#anyone else trying to figure out why he has a different accent from his brothers

[cybertron-smash-or-pass]

RiD 01 X-Brawn

[dorminchu]

Between Heaven and Earth: Chapter Two

Another morning, another day spent in enemy territory. The date in the ledgers and newspapers and Grice's letters was always the same. One thousand and sixty four years away from home. Six into her term. Seven left for a civilian life back in Marley. If the situation didn't improve, her father's request might be his last.

A few days ago, she'd been training as usual, with Jaeger. On the way to the mess hall, the ring wasn't in her pocket. Carolina asked why she was so distressed, and Leonhardt said she was fine. She'd just forgotten something.

Keepsakes be damned, Instructor Brecken said, she had kitchen duty this afternoon. If it was that important, she could check the grounds after she was done. First thing tomorrow, the 104th Training Corps had mandatory service with the Garrison. No doubt, he was only saying it because of her reputation as a truant.

Leonhardt, Kirschtein and Blaus ended up together. Blaus was better with the knife, so Leonhardt ended up fetching the water with Kirschtein. The worst he could do was call her moodier than usual.

"I was thinking about something I have to do tomorrow," Leonhardt said. "And if I have to talk, I can't focus on carrying the water, nor can you."

Kirschtein scoffed. "How are you not freezing?"

"Maybe I've just got better genes."

He laughed, which wasn't what she intended. "You're all right," he said. "You and Reiner."

Leonhardt held her tongue.

Back inside, she got to setting a fire whilst Kirschtein brought more water.

"You figured where you want to go, once you graduate?" Blaus asked. "'Cause I've been doing a little thinking about it myself. I hear the Scouting Legion has undergone a lot of changes from within. The Garrison's always overcrowded and the MPs, well," she snorted, "a fat lot of good they've done for humanity. They're not the real problem. Life ain't that much better if you live closer to the cities than not. Sure, it's not regulated, but no one's going to offer you a hand when the Walls come down."

Great. Now they were having a conversation. "Where'd you grow up?"

"Pardon?"

"Your accent," Leonhardt said. "You don't sound like anyone else here."

Blaus cleared her throat. "I try to speak properly, you know. The attitude around here is that folk from the country a-aren't of much use, save menial labor." She looked Leonhardt up and down. "I've been meaning to ask, uh. You know Reiner, don't you?" Leonhardt gave a slight nod. "Well, last night at the bonfire we were all swapping stories. He says he's from Ragako. But Springer grew up there. He's lived there his whole life before the Titans broke through Wall Maria. He'd have seen 'im, but he told me Reiner was never there. You and Bertholdt neither." She gave a little shrug. "I reckoned that Reiner was really sloshed and meant a different town, but he and Fritz went off to get more beer and I never got to ask 'im. And he wouldn't recall even if I asked him now, I reckon."

Private Ackermann shouldered the door open and let it fall shut behind her. Blaus looked over.

"Mikasa. Are you on kitchen duty?"

Ackermann didn't answer. She nodded to Leonhardt. "Eren was looking for you."

"Tell him I'm busy," Leonhardt said. "He shouldn't have you delivering messages for him."

If Ackermann felt any particular way about the slight, she didn't show it. "He didn't ask me to." She walked over until she was behind Leonhardt's shoulder. She was about the same height as her brother. She reached into her own breast pocket and took out something small. "He found this on the training grounds," she said. "Is it yours?"

Leonhardt glanced at the ring. "Yes," she said. "I must have dropped it." She took the ring, placed it back in her pocket, no emotion.

Ackermann's expression did not change. "You should be more careful," she said.

Blaus chimed in, "I didn't know you wore rings, Annie."

Goddam it all. "It's just a keepsake, Blaus."

…

Despite Grice's presence in the Garrison, they'd yet to actually meet in-person as Paradisian soldiers. The most overt action he'd taken was to provide a disguise for her infiltration into the interior. After it went south, he stopped sending letters for a month. In Marley, he'd probably be promoted to Vice-Commander when all was said and done. She'd be lucky to be a Captain, if she continued to drop the ball during critical moments. Grice's letter didn't cast any blame, just assured her that they'd talk more about her career once she was in Stohess.

Hoover and Braun didn't seem too upset either. They could just be playing along, dedicating their hearts to humanity with all the rest of these devils. When the only real difference boiled down to a coat of arms and culture, what was the sense in buying into someone else's war?

