#I’m listening to neon moon

[sad-emo-dip-dye]

outlaw cowboy chuuya local lawyer dazai town sheriff kunikida

[jnstudios2]

Hello sorry to bother you with this all of sudden ,and this might be coming out of nowhere, and I’m not trying to force you or be pushy but I m trying to get more people into this show with great potential. If your not interested it’s fine but Have you heard of or watched moon girl and devil dinosaur? Season 2 comes out February 2. 

The main character i love she gives me autistic vibes I’m autistic. The show has interesting characters, action ,great music, and animation ,good themes and representation, Anime references, it even has an eyecatch season 2 is going to be more story driven if you find that interesting. 

It be good if you watch the first 2 season 2 episode when they air so the ratings will be higher. And watch the other season 2 episodes when they air.

I think Disney might be trying to sabotage the show with them probably dropping 14 episodes on Disney + on February 3. They did similar with season 1 and the ratings where low ,please watch season 2 episodes when they air on. But more importantly also watch it on Disney + on feb 3 and when they air it on YouTube. Unfortunately they are dropping 14 episodes on Disney + so watch them all in one day but also when they air the first time.

I’m not just saying only cable just also. I’m saying please support this show. Despite that it still won 5 Emmys. Also if it’s no trouble could if it alright with you spread the word about this show to others you know like either online or irl. Time is limited!

I love this show! You kidding!

I highly recommend of watching this show!

I’ll definitely be watching season two ,I enjoy this show and the music so much, and I highly support this show and the art style reminds me of a comic book.

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

Danny Phantom doesn’t want to be king.

And the Observants also don’t want him to be king.

Frankly, very VERY few people want him to be king, dead or alive.

But opening the sarcophagus, even if it’s closed NOW, disrupted some magic protections. Until those can be fixed, summoning spells need to be answered by SOMEONE. Not all of summons, just like—once a month or so. Because if they don’t let that power outlet happen, all of those summon magics build up and suddenly Pariah Dark reigns again. Answering the summon basically dispels the built up magic, like opening a dam.

Again, Danny doesn’t WANT to do this either, but everyone else involved is a bad choice. He won’t even be named prince, because THEN that implies he COULD be king. He needs a title, of some kind, a position in the court, no matter how tenuous, so he can do the thing. Something where no one in their right or even WRONG mind would think to try to kill him for the position or try to marry him or something equally annoying to deal with.

So.

He becomes the Ghost Court Jester.

He even gets a fancy little outfit upgrade when he’s summoned, all black and white bell hats and shoes, a stupid little ruffle collar and black parachute pants, even face paint with a tiny dot of glowing neon green at the tip of his nose. The works. Better yet, if he hasn’t been ‘unsummoned’, his human form is just the exact same costume with swapped colors. He can change into his normal outfits, but until that circle has been disrupted, the next summon, or the next full or new moon, he’s stuck into the outfit when he first transforms from either form.

The Phantom Jester, which is a title more intimidating than Danny appears to be if we are to be honest, cracks jokes and never, EVER takes the summons seriously.

“Listen, I just had to get my hours in and it’s the last day of the lunar month, you got lucky I came at all.”

“I got the position by virtue of not wanting to go to Time Jail for a crime I technically didn’t commit and technically probably won’t but, well, eyes are the beholder of the grudge or something else equally cryptic to make you mad.”

“Is this a slumber party? … do you have cake? Bummer. Well, enjoy the bleeding walls then.”

“Whether I help you or not is entirely dependent on how well of a run down you can give me on this book I have to read that I have not at all touched.”

“Explain the reason in three sentences or less. I suggest less. And if it’s stupid I’m hitting you—oh you think this circle can contain me? Haha. It won’t.”

“Is that chicken blood? Why?? What did the chickens do to you?”

There are props in his costume but he literally never knows what he’s gonna pull out of his sleeves. Danny can’t even do a balloon animal and knows exactly zero card tricks, which would be more of an issue if the cards weren’t the size of a dinner plate. He barely even juggles and he’s honestly probably just utilizing his rarely-used telekinetic powers, but he does give people flowers if they haven’t been a total jerk. And if those flowers are like, rare and have seeds for propagation, well… he literally wouldn’t know. No, really, he doesn’t. He gets summoned by at least two ecology departments and he has no idea why, I mean, if he had a nickel—

He also had pies and is NOT afraid to use them.

[fifarts]

“it’s nice to know you work alone” 🪐⚡️

(click for better quality, more info and alt text below cut)

another jupeter piece and some recommended songs from my jupeter playlist!

I have synesthesia which means my brain associates certain audio and music with different colors and shapes, so I worked a lot with the colors on this piece and especially the background to kind of translate some of the visualizations I get when I listen to these songs together! If you read the lyrics of both you’ll see why I heavily associate them with juno and peter!

I have another piece that I’ll hopefully post circa S3 that goes along with There’s No Secrets This Year (the most jupeter song ever) and a comic for Waltz in E-Major, Op. 15 “Moon Waltz” by Cojum Dip that I really want to work on soon! My playlist is still a work in progress and I’m currently in the process of moving my spotify accounts around but as of right now the full playlist link is here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6SP3sUjzSTBCPhouCe4xXY?si=277Hd2pqTGmRzPLcSx6dvQ

I organized it partially by season so hopefully it’s easier to understand the character connections of the songs. (The first song of the playlist is an instrumental guitar piece that my dad’s guitarist is doing as a side project which is super cool and you should definitely check out his stuff (and also please send some streams his way) If you love vocal-like sexy guitar riffs and weird time signatures and video game-esque music, Vision Swords is for you lol)

Alt Text:

A lineless digital art painting of Juno Steel and Peter Nureyev from the Penumbra Podcast. Juno's face is visible in a profile view as he holds his blaster in his outstretched hand. Juno is a short Black and South Asian person with dark brown skin, a scar across his nose bridge, and black hair that is lit with purple lighting. Juno has short locs and a high undercut with a star design shaved in. He is wearing a tan trenchcoat, a white button up, and black tie. He is also wearing a cochlear implant, hot pink star earrings, and hot pink acrylic nails. Peter stands behind him with his face partially obscured. He is a tall South Asian man with medium brown skin and dark shoulder length brown hair. He is pointing his blaster and wearing a black suit jacket with gold details. The background of the painting is hot pink, neon purple, and bright blue. The background colors mix in with one another in a perspective blur from the center of the painting. [end alt text]

Thank you so much for the support while I’ve been on hiatus! I’m going to college this fall for Robotics Engineering and I’ve been dealing with some pretty big health problems as well (I literally just got out of surgery today lol) which has left little time for art (fanart or otherwise) 😅 Love ya!

[moralesmilesanhour]

teamwork (makes the dream work...?) pt. 4

Summary:

wc: 1k+

A/N: um hii sorry for updating a lil late 😅 but I got really into writing this esp at the end. We're almost done! As always feel free to comment your thoughts and reactions, or send them to my inbox! Thanks for reading :)

prev. next

Song: It's Only a Paper Moon - Ella Fitzgerald (totally optional to listen while you read, if you like that sort of thing)

The small plastic bag carrying your lunch swung from your wrist as you pushed the door to the counselor’s office open.

"Thanks again for helping me organize around here," said the woman standing beside you.

"No problem, Ms. Keene!"

By the time you stepped inside, Miles was already sitting at the round table in the middle of the room.

The boy spoke first as soon as your eyes met.

"Hey," he greeted you flatly. His stare wasn't too far off from the look of curiosity you get from a stray cat that isn't certain whether you're trying to give it food or not; neither malicious nor particularly excited.

You tilted your head in surprise.

"Hey, you in trouble or something?"

Miles shook his head.

"Ms. Keene lets me have lunch in here."

"You two know each other?" The tall, dark-skinned woman asked. Though she had asked you both, she beamed at Miles as she spoke. He glanced back and forth between you and the woman.

"Kinda."

She clasped her manicured hands together. 

"I'm glad you're starting to make friends again. That's progress. Enjoy your lunch," Ms. Keene said as she spun on her heel to leave, her short bob cut bouncing along with her.

"And put on those glasses!"

Miles rolled his eyes as the door shut with a click.

"Everybody's on your case about these glasses, dude. Just put 'em on," you said as you sat down next to him.

"Don't need 'em."

"Okay," you pointed to the analog clock hanging directly across from him, "tell me what time it is without using your phone."

He scoffed.

"Easy, it's…"

The boy stood, and squinted so hard that his nose scrunched. He heard you laughing through your nose behind him after a minute and soon dropped back down to his seat, hands raised in resignation.

"Alright, you got me. But who's looking at the damn clock all day?"

"Sitting in the back of the classroom with no glasses on is nuts, Miles. What's so bad about them?”

Miles pouted in indignation, "They make me look like Steve Urkel.”

“They can’t be that bad,” you said, grabbing the case from next to him and prying it open. “Lemme see.”

“Nope.”

“Just this once!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Please?”

The boy sighed, then took the glasses from you with a wary expression. He looked at them like they were a moldy piece of bread before finally putting them on.

“Happy?”

Neon green color aside, the glasses were truly not that bad. The thick lenses framed his face and made him look younger. The boy blinked, awaiting your verdict.

“Awww, you look like a little nerd!”

“Don't start with that,” Miles shook his head, a grin spreading across his face in spite of himself. He swiped them off of his face and took the case from you.

“It’s not a bad thing,” you said over a bite of your sandwich, “you look cute in them.”

He froze, a hand instinctively flying up to scratch the nape of his neck before turning his gaze in the other direction. You could still see the impression of his dimples peeking out from the side.

“Don’t get a big head over it, now,” you elbowed him gently. He quickly changed the subject.

“I’m finna tell Ms. Keene that you’re distracting me.”

Miles was now hunched over his notebook again. He had his homework sheet covering one page, but you could tell he was sketching. When you tried to look over his shoulder, he frantically shut it closed.

“Can you not be nosy for five minutes?”

“My fault, bro, damn.”

Miles continued to draw quietly for almost the entirety of calculus, never once allowing you to peek at it. He didn’t pause until you lightly tapped his arm.

The boy flinched at the sudden contact, but you had his attention.

“I’m stuck on this problem you wrote, just this one. Help me out?”

He tapped his pen lightly on the desk in consideration. Finally, he shrugged, closing the notebook and sliding it to the side.

“Sure.”

You placed the worksheet between you and Miles, where your desks met.

“It’s this one. I’m not getting the solution you got,” you explained, placing a finger on the offending equation. 

Miles peered closely at it. His braids nearly brushed the desk as his head moved.

“You gettin’ it wrong because you forgot to distribute here,” he pointed. “Everything has to distribute.”

You nodded as the gears in your head got to turning again. “Thanks.”

-

“Ma!” Miles whined as he took his plate of yellow rice and peas from the table.

“I’m just saying! La chica es muy linda, sigues mirándola. Don’t do anything crazy up there, understand?”

You were far from fluent, but the first bit of the brown woman’s sentence made a shy smile grace your features.

“This looks so good, thanks Mrs. Morales.” you said as you grabbed your own plate, carefully carrying it with both hands. 

“No problem, baby,” the woman replied, gently smacking the back of her son’s head before sending you both upstairs. “Same time as usual.”

“Your mom’s nice,” you remarked once you entered Miles’ room.

“You just sayin’ that ‘cuz she gassed your head up,” Miles laughed.

“Whatever. I’m ‘bout to fuck this plate up!”

“Not on my bed, I hope.”

The boy gave you a warning glance.

“Relax, you see me sitting?” 

You blew on a spoonful of rice before trying it, and the flavor nearly made your eyes pop out of your skull.

“Your momma went crazy in that kitchen.”

“M-hm,” was all Miles could reply as he shoveled the rice into his mouth, already halfway through the plate.

Soon both of your plates had been scraped clean, and you started working after taking the dirty dishes downstairs to wash. All three calculus problems had been completed, but a small squabble broke out over the appearance of the slideshow that Miles had put together.

“It looks so boring,” you complained. “At least make the background a different color–”

“Uh-unh, you gon’ make it hard as fuck to read. I say we keep it simple,” the boy swatted your hand away from the keyboard.

“Make the title dark magenta, and you got a deal.”

He sighed, “Fine. It’s legible, I guess.”

It was still only 7:30 by the time the project was finished, and you didn’t feel like leaving behind the warmth of Miles’ home just yet.

“Can you play some music?” 

Miles spun around in his swivel chair.

“What kind?”

“I dunno, whatever you listen to,” you tilted your head at him quizzically. “What do you listen to?”

“Um,” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small Bluetooth speaker, setting it on his desk. “Just…whatever I feel like. Lots of stuff.”

He carefully laid down on his bed next to you, making sure to maintain at least a few inches of distance.

Old jazz music began to float through the air.

“You like Ella?”

“Yeah,” he said at a near-whisper. “...I do now. Forgot what this song was called.”

“‘It’s Only A Paper Moon,’” you answered. “From ‘The War Years’. Beautiful record.”

Miles snuck a glance at the side of your face while you stared up at the ceiling. He liked the dreamy, far-off way you’d said the title.

“You sound old as fuck right now,” he commented. “Record…”

This made you burst into laughter, and Miles decided that he didn’t mind that sound, either.

“My momma always calls ‘em ‘records’, so I picked up the habit.”

“I like how you talk.”

You finally turned your head and met the boy’s eyes. The small grin playing on his face wasn’t a teasing one.

“‘How I talk?’”

“When you’re not grilling me with questions like a cop? Yeah, it’s nice.”

Not sure what to do with this new information, you turn your gaze back up to the ceiling.

“You’re a strange one, Miles,” was all you could say.

There was a brief pause before you asked,“What did you mean by ‘now’?”

Miles raised an eyebrow. “What’d I say about complete sentences?”

“Sorry,” you rolled your eyes. “You said you liked this song now, you didn’t like it before?”

He was silent for a good, long, ten seconds before answering.

“I used to not be super into jazz. Dad used to play that shit on the radio, driving me to school. I hated having to hear it the entire ride,” he laughed. “I know he’s somewhere making fun of my ass now.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, wondering if you should offer comforting words, or your condolences. Knowing Miles – at least a little – you decided against it.

“I used to listen to Ella songs when the house got too loud, or while I was eating lunch.”

“They let you listen to music down there?”

“Nah, I was eating upstairs with the English teacher after she saw me sitting by myself.”

“You still sit by yourself?”

Shaking your head, you answered, “I usually sit with Tianna, she’s usually my calc partner. This week’s kind of an exception.”

“So if it wasn’t for her, I woulda finished this shit three days ago,” he joked.

You placed your hand over your heart and gasped dramatically. “You mean you don’t enjoy being graced by my presence?”

“Hm,” Miles conceded, “I enjoy it a little.”

“Is this your way of saying we besties now?”

“Whoah, never mind. You killed the moment.”

“That was a moment?”

“Nope, forget everything I just said.”

-

Fun trivia since we're almost at the end: what book do you think Miles and the MC are reading in English class? There's no prize for answering but i'll be really excited about it. Thanks again for reading!

Taglist:

@thisaccountisrandomsstuff

@sizeablysized

@itsnotino

@asteria33

@kissmxcheek

@urmotherswhor3

@mrs-morales

@sukisprettyface

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[starhvney]

What music do you think garroth Travis or Laurance would listen to👀👀

𝐌𝐘𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒' 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐇𝐂'𝐒

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: laurance, garroth, and travis

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: for some reason i had some trouble narrowing down what they'd listen to, but here's my headcanons!

𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

genuinely his liked songs playlist will give you whiplash. he really loves some oldies (a mix of pop, rock, and jazz), and then suddenly you catch a little of his 2000s rock and emo music (remember, he used to think the shadow knights looked and seemed cool), and then a little bit of alt/indie.

bro’s got a “little bit of this, a little bit of that!” ass playlist. here’s a few examples:

blue train by john coltrane

that’s life by frank sinatra

maneater by daryl hall and john oates

psycho killer by talking heads

head over heels/broken by tears for fears

house of the rising sun by the animals

come as you are by nirvana

hysteria by muse

risk by deftones

cherry waves by deftones

somebody told me by the killers

back to me by the all-american rejects

for you the moon by basement

today by smashing pumpkins

drive by incubus

hearing damage by thom yorke

weird fishes/arpeggi by radiohead

𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇

i feel like he’s the type of guy to happily listen to everyone else’s music, and he doesn’t really complain about it either. but if we’re talking about the main music he listens to on his own, he really likes alternative/indie-pop, and generally listens to upbeat, feel-good songs. he kinda discovered some of the more indie artists and songs when he overheard it playing from vylad’s room one day.

here’s some examples of his favorites that he listens to:

tongue tied by grouphouse 

everybody talks by neon trees

she’s kinda hot by 5 seconds of summer

electric love by børns 

out of my league by fitz and the tantrums

misery by maroon 5

animal by neon trees

electric feel by mgmt

my kind of woman by mac demarco

honeypie by jawney

sit next to me by foster the people

lover is a day by cuco 

honey by johnny balik 

sink into the floor by feng suave

gimme love by joji 

the less i know the better by tame impala

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒

yet another one with diverse music taste. he’ll go from hip hop and rock to alternative to cunty kpop songs to cute kpop songs and then to theatre songs. i’m not sure if i’ve mentioned it before but i really love the idea that travis not only listens to kpop but memorizes and practiced the dances in his room. i believe i got the idea from @milkeywaylady on tiktok lol.

his list is even less coherent than laurance's. but anyways, here’s some examples for him:

hey ya! by outkast

promiscuous (feat. timbaland) by nelly furtado

the way i are by timbaland

heaven and back by chase atlantic

me and your mama by childish gambino 

life of the party by the weeknd

selfish by pnb rock

into your heart by trevor something

plastic beach by gorrillaz

alone, together by the strokes

float on by modest mouse

run devil run by girls’ generation

너 때문에 미쳐 (you drive me crazy) by t-ara

pop! by nayeon

attention by new jeans

try again by d.ear and jaehyun

bohemian rhapsody by queen (LMAOO you can’t tell me he wouldn’t know all the lyrics)

sincerely, me from dear evan hansen

a guy that i’d kinda be into from be more chill

first burn from hamilton

[wzrd-wheezes]

Our Band. Part 1

Remus Lupin x Reader Band AU

AN - hello i've been absolutely itching to write this fic since I started thinking about it. I'm sorry if not a great deal happens in this part but I just wanted to set the characters up for the next parts. Pls let me know your thoughts and if you would like another part of this because I have lot of ideas.

1.7k words

Part 2

The rain pattered against the windows of the coffee shop; it had been storming outside for most of the day and the place had been rammed with people stowing inside to escape the weather. As the day dwindled away, so did most of the customers leaving the café almost empty as it neared midnight. Y/N was working a late shift and was currently busying herself wiping down the counter and listening to the radio that was humming lowly in the background. She snapped to attention as the bell above the door jingled as someone walked in. She recognised the man as one of her regulars who often came to the coffee shop late at night. His hair was plastered to his forehead from the rain, and he ran his hand through it, ruffling it up as he walked to the counter. 

“Hey. What can I get for you?” Y/N asked, tying her apron around her waist. The man looked up, a smile forming on his lips. 

“A black coffee, please.” his voice came out a bit husky and he coughed to clear his throat, “could you put some extra sugar in it? A lot?” Y/N nodded and turned around to make him his drink. She handed it to him and told him his total. He handed her a note and when she gave him his change, he quickly dropped it into the tip jar that sat on the counter. 

“What are you doing working so late, anyway?” he asked, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of his coffee.  

“I prefer doing the late shifts.” Y/N shrugged, wiping up some coffee that had spilled onto the side, “not many people like doing them but I love them.” 

“I understand completely. Can’t beat the peace at this time of night. Just you and the coffee machine – and all the drunk blokes that come in to get a coffee to sober up before they go home to their wives.” The man chuckled sarcastically. Y/N let out a laugh. 

“They’re harmless. What are you doing out this late then?”  

“That’s a great question.” he said, “I couldn’t sleep.” his voice was a bit raspy, and he ran a hand through his hair. 

“Ah, yes, coffee – the perfect remedy for someone struggling to sleep.” she joked, rolling her eyes playfully. 

“Mhm. A black coffee with four teaspoons of sugar at two in the morning seemed like an appropriate cure.” He deadpanned. 

“Seems like a solid choice to me. Absolutely normal in my opinion.” 

“Absolutely normal.” he confirmed, “What’s your name by the way? You never introduced yourself,” 

“It’s Y/N,” she pointed to her name badge that was pinned to her apron and laughed. 

“Well. It’s nice to meet you Y/N. I can’t believe that with all the times I’ve come in here I’ve never once asked for your name.” he took another sip of his coffee, “I’m Remus. I’m sure that you’ll remember me.” 

“You’ll forever be remembered as that bloke that came in at two in the morning and ordered a black coffee with four sugars.” Y/N joked, “Maybe I’ll ask my boss to name a drink after you on the menu.” She saw Remus’s eyes light up when she said that. 

“I’m obviously joking.” she quickly added. Remus’s clutched his chest dramatically, faking being hurt. He leaned further onto the counter, resting his chin on one hand and holding his coffee cup in the other. The neon lights overhead illuminated his face, the shadows from his eyelashes casting crescent moon shapes onto his cheeks. His soft brown eyes looked tired, and he had dark smudges under his eyes – remnants of many late nights. Remus swilled the last bit of coffee around in his cup before drinking it.  

“I know, I know, I’m irresistible. It’s hard not to remember me.” a smirk played on his lips. His eyes danced lightly, twinkling beneath the fluorescent lighting. 

“I genuinely cannot tell if you’re joking or if you’re really that full of yourself.” 

“Oh, it’s a bit of both. It’s called confidence, Y/N. I’m sure you’ve heard of it before.” he mocked. 

“And you seem to have bags of it.” 

“You seem to like it.” he shrugged, “You haven’t looked away since I entered, love.” 

“Yeah, only ‘cause you’ve been stood here bothering me,” she quipped, “Now, do you need anything else, or can I get on with my job?” 

“Another black coffee and then I’ll leave you alone.” he held his hands up defensively.  

He stayed true to his word, as soon as she handed him his coffee he retreated to a table in the corner of the room. He sank down into a chair, propping his boot clad feet on the chair opposite him, the battered leather resting against the plush material. He shrugged off his leather jacket that was still damp from the storm and draped it over the chair. His hair fell messily around his face, some pieces curling up slightly as they dried from the rain. Every now and then he took a sip from his coffee, humming a tune softly under his breath.  

Remus must have sat there for a while, staring at the raindrops that raced down the window, completely in his own world. He only looked up when a familiar voice called out his name and smacked him playfully on the back. 

“There you are, Moony!” a dark-haired man spoke, appearing suddenly behind him, breaking Remus out of his trance, “I told you that he would be here, James!” 

“Sirius, what the fuck are you doing here?” Remus asked, his head whipping around to look at his friends. Sirius and James plopped themselves down on the sofa next to the armchair that Remus was sat in, the girl that was with them, perched herself on James’s knee. All four of them looked tired. Sirius was eyeing up the coffee that Remus was sipping.  

“Hey, Moony. Can I?” Sirius pointed to the coffee cup, his fingers itching to grab it. Remus raised his eyebrow and his lips pulled into a slight grimace. 

“No.” he said firmly. 

“Why so sour?” Sirius asked, his eyes looking at Remus and then darting around the coffee shop for a clue as to why he was being grumpy. “Oh my god. Did the pretty barista girl turn you down?” 

James snickered and the girl slapped him on the arm to shut him up. 

“Oh, sod off.” Remus rolled his eyes, dragging his coffee cup away from Sirius’s outstretched fingers, “I didn’t even ask her out for starters.”  

“C’mon, mate. She’d definitely want you.” Sirius said in a teasing fashion, his voice a bit more hushed than before. 

“Oh my god, Remus.” that girl that was sat on James’s lap spoke, “what if you’re losing your charm!” 

“Shut up, Lily.” Remus snapped, shooting her a look. The red-haired girl was unphased and just let out a laugh at her friends' grumpy behaviour. Remus drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair. 

Y/N couldn’t hear their conversation from where she was working but she looked over when she heard the group laugh. Sirius’ face grew red when he caught Y/N looking at the group. 

“Shit. She’s staring at us, mate.” Sirius whispered.  

Remus smirked, “No, really? I never would have guessed that.” he mumbled sarcastically. He glanced up at Y/N who was now making her way over to their table. Remus raised his eyebrows, taking a sip of his drink as he watched her approach. 

“Can I get you guys anything?” Y/N asked. The boys fell quiet. Remus’s eyes were on her, his coffee cup halfway to his lips. It seemed like he wanted to say something, a small smile on his lips. Yet, he didn’t. As he glanced at his friends, his fingers gripped his cup, his knuckles whitening as he squeezed it. Sirius looked at James with a panicked expression on his face.  

“Yeah, I'll just get a latte, please. Seen as Remus is paying.” James grinned cheekily and looked at Remus who flipped him off. 

“I’ll get the same.” said Sirius. 

“And me.” added Lily. Y/N nodded and disappeared to get their drinks. She returned a short while later with their mugs and set them down on the table. Remus pressed a note into her hand and told her to keep the change.  

Y/N’s eyes travelled down to the faded black t-shirt that Remus was wearing. She hadn’t noticed it earlier when he had his jacket on. It was oversized on him, hanging off of his shoulders and skimming over his stomach.  

“The Marauders?” she read, her eyes glancing over the words that were written on the front of his shirt, “what is that?” 

“A band.” Remus answered. 

“Our band.” Sirius confirmed, gesturing at his friends. 

“You wear your own bands merch?” Y/N laughed a little, “And you said earlier that you weren’t full of yourself.” she looked over at Remus and smirked. James, Sirius and Lily all let out a loud laugh at Y/N’s response. 

“I like this girl.” Lily said, smiling at her, “she’s fiery.” 

“In case you hadn’t noticed, Remus is slightly narcissistic.” James said jokingly. 

“James, babe, you literally wear the merch all the time.” Lily said, “You can’t talk.” James rolled his eyes and wrapped his arm around her. 

“Maybe I’ll check you guys out then.” Y/N said, “And then next time you come in you can bring me a t-shirt.”  

“And why would I do that?” Remus asked, his voice getting slightly flirty, “I can think of a few reasons.” Y/N raised her eyebrows at him, silently gesturing for him to elaborate.  

“Well, number one, I think you’d look really hot in it.” Remus said, “Number two, Sirius has been badgering me for a shirt for ages and it would really, really piss him off if I gave the one I’d been saving for him to you.” Sirius jabbed Remus in the ribs sharply. 

“Oi! You're saying that she would look better in it than I would?” Sirius asked, a shocked expression on his face.  

“Without a doubt, Pads.”  

[3d-wifey]

And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 2

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 4.2k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up!

Past (ii) - You

[16 & 17] - THE CAPITOL

The man before you has a ten-year streak of picking which tribute will win. Or, at least, that’s what he’s been claiming for the past twenty minutes or so. He said it has something to do with a lot of strategic planning and background research, but at this point, he could say it had something to do with the phases of the moon and you’d still nod along. You had tried to listen closely when he first started talking, but—well, okay, that’s a lie. Everything these Capitols say goes in one ear and out the other. Actually, it doesn’t even make it as far as the first ear.

“I know how it sounds, but it’s definitely more than luck, I can assure you.” His hand catches your shoulder in his attempt to hold your very fleeting attention, trailing down your back more and more in his excitement. “Well, I won’t bore you with the details, they might be a touch too complicated for you to understand.” He laughs and you smile coyly, sidestepping his touch. You’re no stranger to the heavy-handed petting of men and women with ulterior motives, no matter how innocent they try to play it off as being at first.

It’s nighttime in the arena, and most of the tributes are getting a spare few hours of sleep before the nightmare continues. Meaning this watch party has turned into an actual party. Honestly, you don’t even know how you got trapped in a conversation with this guy.

You sip delicately from your straw, eyes roaming over the room of mingling bodies and wall-length screens depicting the games live—eager to look at literally anything but him. And that’s when you spot him: your saving grace walking by himself with his hands in his pockets.

You make eye contact with Finnick and smile, waving him over. He only hesitates for a split second, but it’s long enough that you worry he’ll leave you to fend for yourself. A fear that’s only abated when he calls out your name and approaches with a mystified grin.

“Finn!” Thank god. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” You exclaim in the most sickeningly saccharine Capitol voice you can muster. He stares with wide blue-green eyes, bemusedly mouthing ‘Finn?’ at you but you ignore him in favor of turning back to the man who somehow looks more starstruck than before.

“I’m sorry, but Finnick here promised me a dance.” You explain, pulling an excuse out of your ass. You loop your arm with Finnick’s, practically hanging off of him, and you hope beyond hope that Finnick is good at reading social cues. It should be obvious, right? You’re a big neon sign flashing ‘HELP ME’ in no uncertain terms. 

“I did?” He asks, clearly confused at such a friendly greeting, but you stare up at him pleadingly and you must be projecting enough distress that he gets the memo. His back straightens in understanding and he smiles at the other man. “I did. But you know us victors, as slippery as an eel.” The other man lets out a flustered laugh. Finnick tilts his head as the band starts up. “Oh, I love this song. You don’t mind, do you? Thanks.”

You only have a few seconds to wonder what the hell an eel is before Finnick takes your glass out of your hand and hands it over to the sputtering man.

Your arms are still looped together as he leads you to the area where the other couples have decided to dance. 

“May I have this dance?” He teases and you get a strong sense of déjà vu.

“Well, we’re already here, aren’t we?” You laugh. You loop your arms behind his neck, and big hands grab either side of your waist. 

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.” He sighs, any chance of him being serious is shattered by his smirk.

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrow before raising to touch your hairline when he spins you.

“You know; you being a damsel in distress, and me saving you by being dashingly handsome and charming.” He clears his throat obnoxiously and puffs up his chest playfully. You’re sure if his hands were free he’d stretch to flex his muscles.

“Mhm,” You hum doubtfully. “Those are…certainly words that could be said with your name in the same sentence.” 

“...I think that’s the most roundabout way anyone has ever insulted me before.” His jaw drops before he grins down at you in amused surprise. You laugh at his face, sobering up a little.

“But thank you, Finnick. Seriously. I’m sorry I keep relying on you to pull me out. It’s just…” You don’t know what else to do.

“No, it’s alright. It’s fun, honestly. We rarely get to exercise the little authority we have over them.” His mouth shrugs instead of his shoulders, an endearing motion. “Better enjoy it while you can, right?’’ 

You nod.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He straightens up subtly as your probing stare looks him up and down. “Don’t take this the wrong way. You look great, but you don’t really seem like a suit kind of guy.” There’s nothing about his outward appearance that gives away how uncomfortable he is, but you only need to talk to him for a few minutes to know this isn’t the sort of thing he’d choose to wear. Not that he looks bad in it; far from it. The coat is tailored to sinch at his waist and a few buttons of his undershirt are undone. The color of the jacket complements his skin tone quite well and the little pocket square makes his eyes pop. 

“Thank you. Try telling that to my prep team.” He rolls his eyes. “Apparently, telling them I feel like a circus monkey playing dress up isn’t enough to dissuade them, so I might need a second opinion.”

Circus? "Wait, you’ve seen a monkey before?” You ask in awed disbelief. His mouth moves wordlessly at your enthusiasm.

“Well…not in person, per se.”

Past (ii) - Finnick

[16 & 17] - THE NEXT DAY

Finnick pours the rest of his drink into one of the potted plants he walks past, unbuttoning his suit coat once he's out of sight. This really is the last time he's letting his stylist dress him up in this getup. He rubs his temple in an attempt to soothe his growing migraine. As far as he's concerned, his job here is done. He has no reason to keep watching the games. His tributes already died. He pushes the doors open to the wide balcony and stops in his tracks. Of the many things Finnick expects to find out here, your crying isn't one of them. His first thought is that you're mourning your tributes. His second thought is that Snow got to you. It's an odd time for Snow to drop that kind of proposition on you. There are too many people here, too open for that kind of conversation. He scratches that out and circles back to his first thought. When he wasn't busy rubbing elbows with sponsors, he was keeping an eye out for your tributes. Switching periodically from his kids to yours and he can't, for the life of him, explain why. They got pretty far, considering they were malnourished and had no combat training. The boy got crushed under a tree after an earthquake and the girl stayed with him until he died. Though, it wasn't long before a Career shot an arrow through her head. The balcony door shuts behind him, and you whip around. Neither of you says anything as you rush to wipe your face. There’s an awkward lull as you both silently assess each other. "If you tell me it gets easier, I will push you off this balcony." He doesn't answer immediately, instead taking a moment to look at you. God, you're beautiful. Even now, wiping away your tears and your hurt, you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He doesn’t say any of that. "I wasn't going to." He raises his hands placatingly. He waits for you to tell him to leave, but the demand never comes. He almost offers to but decides against it for no other reason than not wanting to leave you out here alone. Instead, he moves closer and leans against the railing. It's quiet between you both as you try to hide your tears. He looks at you from the corner of his eye a few times and scratches an eyebrow with his thumb. It’s odd to think the two of you were laughing and enjoying each other’s company only yesterday. "I cried in a supply closet the first time my kids died." He glances at your surprised face before looking back down at the view. He clears his throat around the words trapped in his throat. He’s never told anyone this before, he’s never wanted to. "A fourteen-year-old girl named Dahlia, and a sixteen-year-old boy named Nyle. They didn't even make it out of the Cornucopia." Nyle was decapitated by a tribute from One and Dahlia's throat was slit by a tribute from Seven. Finnick remembers crying so hard that he threw up in a mop bucket. "Why are you telling me this?" That is a good question. One with an answer Finnick doesn’t want to look too closely at, though it might—scratch that, it definitely has something to do with your big watery eyes staring up at him ingenuously. 

