, clearly not addressing Verin’s emotions or his sentiment. “The guest bedroom is the first room on the right at the top of the stairs.”

“Wait...Essek,” Verin said and Essek paused, turned, and looked at him. “I’m sorry about your friends. I hope that things work out.”

“Good night, Verin,” Essek said, before floating away.

Verin wondered if he was trying to escape him, or if Essek couldn’t dare to dream.

[littlest-dark-age]

Can I have a ship request please?

Marauders Era please!

My name is Iris

I'm kind, I love learning languages, i love doing domestic things, i love cooking and baking as well as watching cooking and baking shows, I love learning new things, I love history and English (mainly creative writing), research and development and Chemistry, I love reading and writing but have a hard time putting my story's on paper, lovvvvve to read would seriously make a career out of it if I could, I love animals( seriously if they were to bite me I would apologize), i hate scary things, I tend to mother (sometimes grandmother) people or act like their wife without realizing it(seriously it happens with EVERYBODY),(I think I would get along famously with molly weasley), I don't think being blood related makes you family I think it makes you relatives and that family is the people you choose blood or not, I tend to say things I don't mean but sometimes do whenever people I loved hurt me, I can hold a grudge but eventually I just either let it go or cut them off depending on what happened, it takes time for me to warm up to people but if I do and I love you I will go down swinging for you, I tend to become withdrawn around people I don't know but when I am with friends I tend to be more confident and extroverted but when alone I am more reserved, I love and feel deeply, and I want a love that is epic, intimate and passionate that never seems to die, I want to have kids maybe a lot maybe a few and be an amazing mom and have a probably unrealistically perfect marriage with an incredible man who will be an amazing dad and husband, and to have an unbelievably happy life and family. I have high standards and will wait for what I want and will not settle for less because why should I? I tend to be calm under pressure (grace under fire), whenever I read I tend to fall for the guy who is reserved but is a sarcastic little shit as well is kind and polite, humble and an animal in the sack (🤭😳), loyal and unwavering. My type tends to be men with accents, family oriented, loyal, kind and generous. Who loves friends like their family. When in a relationship is also passionate, loving, intimate, caring, happy, who will read with me or him to me or me to him, will bake with me, will slow dance with me in the kitchen, who can be together and talk about everything or nothing, can be silent in each other's company and content and at peace with it, can also be fun and adventurous, will wake me up at 3:00 a.m. to go see the stars cause that's when they're clearest and stay in bed if not to sleep in then just to be together and be content, can walk together wherever or go to the store and it's great or have a mud or snowball fight and make you feel alive more than ever. Who will communicate and compromise with me and not have screaming matches because that's not how we are. Who believes in a love that is truly a one and only. I want a lot out of life and I won't apologize for it.

Wooow that was a lot. Sorry I got carried away 😳🥴

P.s. I love your writing 🥰💖

It's very much a toss up of remus lupin or regulus black for me, leaning a tad bit more towards remus due to his overall nature! Although regulus would also be a very close second but there's a few issues, mainly how he handles his anger and things alike.

Remus would adore being able to sit in silence and read, or even reading aloud to you (or vice versa) especially if it was rather moody outside. Fixing you your preferred hot drink while fixing himself a cup of tea, making sure you had your snacks in your lap and a bar of chocolate in his free hand. He's patient to a fault so when the two of you do have arguments, he lets you say everything you'd like to before speaking. It can come off as him not listening and being distant but really he just doesn't want to cut you off and wants to hear all you have to say at that moment before offering his own thoughts so you don't misunderstand what he's trying to communicate.

He'd tease you for the way you want your romance so sweet but he honestly can't say he doesn't love it, it's a delicacy he's never been allowed and he loves you for showing it to him with the gentlest hands he's felt.

He has a very similar stance on family being able to be found and it's just just who you're born with, look at him with James, sirius and peter. That's his family despite not sharing a drop of blood between them and the way they all were raised so differently.

Rem would love to teach you welsh if you wanted to learn, adoring how flustered you get when you hear him say pet names and claims of love in the language he seems to adore himself.

He need a bit of a mother hen and the others will say so, although he might try to stop your fussing over him and things alike. He's get the most beautiful flush on his cheeks when he hears you scold him for the self deprivation you'd heard him say. Always been told he's a monster and other things similar, he'd never quite thought of himself as much.

Overall, you'd make him feel like he needs to drop to his knees and worship the ground you walk on and the area you allow him to share with you. Being such a strong person and not hiding away from the world is something he only wishes he could share with you. So, until he's able to do that, he'll settle for trying to be the best person you want and deserve

I hope you enjoy! And danke!

[vima000]

Saving Supergirl Chapter One - Crash Landing

Before You Read: I suggest reading my introduction real quick if you want to get a better understanding of what this fic is about.

https://vima000.tumblr.com/post/632471235536814080/new-fic-update-saving-supergirl

-=-=-=-

EARTH-9

When Nora West-Allen suggested hopping Earths to see how others are recovering from the last few weeks after Crisis, Lorraine should have realized not everything was going to go to plan. Usually when Nora and her go off on their so called ���adventures” by themselves or with the Legends, they end up getting caught up in some kind of trouble and this time was no different.

“Okay I know that you wanted to visit the Titans, but now that we have can we please go back home to Earth 72? I still have to finish writing my term paper on molecular physics before my moms realize we disappeared again,” Lorraine complained to Nora as they left the Titans Tower in San Francisco. Ever since Crisis, Nora has been dying to check on her other friends since the large wave of anti-matter hit and destroyed the multiverse. Luckily Oliver’s sacrifice on Earth Prime helped rebirth the multiverse, bringing back some old earths along with new ones.

“Loosen up Lori, everyone knows you can write that paper in your sleep. Plus I think we still have enough charge to visit my parents back on Earth Prime, they don’t even know I'm alive yet.” Nora retorted as they entered an alleyway. Lori was going to complain again about being cautious with the amount of charge left in their courier bracelets until she looked up at Nora and saw the hope and determination in her eyes to see her parents again and apologize. Lori knows how guilty she felt about the events that lead to her death in the old timeline and why she has avoided visiting them until she was ready.

“Fine.” Lori conceded with a pout and Nora did a little happy dance.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Okay i’m so excited! It will be a big surprise!” Nora exclaimed as Lori shook her head with a grin at her friend's antics. 

“All right and hurry up already, what’s the coordinates again?” Lori inquired, but when she turned to look at Nora, she was already pushing her button to transport. 

“Oops.” 

“Nora wait!” Lori exclaimed, trying to grab her shoulder so she could travel with her but as her fingers were about to reach Nora, she disappeared into a bright light. “Great. No Nora, don't worry about me, it’s not like I have never visited Earth Prime before.” Lori mumbled to herself sarcastically and set her courier to Earth Prime. Seeing as she had no specific coordinates Lori entered a rough estimate of National City coordinates. She pressed the GO button and hoped for the best as a familiar bright light engulfed her body.

EARTH PRIME

“Kara, go home. You look exhausted,” Alex mused as she entered the DEO breakroom, where Kara was currently laying on one of the couches, sprawled out and pouting with her cape covering her as a blanket. 

When she went to go and prevent an attack on L-Corp Luthor-Corp, she didn’t expect to be fighting a meta-human with the ability to teleport. Every time she swung, he would disappear and reappear just to punch her and disappear again. She spent what felt like forever frustrated and over exerting herself until Lena stepped in with a device that acted like an EMP and stopped him from teleporting long enough for Kara to put meta-cuffs on him. Just after doing so, Kara turned to thank Lena but she already left as DEO agents entered the room with Lex, wearing a big grin witnessing the cold shoulder Lena gave her.

After the fight, Kara took off from the balcony and headed straight to the breakroom to grab a tub of ice-cream and sulk. Still pouting, Kara sat up and faced Alex.

“She acts like I'm invisible Alex! All I want to do is make things right but she won’t ever give me the opportunity to. All I want to do is explain why I kept it from her for so long but how can I when the only time I see here is in a meeting or in an emergency?!” Kara huffed out and tossed the now empty ice cream carton into the trash bin.

“You will figure it out, have a little hope.” Alex joked and lightly nudged her leg with her boot, which brought a little smile to Kara’s face. 

“Ugh, you’re right, I just have to be more patient.” Kara replied.

“Good luck with that, you are the least patient person I know.” Alex smirked as she dodged a pillow being thrown at her.

“Quit it Alex!” Kara exclaimed and the two girls laughed. Then Brainy walked in with a tablet and started spewing a hundred words at once about particle traces and space breaches that popped up in Central City and National City.

“Breathe Brainy and start over.” Alex said as she put a hand on his shoulder to relax him.

“My apologies, Director Danvers, we’ve just received readings of a new sort of breach, similar to Cisco’s but also different that popped up here and in Central City. I’ve connected with Team Flash but nothing unusual has happened yet. They said they would be on standby in case of any attack.” Brainy explains as Kara goes to clip her cape back onto her shoulders. 

“Well where is the particle reading located in our city, I can go check it out from an aerial view.” Kara suggested, already heading towards the balcony for take off. Brainy told her the reading was located in the park across from Luther-Corp and to be careful in case it’s a trap. Alex reassured her they will be on standby in case anything happens.

With that knowledge Kara takes off in the air and heads over to the park. At first, when she arrives she doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary until she sees a dark haired figure laying by the statue recently put up by Lex of himself to commemorate his role as a Paragon. Kara has always considered chopping off the head one night with her heat vision but it would be too obvious since everyone adores Lex in this reality.

Cautiously, Kara descended in front of the unconscious figure until she was just a couple feet away from her. As she was about to clear her throat to get her attention, the stranger groaned and rubbed the side of her head. 

“Well that’s certainly new.” The stranger mumbled aloud with a slight Irish accent. 

Kara then figured now would be a good time to announce herself and said, “Excuse me miss, did you need some help?”

Lorraine startled and whipped her head around and dropped her jaw looking up at Kara, her mom… except it’s not her mom, Lori had to remind herself. Blinking a few times, Lori stood up and brushed off her jeans and cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry Superwoman, I didn’t mean to cause any problems, or damages.” Lori finally said as she addressed a curious Kryptonian but winced after she realized her slip up.

“Superwoman? What damages? Are you hurt?” Kara asked as she did a quick x-ray check of the woman to make sure she is in fact okay. 

The woman pointed to the statue and Kara followed her gaze. Kara noticed a small head shaped dent near the podium base. When she went to ask how that got there, she made eye contact with strikingly familiar blue-green eyes and facial features. She just couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Who are you?” Kara inquired. Lori shifted her feet uneasily under Kara’s gaze, not knowing what to do in this situation. She can’t give out her usual alias, Lara Kent, which is on her fake ID for when she and Nora go to other earths since Kara will see right through that lie.  Instead of answering she looked at her courier bracelet and attempted to contact Nora but it seemed to have run out of battery.

“No, no, no, no! This cannot be happening to me! First Nora and now this.” Lorraine uttered out as she began to pace nervously. Not knowing what to do in this situation she attempted to distract her not-mom and pointed to a random building in her sights. 

“Oh no! There is a fire!” Lori tried to distract her as she attempted to escape, except Kara didn’t buy it and radioed Alex over coms while putting a firm hand on Lori’s forearm so she wouldn't attempt to run.