If Finger and Galliard were alive, they'd be ushered on the front lines. Whether you were in the Warrior Unit or a lowly ground soldier, you were still pawns in Marley's proxy battles. Even if she could write to them, there wasn't any guarantee they'd see the letters. Liberio's postal service was heavily scrutinized by Marleyan secret police. Even if you were clever enough to couch everything in entendre, if it was sent from within the internment zone, you'd be better off throwing it out.

It wasn't like they were close to begin with. What would she even say? We're six years deep into this mission, and we've made no meaningful progress. Tell Gabi she shouldn't wait up for her cousin. And tell Galliard I'm sorry about his brother.

None of this was particularly constructive, but the instructor was droning on about ODM gear maintenance and gears while Leonhardt took notes without thinking too deeply. The best weapon to kill a Titan were their blades, or a lucky cannon shot, which was so inaccurate you might as well hope for Wall Maria to magically seal itself, too.

Pure Titans usually wouldn't stay still and let you at their napes. So the exercises with the dummies were more of a means to build muscle memory on the theoretical battlefield. Aberrant Titans were notorious for baiting out a soldier from his horse, or catching him on the wires of his ODM gear, and that would be the end of it. It was customary to take out the heels—as Titans were still formed in the image of Man, according to their textbooks—and dispatch them face-down if it were not possible to slice the nape directly. Many of these Titans might have been sent to Heaven. If one of these subjects were to return to their original form, how much would they remember?

Old friends abandoned or sacrificed in the name of a war inherited. Nothing on the island was hers to keep. Not even her old life.

After the lecture was over, Fritz got up and started talking to Lenz as usual. Lenz went on by herself. Fritz hung back, started walking down the row towards Leonhardt's desk.

"Hey," she said. Fritz had spoken maybe a couple sentences to her in three years of service. She was usually busy sucking up to Lenz, who was either too polite to refuse or had some undisclosed motive. She was the only one Leonhardt hadn't figured out. "Heard that it was your birthday a few days ago." Fritz cracked a sly smile. "Thought I'd congratulate you on staying alive one more year."

"Thanks."

"I would've wished you a happy birthday then, but you were slacking off, as usual. I guess I just forgot." Leonhardt's stomach tensed. She stood up to leave with the other cadets, and Fritz followed her. "With your score, I guess you can afford to be a little lax." This wasn't just about swapping chore duty. "Those MP Brigade men aren't like the lazy idiots you hear about in Wall Sina, are they?"

"What do you want?" Leonhardt said coolly.

"To put in the bare minimum when it comes to civil service. Same as you." Fritz glanced meaningfully at Leonhardt. "I'd rather the two of us stayed friendly."

"Did Instructor Brecken put you on latrine duty again?"

Fritz blinked twice. A short burst of laughter. "Nah, not this time." She was looking at Leonhardt in a way she never had before. "Who's Marcel Galliard?"

An instant, where there was no other recourse but to kill Fritz. Facilitating a training accident by herself would be next to impossible with all these other cadets around. Fritz could just as well be lying about Hoover's involvement, or Braun's. She was imposing her way into Leonhardt's mission, like Carolina and Jaeger.

Fritz shrugged. "Reiner mentioned that you grew up in the same hometown. He was pretty sozzed when he said it though."

The Warriors were loyal to Marley and only Marley. It stood to reason that Paradis and the interior would have their own methods of dealing with abberations in this "last of mankind" farce. Was it possible that Paradis had its own branch of Titan Shifters?

"You've never asked me about my home before," Leonhardt said.

Fritz's expression was difficult to read. "We're going to be stuck together for another year. Why not get to know each other a little?"

"I'm not interested in making friends."

Fritz straightened up. "Ditto."

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

…

Before ODM inspection, Leonhardt passed by Braun's seat and said, "Hey. Did you see Fritz at the bonfire, last night?"

Braun went still. "Only for a bit. I got pretty drunk. So I don't remember much of what we talked about. It probably wasn't that important." His smiles didn't tend to reach his eyes.

If he had said anything, he'd sooner die than admit to it. "Annie," Hoover said, catching her eye, "I was just thinking we should review our notes. After practise?"

"Sure," she muttered.

"Yeah," Braun said with a snort, "that's likely."