"Your first game as a mentor is always the hardest, and it doesn't get easier. But,” he shrugs and pulls the artfully folded, blue handkerchief out of his breast pocket, and hands it to you. Turns out this suit is good for something, "you do learn what to expect. You get used to that hurt, build up a tolerance to it." At least, he hopes so. This is his third year as a mentor and the burn is still there. How much longer until he tries to extinguish it by using substances? The Morphlings lasted two and four years, respectively. Haymitch lasted two months. You look between him and the handkerchief for a second before using it to wipe at your eyes. "It's completely different than being in the games. It's different watching." You whisper, barely loud enough to be heard over the wind. "Yeah. It is.” That's another thing they don't mention when you become a victor. The after is often worse than the during. It’s a thought he had when he saw you at your Victor Tour celebration. He doesn’t know what exactly made him ask you to dance, it could have been the tenseness you carried in your shoulders like a wounded animal being surrounded, or maybe it was the way your pretty face cracked and shattered like glass the longer the Capitols talked to you.

You were a commendable actor, sure, you’d certainly have fooled anyone else. But you just, you had looked so alone—completely overwhelmed with the piranhas circling you. So he threw you a line.

Your words swim through his head. 

And you want to save me? He didn’t say your assessment was right, in fact, he had ignored what you said entirely. But he never said you were wrong either. He doesn’t suddenly have a savior complex or anything, he’s got no delusions of being some kind of hero. It’s just. He knows how much he would have appreciated it if someone had stepped in on his behalf when he was fourteen, even for just a moment. It would have made all the difference. But there hadn’t been anyone. So, if he has the chance to change that for you—stop the crippling despondency before it sweeps you away—why wouldn’t he?

Finnick won’t overestimate his influence. If Snow gets to you, there’s very little he can do about it. But.

It doesn’t seem like he’s made you the offer yet. Doesn’t that mean something? Snow is nothing if not punctual, very cut-throat in that regard. If he wanted something from you, he would have asked already, right? So maybe, he lets himself think, maybe you’re safe.

He looks up to the sky. One of the many things he hates about the Capitol is the smog. They're in the mountains, but the sky is so polluted it's hard to even see the moon sometimes. "Can you see the stars well in Eleven?" He asks, waving off your attempt to hand him back the handkerchief. You can burn it for all he cares. "Yeah,” you nod. "We focus on agriculture, so there are no mills or factories to pollute the air." You move closer to where he's leaning and look up. It feels almost instinctual to copy you, to get closer and fall into your orbit. "Hmm," he hums, "same for Four. Ships come in and out of the harbor, but I don't think they do much damage." The calmest he's felt in his entire life is when he's staring up at the sky at night, sand under his feet, and waves crashing in the background. "A friend of mine loved looking at the stars. She never knew any of the constellations, so she'd make up her own with stories to go with them." Mags loved telling him all the stories she made up when she was his age. Even after the stroke took her ability to speak, she'd point up at a constellation and have Finnick retell them to her. "My dad knew the real constellations." There's a small, prideful grin on your face that he doubts you even know is there. But he does. He is very aware of it. "He'd tell them to me whenever we came back from harvesting." "The real constellations, huh?” He glances over his shoulder at the glass door leading inside. The game is down to its last few tributes. No one should come looking for either of you. "How about for every real story you tell me, I tell you a made-up one?" He grins at you, the bar of the balcony digging into his back as he turns around. Odd. He can’t remember the last time he’s been alone with someone—someone other than Mags and Annie—and has kept all of his clothes on. "Won't they miss you in there? I mean you’re definitely the main attraction in every room you're in." You nudge him gently with your elbow, looking up at him through wispy eyelashes. Your eyes are still a little red from your earlier crying, but they’re heavy and focused entirely on him. He's used to people flirting with him. Hell, he does it almost as readily as he breathes. But he isn't used to you flirting with him. That tentative way of yours makes him nervous. It’s nothing he’s used to. It feels too real. "I don't care what they think," he shrugs a shoulder, biting his lip to stop from smiling too broadly, "The real party's out here, anyway." You tilt your head, smiling up at him and his ears go warm. This is probably the fifth time he's talked to you and you've never smiled at him like that before.

“Deal.” You hold up your pinky to him, something so openly childish that he can’t help but laugh. 

“Deal.” He locks his pinky with yours and you nod at each other before dropping your hands.

"You see that up there? Those tiny clusters of stars," he watches your finger draw a W between five stars, "are called Cassiopeia. And those five stars above it are called Cepheus. They were husband and wife, queen and king. Cassiopeia offended Poseidon by saying her daughter, Andromeda, was more beautiful than the sea nymphs—close friends of his. So he punished her by sending a flood and a sea monster that would destroy their country unless they sacrificed Andromeda." Finnick looks from the sky to the side of your face as you continue talking. He follows the line of your jaw up to your mouth and watches as your full lips form the words of your story. The moon is full, the sky is bright, and he's entranced by more than just the stars. “After they died, Zeus put them in the sky together because Cepheus was a descendant of one of Zeus's lovers. A little weird, honestly.” Your face scrunches up in a decidedly cute way at the thought. “Cepheus sits with his scepter, and Cassiopeia sits chained to her throne as a punishment by Poseidon. As if having to sacrifice her daughter wasn’t enough. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?" 

“Yeah.” The yellow lights from inside blanket you from behind, while the moon’s white glare reflects in your eyes. “They are.” You catch him staring and look at him expectantly. You're starting to fidget and he realizes he’s been quiet for a concerning amount of time. “My friend…” he pauses and makes a quick decision, "my friend Mags, she calls that one the Turtle and the Fish. Eros was mischievous and vain, as most gods are. He wanted to show off to a sea nymph, so he made a turtle and a fish fall in love to prove his power transcended species. But fish don't live as long as turtles, and once its lover died, the turtle mourned for one hundred years at the bottom of the sea. Poseidon, who felt his subject's grief, put them together amongst the stars for all eternity." He turns to you and finds you staring at him. "What?" He asks with a laugh, embarrassed for whatever reason. "I know it’s pretty simple compared to yours, but—" He cuts himself off when you smile at him again. "No, I liked it." You nod at your own words like you're agreeing with yourself. "It was sweet. Your Poseidon is way nicer than mine. Maybe you can tell your friend one of my stories. To show her how different they are." You shrug like it's a dumb, throwaway idea, before turning away from him in a haste to look back up at the sky. 

He doesn’t understand. How can you just offer something like that like it’s nothing? You clearly loved your father very much and he picked up on the past tense when you talked about him. These stories are quite personal to you and he had assumed you hadn’t wanted them to be shared, but…Maybe he will tell her. 

“Oh. Good. I just—I’m not much of a storyteller, so…I might’ve completely butchered that.” He swears it sounds much better when he retells it to Mags.

“It was great, Finnick. You were great.” You pout up at him and it’s the most unfair shit Finnick’s ever seen. Made even worse by the fact that you’re defending him. To himself. “Can you tell me another one?” You ask guilelessly, and who is Finnick to say no?

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

Present (ii) - Finnick

[ 23 & 24] - District Four 

"Mags: milk and cinnamon," Finnick places two tea cups before the two women, "And, Annie: a spoonful of honey." Mags smiles up at him in thanks as Annie takes a sip. He walks back to the kitchen to pour his own cup. It’s odd. He hadn’t always been a tea drinker. But now he practically puts on a new cup for every occasion, entirely your influence. He rests against the counter, letting it dig into his hip. It wouldn't be long before Snow announced the stipulations for the third Quarter Quell and Finnick can admit in the safety of his own mind that he's nervous. There were whispers among the Capitols and none of it painted a pretty picture. One of his clients informed him about a new Gamemaker, supposedly some kind of creative genius. He rolls his eyes at the thought. Yeah, he bets the guy is absolutely brilliant at torturing children. He drops five sugar cubes into the tea before grabbing a licorice root to stir it with. He joins them on the couch, staring at the sliced berries floating in his cup. There's something in the air. Word travels fast in close circles and it's no secret that there are more and more riots breaking out in the districts. Katniss and Peeta's win is still fresh on everyone's tongue. Snow has stayed quiet and with the Quarter Quell on the horizon, Finnick knows it—he can feel it in the atoms of his very being that it's going to end poorly. Or at the very least, worse than normal. What fresh hell will Snow come up with this time? Snow appears before a cheering crowd, foreboding even through the TV. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the seventy-fifth year of The Hunger Games. And it was written in the charter of The Games that every twenty-five years, there would be a Quarter Quell to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died in the uprising against The Capitol." He places his cup on the table and leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by Games of a special significance. And now on this, the seventy-fifth anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the third Quarter Quell," Mags grabs onto his arm, frail fingers gripping his wrist. He wonders if she can feel the pulsing of his rapid heartbeat, "as a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of The Capitol. On this, the third Quarter Quell Games the male and female Tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of Victors in each district." Annie lets out a blood-curdling scream and it echoes past Finnick's ears. Her glass shatters on the ground and scalding tea splashes on his feet. He doesn't flinch. Normally, whenever Annie got like this, he would comfort her—talk her through it, but he can't move. The tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of victors and all of the victors of District Four are in this room. Mags’s physical state and Annie’s mental state guarantee one thing: regardless of who gets picked, they won't survive it. He'll be losing someone either way, and that's if he survives. If he survives, because Finnick is the only male victor for Four. There's no doubt, no one volunteering for him. He will be reaped and that, that was just— He rubs at his eyes with the base of his palms, fighting back a migraine. He makes a mental list: he'll be picked, Johanna and Blight will be picked, Chaff will be picked and— His hands move to pull at his roots. There are only two female victors in Eleven. There are only two, but Seeder loves you like she raised you herself. There's still hope, still a chance that you won't be picked, that she'll take your place if you're reaped. You'll be safe. And then, he remembers: Seeder is a mother, she's a wife. There are people that need her. He won't put it past Snow to rig the outcome for Eleven. He'll put Seeder's name in twice and pat himself on the back for seemingly ensuring your freedom. When, in reality, he's only ensured that you'll be in the arena. 

Finnick knows this because he knows you. Better than he knows anyone, better than he knows himself. He knows that you're brave, that you're stubborn enough to put a cabezon to shame, that you're stupidly compassionate. He knows that you'll never be able to live with yourself if you don't volunteer in her place. 

His head falls to the back of the couch. That's one thing he and Snow have in common, the only thing. Their love has damned you. Annie is mumbling to herself, having screamed herself hoarse at this point. But she keeps making jerking movements as if she wants to run. He steals a few breaths, taking a moment to gather himself—his fears, his hopes, his anger—he gathers it all and stores it away. "C'mon, Annie. Let's go outside for a walk." A stroll along the shoreline usually calms her down and he gets the allure. At least with the cooling breeze and the ocean mist from crashing waves, Finnick can close his eyes and pretend to be someone else. Someone unburdened with the fact that Snow was right, they are more similar than he'd like to admit. Because Seeder may have a family that relies on her, but Finnick can't find it in himself to care. He'd put her in the arena himself if it meant your safety. He stands, stepping around shards of glass and pools of cooling tea, pulling Annie up with him. He doesn't get far before Mags grabs his hand. She's worried, he can see it in her frown. She has every right to be. “I'm,” not fine, far from it, “right here, Mags. Don't worry about me.” He leaves behind Mags's concern and the sound of Caesar Flickerman's excited voice recounting Snow's speech. He pinches the skin between his thumb and index finger, pressing down until it hurts. Then he presses down until the muscle throbs. The sea breeze hits him in the face when he opens the door and he thinks. The boat is sinking and he can only swim for so long.

-

A/N: Side note, that was "stubborn enough to put a bull to shame" but I figured Finnick wouldn't know enough about bulls to know they're stubborn. So I picked the fish equivalent of a bull.

[rare-clone-fic-exchange]

Double, Double Boil and Trouble - Part 1

It is I, @dystopicjumpsuit, with a fic written especially for my beloved longtime reader @goblininawig!

Pairing: Clone Trooper Boil x Reader (GN; reader practices tasseomancy/reads tea leaves) 

Rating: T but minors DNI as always

Wordcount: 2.2k

Warnings and tags: fluff; minor angst; Star Wars swearing; Boil is canonically a bit of a tool; Boil still has his mustache 

Summary: Boil and his friends visit a fortune-telling shop during a night out on Coruscant.

A/N: There will be at least one more chapter coming soon. Don't worry, it ends happily 🧡

Suggested listening: "Reaching for the Moon," by Ella Fitzgerald

https://open.spotify.com/track/1PSpnTbP2TnstBbSpcGWGb?si=efc74bbdd4c34465

Stak, Razor and Wooley were approaching the raucous stage of inebriation as Boil sipped his iazacal liquor and watched them in stoic silence. By his calculation, they had about thirteen minutes left before they all got eighty-sixed from 79’s. They probably would have made it, except some shiny from the 104th got a little overly familiar with the pretty Twi'lek bartender, raising Wooley's immediate ire. The ensuing confrontation got them all kicked out and banned from the club for a week.

Boil would have happily gone back to the GAR barracks and pretended to sleep, but the others were determined to make the most of their first night of shore leave, and so they ventured out into the frigid, rainy night to explore the district around the clone bar in search of further entertainment. 

They didn't have to look far; the entertainment district was packed with all varieties of businesses eager to separate tourists from their credits. Unfortunately, most of them also had signs proclaiming “NO CLONES ALLOWED” displayed prominently in their windows.

We're good enough to die for them, but not good enough for them to let us have lives, he reflected bitterly.

“Look, that one allows clones,” Stak said, pointing to a small shop illuminated by lurid neon signs.

“A fortune teller?” Boil scoffed. “Might as well just toss your credits into the underworld portal. It'll get you the same result in the end.”

“Don't be such a kriffin’ buzzkill,” Wooley said. “I want to find out if there's a tall, good-looking stranger in my future.”

“If that's how you describe a super-battle droid, I'd say the odds are good,” Boil retorted.

“Well, I’m not going to stand out in the rain,” Stak said, overruling Boil’s objections.

Thus, the troopers soon found themselves in a cramped, stuffy room that reeked of incense and was cluttered with a dizzying array of mystical and occult paraphernalia. Their damp wool uniforms smelled like wet hounds, and condensation fogged the windows, making the neon city outside look blurry and dreamlike. The four fortune tellers who greeted them were dressed in elaborate, flamboyant robes that Boil highly doubted were authentic to any culture in the galaxy, but they were very effective in giving them an otherworldly—almost fantastical—air. 

Stak opted to have his palm read; Razor was intrigued by the card reader; and Wooley opted for runes, leaving Boil alone with the remaining con artist—er, fortune teller. He sized up the civvie before him, trying not to look openly hostile as he searched for the words to politely decline whatever snake oil remained to be peddled. Before he could speak, though, the charlatan—kriff—fortune teller gave him a dazzling smile, and Boil blinked, taken completely off guard.

You weren't particularly surprised when the first three troopers quickly paired up with your partners. Their styles of fortune telling were certainly flashier and more attractive to many customers than your quieter approach. Still, none of them could boast the numbers of loyal repeat customers that flocked to you again and again. The difficulty lay in convincing them to give you a chance in the first place.

The remaining clone did not look like the type to give you a chance. He stared at you and your partners with hard, jaded eyes and a mouth set in a firm line beneath his mustache. As his fellow troopers paired off one at a time with the other mediums, he looked more and more skittish, until it was just the two of you left in the reception room. It was clearly time to break out your secret weapon.