“Hey Alex,” Kara said as she activated her earpiece, “ I don’t know how to explain this but I think I found out what, or rather who is responsible for the particle readings that Brainy received.”

“Okay, bring them in for questioning so we can get some answers.” Alex responded and the coms cut out.

Grabbing a hold of the stranger, Kara put on specialized cuffs and took off into the sky towards the DEO. 

[imagine-loki]

Gifted

Title: Gifted (Sequel to Giftless)

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 49/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: 

Imagine that you are Stark’s niece and you secretly share a strong relationship with Loki since he entered the crew. One day you get hurt so bad during a mission that you are about to die.  Loki knows a spell that will save you and share his immortality with you but you and he will be linked forever sharing thoughts, pain, emotions…

RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS:  Also on AO3 click here

You were studying on your couch in the common-room when a piece of paper appeared among your notes in a small flash of gold light.  You weren’t expecting any messages. Especially not any traveling by magic parchment.  Those only came from two places: Loki or Frigga.  And coming from gold magic.  That could only mean that it had come from Frigga. 

You glanced over at Loki and saw that hadn’t noticed the magic or looked up from his book. Which meant he wasn’t supposed to know about this message.  Your heart dropped, knowing it couldn’t be good.  You finally looked down at the slip of parchment. 

On it was written familiar words you had memorized for the soulbond ceremony in Asgard as well as a note from Mama Frigga herself:  Learn the words. Learn them well. The day is coming when you will need them. ~Frigga

That was ominous and your heart filled with dread that you had to keep off of your face so Loki couldn’t see your dread and terror. Frigga’s abilities to see the future were stronger than Loki’s. From what you knew, she was never wrong. You were tempted to show the note to Loki, but you knew that Frigga hadn’t sent it to him for a reason. He wasn’t supposed to know.  If he knew, it would interfere with the future that Frigga had seen. So you tucked the note in with your school notes, after reciting the words ceremonial words to yourself once. If Frigga was telling you that you would need them, you knew that it was true.

You tried to distract yourself with your homework after that, though it was difficult to concentrate.  You hadn’t realized you were humming to yourself while you were studying until Loki commented. “Darling, I love you dearly, but please get a different song stuck in your head. You have had the duet from Superhero Musical stuck in your head for three days straight and it is driving me crazy,” he grumbled. 

You just laughed at him, but at least he hadn’t heard you reciting the soulbond oaths in your mind on repeat instead.  “Poor baby,” you replied and stuck your tongue out at him. You had thought you’d blocked out the part of your brain that kept singing that particular song on repeat. Loki had taught you a lot about compartmentalizing your mind so you could focus on different tasks, and block out telepathy when you didn’t want to use it. Unfortunately for him, you had shoved the song in the compartment with the thoughts of the people around you, so it was annoying him as he could overhear it unintentionally. You moved it to its own compartment and set up another one to repeat the ceremonial words over and over and over again. You were not going to doubt Frigga’s word that you would need them and you were determined to be prepared when the moment came.

“Thank you,” Loki said when you had moved the song. You nodded and got back to your notes.

“Loki, can you sub patrol tonight for Pepper? She has a meeting tomorrow,” Tony asked that evening. 

Loki inclined his head, willing to do Pepper the favor. “Will you be alright?” he asked you after he’d agreed and Tony had left to get ready. 

You rolled your eyes. “Lo, I’m fine. Try not to kill my uncle while you’re out on patrol with him.”

 Loki chuckled, kissed you goodbye, and left on patrol with Tony as soon as they were ready. 

You finished your homework, then vanished everything upstairs except for the piece of paper Frigga had sent you. You recited the words aloud a few times, closing your eyes to not be tempted to look at the page. You vanished it upstairs as well when you had, then turned on the TV, reading a book while you waited for Loki and Tony to come home.

You were dozing on the couch when they finally got back. You stirred when Loki lifted you from the couch in loving exasperation. “You should not have waited up,” he scolded. It was half-hearted at best. 

You woke enough to look up at him and see that he was hurt. “You should not have gotten hurt on patrol,” you scolded back, trying to match his accent. 

He laughed while you reached up a glowing hand to heal the cut on his face. “You have been practicing,” he replied.

“Oi, Kat, can you heal my broken arm instead of loverboy’s face?” Tony grumbled from nearby.  His suit was crushed over one of his arms

“Lo, set me down,” you told Loki. He sighed, but did as he was told, setting you on your feet. You went over to Tony. “How’d you break your arm?” you grumbled at him as you vanished the crumpled bit of armor so you could see the wound.

“We got in a fight with Colossus. That guy’s metal arm packs quite…well a punch,” Tony laughed. You rolled your eyes, but placed a glowing blue hand on his arm, healing it and the other cuts and bruises he had in an instant.

“There, all fixed,” you told him. You turned to Loki to look him over.

“I am fine,” he tried telling you, but you caught the hitch in his voice. He was usually better at lying than that. 

You rolled your eyes. “Let me see,“ you ordered in your healer voice. He sighed and vanished his top. His ribs were a massive bruise. "Loki,” you sighed and placed both of your hands against the wound. “You try to carry me to bed when your ribs are broken? Dummy,” you scolded him. 

He chuckled. “It is truly not that bad,” he tried to insist.

“Three of your ribs are broken,” you reminded him. The healing only took a minute, “but they would’ve taken days otherwise. “Any other injuries you’re hiding?“ you glared up at him.

"No, lady,” he replied formally.

“Good, silly Trickster,” you grumbled at him, grumpy with lack of sleep and healing magic. You turned to Tony.  “Uncle Tony, I made Pepper go up to bed with a sleep spell a couple hours ago. She wouldn’t stop worrying and was going to throw herself into a panic attack. She’s in your bed, but don’t expect her to wake,“

Tony nodded, trusting your judgment when it came to healing. "Thanks for taking care of her. It’s time for all of us to get to bed.” You all agreed and trudged up the stairs to your beds.

“Are you sure you aren’t hiding any more injuries?” you asked Loki when you reached your floor.

“You do not trust me?” he asked instead.

“I trust you to claim you’re not injured so I won’t use your magic to heal you,” you countered. 

He chuckled. “That is a fair point,” he finally admitted as you walked into your suite. “Shall I disrobe so you can see that I tell the truth?” he asked with a wicked gleam in his eyes. He was expecting you to blush and give a polite refusal.

You put your hands on his hips, calling his bluff. “Yes, you shall,” you told him firmly. He gaped at you, his eyes wide. You just stared him down until a flash of green magic had him down to his underwear. You had seen more before. You worked as a healer after all. 

You went into healer mode now, looking him over to make sure he really wasn’t more injured than he’d claimed. Of course it was entirely for medical reasons that you looked over his very aesthetically pleasing body. 

Entirely. 

And of course there were no kisses once you were convinced that he wasn’t hiding any more injuries. 

Nope nope, none at all.

*

“Your friends seemed to have survived your last attack,” Balder greeted you pleasantly as the dream materialized around you that night. You had been waiting for him to attack your dreams again. You were surprised it had taken him this long actually. It had been weeks since the attack on the compound.

“Hi, Balder. Long time no see,” you greeted him pleasantly, summoning real clothes to face him in instead of your pajamas. He looked taken aback that you weren’t afraid of him. “And yeah, everyone survived the last attack,”

“Why are you not afraid, pet?” he asked. “You were terrified to see me last time.” He was disconcerted that you weren’t afraid.  He wanted you afraid. 

You shrugged, enjoying taunting him. "All you’re doing is keeping me from getting a good night’s sleep when I have a test tomorrow,” you replied, making your voice sound annoyed an exasperated.

“You’re not afraid that I will make you take out your friends again? You are no longer in isolation,” he reminded you. He was trying to get an emotional response. You could play this game.

“Yes, and I no longer have that stupid power you forced on me. Our Lady Mother found the spell to remove it,” you replied pleasantly, also reminding him that you were his sister by marriage, just to annoy him. “Everyone I love is safe from that particular power, so all you can do is harass me. If you’re going to, just get on with it. I have an early day tomorrow,” you taunted him.

He rushed you. Predictable when you got his temper on the rise.  You pulled two daggers, not quite trusting your magic in the dream world, and ducked and dodged his blows. You managed to teleport out of the way when he surrounded you with clones again. You’d learned from your last dream match.

“You will join you one way or the other,” he promised. You paused your dodging of the clones one second too long at his words and ended up with a knife to the gut for your mistake.

You cursed. Loudly and creatively.

The real Balder grabbed you, holding you by the throat off of the ground. “I will come for you, little pet. None of the other little humans have been able to hold the powers I have tried to gift them with,” he purred while you struggled for air. “So you better wake up and let my baby brother heal that wound for you,”

With that he tossed you from the dream.

You woke, gasping for air, surrounded by ice, blood, and healing magic. Your stomach was bleeding where Balder had stabbed it in the dream. “Kat? What happened?” Loki demanded. 

You was too busy gasping for air and fighting back pain to answer him. “Balder,” you finally managed to get out.

“Damn, there’s so much blood,” Loki said. His hands were covered as he worked on healing the wound. It only took him a couple minutes to finish the healing, but it felt like forever. Once you were healed, Loki pulled you into his arms. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him tightly, ignoring that both of you were covered in your blood. Again. You finally caught your breath now that you were healed. “Can you tell me what happened?” Loki asked you gently when he saw your breathing had relaxed. 

“Over tea?” you asked. He chuckled, but nodded. You always got tea after nightmares.

He teleported you downstairs to the kitchen. “Kat!? What the hell?” Tony’s voice came from where he was standing next to the stove. He had jumped in shock when you appeared before him. He ran over to you, fear in his eyes.

“Uncle Tony, it’s stupidly early, why are you awake?“ you asked. He knelt down in front of you and lifted your shirt. “Uncle Tony!” you protested, trying to shove his hands away.

“Kat, you’re covered in blood!” he protested. 

You looked down and saw that your pajamas were soaked in your blood. “Oh. Loki healed the wound already,” you told him. “I guess we neglected to change before coming down to get tea,”

“Seriously, Kat, tell me what the fuck happened!” Tony yelled, glaring at Loki like this was his fault.  He still always blamed Loki.

You sighed. "Balder attacked my dream again. He stabbed me in the dream and it came true in real life,” you explained. “No one’s ever down here this early. Why are you?” you asked drawing the attention back to Tony. 

“I couldn’t and decided to make a cup of tea,” Tony explained.  He usually didn’t drink tea, but apparently tonight had been the exception. 

You laughed. "Apparently it runs in the family,” you explained your laughter. Loki moved to pour the tea for all three of us. Tony had somehow decided to make enough for more than just himself.

“Did you get attacked too?” Tony asked Loki.

“No, this is all Kat’s blood,” Loki replied as you sat around our usual table in the dining room with your tea. Someone had replaced your table with a four person table. You still didn’t know who had done it, or really remembered when it had happened. You had all just accepted the change.

There was a couple minutes of silence before the boys stared at you, silently demanding answers to why you woke bleeding. You sighed and spoke to your cup of tea, explaining the dream and everything Balder had said.

“He’s been trying to implant powers into others?” Tony demanded. 

You nodded your agreement “That’s what it sounded like.”

“At least he has not been successful,” Loki commented, looking for any bright spot. 

You nodded again, but you wasn’t sure that was something to really be glad about. You worried over the people he had tried to put powers into, and hoped they were alright.