Hoover stiffened. As Leonhardt kept walking she heard him say, "Shut up, Reiner."

…

Privates Jaeger, Arlert, Lenz and Blaus, wished her a happy birthday. Evidently, Carolina wasn't the type to keep a secret well. But they were bunkmates, and it was easier to let Carolina remain friendly than not. In return for her tolerance, Carolina did not ask anything in return than Leonhardt's occasional time and attention. She'd probably have a standard, unobtrusive existence pushing papers in the Garrison or the Scouting Legion.

The ring, she'd keep in the breast pocket of her uniform jacket. No use flashing it around unless she had any real need. Each Warrior had a preferred method of activation. Braun used a knife. Hoover, too.

…

"It's your birthday?" asked Carolina out of nowhere during lunch.

Leonhardt glanced over. "Who told you?"

"Bertholdt."

That figured. Hoover and Braun had different ideas of what constituted as "justifiable" information to volunteer to the enemy. The last time anyone had asked Leonhardt, it was to confirm her birth records and blood type.

"Hannah was thinking about going into town, the next time we have a day off. We could pool our allowances. Is there anything you wanted?"

Leonhardt had been wearing the same jacket since she was fourteen. She took pretty good care of it, so it wasn't threadbare, but it was getting a little dingy. Easier to manage than their uniforms. Whoever decided white chinos were suitable should've been put on latrine duty. Or thrown over the Wall and fed to his Eldian brethren.

The next time they had voluntary service in Trost, she couldn't talk her way out of accepting a new hoodie. She made a mental note to ask Carolina when her birthday was.

…

Last night, they'd had the first bonfire in a while. The weather was damp, but permitting.

Hoover and Jaeger sat by the waning embers. Braun, Fritz and a handful of cadets took turns swapping beers, trusting the inebriation to keep them warm until they wandered back to the barracks. The more sensible ones had already retired an hour ago.

"Can't sleep?"

Jaeger didn't answer. "Do you dream about it?"

The back of Hoover's neck prickled. "About what?"

"Life before." Jaeger wouldn't look at him. His jaw set. "I used to. It was worse when we were living in poorhouses. I'd wake up and forget where I was. Scared the hell out of Armin." He stole a glance at his nails. "Everything after that day feels like a nightmare."

Hoover said nothing.

Jaeger rolled his shoulders. "My dad and mom, they weren't close. He was always working, he wouldn't come home for months sometimes. And she never talked about it in front of me but she'd talk to Mikasa, when she thought I was asleep. We both remember that." He stole a glance at a discarded flask. "I keep having this dream. Not about Shiganshina. I'm in a room I don't recognize. My father is there, too. I ask him where Armin and Mikasa are. He's ignoring my questions. I try and tell him that mom's dead, and he goes berserk. He tells me that—" a short, sharp intake of breath "—it's my fault. Everything that happened, it's my fault. And if I try to desert the mission, the MPs won't have a body to identify. But that's bullshit, because if he knew something why'd he leave us to—" His eyes glistened in the light. He took a swig of ale, wincing. "It's fucking crazy." He took another swig and coughed, wiping his mouth. "Dad never spoke to me or my mom like that. It has to be a dream. But it doesn't feel like one."

"Do you blame yourself for what happened?" Jaeger's hackles raised. He didn't answer. "What happened in Shiganshina wasn't your fault," Hoover said quietly. "There was nothing you, or I, or anyone could have done differently."

Jaeger's face was blotchy in the flickering light. He scowled. "They should've been destroyed a long time ago," he spat, his voice thicker. "Fucking pestilence on our country is what they are." He blinked rapidly and turned, as if Hoover would pretend not to see. "I mean, an animal, even one that's dangerous to a human, has something to offer from being killed. Titans don't have any use."

Hoover nodded. "You've made up your mind about joining the Scouts."

"Why wouldn't I?" Eren poked at the fire, drawing sparks. "The bitch ate my mother."

Hoover paused. "The bitch?"

"The fucking Titan." He seemed to sway in-place, his expression hitching. "They're parasites."

…

The snow was spread thin across the grounds, retreating with the promise of warmer weather. The sun hadn't set, but it was getting closer to lights-out. Hoover stood alone on the porch overlooking the boy's barracks.