You gave him your patented brilliant smile that walked the perfect line between welcoming and subtly flirtatious. “Welcome. Am I right in thinking that your brothers wanted to have their fortunes read, and they insisted you come with them?”

He blinked at the force of your smile, then gave you the most reluctant half-smile you’d ever seen. “That obvious?”

“I don’t need to be psychic to see that you don’t want to be here,” you replied.

He laughed shortly. “No offense, but I don’t believe in any of this.”

“No offense taken. Perhaps you'd like to join me for a cup of tea while you wait for your brothers. When they're finished, you can pretend I read your tea leaves. No charge, of course.” You gave him a cheeky grin. “I won't tell if you don't.”

Some of the tension eased out of his shoulders at your offer. “Thanks. That’d be… nice.”

You led him into your reading room and invited him to sit wherever he liked. He looked around the room curiously before settling onto the ancient velvet sofa. You began to prepare a pot of tea for the two of you to share.

“Not exactly what I was expecting,” he observed as he looked around the cozy space furnished with soft, somewhat shabby furniture and bathed in the soft light of a few old-fashioned lamps. “Where are all the crystals and tchotchkes?”

“I prefer to minimize distractions during readings,” you replied. “Though as you can see, I do try to make it as comfortable as possible for my guests.”

“‘Guests,’” he snorted. “Is that what you call them?”

You raised your eyebrows at his tone. “Yes. And while I fully accept that you are skeptical of the services we provide, I draw the line at outright rudeness. If you intend to insult me, my colleagues, or our guests, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

He flinched, realizing he’d overstepped. “Apologies.”

You accepted his begrudging apology as you finished brewing the tea and arranged a small plate of sweet pastries. You had plenty of experience with the clone troopers, and you knew they tended to have a sweet tooth. Besides, you’d smelled the unmistakable scent of iazacal wafting off of him, and you hoped that his sullen mood might improve if he sobered up a bit. Hence, tea and pastries.

He tugged his gloves off and laid them neatly on the low table, wrapping his hands around the cup of tea you passed him. It was a cold night, and his uniform was damp from the rain, so it was no surprise to feel the chill of his skin when his fingers brushed against yours as you handed him the drink. You poured a cup for yourself, then curled up with the other at the opposite end of the small sofa, tucking your feet under you and leaving a small gap between yourself and him. His eyes flickered over you briefly as you sat. At least his expression was no longer actively hostile, though you also wouldn’t exactly describe him as friendly. He sniffed the tea curiously. 

“Is this magical tea?” he asked in a faintly mocking tone.

“Certainly not,” you replied with dignity. “I never perform spellwork on someone without their consent. Besides, the magic tea is too expensive to give away for free.”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking,” he said.

You merely gave him a mysterious smile. “I didn’t catch your name earlier.” 

“Don’t you know it already?” he asked with a tiny smirk.

“Never heard that one before,” you said drily.

“You’re right. It was a low-hanging meiloorun,” he admitted. “Name’s Boil.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Boil,” you said.

“Now I know you’re lying,” he said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

“Fine, it’s an… experience to meet you,” you laughed. “What are you boys up to this fine Coruscanti evening?”

He shrugged. “Same as every shore leave. Gettin’ kriffed up. Tryin’ not to think too hard.”

You nodded. It wasn’t the first time a clone trooper had said something similar to you, and it wouldn’t be the last. “Is it working?”

He met your eyes. “Might have if those di’kuts hadn’t gotten us kicked out of the bar.”

“Music is better here.”

He frowned. “I don’t hear any music.”

“Exactly.”

He laughed, a genuine laugh for the first time since he’d walked into your shop. “You’re not wrong. What about you? Busy night?”

“Oh, you know, fleecing innocent tourists, bewitching unsuspecting troopers on shore leave, making pacts with the forces of darkness, eating more pastry than I should.”

“So an average Centaxday, then,” he said with a grin. When he smiled, his entire face transformed. His eyes lit; the lines of stress eased on his forehead; and he looked younger, less hardened.

“Maybe a few less blood sacrifices than usual,” you said with a smile.

“We’ve all had to cut back in this economy,” he replied, deadpan.

“So true. We should protest in front of the Senate building.”

“You’d certainly catch some eyes in that,” he said, gesturing toward your elaborate costume. 

“Then I must be doing it right,” you replied with a tiny smirk.

“So it’s all for show, then?” he asked, his voice neutral, but his eyes speculative.

You took a delicate sip of your tea and sighed with pleasure at the taste. “People have certain… expectations about the way someone in my line of work will look. Who am I to disappoint them?”

“So you exploit their expectations to manipulate them for profit,” he observed without heat.

“You certainly don’t pull your punches,” you said. It was far from the worst accusation you’d had flung at you by a disgruntled customer, but it still stung to learn that you sat so low in his opinion. “Do you feel like I’m swindling you with free tea and pastries?”

His gaze dropped briefly to your lips, then rose back to meet your eyes. “Nothing is free.”

“And you say I’m the cynical one,” you replied with a level stare.

“Just an observation.”

“And what else do you observe about me?” you asked.

He sat back and surveyed you slowly, raking his eyes down your body. You felt your pulse kick up at his scrutiny; you were accustomed to people eyeing you like a piece of meat—so many would-be guests didn’t seem to comprehend the difference between paying for your services and paying for your body—but rarely did you have the sense that someone truly perceived you. You sat calmly with a slight, defiant tilt to your jaw, refusing to let him know he’d rattled you.

“For starters,” he said, “the fortune teller act is just that: an act. You've gotten a little tired of it, but it pays the bills.”

“I prefer ‘medium.’”

He laughed mirthlessly. “But you don’t deny the rest.”

“Would you believe me if I did?”

He didn’t reply, but merely took a long drink of tea. “I can also tell that you're clever, charming, and very good at reading people. How am I doing so far?”

“You should have led with that,” you replied, adjusting the drape of your robes. “The flattery would have made it easier to swallow being called a fraud.”

“Like I said. Just an observation.”

You smiled faintly. “Shall I tell you what I observe about you?”

“Seems fair,” he said with a confident smirk. “I’m just an amateur, after all. Can’t wait to see the master at work.”

You leaned forward slightly and gazed deeply into his eyes. After a few seconds, he glanced away, setting his half-empty cup of tea down on the low table, then he sat back and folded his arms over his chest, staring back at you with his jaw set in a stubborn line.

“You lost someone,” you said softly.

He huffed derisively, looking away. “We’re in a war. Everybody has lost someone.”

“Not just someone,” you replied, unperturbed by his interruption. “A brother.”

His eyes jolted back to yours. “Everyone knows we clones call each other ‘brother.’ We’re bred to die. It’d be more surprising if I hadn’t lost a brother.”

He snatched up his teacup and tossed back the rest of the tepid brew, his eyes hard and angry.

“May I see your cup?” you asked.

His brows snapped together as he eyed you suspiciously, but he handed it over. You gave him a soft, reassuring smile, but he didn’t relax as you peered down into his cup to examine the leaves that clung to the delicate porcelain.

“There’s a word,” you said slowly. “It’s not Basic or Sy Bisti. It could be a name.”

Despite himself, he leaned closer, trying to see what you saw.

“Boil… does ‘Nerra’ mean anything to you?”

Boil shot to his feet, staggering backward. “How do you know that?”

His voice was hoarse and strained. You set down the cup carefully and rose from the sofa.

“How the hell do you know that?” he repeated, his voice a menacing growl as he advanced a step closer to you.

Quite suddenly, he seemed to tower over you, and your heart raced as you realized that you could be in real danger. You subtly reached for the small panic button that you kept concealed in one of your many bracelets, but before you could call for help, he whirled abruptly and stormed out of the shop into the torrential downpour of the dark Coruscant night.

You sagged with relief and closed your eyes as you leaned against the wall, breathing hard. I’m safe. He didn’t hurt me. When you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was a pair of leather gloves sitting on the low table. You didn’t need to read the leaves in the bottom of your cup to know that he’d be back.

[restwellsoon]

Hi there hey hello, I’m here for your event. Ya girl has been fighting a cold since Friday night and feels like crap so please bear with me – i have no fucks to give with punctuation rn. It’s a miracle you’re getting periods at the end of the sentences and any capital letters are because these were drafted in word and it was done automatically. Please stand by for three no pressure take as long as you need requests for your cute and fun event.

May I please have a sweet catnap with Jason Todd and Aphrodite? Thank you and please drink water and stay safe and take care of yourself and take breaks as needed ily

Not me forgetting to post this from my drafts 🙃Thanks for your patience, Onyx, and for all the lovely things you sent in for this event!

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Prompt: Aphrodite | I've been searching all my life for something that I won’t regret. Could it be that you're the one I'm looking for?

while you were sleeping

Gotham’s city glow hit all the right places that Jason’s shadow couldn’t hide, casting the curves of your eyes, your nose, your cheeks, your lips in neon. The occasional siren and zooming cars faded as he listened to each of your breaths, every exhale slowing as you fell into a deeper sleep. He used to stay up for hours past the sun and past the moon in anxious torment over the angel in his bed. 

No.

Angel wasn’t the right word. A deity or simply some kind of divine? No, that wasn’t it either.

You rolled over, your leg hitching over his slightly. The sheets rolled and crumpled with you. When you settled, your breath of content was his. 

Jason knew the word. 

His heart.

It was true. Your breath was his as was your rhythm, and the pace you set was steadfast and quiet. It was something true that he could keep in tune.

He used to pace anxiously as you slept in bed, counting down the hours and minutes when you would wake. Years of constant vigilance made it difficult to still of his own accord. If he laid in bed, he could hear the raucous tempo of his thoughts. They blended in with the city noise–the siren, the cars, and on bad nights, the crying, the screams, the gun shots.

His heart used to fall into a discordant rhythm as if something was trying to crawl out of his chest.

It was horrifying, really, and he’d seen some shit.

But like that, you’d strike a chord with your sleep-laced song. It was a hymn, a hum, a request. 

“Come back to bed.”

On the reverb, he’d follow your command. The heart wants what it wants, after all.

It took him a while–weeks, days, months. Some nights would be good, and Jason would stay in bed all night. Other nights were bad. Those were the nights when patrol was better than sitting with worries of a future that might not ever come. 

But still, he came whenever you asked.

Your bedtime routine was practically a military march, and eventually he fell into your cadence. You had one half of the bed but also his half too. Jason didn’t mind the closeness. His heart could keep up and match your chords until one day your song became his.

Jason didn’t pace as much, if even at all. He laid in bed on your angel cloud, his heart your heart, your song his song, and his love was yours to take.

Like most nights now, his eyes weighed down until they shut, and in the darkness, he drew you closer. His heart stirred from around his chest until finally you both were asleep.

A Token of Sleep | event / Jason Todd's Masterlist / Rest's Main M.list

[madstronaut]

I recommend bringing popcorn while binging this absolutely stunning firstfic(?!)

first off I am deeply pleased to be rambling once again over one of my earliest and beloved moots' fics

I have been biding my time to savor reading branchy’s very first (?!) fanfic works below and the best way to describe what it feels like to read KM is like watching an action movie but in writing - also once again fucking stunned by the fact this was her first fic; absolutely blown away by how many incredible firstfics i have read that rival published fic out there imho

reading: The Killing Moon by @deadbranch

I listened to the song ‘Killing Moon’ by Echo & The Bunnymen while reading this and it took me straight back to the 90s and thought of the hours of Charmed I watch for some reason...btw if a fic you read mentions certain songs playing in the storyline, highly recommend listening while reading for a full cinematic experience ✨

“Oh my…I knew you were from the States but uh…that’s…an accent ya got there.” “Likewise, sir.”

*gigglin uncontrollably* also shoutout&thank you @/jasonsmirrorball whose commentary on another fic used the indents when quoting from the story which was a fantastic idea!

You notice the subtle change when he bites the inside of his lower lip as his gaze briefly drifts to your lips and back to your eyes.

mmm the triangle eyes, might as well have a neon sign over your head blaring  AM EYEFUCKIN YOU RN

(what are triangle eyes? see gif reference below)

You fight the urge to roll your eyes but instead maintain a locked a gaze with Price, “It was something to do.  My career was headed for a desk and I’m not done yet.  I’ve got more in me, I can do more.  I want more.” “Fuck.  Finally, a real answer.  And no ‘sir.’  Feels good, doesn’t it?”

fucking love branchy’s OCs/protaggos; slay, my alpha queens, slay (also pls step on me)

 Don’t need to be caught gazing at chain of command’s ass.  Eyes forward, always forward.  Eyes fo…

a simple win-win solution my queen: don’t get caught😂

ehhehehe wedding tackle indeed i’ll wed soap’s tackle anyday hehehehe cough moving on

also i am fuckin half in love with OC and her nicknames…typhoid mary, saint of killers (PREACHER REFERENCE!!), iron maiden, sorceress..there’s something special & intimate when you’re christened with a new name by friends/a group of people some odd ones I've had in the past are: bloody mary, albondiga, bringer of tears (thankfully not because of killcounts like dallas here) 😅🤭

“Do they all have different names for you?” He smiles again, his eyes matching the mirth his mouth betrays.  You try not to smile in response.  The last thing you need is to be thought weak, or stupid.  Or like you’re flirting with a superior.  None of those are a good look. “They do.  Did.  I’ve known a lot of people who didn’t want to say my name.”

branchy has a uncommonly talented trait of fleshing out so much history and worldbuilding through straight-up pure/raw dialogue where i can see hear & smell & sense the physical surroundings, the way the characters are holding their bodies, the tensions, emotions - all between several quotemarks! one of the reasons branchy is one of my favorite writers on this hellsite (affectionate)

our mouth hardened into a thin line as you nodded.  “No worries, Johnny.  I survived his death.  I can survive his unexpected resurrection.”

i happen to be reading hunger games rn and dallas reminds me a bit of katniss - (they are direct, bold, present a flinty face to the world due to the harsh settings they’ve survived - yet despite all that, it hasn’t buried their humanity or hardened their heart that deeply just yet, and it breaks through not too far from the surface here and there)

anyway soft soap supremacy and back to thirsting, what was i saying…

..JUST KIDDING LET ME DO AN EXCRUCIATINGLY DETAILED BREAKDOWN of how much i love this scene of ghost seeing dallas again finally

literally just a few back-and-forth sentences’ worth of lore from the previous chapter and already fiending for the tension and drama of their backstory!!! the little things like dallas being able to pick up the difference in his voice, the mention of them entrusting their real names to each other, noting he touched up his eyepaint, the mention of LIMINAL SPACE!!!! (as an anthro grad I was and still am fucking obsessed with victor turner’s liminality and communitas and anyway am always soooo chuffed to see the phrase out in the wild) and anyway not really sure who to be more jealous of here, that dallas got to fuck ghost or ghost got to fuck dallas (yes yes why not both)

“I’m…sorry.  I’m so sorry.”  He says the words plainly, less gravel than usual, but with a pain you don’t recognize.  “I’m so fucking sorry, love.”  The last syllable breaks in the back of his throat.

fucking shredding my pillows in how delicious the angst is

My name.  My name was in his mouth when he died.

None of them knew Simon would whisper your name in the darkness, your name a prayer on his lips.  As though saying it would conjure the most vulnerable and savage parts of your soul so he could enjoy you more fully, so he could offer his own vulnerability and savagery in return.  To be consumed in the same fire.

🥺🥺🥺this is such fucking shakespearean levels of trauma and poetry, i doff my cap to thee branchy my literary queen

i am fucking bouncing off the walls here with the..foreshadowing? the layers of meaning baked into such small almost throwaway lines and gestures - does price even know what he’s offering (and taking) from dallas by letting her know she can call him john after hours/OUT OF UNIFORM? i know this is endgame price x dallas but i find all this past romance angst fucking DELICIIOOUUSSS

Soap backs up another step as he works his way around the rec room, his mouth open, head tilted back.  You smile as only he can make you smile.

“Your hugs fix a lot of things.” You smile as your eyes meet his.

