#I like the demon girl but I like this blue haired rascal more | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

drabbles-of-writing · 3 years ago

Text

Coming Home

AO3

third owl fight attack! This one’s prompt was “Hunter and Luz being siblings”, and I kinda ran with it

Summary: Saying that Hunter was worried for Luz would be an overstatement. He wasn't worried, he was just...vaguely curious. He knew that she'd take some time in the human realm, to be with her mother, but...well, it'd been almost two weeks, and nobody had heard a single thing from her. So, really, breaking and entering was an entirely reasonable reaction.

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

Now, Hunter knew, on some level, that Luz would be in the human realm for a while.

To be fair, he hadn’t had much time to think about it, what with everything going on. There was the Grimwalker revelation, which was also a kind-of clone revelation, and Luz offering an outstretched hand, and sitting on the ground in the human realm with the portal flickering and pulsing angrily, the dust settling as he held his uncles broken mask in his hands--

He’d been more than a little preoccupied, to say the least.

And Luz had gone through the portal the second it had all finally calmed, when there was nothing left to fight, with goodbyes he couldn’t remember. He wasn’t sure exactly when, everything had gone pretty numb by that point.

He just knew that after the first two days, when he was finally dragged out of his miserable wallowing in ditches by a very exasperated palisman and Owl Lady, Luz wasn’t there.

The others noticed her absence and the slight hole she left, he knew they did, but they never really commented on it. What with Bonesborough falling apart in a literal and metaphorical sense, everyone was kinda busy trying to patch all of it up. Like dealing with that one demon who kept talking about ancient magic, who was apparently the small rat demon's dad. And making sure Kikimora stopped escaping prison for five minutes. And dealing with the other Coven Heads. And apparently there was some people mad that the old wild witch ways were coming back--

Nobody really had the time to wonder about Luz off in the human realm, seeing her mother again.

And for the first week, he didn’t worry. He had an existential crisis and bothersome witches to avoid like the plague. His days were spent distracting himself by making everyone's lives miserable, since they kept insisting on holding him captive in the Owl House instead of letting him decompose in the woods for some reason. And honestly, Luz knew way too many people, because he’d stopped bothering to keep track of everyone by the fourth hour of being in that house.

After he realized trying to run for it or annoying everyone into kicking him out wouldn’t work, he mostly hid in the dark corners where nobody would see him for hours at a time. Used to be for days, but apparently the Owl Lady was just as nocturnal as him, and they’d run into each other early in the morning when trying to grab a snack.

He had Rascal for company, at least. Say what you will about the little guy, but he was as loyal as he was stubborn.

But, after the first week, Hunter was starting to really notice a severe lack of annoying humans running around.

Apparently, so was the others, because he was noticing a few of them beginning to get a little antsy. He would’ve brushed it off, but he could hear a distinct influx of mutterings that sounded like ‘Luz’ and ‘portal’ and ‘human realm’ from his hiding places, when they thought no one else was around.

It was almost halfway through the second week before he knew it, and that was far too long for Luz to be away without so much as a note.

And she was probably fine, he reasoned. But Luz being away without even a call was suspicious enough, two was downright concerning.

By then, Hunter was somewhat starting to recognize the faces that filtered in and out of the Owl House, and he began to plan.

Somehow, he managed to wait until he saw a girl with familiar purple hair step in through the doorway, speaking words he didn’t bother to listen to as she sat on the couch he was hiding under.

Rascal had, of course, chosen to perch himself on the head of a chair across the room, where barely anyone would care to notice him.

She was talking to some small illusionist he saw earlier (he may recognize faces, but names were a whole other matter. He’d never had to memorize names unless they were important to Belos, and if they weren’t, they were irrelevant. He should probably work on remembering their names), something about buildings and repairs or something, it wasn’t his problem. When the illusionist stepped away, off towards the kitchen to grab something, Hunter decided to poke his head out from underneath the couch.

“So what's the word on-- ow!” He yelped, jerking back under the couch when he got a foot kicked into his nose.

“Titan, don’t do that, you prick!” Amity snapped, inching a little further to the left as Hunter peeked out only one eye from under the couch this time, giving his best spiteful glare. “Why are you even down there?”

“Because nobody bothers me,” Hunter growled, holding his nose as he began to wiggle out. “Everyone’s so clingy in this house, it’s maddening.”

“Do you actually mean clingy, or are you referring to basic kindness?” Amity raised a brow, narrowing her eyes as he stood and brushed himself off from the dust bunnies that gathered under the couch.

“Irrelevant. Why hasn’t the human returned yet?” He demanded, leaning against the arm of the couch as Amity sat at the other end, giving a reasonable distance between them.

“Luz?” Amity blinked, clearly taken aback by the question.

“Yes, is there another, different human that you have to bring up every five minutes I should know about?” Hunter snapped, and got a curled lip and bared teeth from Amity in response.

“What, getting bored of the rest of us?” Amity snarked, crossing her arms.

“Don’t flatter yourself, barely any of you were entertaining to begin with.” Hunter huffed. “Now do you know why the human is avoiding us or not?”

“Avoiding?” Amity frowned. “Luz’s not avoiding us, she’s just visiting her mom.”

“With radio silence for almost two weeks,” Hunter said, doing his best to stamp down his impatience.

He really would have rathered asking the Owl Lady about this, but he’d learned from the last time he tried that she’d twist any conversation regarding Luz to be about him, so the next logical best bet would have to be her incessant, chattery, girlfriend. Titan, Luz had the weirdest tastes.

“She’s been away from her mom for four months.” Amity said, rolling her eyes like this was some concept he wasn't understanding. “She’s not gonna see her for a day and then come right back.”

“But still!” Hunter threw his hands in the air, ignoring Rascal’s minorly concerned chirp from across the room. “You think someone like Luz would go without contact for almost two weeks? She would’ve at least popped in to say hello, or go on some ramble about what’s going on in the human realm. She’d feel guilty about leaving you guys to repair everything on your own by the second hour.”

“It’s just...taking her a minute,” Amity said, and that was the first small crack in her resolve he saw. Had she not seen him at his lowest the first time they spoke, he would’ve been proud of the fact he could chip away at her far easier than she could at him. “Luz wouldn’t avoid anyone out of the blue, that’s not like her.”

And he knew she was right on that, as infuriating it was to admit it. Luz wouldn’t abandon people, she’d be more likely to keel over on the spot from spontaneously growing a bile sac. And perhaps a part of him was being a little over dramatic, but there was just this little twist in his chest that curled tighter when he considered going back to hiding in empty rooms and letting everything continue on, waiting to see if anything would change rather than making it change.

“Besides,” Amity continued. “As Luz’s girlfriend, I think that I would know if--”

“Oh Titan, just forget it.” Hunter groaned, tugging on his ears as he stepped away from the couch. “Whatever, you’re useless about this, anyway. If you don’t know when she’s coming back, and the Owl Lady doesn’t know, then nobody will.”

Amity stayed silent for a moment as Hunter stormed off towards the doorway that led to the staircase, Rascal flying off his perch to land on his shoulder with soft, almost melodic chirrups.

He contemplated if he could steal something from one of the spare rooms up there. Everyone was fluctuating between them the last few days, but they often left their stuff in there for him to take. It was fun watching them get so riled up about their missing junk.

“We,” Amity started, and Hunter paused in the doorway, one ear pricked. “We were planning on going into the human realm,” She admitted, voice quiet. “If we didn’t hear anything from Luz by the end of this week.”

Hunter turned around then, noting Amity had one hand bunched up on her leg, fisting the hem of her shirt and rubbing her fingers between it in a nervous tick. She avoided his gaze, and he saw, for just the briefest of moments, the uncertainty spilling off of her, possibly having been doing so for far longer than when he’d noticed the same signs from everyone else.

“Well,” He said, and she looked up at him then, and the vulnerability was gone in a snap, replaced by a curious, slightly accusatory, expression. It unnerved him how familiar it looked. “By all means, don’t go telling me about your super secret rescue missions, not like I’d want to join.” He muttered.

“Count it a blessing that I told you at all,” Amity hissed, ears flicking back. “Maybe if you promise to be nice, we’ll let you come along.” She taunted.

“Maybe if you people hadn’t kidnapped me, I wouldn’t be causing so many problems.” Hunter growled back through gritted teeth, breaking eye contact for only a moment when Rascal lightly bit and tugged on his ear, trying to urge him away.

“Like you need an excuse--”

“Uh, am-am I interrupting?”

The two turned their heads, realizing that the small illusionist, he’d figure out the kids name later, was standing in the living room again, a box of juice in his hands as his eyes flicked between them.

“No, Golden Boy was just leaving.” Amity waved him off, leaning back against the couch.

“You weren’t even clever with that one, Blight.” Hunter sneered, rolling his eyes as he turned to leave.

“Wittebane.”

“Call me that again and I’m ripping your teeth out.” Hunter threatened, pointing a finger at her as he backed out of the room.

“No name,” Amity amended, sticking her tongue out at him.

“You are on thin ice.”

That night, Hunter was opening the window in Luz’s old room.

His escape attempts had never really worked before, the weird tube demon in the front door took his job of keeping him contained very seriously. Everyone else just liked watching the show and tapping in when needed.

However, he also knew, from the mutterings that Luz had told him in those few snatches of time in the days that they had talked before everything went wrong (or right, depending on who you asked), that she’d snuck out through her window multiple times without the demon realizing. Apparently she had bribed him once or twice, and now he barely reacted to the sound of her window opening, sort of like a reflex.

He’d meant to use it for his next escape attempt, just to see if it’d work for him, to run for the hills if it worked, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He’d be damned if they left him out of nabbing Luz from the human realm.

So Hunter tugged his cloak tighter across his shoulders, despite it being torn in many places, he had yet to rid it completely, and slowly opened Luz’s window.

He waited, tense, Rascal just as silent from within his hood. When there wasn’t the sound of a piercing voice after a few seconds, he cautiously poked his head out.

Nothing.

Either the bird really had grown to have no reaction to Luz’s window opening, or he was just as tired as everyone else. Or off eating bugs, that was plausible.

He slowly edged out, only having a moment to peer down at the ground below until he swung out of the window, hands gripping the windowsill as he edged himself down.

He hung in the air for a moment before releasing the windowsill, dropping to the ground below in a crouch. The perks of the Emperor’s Coven were few and far between, but hey, living there had made him an expert at being quiet.

He darted around the Owl House, crouching so as to avoid being seen through the first-floor windows, because there was always someone awake, no matter the hour. The portal to the human realm had been moved not too far away, but far enough that it couldn’t be, you know, automatically seen by anyone approaching the building.

He spared one last glance towards the house before he booked it off towards the woods, already mentally cursing himself for wearing a white cloak in the middle of the night. Why did he think that was a good idea, why did he think that was a good idea--

He made it to the cover of trees, somehow, without anyone sounding the alarm. He ducked behind a tree, catching his breath for a moment as he waited for shouting to arise.

Upon realizing he was in the clear, he pumped a fist in the air with a soft “yes!” and got an encouraging whistle from Rascal, who he gave a quick scratch on the head to.

He then hurried a bit further into the trees, soon faced with branches, vines, and bushes all stretched out across the beginning of a slope before him.

He reached out, grabbing one of the vines and yanking it aside, revealing the structure of the portal to the human realm, its soft humming mostly muffled by everything covering it. He ran his hand down the exterior of it for a second before pushing more vines aside, allowing a small enough space for him to crawl through.

He’d been to the human realm before, technically. Belos’s wrath had only just begun to reach into the human realm before he had managed to be stopped, and Hunter had a few moments out there, feeling the grass and seeing the trees. They really were green, and he couldn’t help but see it all and know with certainty that there was no magic within any of it. Hollow. It was a feeling he was familiar with.

But this time was different, and he inhaled for a moment before giving Rascal what he hoped was his best determined look.

“Alright,” He said. “Let’s see what’s been keeping her.”

He spent about half an hour in the woods of the human realm until he managed to find Luz’s house.

She’d never really said where she lived, just that it was the closest house to the forest. Nothing about directions, so he spent his time wandering about trying to find a house that wasn’t falling apart.

Rascal gave up and eventually flew off at some point, returning about five minutes later, chittering loudly and pulling on his hood. Hunter knew better to argue, and had followed until he came across a house that actually looked lived in, as opposed to the one he’d appeared in.

“If you led me to a random person's house, I will throw you into the sea.” Hunter warned, only getting a cheery whistle in return as he walked around the house.

He eventually found a window on the first floor, and pushing on it, was delighted to find that it was unlocked. He opened it, hoisting himself inside as Rascal darted in.

He realized the window was right over a kitchen sink, and lightly stepped a foot onto the counter beside it. He slowly swung himself inside, not even bothering to shut the window behind him as he dropped to the floor. He might need that escape route later.

Rascal was off exploring without a second thought, so he allowed himself to stalk throughout the kitchen, eyes flickering over photos and magnets stuck to the fridge. He saw ones that looked like letters, colors, and even saw a photo of a woman and a young, crazy-looking child.

He peeked around corners as he darted through the house, cracking open doors before continuing through hallways. One of the doors he opened looked like a bedroom, but he saw something with a scaly tail poking out, so he let that room be. The human realm was bound to have its own oddities.

The other bedroom he saw did have a person sleeping in it, but she didn’t look like Luz, much too old, so he quietly shut that door again and tried a different one.

He opened the last one, at the end of the hallway, already preparing to snap back that Rascal had brought him to the wrong house, when he took in the bedroom.

He only needed to see it for half a second to see the immediate resemblance to the mess that was Luz’s room in the Owl House. He slipped inside, leaving the door open just a crack in case Rascal showed up.

He crouched, eyeing the posters along the walls, shelves full of random junk, books strewn across the room. The figure sleeping in the bed was practically twisted backwards, blankets already halfway on the floor. He approached it, slowly standing up as he loomed over them, searching their face.

“Oh thank the Titan,” Hunter breathed, stepping back as he pressed a hand to his chest. That was Luz, for sure.

She stirred, slightly, hand twitching as she mumbled incoherently in her sleep. At least she wasn’t actually kidnapped or something, he reasoned.

“Hey, human,” He said, a little louder, but enough that he hoped the others down the hallway wouldn’t hear, shoving at her shoulder. “Wakey wakey.”

Luz mumbled in her sleep again, one eye barely cracking open before she turned over and tried to bury further under her covers.

Hunter grabbed her leg poking out from the blankets and yanked her off.

Luz’s yelp was cut off as he smothered the blankets over her, pausing as she fumbled around trying to get it off, ears pricked as he waited to see if anyone had heard.

“I’m awake, Vee, I’m awake--” Luz pulled the blanket off her head, her glare almost immediately replaced with shock.

“Hey,” Hunter grinned, flashing fangs. “Miss me?”

“Hunter?” Luz exclaimed, before immediately covering her mouth with her hands, eyes darting towards her door like she expected someone to be there.

“Oh don’t sound so surprised.” Hunter scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You oughta step up your game if you think you can escape me in another dimension.”

“What are you doing here?” Luz whisper-yelled, scrambling to her feet as she looked wildly around her room. “Did-did the others come?” She asked, giving him such a scared look he was a little put off by it.

“No? I mean, they will be, I just got ahead of the curve.” Hunter shrugged off her odd reactions. “Made sure I got to you before they did, didn’t feel like being left behind on the ‘let’s drag Luz back kicking and screaming’ plan.”

“Oh no, oh no,” Luz shook her head, one hand on her head as she began to pace. “Are-are the others looking for me?”

“Will be by the end of this week,” Hunter said, watching her curiously. “Why? This a bad time or something?”

“Yes! Yes, this is a terrible time!” Luz exclaimed, barely managing to keep her voice down as she whirled towards him.

“Did you get grounded?” Hunter narrowed his eyes. “Because if so, let me just say, I know about fifteen different ways to lessen the extent of the grounding, and twice as many ways to sneak out, this place isn’t even all that fortified--”

“No! Well, I mean, I kind of am,” Luz winced. “But that’s not--you can’t--you need to go.” Luz said, gesturing back towards the door. “You can’t be here.”

“Do you need a body disposed of? Because I also know a lot of ways to--”

“I’m touched, but no.” Luz gave him a withering look. “Don’t even wanna know why you know that. You have to leave.” She insisted, beginning to shove him towards the door.

“Aw, but I came all this way to see you,” Hunter whined in a dramatic tease, slowly leaning back, therefore putting more strain on Luz as she tried to push him out. “You don’t want to see me?”

“Believe me, I’m very happy to see you’re okay,” Luz assured through gritted teeth, offering the smallest of smiles. “And I’ll bother you later. But now is not the time.”

Rascal took that moment to poke in through the crack in the doorway, landing on a shelf and eyeing the two with what felt like judgement. Hunter promptly dropped all his weight on Luz, nearly crushing her.

“Damn,” He whistled when Luz’s knees refused to buckle. “You got some muscle hiding under those skinny bones?”

“That, and you weigh as much as a half-filled sack of lumpy potatoes.” Luz muttered, already pushing back up to her full height as she took Hunter with her.

“You’re impossible.” Hunter huffed, standing back up onto his feet and snickering as Luz stumbled with the lack of weight. “Seriously, what’s the hold up? Are you getting bored with us already?”

“No, first of all, I’d never do that.” Luz pointed a finger at him. “And I’m offended you thought I ever would be.”

“It’s a reasonable assumption.”

“It’s not. And second of all, I’m serious, you cannot be here.” Luz stressed, grabbing his shoulders, a movement that instinctively caused him to flinch, just the tiniest bit. “If my mom sees you here, she’s going to freak--”

“Luz?” A groggy voice called, and Luz stiffened so quickly with such terror crossing her face that Hunter tensed as well. “Creí haber escuchado algo, are you--?”

Hunter saw the door to Luz’s room open, and immediately threw an arm out in front of Luz, giving a quick whistle that Rascal had learned to recognize by now. In a flash, he was holding his staff in his other hand, Luz pushed behind him as he pointed his staff towards the figure in the doorway, ears pressed back and fangs bared in a low, warning growl.

The person froze, eyes going wide, one hand still clutching the door handle.

He recognized it as the older woman he saw in one of the bedrooms, hair still mussied from sleep, the glasses on her face smudged from someone having grabbed them clumsily. The sleep had vanished from her eyes the moment she saw him, a faintly glowing staff pointed only a foot away from her.

“Hunter, Hunter, no, stop!” Luz was quick to grab Hunter’s arm after barely a second of tense silence, shoving the staff down. “She’s my mom, she’s safe!”

Hunter paused at that. Granted, his experience with biological family (as biological as Belos could be) wasn’t the best, but he had heard a few stories, here and there, about Luz’s mom. And Luz would go into a Slitherbeast den for anyone who asked nicely, but hey, he still thought that if someone was willing to fight Emperor Belos for them, they had to be something special.

“Oh, sorry.” He said, all hostility evaporating as he drew his staff back, holding it at his side. “Reflexes.”

“Luz,” The woman said, slowly, and Hunter was so instantly reminded of when the adults dealing with him were trying so hard to not lose their shit that he halfway raised his arm to shield Luz again. “Por qué hay un chico extraño en tu habitación?”

“Puedo explicarlo!” Luz was quick to exclaim, clutching Hunter’s arm, and he looked blankly between them. He’d heard of other languages in the Isles before, often ones spoken by demons, but this was a new one on him.

“Oh estoy segura de que lo harás!” The woman snapped back, hands on her hips now, not bothering to keep her voice low.

“What’s she saying?” Hunter whispered to Luz, eyes still darting between the two. “Is this a ‘we’re about to start fighting’ situation or a ‘you’re grounded for life’ situation?”

“No te puedo creer.” Luz's mom grumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Okay, so, uh,” Luz clasped her hands together. “I promise, mami, this is not what it looks like.”

“What does it look like?” Hunter blinked, giving Luz a concerned expression now. “It doesn't look like I’m a robber, right? Because this place has nothing near worth stealing.”

“Please stop talking,” Luz hissed out of the corner of her mouth, never taking her eyes off her mother. “Mami, this is, uh,” She faltered for a moment. “This is Hunter.”

Her mother cracked open an eye from where she was rubbing the bridge of her nose, sending such a seething glare that both kids shuttered.

“You know what,” Hunter said, letting Rascal transform out of a staff and back into his usual self, letting the bird land on his shoulder as he clapped his hands together. “I can see that you're busy, so I think I’ll just be--why is she staring at me like that?”

The woman was staring at him now, well, Rascal, eyes locked on the cardinal on his shoulder like it had suddenly grown five heads. He flicked an ear in confusion, turning to Luz to ask what her mom’s problem was, only to see Luz immediately face-palm.

“Estoy atascado con un idiota,” Luz mumbled under her breath, and Hunter could pretty easily guess what the last word had meant, and bristled at it.

“Hey--”

“Okay, so, Hunter,” Luz kept her hands pressed together, using them both to point towards him. “Thank you for the visit, really, but I think we’re done here.”

“We,” Luz’s mom finally managed to speak, and Luz cringed with a sheepish smile. “Are going to have a talk.” She growled, though it lacked any of the reverberating sounds an actual growl would have. He always wondered how humans ever got the last hit of their point across without growls or clicks or hisses. He realized now that tone had a lot to do with it.

“And that includes you, young man.” The woman added, turning her glare towards Hunter, and he wouldn’t be ashamed to admit he wilted a bit under it. She could’ve disintegrated Kikimora on the spot with a look like that.

“Yes, ma’am.” Hunter ducked his head, and ignored the quiet snickers from Luz that she quickly tried to smother.

The woman stepped to the side, allowing the two of them to shuffle out of the room. Luz went out first, giving Hunter an expression that was somehow both ‘sorry’ and ‘I told you so’ and boy did he want to punch it.

Hunter hurried out after her, one hand cupped over Rascal protectively, unable to fight back the urge to hide him from everyone and everything new, that he’d be broken in half the second anyone got close.

As he passed her, he knew she was staring at him with a far sharper gaze than she had Luz. He glanced out the corner of his eye, and she was staring at his ears, at Rascal, and just as he stepped into the hallway, her eyes narrowed in on the scar along the side of his face.

He’d had people stare at his scars before, it wasn’t new. Scars weren’t uncommon in the Boiling Isles, but ones as big and prominent as his were generally expected of witches far older than him, far more known for their battles and their victories.

He growled in the back of his throat, briefly twitching his lip to flash a fang. It was near-instinctive at this point, a quiet reminder of who he was, of who shadowed over him, and that it was impolite to stare, to mind your own business.

Luz’s mom jerked back at it, a far stronger reaction than the ones he was used to getting. He was used to a quick aversion of the eyes, hurrying to turn their heads the other way, a simple glance to elsewhere in the room. She stared at him with even more apprehension and worry than before, like she was confronted with a wild animal in her home.

His ears pressed down and he hurried off down the hallway, almost stepping on Luz’s heels from how close he walked behind her.

He noticed an eye peeking out of a room up ahead, and Luz gave a weak, almost teasing, salute to whoever was inside. He saw a flash of scales and what might've been a pitying look until they slipped out of view.

Luz stood off to the side as she exited the hallway, and Hunter stood next to her. He gave her a questioning look, one she nearly missed from how much she was staring at her feet. He nudged her shoulder, gaining her attention, and Luz gave a weak, nervous smile.

Alright, so he was definitely missing something here with his woman.

“Kitchen table,” Luz’s mom said, pointing, and the two obeyed. Hunter had no real reason to, he knew this. She was human, he could just leave, and she wouldn’t be able to stop him. But she was important to Luz, clearly, and he knew, tragically, that he’d feel guilty if he left Luz alone.

Luz sat in one of the chairs at the round table, and Hunter took the one next to her. Her mother eyed them for a moment before taking the one across from them.

“Can I just say, that I did not invite Hunter here--”

“Oh, so that’s how it's gonna be?” Hunter whirled his head to her. “Throwing me under the bus? Sorry I wanted to check in.”

“I am telling it as the truth.” Luz insisted, glaring at him. “Would you rather I tell her that I purposefully invited you here at,” She turned towards the wall, squinting at a clock hanging there. “Two twenty-three? Why did you come here so late?” She demanded.

“Technically, it’s early.” Hunter corrected.

“I’m actually going to punch your teeth out.”

Rascal cheeped from his shoulder, and Hunter nodded sagely like he had said something. Rascal could talk to him, of course, in words that only he could hear, but he often didn’t. And the best part was that he could never prove to anyone that Rascal wasn’t shit-talking them.

“Enough, both of you . ” Luz’s mother said firmly, hands placed on the table that had them both straightening to attention. “Luz,” She turned to her daughter, rubbing her temple with one hand as she gestured with the other towards Hunter. “Explain him, please.”

“Like, life story, or why he’s here, or what he is, or--”

“Just please tell me he’s not from where I think he’s from.”

“Oh,” Luz glanced between Hunter and her mother, gears turning in her head. “He’s...not?”

“Dios ayúdame,” Her mother groaned.

“You told me to say he wasn’t! Actually,” Luz frowned as she turned to Hunter. “Do you count as someone from the demon realm, biologically? I don’t know how that whole, er, Grimwalker thing worked, like are you a direct clone, or--”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, because I’ve been avoiding dealing with that whole situation for the past two weeks, and I’m not about to start now.” Hunter raised a hand to cut her off.

“You…” Luz narrowed her eyes at him. “You need a therapist, dude.”