“We should all get some sleep,” Tony said awhile later after all the tea was gone. You nodded and vanished all of the dishes, magically clean, and put away. “That’s a useful skill imp,” Tony told you with a smirk. You smiled at him, glad he could still be normal. “Are you sure you’re ok?” he asked.

“I’m fine, Uncle Tony. That isn’t nearly the worst nightmare I’ve had,” you reminded him, or thought you’d reminded him, until you remembered that Tony didn’t know about your nightmares. You shrugged before he could ask. “I’ve had bad dreams for years. I didn’t tell you cuz I didn’t want you to think I was weak when I had no powers,”

“The night your parents died?” he asked too astutely.

“That particular nightmare doesn’t bother me much anymore,” you told him hurriedly. “I’m fine,” you promised. You stood and went to give him a hug before you remembered that you were covered in blood. “I’d give you a hug, but…”

He nodded and laughed. “Get some sleep, imp,” he laughed at you. You touched his shoulder and he gave you a smile. 

After a quick hot shower, and some magic to clean the bed of blood, you finally got back to sleep for a couple hours until your alarm went off for school.

[desperationandgin]

Strawberry Wine (Part 1, Chapter 10)

Rating: Mature

Author: desperationandgin

Previous Chapter

Also Read On: AO3

Summary: Claire and Jamie settle in their separate locations and write to one another.

Chapter 10: Kisses With Dreams

September 1, 1938

Jamie,

I promised I would write the moment I moved into my dormitory, and I can assure you that my unpacked suitcase is at the foot of the bed. Thank you for the surprise photographs of us in my purse; I hadn’t realized your father took any at the gathering, though I’ve never been more grateful. I realized belatedly that while I had two wonderful photographs of you, I didn’t have any of us together. It caused a tearful moment on the train. Fortunately, there was a kind Reverend sitting beside me; he distracted me with his own recollection of Jacobite history. It was interesting, but only made me want to return to you more.

I’m no stranger to new beds in unfamiliar places, though this is the first time I can’t unloosen the knot that’s formed in the pit of my stomach. I’ve never missed someone before, with so much of myself. That last kiss at the station, in front of God and everyone no less, will have to get me through until December, won’t it? I think even Jenny blushed.

I hope you’re settling alright. Were you and Ian able to share an apartment as you’d wanted? Do you have a wonderful view? By the time you receive this, you’ll have started your classes; please tell me how you’re finding them, and I’ll let you know how school is here, as well, in my next letter. We begin on Monday, and I’m not sure if I’m worried or if it’s just nerves causing me to doubt myself. What if I’m not capable enough when it comes to real-life scenarios? What if I have the drive to help others, but am rubbish at nursing?

I already know you’re shaking your head in protest. It’s nerves, and by this time next month, I’ll be settled and things will be fine. That is what you were going to say, wasn’t it?

In half an hour, I’ll have to attend an informal dinner to meet my fellow classmates, so I suppose I should at least unpack a suitable outfit. I don’t want to stop writing; if I stop writing, then I’ll have to face the fact that you’re not really here, listening to everything I’m telling you.

Sorry for the smear of ink. I’m homesick, I suppose, only you are my home, and I already miss you desperately.

Please give my best to Ian. Write soon, and put me out of my misery.

Yours,

Claire

The weekend before I left for London, Brian hosted a two-day party of sorts for all the tenants he rented land to. It was grand and festive, with enough food to feed an army and no shortage of laughter. Old friends arrived, including a delightful man named Mr. Raymond whom I could remember cropping up throughout my childhood; someone who brought me rare toys and exotic candies when visiting. He hadn’t expected to see me, I knew, but still managed to gift me something unique: a dragonfly encased in amber. When I tried to find Jamie to show him, he was busy watching his father, gaining real-time experience as the future laird of Lallybroch. I was captivated by him, the way he drew people in. His eyes seemed to meet every single person’s in the room when he addressed the group at large, and he always seemed much wiser than his age suggested.

Privately between us, the things that could come out of Jamie Fraser’s mouth were like lines from old, romantic poems. Sonnets written in 19th-century fields of heather. The best part was that he always spoke true. He meant those fantastic things he said, and it made me love him all the more.

The first night of the festivities, we’d stolen away to a hayloft, drinking pilfered Drambuie straight from the bottle.

“Did you know this is the secret drink recipe of the Bonnie Prince Charlie?” I’d asked slowly, my speech a bit languid in my not-quite-drunkenness.

“Oh? I only ken my uncle Dougal enjoys the drink verra much, it’s why there’s so much of it for the weekend,” Jamie’d informed me before taking another swallow from the bottle.

“Well, when he escaped to the Isle of Skye, he was offered protection by – oh, which clan was it?” Pausing, I’d looked out at the sky, squinting before remembering. “Clan MacKinnon! Clan MacKinnon sheltered Prince Charles, and as thanks he gave them this very recipe.”

I had been given a kiss for my useless historical knowledge – and a bit more.

Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I sealed the envelope, fished a stamp out of my handbag, and neatly scrawled Jamie’s address, plus my own. It took a half-hour to settle on a suitable dress for supper, and I made my way downstairs, intending to keep to myself. Taking a seat at the far end of the dining room table, I listened as the rules of the dormitory were laid out (no non-familial men in our rooms unchaperoned, period. No alcohol except for one glass of wine with supper) and studied the other women. All of us seemed to be about the same age, and the one next to me leaned over to speak.

“What do ye think, could we sneak a flask in our brasseries and get away wi’ it?”

My eyes widened first at the accent, and then at the suggestion.

“You’re Scottish?” I asked somewhat dumbly.

“Aye. What gave it away, the accent or the flamin’ red hair?”

I couldn’t help but laugh, though I stifled it quickly to avoid the attention of Mistress Hildegarde.

“My name’s Gillian,” my new acquaintance introduced herself. “We’re roommates, you and I. I was down the hall when ye were comin’ out of the room earlier.”

She had hair not quite as red as Jamie’s, a fair complexion, and definite mischief in her eyes.

“Maybe down my knickers,” she mused, and I hid a laugh behind my napkin. While eating (an unfamiliar to me meat dish and potatoes), I decided if I was to live here for four years, perhaps befriending at least one person would be nice.

I was proven correct over the next few days; Gillian was smart and took good notes, but had a penchant for knowing when to throw down our study materials and go out for a drink. On a Friday evening after the third week of classes, we were planning to go to the cinema until the mail call happened.

“Ms. Beauchamp, one letter, one parcel.”

When Mistress Hildegarde said my name and I saw the handwriting on the envelope, I apologetically canceled my plans with Gillian and ate my supper in record time before racing upstairs. The package was a square box, and I put it aside in favor of reading Jamie’s letter first.

September 17, 1938

My own,

You are correct; I was shaking my head at what you said of yourself. And was I right? Was it nerves and are you settled? I know you can do anything, and I am eager to read all about your classwork. Your roommate as well, is she a nice lass?

Ian and I are faring well and do share a small apartment. He’s writing to Jenny now as I write to you. A few things are as I thought; the Latin exams will not be very easy to pass with top marks. I’m not sure speaking Latin will come up much in daily farm life, but I suppose for Mass it will be nice to know exactly what is being said. At least it may be something that could impress Father Bain.

Hopefully, the parcel I’ve sent along makes it as well. Inside is a wee bit more than chocolate, all things I thought you might enjoy. I had the idea, as well, to take a flight to London before Christmas, then together we could go to Scotland for the holidays, perhaps even spend a night in Edinburgh before going on to Lallybroch. We can work out the details a bit closer to the time, it is only that I’m eager to see you now. Being apart from you feels as though something is missing – even at Lallybroch I felt it, on the days we weren’t able to see one another save for breakfast and supper, only not as keenly. I miss you, Sassenach, down to the very marrow of me. I’m glad you have photographs; I have one of you in my back pocket always. Sometimes, I need to see you.

Do not weep, lass. Soon, it will only be the two of us.

The next few months will go by in record time, though perhaps I will be able to find a way to see you sooner. I love you, Claire, and you’ll do well to remember it. Write to me soon, a nighean.

Yours always,

Jamie

His name was a flourishing signature, and down in the very corner of the page, he’d drawn a small heart. Touching it with the tips of my fingers, I smiled softly and read the letter again. It was comforting to read something so normal, that everything was going perfectly well so far. Folding the letter and tucking it back into the envelope, I tore the parchment paper off of the box next, removing the lid. Inside was something wrapped in pale pink tissue, and when I unwrapped it, found four white handkerchiefs with lace, scented to smell faintly of roses. They were beautiful, and only after closer inspection did I realize my initials were embroidered in the corner, though not CB.

CF.

After taking a moment to whisper my name with his aloud, I tucked one into my purse, another into my coat pocket, and slipped the other two into my dresser. Digging through the rest of the contents had me finding all sorts of different chocolates, beautifully hand-painted postcards of Parisian landscapes, and a book: The Postman Always Rings Twice. There was another note, written on the inside of the cover.

Sassenach,

I wasn’t sure if you’d read it, but you mentioned wanting a good mystery novel to puzzle out. This one is controversial, if you’ll remember. I read it, and I can see why Boston went up in arms. Don’t go getting bawdy ideas.

–JAMMF

I laughed aloud at his last sentence and laid the book to rest on the nightstand. Looking at my bounty, I quelled the urge to write back for a mere twenty minutes before sitting down at my desk once more. I went on about my schoolwork, about the things I was learning and told him about Gillian, then reassured him all was well and I had indeed settled. I promised to write more once I’d finished the novel, then changed into my nightgown early, tucking into the book. Hours later and over half-way through, Gillian returned home, letting herself in and flopping down on my bed across my legs.

“Have fun?” I asked, putting down the book for now and stretching.

“When isn’t watching Fred Astaire a delight? Though, it wasna the best of his films, ” she informed in response, filling me in on the plot of Carefree. I half-listened, my thoughts on the book, which she called me out for.

“Where’s yer mind, Claire? Surely a book cannae be that good that ye–” Her gaze drifted toward the box, eyes wide by the time she looked back to me again. “Is that from yer fella, then? Let’s see, what did he send?”

As I proudly showed off my bounty, she touched the embroidery on one of the handkerchiefs. “Yer wee fox cub truly wants ye, I’m jealous. Does he have a brother, by any chance?”

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. “Only a sister.”

“Is she available then?”

We laughed at the joke together before scrubbing our faces and turning in for the night, a picture of Jamie tucked under my pillow.

The weeks rolled by, my latest letter arriving on October twelfth. It was short, mostly about how hard he’d been studying and all of the places to eat he was eager to take me to. There was no parcel this time, but he promised something would arrive in time for my birthday.

On the twentieth, I could hardly sit still in my classes, eager to get home and see what had arrived for me. As soon as my day was over I raced to the dormitory, calling out even as I opened the front door.

“Mistress Hildegarde, have you got any parcels for me?”

Her voice rang out from the parlor. “Yes, I would say so, Ms. Beauchamp. Come, it is here, with me.”

Removing my hat and placing it on the hook near the front door, I was pulling off my gloves as I entered the room and paused in shock. “Wot?”

“Mind the rules, my dear,” Mistress Hildegarde reminded on her way out of the room, and I merely nodded, a slow smile spreading so wide it made my cheeks hurt.