The timbre of his laugh is a delight, a warrior’s voice tinted with naivete and levity.  But he was always easy to cheer up. 

honestly when im not simping for soap i think he’d make such a great and easygoing friend, god i love the way cod writers have headcanoned him as such for the most part

Your face is unreadable as you let the smoke escape into the space above you.  The gilded ceiling leering at you through the haze.  Your dress uniform feeling stiffer and more unnatural by the moment.  A shroud more than armor.

i have definitely felt the itchiness of having to wear a fit, or a face (as have we all at some point) that didn’t quite sit right - but i am mostly glad for the experience of learning to see them as tools and costumes versus prisons and limitations. anyway im blabberin at like 243am which is why im getting vaguely metaphorical and philosophical lol

In the three months since your transfer you’ve gotten to know Price’s moods, what annoys him, what makes him smile.  You can appreciate that he says more with his silence than most people can say with words.  You justify your attention to detail by telling yourself you notice little things in everyone around you, not just John.  The old hypervigilance.  Or your excuse.

i love seeing price through the (heart)eyes of dallas 😍 a secret pleasure of mine is discussing what crushes feel like for myself and others and comparing and listening to all the different ways and reasons people fall in love - and also love the ways prices navigates his own bids for attention from dallas behind the veneer of professionalism 

The years haven’t erased the memory of his footfalls, his measured gait. 

oooh i was just discussing this with friends, how when you’ve known someone for so long you can tell who they are by a specific jangling sound of keys in a lock turning or just the gait of their footsteps from afar

also this wasn’t in the story, just the A/N but “ghost’s abbattoir of a psyche” is a fucking AWARDWINNING turn of phrase branchy 👏👏👏i fucking slow clapped irl like a dumbass when i read it thats how much i liked it lmao

Damn he sounds sexy through the comm.  Don’t know what it is about the comm…

brutal honesty here but i could probably come just from any of the COD men speaking to me over comms, im just stating the facts

“I’ll make it up to you.  When we return, we can do two lessons back-to-back, or we can do an extra-long lesson. Your choice.  Over.”  The line crackles.

“What about every night?  I’ve got catching up to do, love.  I’m not getting any younger.”

HOLY FUCKING SHIT IF PRICE SAID THIS TO ME AFTER BREAKING PROTOCOL I WOULD PROBABLY COME IMMEDIATELY

i am fucking mooning over young ghost thirsting for dallas immediately “She looks strong, but in the way that he wants in an argument, or in bed.  Or against the wall.” yes yes ghostie this is my bread butter and jam and also to use the a/b/o lingo alpha men who want alpha women are just 😘👌🫶

At the time, Ghost was in love.  She had no idea.  He had wanted her to make the first move, the way she had approached him when he first arrived at the mess tent in the desert, unafraid.  He had wanted her to want him.   For Sorceress to claim him for herself.

🥹🥹🥹 not me crying a little and dying inside reading this and seeing ex-archangel dallas through his eyes

literally yelled out FUCK at the top of my lungs when the team cockblocked price and dallas at the bar fucking GO AWAY AND LET EM FUCK GAWD

also fucking love when writers mention music in their fics, i listened to every song mentioned here when they came up…also branchy ur texan is showing with how many country songs are mentioned in your writings LMAO

and FUCK I SIMULTANEOUSLY LOVE AND HATE YOU BRANCHY FOR ALL THE HEARTBREAK AND ANGST IN THIS FIC FROM DALLAS, FIRST WITH GHOST AND NOW SOAP? I FUCKIN KNEW HE WAS CARRYING A TORCH FROM HER FROM ALL HIS LITTLE COMMENTS AND GESTURES BUT MY GOD WHEN HE SAYS HE HAD TO BE SURE AND THEN SENDS HER OFF AFTER PRICE 😭😭😭😭

“Shh… shh… listen to my voice, love.  I’m here.  Nothing’s wrong.  We’re in the hotel.  You’re safe, I’m safe.  The team is safe.  You’re not in that place again.  Those places are gone.  You’re here.  With me.  And you’re my darling, love.  You are mine.  Shh… Come back to me.  Come back to me, my darling…”

the disassociating panic/anxiety attack scene was…wow. as someone who's experienced them myself i found it viscerally a little too realistic (once again hats off to you branchy, incredible writing) but i appreciate how raw and real it is portrayed here…and ofc price’s little comfortspeech would probably cure all heartbreak if it was real

 His wristwatch digs into the side of your right leg.  You secretly hope he leaves the watch on as he fucks you tonight.  And his dog tags.  You want to take them in your teeth as you ride him later.

*me, furiously taking notes for bedtime imaginary/IRL scenarios before realizing i would probably spit them out of my mouth immediately at the metallic taste in a very unsexy way right into wearer’s eyes most likely*

“Well, I don’t wear underwear…I bet the team gets the wrong idea about me all the time.”

😂😂😂

also my heart stopped at dallas finding the ring in the jacket pocket? im unsure of the sense of time in this fic but the ‘i love you’s made their appearances in the 1st inning here!!!

i also love vargas nickname of mija 🥹he would be the best dad (sir i can help you with that cough)

You snap out of your daze and refocus your eyes on Price.  His eyes are the bluest you’ve ever seen them.  You swear they were a slate gray when you first met.  Cold and distant, from a long winter.  Your heart tells you it’s spring.

i fucking love this line, so beautiful and tender mwah mwah chef’s kisses galore for this branchy

“This path, all of this, would be my tomb.  I need life, not death,” you finish, not sure what else can be said.

🫶

You were too much alike. 

this!!!! i clocked this back when soap said the “neither of you smile, you both can have unsmiley babies” - be wary of dating/getting romantically entangled with someone who is a mirror, speaking from personal experience…just because you can reflect and find familiarity in each other doesn’t mean you won’t get burned

anyway i am busy crying at the anguish of soap and dallas’ last convo and the “i shouldn’t have turned you away, i was mistaken” and the “no, you did the right thing” correction

Only John would be willing to challenge Death to a chess match just to buy time.  You give up.

unf!!! fucking love this and the parallel set up with the seventh seal movie reference and the proposal!!! THE FUCKING PROPOSAL and then everyone pitching in to figure out how to make this work for dallas is just 😘👌👌👌

your spare time the both of you had figured out that your height disparity, though not extreme, was enough to cause some mechanical challenges.

this is the only math i will enjoy working out, that and math rocks (dnd joke)

You don’t look up, but you can imagine he’s smiling.  That little smile John saves for you, the one the rest of the world will never know.

🥰🥰🥰

“No.  Not into the rank thing, love.  Honestly, I’ve never found it a turn-on…the power difference…” “I’ve found my equal.  My match in all things,” the corners of his mouth turn up a little at the admission, his voice quieting, “And I can’t fucking imagine a life without you.”

🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

so i usually like to liveblog my notes as i read through but my FUUUUUCK THE LAST FEW CHAPTERS WAS LIKE THE LAST ARC OF AN ACTION MOVIE THE PACE WAS ABSOLUTELY DIZZYING IN THE BEST WAY AND I TORE THRU EM LIKE A BAT OUTTA HELL

fucking obsessed with the archangel program lore (also slightly sobering as it reminds me of black widow + red room and bucky barnes + winter soldier + IRL MK Ultra + CIA vibes) - I know there are several other series here so emotionally preparing myself to read some of them after this

You don’t know what someone’s made of until you really fight. 

this is an IRL adage i live by and yes I do think a sense of character is truly revealed in conflict that can’t really be seen in other circumstances

also the SELF CONTROL of these two to put a pin on makeup fucking to hash out their woes

You approach Price, your arms held out.  He allows you to pull him into the warmth of your arms, but not before he kisses you. 

this small line about dallas with her arms out gave me goosebumps knowing the journey she has taken re: vulnerability throughout this fic 🥹🥹

 I know I should be, but if Soap and Ghost can survive you, then I think I’ve got a pretty fair chance.

but did they rly tho lol I feel dallas will always be the one that got away for 'em

In truth, you’ve felt like you belonged to one another long before today…. In the dark you practice saying your new names and quizzing each other on little details, like the actual date on your marriage certificate.

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 i love this sm

i listened to all the song refs as they came up in real time and listening to fade into you by mazzy star made me feel like IDK how I felt after finishing die hard or mad max fury road like I went on a fucking JOURNEY...a SAGA...an EPIC....and I need a drink or some taco or bbq, or preferably all of them lol

BRANCHY CAN I POSSIBLY INTEREST YOU IN A SIDE CAREER/HOBBY OF SCREENWRITING COS GODDAMN WOULD I WATCH AN IRL MOVIE TRILOGY OF THIS

[pewpewkachuuboo]

nowhere to go, nowhere to be

exoverlord!fem!reader x Lucifer

So you were an overlord that sold your soul to Alastor to save your twin brother? You’re an eternal slave who is forced back into hell after a hiatus to help Alastor…. run a hotel? Why is the King of Hell here?

—

I’m so sleepy- have a chapter piece. But chapter one is long because backstory *jazz hands *

I’ve never written a reader-centric fic before so bare with me during my learning curve LOL I’ve been reading a lot of them, but I’m trying to avoid the use of (y/n) because my dumbass brain always reads it as “yes no” and it takes me out of the narrative lmao

Decided to make the title after the Kenny Chesney song because it’s about those small pockets of time between reality where you feel free from recognizing that you have no control over what’s happening in your life that keep you from spiraling, and I think that fits the mood I’m going for.

Warnings: language, death, suicide, gore, mention of sexual assault

—

Chapter One: Wake Up Call

How long had you been swimming in the darkness of your personal pocket dimension that the Radio Demon, Alastor, had forced you into after you gave him your soul?

Who knows.

It had felt like centuries.

The dimension was just blackness - there was no ground, you were just eternally floating. It was a silent, weightless, and empty existence and your eyes had never fully adjusted to the dark so any hopes of scoping surroundings had been lost in the first few hours you had been placed there.

You spent the time you had to yourself after that reflecting on what had gotten you to that point.

You and your twin brother had been sold to an underground organization by your parents - you didn’t blame them, they could barely feed the two of you let alone themselves, now they at least had the money to survive themselves while you were out of sight and out of mind.

You had been trained to cater to the fancy of men - you read, cooked, learned how to play chess, and were taught the art of seduction according to your owner’s instructions. Your brother had been trained for seduction as well, but served in the organization as a hit man. Having such a small child be able to kill a man three times his size with his bare hands was an advantage the organization could not let go of.

Men in power seem to always have a weird attraction to children, so it made sense that the two of you would often go into these situations together. You recall once being covered in blood after a particularly violent sexual encounter, and your brother ripping the man limb from limb as effortlessly as a bird taking flight. He had held you the rest of the night, but you hardly slept as it was. You appreciated the care your brother had for you, but you would have preferred he cared more about his own safety.

When the two of you had reached the age of twenty-one, your brother had suggested the two of you run away to America and start a new life. How hard could it be? You had humored him, not realizing he was serious, and he was caught planning.

Your owner held your arm and made you watch and listen as he fed your brother to his pet white tigers. Even after your own death, his screams of pain and terror are still tattooed to your brain.

You had killed yourself less than a week later by slitting your throat.

When you woke up in hell, you had taken on the appearance of a grey rag-doll, stitched at the neck and joints, stitches also at the end of your lips to give you a permanent smile. Hell made sense to you - you had participated in nearly every major sin and you were positive that no person with blood on their hands would ever make it to heaven. Which meant your brother was in the realm as well.

You had searched endlessly for him for months before you had come across the V District. It was ugly, you decided, lit up by red and blue neon lights and buildings so high you couldn’t see the red sky or pentagram moon above you. That’s when you saw a poster of a man that looked eerily like the tigers that ate your brother, holding a pink and white spider against his chest, looking at each other with half-lidded eyes.

Was that him?

Only one way to find out, you decided. And you ended up at the V Tower eventually, waiting for an opportunity to waltz into the porn studio to see him up close.

You had somehow managed to follow inconspicuously behind some of the cleanup crew, and took the opportunity to look at your surroundings. Tacky was the only thing you could think to describe the decor. But that was typical of gross men - they never seemed to have good taste.

You heard a moan that was cut off by an angry “CUT” and looked around the corner to see the man you were so sure was your brother being pulled to the ground by the fur of his neck and being ruthlessly kicked by the tall moth man that spit on him and then pointed to the hall, “Get your shit together and then come back and fuck like you mean it.”

You follow behind him and clear your throat, scaring him into spinning around at you, “Is it really you?”

You now carefully, “I think so?”

He stands up straight, “How did I die?”

You point to his appearance and sigh, “I didn’t realize I’d have to see your reason for death after having to watch it happen in person.”

His face softened and he pulled you into a tight embrace, “How are you here? You shouldn’t be here.” He swallowed and pointed to the exit, “Leave but go to the club across the street - I’ll be done soon and I’ll come find you.”

You didn’t really want to leave him after what you witnessed, but you would never not take your brother seriously when he had that terrified look on his face. So you wait.

He approaches you with a fresh black eye and random stains littering his stark white fur. You frown at his appearance and he waves his hand, “I’m fine - how…. Why are you in hell?”

“Probably same reasons as you are-“

“You know what I mean.”

You tighten your grip on your glass of water, “I, uh, killed myself.”

His face softened at the admission, “But you were so young - you could have gotten out.”

“Not without you.” You look at him firmly, “You are all I had and it wasn’t worth being alive if we weren’t alive together.”

His lips thin into a straight line as he looks at the crowd in the club before leaning forward, “Listen, I am so happy to see you, but I sold my soul to Valentino - I can’t leave the tower without his permission.”

“So I’ll sell mine, too-“

“No.” His voice was sharp and his blue eyes flashed red in anger, “Absolutely not.”

“Then how do we get yours back?”

He sighed, “Valentino would have to either break the contract himself or trade my soul with another Overlord.”

“Overlord?”

Your brother went into a brief explanation about the hierarchy of hell, and you nodded with resolve, “So I need to become an Overlord and strike a deal so I can get your soul.”

He laughed, “I wish it were that easy-“

“Wait for me. I’ll do it.” You stand, unsure of where you’re going, but knowing you have to get your shit together and save your brother like you know he would have done for you, “I don’t know how long it’ll take, but I’ll do it.”

It took nearly 60 years for you to gain enough power and souls to be a respected Overlord in Hell.

And as you had the nerve to create a deal you knew Valentino couldn’t refuse, a red demon made his way into your office casually during an extermination with a grin so wide it was unnerving.

“Can I help you?”

“Can you?”

You frown, “I don’t like playing games.”

He tutted and leaned on the cane he carried that was the same color as the rest of his appearance, “No games, darling. I’m just curious how you think you can help me when you can’t even help your brother.”

You stood, seething in anger, “The fuck are you talking about?”

He hummed in interest and snapped his fingers to show you a scene of your brother being left behind by a client when being chased by exorcists. He tried to run away, too, but he was going to get caught if you didn’t do something, “Where is he?!”

“I can tell you - for a price.” The image disappeared and his smile felt more menacing than before.

You reach out to him, “You want my fucking soul for his location? I won’t make it there in time you son of a bitch-“

His eyes narrow and he holds his cane out to keep you from coming closer, “My, my. If you use that tone with me again, I’ll give you nothing and send you what’s left of your brother once I’m done feasting on what the exorcists leave behind.”

You back up a bit, startled by the angry static his voice bites back with, “Who are you?”

“Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you! An absolute pleasure.” He held out his hand, “I will save your brother from the angels in exchange for your soul and all of the souls you currently own.”

“Keep him alive after and you have a deal.” You hold out your hand without hesitation.

Alastor hums, but grips your hand after consideration, green light surrounding the two of you. He snaps his fingers and shows you that your brother, confused, is in the confines of his room at V Tower - but he’s alive and safe. Alastor snaps his fingers again and the scene disappears, “He will not perish as long as your soul is mine.”

You scream in pain, reaching for your neck as neon green chains bind to you. He looks cheerful as he checks his nails, “Beautiful screams, darling. Would you be interested in radio?”

You can’t answer as tears fall down your face, your throat raw as you feel your power leave your body. He waits for a moment before clapping, “Oh! These souls are delicious. Thank you so much for your service. I think I’ll keep you around just in case I need someone charming to do a job for me. Would you like to say goodbye to your brother before your departure?”

You sob, but shake your head yes. With the snap of a finger, shadows engulf the two of you and deliver you to your brother’s dressing room.

He cries out your name and holds your shoulders before looking up at Alastor, “What did you do to her?!”

Alastor just looked at his claws, ears twitching, “Do hurry. I have places to be.”

You tug on the black tank top your brother wore and he looks down at you, “You’re safe now. I’m so sorry.”

“What have you done?!”

You smiled and nod, “It’s fine, I promise. You would have done it for me, too.”