“You’re the fifth person to say that in the last week.”

“Why,” Luz’s mother cut in again, silencing their conversation. “Is there a demon boy in my house?”

“I’m a witch,” Hunter corrected.

“Don’t you count as, like, half a--”

“What did I just say, Luz?”

“Right,” Luz snapped her mouth shut. “Uh, so, I’m assuming he broke in--”

Hunter groaned, gripping his head in his hands as he slouched over the table. Rascal chittered gently as he hopped off his shoulder and onto the table, nudging his arm.

“--but he wasn’t going to cause any trouble!” Luz added quickly, seeing her mothers expression continue to sour. “He just-he wanted to make sure I was alright.”

The woman eyed the two of them for a moment, and Hunter refused to look up and meet her gaze.

“Hunter, is it?” The woman said slowly, cautious, suspicious, but not accusatory.

“Yes, ma’am.” Hunter sighed, relenting to lift his head, messy hair hanging in his face.

“How old are you, exactly?”

“Mami…”

“Sixteen, ma’am.” He mumbled, resting his cheek in his hand.

“And…” She hesitated for a moment. “How old is that in witch years…?”

“...sixteen?” Hunter gave her a perplexed look.

“They age the same as us.” Luz assured, and her mother seemed to relax just a bit.

“Gracias a Dios por eso,” Her mother mumbled. “Alright, and how did you get in?”

“Window,” He tilted his head off towards the one in question, still open over the sink.

“Of course,” The woman muttered under her breath. “The one time I didn’t lock it. Okay, now what is that?” She gestured towards Rascal on his shoulder, and he raised his hand to let the palisman hop onto his hand.

“My palisman,” He said, settling the bird down on the table, but keeping him a far enough distance from Luz’s mom that she wouldn’t be able to grab him. “I call him Rascal. Which reminds me,” He nudged Luz’s shoulder. “Where do you keep those seeds you have for your palisman? She keeps screaming at everyone and the Owl Lady doesn’t know how to make her shut up.”

“Is she okay?” Luz straightened.

“Yeah, little jays fine, she’s just being a pain in the ass.” Hunter grimaced.

“Watch your language, young man.” Luz’s mom leveled a finger at him, and he eyed it for a moment. “Now what do you mean ‘Luz’s pailsman?’ What in the world is a palisman?”

“Oh, uh, nothing! Nothing important, really. Just, like, staff things.” Luz said quickly, and Hunter and Rascal shared a look. Luz loved her palisman, as bratty as she was. And he knew from experience that Luz didn’t think of palismans as ‘nothing important.’

He drew a hand around Rascal and scooted him a little closer towards himself.

“Okay, okay,” Luz’s mother inhaled a steadying breath, as though to keep her cool. “And you are breaking into my house, early in the morning, to see my daughter.”

“Really just to make sure she didn’t, like, get kidnapped on the way up here.” Hunter shrugged. “Everyone's worried about her, so I took one for the team, and all that.”

“Everyone?” Her mother frowned.

“Her...friends?” Hunter gave Luz a sideways look, and she avoided his gaze.

“Mija, you have friends in the demon realm?” Luz’s mom balked, with the tone of someone who didn’t quite believe it, who almost felt as though they were being tricked.

“I told you a bit about them…” Luz mumbled, shifting uncomfortably.

“You,” Her mother chuckled, shaking her head, the first sign of anything lighter than what they’d had so far. “You really can’t help but be friendly to everyone, huh?”

“It’s how she got stuck with me, it’s a real problem.” Hunter said, and got an elbow jabbed into him for his troubles, wheezing as he clutched his side.

“Well, you certainly are an...interesting acquaintance,” Her mother said slowly, eyeing him, and he barely resisted the urge to briefly flash sharpened teeth when her gaze lingered on the scar across his face again. “And you showed up, by breaking in...just to check in on Luz?”

“Yeah?” Hunter managed to cough out, cracking open an eye to give the woman a confused look compared to her suspicious, searching one. “Why else?”

“...alright.” She said, and her gaze went back to her daughter. “I wasn’t aware that there would be... situations where the demon realm followed you back.”

“Neither did I, really.” Luz was quick to assure, hands raised. “Hunter of all people being worried about me is the most confusing and touching thing that’s happened so far.”

“I was not worried.” Hunter whirled to her. “I only came here because everyone else was, and they were going to leave me out of the rescue party.”

“Rescue party?” Luz’s mother startled, and he should really learn her name.

“Aha, he doesn't mean that.” Luz waved her hands quickly.

“I do?” Hunter narrowed his eyes. “The others were planning on busting out of the portal to come find you by the end of this week. I didn’t want to be left out, so I broke in ahead of time.”

“There are demons coming here?” The woman exclaimed, jumping to her feet.

“Pretty sure the little rat dog is the only demon coming along.” Hunter corrected. “The others are witches.”

“You know his name is King.” Luz grumbled.

“Yeah, but it's way more fun to call him a rat.”

“Luz, cariño, are we going to have more witches breaking in?” Her mother stressed, stepping away from the table and already beginning to pace.

“Not-not when Hunter gets back to them!” Luz said, also standing. “He can tell them to hold off, that I’m fine, and all that.”

“And deal with them getting all pissy I broke out?” Hunter demanded, scooping Rascal up in his hands as he, too, stood. “Hell no, either they hear from me with you there, or I don’t tell them shit.”

“Watch it,” Luz’s mother warned him again, this time only giving a quick glare. “And Luz is not going back there.”

“Then you have two to twenty witches, plus one demon, knocking on your door.” Hunter shrugged. “What’s the big deal?”

“Luz, what did you get into while you were in the demon realm?” Her mother groaned, rubbing her temples.

“I mean, you didn’t ask a lot... ” Luz tried, hovering about two feet from her mom.

“You have two to twenty magical demon people ready to break into our home to make sure you’re okay,” Her mother said, turning towards her daughter. “You didn’t...you didn’t tell me you had friends there.”

“I feel like I just said this,” Hunter squinted. “I told you Luz has friends in the Boiling Isles, isn’t that expected? She makes friends with everyone.”

Luz rubbed her arm and looked down at the ground, and her mother’s mouth twitched downwards for a brief moment. He felt like he was missing something.

“Are all of your friends like him?” Her mother said after a moment, gesturing with a hand off towards Hunter.

“I resent what that implies,” Hunter huffed, ears pressed down as he tucked Rascal between his neck and cloak.

“I mean, personality wise? No, he’s the biggest brat of them all.” Luz assured, and Hunter visibly took offence. “Well, Matt was also a brat, but he’s a friend of a friend, and I think he’s calmer now.”

“They are annoying, though.” Hunter piped up, and prided on barely reacting under Luz’s seething glare.

“Well they can’t come here, your first friend has already caused enough trouble.” Her mother said firmly, and Hunter rolled his eyes at that.

“Please, breaking and entering is tame for me.” Hunter scoffed, and got an even more worried, and possibly judging, look from the woman.

“You're not helping.” Luz whispered, immediately turning back to her mother. “I’m sure we can figure this whole thing out. I can probably get Hunter to tell them to calm them down without me having to go back, Rascal can bully him into it, he likes me.”

“That’s a low blow, human!” Hunter hissed, a low, drawn-out sound that had the woman tensing and Luz only rolling her eyes. “I do so much for you, and this is the thanks I get?” He ignored Rascal’s gleeful chitters that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

“We’re even on that front and you know it.”

“Debatable,”

“This is serious, Luz.” Her mother said, and Luz’s mouth clicked shut. “Christ,” She sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d made friends in the demon realm?”

“You didn’t ask…?” Luz said slowly.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Hunter said, leaning against the island counter. “I drag Luz back, she hangs for a day or two to calm everyone down, and she comes right back to have quality family time, or whatever you guys call it, until you’re all finished.”

“Absolutely not,” Her mother said instantly. “Luz will not go anywhere near that portal.”

“It’s not gonna blow up, it’s stable.” Hunter raised a brow, not noticing Luz freezing up.

“Luz is not going back to that demon realm,” She insisted, and he was sure she would be growling if she could. “Listen, could you please just tell the other witches to stay back? I don’t want any trouble from that realm coming through here.”

“Ouch,” Hunter said dryly, twitching an ear as he crossed his arms. “Why’s this got you in a tizzy? I came here to bring back Luz anyway, why is this an issue?”

Luz and her mother met eyes for a brief second, and Hunter knew then he was missing something, because it felt like a conversation passed between their eyes and Luz ducked her head again, ashamed.

“Luz,” Her mother spoke in soft tones, though she was rubbing at her face. “You didn’t tell your friends--”

“I was going to--”

“Luz, honey, you can’t omit details from people--”

“I know, I swear I was just busy trying to see you--”

Hunter set Rascal down on the island counter and gestured towards him. The palisman fluffed his wings before proceeding to peck incessantly on the counter, making a loud clinking noise. It got both humans mingling words to come to a stop as they both turned towards him.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt, but I’m still here.” Hunter said, scratching his bird's head to get him to cease once he had their full attention. “What am I missing?” He asked, pointing between the two.

“I apologize Luz hadn’t informed you earlier,” Her mother started, and Luz gripped her arms and looked away from them both, shoulders hunched. “But she won’t be going back to the demon realm.”

He stared. He blinked once, twice. He could see Rascal staring too, just barely in his line of sight.

“Come again?”

“Luz had been trapped there for so long,” Her mother went on. “And-and she was surrounded by demons and rain that scalded skin and-and Vee told me of Emperor’s and experiments,”

Hunter flinched at that, ears pressing flat as he turned his head to the side.

“It’s clearly not a safe place,” She continued, and her eyes dropped to his notched ear. “And...there’s much to catch up on, to talk about.” She said, in a polite tone that told him not to press that particular matter. “Surely, you can explain this to them?”

Hunter stayed silent for a moment, aware of Luz peeking at him with guilt across her features. He didn’t meet it, he knew he’d get more riled up if he did.

“Yeah, so,” Hunter said calmly, clasping his hands together. “That’s not happening.”

“Excuse me?” Her mother reeled back a bit.

“Listen, Miss...what are your last names again?” He asked Luz, though he still didn’t let himself fully look at her.

“Noceda,” She said, sounding confused now.

“Ms. Noceda,” He continued. “I can speak from personal experience when I tell you that the Emperor and any experiments he had are far beyond gone,” He said, bitterness dripping from his words. “And I-- we have your daughter to thank for that.”

Her mother startled for a moment, opening her mouth to speak, but he plowed on.

“Half the things that made the Isles dangerous, including the very reason your daughter was late coming home, are either burnt to a crisp or in the ground.” He said, holding her gaze. “And I can tell you this, with one hundred percent sincerity, that if I go back and tell Luz’s friends that she won’t ever be coming back, you’ll have witches and demons in numbers nearing the thirties knocking on your front door.”

“Is that a threat?” The woman managed to get out first.

“With all due respect, Ms. Noceda, it’s a promise.”

“Thank you, Hunter.” Luz was suddenly at his side, seizing his arm in a grip that felt like he was losing circulation. “That’s enough,” She said, giving him a warning look. “I think she gets the message.”

“Luz, what in the world is he talking about?” Her mother asked, eyes back to her child.

“It-it’s a long story, but he’s right about the Emperor!” Luz added quickly. “He’s...he’s gone, and-and I don’t think he’s coming back.”

“He won’t.” Hunter said, and left it at that.

“Luz, cariño, I’m sure we could work something out with your friends.” Her mother assured. “I’m glad a man like Vee had described is gone, but I’m sure they would understand.”

“That her mom won’t let her come back?” Hunter scoffed, and Luz tugged forcefully on his arm.

“Hunter,” She hissed, and he looked at her then, and saw the fear practically radiating off her. He wondered if it was something she’d picked up from Amity or vice versa, to be brimming with emotions, but leaving them largely unnoticed until someone actually focused.

“Look, I…” Luz hesitated for a moment. “I promised that I’d stay with her…” She mumbled, and the last piece clicked in his mind.

Luz had promised she’d stay, to a likely terrified mother, and Luz was never one to skimp out on promises. She either kept them or agonized over trying. And it’d make sense why she wouldn’t want to tell anyone, she promised she’d leave forever, and no plans or compromises from the residents of the Owl House could sate a mother worried for her daughter.

Also made sense why she wanted him to leave. Her mom did not seem to like the place, and him being there had to be somewhat breaking the little ‘promise’ of interacting with someone from the demon realm at all.

“Oh,” He said, instead of all that, ears pricking slightly.

“I’m sorry to have it all sprung on you without warning,” He heard her mother saying, though he wasn’t looking at her much in that moment, but she sounded genuine. “But the demon realm doesn’t necessarily seem to be...the safest of places.”

“It’s not,” Hunter confirmed, slowly straightening to face the woman again. “But hey,” He shrugged, feeling Luz letting up her grip on his arm. “It’s home.”

Her eyes dropped to his scar again, just for a moment, and he didn’t bother to hide his eye roll this time.

“Trust me, I’m an outlier in how deadly the place actually is.” He muttered. “These,” He gestured broadly to his face, not quite feeling the satisfaction he assumed he’d feel when he saw her wince. “Were caused by something outside the Boiling Isles, something that never should have been there in the first place. He’s gone now.” He rumbled a growl. “We made sure of it.”

She looked apologetic, and he’d give her that. But she shook her head with a sigh all the same.

“I’m sorry, truly, but Luz and I agreed, it’s not safe. I’m glad she could make friends there, I really am,” She said, and he wondered what kind of friends Luz had had in the past, because she said the word ‘friends’ like it could have five different meanings. “But it’s not safe for her.”

“And?” Hunter threw a hand out in a broad gesture. “It was never completely safe, no place is. You gonna look me in the eyes and tell me Luz would never sneak back out? I’m giving her another week at best.”

“Hunter!”

“Look, I’m really just trying to wrap this whole complication up,” Hunter sighed unsympathetically, aware of Rascal chirping and head-butting his arm. “Unfortunately, I know you, and I know you’d rather wallow in a chasm for eternity than never go back to the Isles. And as entertaining as watching a whole drama unfold would be when your mom would eventually find out, I really don't want to deal with that headache.” He grumbled.

Luz looked to her mother then, and her mother looked back. Luz’s hand was still clutched in his sleeve, watching her mother worriedly as she met her confused gaze.

“Luz?” Her mother said slowly, and Luz fiddled with Hunter’s sleeve.

“Mami, I...look, I didn’t...my friends, they...I don’t…”

“Hi, sorry, can-can I butt-in?”

The three whirled around, Hunter automatically putting an arm in front of Luz and taking a step back at the sight.

A basilisk lay in the doorway to the kitchen, tail curled somewhere out of sight. It was a young one, about the size of Luz. That’d work, he’d taken on bigger before, not like he had any magic for a basilisk to steal--

“Vee,” Luz’s mother breathed. “What are you doing up?”

And of course she was someone they knew. Amazing, wonderful, he loved being out of the loop that there was a basilisk casually within the house, that wasn’t unnerving at all.

“You guys aren’t very quiet,” The basilisk--Vee--shrugged as she slithered in, and Hunter took another step back, his arm in front of Luz causing her to be pushed back as well. “Hey there, uh, new guy.” She offered a small, shy wave to Hunter, and he eyed her before hesitantly returning it.

“Vee, I think you should go back to bed, we were discussing--”

“I know, I heard.” Vee brushed off Luz’s mom. “I actually have an idea for, y’know, this predicament. No offence, but I can't really sleep with you guys arguing.” She said, the wringing of her clawed hands the only sign she was nervous, stopping only when she was between them, with Luz and Hunter on one side, Ms. Noceda on the other.

“Should I be worried about this?” Hunter whispered to Luz.

“Nah, she’s cool.” Luz whispered back.

“What if, and hear me out...we all sleep on this,” Vee said, palms pressed together. “We think it over during the night, and when it's actually light out, we talk about Luz wanting to go back to the Isles and the rules that would have to be put in place. And also nobody breaks in.” She tacked on quickly.

“So you do want to go back?” Luz’s mother turned to her, and he saw the hurt and shock in her eyes.

“I…” Luz looked like she had a ‘no,’ at the back of her throat, and he truly did believe she would’ve said all her mom wanted to say. But he nudged her side, and she looked up at him, and clearly he was doing something with his face, because the empty assurances died out.

“Y-yeah, I do.” She mumbled, looking back to her mom. “I...really, really want to see them again, back in their realm.”

And he avoided looking at Ms. Noceda’s face, because the shock and pain increased significantly.

“Well, I, for one,” He said, ducking around Luz. “Agree with the lizard's plan. Sleep on it, talk in the morning with Ms. Noceda, yadda yadda, all that fun stuff.”

“Camila is fine,” The woman murmured, sounding a little dazed.

“Lizard?” Vee hissed, tongue flickering out as she narrowed her eyes on him.

“Right, sorry, snake fits better.” Hunter said before he could stop himself.

“You have permission to beat him up.” Luz said casually, ignoring Hunter’s indignant shout of “traitor!”

“I, yes, yes,” Luz’s mother--Camila--sighed, stepping back and bracing herself against the kitchen counter. “Tonight has been...a hectic one. It’s far too late to be talking about things like this.”

“Does this mean I can go?” Hunter asked, pointing with his thumb behind him. “Preferably without alerting everyone that I snuck out?”

“I don’t know how you got past Hooty,” Luz sighed, tilting her head and beginning to walk towards the front door with a quick, affirming glance with her mother that both had barely managed to make, Hunter immediately following.

“I escaped through your window.” Hunter said simply, and he noted Camila looking up slightly at that, until Vee approached her, murmuring in soft words he knew better than to try and eavesdrop on.

“Of course you did,” Luz grumbled, opening the front door and practically shoving Hunter outside.

“Alright, alright, I get it, I’m leaving--”

Luz stepped out onto the front porch with him, leaving the front door open just a crack, enough so that she could be seen through it, and in turn could see Camila and Vee talking back by the kitchen.

“Am I going to get a personal lecture?” Hunter asked cautiously, crossing his arms as his ears flicked down. “Look, in my defense, you didn’t exactly explain a lot of things to me--”

Luz lunged, and he stepped back and raised his hands defensively. Instead of a mean left hook he was expecting, he got arms wrapped around his sides, squeezing the air out of him.

Hunter wheezed, and would’ve doubled over if Luz wasn’t in the way. She didn’t let up on her hug, and after a moment of trying to get his thoughts in order, he slowly drew his arms around Luz, chin tucked against her head pressed into his chest.

“I’m glad you're okay,” Luz muffled into his shirt, and Hunter may have clung on a little tighter, aware of Rascal watching this all from his shoulder.

“Feel like you said this already.” He managed to get out.

“I know, I just wanted you to know I meant it.”

And if Hunter tilted his head down to press his face into Luz’s hair then, she didn’t say anything.

“Good to see you still kickin’, too.” He mumbled.

“Miss me?” Luz teased, throwing his words back at him as she pulled her head back slightly, and Hunter quickly did the same to look down at her.

“Hardly,” He huffed, clearing his throat to hide how it cracked halfway through. “I just didn’t want everyone leaving me out of all the fun.”

“Uh huh,” Luz raised a brow. “So you just happened to drop by to make sure I was alright on the one night you actually managed to escape the Owl House without being caught?”

“...listen--”

Luz laughed, and Hunter sputtered over his words. He growled and pushed her back and off him, knowing his face was flushing as he turned away and crossed his arms. Luz’s laughter didn’t stop at that, and Rascal sounded like he was laughing, too.

His ears drooped down and he half-heartedly bared teeth, in what may have been an attempt to hide a smile.

“You’re such a massive pain, you know that?” He growled.

“I do,” Luz grinned, laughter calming down to giggles. “I learned from the best.”

“That, you did. That Owl Lady couldn’t be more overbearing if she tried.” Hunter muttered.

“She’s got a bit of an empty nest syndrome, you get used to it.” Luz lightly nudged his shoulder. “It’s her way of welcoming you to the family.”

And he didn’t even have the time to process that whole sentence, because Rascal was fluttering onto Luz’s shoulder, cheeping as Luz raised a hand to scratch at his head.

“Make sure they know not to worry too much, okay?” She continued, looking up at him. “I’ll try and sort this out.”

“Does that mean you’re coming back soon?” Hunter paused, tilting his head. And maybe there was a tone of hopefulness in his tone, maybe.

Luz hesitated for a moment, frowning slightly in thought. She looked back towards the front door, though he couldn’t see if Camila or Vee were anywhere near it, what with the angle being off and Luz blocking most of it. He wondered if they could hear their conversation.

“I think so,” She said, quieter this time as she turned back to him with a small smile. “I... hope so.”

“So do I, they’ll be insufferable without you.” Hunter teased. “Have fun thinking up how to explain to them your apparent promise.”

“Don’t remind me,” Luz groaned, throwing her head back. “Look, it was a panicked situation, and I didn’t want her any more scared than she--”

“Save it,” Hunter said, not unkindly, raising a hand to silence her. “I’ve made worse spur-of-the-moment decisions. Contrary to popular belief, I know you well enough that you’d never stay away for long. You have a habit of being a people-pleaser.”

Luz relaxed, and raised her hand to let Rascal hop onto it. She offered him back to Hunter, and he took the bird into his hands.

“Still, I’m sorry.” She said, wringing her hands together. “For all of this.”

“If all goes well, you’ll get to tell them that yourself.” He said, and attempted a smile.

“Hopefully,” Luz said, glancing back towards the door. “So, that means you’re willing to tell them what happened?” She asked, a pleading note to her voice.

“As in, I tell them that I broke out of the Owl House in the middle of the night, escaped to the human realm, found you when I knew they were going to do the same thing, and then came back to the demon realm without you, just to tell them you’ll probably be back soon, but I don’t know when?” Hunter said, ears lowering more and more as he spoke, raising a brow.

“...yes?” Luz tried, hands clasped behind her back as she looked up at him with wide, puppy-dog eyes.

“...I don’t know why I put up with you.” Hunter groaned, relenting as his shoulders slumped, letting Rascal fly up onto his shoulder.

“Because you care about me,” Luz teased in a singsong tone, her relief immediate.

“Unfortunately,” He muttered unthinkingly, before the words processed in his head. He tensed right after, eyes locked on the wall behind Luz.

She looked surprised for about half a second before she practically lit up, beaming excitedly at him.

“Anyway,” He said quickly, voice higher than normal, knowing he was flushed up to his ears. “I should be off before your mom gets even more pissed at me.” He said, sharply turning on his heel.

Rascal was most definitely laughing at him now, and he pulled up his hood before shoving the bird into it, silencing him. He leapt down the stairs leading up to the porch, instead of walking down them like a normal person.

“Well, in her defense, you did break in.” Luz reminded, though there was a certain giddiness to her tone as she watched him leave.

“Like you haven’t done it!” Hunter scoffed behind him, beginning to hurry back towards the forest, head ducked low.

“Yes, but we don’t need to tell her that!” Luz hissed, voice notably quieter as she fearfully glanced back.

“No promises!” He called back, a grin forming as he picked up the pace. “Call it compensation for throwing me to the wolves!”

“Wh--Hunter!” Luz squawked indignantly.

He turned on his heel for just a moment, giving Luz a mocking salute before ducking between the trees of the forest, cackling as Luz’s calls of “don’t you dare!” faded behind him.