The seasons in Paradis were easier to bear now they weren't living on the streets. When Leonhardt was twelve, she woke up feverish in the almshouse. She was weak enough that she couldn't get out of bed, so Reiner had to go into town and see a doctor. They sat there for hours, while Hoover picked and did his best not to fret, and by the end of the day Reiner was back with Annie in tow. He'd said the doctor chalked it up to heatstroke, rather than consumption.

Pieck's parents would have called it anhidrosis. For a Subject of Ymir, it was natural.

Hoover perspired less after the injection. He was better at hiding a flush than either of them. He didn't sweat so much as glisten. The spells used to be a lot worse, especially right after their deployment. Reiner was flushed like a lobster. Their bodies simply needed time to adjust to the effects of the serum. It would be uncomfortable for a while, but eventually they'd get used to it. As if it was that simple.

He leant into the banister just to feel the grain against his wrists. He'd taken a book with him, on the pretence of reading, but he couldn't settle down. He could see his breath, but wasn't even shivering.

Last mock-expedition, when Blaus commented that Reiner was physically steaming in the cold, he chuckled and said, "Guess I've got good genes."

He was charismatic enough to brush off discrepancies like that. No surprise that he'd fit in and let Hoover fall into step beside him. The two of them had garnered plenty of admiration from a bunch of impressionable, shellshocked Paradisians desperate for a hero. Easy to drag others into a lie when you were so good at fooling yourself. Deep down, Reiner would always be the terrified boy, begging for mercy under the beech tree.

Bertholdt wasn't as confident, but he'd always been an excellent marksman. His quiet nature was mistaken by others for passivity. Reiner's other half, the boys would call him, and Bertholdt would offer a tight-lipped smile and let Reiner clap him on the back like they were kids again.

When they asked, why do you want to become a solider, his mind would conjure the kindly man who'd taken them in after Shiganshina fell. His death, whatever led him to it, was a more useful gift to the Warriors than the scant amount of money left in his pockets, or the clothes they took. With a few changed words, Bertholdt had a ready alibi. The Titans had ravaged a small village south of Wall Rose. He and Reiner and Annie were the only survivors, and they'd been struggling to get by ever since.

No one ever thought twice. This penal colony was their birthplace, and the King's iron grip on education and history limited their imaginations to the span of each gleaming Wall, hitherto impenetrable. So they let their military fall by the wayside whilst the government grew more corrupt and the divide between economical classes widened. It was a miracle anyone from Shiganshina was permitted past Wall Rose—but of course, the interior still needed able-hands to do the farming and fishing, ready to give up their lives for Paradis. All Bertholdt cared about was finding the Progenitor and going home, and looking after his comrades in Marcel's stead.

"Where've you been?"

Leonhardt said nothing, just wandered to the other side of the banister. "Did Doctor Jaeger ever mention having a son?"

Hoover paused. "Not that I recall."

"Fritz said she talked to Reiner. About Marcel." Hoover wouldn't look at her. "Did she, or not?"

"I don't remember," Hoover admitted, heat creeping through his skin. "He and Ymir and a couple of the cadets were off by themselves. I was talking to Eren."

"About what?" She sneered. "What, it's OK for you and Reiner to lie right to his face?"

"That's not the point. What you're suggesting would be impossible. Dr. Jaeger would have to live many miles away from our hometown in order to cross the ocean. He couldn't return to Shiganshina without raising questions."

"What if he wasn't even Paradisian to begin with?"

Hoover shook his head. "You're scared. You're looking for the simplest explanation. We have to stick with what we know to be true, and Eren doesn't factor into the plan after we graduate."

She glared at a point above his right shoulder. At times like these, she still looked like a kid, hungry to prove herself. Bertholdt was better at disguising his feelings as indifference. Annie always had to insist hers into being, and Reiner had to make himself useful off the goodwill of others. Marcel, if he'd lived, would no doubt suffer from his own hamartia—a word that Armin had taught him from one of his battered notebooks. From the old world, though Arlert had only the breadth of his own imagination.

"I really hope you're right," she whispered. "Because I don't know what we're going to tell Reiner otherwise."

Bertholdt shrugged. "Whatever we have to."

She pulled her hood back up. "How much does he remember?"

Hoover stiffened. "Just his hometown."

Leonhardt turned, her heel leaving a slight divot in the earth. "Do you miss it?"