Realization floods his expression, “I’ll get you out of this.”

“It’s okay. I’ll see you around.” You stand and walk shakily over to Alastor who waves his fingers in greeting.

“I’ll be seeing you if you’re in danger of death, friend. Hopefully not too soon!” He cackles as the shadows engulf you both again, and all you knew from that point on was darkness.

—

Until bright light flooded your vision. You covered your eyes in response and shrunk down, digging your knees into the back of your hands to keep the onslaught of sudden light from your eyes.

A familiar laugh fills your ears and you are on your feet in an instant, heels of your hands still digging into your eyes to avoid pain, “A-Alastor?” Your voice came out as a croak due to your lack of using it after all of these years and you slowly remove your hands, squinting until your eyes adjusted, your head pounding in pain. His red figure was the first thing you saw and you gasped in realization, “H-How long was I-?”

“Not now, dear. I’ll fill you in on all the fun goings on later. For now, welcome to your new job! Our lovely owner and Princess of Hell, Charlie Morningstar, has suggested we are in need of a Porter and Concierge! I told her I knew just the person for the job.”

You had flashbacks of intelligence training from when you were alive and swallowed, looking up at the tall woman beside Alastor who seemed to almost be sparkling. She moved forward, “Hi! I’m Charlie! This is my hotel to help rehabilitate sinners! We’ve had a lot more interest since the battle with the angels and so we need some more help and I would be THRILLED if you would help.” Her voice was sweet and almost sounded like a song.

You glance at Alastor behind her and he narrows his eyes as if to tell you to go with it or else, and so you bowed your head politely, “I’ll do my best.”

The squeal the girl let out felt like nails on a chalkboard against your ears, but she pulled you into a tight hug despite your height difference - why was everyone in hell seven feet tall and you managed to be a terrifying 5’6”? - and then held you out by your shoulders, “What’s your name? How long have you been here? Do we need to move your things into your room or did Alastor already magic it here?”

You wince, “Uh, people usually call me whatever they want…. I’ve been here a while, and I don’t really own anything.”

Charlie seemed equal parts sad and excited, “Do you not remember your name? And you really don’t own anything?”

“I, uh…” Alastor drapes an arm over your shoulder and pulls you away from Charlie’s embrace.

He looks down at you, “I think our friend is tired from travel. Maybe we should save introductions until tomorrow?”

Charlie grinned, clasping her hands together, “I’ll see you first thing in the morning to give you a tour! Thank you so much for your help!” She waves enthusiastically as Alastor pulls you along with him.

He sighs once she is out of sight, “We need to catch up, I’m afraid.” His gaze is now on you, “Why did you not give her your name?”

You swallow, “Because I was an Overlord before you put me in that black space - I don’t know what my name means around here anymore.”

He hums thoughtfully, “Smart. You are a clever thing, aren’t you?” He lets go of your shoulders and walks towards the door in front of you, “This is the door to your room. Let’s have a chat.”

You’re hesitant to follow him through the open door but blink up at the decor - it was soft monochromatic colors of grey and white, it was a color theme you had always been fond of, “I thought it would be red like the rest of the hotel.”

“Nonsense- I made the room to suit the taste of your previous office. Is it satisfactory?”

“Very.” You touch the plush blanket on the bed before glancing back to him, “Catch me up, then.”

He only gave you the details he thought you would need, but you stopped him after he was done detailing the fight with the angels, “How long was I in that place for?”

Alastor tapped his chin thoughtfully, “Does the number really matter?”

You roll your eyes assuming he was avoiding telling you, “Is my brother still okay?”

“Okay? Hardly.” He chuckled, “But he’s still alive and under the thumb of that moth if that’s what you’re asking.”

You sighed in relief and looked at your lap, “So what do I need to do exactly?”

“Your job, dear.” He grinned as you glared at him, “Porter and Concierge. You will be showing our guests to their room and helping with their things. You are also going to be taking care of the customer service of the side of my job because I detest it - that entails you making sure their basic needs are met and that you make their wants happen to the best of your ability.”

You sigh, “Am I stuck here at all times?”

“Heavens, no! You will be allowed time off as needed. But I do expect you to do your job and keep our deal quiet from the other hotel guests- you will not survive your time here if you overstep me.”

You swallow but nod in understanding, “Okay.”

“Oh! My mother was rather fond of those Raggedy Anne dolls before she passed and you-“ He held up your arm between two pinched fingers, “Look sewn up like one of them. Let’s say your name is Anne tomorrow, hmm?”

You pull your arm away and nod, “Fine.”

He stands up and motions to the bed, “Rest, dear. Charlie will have you up bright and early.”

“I’ve been resting for only you know how long. And I haven’t slept since I was alive.”

His grin widened and unseen limbs seemed to force you to lay down, “I don’t remember asking a question, Anne.” You swallow, his fingers moving to hold your throat as his eyes narrowed more sinisterly, “There will be no talking back when I’ve told you to do something. Understand?”

You nod helplessly and he lets go, already at the door when you look up, “Yes, Alastor.”

He waves and disappears into a portal of shadows and leaves you to stare up at your ceiling, wondering why the thought of death almost sounded relieving at this point.

—

Charlie practically ripped your door off of its hinges that morning. You had closed your eyes to feign sleep, but jumped straight up when your door opened.

Charlie grinned blindingly at you, “Good morning! Are you ready for a tour?”

You stand, “S-sure.”

She pauses before grabbing your hand, “Did you remember your name?”

“A-Anne.”

“Anne is such a cute name! It’s so nice to meet you! I’ll show you around and then the others are all supposed to meet us in the lobby to say hello in an hour!”

You get pulled along the height and width of the hotel, Charlie yapping on about memories and excitement for the future. She finally brought you to the grand staircase and led you down the stairs and to the lobby where Alastor was standing with a small group of people that mostly lit up when Charlie spoke and caught their attention.

She held up your hand by your wrist, “This is Anne! She’s going to be helping us.”

She looks at you and pulls you down the line, “You know Alastor, this is our bartender Husker-“ you recognize him as an Overlord and he narrows his eyes at you like he’s starting to recognize you too but only nods in greeting and drinks from a bottle of alcohol, “This is our first resident, Angel Dust-“ you recognize him too, but only from the posters you had seen when he was advertising with your brother…. Who was still alive. You perked up and waved friendly at the demon, hoping to make a connection to see how your brother was doing, “This is our maid, Nifty-“ she was so small and cute, but then she grinned and your smile dropped instantly because what the fuck is that thing, “This is my girlfriend, Vaggie-“ Vaggie seemed nice enough, you decided, and the purple tone of her skin appealed to your aesthetic sense, “aaaaand this is my dad, Lucifer, he’s our event coordinator!”

“Lucifer… Morningstar?” It had all clicked in that moment - Alastor had introduced Charlie as Charlie Morningstar, Princess of Hell. Well, fuck. You looked at the man, nearly eye height to yourself but he was a few inches taller than you were but it was nice to at least not have to crane your neck to look up at him.

He flashed a full toothed smirk at your reaction, “Yes, it’s me. The King of Hell. But you can call me Lucifer because here we are simply coworkers.” He grabbed your hand from Charlie and placed a kiss against your knuckles.

You pulled your hand away with more force than intended - you found physical contact with men extremely uncomfortable, especially when it was unexpected- and he frowned, hurt crossing his expression, “Sorry, I should have asked.”

You hold up your hands in a defensive gesture, “N-no, I’m just not used to being touched so much. I shouldn’t have tugged away so hard.”

You felt a familiar hand creep around your shoulders as Alastor bent at the waist to stare at Lucifer, “Oh, no! You’ve made our new friend uncomfortable!” He clicked his tongue to make a disappointed sound, “I thought the King of Hell would have better manners.”

Lucifer looked at Alastor with his red eyes flashing in anger, “She just said she doesn’t want to be touched so why are you touching her?”

He hums, “She’s an old friend of mine! I can touch without worry!”

You try to move out of the grip but his hand tightens, claws against your skin threatening to break and spill the blood pumping underneath.

Charlie sighs in frustration, “I really wish you two would stop fighting so much - it makes us look like we don’t have a united front, and that’s not good for what we’re trying to do…”

Alastor’s grip on you loosens and disappears as he creeps back into his previous spot, Lucifer just looks off to the side, still pissed but obviously also embarrassed. He clears his throat, “I won’t touch you without your permission from now on. Sorry.”

You tilt your head to the side, observing how white his skin was against the red apples of his cheeks. His facial expressions were childish and almost made you wonder what your own expressions looked like to others.

Charlie pulled you out of your thoughts with a clap, “Let’s play a get to know each other game!”

—

You watched with your mouth agape as Charlie led her gaggle of geese in what seemed to be a normal occurrence for them with how easily they agreed to it all. This one was called ‘Confess and Guess’ - someone came up with a question and everyone wrote their answer down and put it in a bowl, and then the person who gave the question had to say their answer and then guess who wrote which one as they pull from the bowl.

It was almost heartwarming to see the group of them bonding cutely over questions until you caught Alastor’s gaze - his eyes narrowed at you and you looked down at your lap apprehensively not realizing it was your turn to pick a question, “Uh…. I don’t know - your favorite memory?”

You pick at your fingers as you wait for them to answer, accidentally breaking the tip of your left middle finger off. You curse as it rolls and lands next to Angel Dust who picks the appendage up with a cringe, “That happen often?”

“O-only when I pick at them. Sorry, I’m just nervous.”

He hands it to you with a laugh, “No need ta apologize, toots.”

You nod in thanks and pull a needle from where a cluster of them sat at your right hip and carefully strung the digit back to your hand. You hold it out in front of you to make sure you didn’t attach it at an angle and you hear Lucifer laugh from across the circle. He grins at you, “You’re pretty fast with a needle - maybe you can help me with my overcoat! I tried to fix it with magic but it just doesn’t look right.”

You nod slowly, “I can see what I can do.”

The bowl is held under your nose and you look up at Charlie who grins expectantly, “Alright! Share your favorite memory first.”

Oh yeah, you forgot about having to participate with your own answer. You stare into the bowl before closing your eyes, “I remember… the first time I got to sleep in a bed. Well, a mattress pad, really-“ you laughed softly, eyes opening, “Right after ojciec and matka sold my brother and I, the organization gave us a room- our first one because we had lived in an alley before that- and there were two mattresses on the floor. I think we were so happy we cried.” You laugh at the memory, “We pushed the things together and slept under a blanket and I think it was the best sleep I’ve ever had.” Your heart ached at thinking about your brother, missing his presence more each second after having to watch him die.

“You were sold as a child?”

You startle at the question, but look at Charlie whose face has sunken, “Why would they-“

You laugh, eyes crinkling, “A lot of kids were at the time if they were healthy and lucky enough to have parents.” You start to pick at your fingers again, “We had it a lot easier than some - at least our owners fed and clothed us regularly and well.”

Angel Dust gave a slow whistle and laughed awkwardly, “Damn - owners, huh? Are you sure you aren’t hell born?”

Your finger breaks off again with a snap, but you grip it tightly in response, not having put it together yourself. Your life was never meant to be your own - your body and mind belonged to the men who owned you when you were alive, and now your soul and free will belonged to a man who owned you in hell. Your silence unnerved Angel Dust, “S-sorry, toots. I wasn’t thinkin- I just meant, ya know….”

You put the bowl onto the floor and stand, dusting off your skirt before laughing awkwardly, “I just need a minute, sorry.” You rush away before Alastor can make you stay and sit against your door, locking it this time so no one can come in.

The wood is cool against the back of your neck as you lean against the door, legs spread out on the floor. Well…. Fuck…

A delicate knock sounded behind you and you tensed, but let go as you heard Angel Dust quietly apologizing at the door, “I’m really sorry, I wasn’t tryin’ to upset you.”

You sigh and stand, cracking the door open, “It’s not you - I just don’t think I had ever put together that on my own and it surprised me. I’m not mad, I just need to think.”

His eyes looked away sadly, “If ya ever wanna talk, I’m here. I don’t own my soul neither - so I can kinda relate. Half relate, I guess.”

You smile in appreciation, “Thanks. I’ll be back down in a bit, I promise.”

He looks at you one last time, “Are ya sure ya wanna be alone right now?”

You hummed in consideration, but nodded, “Just for a bit, please.”

He nods and turns to leave and you shut and lock the door again, this time lying flat on the floor and staring up at the ceiling.

You weren’t sure how long you had been staring at nothing, but apparently it was too long because a grin appeared in your vision, Alastor leaning over you with narrowed eyes, “Are you done having your tantrum? It’s nearly dinner and Charlie is distraught thinking her game was a terrible idea.”

You frown, turning onto your side to face away from him, “I’m not used to this yet - I need some time to adjust.”

He appeared out of shadows laying in his side beside you, holding his head up with the hand resting on its elbow in front of him, “Adjust on your own time - our deal means that you appear and are here because I need you to perform a task. I could call upon another soul if you’d prefer and put you back-“

You scramble up, “No! Don’t send me back there, please?” You shook anxiously at the thought of nothing again, “I-I’m sorry, I’ll come back down. Do I need to help cook or-“

He appeared standing before you and rolled his eyes, grin still in place, “No - you need to correct your mistake and let Charlie know it was your error, not hers. Now.”

You nod in fear and rush to the door, unlocking it and rushing down - but you weren’t expecting to lose a foot on the way down the stairs. Because you hadn’t been paying attention and were rushing to find Charlie, you bent your ankle at an unnatural angle and the stitches tore, sending it flying towards the lounge. You stumbled forward down the stairs. Your head and shoulders made contact with the ground exactly twice before you felt weightless. Alastor had put you back, you assumed, panic welling in your stomach and spilling out as tears from your eyes as you sobbed.

“I-I’m sorry - I promised I’d ask for permission, but you were falling and… I’m so sorry.”

You blinked through your tears, staring up at Lucifer who had thought he had broken your boundaries again AND hurt you, “It’s not dark?”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Let me put you down-“

You gripped onto him tighter, arms wrapped around his neck and your fingers digging into his shoulders, “I don’t want to go back…”

He frowned at the display, but kept his hold on you once he landed, “The overland? You can’t really go back there-“

“The dark…”

He could feel your tears soaking through his shirt and lifted a hand to pat your head in comfort despite not fully understanding your emotional outburst, “Okay. You don’t have to go back.”

You gasped and let go of him, grey eyes staring into his red ones, “Promise?”

He felt his pride flair at the desperate look in your face, “Promise.”

You seemed to blink out of whatever emotion you had been in and let go of him, “S-sorry, it’s been a tough day.”

He nodded in mock understanding- he really had no idea what the fuck just happened but if he could comfort someone and help Charlie at the same time, he was going to do it, “Dinner is almost ready, want to head to the dining room?”

“I-is Charlie there?”

“Yeah.”

You nod and he holds out your foot in his hand to you, “You dropped this earlier - do you need help or do you want to lean on me and put it back on when we get to a chair?”

You take your foot, “That’s so embarrassing, I’m so sorry. If you could just help me to the bar I can do it really quick and you can take me to Charlie so I can apologize.”

He smiled and lifted you with surprising ease, walking you over to the bar where he placed you carefully on a stool. You thanked him and lifted your leg onto the barstool beside you on top of your removed foot and sewed it up quickly. You frown, knowing you’ll have to be careful and reattach it later with a better thread, but this would work for now.

You stand, testing your weight on it, hop a few times and then look at Lucifer, “Where is the dining room?”

He holds out his elbow as an offer, raising his eyebrow in question. Was this guy just overly touchy? You stared at his arm until his face turned a little embarrassed like he was going to retract the offer, but you reached out in that moment, hooking your arm with his. His eyes widened, and he took a deep breath, but he seemingly decided to inwardly savor the moment and escorted you to a room down the hall from the lounge area where Charlie was happily setting a table for dinner.

You let go of Lucifer, but squeeze his arm in thanks before walking over to Charlie and lightly tapping her shoulder. She jumps, eyes wide at you, “O-oh, Anne!” She looked down and clasped her hands together nervously, “I’m so sorry about the exercise- I didn’t realize-“

You put your hands on hers and she looks into your eyes instead of the floor in surprise, “No, I’m sorry. I was having a moment and wasn’t considering how it would affect you and the others. If I get in a feeling like that again, I’ll try to communicate to let you know what’s happening in my head. It isn’t your fault - I hadn’t realized-“ you stopped yourself when Alastor appeared across the room and sighed, “I guess I’m just not meant to be free, is all.”