“Happy birthday, Sassenach.”

NEXT CHAPTER

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

The Part-Time Puppeteer - Chapter 04

<= Chapter 3

Summary : Lukas has a totally normal day at work (spoiler alert: he doesn't). Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828971/chapters/57890368

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

New chapter ! I hope you'll like it ! Don't hesitate to leave a comment if you did, it helps me a lot, I can assure you !

Sorry about the drawing not being finished, my tablet is dying and I couldn't do more. I probably won't be able to draw anything for this fanfic until I either solve the problem or buy another tablet...

Anyway, happy reading !

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Chapter 4 - “I’m… I’m sorry?”    

Kaleb did say that Lukas was going to have a lot of work because of the auditions… But the young man really thought it wouldn’t be that bad. For several hours, the student had to do many tasks, a lot of which involving physical efforts. He wasn’t very sporty usually, so it was quite demanding for his body. All his muscles seemed to beg him to stop after a while. After all, spending a few hours moving heavy props around and building stuff was not easy for a young nonathletic man like him. When his mentor, Tom, told him he could take a break, Lukas felt like he was hearing angels singing in the background. The student stretched, feeling his joints crack at the action. Oh, he so needed that.

Lukas approached the coffee machine in the room and prepared himself a cup. He had to drink at least one cup if he wanted to survive for the rest of his shift. He looked at his watch and was relieved to see he only had an hour or so before the end of his workday.

“Thank God,” he thought to himself with a sigh. The day had been quite tiring, both mentally and physically, and the idea of just collapsing onto his bed was extremely appealing to him. Though he knew he had some assignments to finish and that he wouldn’t be able to go to sleep before midnight. Welp, this had to be expected, with his studies and the fact that most of his free time would be taken by this gruelling job.

At least, Mike had done everything to make him feel at ease. His new friend also helped him to get acquainted with the other members of the team and Lukas was really thankful for that. The other man also got to explain why his evil twin was there and it only made the student’s day even more tiring than it already was. Apparently, when the guy had learnt about his brother’s participation in the project, he had “offered” to play a role and was given the antagonist part. However, “offered” wasn’t quite the right word and Lukas guessed that MJ forced himself in the project, from Mike’s face while the latter was explaining it. In a way, his presence was a good thing for the show, since MJ was very famous, even among children. His participation in the project would only raise the ratings of the show and this was something they deeply needed for the show to keep airing. However… MJ’s attitude on set was definitely not needed.

The guy was absolutely detestable, an opinion apparently shared by most people in the team. He was like a diva, but ten times worse. Not only did he criticize most of the stagehands for things he had no responsibility in, but he was also unquestionably disrespectful and odious to everyone, even Grooves himself! The nerves this guy had! He seemed to think he was superior to every person in this room! The only one to whom he was less displeasing was his brother, though Lukas didn’t envy him. If MJ wasn’t mean to him, he was at best condescending and at worst passive-aggressive.

Lukas also had to deal with him at some point, with MJ always pointing at his mistakes and wondering aloud why they hired a student out of all people in need of a job. No need to say that the only thing preventing Lukas to punch him in the face was the money he really, really needed at the end of the month. He hadn’t noticed how patient and calm he could be until now, if he had to be completely honest.

Did this execrable actor have some quality to compensate how rude he was? Not really. However, he did know how to act, almost perfectly. The young man had to admit that, at least. If only the other’s personality wasn’t so terrible… Lukas had been admirative of MJ in the past, when he didn’t actually know him, but now, his admiration had been thrown away. Very, very far away. The question was why no one had actually talked about it on the Internet or in the news. He would have to ask Mike about that, the next time he was alone with him.

His inner monologue was cut short when he heard a knock on the studio door. Well, that was unusual, since the team members came in and out without knocking. It then opened, revealing a man in his forties, soon followed by a little girl, hand in hand. The man was wearing a formal suit, as if he had just left an important meeting. His haircut was well-groomed and while the suit made him look like a strict person, his face seemed rather welcoming.

The little girl was quite young. She probably was an eight or ten years old kid, though Lukas didn’t know much about children, to begin with. She was wearing a black shirt with a glittery pattern the student didn’t recognize from where he was and she had white sleeves underneath. She was wearing light blue jeans overalls as well as a red jacket tied up to her waist by the sleeves. Nervousness could be seen on her face as she and her (probable) father entered the room.

They were probably here for the audition. The studio was looking for children for the main protagonists. Other families had come during his shift to have an audition, though Lukas had been too busy in the backstage to actually watch them. This time, however, he hoped he would be able to during his break. Witnessing an audition in a famous studio! If he had been told that a month ago, he wouldn’t have believed it.

The family was greeted by DJ Grooves and the little girl was handed a script for the scene. Lukas couldn’t hear anything from where he was standing, but he had no problem imagining that the child was been explained the scene she was going to play. Well, she probably rehearsed it plenty of times before, though the anxiety could still make her look for her words. It was just a precaution.

The director then called MJ over. Since the latter was the only actor playing one of the main characters, for now, he had to help with the auditions. The student thought the other would see it as a chore but, on the contrary, he was way too happy to show off his acting skills.

Yep, that was it. Lukas couldn’t stand that guy.

Lukas got closer to the shooting set, hoping he could watch a bit of the audition before going back to work. He held his cup of coffee to his lips, pretending to drink it when he had actually finished it a bit earlier. At least, he would look somewhat busy.

The little girl got up on the shooting set, doing her best to remain calm and taking deep breathes. Her father was watching her carefully with a mix of worry and pride on his face. MJ, on the other hand, seemed just fine and absolutely not anxious. Well, he was used to that kind of thing, so that made sense. And then, MJ’s eyes met his and the other smiled at him hypocritically, just to mock him. Lukas replied with a glare, which only made MJ snicker.

The student hated him. So much.

The actor took a puppet which had been given to him by one of the other stagehands. He readied himself and held it as if it was floating around the child. It was a puppet representing a character with blue skin and a red long coat. His head had the form of a croissant, and its eyes were grey and red, one of them having red diamonds in it. Its fingers were sharp like claws and some fangs could be seen from the puppet’s mouth.

Woah. Creepy.

Just as they were about to start the audition, a loud noise interrupted them, just like Lukas’s train of thoughts.

The door of the room had been opened abruptly, revealing the Conductor, out of breath. His face was covered in black, as if something had exploded next to him. The student did his best not to laugh at his frustrated and angry expression and looked away, not wanting to incur the Conductor’s wrath.

-“You’re late, darling”, remarked Grooves, without his usual glamorous tone. The reproach in his tone of voice was crystal clear, though. The other director lifted his hand to make him stop talking.

-“Oh don’t pecking start, Grooves!” retorted the Conductor, with his strong Scottish accent, emphasizing his partner’s name in a hateful way. Welp, they really couldn’t stand each other, could they? The Conductor approached DJ Grooves as the latter started talking again:

-“Well, I guess someone had another accident today,” said the DJ with a mocking tone: “What was it this time? The train engine blowing up in your current movie?”

The older man took a seat next to Grooves, not even greeting the little girl and her father while doing so. Boy, this audition sure was lively… Lukas couldn’t help but hope the child wouldn’t get too distracted by it. He couldn’t imagine how he would feel in her shoes.

-“Peck off, I’m not in the mood,” warned the Conductor darkly, before taking a speaker cone next to him. DJ‌ Grooves simply rolled his eyes and sighed, as the other director shouted a loud “action!”, still not greeting the family. Well, seemed like Lukas found another person to add in the “not having any fucking manners” list. It sure was getting long after only two days of work…

The child jumped at the loud order but quickly pulled herself together. She took another deep breath and started talking, saying her lines with a confidence Lukas would never have. She was really talented and, even if he hadn’t seen the other candidates earlier that day, he couldn’t help but think she had something. Something which made her different. The way she moved across the stage, the way she said her lines and reacted to MJ’s ones, the fake expressions on her face as she acted… She was talented. Well, Lukas didn’t know much about acting anyway, but he did know that he was really impressed at the performance. It was also easy to see that the little girl was having a lot of fun playing her role. The student didn’t think this day would be enjoyable in any way, but there was something about watching this audition that made his shift infinitely better than what it was before.

That’s why he was astounded when he heard Grooves interrupting the audition with a “cut!”. Why? The young man didn’t understand! She was skilled!

The child’s expression went from the excitement of acting to a much darker one which Lukas knew very well: a mix of anxiety, sadness and disappointment. He felt a huge heartache seeing her like this and couldn’t help but relate. “How disappointed she must be!” was all the student was able to think as he was looking at her.

However, his distress disappeared completely with Grooves’s next sentence:

-“I don’t know… There’s something bothering me with the puppet.”

The words hit Lukas like a train as a huge feeling of surprise settled over him. The… Puppet?

MJ seemed to have the same reaction as him. His eyes widened, as if he had never expected criticism in the first place, which was probably the case in retrospect. The actor furrowed his brow, confused and slightly offended at the same time.

-“What do you mean?” questioned MJ almost innocently, yet it was very easy to see that he absolutely disliked where this conversation was going.

-“Well…” Grooves thought for a few seconds and then pointed to the puppet: “I’m wondering that maybe it might be a little too scary for the children watching the show.”

MJ was about to retort something but the Conductor was quicker and added:

-“For once, I’m gonna agree with DJ Peckneck,” the name made his colleague pinch his nose in disapproval: “It’s terrifying.”

MJ remained speechless for a few moments as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Well, it was true: Lukas was not a puppet specialist or anything, but it was scary as hell. The fangs, the claws, the corpse-looking skin… How could it not be creepy?

The actor straightened himself, looking around him like he couldn’t understand what was being said to him. He seemed like he was searching for someone who could back him up. Mike, who had entered the room not long ago, certainly because of the sudden agitation, noticed his brother’s distress and carefully approached the directors:

-“I-I’m sorry, but…” the lead designer gulped and tried to support his twin: “You asked for a spooky puppet, so I tried to-”

He was soon cut short by the Conductor, who glared at him:

-“Well, yeah, but look at it!” he demanded, pointing to the puppet.

Grooves agreed:

-“It is quite unnerving, darling. Can you, perhaps… Make it cuter or something?”

-“Cuter?!” MJ’s offended voice echoed in the room. His eyes glanced between the directors as he spoke again, full of sarcasm: “I’m sorry, I thought you wanted a villain, not a tea-party monster!”

-“MJ…” Mike warned his twin, surely knowing very well where all of this was going, by the expression on his face. But MJ was not having it.

-“What, Mike? You’re going to let them criticize our work without saying anything? What are you, a doormat?”

Lukas winced at the words and felt his anger coming back full force. How could someone say that to their own brother?

All the stagehands had stopped working and were witnessing the young actor’s outburst.

Mike only remained silent, as the Conductor slammed his fist on the armrest of the chair he was sitting on:

-“That’s enough!” yelled the older director, without even needing the cone speaker to be heard all across the other side of the room.

A few moments passed with deafening silence, as MJ gave the Conductor a death stare, clenching his fists and his jaw, refusing to lose. But the other man was much more persistent than him and soon, MJ just threw the doll onto the floor with a force intensified by his anger.

-“You know what? Fine,” concluded the diva, with a faked gentle tone: “See if you can finish the audition without me, I’m done for today. Do not bother me.”