“Alright, Rascal, prepare yourself.” He said, hearing his palisman chitter from within his hood, with a hint of annoyance to it. “We’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

155 notes · View notes

thenightgazer · 4 years ago

Text

Spark of Stardust

Chapter 1 : An Interstellar Quest It's not a date. Vergil insists upon it, even when he doubts himself as he asks Lyra to accompany him to search for a perfect birthday gift for Kyrie. But just like the dying star that sparks its undying stardust; the "date" is just a start for him to get to know more about Lyra, as the librarian reveals her "little, deepest and darkest secrets"

Warning : implied psychological and drug abuse

Part 6 of Tales of Apotelesma

You can also read this fic on AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

~~~

It starts with a soft hand that brushes his face. The fuzzy sensation wakes him up. The lamp on the ceiling is the first thing he sees when he slowly opens his eyes wide awake. His eyes linger to his surroundings— and that shocks him because he’s no longer in his bedroom at Devil May Cry. He’s awakened in someone else’s bedroom. The wall is painted with warm colours and there is a large bookshelf besides the bed. When he turns his head to his left, he spots toys and trinkets which supposedly belong to a little girl, and there sits a young woman who smiles at him.

Where am I?

“How was your sleep?” she asks him. Her soft hand ruffles his hair gently. “You look so peaceful.”

He’s speechless. Not because he doesn’t want to answer, but his mouth won’t cooperate with his head. His survival instincts scream at him to get away from this situation, but all he could feel is numbness.

“I brought you dinner,” the beautiful woman continues. He observes her cautiously; she is approximately in her thirties, with long brunette hair and brown eyes. She looks like the kind of woman who looks absolutely harmless. The way her body moves is delicate. Her voice sounds appealing as she tells him the menu and hopes he will like it. She gives him the same warm impression as his own mother, but this woman seems shady. Her eyes remind him of someone... but he couldn’t remember the person. The same cold, void eyes...

“The nurse said you haven’t eaten since last night. You refused to take your medicines. Why? Don’t you want to get better?” Her voice turns colder. “When I heard that you refused to eat, I couldn’t concentrate on my work. I’m afraid you won’t get better. Now you will eat and take your medicine for me, okay?”

He can’t follow everything she has said just now. Who is this woman? What medicines? What nurse? But his head nods automatically as if his body is controlled by someone else, and that little gesture makes this woman’s warm smile appear on her pretty face again.

“Good. Let’s eat! After that, I’ll read you something exciting. How’s that sound?”

He nods obediently, opening his mouth to eat the porridge. He can’t feel the taste, nor can he sense the texture of the food. But the woman looks at him as if she would blast if he didn’t eat. The sound of friction between the spoon and the bowl drives him crazy. She’s making sure that he swallows the food as she cleans up his mouth. After the bowl is empty, she proceeds to pour something from a bottle—medicine— on a small spoon and look up at him, opening her mouth as a command for him to mimic her gesture. She seems delighted when he swallows the medicine.

“Atta girl.”

What is this nonsense? What is that thing she put inside me?

But he knows he won’t get the answer.

It’s all just a dream, right?

The woman walks to the bookshelf. Her fingers run through the book until she finds the one she desires. She sits back besides him again and opens the book, her fingers scan through the pages.

“You don’t like Cinderella, so I picked up this one,” she shows him the cover of the book. “I guarantee you’ll like it! It’s called The Hobbit, an adventure story. Your favourite, right?”

I do like adventure stories. But it isn’t my favourite. It’s Dante’s…

She starts her storytelling in a clear voice. “In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit...”

There’s something in her face when she reads. She seems more relaxed and softer than before, as if she got lost in the story. His suspicion is surprisingly gone while he listens to her and the familiarity strikes him again. She reminds him of his own mother when he was a child, reading him bedtime stories. Cambions in their early childhood needed a lot of sleep just like human children, but Dante and he always refused to sleep early and asked for more stories. There’s something peaceful about this familiarity. It calms him, then he decides to close his eyes again whilst the woman’s voice slowly fades away.

---

The dream shatters as Vergil’s cell phone rings loudly.

The hybrid lays still on his bed. He was sleeping for two hours just because he had no other options left to do aside from sleeping. Yet, even though his body doesn’t particularly need to sleep, he hates it when his slumber is interrupted. His hand reaches to find his phone and immediately pick it when he finds it on the desk beside his bed without seeing who’s calling him because he doesn’t bother to open his sleepy eyes.

“Dad?”

That familiar voice forces Vergil to open his eyes.

“Nero?”

“Yeah. You busy?”

“No,” Vergil throws a blanket from his naked chest as he moves his body to sit and brushes his hair. “What’s wrong, Nero?”

Nero doesn’t reply immediately. Vergil can hear a heavy sigh from his son and that makes him a bit anxious.

“Nothing wrong. Just...” The young devil hunter lets out another sigh. “Today is Kyrie’s birthday. She invites you and the crews for dinner at six. Uh… six as in Fortuna time, which is an hour later from Red Grave time. Just in case you got lost in time again.”

“Of course. We will be attending the dinner. Thank you for the invitation.”

“It’s Kyrie who invites you, not me.”

“...”

“... but having you around here is not so bad. The kids were always whining whenever you and Dante left the house.” Nero’s response is almost excited and eager, much to Vergil’s relief.

The picture of Julio, Carlo and Kyle somehow makes Vergil grins. “You did very well taking care of those little rascals.”

“Thanks,” there’s a pause before Nero continues. “Anyway, I should get going. Nico needs my help to do some crazy shit.”

“I hope all is well for you.”

“You too, I guess...” the young man clears his throat. “And... thank you. For accepting the invitation.”

“It’s the least I could do,” The blue devil smiles, his anxiety is gone as their interaction goes smoothly. “Carry on, son.”

“Y-yeah— bye, then.”

Warmth fills Vergil’s heart as he cleans up his bed and folds the blanket neatly. Never in his life would he have thought that he’d become a father. Even though it was unplanned, having a son does change his life. He has no parental figures to ask advice from and those parenting books are not helping at all, but he learns at his own pace. Two years of effort of atonement is nothing compared to his sins, yet he wants the very best for Nero and is very protective to him.

Then the word stings him.

Birthday, huh?

Ever since he was a little boy, Vergil has never understood the concept of celebrating birthdays. For him, birthday is just another day to pass. If anything, it seems like people love to celebrate the day when their life spans decrease. People are getting old, so what? Why do we celebrate that irony? Is that because of the presents and cake? Little Vergil never found the answer, but he did feel happy whenever he received presents and ate his birthday cake, even if that means he had to share it with his twin, Dante (he had given up the dream of having his own cake, since being twins means sharing almost everything). He didn’t even think about birthdays until Nero reminded him.

I wonder if he knows his birthday...

Vergil walks to the bathroom and washes his face. He looks at the mirror and the man guy in the mirror stares back at him. His reflection somehow reminds him of the strange dream. What was that dream about? It seems visceral, like it was my own memory. His heartbeat gets faster when he has a dreadful negative thought that it could be Mundus’ mind manipulation. If that was Mundus, it’s too pointless. He’d use my own memories to torture me, not with some kind of irrelevant vision.

“Mornin’,” Dante shoves himself besides Vergil and yawns. “I’m hungry.”

“Pleased to meet you, Hungry.”

Dante bursts into laughter. “Since when are you into dad jokes?”

“I’ll take the shower first.” Ignoring Dante’s question, Vergil picks up a dry towel and gets inside the shower cubicle.

Dante takes off his shirt and stretches his muscles. He washes his face and begins to shave his beard. “You said you fought Angelo demons at last week’s gig, right? Heard from Lady the same Angelo demons got sighted at another city. We still don’t have any information on who created and summoned them.”

Vergil wipes the droplets of water from his face. “It seems like those Angelo demons were none like all the artificial demons we have ever seen before. Their form, their abilities, their durability. They looked rather... futuristic, I'd say. I got an impression that the new Angelo was created mostly by advanced science rather than magic.”

“Another thing happened these past weeks. There are three outbursts at restricted medical facilities in different cities.”

“What medical facility?”

“Trish said that the three of them were research laboratories owned by Ravenhill Corporation.”

“Isn’t that the same corporation that won a peace award or something like that?”

“Yeah. The Ravenhills are an influential aristocrat with power over the health and security industry. Most of the health facilities in this world are sponsored and if not, owned by Ravenhill Corporation. They have a branch company here in this city too.”

“And do you think those incidents have a connection with the appearance of Angelo demons?”

“Just a gut feeling, but that’s worth investigating, better safe than sorry, aight?” Dante brushes his hair and flips it back like Vergil. “Hey, I look just like you with this hairstyle! Perhaps I should go with this style from now on.”

“If you’re done talking, get out of the bathroom.”

“This is MY bathroom!”

“And I’m the one who cleans up the mess you’ve created in this house, Dante.”

“Fine~!” Dante chuckles as he cleans up the remaining shaving foam from his jaw. “Have you bought something for Kyrie’s birthday? Got missed calls and a text about the dinner party from Nero.”

“Not yet.”

“I’ve been thinking of giving her a fancy revolver. Heard from Nero that she’s quite good at using guns.”

“... do you really think that women fancy weapons as a gift?”

“Trish and Lady do. But hey! You can go ask our clever librarian!” Dante's face lightens up in exhilaration.

Vergil turns off the shower and wraps a towel around his waist as he opens the cubicle. “What do you mean by ’our’?!”

“Yours, then. She’s a normal civilian woman. Perhaps she can recommend you a perfect gift for Kyrie.”

No, if only you know that she’s not normal! “... you’re probably right.”

A teasing whistle comes from Dante as he takes off his pants and walks inside the cubicle. “As Yoda said, Verge, ‘ do or do not. There is no try ’. Call her and ask her out for a date.”

“I’m not taking any advice from a man who has rotten luck with women. And who is Yoda?”

“Call it what you want it. If you’re not asking her out, I’ll go ask her by myself.”

“Not before I step over your dead body.”

“Ha! Someone’s jealous for realsies~”

Vergil walks away from the bathroom before his inner turmoil tempts him to try to kill Dante… again. His insolent brother might have been teasing him too much, but in a way he’s right. He needs to find someone trusted enough to help him buy the perfect gift for Kyrie.

But she’s on duty today is her work day. I won’t make it right on time to the party if I have to wait for her shift to end.

He’s still thinking about it when he enters his room on the second floor and grabs his phone. Lyra’s contact name is showing up, but he hesitates. It’s still 9 o’clock. The library must have just opened.

After having a quite long internal battle with himself, he decides to call her anyway.

It takes a little bit long for Lyra to finally pick up her phone. Vergil catches the sound of her voice and a man’s laugh who Vergil assumes is Nate. “Bugger off for a minute, will you? — Clayton here.”

“Lyra.”

“Oh, hello Vergil!”

“Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all! Is there anything I can help you with?”

“... yes.”

“Are you okay? You sound like you want to cry.”

“I am certainly not,” Vergil groans at Lyra’s giggle. “Yet, I do believe I need your help.”

“Name it!”

“... it’s about a birthday present.” Vergil clears his throat. “Do you remember Kyrie, my son’s fiancée? She will be celebrating her birthday this evening. She invited Dante and I to her house for dinner.”

“I see.”

“Kyrie has always been there for Nero,” he continues. “She helped guide him to become the person he is now. She took care of him while I wasn’t there for him. She’s an important person to my son. That’s why... at least I have to show her some respect.”

“By giving her a decent birthday present.”

“Yes.”

“I think she will appreciate everything you give to her.”

“She will, certainly. She’s too polite to reject a present, but I don’t want her to think that I’m a careless father-in-law by giving her a gratuitous gift.”

“You’re right. I’d be delighted to accompany you to buy the present, but…I’m on duty right now. I’m afraid I couldn't help you any further.”

“That I know. That’s why I call for your advice.”

“I suggest something small, but meaningful. You told me she love to sing, right? Maybe a vinyl of classical music would — what in the bloody—! Nate! Give me back my phone at once!”

Vergil hears them grumbling and arguing at something. He considers to just hang up the phone given to his hunch that Lyra and Nate are probably having a fight right now, but suddenly he hears Nate’s voice as the young librarian speaks to him.

“Mr. Vergil? It’s Nate!”

This scoundrel's audacity...! “I recognize your voice, Nathaniel. What are you doing with Lyra’s phone?”

“Err... sorry for the interruption, but Lyra forced me to tell you this myself, or else you won’t believe her! I told her that I don’t mind if she wants to go on a date with you! My father won’t be checking on the library today!” Nate lets out a dry chuckle to break the ice, but since Vergil says nothing, Nate continues to speak. “She insisted on at least working today, so I told her to finish the duty earlier so she could spend her time with you. That’s all! Oh yeah, a little advice here; Lyra has a terrible sense of direction, means that you should hold her close— ouch!”

A sound of a book slapped on Nate’s head comes to Vergil’s ear. The next is Lyra’s nervous voice talking to him. “Vergil? You heard Nate. So... we meet at three. How’s that sound?”

“I’ll pick you up at the library.”

“Okay!”

“Then... I’ll see you around.”

“Cheerio!”

Vergil hangs up the phone, unexpectedly feeling the queasiness after he recalls the word ‘date’ as Dante and Nate said earlier. Foolish. We are not dating. We are just going to buy a birthday present. That’s all. Stop this unnecessary disquietude. It’s just Lyra—

“Tell me you’re not gonna go on a date with your boring clothes!”

Vergil hardly glances to his side and sees Patty’s figure standing by his door. The twenty years old girl is wearing an apron and holding a broom in her hand. “At least wear something stylish! You and Dante are all hopeless! No wonder the two of you haven’t gotten married yet!”

“I believe that’s none of your concern, Miss Lowell. And although I lack what humans would consider common sense, the last time I know about human norms and etiquette, that it is rude to trespass on someone's private space and eavesdrop on other people’s conversation.”

“I’m not eavesdropping! I just happened to pass this room while cleaning this house because lately you are not present in this house and Dante is being a lazy bastard as usual! Show some gratitude!”

“Thank you for your help. But as you can see now, I am here and that means I will do the household job while you can go disturb Dante’s peace now.”

“Hey! I heard that!” Dante shouts from the first floor.

“Anyways, let me help you to choose better clothes for you!” Patty insists. “I don’t know who this girl is because Dante won’t tell me, but she seems special to you. You need to dress at your best! Impressing a girl on their first date is a must!”

“I’ll forgive your impudent attitude this time if you kindly close the door, Miss Lowell. I need to put some clothes on.”

Realizing that Vergil wears nothing but a towel wrapped on his waist, Patty flusters as she looks away and grabs the door knob violently. “Fine!”

The blue devil chuckles softly when he hears Patty goes downstairs and screams at Dante for whatever antics that he does right now. He searches through his wardrobe, pondering if Patty was right. And maybe she is. He’s about to blend into society, that means he needs to look less suspicious. He should wear something casual and humane.

Humans and their fashion. Even demons are much simpler.

He picks some clothes with a hope that he won’t look too ridiculous.

---

“Do you think he’s the type of person who brings flowers for a date?” Nate throws paper planes at Lyra’s direction, which she blocks it all with a book.

“Why do you insist that this is a date? We are friends. Friends go hang out sometimes.” Lyra says.

“Dammit, Lyre! You are older than me but I can’t believe you’re so clueless about this. Even idiots could tell that he likes you!”

Lyra groans desperately. “That’s it. That’s the problem of modern society. People nowadays confuse politeness with flirting!”

“Sometimes both work simultaneously! And that’s the case of Mr. Vergil. Sure, he’s polite to everyone even though he always looks like he wanted to kill someone. But he’s different with you; he’s not just polite, but kind. That’s two different things!”

Lyra half-heartedly listens to Nate’s babble; despite she already knows what is inside Nate’s mind. She knows what he means about Vergil being kind only to her, and Nate’s mind interprets how soft Vergil is whenever he’s around her. The thought of those forms of romanticism confuses her. Being a telepath, she has seen and listened into people’s minds for almost her entire life. She’s no stranger to the concept of love according to universal belief, yet she still doubts its existence.

Sometimes, what people think about something isn’t always synchronized with how they feel about it.

And speaking of which, I haven’t heard Nate’s thoughts since fifteen seconds ago...

“He’s here!” Nate declares as he looks up at the window near the front door. “Wait, uh... is it really him?”

“What?”

“He looks... different.” Nate mumbles. “And he didn’t bring flowers. Guess he’s not the flower type of guy.”

“On the contrary, he is.” Lyra takes a brief look at her appearance in the mirror and puts on eyeglasses before giving a wink at Nate. “See you tomorrow!”

“Now who’s excited about the date!?”

She giggles throughout her journey to the front door, only to be surprised when she opens the door and finds Vergil standing in front of her and about to open the door too. But today he looks stunningly different; he is wearing as black shirt beneath a navy-blue casual coat. His dark trousers make him look taller than usual. He changes his footwear into a pair of black chukka boots. Even with his usual warrior clothes, Vergil Sparda is already breathtakingly handsome. His casual look just enhances his majestic stature.

Lyra has never really given any attention to fashion, but now she can’t take her eyes off of him. “What’s with the sudden change in your sense of fashion?”

“You don’t like it?”

“I like it!” she blurts. “You look… so… normal”

“Is it just me or does it sound like an insult?”

“It’s a compliment!”

“... thank you, I suppose,” Vergil reluctantly scratches his nape. “Shall we go now?”

“Let’s!”

Lyra glares at Nate who’s giving her double thumbs up and loudly wishing her good luck before she closes the door.

“So,” the librarian walks side by side with Vergil. “Do you remember I mentioned that I purchased my devil arm at an antique shop?”

“Yes. What’s with that?”

“I think it’s a good place to start our quest. The shop sells antique weapons, jewelries, old books and trinkets. Perfect collection for Kyrie.”

“Very well. Where’s this shop located?”

“Nova Town.”

“It’s too far from here.”

“Lucky for us, you have Yamato.”

“I’m beginning to think that you see me as a mere means tool of transportation.”

“Maybe,” she winks playfully. “But you are too decent to be a mere tool, my dearest friend.”

The hybrid rolls his eyes, “Let’s find an empty alley first.”

---

“That was the first time I saw Lyra smiling like that,” Nate mutters at himself as he taps something on his cell phone. “Good for her! Ever since I saw their chemistry on the murder in the library weeks ago, I know they’re going to form a relationship soon!”

The twenty four years old librarian giggles at his own fantasy while drowning himself further into a mobile game he always plays whenever he has free time. He almost startled himself when the bell rings and a customer comes in. Nate abruptly pauses the game and greets the guest. “Welcome to The Literarium!”

The guest — a tall and ginger-haired man — returns Nate’s greeting with a nod. A suspicion arises in Nate’s head as he observes the man’s eyes that are covered with sunglasses. Why the hell does he wear sunglasses indoors? He continues to follow the man’s movement, which is also suspicious. The man seems detached from reality as he stares at one of the shelves quite long without really doing anything, not even touching the books. He walks slowly to another section, again without any interest in the books. The man seems eager to look for something as he repeatedly tilts his head to look outside the window, but Nate is certain that he’s not here for books. Then why bother coming here if he’s not interested in books? Nate clicks his pen anxiously. Paranoia begins to consume him. What if he wants to rob this place?!

The ginger-haired man approaches the sale section and finally picks a book. He looks at the cover briefly before heading to the counter. Nate fakes a polite smile when he scans the book— Lord of the Flies by William Golding— and forces himself to make a small talk. “Fine day, isn’t it?”

The man nods while giving Nate his money. “I agree.”

“You like allegorical one, huh?”

The man furrows his brow. “Sorry?”

Nate lifts the copy of Lord of the Flies . “You don’t know that Golding wrote one of the best allegorical novels all the time?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know. I only recognized it as one of the bestseller books,” the man chuckles. His laughter surprisingly sounds very friendly. “I picked it because the synopsis reminds me of the past.”

“Jesus, what a chaotic past you must have back then.” Nate gives him the book and his change.

“Quiet so,” the man flips the page, but Nate can sense he’s focusing on another thing. “By the way, the woman who wears eyeglasses… She came out from this place with a man about five minutes ago. Does she work here?”

Shit, another Lyra’s admirer. That explains my suspicion! “Yeah. You know her?”

“She looks like a person I used to know. Quite different, but I spot some similarities.”

“Maybe they are the same person?”

“The same person?” the man chuckles again as he closes the book. “That’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“She died years ago.”

“Oh, man… I’m so sorry...”

“It’s fine. She wasn’t related to me, just a person I knew. At first glance, your friend looks eerily similar to her,” the man’s face abruptly turns into doubt and anxious. Nate swears he can see his hands tremble. “I was terribly surprised when I saw your friend out there. I thought the woman I knew was alive again. What is the name? Your lady friend, I mean.”

“Louisa.” Nate lightly says his lie as soon as he’s aware of the man’s intention. I’m not doing anything wrong. Lyra told me to fake a name in case some flirty bastards ask me her name.

“Louisa, then. Pretty name,” the man seems pleased at Nate’s answer. “Thank you. Lovely library, anyway. Good day for you.”

“Thank you. Happy reading and have a good day!”

He’s different from any of Lyra’s secret admirers, Nate feels uneasy about the man’s strange attitude even though the man has already taken his leave. He makes a mental note to contact Lyra soon after he closes the library. “That guy looks like he’s about to plan something fishy. But I can’t disturb Lyra and Mr. Vergil right now.”

Nate grabs his cell phone and restarts the game with a hope that nothing bad would happen.

---

She’s strangely quiet today.

Ever since they arrived at Nova Town, Vergil catches something unusual from Lyra. She guides the way to the antique shop without talking to him but carefully watches her surroundings. But at the same time, she seems to lose her focus and sometimes stares blankly at something. They have been walking for almost 30 minutes and they haven’t arrived at the antique shop yet. Also, that’s not the only thing from her that is unusual... “You wear eyeglasses.”

“Huh?” Lyra automatically touches her eyeglasses. “Why? You don’t like a girl with eyeglasses?”

“I don’t dislike it.”

“You have a funny way to compliment others, don’t you?”

“I have never seen you wearing eyeglasses before. I thought I was looking at a completely different person when you opened the door earlier.”

“I always wear eyeglasses whenever I’m out to shop, just for aesthetic purposes. I’ll take it off if that makes you uncomfortable—”

“Please don’t. You look lovely with that.”

“Thanks!”

“You’re welcome. Are we getting closer to the shop?”

“… I think so?”

Vergil stops abruptly, “Tell me we are not lost.”

“W-we’re not!” she stutters in panic. “I’m just having a little confusion here, because this town looks different from the last time I came here. It has only been two years and the town is already changing...”

“Are you even certain that we are in the right town?”

“One hundred percent certain!”

“Then tell me,” Vergil curves a devilish grin. “Is Nathaniel right? That you have a terrible sense of direction?”

A light blush blooms on Lyra’s face. “Uh... yeah— but we are in the right town! For real! Just because I have a terrible sense of direction, doesn’t mean I’m an idiot!”

“Yet we are lost, aren’t we?”

“We are not! See that monument over there? It’s the town’s icon. We just have to turn left to that road and the antique shop should be on the right corner.”

Vergil watches the monument that Lyra mentioned before he glances at her again with doubtful looks. “Alright, then. But why don’t you use… what is it again... GPS?”

“Later. I’m practicing my sense of direction by practicing my telepathic ability.”

“Does your telepathic ability have something to do with your sense of direction?”

“Since the murder in the library, I’m practicing to read people’s mind whenever you’re around me because your magical defense blocks my telepathic ability. Normally, all I need to do is just focus on their minds and find out if some of them have knowledge of the place I’m about to go.”

“Why bother? You still can read minds by touching their body parts.”

“That’s impractical! Not everyone wants to be touched. Just imagine if I need to touch a person with haphephobia.”

“I thought you like it when you don’t have to read minds anymore.”

“Just in case of an emergency. Who knows if we would find any strange cases again, or if I’m stuck with Dante and there’s an urgent situation where I’m required to smuggle into someone’s head.”

“Hold on. Your telepathy doesn’t work on Dante too?”

“I guess the power of Sparda includes protection from telepaths.”

“I see. Now I understand,” Vergil scoffs. “The reason why you were awfully quiet since we stepped in this town is that you tried to practice your telepathic ability to find out the antique shop’s direction, so you won’t embarrass yourself in front of me because you have poor sense of direction and you think having to use GPS would make you look unreliable as a guide.”

Lyra hides her hands behind her back and stares at the ground, which to Vergil indicates that everything he said is true and that she’s embarrassed to admit it. To be very honest, he doesn’t think that Lyra does something wrong. He just wants to clarify things behind her unusual behavior, but it unconsciously sounds like he’s scolding her for her little secret.

“Just use the GPS if you need it. You have nothing to be ashamed of. That won’t make me think less of you.”

Lyra seems to hesitate at first, but eventually shrugs and takes her phone out from her bag. Vergil quietly smirks at her surrender.

“Fortunately, we’re on the right track!” She shows Vergil the map. “Thank you for your encouragement, Vergil. That’s the longest advice you ever said to me.”

He shrugs it off. “I guess that’s what friends are for.”

“Still, that means a lot to me.”

“Just forget it. Then how’s your practice going?”

“Still doing my best. The first time I tried to read someone’s mind without touching them whenever you were around me, it was all nothing. But now I can see blurry images and hear buzzing sound!” She smiles at him, her eyes beam as she points at the rustic shop at the corner of the street. “Look! We've arrived!”

When Vergil enters the antique shop, he expects the shopkeeper to greet them with unstoppable pestering offers like all the shopkeepers normally do. That’s why he hates shopping. Thankfully the shopkeeper is sleeping on the counter, like she doesn’t care if someone steals one of the items. The shop itself is quiet and the goods are all unique. The problem is, Vergil doesn’t know where to start searching. There are many items that Vergil puts a certain degree of interest in—necklaces, bracelets, clocks, paintings—but he doesn’t think that it would be useful or meaningful to Kyrie. He starts to think about Dante’s suggestion to give her a weapon for self-protection. It seems easier than this endless searching.

“Do you know the biggest dilemma when it comes to shopping? You expect to find a certain thing, but when you’re in the shop, suddenly you’re not sure what to buy anymore.” Lyra chuckles at Vergil’s confused expression.

“Evidently,” Vergil picks an antique revolver. “I think I want to give her a weapon.”

“Is Kyrie an excellent combatant?”

“She can take care of herself, though she still needs a lot of practice, but she won’t survive a second if she had to fight multiple opponents.”

“Mmmm... okay but... how about something for protection from the demons?”

“That will do. It’s way more practical and useful.”

“Alright. Let’s ask the shopkeeper.”

Vergil points his chin at the counter. “She’s sleeping.”

“I’ll wake her up.” Lyra fixates her focus on the shopkeeper until she slowly raises her head from the counter table and rubs her eyes.

Vergil almost couldn’t hide his amusement. She can wake someone up from slumber? How advanced is her ability actually?

The shopkeeper yawns loudly. “Welcome. How can I help y’all?”

“We’re looking for an item for protection from demons. Do you have anything suitable for that?” Lyra asks.

The shopkeeper looks straight to Lyra’s eyes, then to Vergil’s. She sighs as she walks to the weapon cabinet. “I don’t have much of that, but I have this one. Take a look.” she mumbles, handing Lyra a red music box. The music box looks captivating with a rose pattern carved on the box. When Lyra opens the music box, Vergil recognizes the box is playing Bach’s The Well-Tempered Clavier.

“Lovely, but I don’t see what’s so special about the music box,” Vergil mutters his doubt.

“Easy, dude. Push the button near the mirror to open the secret room behind it.”

Lyra does the exact instruction until the secret room is opened and reveals a golden bracelet inside.

“What’s that for?” Lyra asks.

“It will glow red whenever there's demons nearby,” the shopkeeper lights her cigarette and walks back to the counter. “When the bracelet glows, you press it and close your eyes, because it will cast a very blinding light. It’ll blind and burn demons and that’s the best time for you to run away.”

Lyra glances at Vergil, who’s examining the music box and the bracelet. She holds her giggle when she notices that the bracelet glows in red when Vergil holds it and abruptly puts it back to the secret room behind the mirror before the shopkeeper notices it.

“I guess the bracelet couldn’t distinguish demons and cambions,” she whispers to him.

“This should be fine,” Vergil forms a satisfied grin. “It has both protection advantage and aesthetical function. Perfect.”

“You take that?!” the shopkeeper shouts eagerly.

“Yes,” Vergil replies. “Is there a money-back guarantee in case the item doesn’t properly work?”

“This is an antique shop, dude. Some items might not working at all—”

“I believe I don’t have to repeat myself.” Vergil insists.

The shopkeeper gulps at Vergil’s unspeakable death threat within his icy eyes, knowing that there’s no use to argue with a man like Vergil. “Dammit, fine! Now can I get my money?”

Lyra howls with laughter, “Blimey, you are a terrifying customer.”

Vergil grins in pride as he heads to the counter.

---

The birthday party will begin in an hour, but Vergil chooses to spend the rest of the time with Lyra at the Sparda Manor. During the day time, they only meet in the library. That makes their little adventure today seem rare... and fun. Lyra buys them ice creams at the end of their journey in Nova Town. She can’t hold her laughter when she catches Vergil’s eyes sparking in childish interest as he holds his ice cream once the magic portal opens its way to the Manor.

“The shopkeeper was different from the one whom I met two years ago. He was nice and helpful,” Lyra murmurs, licking her bubblegum ice cream. “Guess he didn’t work there anymore. We get a sleepyhead instead.”

Vergil says nothing as he examines his blueberry ice cream cone. His memory of V eating cheeseburger hits him. “Why do humans think that creating something messy is a good idea?”

“It’s called innovation, Vergil.”

“Messy innovation.”

“As long as people like it, it is considered as a great innovation.”

He finally gives up and chomps his ice cream. “This is not bad.”

“Tell me this is not your first time eating ice cream.”

“I might be inexperienced in human lifestyle, but that doesn’t mean I never tasted ice cream.”

It’s strange, Vergil recalls the moment when they used to be strangers before Almagest helped them to get closer. Now they stand side by side and talk about stuff like old friends to the point where he could never get enough of her companionship. He lets her wander around his childhood house, even if he barely calls it a house now. He lets out a silent chuckle when she lifts a pile of rocks up to the air just to see what hides behind it, only to find another ruins and she’s slightly disappointed.

“For a second I thought your father was Johann Sebastian Bach.” Lyra looks up at Sparda’s family painting.

“You are not the first person who said that.”

She laughs. “Oh look at you… stoic since you were born. And I already got a picture on Dante being impatient while the painter kept asking him to stand still.”

“Pretty much correct. He complained how itchy his feet were at the end of the session.”

“Your mother was gorgeous,” Lyra admires Eva’s angelic stature. “No wonder Sparda fell for her.”

Vergil forms a wistful smile. “She was.”

“This painting reminds me of The Picture of Dorian Gray .”

“Pray tell, why?”

“Dorian sold his soul to the devil for eternal youth, and it decayed his self-portrait painting every time he did a sin. Of course your family portrait is a different case, but you see, your mother’s face is the only one that didn’t get burned by fire. It’s like a sign that she was the only human in the family…”

“And the rest of the family members were cursed by the evil blood that ran in their veins. That’s why the faces of the three of us were burned. That’s a picturesque perspective.”

“I didn’t say that demon is always evil—”

“I know. Still, it’s a good metaphor. Haven’t thought of it myself.”

“Why don’t you take the painting with you? People keep their family portrait in their house.”

“Dante and I agreed to leave it here as a sign that this mansion once belonged to our family. Besides, I can’t imagine such a painting to be hanged on the shop’s soiled wall. It would be a disgrace for the painting itself.”

“Now that you mentioned it, I think you are right.”

Lyra continues to lift some rocks and put it back carefully once she finds nothing interesting.. “Have you been in there again after you escaped the Underworld with Dante?”

“To collect mementos, yes. Though, as you can see, nothing much was left since Urizen destroyed the whole city. Not to mention almost all parts of the house were destroyed or blocked by pillars and huge stones. We tried to remove them, but it’d cause a domino effect throughout the manor and demolish it completely.” 

“How did it feel to visit your childhood home again?”

Vergil swallows his ice cream at once. He puts a handkerchief out from his coat and wipes his lips. “It felt mostly heartbreaking.”

“I see,” Lyra nods and gives Vergil a light pat on his shoulder. “Not everyone could even come back to the place where their trauma began. Not that it’s necessary. I just found it encouraging.”

“Speaking of memento, what was the most valuable present you had ever received?” Vergil curiously asks.

“Oh, we start to have a small talk now?”

“I thought we agreed to trust each other, don’t we? Then we should start from mundane things.”

“Alright. Make sense. Let me recall it… mmmm… oh right! A lyre!”

“You play lyre? Amazing.”

“I thought you were about to say ironic.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“You know, a lyre plays a lyre.”

Vergil smirks, recalling her remark on their previous little adventure, “You’re right. It’s ironically amazing.”

The librarian rolls her eyes as she bites the ice cream cone. “My mum bought me one for my fifth birthday. It only lasted for two months before I asked her to give me a harp for the next birthday.”

“Did she finally buy you a harp?”

“She didn’t.”

“Why?”

“She died before my next birthday.”

Vergil immediately stared at Lyra’s sullen eyes. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles at him, chewing the last part of her cone. “It was a long time ago.”

Lyra has so many things she hides behind her amicable demeanor, and Vergil should’ve feel relieved because after all these months, Lyra finally opens up a little bit about her family, yet he doesn’t feel it at all.

“Were you close with your mother?” Vergil’s tone is full of consideration.

Lyra taps her fingers on her chin. “I guess so. We only had each other.”

“… How did she… die?”

The librarian smirks at him. “If I told you she fell from the tree, would you believe me?”

“Only if that’s the truth.”

She goes silent for a while, seeming unwilling to continue her story. She opens an empty drawer, looking at nothingness for a while. “You might’ve heard about her.”

“Your mother?”

“Uh-uh,” Lyra nods calmly, but Vergil senses a slight hesitation. “Her name was Asteria Crescent.”

Impossible! “The award-winning astronomer?”

“Astrobiologist, yes.”

“I see. That explains your fondness of astronomy.”

The first time Vergil heard about Asteria Crescent was when he was eleven years old, still homeless and constantly moved out from place to place in search of power. Asteria’s groundbreaking research of modern astrobiology broke the news. Her discovery led the scientists to rethink human’s position in this world and question the exact location of the Underworld in the known universe, considering demons as an extraterrestrial creature with its own origin and evolution. Demons and magic are inseparable, but Asteria Crescent was brave to make a further step to explain demonology in a scientific approach. Science and magic are two sides of a coin , Vergil recalls her statements. Science just has yet to understand magic.

“Asteria was a Titan goddess of falling stars and nighttime divinations. That suited her very well,” Lyra chuckles bitterly, swinging her hand to lift a pile of ruins back to its place. “I once wondered why she didn’t name me Hecate, daughter of Asteria and goddess of witchcraft. Maybe at that time, she didn’t have a thought that someday I’ll develop this… psychic ability.”

“The media never reported anything regarding her cause of death. It happened all so sudden, they said.”

“They always spoke highly of her. But when she died, they turned the story into rumors and gossip.”

“So did she fall from the tree?”

“She did fall.”

“But not from the tree.”

Vergil’s demonic eyes catch Lyra’s body slightly flinching, but she maintains her calmness and fakes a smile. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you further about your private life.”

“You entrusted me your biggest secret. I intend to do so. I’m just… not ready to open up, but I know that I want to.”

“When I said that we should try to trust each other, I didn't mean that you should abruptly open yourself to me.”

“Too late. Now you know I’m the daughter of a dead astrobiologist.”

“Why did you change your surname then?”

Lyra stops and gazes at Vergil. She seems anxious while glancing at her surroundings carefully, as if she’s afraid that someone else would hear them. Vergil slightly bows his body when Lyra whispers in his ear.

“I’m being hunted.”

The furrow on Vergil’s brow is going deeper. “By whom?”

“Someone who wants to abuse my power. That’s why I need to change my surname and hang out around wearing eyeglasses, so people won’t find out about my identity.”

For a moment, they stand still there, staring at each other’s eyes to find some clues. It’s logical that Lyra’s unique ability would attract power-seekers, be it humans or demons. Vergil knows it too well; the danger of possessing a greater power. A part of him wants to believe her words…

If only he failed to spot a subtle grin on the corner of her lips.

I would be absolutely fooled by her deception, Vergil grunts discontentedly. "You are lying, aren’t you?”

Lyra’s laughter echoes throughout the lake.

Vergil snarls at her unstoppable giggle. "Quite a jester, I see.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

Vergil doesn’t bother to reply, because he knows it would lead to another bickering. He doesn’t try to hide his amused smile too, even though Lyra teases him about the ‘sly devil smile’. To be honest, he couldn’t care less. He just wants to see her smile, her true smile.

Like the way she’s smiling right now.

“Do you want to have a look at the lake?” Vergil offers, trying to lift the mood. “There’s nothing left to see here.”

“Sure!”

They sit on the cobblestone pier in the lake while admiring the twilight sky. It’s Vergil’s favorite place, ever since he was a child. This place has changed; there are no more Qliphoth roots left and there are several trees and wildflowers growing on the land. The lake no longer contains human blood. It’s mesmerizing how fast time flies and changes the entire city.

“I used to spend my days here, reading and playing with Dante,” Vergil says. “We loved being here more than staying indoors.”

“I can see the reason. It’s bloody beautiful here.” Lyra mutters her admiration. She taps her fingers on the cobblestone playfully, causing a small rift in the lake.

“Dante once pushed me to the lake because we fought over a chocolate bar,” Vergil recalls one of his precious memories. “I pretended to be drowned. He pulled me out of the water and cried, pleaded to me for not leaving him alone and that he’s sorry. Promised me that he won’t disturb me again. Right when he shook my body to wake me up, I pushed him to the lake but he managed to drag me with him.”

Lyra can’t hold her howls of laughter. She chortles until her stomach hurts and her throat gets sore. Vergil swears he never saw her laughing like this. “I’m sorry— I— HAHAHAHAHA!”

“Lower your voice,” Vergil grunts. He starts to regret his decision for rambling about his childhood antics just to get rid of Lyra’s gloomy face. “You might end up choking yourself to death.”

“ Pfffftttt!”

“Will you shut up?!”

“Sorry!” Lyra bites her thumb to hold her cackle but fails. “I just… bwahahaha! It seems that ‘never hold a grudge to the people who wronged you’ is true!”

Vergil pulls her thumb away from her teeth, caressing her reddened thumb. “A little deeper, you would bleed your thumb.”

The careful touch from Vergil distracts Lyra for a while. It’s the first time he holds her without gloves on, and it surprises her how soft his palm is despite the fact that he is a warrior who wields various weapons. Her thumb slips lightly from his palm. “Even if I bleed, I got your Lucy Pevensie’s cordial to heal me.”

Vergil sighs heavily as he removes some strands of Lyra’s hair from her forehead. “I gave it to you for an emergency case only. The cordial was made mostly from demon’s blood, mixed with rare herbs and some complicated spells to make it suitable for human’s bodies. Even the bottle was made from demon’s materials to prevent physical damage. Trish produced only a few bottles of cordial, so use it wisely.”

“I will,” Lyra picks out the cordial bottle from her bag and shows it to Vergil. “See? I haven’t used it since Capulet.”

“Put it back into your bag before it slipped from your hand and fell into the lake.”

“Alright alright! Why do you sound a lot like my mother?” Lyra puts the bottle back into her bag.

“You are clumsy and easily distracted. I have to keep my eyes on you every time. It’s rather distressing.”

“I can take care of myself!” Lyra lays a punch on Vergil’s chest. “Remember, I weakened Phantom last week, so you devil twins could kill that spider easily!”

The cambion smirks disdainfully to her weak strike. He puts something off from the back of his coat and hands it to Lyra. It’s an old book with a black leatherbound with the title engraved in a beautiful golden emboss. “Your payment for escorting me today.”

Lyra observes the front cover with beaming eyes. “The Poems of Edgar Allan Poe...”

“It’s one of the mementos I brought from the Manor. I reckon you would love Poe, given to your fondness of horror and mystery.”

“Then I have to refuse! It’s yours!”

“I believe I made myself clear when I said the book is for you.”

Lyra was about to refuse again, but quickly zip her mouth when Vergil glared at her with his terrifying and undeniable gaze. He won’t take any ‘no’ from her. She flips the pages, and something almost falls from the book before Lyra catches it quickly; an antique necklace with an obsidian pendant. She takes a closer look at the pendant and recognizes the familiar white, shiny dots pattern on it— the Lyra constellation.

“… did you pick this one too from the manor?” Lyra asks carefully.

“… it was from the antique shop.”

“I didn’t see you strolling around the jewelry section.”

“It was displayed on the counter. Nothing special. Just normal jewelry. The pattern just reminded me of you—”

Vergil can’t finish his sentence because Lyra wraps her arms between his waist, locking him in a tight embrace. He can feel the strange, but comfortable warmth fills his body as he returns to hug her without hesitation. Her body is so small and shorter compared to his height that he needs to bow slightly in order to balance the embrace. He loves her scent— a strange mixture of peach, black tea and old roses— and quietly inhales the intoxicating fragrance from her hair. He feels like he could do this all day.

“Thank you,” Lyra’s murmur vibrates his chest. “I’ll cherish this forever.”

“It's just a book and a necklace.”

“These are the best presents since the lyre from my mum!” she chuckles. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually hug people around.”

“Neither do I.”

“So let us hug a bit longer, shall we?”

“It looks like I have no choices but to comply.”

For a moment, they banish their distrusts about each other, breaking the adamant barrier and wishing the time to stop ticking.

---

Yesterday, Lyra dreamt of a boy who wanders around a big house.

She thought it was just a meaningless dream, at least until she realized that she was the boy himself. She looked at her— his — reflection in the mirror; the little boy was handsome with swept back silver hair and a black pajama. His serious and grumpy expression reminded of someone she couldn’t remember yet. She— the boy —wandered off around a big and dark house. It wasn’t her own intention; like her movement was controlled by someone else. She opened a chamber and let herself in. There was a woman who lay unconscious on the bed. Lyra could see traces of tears on the woman’s sullen face. Her body forced her to lift the quilt to cover the woman’s body and tip-toed herself out from the room.

When she was about to go back to her room, she heard a wheezing cry and followed the voice to the main hall. It didn’t take her too long to find out the source of the voice as her hand reached to open a white drawer, where another little boy with the same silver hair cried inside it.

“Vergil…” that little boy stared at her with a turbulent sob coming out from his mouth. “Father… you… you d-d-don’t believe that he died… r-right?”

I am…Vergil?

Does that mean that this crying boy… Dante?

The next thing Lyra remembered was she woke up with tears stream down her face like a waterfall, soaking her pillow. She was sure the sadness she felt in the entire dream wasn’t hers, but Vergil and Dante’s. She was going to tell Vergil about her strange dream when she saw the exact same white drawer in her dream at Sparda Manor, but she thought she was biased. Vergil had told her about how devastated his family was when they heard that Sparda was deceased, and her dream must be just her brain playing a trick to her.

But then she thought, Vergil never told me that he found Dante hiding and crying in that draw…

Tonight, Lyra falls into another strange dream. Even weirder and scarier. A titanic, god-like demon tortured her in the most unimaginably painful way. Her entire body was chained and spiked. The demon was merciless. His face was full of disgust and hatred as he spat her insults and penetrated her head with dreadful illusions she couldn’t even envision. He kept calling her “disgraceful offspring of the traitor Sparda”. It was only then she realized that she wasn’t herself, but Vergil.

Lyra fights herself to wake up, and is barely successful. The dream is too visceral that she almost still can feel the pain all over the body as she opens her eyes. Her back is wet from her own sweat.

Why do I keep dreaming of him? Moreover, I never experienced this kind of pain…

Does it have something to do with our accidental mind link on that day? Strange things have happened since then...

Her wave of thoughts are interrupted by the sudden thirst in her throat. She snaps her fingers and the light from the lamp brightens the bedroom. The door cracks slowly to open its way for Lyra. The librarian walks with leaden steps as she rubs her sleepy eyes. She almost stumbled upon a chair when she entered the kitchen.

“A cuppa sounds delightful to cure nightmares,” Lyra mumbles at herself, swinging her hand to summon a cup from the drawer. The cup flies and lands right in front of her, but she makes no further movement but staring blankly at the cup. Her body is still shivering by the imaginary pain from her nightmare.

“From all the people in the world, why does it have to be Vergil? This mind link is vexing me...”

The harsh cry of a raven causes Lyra to glance over the kitchen’s window. She curves a light smile while opening the window and lets a little raven enter her house. The raven lands on her shoulder for a while before flying around the house and lands on the kitchen counter.

“Where have you been, Corvus? Haven’t seen you for days!” Lyra greets the raven.

The little bird tilts its head and squawks. Lyra giggles as she pats the raven’s head. “Hey look. My friend gave his poem book to me and one of the titles is The Raven. I like it, by the way. And I’ve been thinking about him lately, even dreaming about him. To be honest, it’s disturbing. Do you think I should invite him here and tell him the truth?”

The raven gives her a nod.

“You are right. A cuppa is best served with a friend, don’t you think?”

Corvus flaps its wings eagerly. The black bird flies around Lyra’s head before making its way outside the house.

“Leaving already? You haven’t eaten yet!” Lyra shouts at the raven. “Alright then, send my regard to your girlfriend!”

Corvus squawks something like a curse, causing Lyra to barks in laughter. She heads back to the counter as she turns on the radio to entertain her confusing state of mind, picking the channel telepathically until she finds her favourite channel. She listens to the song while summoning her phone from the bedroom, tapping the screen until Vergil’s contact name pops on the screen.

Down in the willow garden

Where me and my love did meet

As we sat a-courtin'

My love fell off to sleep

I had a bottle of burgundy wine

My love, she did not know

So I poisoned that dear little girl

On the banks below

I drew a saber through her

It was a bloody knife

I threw her in the river

Which was a dreadful sign

“By Jove, that song is sinister,” Lyra chuckles darkly. Her solemn face is turning pale. “As for the poisoned little girl… well…”

She clicks Vergil’s name, waiting for the devil to answer with fingers tangled between the black pendant on her neck, hoping half-heartedly that he wouldn’t pick her call.