Charlie frowned, “Are you under a soul contract?”

Alastor chose that moment to tap his cane against the ground, “What’s for dinner tonight?”

Charlie jumped, but didn’t let go of your hands, “We can talk later, okay?” She smiled and let go before bouncing to Alastor, “Vaggie said paella - she was really excited to share it with us and it smells so good!”

“You okay? You look nervous.”

You glance beside you at Lucifer, who sounds concerned, but has his focus completely on Alastor and Charlie. You smile slightly, “Yeah, thanks. Just been a while since I’ve been around people.”

He glanced over to you and raised an eyebrow, but doesn’t pry. Instead he looks to his daughter again, “Is Alastor someone I can trust my daughter with?”

You look over at the two and Alastor glances your way with narrowed eyes. You sigh, “I honestly have no idea.”

“I thought you two were old friends.”

“Friends is not a term I would use…” You glance at Lucifer, “But he saved my brother from extermination, so I owe him my life.”

Lucifer looks at you once again, eyebrows raised, “Your brother is in hell, too? Why aren’t you with him?”

“Because I owe Alastor, and my brother is in a soul contract that I can’t get him out of unless I have something worth trading - he’s not allowed to leave the home of his owner without permission per his contract, and he refused to let me meet his owner so I can’t do anything or be with him.”

“That’s so sad… who owns him?”

You shrug and decide that’s enough spilling your life story. You move down the table and sit at an open seat as people start to fill in from the hotel. Charlie wasn’t joking when she said the hotel had a lot of interest - this was many more people than you had imagined seeing at a project meant for rehabilitation.

Angel Dust takes the seat beside you carefully, “Do you mind me bein ya neighbor for dinner?”

You flash a small smile, “Not at all.”

He grinned and the two of you made small talk until dinner was served.

It was warm. You imagined if you had family dinners, this is what it would have sounded and felt like. You stayed mostly quiet during dinner, eating and enjoying the light banter around you. You looked around the table and found Lucifer’s gaze was on you. He waved his fingers and smiled and you snorted, but nodded in greeting.

Angel Dust elbowed you with his lower set of arms, “Are you flirtin with the big dick in charge?”

You choke on a piece of chicken at the comment and Angel Dust panics, patting your back roughly and apologizing profusely until you’re down to just coughs. You widen your eyes and stare at Angel Dust in disbelief, “I just met him- why would I be flirting?!”

He blinks,”I flirt with guys I don’t know all the time. It’s not that weird. Also, I was joking.”

You are too embarrassed to look for a reaction from anyone else and decide to just stare at your food until you’ve finished. You look up at Angel Dust once you’ve gained your courage back, “Thanks for earlier, by the way. I really did appreciate you making sure I was okay.”

He grinned again, “Of course!”

When dinner ended, the large group had shuffled to the lounge and were participating in jovial conversation and games at Charlie’s behest. You smile softly, leaning against a wall away from the crowd. You hadn’t ever imagined seeing such a wholesome image in Hell, not once had you seen this kind of joy and camaraderie in a group of people since your arrival. Maybe this really wasn’t so bad a situation even if you didn’t fully own your life.

“You look tired.”

You look to your side where Lucifer is leaning against the apple of his cane, eyes on the crowd with a wistful smile across his face. He was so expressive - you know you had thought about it earlier, but even in life you can’t remember knowing anyone that was so easy to read emotionally, “I am. I think I may go to bed early - I need to really hit the ground running tomorrow.”

He turns his head to you and holds out a hand, “It was nice to meet you today - if you ever need to talk, I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

You take the hand and shake it lightly, and he grins down at the connection, “I appreciate that. Sorry about my outburst earlier…. I don’t normally use new acquaintances as shoulders to cry on.”

He squeezed your hand in comfort and looked into your face with the same smile he was staring at the crowd at with, “It’s no big deal - consider it forgotten until you feel comfortable talking about it. Unless you don’t want me to forget, then consider it remembered? You know what? Consider it whatever you want.” He laughed nervously, eyes now avoiding yours.

You let out a laugh at his awkwardness and pull your hand out of his, “Thanks.” You stretch and sigh, “If anyone asks just let them know I’ll be out bright and early tomorrow.” You also needed to make sure all of your stitches were attached decently before you put your whole self into this job. It’d be awkward to lose an arm, ear, or toe while trying to help someone. You leave, not waiting for a response, but you can feel his gaze on you as you ascend the stairs to the hall where your room is - it made you almost feel safe.

You reached for your door and a familiar static played in your ears. You sighed and opened your door and looked up at Alastor, “Need to chat?”

“So perceptive!”

You motion to the door and let him walk in before entering and closing the door yourself.

He grins at you, “Just a few notes about your performance!”

“Sure.” You move to sit on your bed and start to remove the foot that had fallen off, digging through your pocket for a more industrial strength thread before taking to reattaching your foot more securely.

“First - you know that you cannot let people know that I own you.”

“Figured.”

“I also see that our King seems to be curious about you….”

You look up at him, confused, “What do you mean?”

“Just that he hasn’t attempted to be that cordial with anyone but his daughter and her girlfriend since moving into the hotel.” He looks at his nails, “I would like for you to take advantage of this fancy and get to know him better.”

You laugh flatly, “Why? So you can exploit some weakness that I find against him?”

“Precisely.” His chipper tone catches your attention again and he continues, “What? You gain a new friend and I gain some valuable information - it seems like a winning situation on both fronts.”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Nope!” He laughed with an amused joy and moved to sit beside you on the bed, “You are such a pleasant employee- keep this up and maybe I’ll help you get some time to spend with your brother.”

You drop your needle and look at Alastor with wide eyes, “Y-you can do that?”

“Do you doubt that I have the ability to?”

“No, I just…. Thank you! I’ll do my best.” You pick your needle up with shaking hands and finish the final stitch at your ankle, “Can it be soon? I…. I’d like to see him.”

Alastor hums in consideration, “Tell you what - I’ll arrange for a meeting once you bring me a factoid about our friend Lucifer that I find particularly interesting.”

“Interesting in what sense?”

“Something I can use, darling. Bring me things until you bring me something that makes me go ‘Oooh!’!” He stood and gave you a curt pat on the head, “Sleep well, pet! I can’t wait to hear what you bring me! Ooh! Let’s plan for a weekly tea!” He claps his hands in amusement, “A week from today, weekly, we will meet in my tower and have a chat of a nice cup of tea. See you then!”

And he was gone.

You sigh and flop onto your back on the bed. Your afterlife really was the same as your life. You were just a tool for information gathering, but this time you didn’t have your brother to comfort you after a particularly hard day. You rolled onto your side and curled your limbs against yourself as sleep overtook you - you hadn’t slept in so long, it was a welcome change.

[starlightguh]

Lovin’ Me Like Tequila Does

Word count: 1,596

Tags: Alcohol, dancing, slight cowboy Sylus

Summary: You were giving Sylus a bit of a cold shoulder because of a hard week of work, and decided to chase your woes away with your friends in a country bar.

A/N: After getting tequila as a food recommendation and Miranda Lambert’s song coming on my playlist, I felt compelled to write this. True experience for me is my line dancing teacher and I did a bikini bull riding contest at a country bar, so drew major inspiration from that since while I didn’t win, I pictured a laughing Sylus the whole time. Anyways, enjoy this quickie one shot!

He pissed me off.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Sylus dearly, he makes my heart flutter and loves me better than any other man will. But sometimes we’re like oil and water when it comes to our life styles.

Since he was the leader of Onychinus something his job got in the way of mine. A certain protocore had been going around and once he got his hands on it, he ended up trading it for some intel, which lead to the person he traded it to creating more wanders.

I had been busting my ass off in the no hunt zone for the past week, I was so pissed off at him when I found out I’ve been leaving him on read and giving the hardest cold shoulder I can.

Every crow I’ve seen I’ve been using as target practice to ensure he wasn’t spying on me. I currently couldn’t care if he was stalking me, he made me work so hard this week he deserves some tough love and he better work hard to earn my favor back.

My phone buzzed with another text, I glanced at the preview of the message.

Sweetie, please this is all a misunderstanding, I’m sorry.

Sorry doesn’t sweeten my tea or help my back pain asshole, I mentally tsked to myself as I closed my phone and finished styling my hair.

After killing what feels like a million wanderers on patrol, I got a day off. Tara and Simone had invited me out to a girls night at one of the bars in town. It was some country themed bar, Tara was really into westerns lately and wanted to check it out.

The bar had a girls night where the liquor was a bit cheaper, and I planned on getting drunk to chase away my woes. So I didn’t care what kinda place it was as long as the drinks were cheap.

I did do my best to try and fit the country theme as I put on daisy dukes and a cow print mini tank top. I hummed and ignored the constant buzzing of my phone as I got ready to look hot and have fun. Sylus can wait. I had earned a drunken night with my friends.

————————————-

When we walked into the dimly lit bar, it was mainly lit up with beer neon signs and fairy lights all around. I’m the middle of the place was a dance floor where the thunderous sound of cowboy boots stomped in rhythm to the beat of an unfamiliar upbeat country tune.

“This is awesome! Oh wow look at the dancers that looks so fun! Right?” Tara was over the moon at the atmosphere.

My body shifted to head toward the barstools in the further corner of the venue, “Yeah you should go dance with Simone, I’m going to drink.”

“Oh don’t be like that, you should dance with us at least once,” Simone looked at me with puppy eyes.

“Fine. But at least let me get drunk first?” I responded with a laugh.

Both girls nodded and suddenly we were cheers-ing margaritas at the bar. As soon as the sweet sting of tequila touched my lips did my aching body feel relaxed from the high strung stress this work week put me through.

Simone and Tara had ventured off to attempt to go learn a line dance while I stayed at the bar and chased this delicious buzz thrumming through my body.

“Two shots of Clase Azul for me and the lady please,” a deep voice purred behind me.

Too lost in licking the salt rim of my drink did I noticed the shot glass placed in front of me.

“Listen cowboy, I’m not interested-“ I stopped dead in my tracks to turn around and be met with Sylus in a black leather cowboy hat.

“Mmm? Sure bout’ that kitten?” Sylus winked at me with a mock southern drawl.

“What are you doing here?” I huffed, “You’re in time out with me.”

“Oh? Is that what this is?” Sylus chuckled a bit, “You know I can’t stay away from you long. Look sweetie, I didn’t mean for all of this to happen. Had I known that idiot was going to make more work for my precious darling, I would have never given it to him.”

I gave him a flat expression as I chugged the last of my cocktail. I placed my head in my hand and looked at him, “Hmm I knew deep down you didn’t mean to do it,” as his face brightened up, I leaned forward with a charged pissed off energy, “But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna punish you for putting me through hell. So suffer.”

I smirked and placed the shot he bought me between my teeth and tilted my head back to let the stinging burn warm my insides up and make me feel even more floaty.

Sylus just frowned at me and placed his hands on the bar to cage me in at my barstool. “Please let me make it up to you…How can I get back in your good graces?” There was an edge of desperation in his voice, it ignited fire that the tequila in my system was the fuel for.

“Hmm,” I smiled and leaned back against the bar more to look at him, my eyes shifted to the dance floor with a cowboy trying to twirl both a giddy Tara and a nervous Simone, “Get me drunk and ask me to dance. Let’s see if you got what it takes to make me relax.”

His red eyes widened in shock as he blinked down at me, “Is that all kitten?”

“For right now, yes. You do also owe me a back massage, but that’s a problem for later,” I chuckle. Next thing I know I take the shot glass from his hand and tilt my head back as I place the bottom of the shot glass between my teeth as I quirk my head back and point for him to take his drink.

Sylus chuckles as he leans his torso over me and his teeth grip the glass from me and he leans his head back to take the shot from my mouth. I laugh at the slight scrunch in his face at the burn of the liquor.

“Wanna go shot for shot?” I tease him.

“Absolutely not, you’re already a bit drunk I can tell.” He grabs my chin, “I only like a fair fight.”

“Fine by me, but just know I can probably out drink you.” I chuckle as Sylus flags down the bartender for another round.

By a third round of shots, I had his large calloused palms dragging me to the dance floor, and the other on the dip of my waist.

A slow but upbeat country song played in the background, and in my drunken haze I felt like no one else was on this dance floor. Sylus, the more sober between us, twirled me with ease. But I still managed to help add my own flare to twirls and dips as we danced.

Cause he don’t love me like tequila does, the song rang out as I had my dominant leg raised to my hip and slowly pointing out past the apex of his waist. Sylus let out a whistle at my flexibility as we continued our dance.

The yellow glow of the fairy lights in the bar seemed to blurr into a cinematic haze as my mind tried to focus on the burning red stare of Sylus’ gaze. As he dipped me at the end of the song and slowly lifted both of us back up, I playfully grabbed his cowboy hat and placed it on my head.

As Sylus put his hand on my waist and led me back to the bar he sensually whispered in my ear, “Sweetie…Do you know what it means to take a cowboys hat like that?”

I turn around and look at him with a confused look, “No? What are you talking about?”

As Sylus laughs and is about to answer my question, Tara comes up to me and grabs a hold of my hand uttering my name over and over in an excited squeak.

“Simone entered the bikini bull riding contest! Come on, let's go cheer!” Tara exclaimed as she all but dragged me to the adjourned room in the bar that had a mechanical bull shaking its patrons around like rag dolls.

“She what now?” I asked and turned around to shrug at the laughing figure of Sylus behind me. I took his hat and placed it back on his head.

“Sorry honey, I’m gonna have fun with my girls, I’ll put you out of timeout though and call you when I get home?” I asked with a pleading look. The last thing I wanted was more work if Tara or Simone caught on to his true identity thanks to my loose drunken tongue.

“Fine. But close out my tab, drinks are on me tonight sweetie. Be safe,” he placed his hat back on my head, “Don’t dance with anyone else. I’ll know if you do. And don’t take any more cowboy hats besides mine either, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be safe,” I rolled my eyes and hopped into his arms a bit as I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a deep kiss. His tongue entered my mouth, and as I explored his, I chased the high, the burn, and the bitterness of tequila on his tongue.

[buckwheeler]

Little Xmas something! (Also on ao3) Hope you’re all having a nice holiday (if you’re into that kind of thing) ❤️

Christmas Eve, Hawkins, 1992

After dinner, Steve kissed a cheek of each parent, pulled his old winter coat on, and set off toward The Hideaway by foot. It wasn’t a long walk, but it wasn’t nothing. Hawkins was frosty and fresh- a very thin dusting of snow, illuminated by the sparse streetlights, by twinkling trees decorating front lawns, by the warmly lit living rooms and bedrooms of the suburbs, and then by the neon signs in the storefronts downtown. He buried his hands in the warm, generously lined pockets, and felt his fingers close around a packet of cigarettes, an old receipt, a handful of coins, a bracelet. He pulled the receipt out for inspection. Melvalds, just milk and cereal and a ten pack of Budweiser. Dated 1987. He pulled the bracelet out too. It was one of those rubbery type ones, had clearly said something on it that had scratched off, worn away. One of the kids, probably. Or Robin. Or Eddie.

By the time he made it to the square he was red faced and shivering. Should have thought to grab a hat and gloves. He hung out for a moment on the street, anyway, and smoked one of the old discovered cigarettes. He grimaced at the taste, unused to the lack of menthol filter. Hawkins was as pretty as ever. Quaint. Unassuming. It was the same little storybook as ever. Every time he came home, no matter how many years passed, how things changed, how much the shape of his life evolved and he grew up, and no matter how many miles away he’d travelled, he was sent right back. Walking through his hometown, he was overcome with memories; unconsciously, on every corner. Childhood, teenage-hood, those lost years as a young adult. He got this anxious, aimless, dreadful, nostalgic, excited, turbulent feeling that just simmered away quietly under his skin. This muted, warped, strange kind of grief. Some street where some person from high school lived, where he’d once slept over. A store he’d gone into once with Robin. A neck of the woods not far from where he’d once fought a monster. An alley down which Eddie had pulled him, just to kiss him, once, under his jaw.

He stubbed out the cigarette and crossed the street and walked into the bar.

It was all the usual suspects. Murray was going on some tirade, propped up against the bar. Nancy was listening to him with one eyebrow raised, her hand linked with Jonathan, who was paying more attention to the jukebox. Robin was sat on a stool to his other side, rolling her eyes and interrupting. Wayne was laughing, rolling himself a smoke. Eddie, who’d been leaning over the bar, trying to get the bartender’s attention, turned around the second Steve walked in. And grinned.