Lukas saw Mike cringe at the sound of the puppet hitting the floor. As a lead designer, the student couldn’t imagine how painful it must be to see the props you worked so hard on getting thrown away like they were just garbage.

That was it. Lukas was done taking that guy’s bullshit. He had to say something! But what if he lost his job after that? He couldn’t allow himself to lose an opportunity like this! Sure, the job was hard, but this was the only way he had to fund his studies! If he ever lost it…

His nervous and conflicted thoughts were interrupted as he saw MJ leaving the scene, stomping with fury. But as he was walking with heavy steps towards the door, one of his feet got caught up in the multitude of cables laying on the ground and he fell onwards. The actor’s face met the ground with a loud bump, resonating in all the quiet room. A quiet room which was soon filled with powerful waves of laughter. All the stagehands, even the directors, were laughing at the entitled actor’s fall. Mike, on the other hand, was the only one not laughing at all. On the contrary, the lead designer was watching his brother like one would watch a bomb about to explode. MJ lifted his face off the ground, utterly humiliated and Lukas found it absolutely priceless. The guy got just what he deserved!

And so, Lukas opened his mouth and laughed.

The actor’s face! The way he just fell down to the floor! This day had started so badly but now it was a hundred times better! Oh, he would never forget that!

He laughed for a few more seconds until he felt like something was wrong. And then it hit him like a train: he was the only one laughing now.

The student stopped immediately, closing his mouth as the realization hit him. That’s when he noticed that everyone was staring at him, their eyes widened and their face full of surprise. Oh gosh. It had happened again, hadn’t it? Lukas had laughed too loud and everyone had heard him. Instantly, he put a hand on his mouth.

The young man had always been very insecure about his laughter. For many people, laughing was something normal and easy, but for Lukas… He was absolutely ashamed of the sound and volume of his laughter. A lot of people had made fun of it at school just like many others had pointed it out to him years later.

Thus, with years of bullying and self-confidence destroyed little by little, Lukas had come to hate the sound of his laughter. And now, everyone was just staring at him in bewilderment. As for MJ, the man was glaring at him like he had never before, clenching his teeth and squinting his eyes. Oh, well, now Lukas’s hatred for the guy was mutual. Great.

The student wanted nothing more than to dig his own grave and bury himself in it. This was only his second day of work and somehow, he had managed to screw everything up again. God, what could he do to fix that? Could he even save himself from this situation? And oh, he couldn’t even imagine how MJ was going to go back at him with that… The student was not sure he would stand new hours of bullying about his laughter when he had just managed to keep his anxiety under control only a few years ago. And said anxiety was still hard to control today!

Lukas let out a nervous chuckle, glancing at the other team members, dread settling over him. What could he do, what could he do?

-“Hum… Sorry. I- uh, I’m going to go to the toilets now… Sorry again…” he mumbled, pointing to the door tensely and trying to speak as the words had trouble leaving his mouth. He had to get away, otherwise he would become a total nervous disaster. He had to get away, get away from all these people staring at him…

-“Hey, wait a second,” the Conductor’s voice arose in his back as he tried to leave, stopping him on his track. Oh God, could he get fired for laughing too loud? No, he knew it wasn’t possible, he knew how laws worked! This was just his anxiety talking! He was being irrational! His feelings were a mess and so were his thoughts.

Lukas just wanted to disappear as soon as possible. Yet, he turned back, facing the crowd of people again. The directors were staring at him with a look the student couldn’t recognize. His anxiousness intensified even more. Oh great, even more things to get scared about. He only waited, feeling like he was waiting to be given a death sentence. Finally, after what felt hours to Lukas, the Conductor started talking again:

-“Did you…” he paused, glancing between Grooves and the young man with a mix of confusion and curiosity on his face. It was strange not to see a negative expression on the director’s face. Seeing how the Conductor was looking for his words, Grooves took the reins of the discussion, though very much confused and curious as well:

-“Is that your real laugh, darling?” was the question the DJ asked him.

Lukas was mortified. He was only able to nod slightly, absolutely unmoving. In the corner of his vision, he saw MJ getting up, throwing the cables away from him furiously. When the latter looked up and met the student's eyes, there was definitely hatred in there. Yet, there was something else. And when the other started to smile, Lukas understood that he had been right: the actor would never let him forget what happened today.

He was so screwed.

The directors looked at each other, then glanced between Lukas and MJ. Wait, why were they staring at him too? The student felt like he had missed something, something huge. And when Grooves opened his mouth again, the young man was dumbfounded:

-“How about you got your chance at an audition?”

The word “astonishment” was clearly not strong enough to express Lukas’s state of mind at that particular moment. What?

-“I’m… I’m sorry?” he wondered aloud, certain he must have misunderstood something. There couldn’t be any possible way that he had been asked to try auditioning!

Grooves was about to answer but another voice interrupted him: MJ.

-“Are you kidding me?!” yelled the actor, both furious and confused: “He’s a student! He knows nothing about acting! What role would you give him anyway? A fucking tree in the background? Hah!”

MJ scoffed at his own joke, glaring both at the directors and the student in a superior way, as if he knew that he had always been right all along. But then, the Conductor answered his question, absolutely blowing MJ’s mind, just as Lukas’s.

-“We’re going to give him yours, you peck neck diva.”

Lukas felt the world turning around him. This was all a dream, right? This couldn’t be possibly happening! He was going to wake up and laugh at his stupid dream, and start his day as if nothing had happened! Because that could only be the case, right? This couldn’t be real!

But MJ’s scream, on the contrary, was very much real:

-“What?!” the actor’s voice resonated in all the room: “You’re going to do what?!” His intonation was loud and deadly serious.

Grooves was the one to reply, darkly, glaring at the young actor through his star-shaped glasses:

-“You heard us, darling,” was all the DJ had to say to shut MJ up.

A few moments passed where the latter stayed motionless, shaking from the rage he was trying to contain. In the other side of the room, Mike was watching his twin with extreme worry. And then, the bomb exploded. MJ screamed and stomped to the door, knocking all the shooting equipment on his way out, still screaming all while he did so. All the other stagehands could only stare in bewilderment, not knowing what to do. But before anyone could try to stop him, the actor stormed out and slammed the door behind him. Mike soon followed him, though it was easy to tell from his face that it wasn’t the first time something like that happened.

Lukas, on the other hand, remained unable to move, completely swamped by the events. It is only when he felt a tap on his shoulders that he came back to reality. He turned back, his face extremely pale. His eyes widened when they met Grooves’s ones. The latter was handing him a script, which the student stared, astonished.

-“We still have an audition to finish, darling. Why don’t you come help us to take it up again?”

This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t possibly be real!

But then, the student’s hand mindlessly grabbed the script and, when his fingers felt the soft surface of the paper against his skin… He knew that he was very well awake.

How did he get himself into such a situation…?

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Welp, what a day for Lukas, right? And that's when MJ's true hatred for Lukas starts :)

See you on the next chapter ! Stay safe everyone !

Chapter 5 =>

[multific]

Special Girl

Tom Holland x Mute!Reader

Summary: After an awful accident, you learnt how to deal with the consequences , and soon, you found happiness, or did happiness found you?

Warning: mention of an accident, death but I promise this is cute overall

Words in italics are what the reader is writing or signs.

A/N: Just a little something for you guys! I hope your week is going well! Enjoy~

You were able to speak at one point in your life. Your family often say that they miss your laugh and voice.

You still remember that day.

The day that changed your life forever.

The day that took your voice.

You were in the car with your uncle and aunt since you were at their place for the weekend, you were only fourteen.

You remember as the car passed a shop than it came to a stop due to a red light. Then you heard voices, nothing more. A big force pushed you forwards and then you remember spinning.

When you woke up, you were in a hospital bed. Your mother and father was by your side, crying, and happy that you were finally up, and alive.

They explained the situation as best as they could, a car ran into the car you, your uncle and aunt was in, making the car move into the junction as a car forcefully hit you. Both your aunt and uncle died during the impact. You had several head injuries but the worst was yet to come.

Your mother couldn’t tell you due to crying, neither could your father, a lovely nurse came in who explained that a part from the other car nearly stabbed you through your throat, and it made you lose your vocal cords. At that time you didn’t know, but it was on that night you were destined to lose either your life, or your voice.

And now, you were happy that it was the latter.

Sure, you went through a lot. Anger, disappointment more anger and depression. Especially during your teenager years. But now, as you got older, you learnt to live with it and to love yourself like that.

Obviously you learnt sign language as soon as you recovered from the hospital. But since not many people knew sign language, you were left to either text or the good old paper and pen.

But this never stopped you. You were determined to finish collage and get a decent job.

You learnt literature. Since you weren’t able to speak anymore, you learnt a new form of communication and you always admired the poems and writers for being able to do that so naturally.  

You started your career as a writer for a magazine. Since it wasn’t a huge, well-known one, you were able to write (for the most part) what you wished for. But that didn’t really work out, so you quit.

You decided to teach.

There was an organization that worked with mute, blind and deaf people. So, you became a sign language teacher for young children and adults that suffered the same faith as you. And it also comforted them that you went through the same struggle as them.

It wasn’t the best paying job, but at least you had a job that you had a passion for.

Sadly, you never had a real boyfriend, it seemed to you like they didn’t had the time and patience for you. They soon got tired of you texts and messages, even if they knew from the beginning what they were in for.

Little did you know that was about to change.

You were informed by your friends at work that a movie star was to come and spend some time with the children. Kind of like a charity event, it would also make people aware of the situation these kids are in and attract possible donators.

As soon as you were told that the star of the new Spider Man movie would come, you knew who he was.

Tom Holland.

Aka the cute and sexy young actor.

You loved the Marvel movies and to be able and meet or at least see one of the cast members, it was like a dream come true to you.

The next day came quicker that you expected it to.

And soon enough there he was, cameras surrounded him for most of the time. But about an hour or so into his visit, they turned off the cameras, claiming that they have enough footage, and almost everyone left, except for Tom and his assistants. They were still in the room with the children. Tom was only a few feet apart from you talking to Stacey, a lovely little girl who you have been teaching.

You heard him asking her about her favourite colour but Stacey was a rather shy little girl, and you decided to help her open up a little bit. You went over to the table the two was sitting at, Tom looked up at you and you gave him a smile and a wave. Then you looked at Stacey and got her attention.

“Did you know that he has a big secret?” this made the five year old look at Tom then back at you.

“What is it?” she signed and you could clearly see how interested she got.

“Ask him.” you signed and waited. Tom looked a bit confused between the two of you then he saw the little girl started writing.

You secret?

Said the paper.

“You’d like to know my secret?” this confused Tom, what secret was this little girl talking about. In his confusion he turned to the first person that was close to him, which happened to be you sitting in front of him on the other side of the table. You tried to help him, so you quickly drew a small sketch of a spider and then pointed at him. Just like a bulb had been switched on, Tom understood.

“Well, little one, you have to promise me something first.” the little girl eagerly nodded. “You can not tell this to anyone, got it?” she nodded again. Then Tom got the paper from her and wrote on it.

I am Spider Man.

As soon as Stacey read it, she grabbed the sheet, gave Tom a big hug and ran over to you.

“He told me.” she signed. “Look.”

And surely enough she showed you his writing. But before you could react she was running off again to who knows where. As you looked after her you heard Tom’s voice.