Most days, it would be easier to wake up in Paradis as a sentient udometer. Hoover looked at his hands. He'd forgotten what it was like, to have callouses and bruises that yellowed on his skin. "Of course."

He was used to being alone, but he had parents awaiting his return, whose love for him wasn't conditional or frayed, or so they always told him. Harbouring empathy for these cadets would only make it difficult to do what was necessary when the time came. Just look at Reiner, split between his feelings and his duty to Marley. And unlike Pieck and Porco, Bertholdt couldn't afford to get his feelings mixed up with duty, even for duty's sake. It was just as likely one of them would be coming home in a box, or not at all.

Thirteen years of uninterrupted service was difficult to fathom at twelve years old.

She said, "I'm going to clear my head. We'll talk about it later."

…

On the way to the training field, she caught sight of Jaeger by himself. He was approximating a kick. He wasn't close to perfect, but he seemed to understand the point of grounding himself. Too perceptive for his own good, in spite of all of his idealistic, pigheaded talk. He wasn't putting on airs, like Braun and Kirschtein.

He turned, back to attention, and waved.

That wasn't an invitation, Jaeger.

"You're still out?" he called. He didn't flinch, like she was expecting. He started jogging towards her.

"I just wanted to go for a walk by myself," she said, once he was in earshot. "Evidently that's not going to happen now."

"It's still dark this time of year," Jaeger said. "I'll walk back with you."

Leonhardt let him trod along in polite silence.

"Thanks," she said. "For finding the ring."

"It's no problem."

She'd done him a favour, keeping him at arm's length. It was the only way she could protect him without lying through her teeth. He'd wind up in the Scouting Legion, and she'd stay on course, wasting away behind a desk in Stohess, and never have to worry about his bright eyes again.

"Are you cold?" he asked, suddenly wary.

She was trembling a little. Hands drawn to fists at her sides. She didn't turn away or knock him to the half-thawed earth. She glanced down at where his heart should be. He wasn't particularly aware, regardless of whether he was underfoot.

She said, "Want to spar?"

…

By the last couple of spars, Jaeger started opening up. He wasn't above deceit—he'd kick up dirt or try to fake her out, but never cheap tricks. His chivalry was holding him back. "In a fight," he panted, "your opponent isn't going to be sporting. It's your life against his."

Leonhardt nodded. "You're smarter than I took you for."

He scoffed. "C'mon, it's just common sense."

He wasn't laughing when she flipped him over. "Now I don't have to go easy on you."

Jaeger groaned. "Are you serious?"

"You were serious," she said, "a second ago." This close, her bangs fell across his face. His eyes were green. His pulse fluttered under the skin of his throat. "I told you not to let your guard down."

Jaeger, breathing hard, struggled against the cold dirt. Bravado shifting into awareness of their proximity. He managed to get his legs up. The ground knocked out from under her. Ankles pinned. The exaltation of his success was all over his face—his eyes shining in the lamp-light, his grip clammy. Close enough to bump noses.

"I did it!" he exclaimed, the same tone as when she flipped him on his ass the first time. Up close, he was awfully loud.

She drawled, "Don't let it go to your head." As they got back to their feet, she was staring at his face, under his eyelids. The skin there smooth and flawless. Each day brought them closer to the inevitable. She couldn't look him in the eyes and play along forever. Not in any good conscience.

She moved closer, reached up to frame his jaw in her fingers without thinking about the consequences until he croaked, "Is this part of the lesson?"

Leonhardt pressed the pads of her fingers in, slightly. Hand on the back of his neck. His skin was feverish. She tipped her head up, so her lips barely touched his jugular. She could bite down, now, and draw the steam into her lungs like air. The same phantom taste of iron. Spinal fluid. A moment of ambiguity, full of potential, and she could serve the remainder of her term twice over and still flounder for an explanation when it came to him.

"Uh," he said.

"Stop talking," she said, her voice small and halting in a way she could not disguise. He lowered his head. Their mouths met, teeth clicking together. His hands groped for purchase, settling on the back of her head and her waist.

On the way back to the barracks, her skin still tingled.

…

Braun and Hoover were mistaken. So was Carolina, and her light teasing about how often Jaeger asked to partner up. It had nothing to do with Jaeger as a person but his existence, itself an enigma. The only one who hadn't caught on was Jaeger himself.