Wayne didn’t stay long. Nancy and Jon shuffled off a little after. Then Murray started yawning. By midnight it was just Steve, Robin and Eddie around the little corner table, by the window, watching the snow fall lightly, watching the rainbow string-lights changing colours.

“Merry Christmas boys,” Robin smiled, holding up her drink for clinking. They returned the merry wish. They shared a bowl of peanuts.

“You’re really happy in Chicago, then?” Eddie asked, over a cigarette, later, after Robin had gone home and the bar had shut and the two of them had lingered outside.

“Yeah,” Steve shrugged. “Yeah, it’s just, fine for now.”

Eddie ashed and it flew and caught Steve’s neck, weirdly, and for a second the cherry kissed him, and it burned.

“You really happy in New York?” Steve asked.

“I’m as happy as I could be anywhere,” Eddie shrugged. He stubbed out his cigarette and immediately started rolling another. Steve’s cheeks were numb, his ears too, his fingers. He watched the beautiful way Eddie’s hair whipped his face, his dark hair against his pale skin, the moon light, the light, light snow. Eddie’s beautiful hands, pinching the filter to the paper. His broad, gorgeous, hunched shoulders. Where his tummy was protruding over his belt. Steve wanted to undo it, for all different kinds of reasons.

“Sure,” Eddie shrugged. “I dunno.”

Steve took a step closer to him. He didn’t really decide to, and then he was just pressing their cold cheeks together. Eddie sighed.

“So funny. This time of year. Being here. Every time, I just think of you. I cant stop thinking of you. As if we never broke up. As if it’s five years ago.” Steve said it all to the wall, with his arm resting on Eddie’s shoulder and his chin hooked on his arm, and their cold cheeks getting warmer from being pressed together.

“Me too,” Eddie said. “I guess I always will.” Steve felt him pull a drag, felt him wrap an arm around Steve’s middle. “But that’s what I’m always like, when I hear your name. Whenever anything reminds me of you. Your laundry detergent or something.”

They were tipsy words. They were all true. It was all just true, in the way things always were with them. So true it was almost simple. Despite all the places it was so hard. The places where the screws turned and it bruised and nobody could see each other properly. They were very dear to each other. That was just a great big fact.

“You look beautiful,” Steve said, pulling away to smile at him. “You’re a devastatingly handsome person. Did you know that?”

“Sure,” Eddie laughed. “Come here.”

It was one of those swaying, drunken kisses. Swaying like the world was swaying and they were just moving with it, staying upright. Under the big moon, on that ugly, pretty street. Eddie’s cold hands cradled his face. Then wrapped around him. They dipped, laughed a bit.

“Alright,” Steve whispered.

“Alright,” Eddie agreed, and squeezed him one more time.

“Happy Christmas,” Eddie yelled, squinting, snow in his eyelashes.

“Happy Christmas,” Steve called back, walking backwards, down the street, away from him, home. “See you in the new year.”

[flowers-of-io]

This Love Is War [Osmium siblings fanmix]

Listen on Spotify

//song list and lore under the cut//

1. Your Bones – Of Monsters And Men (snatched from @cappurrccino​)

This year of wild voyaging, these lightning nights and golden days, these forays into ancient wrecks and windblown flights from monsters: these are the happiest times of my life.

In the spring we made a boat Out of feathers, out of bones We set fire to our homes Walking barefoot in the snow

“We have to dive,” Sathona said, following the whispers of her familiar. “In the world beneath us, in the metallic depths, I hope we may find what we need most...” More time. More life.

All that’s left are your bones That will soon sink like stones

2. Against The Tide – Celldweller (snatched from @xivu-arath​)

When I’m paralyzed by fear, Xi Ro sits in the cabin with me and comforts me with soft, brave words. But more and more we have come to rely on Sathona’s wit.

I feel your grip firm on my shoulder But this fear in my head won't subside They patiently circle around us As we hold out

“We three will die here, in exile. Taox will outlive us. And Aurash, brilliant-eyed Aurash, you will die of old age long before you have proof of your God-Wave, or any way to stop it.”

We’re losing light And strength of will The darkened depths beckoning still And we hold on against the tide

They heard the collision of continents. They heard the patter and the crash of helium-neon rain. They heard the struggles of monsters. And they heard the distant groan of the ocean rising. Tugged by distant moons. “The syzygy is real...” Sathona hissed. “It’s already begun.”

The ending that we knew would come Has finally begun

We ask one thing in exchange, oh Princes. You must obey your nature forever. In your immortality, Aurash, you may never cease to explore and inquire, for the sake of your children. In your immortality, Xi Ro, you may never cease to test your strength. In your immortality, Sathona, you may never abandon cunning.

You’re reaping what you’ve sown You’re reaping what you’ve sown

3. This Is Love – The Hunts (snatched from @xivu-arath​)

Your ancestors endured the most hostile conditions. And now you must go on creating those conditions. Even unto your sisters. Even unto your offspring. Savathûn’s betrayal is the greatest gift she could offer you.

This is love, this is war This is not about revenge or what I felt before This is love, this is more

4. Sound of War – Tommee Profitt ft. Fleurie

At your back like a loaded gun And the night has just begun Steady now, breathe, breathe

You are dead, young Auryx. Betrayed and murdered by your own sister, for the crime of mercy.

Hold your breath Close your eyes Turn your ear to the sky You’re not safe here anymore This is the sound of war

5. Run Baby Run – The Rigs

I killed my sister today. […]

Savathûn and her broods have liberated the Qugu from jaw-beasts, and indeed from existence. But as they chased the Qugu ark-ships, I stopped in to vaporize my sister’s warship and a few of her underlings. I want to dwell on the ruins a while, and punish Savathûn for failing to guard her flank.

Love can’t protect you now The love that I can’t feel It’ll only break you down

So wait Keep your heart inside My hands won’t keep it safe I’ll just feed on dreams and Smile as hope slowly dies

6. This Is Love – Air Traffic Controller

Brother Auryx, said SAVATHÛN, do not forgive my betrayal. Instead, take vengeance upon me for what I did at the dry moon! And AURYX made war on her, in worship of the Deep. Between them stood XIVU ARATH saying, stop, or I will kill you, war is mine and I am strongest. [...]

Such was their love.

Yeah, I know wrong, I know right But I just love to pick a fight I can sleep with one eye open If there’s any sleep at night

I got my knife, got my gun Let’s see how fast you can run You might think that you can hurt me But the damage has been done

7. We Have It All – Pim Stones

Oryx looks at her and for a moment, just a moment, he is nostalgic, he is sentimental. He thinks, imagine the years behind us, the things we’ve done. And yet being old doesn’t feel like a scar, does it? It hasn’t left me dull. I feel alive, alive with you, and every time I step back into this world from my throne I feel like I’m two years old again, at the bottom of the universe, looking up.

Our hearts we have sold For diamonds and gold But hey, baby, take a look We have it all

Hear me Can you hear me? I am calling out to you for the last time

8. We Must Be Killers – Mikky Ekko

I’m walking down the road, I’m going to the orrery to talk to my dad, and I hear, well, I hear this noise, so I look back. And my sisters are behind me, and they’re ripping up the road. They’ve got these huge swords, execution swords, and they’re levering the stones out of the road. The stones are covered in writing. They’re like tablets. And there’s dirt underneath full of worms.

I woke up, I was stuck in a dream You were there, you were tearing up everything But we all know how to fake it, baby And we all know what we’ve done

“Where are my sisters?” Aurash shouts. “What have you done with my people? What have you done?”

We must be killers Children of the wild ones Killers Where we’ve got left to run?

9. Bottom of the River – Delta Rae

I love mighty Xivu more than a moon loves the tide. I’ll kill her for this. Over and over, forever and ever.

Hold my hand Oh, baby, it’s a long way down to the bottom of the river Hold my hand Oh, baby, it’s a long way down, a long way down

10. Krigsgaldr – Heilung (rec by @knightscendant​)

I think that Savathûn and Xivu Arath are trying to steal the tablets from me. They must have cut off my tribute while I was away communing with the Deep. I love them so dearly. No one else is clever or strong enough to try to break me. No one else can give me this gift.

I let the blade do the talking So my tongue shall become iron And my words the mighty roar of war

Oryx my Brother is the bravest thing I know. Upon Fundament he learned that we were the natural prey of the universe, the most frail and desperate of things. He thought about this carefully and he found a way to fix it. He made us strong. He will lead us into eternity. Oryx my Brother loves me and this love is war.

Beloved brother enemy I sing my sword song for you The lullaby of obliteration So I can wake up with a smile And bliss in my heart And bliss in my heart And bliss in my heart

11. I Love You… I’ll Kill You – Enigma (snatched from @knightscendant​)

I think joy and sorrow will be the same thing soon. Like love and death.

Look into the mirror of your soul Love and hate are one in all Sacrifice turns to revenge and believe me You’ll see the face who’ll say: I love you, I'll kill you But I’ll love you forever

So I start eating my dad. I bite huge pieces out of him and I claw him up. I eat his legs and I eat his arms and I eat his goggles and his eyes and he says, good, good, this is majestic and true. But my sisters are still tearing up the road so I don’t know how to get back.    

Loneliness, I feel loneliness in my room

12. Thanatos – Soap&Skin (snatched from @xivu-arath​)

“I have a gift for you,” says Oryx. Savathûn, Witch-Queen, looks at him with dry wariness.

Watch the bend of my wandering Of hunting with the lightning gun

She looks back at him with eyes like hot needles. “I like that,” she says. “That’s elegant.” Although of course she has had this thought before.

Torn open tomb I fell in your Cold fission bomb I fell in your war

13. Just Beneath the Flames – Digital Daggers (snatched from @cappurrccino​)

“I don’t have a strict proof yet, you know.” Savathûn strokes the void with one long claw and space-time groans beneath her touch. “This thing we believe — that we’re liberating the universe by devouring it, that we’re cutting out the rot, that we’re on course to join the final shape — I haven’t found a strict, eternal proof. We might yet be wrong.”

We were kings and queens of bedlam We were happy to exist In discomfort we’d created Though we dreamed of more than this

I am reminded of my home. I am reminded of the warmth of the sun and the embrace of my family. I am reminded of my father’s face. I am reminded of everyone I betrayed. All the blood spilled in the name of immortality. The warmth of the sun burns me with its memory.

We’re at a stalemate, Begging for the earth to shake Wondering if the winds will change And blow us all away We are in the dark age Tell me it was worth the pain

14. Love and War – Fleurie

(I have a fic about this!)

Do you know the last time I spoke with my brother? It was just before you killed him. I told him he would die. And he said, “I am always glad to die.”

In life, in love, this time I can’t afford to lose For one, for all, I'll do what I have to do You can’t understand, it’s all part of the plan

Broken pieces of the night Sing like hollow lullabies You and I, always in disguises

15. Lanterns Lit – Son Lux

Memory rushes in Then washes you away I am losing you to the sea

If you had a single flaw You just could not last forever, could you? You just could not last for me

16. King’s Descent – Destiny 2: The Witch Queen Original Soundtrack

And so I look upon her today, my Witness, absent a brother. Loss—true and consequential loss—is new to her palette, but she hides her distaste for the bitter well. […]

“Congratulations, then? I suppose after so many eons of killing one another to build your strength, his final end must feel like quite the accomplishment. No more must your wits dabble against his play-mortality. Now, only matters of consequence will occupy your precious time.”

17. I Am Stretched on Your Grave – Sinéad O’Connor

“Those two killed each other about a million times over, but she dedicated a temple to him. Eh, it’s funny how that works.”

And with you in your cold grave I cannot sleep warm

So I am stretched on your grave And I’ll lie here forever If your hands were in mine I’d be sure they would not sever

18. Wave Your Flags – PHILDEL

What do I do? What do I do? Here in the darkness with you With you?

Have you hid enough? Camouflaged yourself from love Hard to make it stop Hard to slow what’s speeding up

19. Cover Me – Black Math

Impress me with your silence I'm hanging on your eyelids As we softly stir the violence

[Xivu Arath, hear me.] [You are war, and I conjure you with war and blood.] [A gift for my favorite sister.]

And if I cover you Say you will cover me

20. Beautiful Crime – Tamer

I have to make an end so we begin To save my soul at any cost

We fight every night for something When the sun sets, we’re both the same Half in the shadows Half burned in flames

“It might surprise you to hear, but everything my siblings and I have done has been for each other. […] You’d do anything for your family, chosen or otherwise. Go to any lengths to avenge them.”

Take what you need, say your goodbyes I give you everything This darkness is the light This darkness is the light

21. Edge Of The World – Within Temptation (rec by @starlunakitsube​)

“Siblings, bonded by cosmic fate, forever orbiting one another like binary stars... Mara reminds me of my sister. She’s afraid. Holding on so tightly because she can’t bear to lose one more thing... But we all have to let go.”

Cannot carry you, carry you, carry you now The truth can’t bare the sunlight You’re afraid for the day it does

I’m gonna run to the edge of the world Run to the edge of the world Feel that I’m gonna get home if I try

22. Love in the Dark - Adele

Please, stay where you are Don’t come any closer Don't try to change my mind I'm being cruel to be kind

“When I am separated from my worm, I'll be separated from Xivu Arath too. And then my sister will be alone. The last of us.”

It is the world to me That you are in my life But I want to live and not just survive

That’s why I can’t love you in the dark It feels like we’re oceans apart There is so much space between us Maybe we’re already defeated

“But as much as I care for her... I cannot stay like this.”

Everything changed me And I don’t think you can save me

23. What Have You Done – Within Temptation feat. Mina Caputo

I know I’d better stop trying You know that there’s no denying I won’t show mercy on you now

“The attacks against the Blind Well have become stronger lately.” “Is Xivu Arath trying to rescue Savathûn?” “Xivu Arath has plans for her sister. They do not involve a rescue.”

Would you mind if I killed you? Would you mind if I tried to? ‘Cause you have turned into my worst enemy You carry hate that I don’t feel It's over now, what have you done?

24. Silent Running – Hidden Citizens

It leads into a recounting of Savathûn: banished, branded as heretic and set to burn. […] She is still hunted by the hounds of war. Her pursuer has no local story to recount here, for it is yet to be written in blood.

Can you hear me? Can you hear me running? Can you hear me running, can you hear me calling you?

[chews-straws]

💭 Neon Genesis Evangelion Headcanons

Asuka

Listens to MARINA

Probably bullies Americans

Would make fun of blondes like some people make fun of red heads

Might listen to Mitski and then bully Shinji for listening to it, but she secretly likes it aswell

Her hair probably puffs up from humidity and will fight anyone who comments on it

Was teased for having red hair, until she beat them up

A literal girlboss

Mommy issues (I’m sorry)

She would use twitter just to make people fight online

Rei

Listens to Mitski because Shinji recommended it, now it’s all she listens to.

Asuka makes fun of her for it but she does not give one damn

Tried growing out her hair once

Has gotten the “of course you have blue hair and pronouns” comment once

A dry texter, would leave you on seen

Incredibly formal for no reason

Asuka tried curling her hair once, it didn’t go well.

Listens to Mitski with shinji for hours on end without saying a word

Kaworu

Listens to Mitski just so that he can listen to it with shinji

Asuka tried dying his hair once, but he decided to keep it natural

Tried writing shinji a love poem once

He has his own personal aesthetic of light colours, unless shinji recommends it he won’t wear dark colours

Probably a hot chocolate person, that or just plain water.

Goes over the top for anything shinji related

He has his own skincare and haircare routine that he sometimes does with Asuka.

Tried wearing contacts once. Then glasses.

Uses “:)” “<3” when texting shinji

Like Rei, he’s formal but in a fancy way

Shinji

Listens to Mitski religiously

Listened to Mother Mother once or twice

Wears matching outfits with kaworu

Says he wants to get his ears pierced but is afraid of the pain

Tried styling his hair better, but it didn’t fit him

Once his mother messed up his haircut and he had a bowl cut for a while…

Used ChatGPT to make replies for people who text him when he’s not feeling like texting back, unless it’s kaworu

Would go gazing at the moon with kaworu

Constantly gets bullied online by asuka </3

Therapy sessions with kaworu

Sometimes he starts to ramble a lot and apologizes profusely when he realizes what he’s doing (kaworu just sits and listens)

Probably got into astrology at some point

Bet you Lookism folks didn’t expect a NGE post mwuahaha,,,!!! My content is now a mixed bag