“So much about the promise.” you smiled but didn’t look at him. You wanted to stand up and look after the other kids and help you co-workers, but you needed something. “Thank you.” you heard his voice. “For helping me.” you nodded and gave him another smile. He didn’t know this but you signed him a ‘You are welcome.’

You put the paper that you drew the small spider and on and you motioned him so sign it for you, which he did. After that you wanted to stand and leave but he started talking again, and you’d be a fool to leave such a cute, yet handsome man alone.

“So, you are… you can’t talk, right?”

You nodded your head, yes.

“How do you communicate then?” You assumed that he meant those people who didn’t understand sign language so you gestured to him to your phone and to a piece of paper.

“How rude of me! My name is Tom, you might already know that since you work here and you were probably told, but I wanted to introduce myself properly. What’s your name.” you found it cute, he looked taken aback, almost scared, other people did this when they spoke to you for the first time too. But with him, it was rather cute.

You got another paper and wrote your name.

Y/N Y/L/N.

“Y/N.” as he said it aloud, your heart skipped a beat. With his accent it sounded so right. “Nice to meet you.” you nodded once and smiled. He wrote something under your name and then said. “I’m sorry but I will have to go now. It was nice meeting you, though.”

You stood up with him as he gave you the paper, and with a small wave and possibly the cutest smile ever, he walked away.

When you couldn’t see him anymore you looked at the paper he gave you and saw a phone number on it.

***

That is how your love started. 

It started by texts then the dates came. And you found out that Tom is not like any other man. 

He was patient with you, and he would never hurt you. Even when you told him about your past attempt of dating, he assured you, that he would never. And he really wasn’t like them. He was something else, in a good way, he always called you, “My Special Girl” at first you hated it, it made you feel like you weren’t right, but you soon understood his words and realized that he meant it in a good way. 

And from then on, you truly felt special. 

It was now that you met three years ago and it was your anniversary, Tom liked to celebrate the day he met you.

Your life completely made a turn for the better with him. You still had the same job, since you loved helping others, but now you had a rock, someone to go home to.

And the best part?

Tom came with a nice extra, the cutest dog on Earth, Tessa.

Sometimes he would joke about how you love your dog more than him. And it wasn’t a complete lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. You love for Tessa was different than your love for your boyfriend.

During the time you spent with Tom, he learnt and picked up a few signs, just the basics, but he was getting better and better. He always wished that he would have more time to completely understand your every word, but with his schedule, basics had to do.

It was the middle on the night and the two of you just finished a long session of….loving.

“Where are you going?” he asked you still out of breath.

“To shower.” you signed to him.

“Let me join.” and he did. Although you predicted that he might want to continue in the shower, he never went further than a few heated kisses.

Soon, you found yourself cuddled up, head on his chest as he stroked your back. You always loved to sleep while listening to his heart beat.

“Where should we go tomorrow?” he asked. “I have the weekend off, so I’m completely yours.

You thought about it for a few minutes than signed.

“Zoo.”

“What is this?” he repeated your movements.

Instead of trying to explain by acting it out to him, you used your finger as if it was a pen and “wrote” on his skin.

“Oh, the zoo? Sure.”

“Let’s call your family too.”

“Family? You want my family to come?”

You only nodded.

“Sure, I’ll call Mum in the morning.” he said and he pulled you back onto his chest.

“Let’s sleep now. I love you, Darling.”

“I love you too” you signed to him.

You went to sleep with the thought of how amazing the next day will be. With the love of your life and his family who adored you.

A/N: I thought there there wasn’t enough fanfiction with mute readers, so, I came up with this idea. Hope you all like it!

Taglist: imreadinggoaway fleursirvart  v-2bucky ehsebastian  crunch-time-sports pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmiler smexylemony greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd thisismysecrethappyplace sincerelyfan theoneanna aestheticsandmarvel rororo06 castellandiangelo avengers-r-us

~Masterlist~

My taglist is open!

Feedback means EVERYTHING to me, so please take the time and tell me how you liked my story. Thank You~

[xwaywardhuntress]

You’re Not From This World (Part Six)

Summary: Imagine the boys get sent to an alternate reality again without you, which leaves you stuck with the Winchester look-alikes, Jensen Ackles, and Jared Padalecki.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader, Jensen Ackles x alternate world!reader

Warnings: Both worlds POV

Words: 2500+

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. This is fanfiction only. Please do not redistribute my writings on other sites, horrible or not. Thanks!

Part One, Two, Three, Four, Five

“So your first name on your birth certificate is…?” Dean questioned, more for verbal confirmation.

“It’s Y/N…”

“Wow, I was not – I was not expecting that.” Dean chuckled.

“To be honest, the character’s name is what caught my attention in the first place. I haven’t really told anyone, except for Jensen, but I think he forgot…” Cat took another bite. “You’ve probably noticed that I act awkwardly around you. And yes, it is because you look exactly like him.”

Dean played it off poorly, “No, not at all. We’re technically strangers to each other anyways.”

She smiled, aware that the older Winchester was trying to be nice about it. “I feel like we could be more acquaintances than strangers.” She commented with a smirk. “I’d say I know enough about you from the show that we wouldn’t be entire strangers.”

“Fair point.” Dean agreed. “Not sure if I know enough about you to say the same. The only thing I know now is that you have the same first name as Y/N.”

“Touche.” Cat chuckled. “What do you want to know?”

“Alright, why do you feel awkward around this Jensen guy?” He asked, a bit hesitant at first.

Cat sighed, “I had a feeling that question would be asked eventually. To keep the story short. I fell for him and I don’t know how to act around him anymore. When I first started on Supernatural, you could say we were two peas in a pod, but then I realized how I felt and it just..”

“…it made you overthink about everything?” Dean assumed the end of her sentence.

She looked up, a bit surprised. “Yeah, that’s right.”

Dean smiled at her, “As quoted by someone pretty smart…” He looked over at his sleeping brother. “Just tell him how you feel. Now I can’t confirm he’ll return the same feelings. He’d be stupid not too, in my opinion. But if he does, at least you didn’t waste years of pining over him or sleeping with other people when you could’ve been with him.”

“Someone got wiser.” Cat commented, finishing her Nutella sandwich.

“I also had a nagging brother but it was her that really made me realize how stupid I was all those years. Now, I can’t imagine my life without her.” He smiled at the thought of Y/N.  

“You two are goals.” Cat yawned. “I think it’s time to go to bed for me. Tomorrow…err in a few hours now, we’ll figure out a way to get you and Sam back to your world. Everything will be okay.” She smiled at him as she got up and then headed to the other queen bed that was empty.

Dean nodded his head and then went back to his sofa bed. Cat definitely shared the positivity that his Y/N had. He could only wonder how similar Jensen was to him as he drifted off to sleep.

- - -

Waking up to noises coming from the bunker entrance area, you stretched out in your shared bed with Dean. You weren’t used to how roomy the bed was with only a single person. Reaching out to check your phone for the time, it read almost 7am. Normally, you would’ve slept in longer but right now, you were technically working a case. You got up and changed into a t-shirt with flannel and some ripped jeans, as you shoved your phone into your butt pocket. Heading out into the war table room, you spotted Jared already up and researching.

Before you could ask where Jensen was, he appeared beside you, holding out a cup of coffee. “Coffee with sugar?” He asked.

You rose an eyebrow, taking the mug. “How did you know that?”

“Lucky guess.” Jensen smiled as he returned back to his seat across from Jared in front of a pile of books.

You followed him to the table where the boys sat at.

“Cat takes her coffee the same way. I took my chances and based it off of that.” The older actor admitted.

“Oh. I was about to say you two have grown quite accustomed here in the bunker. It’s almost like your actually Dean and Sam. It’s kind of creepy.” You shared, taking a sip of your coffee.

“We’re just doing what we would be acting out, except we’re actually doing it.” Jared stated.

Jensen looked at his friend with a did-you-hear-yourself look.

The tall actor shrugged in his chair. “What? It makes sense to me and she understood. Right Y/N?” He asked rhetorically as he continued. “Oh! I talked to Cas earlier. He said Remph might take a while longer to recover. Apparently, he didn’t just send Dean and Sam to another world, he also sent back the witch’s victims back to the worlds they came from too. Apparently, that’s what drained Remph’s energy yesterday. Also, there might’ve been something else, but I think that was the gist of it.”

You sighed, “Great. So Cas – ”

“Yes, Y/N?” The angel appeared beside you.

You almost spilled your coffee from his sudden appearance. “Cas, what have Dean and I said about popping up out of nowhere?! And you couldn’t just walk through the bunker to come here instead?”

“Sorry, I heard my name spoken twice and thought it was urgent.” Cas responded. The angel wouldn’t admit it, but watching over Remph wasn’t the greatest.

“Well since you’re here. What’s the ETA for the angel’s recovery to be able to get Dean and Sam back and these two back to their home?”

Cas’s eyebrows creased together. “I’m not sure. Traveling through different universes takes a huge amount of energy without using spells or other means.”

“It’s never easy for us, is it?” You muttered, more to yourself.

“What about Rowena?” Jared asked casually.

Jensen had an idea of where his friend was going with his question as he spoke hesitantly, “I don’t know man. Usually, in the show, she only helps if she gets something in return.”

“I have also been unable to locate her lately. I believe she must be using some kind of spell from the grimoire to hide.” The angel chimed in.

The boys continued chatting, debating if they should reach out to Rowena and if they did, how would they contact her.

You knew from the moment Jared brought up Rowena that Dean would’ve said no right away. However, desperate times called for desperate measures. To make the choice easier for everyone, you actually had a way to contact Rowena. You set your cup of coffee on the table and pulled out your phone from your back pocket. “Guys…” You spoke aloud, but the boys were too busy in the discussion. This time you cleared your throat. “Boys! I have a way to contact Rowena.”

All the boys looked over at you as you held your phone up.

“I have a number I can try calling. She gave it to me a while back and told me not to tell Dean and Sam. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to keep it, just in case.” You confessed.

“If you think it’s the right move, I trust you Y/N.” Jensen shared. Jared agreed.

It surprised you a bit to have both boys have that much confidence in you. If it were the Winchesters, Sam was usually the one to back you up most of the time. Dean’s need to keep you safe played a huge role in decisions from time to time, which would lead to you two arguing. However, 70% of the time the team still ended up going with your idea.

Castiel looked skeptical. “Y/N…Dean wouldn’t  – “

“I know, Cas. But he’s not here right now.” You stated as you searched through your contacts and pressed the call button.

The phone rang a couple of times before a Scottish accent answered. “Hello, dearie. And what do I owe for this pleasantly nice unexpected call?”

You sighed. “I need your help.” You admitted. Just get straight to the point and get it over with. You thought to yourself.

“Oh my. The Y/N in need of my help? How could I say no?” Rowena teased.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Rowena.” You answered sternly.

“Alright dear, enough of the games. Is it just you or the poor boys too?” The redhead asked nonchalantly.

You looked over at Jensen and Jared. “Me…” Turning to face away from staring eyes, you walked over to Castiel. “…but it concerns Dean and Sam too.”

“What sort of trouble have you and the boys brewed up this time?”

Y/n went on to explain the situation of the Winchesters being switched with alternate versions of themselves, keeping out certain details such as the angel that was currently resting in one of the bunker rooms. When asked what happened to the witch that Rowena acted ignorantly but was curious about, you shared you killed her. Rowena never mentioned the angel, to which you were glad you didn’t mention him either.