~~~

A/N : the song mentioned at the end of the chapter is “Down In The Willow Garden” by The Everly Brothers.

Tagging : @drusoona @harlot-of-oblivion @queenmuzz @shiranyaaww @andieperrie18 @rubixa-seraph @blooddrop-palace (I honestly forgot who to tag, so if you want to be tagged just send you reply or DM me! XD)

Masterlist | AO3

#devil may cry fanfiction #vergil x reader #vergil x oc #vergil x lyra #vergil #dante #nero #lyra #vergil x original character #original character #developing relationship #mystery #tales of apotelesma #spark of stardust #night writes

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be-dazzled · 4 years ago

Text

Miraxus Day: Family is Family

Laxus Dreyar, Mirajane Strauss November 8, 2020 Dedication: To my small Miraxus family. I love you all.

Writer’s Corner: Of course I’m not gonna forget. This is such a mess. I was going back and forth with drama, comedy, drama and comedy. It’s all over the place! But I hope you guys still appreciate it. Let me know what you guys think.

HAPPY MIRAXUS DAY!

All rights reserve to Hiro Mashima, original creator.

Masterlist

---

Family. That’s all Laxus ever wanted – a family. He used to believe that a mother, a father and a child made a family. But Laxus came into a world his mother had just left and all he had was his father. He thought maybe the two of them were enough but Ivan’s quest for power had consumed him and eventually, Laxus was not enough anymore.

Gramps came into his life and introduced him to a new home – Fairy Tail. But even then, his concept of family never changed. Laxus still considered his father as family, the only one he had aside from Makarov. And so, when Gramps was forced to excommunicate Ivan, Laxus considered it the highest betrayal. Because what father could disown his own son? What family would choose strangers over one’s own flesh and blood?

His dear Gramps destroyed Laxus’ family and he was so filled with hatred and darkness that he started to believe that there was no such thing as family. Only power.

Little by little, he had become his father – so obsessed with power that he was willing to step on and destroy what his grandfather held closest to his heart. But deep inside Laxus knew it wasn’t the search for power that pushed him to declare the battle of Fairy Tail. It was his hatred of his grandfather who chose a bunch of strangers over his own son. It was his loathing of Makarov, who created his own family in Fairy Tail, and left Laxus alone and lonely. Without a family. He was so consumed by his hatred that he failed to see that the only reason Makarov protected Fairy Tail was so that Laxus would never feel lonely ever again. That he would always have a family.

He was beyond saving but Makarov never gave up on him.

It was a long road for Laxus but in the end he came to finally understand what Gramps was trying to tell him. That family was not only defined by blood but most importantly, it was about love. In the end, he finally realized that he had family and all along, he was home.

But something was still missing.

---

Laxus’ return to the guild did not usually call for some big celebration because they did not need Laxus to create some ruckus. They got Gray and Natsu for that. Recently, however, it wasn’t only the Thunder God Tribe whose faces lit up every time the big boss came back from his long missions. One pair of blue eyes gleamed upon his return.

Mirajane Strauss. Now, that’s the woman who knew the importance of family. She had dedicated her life to protect her own.

“Welcome back, Laxus.”

There was surprise in the dragon slayer’s eyes but one that was welcomed. He gave him a soft smile, one that was considered meager as compared to Mirajane’s.

“I hope you weren’t charged with so much damages.” Mirajane started a conversation while she took the accomplishment report from the S-Class mage.

“I’m not Natsu.” defended Laxus, “nor Erza.” His orange eyes followed the Head Waitress as she read the report and filed it in the books. He planned on taking the day off and getting some much deserved rest. However, the job request Mirajane just handed to him was going to put a dent on that plan.

“Don’t forget about your promise.”

Laxus did not. He was a man of his words and when Mira decided to cash in on that promise, he would definitely honor them. But the thought had kept him up some nights. Knowing Mirajane, she’d cash in soon and would probably make him do things he’d never do as long as he was alive. Despite his inhibitions, he still agreed to go on a job with Mira. They argued about their meeting point: him wanting to pick her up from her house and Mirajane wanting to do the opposite. His pride was not having it, so, they settled on meeting halfway.

“Oi, Demon. Don’t make me do weird things.”

It was one of his wisest decisions to leave before Mirajane gave him details of the job.

“I won’t!” Mira shouted after him and the Dragon Slayer disappeared behind the wooden doors.

The next day, they met right in front of the guild, where they mutually decided was fair for the both of them. Mirajane led him to a residential district, lined on either side with common bungalow houses. Laxus was right to worry about that bright smile and even brighter blue eyes, when, at the end of the block, they were welcomed by a nice middle-aged couple about to leave them five crazy boys to care for the day. In short, Mirajane just dragged him, the great Lightning Dragon Slayer, Laxus Dreyar, into a baby-sitting job. Him? Makarov’s grandson about to follow into his footsteps in leading Fiore’s strongest guild? One of the most respected mages of whole Earthland? A Dragon freaking Slayer? Going to babysit a crazy bunch on a sugar rush? No way, Ma’am. Not in this lifetime.

If Mirajane wanted to spend her day babysitting, that’s up to her. Not Laxus Dreyar.

But if Mirajane said they were going to spend their day babysitting, that’s what they were going to do.

That’s how Laxus Dreyar found himself in the middle of all that chaos: dangling two thrashing boys in either arm; head throbbing, ear splitting from all the screaming; staying really, really still in the middle of the kitchen floor because there were loose marbles all around him. The reason why he was in the middle of marble island was with him too but instead, she was wobbly carrying some easily breakable plates.

“Kids! Don’t run around please.”

Laxus tilted his head on the side, just a little tilt, and wondered how Mirajane could keep the honey on her voice despite those little spawns of the devil making their job a tad harder than usual. If it was up to him, he’d fry the little demons and call it a night. Five evil boys, at their age and without a nanny? What were that middle-aged couple thinking? But Mirajane was nothing but patient with those kids, like she had always been with the grown-ass children back at the guild, and she was pretty good at it. So, Laxus was going to trust Mirajane with whatever crazy plan she was going to come up with.

“Do we have a plan?” asked he, trying very much not to be condescending, even though he was really close to just squeezing the squirming boys into silence, with his bare arms.

“Put me down, spark plugs!”

Laxus had learned earlier in life, you have to be stern with these boys or you would never get the respect you deserve. So, he stared down that little demon and pulled the most deadly glare he had mastered.