Each time he sat beside her, or agreed to train with her, asking innocuous, unimportant questions about her false life on Paradis and sharing bits of his childhood in return, she became less of a Warrior and closer to this façade. An ordinary girl he would not outlive by twenty three. After graduation, perhaps he'd come to visit her during leave, and let him say a lot of sappy, stupid things that usually made her itch to hit something solid.

The summer before graduation, she cornered him after ODM practice. She fed him some half-hearted lie about Bodt catching her slacking off, which he never stopped to question. He saw her cool veneer and the truth beneath it, close enough to grasp at her ennui but not its cause. Like a kick he couldn't master, only block, he'd push for her to stop bullshitting and say whatever she meant.

It had been about sparring, at first, but he wasn't clever enough to pick up on her ulterior motives. He didn't seem to dwell upon Ackermann, no matter how desperately she clung to him or that scarf.

She'd never snuck anyone into the barracks, and she didn't plan on starting now. It seemed like an obvious way to get caught. Nothing could deter him from signing his life away to an underfunded military regime. But he ought to learn how to treat a girl.

…

In a couple weeks, she woke up in the girl's barracks without an appetite. Carolina insisted she mull over the porridge anyway, and Leonhardt went along with it. It didn't get any better. She couldn't manage a full lap around the field without falling over.

She vomited before she could help it, and Carolina volunteered to take her to the infirmary. Everyone was speculating about her and Jaeger and all those late training sessions. None of it had ever amounted to much.

At twelve years old, the medical staff in Marley didn't really talk specifics beyond venereal disease. Warriors were not encouraged to make families of their own—defying the odds, it would be an Eldian bastard. A Warrior's internal temperature was elevated a few degrees, thanks to the serum, and it would be impossible for anything to survive.

Back then, it ultimately meant nothing. Civilian life was never in her future. As if Marley needed anymore half-Titans running around, the doctor might say to his assistant, just loud enough to be overheard.

At sixteen, she had to go to the infirmary like any ordinary girl. The doctor didn't seem to think anything of it and chalked it up to food poisoning, because she hadn't eaten. He was only saving face, not for her sake but for the military's reputation.

In Paradis, pregnancies were a faster path back to the fields, in wedlock or disgrace, usually in the same tone as bastard or whoreson. Incidents were more common before the decree to lower the age for the draft.

An honorable soldier, he said, would dedicate oneself for the good of humanity. It was the right thing to do. Leonhardt was looking out the window, the bright lights beyond, anywhere but his face. The same old diatribe about dedication to the fatherland with a few changed words.

Carolina would be inconsolable, in her place. Not everyone could be a Warrior.

After the scare, even when Leonhardt was cleared for training, Carolina would sulk at the table during mealtime, while Diamant and a couple of the obsequious cadets expressed sympathies and surprise about Leonhardt's speedy recovery. Leonhardt never made it a point to converse with anyone, and she wasn't going to start now. These bad moods always cleared up.

Carolina wasn't talking to her before lights-out either. She barely would look at Leonhardt as she took her spot in the top bunk. Leonhardt stared at the wooden slat separating them. She wasn't going to beg Carolina to reveal her feelings. Ingratiating oneself with other people just implied weakness. Even the nicer ones couldn't really help but push their luck.

That night, they had a short, awkward heart-to-heart where Carolina got a little emotional as she expressed her concern for her comrade's well-being, and Leonhardt did her best to afford her some dignity.

…

The next time they'd speak to each other, it was in Trost.

A mess of viscera already going cold and sickly-sweet smell of rot. Clump of black hair saturated with blood and brain matter. The ODM gear, torn from the wires when the Titan ripped its prey from the wall, was found battered but intact not too far from the body. If she didn't check the canister, she wouldn't ever have to know for sure who it had belonged to. For her own sake, she did not look.

When the woman from the Garrison asked for a name, Leonhardt's eyes caught on the discarded gear. The woman went over to it. Five syllables, and Leonhardt didn't weep. That luxury had been stamped out of her long ago.

As long as the spine and brain remained intact, a Warrior could survive just like any Pure Titan. She'd never given a thought to trade her powers for mortality, with the bruises and weariness, just for a concrete end to her guilt and false promises of going home. Marley did not reward failure or half-measures.

After graduation, life didn't come to a screeching halt. The Garrison could always use some extra hands, despite the lack of a foreseeable threat. Better, to not be caught unawares. So the graduates were carted off to Trost to attend to Wall Rose.