“I may be able to help. I may recall a particular spell that could create portals to other realities. However, the ingredients are…” Rowena paused for a moment on the phone. “…interesting.”

“What ingredients do we need exactly?” Y/N asked.

“Oh, a fruit from the tree of life, the seal of Solomon, the blood of a most holy man, and an arch angel’s grace.” The witch listed.

“That’s great, I have no idea where to get any of those items without researching.” You shared, knowing that those items all sounded like they would be difficult to find, especially an arch angel’s grace.

There was silence on the phone for a moment before Rowena let out a breath of air. “Bullocks!” Rowena expressed aloud.

You stayed silent on the phone, waiting to see what the witch’s outburst was about.

“You’re lucky I like you more than the Winchesters, dear. I know of someone who was collecting those items. I don’t know why, but I suppose if you take care of her, then that is one less wee witch in the world to worry about.” The redhead shared.

“One witch, to take care of? That doesn’t sound too hard. How does this benefit you?” You asked cautiously.

“Just make sure to tell your loverboy that I helped you get him back. This should make up for my part in the witch’s actions.” Rowena finally admitted. She continued to give an address, which you wrote down next to Cas.

Before hanging up, Rowena shared she would head to the bunker while you went to gather the ingredients. She also warned you, “Be careful not to mention that you just killed her daughter. A mother’s wrath is something you want to avoid, dear.” And then she hung up.

Of course, it would be Remi’s mother that you had to get the ingredients from.

The boys were looking at you as they didn’t quite understand what happened in the conversation. Before they could ask, you spoke up first. “I’m going out for a while. There’s another witch that I need to go collect ingredients from. Rowena should be here in a couple of hours.”

“We can go with you.” Jared offered.

“No, you two are staying here with Cas.” You looked from the actors to the angel.

Immediately, Jensen and Jared were opposed to staying. They both wanted to help as they felt slightly responsible for bringing up Rowena in the first place.

“Whatever favor she asked of you, we should help. We brought her up.” Jensen tried arguing.

“This time she didn’t ask for anything. And I think it’s because she knows we know she helped Remi. I also think she might be a bit worried that Dean will want to go after her when he gets back. So, her doing this as a favor to us is basically for her own survival purposes. Look, witches aren’t the biggest fans of the Winchesters. Once they spot you two, you guys will be targets. I can’t watch out for myself and you two.” You explained.

Castiel was about to suggest that he should come instead, when you continued speaking, “Cas, you need to keep an eye on Remph. You may need to hide his presence once Rowena shows up as well.”

“I don’t like this.” Jensen stated, which reminded you a lot of Dean.

You smiled at him, “It’ll be a piece of cake. I’ll be back before you guys know it.” With that said, you left to go pack your things. Then you took your car and drove off by yourself.

The boys knew how capable you were to take care of yourself, but they were still worried. It seemed too easy of an errand to collect ingredients for a spell. Not to mention with Rowena involved, who knew what kind of witch she had sent you off too.

As if thinking the same thing, Castiel appeared before the boys dangling the keys to the Impala. “Just watch from a distance. I agree with Y/N that you two shouldn’t be front lined against another witch. However, I’m aware Dean will be upset that we let her go alone. Call me if anything happens.” The angel handed them a piece of paper with an address, “This was the address I saw Y/N write down earlier.”

The boys thanked Cas as they left to pack a few of the Winchester’s belongings in a duffel. They had some sort of idea of what to bring based on what they did when they were acting.

Reaching Baby, Jensen and Jared couldn’t help but admire her. Despite riding in the car before with Y/N driving, being able to drive it now was awesome.

Jensen drove out of habit in the show. The two did get a lost, which added unnecessary road trip time, but eventually, they reached their destination, or so they assumed. Pulling up near the address, they parked a fair distance under a tree.

“Is that the house?” Jared asked.

“I think so. Did you look it up on google maps street view?” Jensen replied.

“Uhh, I did not. Was I suppose too?”

“How else are we going to know if we’re at the right address?” Jensen questioned looking over at his friend.

“I mean the dot on the navigation aligns with the spot of that house?”

Jensen sighed, “We’re pretty bad at this in real life.”

Jared countered his friend’s statement. “Hey! In the show, we don’t act out google mapping the location using street view! How were we suppose to know?”

A laugh appeared beside Jared’s open window. Both of the boys looked in the direction of where the laugh came from.

It was you.

You had just finished your reconnaissance task of walking around the neighborhood during the day and scouting. As you were leaving to head back to your motel that was walking distance from the neighborhood, that’s when you spotted Baby. The very recognizable 1967 Chevy Impala.

Bending over by the open window, you greeted the boys. “If it isn’t Scooby and Shaggy…” You teased.

Both of the boys looked embarrassed that they were caught.

“Hey Y/N…what are you doing here? We were just going on a drive, getting some well needed fresh air and...” Jared started lying, very poorly.

“Cas sent you, didn’t he?” You interrupted, getting straight to the point.

“Yes and no.” Jensen was quick to answer. “Look, we were all worried about you going alone, so we thought we’d just check up on you and Cas may have let us.” He shrugged as if he didn’t just throw Castiel under the bus.

You sighed as you straightened your back and then made your way to the back seat. “I had a feeling this would happen. Alright, let’s head to my motel and talk about this there.”

Part Seven

YNFTW Tag:

@chloe-skywalker  @darkswanordie   @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @aomi-nabi @damn-sassalecki @right-til-the-end @wingedcatninja @the-real-witch @toews-a-peek @lokilove3112 @tftumblin @calaofnoldor @monkeymcpoopoo @cassiopeia-barrow @nickyrose3123 @icequeen206 @winchester-marvel-girl @liviaolivia @rathersuspiciousbumblebee @rainflowermoon @rainflowermoonlibrary

[ryqoshay]

Heavenly Life: Transfer

Primary Pairing: YohaRiko Words: ~1.8k Rating: K AU: Angelic Time Frame: ??? Story Arc: Stand Alone

Author’s Note: By the gods, it’s been too long...

“What the hell, Mari?” Yoshiko griped, storming into the captain’s office.

“Language.” Mari stated, not looking up from her work.

“Whatever.” The blue-haired girl growled.

“Good to see you back to your normal self, by the way.”

“Thanks…?” Yoshiko felt herself lose some of her initial momentum. “Wait, no, that’s not the point! You want to repay me by setting me up with her? You can’t be serious!”

“Would you prefer I say ‘<It’s joke!>’?” The blonde finally looked up as she used an ancient language with intentionally incorrect grammar that she’d often repeated.

“Ughn…” Yoshiko’s shoulders slumped. “… No…” She shook her head. “No, I really wouldn’t.” Had it really reached a point that Mari was aware of the effects of that overused phrase of hers and had found a new way to annoy with it?

“So, what’s the problem, do you not like her?”

“That’s not what I said!” Yoshiko protested, waving her arms frantically. “But we’ve already met, so you wouldn’t be setting me up.”

“Oh? Are you dating already?”

“D-dating? What? No!”

“Do you not want to date her?”

“I… I…” Yoshiko could feel her face flush. “Well, yeah, sure I suppose there’s a possibility I might kinda sorta want to maybe go out with her.” She fumbled through admitting. She knew it was foolish to flatly deny it because Mari could read her like a book. “She’s amazing. A bit naïve. But beautiful. And…” She sighed. “But I’d only want to if she would be alright with someone like me.”

“I believe she might be more interested than you realize.”

“Really?” Yoshiko hated how much hope seeped into her voice.

“Let’s just say she has some… unexpected tastes.” Despite her teasing tone, Mari’s smile seemed genuine. “I’ll let you in on a few, but don’t tell her that you know. She seems to be under the impression that they’re still a secret.”

The blue-haired girl tilted her head in curiosity.

“My point is that I’m going to help you get closer to her.” The blonde explained. “How far you decide to progress will be up to the two of you. But from what I know, you both have your shares of insecurities when it comes to socializing, particularly in the friendship and romance departments. So, I intend to give advice and help where I can.”

“You’re not just doing this as a way to tease me, are you?” Yoshiko couldn’t help some lingering suspicion despite her growing anticipation.

Mari’s grin grew. “Oh, you’ll never be completely free of my teasing, Yoshiko-chan.”

“Yohane.”

“Believe it or not, I consider you to be an important friend and she now serves under me.” Mari explained. “So I want you two to be happy, be it as friends, as girlfriends, or whatever.”

“…” Yoshiko found herself unsure as to what she should say. While she couldn’t really deny that she also considered Mari a friend, putting it into words was a more difficult task than slaying hundreds of demons.

“Also, I know you were awake when I told her that you needed more friends like her. And you heard all that other stuff as well.”

The blue-haired girl nodded her affirmation.

“I wasn’t kidding, you know.”

The two angels stared at one another for a few moments.

“T… Thank you.” Yoshiko finally managed to break the silence.

Mari smiled in response. “Oh, and since you’re already here, I don’t have to send someone else to find you and deliver the news.”

“News?”

“I’m being transferred to Reusbasium.”

“Reusbasium?”  Yoshiko searched her knowledge of angelic territory but drew a blank.

“A town out near the border.” Mari explained. “It’s small, quaint, lovely and quite peaceful.”

Peaceful? Yoshiko furrowed her brow. That certainly wouldn’t describe anywhere near the border with demon territory, so that left fey. “So why the heck are you, of all people, being transferred there?”

“Recent reports have been coming in suggesting the demons are attempting to sway the fey to their side. As you know, this absolutely cannot happen.”

“Of course.”

“As such, I am being sent to monitor the situation, and if necessary, propose a counteroffer to have them join us. Or remain neutral, that would be an acceptable outcome as well. And the one I would personally prefer; they don’t need to be dragged into our eternal war.”

“It probably wouldn’t be eternal for much longer after they chose a side.” Yoshiko mused aloud.

“Exactly. And at a terrible cost to them. I’d rather they continue to stay out of it, for their own sake.”

“But again, why you?”

“There is concern that should the demons fail in negotiations, they may quietly annex the sparsely populated borderlands and use it as a staging point for an invasion.”

“And you could decimate any reasonable reconnaissance force before they become too powerful?”

“Something like that.”

“Hrm…” Yoshiko thought for a moment. While the explanation provided made sense at face value, she was all but certain there were details being left out. Then again, that was par for the course when it came to the likes of the eccentric captain. Thus, instead of prying for said details, she asked, “So why tell me all of this?”

“Because I’m not going alone.”

“Of course not. But I don’t serve under your command…”

“But Rikocchi does.”

Yohsiko blinked.

“I have asked her to join the select few I will be bringing with me to Reusbasium. And she agreed.” Mari set her elbows on her desk and folded her hands under her chin. “I did not order her, but I believe she likes the idea of a peacekeeping assignment as opposed to city defense.”

“Yeah… That probably would suit her better…” Yoshiko agreed. “But if there is concern of an invasion, how would that be any different than here?”

“Because our intent would be to dissuade such tactics in the first place.”

“I suppose…”

“Anyway, I obviously cannot order you to do anything, but if you wish to continue getting closer to Ricocchi…”

“… I’ll… go pack my things…”

“Good to hear.” Mari smiled. “Would you like to tell her yourself, or should I?”