“I’m gonna show you plugs if you don’t keep quiet.”

Which, his inexperienced ass had taught him, was not a very good idea, since the boy with mahogany hair discovered a higher pitch for his screaming.

Definitely not the best idea.

“So?” He turned back to the woman who at least was the more experienced between them.

All the answer she could offer him was an apologetic smile – beautiful but apologetic smile. Then, not like it was crazy enough – that Mirajane was out of any ideas, crazy or not – the universe was really testing them. Five, eight and ten year olds never listen to anything an adult says. Because when you tell them not to run around, they bump into you while you’re carrying a tower of ceramic plates.

So, Laxus had to step up and use some magic. He charged the marbles with small static to clear up a way for Mirajane.

“Cool!” one of the kids exclaimed and the two stubborn rascals in his arms stopped squirming for freedom. The kids all demanded he do it again, cheering him on until Laxus caved in.

Now, he wasn’t the kind of man who got pushed over and ordered around. No one could make Laxus do what he didn’t want to do. But those kids were looking at him like was some kind of a hero. And so, Laxus charged the marbles again so they rolled around the kitchen floor in some entertaining fashion. The boys didn’t move an inch.

Kids were too easy.

Easy to win over and had no loyalty, at all.

Because now they were entertaining their eyes with Mirajane’s Take-Over magic. Who even thought a pink giant lizard was cool?

Traitors.

His static charged marbles rolling around every direction was way, way cooler.

Laxus did not feel abandoned by his disciples. No way. He decided to sit there at the couch, comfortably at that, and scoffed at those simpletons who thought a blue bunny existed in this world. Geez. His great magic skills were a waste on those kids. Laxus glanced towards where the giggly laughters were coming from.

What a bunch of school girls.

Laxus was just thankful he didn’t have to waste any more energy on children’s play, quite literally. But his plan on spending the rest of the night slipping into a nap – and letting Mirajane do all the babysitting – was put on hold when, at the corner of his eyes, he saw a nonthreatening silhouette standing under the arch. Not a second later, a little girl holding a blue bunny stepped into the light. They held each other’s stare, one studying the other. Then, the little girl with the long reddish, brownish hair approached the big guy on her parent’s couch.

“Who are you?” interrogated her. “And why are you lazing around in my house?”

Laxus thought she was very articulate for a little girl.

“Laxus.” He offered his name. “I’m your bab– I’m your guardian for tonight.”

“You mean my babysitter?”

One orange eye twitched at the word. It was enough Laxus had his argumentative baby blue eyes at home; he didn’t need another one on his job too.

“Guardian. Alright?” insisted the big guy. “Now, it’s past your bed time. Why are you still up?”

“Those brats woke me up.”

She climbed onto the couch and settled next to her babysitter. The way she casually dropped he word ‘brat’ pulled the corners of Laxus’ mouth just slightly up but the spark of amusement in his eyes showed that his interest was piqued.

“Is that your girlfriend?”

Laxus’ orange eyes followed her stare and saw Mirajane turning back to her original form. But one who never shared about his life, the guardian a.k.a babysitter tried to dodge the bullet.

“Didn’t your parents tell you not to talk to strangers?”

She nodded in response. “Stranger Danger.”

Laxus wanted to ignore the kid but she had other plans.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“So, why are you still talking to me?”

“You gave me your name. So, you’re not a stranger.”

Laxus kept his lips shut just in case smarty-mouth took the hint and would just go away. Turned out, she wasn’t as smart as he thought she was.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Couldn’t get the hint.

“I could be dangerous.”

“You’re a big guy lazing around a couch.” She gave her a look that made him feel like he was stupid. “How dangerous can you be?”

That was not only Little Miss Smarty Pants being such a smart pants but also being the ingenious, unintentional snark that she apparently was. Laxus could feel another headache coming.

“How old are you again?”

“Eight. Is she your girlfriend?”

Laxus eyed the girl, giving her one of those serious, intimidating look he used to scare the people in his guild with. It did not make her budge, not even just a little. Laxus just had to admit defeat. The little girl was not going to drop the subject until she was satisfied with an answer.

“Sort of.”

Appearing satisfied with that, the smarty pants whipped her head to the side to study the lady who was making her brothers guffaw. In just a matter of seconds, she already made up her mind about Mirajane. “She isn’t that pretty.”

That was a surprise for Laxus. As far as he knew, Mirajane Strauss was every man’s dream. Sometimes, a woman’s too. Guys wanted her. Girls wished they could be her. But, what did an eight year old know?

The girl turned to face him again and, in a matter-of-fact tone, told him he could do better.

Laxus folded his lips to keep that thin line on his face from pulling wider. He didn't want to be the one to tell Mirajane that an eight year old girl just flatly told him that Laxus was out of Mirajane’s league. He couldn't fault the child for being that honest. Kids didn't lie.

"You think so?"

"Yeah." The little girl answered around a big yawn. Then, she leaned on the big guy and rested her head against his arm, pulling her blue bunny tight to her chest. “Way better.”

It maybe wasn't right for him to feel good about that but he did. Sure, he wasn't going to win the best secret boyfriend award but the woman being so lovable made him doubt himself. Laxus knew he wasn't the friendly, approachable type. Kids were either afraid or just dismissive of him. He had improved over the years but sometimes, as much as he told himself it didn’t bother him, Laxus was worried that he wasn’t as likeable as Gramps, who was grooming him to be the next Guild Master. There were times he’d think he made a breakthrough, like earlier, when those boys looked up to him like he was the greatest thing in the world. Then, all of the sudden, he wasn’t. But thanks to this little girl sleeping soundly beside him, Laxus felt a lot better.

---

“She said that?”

Mirajane showed no signs of being bothered or insulted by a little girl calling her ‘not that pretty’. In fact, she was more surprised that Laxus was the one hogging their conversation. He tried to repress the enthusiasm in his voice and expression but the Dragon Slayer was never this chatty. On their walks, Laxus always played the audience and Mira would always talk his ears off.

“Don’t take it too personally.”

It was very late in the evening and the two managed to put the kids to sleep before the couple came home to relieve them. Guardian missions paid well and Laxus finally realized why.

“Those boys gave you a hard time, huh?”

“It’s like we never left the guild.” Mirajane’s giggles were abruptly cut off by the sudden gush of wind.

Laxus noticed it. So, he shrugged out of his large coat and draped it over Mira’s shoulders. To keep himself warm, he shoved his hands inside his pant pockets and slid closer to her as they continued with their walk home. Bickslow said something about sharing heat or something. He said girls liked that.

“Mina’s just like you.”

The declaration made Mirajane turn to him, a bit surprised. The little girl obviously hated her. “Really? How so?”

“She snores when she sleeps.”

Yeah, she thought. She pulls your hair and pretends to sleep too.

“Oh.” Mirajane didn’t really know what to make of it. She was sure she didn’t snore. Or did she?

“And talks in her sleep.”

Mirajane didn’t think she did that. But that wasn’t the thought that caused her stop and fall behind. Looking back, she realized that from the client’s house up to now, they’ve only been talking about the boys and their sister, Mina. Laxus even had that warm expression on his face when she talked about the little girl who slapped and kicked Mirajane when she tried to pick her up from the couch to place to bed. But when it was Laxus who carried her away, Mina snuggled up to him and slept in his arms, like a baby.

“Mina’s really…” Laxus struggled, although he tried not to show it, to look for the right word to finish his sentence. “C-cu–. Mira?” He only noticed Mira’s absence when he looked at beside him and she wasn’t there.

“Oi,” Laxus came back for her. Worry and confusion made lines appear on his forehead, “what’s wrong?”

She stared at him, studying his features slowly changed as years passed by. Mira remembered the time when he was just a little boy, the cute young golden boy who doted on his grandfather. The little boy whom people expected great things from. Vignettes of his growing years played in her memory, his highs and his lows, until her reminiscing brought her to the here and now, staring at the man that Laxus had become.

“Mirajane.” His voice was laced with equal concern and warning.

“Do you know why I took this mission?”

She was proud of him, of how far Laxus had come. He started as a sweet kid; broken by what Laxus took as his grandfather’s betrayal when he sent away Ivan; until he found his way back home.

“I’m not in the mood to play guesses, Mira.”

And he realized that family was not only defined by blood but also by love. That we may be born into a family but sometimes, when we are lucky, we find one or we get to create our own.

“Because I wanted to see how you’ll be around kids.” Without knowing it, tears had started to roll down her cheeks. Mira rested her hand over her belly, feeling the bump that wasn’t there yet. “Now that we’re expecting one.”

The cruel, November wind slapped on Mira’s tear-stricken cheeks. It was late and the streets had been emptied. From Laxus’ expression, she was glad they had the privacy to have that conversation. Mira dropped the hand on her belly and tightened the large coat around her body with it. For the first time since she received the good news, Mirajane got scared. She got scared as she stared into Laxus’ widened eyes and found no emotion in them. She took a step back, mind in complete mess.

Did he not want the child? Would she be raising their child on her own?

Questions ran around and about her mind. But Mirajane was strong. In those quick moments when he said nothing, she tried to rebuild a life that was just in ruins.

Mira took a deep breath, mustering the courage to tell him, “You… you don’t have to do anything. I–”

But before she could finish her sentence, Laxus had bridged the small distance she placed between them. He dropped his head on her shoulder and once again, they fell into complete silence.

“I’m just tired, Mira.”

Laxus words were muffled by the collar of his coat but Mirajane could hear the croak in his voice. He didn’t say anything after that but Mira noticed his shoulders lightly shaking. When he shifted his head to nuzzle at the crook of her neck, she felt his warm tears. Right there and then, without Laxus saying anything, Mira finally understood his feelings. She gently patted the back of his head, silently telling him that it was okay. They were going to be okay. They were going to figure it out, together.

Laxus then wrapped his arms around Mira’s slender figure, tighter and tighter, until her fears were squashed. The thought of messing it up as first time parents tentatively crossed her mind but she wasn’t afraid of it. Because it was Laxus. Because she was going to embark on that journey with Laxus. Because even in his small voice, she heard his words over the low howling of the November wind.

“Thank you, Mira.”

Family. That’s all Laxus ever wanted – a family. Even if his definition of it had changed over the years, one stood the test of time. Laxus was the luckiest man alive to have known a family defined by blood, by love and now, by both.

---

Bonus:

Laxus did not know regrets. He believed that everything that happened – good or bad –were, simply, opportunities to learn.

But now he was starting to regret when he told his wife he wanted a daughter.

“I hate you, Papa!”

His three year-old hit him with a fist in the face. Now, being the daughter of two of the strongest mages in Fairy Tail, his daughter’s punch could not be taken lightly.

“Princess, you need to eat your vegetables.”

“No!”

“But it will help you grow.”

She crossed her arms and barked a definite, “No!”

If she was a boy, Laxus’ glare would do the trick. But when it comes to his little princess, Fairy Tail’s ninth guild-master could not keep a straight face, how much more a frown.

“But–”

“See? This is why you shouldn’t spoil her.” Mirajane, with a slight bump on her tummy, moved around her husband to her seat at the dining table. She wasn’t too far along but already showing. “Fayna, you need to eat your vegetables.”

The Dreyar daughter did not say a word but only gave her mother a look that said, ‘make me’, which Mirajane did not appreciate coming from a three year old. It also didn’t help that pregnancy hormones cut her patience by half; so, Mira stared back at her daughter and the two ended up in a silly stand-off, while the father took the cowardly way out by just waiting for them to stop.

Just another day at the Dreyar House.

Laxus knew exactly how it would end – with his little princess crying to her daddy.

Fayna’s baby blue eyes brimmed with tears. Laxus just had to count to three until his little demon conceded to the other demon in the house, curl up to her daddy and cry to him.

“Mama’s being mean, again?”

Fayna buried her face against the dragon-slayer’s chest and nodded, clutching on his father’s pressed shirt.

“Laxus!”

The dragon-slayer shrugged but gave his wife an apologetic smile. Papa Laxus was definitely whipped and totally twisted around his little princess’ finger. Mirajane did not like it one bit. She didn’t like to always play the bad guy and she told him about that. Laxus promised he would try to be stern with the little demon. When the time came, he’d be the one to discipline her.

Laxus sought her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, his orange eyes begging for understanding. Mirajane just rolled her eyes and Laxus mouthed quick thanks.

When the day came that his daughter wanted to learn magic and eventually joined the guild. When she finally went to her first mission without her Papa and Mama. When Fayna finally sought her independence, he’ll subject her to the same discipline the Guild Master puts all the kids at the guild. No special treatment for his Fayna.

But for the meantime, while Fayna was still his baby girl and she still liked her papa, Laxus wanted to spoil his little princess.

#miraxus #miraxus day #miraxus day 2020 #laxus dreyar #mirajane strauss #be-dazzled #lamira

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chromium7sky · 5 years ago

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Four eyes/ ObsureD | second shot

A/n: wtf, the second part for four eyes. Still can't believe this. You may follow #damirae and #foureyes

Not long after they were having chat at the kitchen, the alarm suddenly blaring intensely. Damian and Raven jolted and quickly sprint towards the control room.

"What do we got?" Raven looked at the screen as Damian typing on the keyboard looki g at the coordinate where the alarm set off. It seems there's a group of mage call the Riot terrorise at north region of San Francisco city.

"The Riot. Again with their agenda." Damian sighed as he looked at their information. The Riot consist of three ameteur mage who decided to use their power to proven they are worthy. Instead doing good deed they decided to be scoundrel as they wanted to fight the mage based hero like Raven to measure their capacity.

The member of the group are Mimic, Psyche and Mirage. Mimic has the power to copy, Psyche has the power to take over the enemy body while Mirage has the power to project item out of thin air.

Damian still remember where his body controlled by Psyche to do reckless thing such as stealing Raven's cloak or switching both of their cloak. There were the time where both of them body swap which is a very very bad day.

"Ah, the three idiot again? What did they want this time?" Raven stared at the screen with the face of three mischievous rascal.

"A showdown." Damian quickly to his equipment room picking his best weapon and his costume. As soon as he's fully equipped, he went to the launching pad toward the Robin's airbike.

As He flip on the switch and pushed a couple of button, the engine start to hummed and and it start to warm up. Putting his helmet, and twisting the accelerator, the propeller start to spin blowing the debris near by away including it's cloth cover.

The bike has levitate and Damian balanced it by controlling it's handle.

"Arm and ready, Robin." Raven casually sit behind him, riding the air bike.

Damian almost jolted but he manage to calm down and look at her by the shoulder. "Hold on tight." He pressed the valve as the propeller spin more faster. "Lead the way, Raven."

Raven activate her power as her eyes went all white. She held her hand past his shoulder as the purple energy surrounding it. A door, a worm hole like door open, without wasting any time, Robin dive into the portal door with his bike.

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

" Why not we make this road more, alive?" Mirage waving his hand towards the road nearby and suddenly the road turn into gigantic snakes as it began to curled and gliding. People where shouting in fear, some run towards the other street.

Then came a girl with light blue hair, crackled haughtily as she saw people start to get away. " Freeze!" She lift both of her hand, light turquoise line start to come out from her finger and attached to a couple of people. They movement start goes to restriction then froze up. "Sorry, no sorry. Guess you guys are now riled up!"

As she moved her hands, the people who has been attached by her string start to picking up some pipes or wood lying around, start to do vandalizing.

One of the group, a boy just found the lighter. The unwilling victim had been forced to pick it and light up. Before the boy throw the lighter toward a store full of cooking utensils, the lighter has been suspended in mid air with purple aura surrounding it.

Before Psyche, the girl with blue hair, questioning what happen, then came the rain of batarang towards them which makes Mirage forming a shelter out of water from the water supply nearby.

The engine noise start to deafening them along with wild blown debrises that makes them closed their eyes. " What is this??!" Psyche shouted and has lost her concentration towards her puppet victim.

Without their knowing, all three of them has been bind by dark tentacle that come from the floor. Mirage shouted " Mimic! Do it!!"

Mimic smiled as he move his hands, another set of tentacle appeared pulling out the tentacle that bind them. " This is easy."

"Try it again." This time came in a batarang along with hard steel string circling the three amateur mage lower limbs. With a hard pull all three of them stumbled on the ground along with the purple tentacle embracing them, preventing their further movement.

"Shit!" Mimic curses as they have been captured.

"Guess we have gone through Lovecraft alpha plan well, Raven." Damian walked out of nowhere with hooded cloak as he bring his sword.

"I'm surprised it went well," Raven appeared behind the shadow of black bird.The Riot all shudder as they met the two demonic duo hero, Robin and Raven.

"Wrong timing for making a fuss at San Francisco city, Riot." Raven levitate display her eerieness.

"Shit." Mimic cursed under his breath. "Psyche! Use it! Use it now!" He shouted.

The way Mimic shouted makes Raven grew anxious about what about to happen. As Psyche successfully let one of her hand out Raven quickly step in front of Robin.

"Raven! Wha-" before Robin continue his sentences, a bluish flame blasted from Psyche hit the Witch girl.

The fire didn't burn her clothes and her skin but Raven scream as she crouched holding her face.

"Raven!!" Damian try to grab her but Raven went out of control as she unleashed violent shadows as she scream.

Her gem on her forehead glows dangerously red and the shadow whipping through the air. The Riot tried to escape by using the dirty tactic failed as the shadow start to suffocated them.

"H-hel...." Psyche drown in those shadow as she held her hands towards Damian.

Damian without thinking much he hold Raven from behind. "Raven! I'm here!"

Raven still screaming as the pain still burn.

"Raven!" Damian scream as wrapped his arms around her, embracing her. "I'm here. Nothing will hurt you. Not when I'm watching." He cooed her as his whispered.

Raven as if awaken from nightmare slowly landed her head on his shoulder. "R-robin?" Her voice similar to a girl who has been scared by her nightmare.

"That's right. I'm here." As he rub her back up and down. The. He could feel wet sensation on his shoulder. Is she crying?

The shadow slowly start to dissipated freeing those smothering ameteur mage who are now gasping for air.

Before they managed to escape, Damian quickly throwing three set of Bolas towards them, tying them down.

The Riot try to escape with magic but to no avail the Bolas were unaffected as it has been set by Raven to be anti magic properties.

"Raven, look at me." Damian hold on her chin as he cast his eyes on her face. Her eyes are gone!

"Damian." She whispered. "I can't see." She rest her face on his chest, holding onto his shoulder. Damian cursed then look at the Riot.

"Follow my lead. We're going back to the tower." As the young Robin lead the witch towards his Air bike. As he seated her, he glared at the culprit then at Raven and back to them. "Damn it." He cursed.

He walked towards them. "What did you do to her?" He pull out expandable blade from his glove. "Spill it out or your guts will."

The Riot were silent then mumbling each other. After a few exchange look and nod, they look at him. " We were..." The girl swallowed her saliva then proceed. "Stealing from one of the old shop down town." She shown the pendant. The pendant that has the lotus flower shape with each of the petal has eyes.

" We felt some huge energy from this pendant and it seems we have contact to it." Mirage explain. "They say the will help us by offering a pair of two eyes of thy enemy."

"We thought it might be fun prnak but turns out something else." Psyche bit her lips as she recalled what happen.

Damian got nearer as he inspect the pendant. With the blade he pulled the necklace, torn off from the light blue hair girl. "I need to go to the tower to find the book about this. I think I have seen it before." As Damian inspect the cursed artifact. Quickly he pulled the back zipper from his utility belt and put the artifact in it then stored it back on the other side of his belt.

"All three of you better come with me. We need to track down the source and gives the eyes back to Raven." As he pointed towards Raven who is seated, sighed, holding out her hand in front of her face trying to test her vision which to no avail.

"Please have mercy on us." Mimic beg some sympathy for them.

"Not until we solve this mystery or else." Damian walked towards raven who sit on the bike, silent. "Raven."

Raven jolted then turn her head towards them. "Yes?"

"I don't know if this is possible but can you teleport us towards the titans launching pad?"

"Us?"

"I found something that stole your eye sight."

"A curse?"

"Curse artifact I pressume."

"...okay then. I'll try." Raven take a deep breath, gathering her thoughts and concentration. "Azarath Metrion Zinthos!"

In a blink of an eye, they were teleport back to the teen titans launching pad along with captured The riot.

Mirage was astounded." What level is this sorcery?"

Raven turned her head to the pressumed direction."Way better than you."

Damian went to the control centre picking up three mysterious devices from the drawer. In a quick move, he threw three of them towards Riot's arm and they quickly wrap around it. "As a safety measure, incase you guys were up to something." Damian pulled the Bolas releasing them.

The mages up on their feet. Mimic as mischievous try to cast a spell but it died before it be able to execute. "The band are anti magic too and..." Damian unfinished his sentences.

Mimic jolted by surge of electricity which made he landed on his knees. " It absorb your magic energy and turn into electricity." Damian continue after the demonstration. Mirage and Psyche look at him with horror.

"You can't do this to us, you bastard!" Psyche screamed at him.

"It's a perfect punishment for three of you." Damian shrugged. "Hope you learn your consequences for doing such damage by banishing my friend's eyes!" He pointed at Raven. "Since you're here with us, it is the time for your atonement by helping us to break thecurse."

"What if we decided not to cooperate?" Mirage raised his eyebrow.

" I tell you, if I didn't stop her, Us and this world would probably end up in hell." Damian glared at him. "Be grateful with your spared life."

The riot shivered. " Okay, we'll do it."

"Good. All we need is a book And a real mage." Damian walked toward his airbike. Raven still there standing as she lost in here thought.

"Hey."

"Damian."

"You okay?"

"It didn't burned anymore but I still can't see." Raven sighed. As Raven tried to walk, she goes wobbled and quickly Damian grab her by the waist.

"Don't get hard on yourself. Come, let me be your eyes." His voice goes soft as he put her arm around his shoulder. "You three, follow me."

"Yes, sir!" All three of them quickly followed Robin and Raven.

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mtvswatches · 5 years ago

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Wynonna Earp 2x07 Everybody Knows

Click here for previous recaps!

Stray thoughts

1) Okay… the “Previously On…” brings up several interesting points from season 1 – Bobo telling Waverly she’s not even an Earp, and Wynonna not really buying they’ve truly defeated the seven revenants. I hope this doesn’t ruin my figuring things out on my own as I watch this episode…

2) The Creepster’s sisters are pretending they fell asleep like everyone else and that they don’t know about the widows, but Wynonna is not buying it. Trust your instincts, girl.

3) A+ writing.

WYNONNA: Mercedes wasn't Mercedes! Usually, she's a fun bitch, not a bitch bitch, which is like "Whoa, bitch," but - It's a bitch thing.

I also noticed this is how Wynonna deflected and avoided answering Dolls’ questions about her seeing a doctor. But like, when would she have seen one? She found out she was pregnant and then boom! 3 to 6 months passed and they’ve been fighting demons since then, so...

4) I genuinely laughed at this…

5) Wynonna got a head rush and Dolls immediately called Doc and told him they had a Code Rainbow, and I can’t wait to find out how and when they came up with a code for Wynonna-related situations, and why is it called Rainbow?

6) The widows are burning Clootie’s head and she whispers “Holliday” and what about the connection between Clootie and Doc? And now someone is coming after Doc?! But they seem to be from the Wild West, like literally? WTF

7) This is the most Wynonna thing a pregnant Wynonna could do…

8) Dolls and Doc literally dragged a doctor to Wynonna’s to have her checked. Bless them. Also, bless the doctor. She seems like a cool lady who takes no bullshit and genuinely cares about her patient.

9) Doc is coughing… is he… getting his tuberculosis back now that Cootie is dead? Is their bond broken and he’s no longer immortal?

10) This is such a Spike reaction…

11) DOC MIGHT NOT BE THE DAD?!

12) Oh lord, Doc is having one of those days where nothing is coming up Doc! Now he’s been marked for capture and execution for a warrant that was filed against him 135 FUCKING YEARS AGO! Damn, these people know how to hold a grudge! Isn’t there a statute of limitations on these things?

13) Waverly is freaking out about Doc not being the dad, and tbh, so am I. He will be totally crushed!

14) And now Wynonna has to break it to him and he’s being the sweetest most perfect gentlemen and I’m crying?

DOC: So… May I ask - are you doing alright? WYNONNA: Of course you can ask. DOC: Things have changed since my day regarding male participation in these matters but I'll be as involved as you desire. No more, no less. All I want, and excuse me for being old-fashioned, is for you to be healthy for you to be as close to happy as possible. And I will do anything, I will give anything to ensure it. WYNONNA: You're such an asshole. DOC: Maybe I said it wrong.

He’s going to get his heartbroken, isn’t he?

And of course, she didn’t tell him...

15) I AM FUCKING JEREMY OKAY?!

JEREMY: I mean, imagine the little rascal if he has Doc's piercing blue eyes and Wynonna's luscious hair. I swear, seriously, we are going to be defenseless against such a glorious creature.

He even wants to babysit their baby, and so do I! But why is he assuming it’s going to be a boy? I’d wager it’s a girl.

16) You know, everyone gives Jeremy such a hard time, but he’s such a trooper. Accidentally or not, he just found some key evidence to figure out whether Mercedes and her sisters are the widows, okay? And he also figured out the location of the seal before that. He might be a doofus, but he gets shit done and he deserves some respect.