The rest of the 104th didn't notice a missing cadet. When the flash of lightning struck, a shockwave so intense, the survivors said, it rattled the cannons and shook the Wall itself. Jaeger and the survivors formed an impromtu squad to combat the Colossus Titan, but the damage was already done.

The captains were lining up the survivors into groups, establishing a chain of command that quickly broke down under the stress of the Titans' onslaught. Hoover melted easily into the panicked throng of civilians and reappeared just in time for deployment.

Next visitation day, Diamant caught on. "Ever had one, Annie?" Leonhardt caught herself staring. She shoved her hands in her pockets. "No." "My grandmother used to make them," Diamant said. "But the ones here are about as good as hers."

Hours before, she'd found Arlert curled up in the shadow of a second-storey's eaves, unharmed, out of gas. It would be Ackermann who went over to him, who touched his arm. It was Leonhardt who posed the question that had been eating away at her since that morning.

Eyes on his knuckles, curling into the fabric of his ragged chinos, he would not look at any of them. His shoulders shook. In a stumbling voice that no one could understand very well, he began to rattle off names. Zeramuski, Wagner, Carolina. They'd called out to each other, if they weren't immediately killed. Carolina managed to seclude herself between one of the narrower alleys. Eventually she'd stopped screaming.

Jaeger, he said, had given his life to save him.

Such should have been the tragic, but conclusive end to the 104th Trainee Corps' suicidal bastard.

…

"He's one of us," Leonhardt said afterwards. "He has to be."

The three of them were hunkered down in the shell of a building that used to be a tenement. Hoover was crouched down next to her, which he hadn't done since they were kids. Braun kept pacing.

"I knew something was wrong with him," she said, her voice small. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself. "I should have said something."

"The interior mission was a wash. We can't afford to be sidetracked." Hoover forced a little smile. "We have to stick to the plan. You've got the grades to make it into Stohess. That's more important."

Leonhardt's shoulders stiffened. "We've been looking at this from the wrong perspective," she snapped. "The King doesn't have any real influence. The MP Brigade and their sponsors in Mitras are the ones who'll have answers about Dr. Jaeger."

"What's Eren's father have to do with this?"

Hoover's terrified expression mirrored how she felt. "Eren's father has been missing for a while. We thought, if anyone might know why Eren did what he did-"

Braun looked from one to the other. "D'you hear yourself? It would be a blow against humanity, to admit to knowing what we do now. Nothing we say or do would excuse Eren's actions in the eyes of the military, much less these people we swore to protect. They all want him killed." He shook his head. "I just can't believe it. He seemed like a normal kid to me." He really didn't remember anything, did he? She didn't look at Hoover for confirmation. Braun exhaled. "Look, I understand what you're going through is difficult. It's difficult for me, as well. You've got to get your act togeth―"

Leonhardt wheeled around, grabbed him by the front of the shirt and slammed him with all her might into the nearest wall. Hoover's cry of alarm did nothing to dissuade her.

"We can't keep avoiding this forever," she spat, meeting Braun's eyes from below. "Right now we're going to allow humanity to deal with the fallout. But it's going to catch up to you soon, and it's not going to just be you that's made a pariah." Braun grunted, seemingly unaffected by the blow. "Don't lose sight of the mission," she said. "For humanity's sake as much as ours."

She let him drop. Turned away, refusing to look at Hoover. The only difference between them was how thoroughly the lie had seeped into his consciousness.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Well then ... What would say since mc from obey me is a sheep alot of the guys from obey me assume that their make due to the horns ( female sheep's in some species's have horns 2, and they looked like pokemon in my opinion ), and say someone figure out to make them back to human and cloud of smokes and pop out that mc is a female ( a curvy female~ )

What if your opinion of yandere Mammon, yandere Diavolo, and Yandere Simeon would react on the situation

I think it’d be easiest if everyone saw you all at once. Like say you and the boys were once again on a retreat at Diavolo’s castle and you just so happened to get splashed by the remedy, showing your true form. Like Barbatos is trying to casually hand it to you, to try it on later, and in some crazy fashion Mammon ends up spilling it on you. Now with a poof and some smoke you are standing there with two curly horns in your hair and (h/c) fuzzy accents covering your bits in your typical human form. Everybody stops to stare and once again Mammon is the first to break the silence. 