“I’ll tell her myself, thanks.”

“<Fantastic.>”

Then, without another word, Yoshiko turned on her heel and made her departure.

“Yocchan?” A voice said from the hall.

“R-Riri?!” Yoshiko spun toward the redhead behind her.

Holy hell, that dress was adorable. It was just a simple white dress, standard angelic fare, with pink flowers as accents, but it suited the healer far better than any armor in the realm. And Yoshiko couldn’t take her eyes off her.

“I…” Yoshiko’s voice cracked, forcing her to pause and clear her throat. Geez, was this going to happen every time they met? “I was just looking for you.”

“Well, you found me.” Riko smiled. “And I was actually looking for you as well.”

Riri was looking for me? Why does that make me so happy? Yoshiko found herself wondering. Well, I know why it makes me happy, but why to such an extent? However, when the redhead’s smile turned wistful, she became worried instead.

“I’m sorry, Yocchan.” Riko’s gaze swung downward. “I know we just met and I made a promise to help you, but…”

“You’re being transferred again.” Yoshiko finished when the other girl trailed off.

“I volunteered.”

“I know.”

Riko looked up. “You do?”

“Mari just told me. But…”

“Would you come with us?” Riko suddenly asked. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Yoshiko laughed. “I was just going to say that yes, I will be joining you in Reusbasium.”

“That’s wonderful.” Riko’s natural smile returned. “I can introduce you to my friends.”

“In Reusbasium?”

Riko shook her head. “No, across the border.”

“You have friends among the fey?”

“Uh huh.” Riko nodded. “And I haven’t seen them in ages. In fact, I accepted the transfer here because it got me that much closer, but now I’ll be stationed right there on the border.”

“Hrm…”

“You don’t like fey?”

“No, that’s not it.” Yoshiko shook her head. “I guess I always thought they weren’t that fond of us, something about angels being too uppity or whatever. I mean, they don’t hate us; they aren’t our enemies like the demons.” Even though… She wondered if she should finish that thought.

“I think you’ll find them more accepting than you seem to believe.”

“Maybe…”

“Besides, you’re not exactly the stereotypical uppity angel.”

That was certainly true, so Yoshiko bobbed her head back and forth in amused agreement.

“So…” Riko furrowed her brow as a thought occurred to her. “If you weren’t planning on spending time in fey territory, what were you planning to do in Reusbasium?”

Yoshiko shrugged. “Besides hang out with you and be on the lookout for demons to fight?”

Riko laughed lightly. “Yes, besides that.”

“I’ve been fine with just Phobetor up until now, so…”

“You should visit Campi, on the other side of the border.”

“Maybe…”

“It’s where I will be meeting my friends.”

“Hrm…”

“They have an amazing hot spring.”

Yoshiko raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t think I won’t drag you there.”

“Are you saying I need a bath?”

“No, that’s…” The other girl’s laugher cut her off.

“I’m sorry, I’ll come with you to Campi.” Yoshiko said, still chuckling “I can’t remember the last time I’ve been to a hot spring. Think they’d allow Phobetor in?”

“I thought cats hated water?”

“He’s about as normal a cat as I am a normal angel. I think he’d love it.”

“So,” a voice suddenly said from nearby “are you going to stand here flirting all day or are you going to get ready for travel?”

“F-flirting…?” Yoshiko sputtered, spinning to spy Mari standing in the open doorway of her office, wearing a sly grin.

“I’ve secured a transport for the two of you and they’ll be ready to go by noon.”

“We’re not going with you?” Riko asked, her cheeks only starting to lose the redness that had blossomed a moment ago.

“Well, you can, Rikocchi.” The blonde pointed out. “But that would leave…”

“I see.” The redhead nodded. “Understood.”

“I can be ready by then.” The blue-haired girl offered.

“Good, then you’ll be meeting them at the gate at that time.”

“Do you need any help packing, Yocchan?” Riko turned her attention to the other girl in the hall.

“I’ll be good, thanks.” Yoshiko replied. “There isn’t much.”

“So, see you at the gate at noon?”

“Alright, see you then.”

Just before departing, Yoshiko was able to steal one last glance at Riko’s smile. On her way to her soon-to-be-former home, she found herself thinking about the redhead. She couldn’t help recalling that Riko hadn’t denied the possibility that they had been flirting, even if Mari had only been teasing. And she had just chosen to forgo traveling with the rest of the task force in favor of going with Yoshiko. Perhaps… maybe… just maybe, Mari was on to something with her offer. And maybe, just maybe, Yoshiko might think about taking her up on it.

Author’s Notes Continued in Followup Post

[janephillipsblog]

Babette’s Gift

I recently closed my first semi-professional theatre experience with Fire Exit Theatre. It was quite a journey and a very rewarding and challenging one at that.

Back in August, I auditioned for “Babette’s Feast”, a play adaptation of the short story by Isak Dineson, conceived and developed by Abigail Killeen and written by Rose Courtney. It turned out to be a very unconventional audition as the venue was not open during my time slot. We auditioned in groups and my group ended up auditioning outside in a residential area. We worked on scenes from the script as well as doing group performance exercises for the director, Jeany Van Meltebeke, to see how we worked together as an ensemble.

Several days later I received an email from Artistic Director, Val Lieske, offering me a role in the ensemble, with the note that specific roles would be assigned at a later date. A couple of weeks later, another email was sent with assigned roles. I would be playing Babette as well as a little bit of ensemble work in the first part of the play before Babette makes her first entrance. 

Photo Credit: Andrea Cross Photography. With Kyla Ferrier and Sarah Haggeman.

“Babette’s Feast” is set in a small Norwegian town called Berlevaag and centres around two sisters, the children of a dean to a religious sect. The two sisters, Martine and Philippa, despite their beauty, offers of marriage, and for Philippa, a chance to be an opera singer, remain in Berlevaag as spinsters throughout their life, carrying on the work of the dean after his death. In their autumn years, they take in Babette, a French refugee from the Paris Commune, as a housekeeper. Babette was once a celebrated chef at the Café Anglais in Paris and had fought as a communard, alongside her husband and son, both of whom were killed in the civil war. The story culminates in Babette’s gift to the sisters and the community – a fabulous feast of French cuisine.

We had about a three-month rehearsal period before we moved into the Engineered Air Theatre at Arts Commons, throughout which, Jeany gently pushed us to “tell good story,” paying attention to the details and working on the subtext of the script. Looking back it was incredible how much we gleaned from between the lines of what at first appeared to be a simple script and story. Rachel Peacock, as well as being a part of the cast, was the composer and musical director for the production and her compositions enhanced the show no end, with the music performed with a harp, violin, glockenspiel, our vocals and even toy wooden blocks!

I made some personal discoveries as a performer during the process. Jeany would often tell me to work on being neutral emotionally at certain parts in the play. Well, people have always been able to read me like a book and I am a terrible liar as it simply shows too much on my face. Poker player I am not! For acting there is so much to work on within to achieve what the audience will eventually see. Part of that skill is learning to live in the present, moment by moment. What human doesn’t wander emotionally into the past or future? In the many years of doing theatre, I have learnt that this mental wandering out of the present can trip a performer up in a performance.

During the rehearsal process, imposter syndrome also raised its ugly head on occasion. This was my first production out of the community theatre world where most other fellow cast mates have other careers and acting is a hobby and a different way to socialize for a lot of people. Not that there is anything wrong with that, it is a fantastic hobby and there is nothing wrong with not wanting to pursue it as a career and a person can still strive for excellence in a pastime. From the day of the first read-through, I discovered that I was among kindred spirits. I was with people working in some capacity within the industry and who wore many hats like myself, often with many projects on the go at the same time. I felt at home, however often my anxiety would whisper negative things in my ear that I didn’t belong.

The biggest challenge for me was the fact that Babette was French. Whilst it wasn’t a goal of the production for the performers to have impeccable accents, I did not want Babette to sound English. I also did not want her to have a stereotypical French accent. There were also a few lines in French within the script which presented another challenge. During high school in Ottawa, probably in Grade 11 or 12 (I have moved from the UK the summer before I started Grade 11), I was kicked out of Grade 10 French for struggling with the work in the class. My mother is still angry about it and I realize now that it was probably more to do with the teacher wanting to keep her class averages up than my learning ability. I was a shy and self-conscious teenager who hated speaking aloud in class and had always been very self-conscious about the way I spoke even in English, let alone a foreign language, as we had moved around a lot and I always had a different dialect. Those early days in high school in Ottawa usually meant I had to repeat sentences about three times to my friends before they understood what I was saying! The result was that I no longer had confidence in my ability to even learn to speak a second language. I seem to recall that in the UK, I had quite enjoyed French and German classes, but in Ottawa, everyone was so far ahead in French. The last French course I took was in first year of university as a degree requirement. My inability to speak Canada’s other official language was one of the reasons I ended up moving to Alberta.

There is a section in the script where the ensemble repeat some of the French words spoken by Babette. At the first readthrough during which I most likely pronounced the French lines incorrectly and with limited understanding of the meaning, having the words repeated caught me by surprise and in a moment of self-consciousness, I honestly thought some of the others were correcting my pronunciation! This was not the case! Though certainly down the road, Caleb and John, other cast members (Caleb was also the assistant director), helped me with the pronunciation. Google Translate also became a good friend! I talked about my hang-ups with speaking French with Caleb about two weeks before we moved into the theatre. He asked me when I was going to let them go. Right now, was my reply! I had already upped the ante for myself by inviting French-speaking friends to the show and at this point it was time to really put in some work. I would record myself speaking Babette’s lines to ensure they sounded like Babette and not me.          

Photo Credit: Andrea Cross Photography

By the week of our final rehearsals, I felt that Babette had really arrived. I felt confident in my ability to portray her on stage. I was super-excited to be in a show at the Engineered Air Theatre. I had been in the venue once during the Festival of Animated Objects in March (I love the retro décor) and on the first day we were in the theatre, I remembered the intention I had set through a selfie on Facebook in May during the Bouffon workshop (held in the ATP rehearsal hall) that I hoped to again enter and exit the stage door of Arts Commons many, many times in the not too distant future. Well it came true! That is the power of manifestation, folks – I also manifested a free transit ticket that day.  

Opening night was on a Wednesday. Fire Exit has a tradition for everyone to wear red shoes on opening night (started by Val and her red boots). I found a really nice pair that day in the WINS thrift store and they went really well with my green Christmas leggings. We had a talk back after the performance, my first ever. There were a couple of complimentary comments about how humble Babette was. In the lobby after, a lady asked if I was French! All our performances went really well, despite sickness making its way around the cast (par for the course for a December show – I was lucky as I had been sick a few weeks prior). Once we had an audience, we discovered that what had seemed like a serious play for the most part, was actually quite whimsical and fun throughout. Our audiences were great, very loving and kind. My French-speaking friends told me that they understood every word and joked how they were going to converse with me in French now.

Photo Credit: Andrea Cross Photography. From left to right: John Moerschbacher, Kyla Ferrier, Daniel Kim, Caleb Gordon, me, Sarah Haggeman, Rachel Peacock, Kendra Hutchinson and Ainsley Daumler.

“Babette’s Feast” was over too soon after a run of only seven performances. It will be an experience that I will forever treasure and remember. Thank you to all involved for sharing this incredible journey with me!