17) Nicole is mommysitting Wynonna and I love it, these two can and should become besties.

18) OMG Waverly just spilled the beans about the baby quite possibly not being Doc’s…

No, she won’t be better off!!!

19) So… Wynonna’s alter ego is Aphrodite and she is a stripper who worked at Pussy Willows. Sounds about right. But Wynonna is not about to tell her one-night stand that he might be a baby daddy. Instead… she plans on stealing a glass with his saliva on it to do a paternity test. That is the most rational way to deal with this situation.

20) WTF!

Is she having a revenant baby?!! Can revenants even have babies?!

21) I died!

22) And now Dolls is congratulating Doc and it’s like he’s inadvertently rubbing salt in his wound…

23) Nicole is getting hammered because she’s having all of Wynonna’s drinks. And now the revenant shows himself and he seems to be aware he had a one-night stand with the one and only Heir…

24) OMG Jeremy has just locked all them in here with his binding spell, didn’t he? Because they inhaled the thingy he was trying to bind?! This is not looking good for Doc! And Jeremy’s reaction…

25) Nicole is the cutest and the dumbest drunk but she still has game, I love her.

26) They are literally bound together, like one moves, the others do, too… Please let this last forever…

27) Or maybe not!

This whole scene was comedy gold!

28) The Sheriff who is after Doc is a phantom, they cannot hurt him, except… Dolls did? How?!

29) Wynonna just said “Abort! Abort!” and apologized to the baby and I died hahahaha!

30) Well, I guess this whole being bound together has brought some issues to the surface…

DOLLS: This is about a girl? You're the most selfish guy I know. You do whatever you want, whenever you want, and then when you get in trouble, you bring everybody down with you. DOC: Oh, I thought we were gonna be mature about things. I was leaving to face my demons on my own, which is how I work best. DOLLS: Wynonna, that baby, they need you, so this whole lone-wolf shit that you're doing, it ain't gonna cut it. 'Cause guess what, Doc, you're gonna be a daddy. DOC: Well, it is quite possible that I ain't. I reckon that should put your mind at ease.

Dolls does make a great point about Doc needing to stick around for Wynonna and the baby, whether it’s his or not. But I think what Doc was trying to do was take his problems somewhere else and not pile them on Wynonna and possibly put her and the baby in danger. Fleeing is always his first response in the face of trouble, but he has stuck around, hasn’t he?

31) Okay, now they’re facing a whole army of ghosts. That should be a piece of cake.

32) Wynonna now needs to figure out how to deal with the may-be revenant daddy of her might-be heir/revenant baby. Waverly suggests offing him, but… that feels wrong, somehow? It’s the baby’s daddy, after all. Wynonna is looking for an alternative, though.

33) Doc is about to be executed and he’s just told Dolls and Jeremy that he’s not going down without a fight, and like, if they’re still bound, that’s going to be hilarious.

34) Dolls just spoke on behalf of Doc and called him his brother and I’m over here like awwwwwwww! And he literally saved Doc by outranking the Sheriff. He actually pardoned Doc! They’re bros in love!

35) Oh god, I take it back, I take it back! He so does deserve to be shot in the fucking dick!

DOUCHEBAG: I remember that night. You stumbling in all doe-eyed drunk, working those West-coast hips to a little Lana teasing out lap dances for free. WAVERLY: Stop it! DOUCHEBAG: The place was crawling with revenants, and here you were performing for them all. Of course, I was the only one that knew you were the heir. I admit I was hoping you'd be a bit more of a challenge. I always heard you had a mouth on you. And you do. Hmm, baby, one smile from me, and those legs - popped right open. WAVERLY: Shut - your stupid, sexist pie hole! DOUCHEBAG: I believe we were talking - about her pie hole. WAVERLY: Enough. DOUCHEBAG: You see, we always thought the best way to defeat the heir was to kill her, Lucky for us, she's a whore who defeated herself by letting one of us get inside of her.

Bless Wynonna, she shot him. I just can’t believe she let him go that far. She still doesn’t know if the baby was his, though. And I know that plot-wise it would be much more interesting for the baby to be an heir/revenant hybrid, but can it please be Doc’s? Pretty please with a cherry on top?

36) “As Earp as you and me.” Now, that was a trigger…

Well, it was about damn time this was addressed, right? But like... now I’m afraid Waverly might be an heir/revenant hybrid herself? The douchebag mentioned it had happened once before, right? But then she would be an Earp...

37) What a fun episode! Damn, this show is always such a wild ride, and I have so much fun watching it! I’ll continue to pray for the baby to be Doc’s, okay? Although I’m 99% it’s going to be the revenant’s because plot twist, am I right? And whose daughter is Waverly? What about her history, indeed? And how did she end up with the Earps? Who is she connected to?

38) Hope you enjoyed my recap, and, as usual, if you’ve got this far, thank you for reading! If you enjoy my recaps and my blog, please consider supporting it on ko-fi.Thanks!

#Wynonna Earp #Waverly Earp #Doc Holliday #Xavier Dolls #Everybody Knows #recap #WE 2x07 #mine #WE recap

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our-smooty · 5 years ago

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Flowerbeds and Fertile Soil: Chapter 7

Fandom: Good Omens

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens, )Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer

Tags: Kidfic, Mpreg kind of, they can choose to present however so idk, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Vulva (Good Omens), OCs Galor, parenting, using your snake form to avoid confrontation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pregnancy, if I missed a tag lemme know

Summary: They could do anything, go anywhere, all without the worry of Above or Bellow making a fuss. Even so, they mostly kept to their little patch of Eden, their cottage and garden and the simple life they’d carved out among the locals. Aziraphale opened a book shop in town, where he only occasionally sold any books (and the ones he did sell, were all modern and stocked specifically for that purpose). Crowley focused his attentions on the garden, and if he occasionally helped their elderly neighbour with her disobedient willow tree, then that was a secret no one needed to know. Lately, however, they had both been feeling rather restless, unbeknownst to each other. Aziraphale tried reorganizing his store, changing the way he tied his bowtie and even ate pizza –something he considered to be far too messy for him personally. Crowley had branched out into birdwatching, and then car maintenance (the human way), and even reading. Nothing scratched the itch for either of them.

Ao3 Link

My Ko-Fi

They got the call from Newt a few days later. Baby Boy Device-Pulcifier, named Alfred or Alfie for short, was born healthy and screaming his head off. Crowley, being the more tech-savvy of the two of them, managed to facetime the other couple so Charlotte and Annabella could see the new baby and their parents. Anathema looked tired, but happy, while Newt was buzzing around the background with excitement, probably annoying all the nurses to death. Bella and Lottie had lots of questions, most of which were nearly unanswerable because they kept speaking over each other. After half-an-hour little Alfie began to wake up and fuss so they had to end the call, promising to visit as soon as they were ready to take the baby home.

“M’a big sister?” Bella asked, her excitement obvious. Crowley couldn’t help but smile as Lottie began to pout.

“I’m still the biggest sister,” she declared, stomping her foot. Aziraphale chuckled at her attitude and ruffled her hair.

“That’s true my dear, but do you know what being the biggest sister means?” She turned to him with wide eyes, more than ready for responsibility in that way only children could be. Bella had lost interest and was playing a game on Crowley’s phone, but the demon made sure to listen in. “It means you have to help out two little siblings and be twice the good example for them.”

Charlotte’s face scrunched up in concentration for a moment before she smiled with a determined look. “I can do that, Uncle Aziraphale!”

“Good girl, I know you can.” Crowley cleared his throat and cast a proud look over at the angel.

“Nice one, Aziraphale,” he praised genuinely, though the sentence sounded a little sarcastic. Aziraphale beamed all the same. It was good to see his angel feeling a little more confident in his abilities to interact with the kids. Those types of things rarely came naturally to Aziraphale and Crowley knew he was trying hard. It filled him with so much pure affection it was almost disgusting. Almost.

“Thank you, love. Shall we go out and pick something up for the little lad as a welcome-home gift?” Their god-daughters cheered, mostly because they knew their uncles wouldn’t be able to resist buying them something as well, and ran off to get ready. Crowley was already thinking about all the adorable little outfits they could buy for the new baby boy. Maybe he could spend a miracle to make sure a few of them would grow with him, at least for the first few months. It’d been a shame when the girls grew out of all the clothes they had gifted.

“Are you up to some shopping Crowley? You have a much better eye for these things than I do,” Aziraphale asked. He ran a hand up Crowley’s arm and into his hair, cradling the back of his head softly. Crowley leaned into it like he always did, soaking up the touch like the touch-starved, heat-seeking serpent he was. Even 10 years of constantly being touched and being able to touch hadn’t removed that need completely.

“Of course, do I ever turn down an opportunity to spoil the kids? And someone has to stop you from buying the poor bairn a completely tartan outfit,” he teased. Over the past three days he’d had 4 more episodes of nausea and 3 episodes of dizziness, but none as severe at the first. Now that he knew what they were and how to handle them it wasn’t so terrifying for him and the angel and there hadn’t been any more fainting spells. This morning the sickness had lingered until noon before it tapered off and now he felt fine. A little shopping might actually make him feel better.

“Fantastic. Do you think we might…?” Aziraphale trailed off nervously, but Crowley had a feeling he knew what the angel wanted to ask.

“If you see anything you really like for, uh, ours, I wouldn’t say no to picking up a few things. Not a lot mind, but you never know when you’ll see something perfect,” Crowley rambled. He adjusted his glasses to make sure they were still covering his eyes. It was a nervous tick he didn’t think he was ever going to break. His slight unease was offset by the relieved smile and small kiss on the cheek Aziraphale gave him.

“Thank you, my star. You’ll let me know if you get uncomfortable though, won’t you?” Crowley leaned down to give the angel a kiss of his own, this time on the lips.

“Sure, angel. Just don’t try and buy the entire baby store yeah?” A shrill cry from the room down the hall followed by Charlotte’s voice loudly proclaiming that she hadn’t done anything rang through the house. Both beings sighed and stepped back. Godparenthood called once again. Crowley was beginning to look forward to the girls going home. Not that he didn’t love having them around, but they were really putting a damper on his Aziraphale time. He wasn't sure if it was because of the baby or if he just really, really loved the angel but lately he'd had an almost constant need to be close to him.

Neither of them wanted to make the long drive to London, so they made the short drive down the road to the nearest baby shop instead, a little store called Cheeky Rascals (which made Crowley nearly do his own wiggle of delight each time he heard it). They’d gone here many times since the girls had been born, and were sort of known by the employees. Especially since Aziraphale was the type to gush to anyone about their godchildren.

“So we’ve agreed. Two outfits and only one toy, since they still have things from when Bella was little,” Crowley repeated for the third time since getting in the car. He doubted Aziraphale was listening, too busy imagining adorable little jacket and trouser combinations. In the back of the Bently, strapped into their car seats, Bella and Lottie argued over who would get to see Alfred first. Crowley, of course, drove the exact speed limit with utmost care while they were back there.

“Aziraphale, did you hear me? Only two,” he repeated firmly. He knew once they got there the angel would start to get carried away with the excitement of it all. Crowley didn’t feel like wrangling a flightly angel and two children at the same time, but it looked like that was going to be the case.

“Of course dear,” Aziraphale answered distractedly, like he hadn’t actually heard what Crowley said. The demon sighed and committed himself to a much less relaxing evening than he’d initially expected.

“Just, try to keep it within reason,” he begged as they pulled into the store parking lot. They each took charge of getting one of the kids out of their seatbelts and ferrying them safely through the lot and into the store. Inside was an assault of baby blue and pink, a small section of more neutral yellow, and entirely too many plush toys.

“Ok girls, why don’t we go pick something out for your new brother?” Aziraphale asked leading them down the isles into the clothing section. He waved at the clerk behind the counter, who waved back and cooed at the girls as they passed, remarking on how big they were getting. Crowley was sure she thought they were he and Azirapahle’s kids, and no explaining that they were their godchildren would convince her otherwise.

Crowley decided to leave them to it for a few minutes while he looked around for gift for the newborn hmself. He knew Anathema came from money, and could probably afford anything she and Newt wanted for their new baby, but he prided himself in finding the perfect gift for each child. Quickly striding through the stroller and car seat section he came to the toys.

The selection was overwhelming. There were soft toys, talking toys, glowing toys, and toys that did all three. He’d given Lottie a stuffed puppy that she still refused to leave the house without. For Bella he’d picked out a teddy bear that glowed slightly when you squeezed it that had made her frequent night-time worries much less frequent. Crowley needed to find something similar for the new one, which was going to be a little bit of a challenge since he hadn’t actually met the kid yet. Relying almost entirely on his Demonic Luck (which, if asked, he would deny having and instead have called it skill), he scanned the shelves, waiting for something to jump out at him.

After a few minutes of fruitless browsing, he Felt something as he passed a display filled with a variety of different plush pillows. He began to scan the piles, looking for one that felt right. Carefully, Crowley began to dig deeper into the pile, until his hand touched something. It was a blanket, barely four feet long, knit with a lovely cream base and accented with green felt leaves. Upon closer inspection it wasn’t right for his new godson; something inside his chest told him it was a little bit too dainty. But it still called to him for some reason and he couldn’t seem to get himself to put it down, like static cling had glued it to his hand. So he didn’t try, and instead bundled it up in the crook of his shoulder and kept looking.

In the end he came across a caterpillar-shaped stuffy with extremely soft fluff around the head that felt right for little Alfred. His mission completed, Crowley decided it was about time to check in with Aziraphale and get to work on cutting down the probably dozens of items he and the girls had amassed. Surprisingly when he found them, still in the clothing section, they had less than ten in their cart, with Charlotte and Annabella holding one shirt each for themselves. The shirts both read “proud big sister” which made him smile.

“Found anything you like angel?” he asked, waltzing up behind Aziraphale and resting his head on his shoulder. Aziraphale had two teeny-tiny bowties in his hands, one a blue checkered pattern and the other solid red. “The blue one would look cute with those corduroy overalls you have picked out, as much as I hate to admit it.”

“Oh, Crowley! You startled me!” Aziraphale said, shaking himself a little then holding both bowties up. “Do you really think so? I would have thought you’d prefer the red and that little jean jacket with the matching trousers.”

Crowley cast an eye over the mentioned articles and made a considering noise. “Not for him, I don’t think. It’s more, our style?” And it was. The jacket was that kind of cool-baby-chic that was very in right now, and the trousers had cute little tan patches sewn over the knees that reminded him of Aziraphale’s favourite coat.

“I think you’re right,” Aziraphale sighed, setting the red bowtie aside sadly. Crowley snatched it up and set it at the neck of the outfit. It really did go well.

“We could get it for us,” Crowley murmured, refusing to look away from the little outfit. He could picture a faceless form, a few months old crawling around in those exact garments. Or walking through St. James’ Park pushing a stroller, while the angel walks beside him, leaning down to fuss with the collar of the jean jacket, making sure it’s keeping its owner warm and happy. Embarrassed, he physically shook his head to bring himself back from that daydream. He held out the bowtie like it might burn him. “If you like it so much, I mean.”

“Oh really? I think we should. Something about it just seems very right,” Aziraphale gushed, putting the items in his buggy happily. “Did you find anything for Alfred?”

Crowley offered up the stuffed caterpillar in what he hoped was a casual fashion. It felt right, but Aziraphale’s approval of the toy was inordinately important to him. Luckily the angel smiled and nodded, saying that it was perfect. Bella and Lottie ooh-ed at the toy, each holding their hands out. Crowley didn’t hand it over though; he knew that if he did it’d never make it to its rightful owner.

“Not this time, niblings. This is for your new brother. And besides, your mum and dad would kill me if you brought home and more toys.” They didn’t kick up too much of a fuss, mostly because they already had their “sister shirts”, as they had begun calling them. Crowley breathed a sigh of relief and took a seat on a nearby bench, content to watch Aziraphale coo over baby shoes. This trip was far less traumatic than he’d been bracing for in the parking lot and it felt good to get to enjoy this in a weird, human way. Never, in all 6000 years of his life (and before that, the blurry memories of far, far Before), had he imagined he would be sitting in a baby store, shopping for his human friend's child (nevermind his own).

“Well what do you think Crowley? I’ve narrowed it down to five, and we can pick two from those?” Crowley was once again snapped out of his daydreaming to address his lover. All five outfits were perfect. Maybe he’d been giving Aziraphale too little credit before.

“Let's just get all of them. We can save a few for his first birthday or Christmas and miracle them to fit,” Crowley answered, greatly enjoying the way Aziraphale lit up. Of course he knew they’d go home with more than they intended, but how could he deny his angel anything?

“Really? That sounds like a wonderful plan. We won’t have to make another trip out here for the Holidays.” They would though, Crowley knew. They wouldn’t be able to resist giving the kid some of the outfits whenever they visited, no matter how much they tried.

“Sounds good then. Are you ready to go?” Crowley watched Aziraphale pause and go through his mental checklist. He was just about to assure him that they’d gotten everything they came for when the angel pointed to his side.

“What’s that?” Crowley looked down then felt himself blush. He’d completely forgotten about the blanket nestled in the crook of his elbow. “Is it something else for Alfred?”

“N-no,” Crowley stuttered, feeling more than a little flustered again. He’d kept his cool over the outfit mostly because Aziraphale had picked it out and he was only doing the angel a favour by saying they should buy it. The blanket was his choice and that made it all the more personal and real. “I liked it, s-so I thought maybe… you know?”

“Yes?” Aziraphale had that look on his face that said ‘I know exactly what you mean, but I want to see if I can make you say it’. It was a look that was almost always followed by Crowley making a fool of himself as he tried to muddle through his feelings.

“Bastard,” he huffed under his breath, quiet enough that the kids wouldn’t hear. “It's for--for our one? Alright?”

Of course that earned a slight laugh and a large smile from his angel. “Of course, dear boy. May I see it?” Crowley handed over the blanket with a scowl, refusing to look up from the floor. He could head Lottie whispering to Bella about how his face was nearly the same colour as his har. “It’s lovely Crowley. The leaves--and this wool is so soft! A very good choice, love.”

Aziraphale ran his fingers across the woven wool with delicate care, almost like it was one of his precious ancient scrolls. Slowly he brought it up to his face, pressing the softness to his lips and humming in pleasure. Crowley’s breath hitched, his soul nearly undone by the simple, rapturous look on his angel’s face. “Glad you like it, angel.”

“I’m sure I’d like anything you pick out.” Did Aziraphale know what saying those kinds of things did to him? He must have, he said them so often it had to be on purpose. But usually, when the angel was teasing him he would get that look, so maybe he didn’t. It seemed impossible but maybe Aziraphale really did just… love Crowley like that.

“Can we go now?” Lottie whined while tugging on Crowley’s sleeve. “I’m hungry.”

“Nibbles?” Bella asked, wide-eyed and eager as Aziraphale picked her up and placed her in the buggy seat. Crowley had taught her that one, mostly because he knew it would make Aziraphale laugh.

“Why not? I’m sure we can find somewhere to grab a bite before heading him, right Crowley?” Of course they could. They had the near-limitless power of Heaven and Hell at their disposal, finding a place to eat was extraordinarily simple. Finding somewhere that served something both girls would eat, that would meet up the Aziraphale’s expectations, and had parking enough for the Bently was another matter entirely. But things had been going well so far, and Crowley was feeling quite optimistic for once, so he nodded and led them towards the check-out. Maybe it was possible to have a nice, relaxed afternoon with their little extended family, without any disasters.

Three days later Newt called to say they were ready for the girls to come back home, and if Crowley could drive them over that would be much appreciated. Crowley thought about refusing to make the drive, just to live up to his demonic nature, but in the end couldn’t resist going to give his present to Alfred in person. So he and Aziraphale packed up Bella and Lottie with their gifts and made the few-hours journey to Tadfield. Of course it took much longer than usual, since Crowley had to go the speed limit, but at the very least he was able to miracle to traffic to stay clear.

“Ok now girls, you must try and stay quiet in case your brother is sleeping,” Aziraphale instructed as Crowley parked. “I know you’ve missed your mummy and daddy, and that you’re very excited, but it is very rude to wake a baby from their nap.”

“Yes Uncle Azi,” they both said, practically vibrating with excitement. They were both wearing their new shirts, and Aziraphale had braided their hair in an effort to make things as easy as possible on the new parents. Crowley expected that at least one of them would forget their instructions the second they all got inside, but he was ready to expend a small miracle to make sure Alfred stayed calm and not screaming through their visit.

“OK, let's go, angel,” he said. He saw Anathema waiting at the bay window, waving happily with a small bundle in her arms. Newton was already at the front door kneeling down and opening his arms for when his daughters inevitably rushed him. Crowley watched with a small smile, especially when Lottie began to loudly explain their new outfits and Bella shushed her.

“Isn’t that just lovely,” Aziraphale sighed, setting the seats to rights and offering to take one of the bags Crowley was holding. “I know they love us, but there’s something special about the bond between parent and child, isn’t there?”

“I know lots of people who’d disagree with you there angel,” Crowley remarked, hefting the remaining bag over his shoulder. Aziraphale very nearly began to whine. “Oh hush, I know what you mean.”

Aziraphale harrumphed and gave Crowley a scolding look. That was a common occurrence in their household though, so it barely phased the demon as he walked towards the open door. Newt was braced against the doorframe, making a valiant effort to listen to both girls as they simultaneously chattered at him. He looked ecstatic all the same, and Crowley’s stomach did a mild, swooping dive when realized that in a few years he might be in the same position. The last thing he needed right now was to get all overemotional, so he looked away, instead focusing on sliding through the doorway without getting knocked over himself.

“Hello Crowley, Aziraphale!” Anathema greeted eagerly. She was wearing one of the long flowy dresses she’d favoured during her pregnancy and looked absolutely radiant despite the fact she had literally pushed a living being out of her body not even a week prior. “Thank you again for looking after the girls for us, you have no idea how much we appreciate it.”

“No worries, my dear. The girls have been a delight. Isn’t that right Crowley?” Aziraphale said from over his left shoulder. Crowley was too busy staring at the bundle of blankets in her arms. He’d reacted the same when Lottie, then Bella were born, so Anathema wasn’t surprised.

“Why don’t you come inside for some tea, and meet the little man. You’re very lucky, he’s just woken up from a nap.” She gestured for them to drop the bags in the hallway and follow her inside to the living room, where there was already a pot of tea, steaming and ready, sitting on tea-cozy.

“Witches,” Crowley grumbled quietly, but Anathema just laughed. Behind them, the front door closed and the house was filled with the ruckus of Newt trying to get the kid’s shoes off before they ran into the house and tracked mud all over the carpets. He decided to take up residence in the wingback armchair by the fire that he always sat in when they visited, closest to the couch where Anathema had set down with the baby. The angle made it so he could see the barest wisp of dark hair peeking out of the blankets.

“Alright, here you go,” Anathema said suddenly, shifting over so she could pass him the baby. Crowley’s eyes went with shock, though he still held out his arms and took the boy from his mother with practised ease. "Oh don’t look like that, I know you’re dying to hold him.”

“Thanks,” he breathed, getting a good look at the little blob of pink flesh and linen. Alfred had his dad’s nose and his mom’s eyes, along with a startling shock of thick dark hair. Both Device-Pulcifer girls had been born with little more than peach fuzz, but he knew human babies came in all shapes and sizes. Aziraphale lingered over his shoulder still, making sweet cooing and awing noises.

“He’s perfect, Anathema,” Crowley said in an awed voice. “Shame about him getting Newton’s nose, but I’m sure it won’t do him much harm.”

“Ha-ha,” Newt groaned from the hallway. “Didn’t you say my nose suited Lottie when she was born? I seem to remember something like that at least.”

“I said nothing of the sort.” Aziraphale poked him lightly in the side. “Fine, his nose is… adequate. Lots of hair.”

“Yes, it’s actually quite shocking!” The angel sat on the arm of the chair and petted a hand against the baby’s head. “I’d forgotten how soft newborn hair is.”

“He’s a good sleeper too, only wakes us up every two or so hours,” Anathema said proudly. She procured a bottle from one of the side tables and held it out. “I was going to feed him, would you mind?”

“No problem.” In fact, Crowley was more than happy to spend as much time as possible holding the kid, though if he didn’t give Aziraphale a turn in a few minutes the angel might start complaining. Anathema nodded and passed over the bottle before standing a little stiffly. With a silent snap, Aziraphale took away some of her post-birth pains, though not enough that she would notice and start to put up a fuss. Crowley noticed of course, but he didn’t say anything.

Anathema left them there to go greet her other children. The entire cottage was filled with so much love that even Crowley could feel the very edges of it against his demonic soul. The first time he’d held Charlotte when she’d been born he’d nearly passed out from how much love he felt for her. It had happened a few other times too, when Aziraphale had confessed his feelings a week after Armageddon, and when they’d bought the cottage. Bella’s birth had come as a surprise--she’d been 2 months early--and unfortunately, that time had been filled more with fear and relief than love. But now, holding this little bundle of happiness and innocence, Crowley felt overwhelmingly at peace as he watched Alfred slowly suck down the milk provided.

A small gasp made him lookup. Aziraphale was staring at him and the baby with something akin to wonder and Crowley realized a large amount of the love he was feeling was radiating from his angel. He smiled and even though his sunglasses were still on he knew it was too genuine and too soft for his harsh features. “Do you want to hold him?”

Aziraphale shook his head, resting a hand on Crowley’s cheek and caressing his cheekbone as if he were something precious. “Not yet, my starlight. I’m enjoying watching you with him for the moment.”

“Aziraphale!” Crowley whined, feeling that familiar embarrassed heat creeping up his neck. It was bad enough he couldn’t hide how much of a sap he was for children, did his angel had to go and point it out all the time? He ducked his head back down to focus on holding the bottle at the right angle.

“Shh, don’t get yourself all in a tizzy. I only mean that it’s nice to see you so happy,” Aziraphale said as he planted a kiss against the crown of Crowley’s head. “I think it’s rather beautiful.”

Crowley was saved the indignity of floundering through a response because Bella and Lottie were being led into the living room by Anathema and Newt. Each adult held one little girl in their arms, depositing them down by Crowley’s knees with instructions to be very, very careful. He set the finished bottle aside and tilted forward, just enough so they could see their newest sibling.

“He’s small!” Bella squealed, her little fingers curling the blankets. Alfred wiggled and freed a hand, his itty-bitty fingers curling around hers.

“Why’s he look like that?” Lottie asked. That forced a laugh out of all the adults.

“You looked like that too honey, when you first came out of mommy’s tummy,” Anathema explained. Lottie looked scandalized but quickly recovered when Alfred let out a squawk.

“Is he trying to talk?”

“No, babies can’t talk until they’re older. Remember when Bella was little?” Newt asked and Charlotte nodded, though she’d barely been three at the time. “Well, babies look a little funny for a while when they’re first born. He’ll look different in a week or two, just like what happened to you.”

“I never looked like that,” she insisted, looking very much like her mother. Newt just laughed and gave her a kiss to the head. Crowley rocked Alfred a few times, since he’d begun whimpering more and more, then decided it was time to hand him back to Anathema.

“Little guys getting fussy, you’d better take him,” he said, handing him off to his mum. “I’m sure there will be time for you to hold him later angel.”

“That’s fine dear, wouldn’t want to set him off. Oh! Why don’t we go get his gifts?”

Alfred loved his stuffy, just as Crowley knew he would. The little tyke quieted right down when it was placed next to him in his rocker. Anathema and Newt greatly enjoyed the two outfits they’d brought with them, especially when Crowley assured them they would fit for the foreseeable future. The girls excitedly showed off their shirts, and overall it was a very pleasant afternoon. They were invited to stay for dinner, which Anathema insisted they accept as thanks for babysitting. Aziraphale was delighted to find out that she’d cooked her mother’s paella, though he admonished her for going to all that extra effort just for them.

“Don’t worry about it, I needed something to do when Alfie woke me up this morning and I couldn’t get back to sleep.” They sat around the dinner table and chit-chatted idly. Crowley made a go at some of the rice, eating around the seafood bits, but in the end wasn’t able to manage more than a few spoonfuls before feeling that now-familiar rolling in his stomach. He pushed his share over the Aziraphale, who took it happily, not stopping his conversation with Newt about the human’s new job at the post office. Crowley glanced over to the witch, worried his refusal to eat might be insulting, but she just smiled and shrugged.

“I couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as fish when I was pregnant with Charlotte, don’t worry about it,” she assured him. It was the first time all day anyone had acknowledged Crowley’s… condition and he wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about it. He didn’t want to think about what it would be like when he started showing, and everyone who saw him would know.

“Ngh,” he responded, shrugging himself. It was awkward, being seen like that, but if it had to be anyone, the witch was probably the best option. “How long does this go on for again?”

“Usually just the first trimester, unless you’re really unlucky.” Which meant the was probably going to be doomed for the next however long.

“Great. Bloody, peachy,” he moaned, resting his forehead on the table. Bella giggled and tried to toss a shrimp into his hair, though she was thwarted by Anathema’s stern ‘mom glare’.

“Do you know how far along you are?” she asked, unphased by her daughter’s pouting. Crowley squirmed a little and wished Aziraphale was paying attention so he could field all these questions. But the angel continued to chatter on, oblivious to Crowley’s discomfort. And besides, Crowley thought, it was pathetic how often he was hiding behind his lover anyway. Time to buck up and not be a coward for once.

“We think two months? Maybe a little less? It’s not exactly like this sort of thing has been done before so we’re not exactly sure of… anything,” he explained, tipping his head up so his chin was resting on the table. This was nearing dangerous territory. “For all we know this whole process could take years.”

Anathema winced in sympathy. “I hope not. I have a few things leftover from Alfie, some tea and herbs and stuff that really helped me if you want them.” Human kindness always surprised him. He was struck with the urge to thank her profusely.

“Sure, can’t hurt I suppose,” he said instead, readjusting the arms of his glasses to make sure his eyes were fully covered. He didn’t truly need them here but without at least a few glasses of wine, he felt more comfortable with them on. Hell, he’d worn them for at least the first year when he and Aziraphale moved into their cottage.

“I guess it is all new territory. I could try and do some scrying, if you want, get the general lay of the next few months. I can’t make any promises though, I’m sure you know this stuff is more of an art than a science.”

Of course that caught Aziraphale’s attention. “You could really do that? I’m afraid looking into the future has never been one of my strong suits. Everything gets so awfully muddled, you think you see one thing but it turns out to be entirely something else.”

Crowley, who had been ready to insist that he did not want even more help, raised an eyebrow. “You’ve tried looking into the future? I’m a demon and even I know that’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Worked out well with Agnus though, didn’t it?” Newt chimed in, helping himself to seconds. “Rather well, if I remember.”

Anathema grinned smugly at the two occult beings. “Newts right, you know. Seems humans are just better at doing some things.”

“Newts right, you know,” Crowley mocked under his breath. The two humans just laughed while Aziraphale gave Crowley a swift slap to the arm.

“Crowley! Anathema has so kindly offered to look into our baby’s future and you feel the need to act like a complete child?” he seethed with all the polite rage of a true Englishman. Crowley squirmed under the angle’s unrelenting gaze. Aziraphale quickly turned to Anathema with an apologetic look. “Terribly sorry dear. We would much appreciate any help you could give us.”

Crowley glared at the table, successfully chastised. It wasn’t his fault! All these questions about something so personal were making him uncomfortable, and it wasn’t like he could just leave. Well, he could. Might do even, in a minute. Spend some time curled up in the trunk of the Bently as a snake. He always kept a few soft blankets in there, just in case.

“It’s fine,” Newt said, amused. “I remember how moody Anathema got when she was preg--” Right! That was it. A pot he hadn’t known was boiling inside him bubbled over. Crowley stood suddenly, his chair making an awful screeching sound against the wood floor.

“Gotta--gonna go outside--for some air. Y-yeah, air!” he garbled, quickly stalking towards the front hall. Aziraphale made to follow him but Crowley threw up a hand. “Don’t worry, won’t be more than a tick.”

For someone who walked like they were going to fall over at any moment, Crowley could move rather fast when he needed to. It came in handy in situations like this, or when he wanted to practise his dine and dash skills. In less than 30 seconds he was outside and popping open the trunk of the Bently. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed no one had followed him, and then he transformed into a snake. Smaller than his regular form, but it had to be in order to fit in the boot. He slithered into the dark, warm space and flicked his tongue at the door, which promptly shut itself. There, someplace calm and quiet to cool off (metaphorically speaking, it was warm in the trunk). He’d just stay for a few minutes, not long enough cause too much of a stir. Then he’d go back and finish dinner like nothing was wrong. Because nothing was wrong. He was just overthinking and needed to spend some time not doing that. Only a few minutes, fifteen at the most. Then he'd go back.

#fanfic #good omens #ineffable husbands #gomens #crowley #aziraphale/crowley #crowziraphale #fbafs #tw mpreg #mpreg

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nghtshvde-blog · 6 years ago

Photo

‘someone’ hung the moon and the stars!

BASIC INFORMATION.

Full Name: Cecilia Ann Rothschild

Nickname(s): Cece ( *by Nico, Ben, & Half-bro ) / Annie ( *by immediate family members ) and Nightshade / Night ( *by the rest )

Age: Twenty-six

Date of Birth: January 7th, 1992

Hometown: Dertosa, California

Current Location: Dertosa, California

Ethnicity: White

Nationality: American

Gender: Cis Female

Pronouns: Feminine

Orientation: Heteromantic & Heterosexual ( however, is questioning. )

Religion: Christian-ish

Political Affiliation: Democratic

Occupation: “Alchemist” & volunteer @ Mosiac ( shhh. )

Living Arrangements: Has a room at Poison Headquarters, top floor as well as a stay in a back house “garage lol” that she’s renting in the Amber District. ( only a select few know about it. )

Language(s) Spoken: English & basic ASL

Accent: General American

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.

Face Claim: Phoebe ‘Queen’ Tonkin

Hair Colour: Brunette w Highlights ( Day / Night )

Eye Colour: Hazel

Height: 5′8′′

Weight: Rude?

Build: Slim

Tattoos: * Basic b*tch is Basic *

Piercings: 4 on her left ear, 3 on her right. ( x )

Clothing Style: Black jeans & tees, (sometimes blue jeans), occasionally with a bomber or a typical black/red leather jacket. Lounges at home in her brother’s or Nico’s hand-me-downs.

Usual Expression: #ona”good”day / #onausualday

Distinguishing Characteristics: Eyes, figure, facial structure??

HEALTH.

Physical Ailments: N/A

Neurological Conditions: Dyslexia

Allergies: N/A

Sleeping Habits: Is able to catch at least 5 to 6 hours of sleep, though not regularly during the night. Depending on the day’s task, she’s either sleeping during the day or night. Can sleep anywhere. A drooler and hair must be either up or in braids during sleep. An eye mask is a must!

Eating Habits: Eats, usually, one meal a day with snacks throughout. Meals are normally extremely unhealthy and unbalanced, but often craves healthy snacks such as fruit or carrots. Has more of a savory tooth than a sweet one, but will indulge if craving. Basically eats like a teenage boy and is overly thankful for a fast metabolism.

Exercise Habits: Doesn’t exercise, lol. She considers Poison duties as a form of exercise. However, she often stretches out of habit before she sleeps and when she wakes up, as well as walking frequently ( more so to get to place than for health ).

Emotional Stability: 6? She has a temper and can lash out mercilessly. However, when it comes to 'inner demons’ she hides them well and has random outbursts of anger or sadness either when she’s alone or with someone she trusts.

Sociability: Nightshade is not sociable. She’s extremely introverted but is well aware of her status and responsibility. She goes out when needed but needs a huge recharge if she’s out interacting for too long. Can only stand being around the Poisons as a group, and outside of the gang, one on one interactions suit her best. Group settings are hell.

Body Temperature: Average, but leans towards cold.

Addictions: Alcohol and at rare times, the need for an adrenaline rush.

Drug Use: N/A

Alcohol Use: Oh yeah, complete alcoholic.

PERSONALITY.

Label: The Alchemist, The Crestfallen, The Leader

Positive Traits: Warmhearted, Self-Disciplined, Straightforward, Fair-minded, Diplomatic, Sympathetic.

Negative Traits: Aggressive, Hot-headed, Cynical, Obsessive, Quick-tempered, Resentful, Vengeful.

Goals/Desires: Nightshade aspires to continue Anthrax’s legacy, but is on a quest to avenge his death. She wants to protect the city, but when all is said and done and Dertosa doesn’t need protection anymore, she hopes to travel outside of the U.S.

Fears: No ‘real’ phobias aside from being unable to find Anthrax’s murderer.

Hobbies: Arcade & board games, DIYs ( solely to benefit her way of living ), and cooking her own meals. The process is fun, though she isn’t necessarily good at it. Still, if it’s edible, she’ll eat it.

Habits: Pacing, leg shaking, a bit of a hoarder, counts windows & doors, & nail tapper.

FAVORITES.

Weather: Morning brisk type weather.

Colour: Yellow, Light Blue, White, Deep Red

Music: She doesn’t have a ‘favorite’ genre, but often prefers and is soothed by Indie and Alternative Pop. Some artists she gravitates towards are bands and artists like The Japanese House. ( x ) 2000s / 90s Country ( Shania Twain, Rascal Flatts, LeAnn Rimes, Faith Hill ) is also a soft spot.

Movies: Enjoys classic comedies like Shaun of the Dead, Coming to America, Clueless, Dumb & Dumber as well as psychological thrillers like Gone Girl, Fight Club, and The Shining. Very rarely will Night indulge in anything else, but her favorite romantic comedy is a tie between The Princess Bride and 10 Things I Hate About You.

Sport: Doesn’t really like sports but goes nuts over little league baseball.

Beverage: Iced coffee, lemon water, and despite being an alcoholic ( she’ll basically drink anything ) she loves a good wine moment.

Food: Extra cheesy pizza, basic cheeseburgers, pasta of any kind, and steak.

Animal: Any dogs will do <3 and parakeets.

FAMILY.

Father: Abraham Rothschild, previous chief of police at Dertosa PD.

Mother: Emily Rothschild, school teacher.

Sibling(s): Benjamin Rothschild & ( Half Brother, Poison #1 )

Children: N/A

Pet(s): N/A

Family’s Financial Status: Middle-class.

EXTRA.

Zodiac Sign: Capricorn

MBTI: INFJ

Enneagram: The Protector

Temperament: Choleric

Moral Alignment: Chaotic Good

Primary Vice: Wrath

Primary Virtue: Humility

Element: Fire

#tcrp.task #yaasbish #this took 4ever #i love it when my muse and i are the same mbti #:')#also a big thank u to mj #for if it weren't for the helpful links #i would've 100% not have done it #LOL

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bussanbaby · 7 years ago

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Crossing the Institute’s threshold, Izzy immediately knows where she’s headed as the heavy doors swing closed behind her. It’s been a crap day, her mission going awry and then the rest of her day following the trend, making her more tired than usual. She could just go and relax in her room, put her hair up and read, head over to Clary’s room and rant about everything wrong in the world or see what her rascal of a little brother is up to, but she doesn’t.

She passes by the training room and greets Jace with a wave and a smile. He salutes back before going back to wailing on the punching bag.

It’s quiet, the clicking of Izzy’s heels announcing her presence before she even reaches the room. All the electronics in the OPS centre hum in unison, the blue hue from the screens reflecting against the buckles on her boots when she moves past them. A few stray Shadowhunters swipe across holographic displays of New York, looking focused. One or two pick up their heads and nod at Izzy before going back to their tasks.

For once, Izzy is glad for the lack of attention. Her ankle keeps sending out waves of dull pain up her leg, even after a generous use of an Iratze, it’s something anyone could notice and she doesn’t feel like explaining herself.

A few corridors into the depths of the cathedral, Izzy stops in front of the Head’s Office, an elegant gold plaque adorning the wood. It’s kind of late, but she’s sure her brother is still working, chin-deep in various paperwork. The door is cracked-open, warm light spilling into the hall as she drums her fingers on the doorjamb, various rings clinking against the wood, before coming in.

And she’s right - when she steps inside, Alec’s at his desk, hunched over a tablet filled with a wall of text; a stack of beige folders looms over at his side, a half empty coffee cup is dangerously positioned right next to them and his jacket sits over the back of the swivel chair. Alec doesn’t seem to have noticed her yet, lost in his job with the tip of his tongue trapped between his lips, fingers rubbing together in a way she’s seen Magnus do before.

“Earth to Alec?” she says, eyebrows raised and voice half-mocking.

His head snaps up and the sour expression etched into his skin dissolves into a soft curious smile, eyes twinkling in the light from the desk lamp.

“Izzy, hi. I didn’t hear you come in,” with a sigh, he lifts himself from his chair stiffly and she can hear his spine crack, which just confirms Isabelle’s suspicion that he probably didn’t give himself time for a break since dinner.

“You were so focused you wouldn’t hear a horde of demons running through the Institute. Five minutes of rest wouldn’t kill you, big brother,” she quips back and Alec almost looks chastised before rolling his eyes at her.

A twinge of guilt goes through his expression, but then he’s in front of her with his arms open and it’s just what Izzy needs. She wraps her arms around him, hiding her face in his chest; he’s warm and familiar, soothing in a way, his hands petting down her curled hair and coming to rest against her back. All of the stress from the day flows out of her to the rhythm of his heartbeat, when she puts her ear over his sternum.

“What’s wrong?” Alec asks, before pressing a kiss against the top of her head.

“Nothing’s really wrong, the universe is just out to get me today.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Izzy steps back with a nod and Alec leads her to the couch with a palm on her back, turning on one of the lamps along the way. It bathes the other half of the spacious office in warm light and the crackling of the fireplace makes it even cozier. They sink into the cushions and Izzy has to admit - one of the perks of having a brother who’s a Head is being able to lounge on one of the most comfortable couches she’s ever encountered. She makes quick work of the buckles and zips on her shoes before she kicks them off with a breath of relief, wiggling her toes. She lies down, stretching the whole length of the couch and putting her legs in Alec’s lap, who rests his own on the coffee table in front.

“So what’s up?” Alec asks, always the worrisome oldest sibling. His hands rest on her calves, absentmindedly drawing runes and random shapes over the fabric of her jeans. With the way Izzy folds her hands over her stomach, it starts to feel like a free therapy session.

“During patrol we got ambushed by shapeshifters, but before you freak out, no one got hurt, it was just more stressful than I anticipated for 8:30 in the morning,” she laughs and watches Alec give her a lopsided smile, eyes rolling at her comment about him; they both know it’s true. “Then Lindsay was annoying me with dumb comments, and after that I had to chase down Max before he got out of the Institute again. Don’t even get me started on my date, oh god.”

“You were going to see that Seelie, the one with the red hair, right?”

Izzy nods and wrinkles up her nose as something warm curls in her chest over the fact Alec remembers these details. She shouldn’t be surprised, she knows he cares and he’s very observant overall, but it’s just nice to experience the attention he pays to her, being one of the few people that truly know her.

“I’m guessing it didn’t go well?” he asks, tone nonchalant and a tiny bit curious.

The beginning of the date gave Izzy hope - they met up on time and the girl was gorgeous. She had white flowers adorning the edge of her jaw and her eyes were the same pretty shade of sea as when they met at Hunter’s Moon a week or so ago. But then it just went downhill; their conversation was stilted and awkward despite best efforts on both sides, as they didn’t have much in common, both personality and interest-wise.

“It could’ve gone better. We just weren’t compatible and it was boring. Also, she smelled like garlic bread, so I felt like I was talking to an Olive Garden.”

Alec chuckles and Izzy joins him; it feels almost like their evenings a few years back, when they were teens and they’d sit out on the Institute’s roof, just hang out with each other, brother and sister against the world.

“Just a fair warning, Magnus is going to hear this story,” Alec says through his snickering, and it’s such a married thing to say. Izzy knows Magnus has been away for a warlock council meeting in Barcelona for a few days already, but he and Alec have been talking on the phone, relaying all kinds of news and gossip as they would if they were home together.

“I don’t mind, you tell him everything anyway,” Izzy replies and winks at her brother, who feigns innocence, lips pursed in quiet protest. Even if her dating world is empty for the time being, she still has Alec to tease about being head-over-heels. “Now that you mention your boyfriend, ask him if he has any single friends, would you? Maybe I’ll find my unending happiness with a gorgeous magicmaker just like you.”

“I’ll ask,” Alec agrees, cheeks pink, but when Izzy glances up at him again from where she’s twirling a piece of hair around her finger, he looks like he wants to add something else, so she waits patiently.

It reminds her a bit of the conversation they had about sex, the same way Alec seems to be picking the right words, his mouth parted and eyes settled on something behind Izzy’s head.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you… you got on well with Simon, didn’t you? You two seem good for each other. And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t smell like garlic bread.”

Izzy can’t stop the grin spilling over her face and Alec looks exasperated before she even opens her mouth. “Is my big brother really trying to set me up with someone? Is this an alternate universe? What happened?” She teases dramatically and Alec pokes at her side in retaliation, before she can catches his fingers to stop the further assault on all of her ticklish spots.

“Love happened. We switched places and now you’re the miserable one.”

Izzy makes an offended expression, but she’s proud. She looks at her brother smiling ear-to-ear, openly talking about his feelings and joking with her when he used to scoff at her efforts to cheer him up. She knew Alec loved her whether he showed it or not, but actually witnessing him flourish into happiness and self-confidence is something priceless.

“I’m not miserable, Alec, just lonely and slightly sexually frustrated.”

Alec points at her with his free hand as if Izzy just confirmed his point and it’s her turn to roll her eyes with a groan.

“To be fair, I lucked out on my first try. So...” he drifts off, glancing over to the pile of work still waiting to be done with almost palpable disdain. “How about we go to your room, drink wine, and watch some of those bad movies you like?”

They smile at each other and Izzy pushes herself up and off the couch, barefoot on the wooden floors and hair messy from laying on it. She extends a hand to Alec and pulls him up, before linking their arms together in an exaggerated gesture.

“Sounds like a good time.”

#shadowhunters #Alec Lightwood #Isabelle Lightwood #posibanesquad #blushyalec #pure-magnus #userriya #moonylady #just some sibling love and banter #my fics #my incredible comeback is hugs and teasing who would've knew

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daehwins · 7 years ago

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(cute ask thing) 2, 10, 12, 13, 14, 17, 20, 23, 28, 34, 46, 51, 52, 57, 60, 66, 75, 94, 99 and 100 (have fun)

w.yaaa hey sweetie ilu thank u for this and keeping me occupied when im supposed to be sleeping dfshdhj. @haeochan

2). do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day?

no! unless im rlly warm then im up for it, but most of the times im freezing and dying, plus i dont like cold air in general bcs its hard for me to breathe in hwds.

10). do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach?

i’m more or less an octopus?? i like to roll around and wake up frequently during the night and cant stay still. i start out on my side tho and most of the time wake up on my side or stomach.

12). what's your favorite planet?

i never rlly thought out this tbh?? i dont kno much about the solar system so wdsb.. mayb pluto bcs its not a planet anymore and im salty about it

13). what's something that made you smile today?

you. and the people around me, today was rough but the people i surround myself with definitely made it much easier to process.

14). if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like?

okay so first off it would be with u. and idk?? like i can imagine a small and warm place full of blankets and soft decorations and lighting and pastel colors bcs i love pastel colors?? and animals bcs we boh love animals!! and kpop shit everywhere bcs im a mess but u would probably fite me until i cleaned up after myself!! tbh.. i would be happy with anything as long as i could be with u...

17) . what color do you really want to dye your hair?

it used to be red, but now its soft/pastel pink!! or silver or blue or anything tbh bcs i rlly am tired of my hair.

20). what’s your favorite eye color?

i dont rlly have one?? i like eyes in a person (?? that sounds weird but like.. i feel like eyes tell a lot about a person and theyre rlly pretty) like.. i like all colors in eyes tbh..??

23). what's your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations?

sleep?? eat?? watch meme videos, talk aboout ocs, and talk to u my honey bunches of oats (haha my job is to eMBARASS U FUCCER)

28). sunrise or sunset?

sunset bcs im lazy as hell and hate being up early as i wake up everyday before sunrise bc sof school.

34). tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it?

i have soooooooooooo many! but a rlly special one is a ratty old dog named puppers! i got him from a mission store when i was probably 4 or 5..? with my grandmother. hes rlly special to me and i keep him very close to me when i sleep bcs hes a large comfort to me, hes been through everything with me adn i plan keeping him as long as i can!!!

46). tell us the worst pun you can think of.

i would but that would be a PUNishment.

51). think of a person. what song do you associate with them?

you and spring day - bts. its one of my favorite songs and the lyrics just remind me of longing to meet someone one day that i miss dearly.

52). what are your favorite memes of the year so far?

all of them??

57). go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics?

lol i listened to the pentatonix vers. after today it makes me feel kinda weird lyrically wise.. i dont view it as the uppbeat song that everyone sings to.

60). do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?

i love poetry!! i especially like to write free verse poetry. (i might add more later)

“Funeral Blues” - W.H. Auden

(last two stanzas)

“He was my North, my South, my East and West,My working week and my Sunday-rest,My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;I thought that love would last forever: I was wrongThe stars are not wanted now: put out every one;Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood,For nothing now can ever come to any good.”

66). what would your ideal flower crown look like?

i have no idea tbh?? probably soft pink and blues?? idk about specific flowers

75). tell us about your pets!

i used to have a cat names rascal when i was very little! then various fish! now i have a black lab named addie! i love her very much and affectionately call her demon dog lol.

94). who was the last person you know to have a birthday?

some girl in my latin class was today but she didnt show up lol

99). list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them.

UHM ILL HAVE TO COME BACK TO THIS ONE WHEN IM NOT HALF ASLEEO SRRY.

100). if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why?

the future. i feel like the past is the past and its done, ive made my amends to what has happened and its done.i want to know where i am in the future and if i made it and am satisfied with where i am!

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pendulum-sonata · 8 years ago

Text

Day 26: Synchronicity

Arc V Anniversary - 30 Days (Ao3)

Prompt: Synchro

Words: 852

There is no clear reason as to why Crow should ever let this boy stay with him.

He’s loud, badmouthed, has the shortest attention span he has seen since he himself was a child, and on top of it he eats like a horse or some sort of wild beast... not that’s too tame, he eats like a fucking dragon and after the third bowl of miso soup he shows no signs of being satisfied.

Crow has not even had the chance to ask for his name when he dragged him to his house after catching him touching at his D-wheel, probably trying to steal pieces.

The bowl cluttered on the wooden table after he finished, and he gave a content gasp.

“Done?” As an answer Crow got nothing but a burp. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Now that the boy seemed to have calmed down he took notice of his clothes; dirty, worn off and with several loose threads, the yellow and blue colors were probably bright before but now they looked washed off.

He also wore no shoes.

“What’s your name?” He asked picking up the plates.

“Uh...”

“Did heard me?” Crow asked raising his voice a little bit.

“I heard you!” The little boy yelled, his tiny feet risen on top of the table and had the nerve to pull out his tongue at him. “I’m not telling you! Bleh!” And he made a show of dashing towards him as if meaning to throttle him.

Crow had not given the boy the opportunity to even launch at him as he picked him up by the neck of his shirt, his legs trying to kick him.

“Let me go! Let me go!”

“I’ll do it when I have your name!” He yelled too and something about his face changed at his tone too, he seemed to make himself even smaller than he was.

“..go.”

“What was that?”

“YUGO!!!” He yelled, his movements finally forcing Crow to drop him leaving the little rascal to hide under his table like a caged animal.

“Yugo?” He repeated and from below the table, blue eyes now shining with tears and a huge smile made way through his smeared face before he nodded eagerly. “What’s the matter?”

“You’re the first person who got my name right.” He said twiddling with his fingers.

Crow should just leave it at that, show him the way out and contact the nearest facility to take care of him, it’s not like there was anything special about his situation, if anything he looked better than most kids and...

*PIT* *PAT*

Rain, how he hated rain...

“Do you have a place to stay tonight?”

“Oi! Shinji! Look what the cat dragged, trying to steal our loot!” Shiniji looked up from his place at the dirty ground while still trying to see what was wrong with his engine.

There in between Tony and Damon there was a little girl with a faded pink dress, being the shorter of the two, Tony was the one holding up her hand to keep her from escaping, inside it there was a can of tuna.

Caught red-handed it seemed.

But the thing what caught his eye was the elaborate bracelet that shone on her wrist, if she was so hungry why didn’t she sold that trinket, it didn’t look cheap in the slightest.

“Leave her be, just take the can back and make sure she has not anything hidden on her-” Shinji had not finished the sentence when he saw the little girl who barely reached Damon’s thigh kick him on the shin after she elbowed Tony on his belly.

Both of them dropped to their knees, and she was looking down at them with a monumental glare, she walked to him holding the can on eye level:

“I took this because I noticed that you have boxes full of them under the tarps and didn’t thought you’d miss one... can I have it?” She asked and even through her vacant and cold eyes worthy of a demon he saw she was trembling underneath.

“What’s your name?”

“...Are you gonna hand me over to Security?”

“If I got near one of them, I assure you they’d be far more interested in me than you.”

“Rin.”

Shinji finally raised and sat to be on eye level with ‘Rin’ and handed her a can opener, she looked at it with the puzzling look and Shinji sighed taking the can from her hands and opening it for her, he placed it right into her hand, taking the chance to give her wrist a closer look.

As he suspected a small shift of her eyes made him aware of her observing skills.

“I don’t know what where expecting to get out from this without the proper tool but here.” He said letting go of her hand satisfied. “You know I need someone to help around here... Wanna learn how to build your own?” He asked tapping on his D-wheel.

Her eyes widened and shone with wonder, Shinji just patted her hair a little and said:

“Then watch and learn.”

#arc v #yugioh arc v #arcv30day #crow hogan #shinji weber #yugo arc v #rin arc v #my fics

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dazzledbybooks · 5 years ago

Quote

Harbor for the Nightingale is the highly anticipated fourth installment in the popular award-winning Stranje House YA series! #1 New York Times best-selling author Meg Cabot calls this romantic Regency adventure series "completely original and totally engrossing.""Enticing from the first sentence." --New York Times Sunday Book Review on A School for Unusual Girls "Baldwin has a winning series here: her characters are intriguing and fully rendered." --Booklist, on Refuge for MastermindsIt's 1814. In this alternate history, Napoleon has forced Europe to its knees, and now he plots to seize control of Britain.Maya brings the mystery of India with her...With her friends' lives in deadly peril, Miss Maya Barrington, one of Miss Stranje's unusual girls, must serve as a double agent. To do so, she gains entry into Napoleon's duplicitous game on the arm of the enigmatic Lord Kinsworth. She can read almost everyone; not so with this young rascal. Quick with a jest and armed with lethal charm, Kinsworth remains just beyond her reach. Can she trust him?With Britain's future at risk and those she loves in deadly peril, Maya questions everything she thought she understood about life, love, and loyalty.Fans of genre-blending, romance, and action will love this speculative history Regency-era novel filled with spunky heroines, handsome young lords, and dastardly villains--fourth in the Stranje House series. Don't miss the first three books: A School for Unusual Girls, Exile for Dreamers, and Refuge for Masterminds "An outstanding alternative history series entry and a must-have for teen libraries." --School Library Journal on Refuge for Masterminds"This alternative history series will appeal to fans of Gail Carriger's works and The Cecelia and Kate novels by Patricia C. Wrede and Caroline Stevermer." --School Library Journal on A School for Unusual Girls Title: HARBOR FOR THE NIGHTINGALE (Stranje House #4) Author: Kathleen Baldwin Pub. Date: September 26, 2019 Publisher: Ink Lion Books Formats: Paperback, eBook Pages: 352 Find it: Goodreads, Amazon, Kindle, B&N, Kobo Excerpt: One Miss Maya Barrington’S Typhoon July 1814, Mayfair, London, Haversmythe House Miss Stranje hosts a coming-out ball for her young ladies All the world is sound. Even if I were blind, I would still be able to see. It is as if everything hums—the trees, air, stones, and people—especially people. They all sing songs. Some songs are more dangerous than others. Most of the guests have already arrived at the ball, and our receiving line is dwindling. Georgie, Lady Jane, and Tess left us to join a lively country-dance. Seraphina still stands quietly beside me. Her inner music wraps around her as delicately as does the silk of her cloud-blue ballgown. With her white-blonde hair, Sera is the closest thing to an angel I have ever seen. On my other side, stands our rock, our headmistress, Miss Stranje, a woman made of iron. The footman at the doors announces another arrival. “Lord and Lady Barrington.” My father and his wife stand in the doorway. The instruments playing serenely within me crash to a stop and clatter to the floor of my soul. He came. I press my hand against my heart to keep it from flapping and shrieking like a strangled bird. Seraphina edges closer so that our shoulders touch. She is trying to lend me strength. The ballroom overflows with people. Dozens of strangers clad in shimmering finery, surround us, laughing and talking, but my very English stepmother ignores them all and marches straight for the receiving line. She holds her nose aloft, and her mouth pinched up so tight that her porcelain white face looks almost skeletal. An out of tune clarinet, she squeaks toward us, every step making me wish I could stop up my ears. People say she is beautiful. My father certainly must have thought so. I fail to see it, especially when her face prunes up as it is doing now. It is a familiar expression. One that causes me to quake nervously while simultaneously clenching my fists. Stepmother. That is what I was instructed to call her. I cannot bring myself to do it. Mother is a title of sacred honor. This woman, whose soul honks like an out of tune oboe, hasn’t the faintest motherly inclination toward me. To me, she will never be anything more than the woman who married my father. Never mind that my mother, his first wife, was a Maharajah’s daughter. To the new Lady Barrington, I am merely the brown-skinned embarrassment her husband acquired in India. Her hate roars at me like high tide slamming against a rocky shore. She halts, and her blond sausage curls quiver with distaste as she plants herself squarely in front of Miss Stranje. She does not curtsey or even nod in response to our headmistress’s greeting. Her words trickle out so sweetly that most people would not notice she is gritting her teeth as she utters them. “Miss Stranje, a word if you please.” Naturally, Seraphina notices. She notices everything—it is her gift. And her curse. She reaches for my hand to reassure me. Of the five of us, we who are Miss Stranje’s students, Seraphina Wyndham is the only one who truly understands me, and I do not want my best friend to suffer if she is caught being supportive of me. So, I smile reassuringly and slip free of her fingers. This is my battle, and I must face it alone. Sera tugs my arm as I step away and furtively whispers, “Do something. Calm her.” She, like everyone else at Stranje House, mistakenly thinks my voice contains some sort of magical power to soothe. It is much simpler than that. My grandmother taught me how to use certain tones and cadences to relax people and communicate tranquility. Most souls are more than receptive, they hunger for it. My father’s wife is a different matter. I have tried in the past, and rather than succumb to my calming tactics, she resists. On several occasions, she even covered her ears and screeched at me. I remember well her accusations of witchcraft and demonic bedevilment. It was on those grounds she convinced my father to send me away to Stranje House. I wish, for Miss Stranje’s sake, Lady Barrington would let me quiet her rat-like tendency to snipe and bite. Although, I’m not worried. I am confident our headmistress has guessed what is coming and will manage my father’s wife quite handily without my help. After all, a rat does not surprise an owl. “This way, Lady Barrington.” Miss Stranje graciously directs our bristling guest to the side of the receiving line. Father’s charming wife clasps my shoulder and propels me forward with her. I could not possibly soothe her now. I’m not nearly composed enough to do it. Indeed, I am battling an overwhelming inclination to yank her boney claw from my shoulder and twist it until she cries off. “What have you done, Miss Stranje?” Lady Barrington releases me and waves her hand at my ensemble. She is objecting to Miss Stranje’s ingenious innovation, a traditional sari draped over an English ballgown. “Why have you dressed the child thus?” Lady Barrington’s fingers close in a fist around the embroidered veil covering my hair. “I’m mortified! You’ve garbed her like a heathen. Surely, this is an affront to everyone here.” She flicks the saffron silk away as if it has soiled her gloves. “How do you expect Lord Barrington and myself to weather this . . . this outrage!” She barks so loud that some of our guests turn to stare. “After the enormous sum we paid you, it is beyond my comprehension why you should do us such a disservice—” “Lady Barrington!” Miss Stranje’s tone chops through the woman’s tirade. “Calm yourself.” Our headmistress stands a good four or five inches taller than most women, and she straightens to make every inch count. “You sadly mistake the matter, my lady. The other guests are well acquainted with your husband’s daughter. In fact, a few weeks ago she was invited by no less a personage than Lady Jersey to sing at Carlton House for the Prince Regent. Miss Barrington’s voice impressed His Highness so greatly that he, the highest authority in the land, suggested your stepdaughter ought to be declared a national treasure.” “What?” Lady Barrington blinks at this news, but her astonishment is short-lived. She clears her throat and steps up emboldened. “Oh, that. I am well aware of Maya’s ability to mesmerize others with her voice. She uses demonic trickery, and you ought not allow—” Miss Stranje leans forward, her tone low and deadly. “Are you unaware of the fact that Lady Castlereagh issued Miss Barrington vouchers for Almack’s?” “Al-Almack’s . . .” Lady Barrington sputters at the mention of high society’s most exclusive social club. Her hands flutter to her mouth in disbelief. “No. That can’t be. Lady Castlereagh approved of her?” She glances sideways at me and her upper lips curls as if she tastes something foul in the air. “Yes. Her vouchers were signed and sealed by the great lady herself.” Miss Stranje’s face transforms into a mask of hardened steel under which most people tremble in fear. “Not to put too fine a point on it, my lady, but Miss Barrington has been granted entry into the highest social circles. And, more to the point, it is my understanding that the patronesses refused to grant you vouchers. You were denied, is that not so?” Lady Barrington steps back, unwilling to answer, a hand clutching her throat. Miss Stranje refuses to let her quarry wriggle away. “In fact, my dear lady, anyone planning a soiree or ball during the remainder of the season, anyone who is anyone, has invited Miss Barrington to attend. I have stacks of invitations, dozens of notes, all of them begging your husband’s daughter to do them the honor of singing at their gatherings. Indeed, society has taken her under their wing so thoroughly I had rather thought you would be offering me a bonus, instead of this ill-conceived reprimand.” Miss Stranje turns and levels a shrewd gaze at my father, who until this moment stood behind us silently observing. He places a hand on his wife’s waist and moves her aside. This stranger, this formidable Englishman who I used to call Papa with such glee, steps up to my headmistress and takes her measure. After a moment that stretches long enough to hammer my stomach into mincemeat, he nods respectfully. “Very well, Miss Stranje. I shall send additional remuneration to you in the morning.” His wife gasps, and indignation squeals off her like sour yellow gas. He turns to me and reaches for my hand. Every instinct in me shouts to pull back. Do not let him touch you. It has been many long years since I have seen anything resembling a fatherly mannerism from him. I am terrified of what I might feel, and yet even more terrified of what I might miss if I pull away. A sharp intake of breath crosses my lips, but then all other sounds cease. I no longer hear laughter or talking from the guests in the ballroom. No footsteps. No shuffling or clattering. The hum of impenetrable silence muffles everything else as I watch him lift my hand. My father bows slightly, the way all the other gentlemen did as they came through the receiving line. He holds my fingers loosely as if we are mere acquaintances. “You look lovely, Maya, very much like your mother.” He straightens, and I think I hear a whiff of sound—a soft keening, low and mournful. Except it is so brief and distant, I cannot be certain. “You have her fire in your eyes. She would be proud.” He squares his shoulders. “I’m pleased to see you making your way in the world—flourishing on your own.” Flourishing? Hardly. Unable to summon enough breath for words, I dip in an English curtsey that has become a habit. When I am able to speak, it sounds embarrassingly weak and fluttery, like a frightened bird. “I am glad you think so, my lord.” He lets go of my gloved fingers, offers his arm to his wife, and leaves me. Without a backward glance, he walks away. His measured gait is aloof and elegant, no different from that of a hundred other strangers in this room. The hollow thump of his heels as he abandons me hurts far worse than anything the spiteful woman he married has ever said. I wish now that I had not allowed him to touch me. I ought to have run from the house—anything would be better than this grinding loneliness that darkens my insides. I would rather rip out my heart than to fall into the chasm threatening to swallow me. I’ve been in that dark place before. The way he dismisses me without a second thought sends me spiraling back to India. I’m there again, in the stifling heat of his sickroom. Worried, I sneaked in to see him and stood quietly at the foot of his bed. Fear thumped through me like an elephant march as I watched him thrash under the sheets, fevered with the same epidemic that had only days earlier taken my mother’s life. I remember his wide-eyed alarm when he noticed me standing by his bedpost. I was only six, but I can still hear his hoarse shout for the servants. “Get her out of here. Send her away!” “No! No. I want to stay with you. Let me stay with you,” I begged. Crying, I clung to his bedpost, refusing to leave. “Go! Take the chi—” Retching cut his rebuke short. Next came a string of muffled curses. “Out!” “Come, miss. You cannot stay. Your father is very sick.” Servants dragged me, kicking and screaming from his room. Later, my ayah told me Papa wanted me to stay away so that I would not catch his illness. I will never know if that was true or not. My ayah may have been trying to spare my feelings. I do remember telling her I didn’t care if I got sick and died. I would rather stay with my papa. “No, kanya. No, little girl. You must not say such things.” She brushed my hair until it gleamed like my papa’s black boots. “You will live, child. I see this. The future blooms in you. You are gende ka phool.” She pulled a marigold out of a small vase and placed it in my palms. “Protector. Sun lion.” I touched the bright orange petals and thought to myself, what good is such a small flower. It is too fragile—too easily crushed. I was right. The next day, on Papa’s orders, his secretary, a fusty man with little patience for children, escorted me to my grandmother’s family in the north. My father sent me away from the only world I’d ever known. On that long trip, loneliness and hurt chewed me up. Why would he send me so far away? Was he too sick? Or was his grief too heavy for him to share in mine? Perhaps my black hair and olive skin reminded him too much of my dead mother. Or was it because she was gone that he no longer cared for me? Why? We traveled for days and days, journeying toward the great mountains, land of the five rivers, and all the way there, sadness gnawed on my soul. Few Europeans had ever ventured to the old villages and cities along the rivers. People were wary and distrustful of my white escort. He had difficulty finding a guide, and even when he did, we made several wrong turns. I did not care. Numb with grief, certain my father would die, or that he no longer loved me. I was already a lost child. What did it matter if we wandered forever? After several treacherous river crossings, our guide located my family’s village on the Tawi River. The weary attaché deposited me and my trunks in their midst and hurriedly left. I sat in the dirt beside my baggage, completely abandoned. The last ember of hope flickered inside me and blew out. Strangers, who I would learn later were my cousins and aunts, gathered in a circle around me, staring, their faces ripe with curiosity and suspicion. Half-English, half-Indian, I was an unwelcome oddity, who belonged nowhere. I sat in the center of their circle, feeling like an oddly painted lizard. Did they judge me poisonous? Or edible? A woman’s joyous cry startled me. Astonished, I stood up. In my exhausted state, amidst all the confusion, I briefly mistook her voice for my mother’s. I stared at the old woman running toward me. The voice, although eerily similar, did not belong to my dead mother. It belonged to my grandmother. She burst through her gathered kinsman, took one look at me, and opened her arms. Though I learned later she had only visited me once as an infant, she kissed my forehead and hugged me, rocking and murmuring in Hindi. In tears, she declared to all my cousins and aunts that I was her daughter returned home. Grandmother, my naanii, did not care about my mixed blood. She had no qualms about teaching her half-caste granddaughter the ways of her people. Others in our village were not so quick to trust me. I was half-English, after all. But out of respect for my grandmother, they kept their opinions to themselves. Naanii taught me how to make bread, how to mix healing herbs, braid hair, sew, and a thousand other things. More importantly, Naanii taught me to listen. To hear the world around us. Over and over, she told me, “All life sings a song if we will but stop and listen.” I remember standing on the banks of the river washing clothes. “Close your eyes, little bird,” Naanii said. “Quiet your mind and tell me what you hear?” I pointed to her kinswoman standing in the shallows scrubbing her laundry against the stones. “I hear Kanishka humming a contented tune.” Grandmother, ever patient, smiled and asked, “And the stones, little one, what do they sing?” I laughed and closed my eyes tight, listening for subtler vibrations. “They are old, Naanii. Their voices are quiet and deep. I can hardly hear them. Kanishka sings too loudly, so does the wind in the trees and grass.” I opened my eyes. “And the river is especially loud.” “Ahh.” She nodded, wrung out the cloth she’d been laundering, and set it in her basket. “It is true. Water is bold and brash. Very noisy.” She galloped her fingers through the air. “Always rushing to and fro. River thinks she is all-powerful. You must try harder, my child. Listen for the calm voice of the stones.” She laid a smooth pebble in my palm and pointed to one of the large rocks jutting up, splitting the current of the river. “Do you feel it? The mighty waters push and shove with the strength of a hundred horses, yet that boulder is unmoved. Hear how deep it hums, how sure it is of its connection with mother earth.” Years later, I would hear the stones sing, but not that day. That day I heard my grandmother, not just her words; I heard the unfathomable vibrations of her soul. It was as if she was as ancient and knowing as the stones of which she spoke. I wish I were still standing on the banks of the Tawi River. Instead, I am here in London with too many sounds roaring in my ears—the babble of our many guests, the rumble of the city seeping up through the bones of this house. My father has taken me half a world away from the person who loves me best in all the world. Even though she is thousands of miles away, I close my eyes, hoping to catch my grandmother’s distant pulse. I try to block out all the other noises, searching for those melodic threads that run between us even at this great distance. “Maya? Maya! Are you all right?” Lady Jane rests her hand on my shoulder and startles me out of my search. She and Sera stare at me expectantly. “The musicians are tuning up for a quadrille. We are about to return to the dancing. But you seem shaken, what’s wrong?” I look at Lady Jane, wondering how to answer. I am not all right, as she phrases it, but what else can I say, here in this jangling place. “Yes, I hear the music,” I say, and try to smile as if it is an important observation, as if the frivolity of dancing lightens my heart. “Hmm,” she says skeptically, and takes my hand, pulling me along with her like the mighty river carrying a piece of driftwood. I feel her questions clamoring to be asked, but luckily, I also know Lady Jane will restrain herself. This is not the time or place for that sort of discussion. She glances around the room and spots Alexander Sinclair. Immediately she brightens, and I feel joy pulse through her fingertips. “Come.” She leads the way and, arm in arm, we face both the music and crowd together. Other books in series: Title: REFUGE FOR MASTERMINDS (Stranje House #3) Author: Kathleen Baldwin Pub. Date: May 23, 2017 Publisher: Tor Teen Format: Hardcover, Paperback, eBook Pages: 352 Find it: Goodreads, Amazon, Kindle, Barnes & Noble, iBooks, Kobo, TBD It’s 1814. Napoleon has escaped his imprisonment on Elba. Britain is at war on four fronts. And at Stranje House, a School for Unusual Girls, five young ladies are secretly being trained for a world of spies, diplomacy, and war… Napoleon’s invasion of England is underway and someone at Stranje House is sneaking information to his spies. Lady Jane Moore is determined to find out who it is. If anyone can discover the traitor, it is Jane—for, according to headmistress Emma Stranje, Lady Jane is a mastermind. Jane doesn’t consider herself a mastermind. It’s just that she tends to grasp the facts of a situation quickly, and by doing so, she’s able to devise and implement a sensible course of action. Is Jane enough of a mastermind to save the brash young American inventor Alexander Sinclair, her friends at Stranje House, and possibly England itself? Title: EXILE FOR DREAMERS (Stranje House #2) Author: Kathleen Baldwin Pub. Date: May 24, 2016 Publisher: Tor Teen Format: Hardcover, Paperback, eBook Find it: Goodreads, Amazon, Kindle, Barnes & Noble, iBooks, Kobo, TBD A School for Unusual Girls is the first captivating installment in the Stranje House series for young adults by award-winning author Kathleen Baldwin. #1 New York Times bestselling author Meg Cabot calls this romantic Regency adventure "completely original and totally engrossing." Tess can't run far enough or fast enough to escape the prophetic dreams that haunt her. Dreams bring nothing but death and grief, and Tess refuses to accept that she may be destined for the same madness that destroyed her mother. Until her disturbing dreams become the only means of saving Lord Ravencross, the man she loves, and her friends at Stranje House from Lady Daneska and her lover, the Ghost-agent of Napoleon, who has escaped from Elba. Can the young ladies of Stranje House prevail once more? Or is England destined to fall into the hands of the power-mad dictator? "Enticing from the first sentence." -New York Times Book Review A School for Unusual Girls is a great next read for fans of Gail Carriger's Finishing School series and Robin LaFevers' His Fair Assassin series. Title: A SCHOOL FOR UNUSUAL GIRLS (Stranje House #1) Author: Kathleen Baldwin Pub. Date: May 19, 2015 Publisher: Tor Teen Pages: 352 Formats: Hardcover, Paperback, eBook Find it: Goodreads, Amazon, Kindle, Barnes & Noble, iBooks, Kobo, TBD It’s 1814. Napoleon is exiled on Elba. Europe is in shambles. Britain is at war on four fronts. And Stranje House, a School for Unusual Girls, has become one of Regency England’s dark little secrets. The daughters of the beau monde who don't fit high society’s constrictive mold are banished to Stranje House to be reformed into marriageable young ladies. Or so their parents think. In truth, Headmistress Emma Stranje, the original unusual girl, has plans for the young ladies—plans that entangle the girls in the dangerous world of spies, diplomacy, and war. After accidentally setting her father’s stables on fire while performing a scientific experiment, Miss Georgiana Fitzwilliam is sent to Stranje House. But Georgie has no intention of being turned into a simpering, pudding-headed, marriageable miss. She plans to escape as soon as possible—until she meets Lord Sebastian Wyatt. Thrust together in a desperate mission to invent a new invisible ink for the English war effort, Georgie and Sebastian must find a way to work together without losing their heads—or their hearts... About the Author: Award-winning author, Kathleen Baldwin, loves adventure in books and in real life. She taught rock climbing in the Rockies, survival camped in the desert, was stalked by a mountain lion, lost an argument with a rattlesnake, enjoyed way too many classes in college, fell in love at least a dozen times, and married her very own hero. Together they’ve raised four free-spirited adventurous children. SCHOOL FOR UNUSUAL GIRLS is her first historical romance for Young Adults. Awarded 2016 Spirit of Texas, it is also a Junior Library Guild selection. Publisher’s Lunch listed it in 2015 YA BookBuzz. Scholastic licensed it for book fairs. Ian Bryce, producer of Spiderman, Saving Private Ryan, and other notable films optioned the series for film. #1 New York Times bestselling author Meg Cabot calls Kathleen’s romantic Regency adventure, “completely original and totally engrossing.” Website | Blog | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Pinterest | Goodreads Giveaway: 1 winner will receive a finished copy of HARBOR FOR THE NIGHTINGALE. US Only. a Rafflecopter giveaway Tour Schedule: Week One: 9/23/2019- Caffeine & Composition- Excerpt 9/24/2019- Dazzled by Books- Excerpt 9/25/2019- Two Chicks on Books- Excerpt 9/26/2019- Wishful Endings- Review 9/27/2019- Fire and Ice- Review Week Two: 9/30/2019- Don't Judge, Read- Interview 10/1/2019- Smada's Book Smack- Review 10/2/2019- Lisa Loves Literature- Review 10/3/2019- Book Briefs- Review 10/4/2019- BookHounds YA- Interview

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