“Where’s (Y/n)?” 

He says this in absolute disbelief as he has to tear his gaze away from your body. Finding you not trotting on the ground he just can’t seem to connect the dots. Diavolo chuckles and he’s the first to take advantage as he strolls up to give you a hug. 

“Nice to meet you in your true form (Y/n)! You look absolutely stunning!” 

Diavolo 

Of course Diavolo been knew this is how you looked 

He approved you among so many humans

He knew you were never a guy but it was entertaining to see everyone become so enamored with you without your appearance getting in the way

If this is a temporary spell he’s going to make it permanent if not to only make interactions with the brothers more interesting but to see actual expressions on your face

Of course in your sheep form you found your own way to be expressive but he just can’t get enough of your real cute face

Whether you’re embarrassingly asking for real clothes 

Or thanking him Barbatos for returning you back to your original form

“My pleasure (Y/n)!”

After a while though I think he’d be less excited to realize now everyone has more of a reason to fall for you

Before you were just cute to everyone, he knew that but at least he knew of your actual face that made you all the more desirable to him 

But now everyone knows and if they wanted a piece of you before they definitely want it now

‘No matter, this only makes this game more interesting’

Now he’ll have to find ways to compete for your attention and really capitalize off your human body

“As a matter of fact (Y/n) do you mind still posing for this picture? You may not be a sheep anymore but you’re still the cutest mascot!!”

Mammon

“You’re a sexy woman!!!???” 

Dude’s going to be doing backflips

He liked you before but he loves this

Now when he squeezes you close to him feeling the plush of your assets he’s reminded of how much of a lover you can be to him

Like most of the boys you were kind of like a cute little pet that they can fight over and garner attention from

But now that along with your heartmelting words your adorable face and actions just reinstate how much they love you

Mammon is no different

While he’ll find it so much harder to defy you like the tsundere he is, he fights just as hard to keep you by his side

His brothers all think he’s dumb and stupid but mind you he hopped on the (Y/n)-train before anyone else

Ignoring the actual circumstances of his affection

He’s going to touch you a lot more not only stake his claim but to also familiarize himself with you 

And just the process of realizing your a girl

Now it seems to make sense why everyone wants a piece of you

It's because they’re all thirsty for your sexy body 

Of course ignoring the fact everyone was still fighting over you despite your appearance being that of a sheep

“(Y/n), do you really want to go with them, who only want you for your sexy human body or with me who has always loved who you were!?”

Simeon

He’s pleasently surprised 

Of course as an angel he’s trained to see human’s intentions by the state of their soul but never the otherway around

And because of this he’s quite shocked to see such an innocent horned sheep turn into a beautiful human female

For a second he’s thrown off by this change

But only for a second

Now that you have a human body there's no stopping others from drooling all over you for reasons other than eating you

Which means that having someone who’s going to treat you the same even without your old looks will be exactly what you're looking for

For a servant of divinity Simeon is quite sneaky

Waiting to swoop in just in time to save you from some stray demon or intervening when the brothers become a little to handsy 

“(Y/n) why don’t you spend a night with me at Purgatory hall?”

But until he finds the perfect time to play hero he’s going to admire you from aside 

Possibly discussing with arch-angel Michael about ‘guaranteed ways to bring a human soul to heaven’

“You’re just as pretty with the hooves than without.So please (Y/n) trust me when I say that I will never do what they did to you.”

[danielxricciardo]

Where do we go from here

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Chapters: 1/?

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,015

Playlist for the series

It was your fault when you agreed to go to Monaco. After what happened the last time, you swore you would never go back there. Because it fucked with your mind and soul. You were crushed and your best friend had to scrap you off the floor for weeks, he had to remind you to shower and to eat. Knowing he will be so pissed you chose to go back to him, you didn't tell him you were leaving for a week until you were on the plane. His reaction was everything you were expecting, he called you a bitch and he advised you not to get back to him with a broken heart to cry on his shoulder then he hung up on you. Sure, you both knew you will cry on his shoulder after this week.

The entire flight you were questioning your life choices. How did you get there? You wanted - you needed to know how you allowed yourself to become dependent on a piece of affection from Daniel. You were trying to figure out when you became a sucker for him but you couldn't, maybe because you always were.

You'd always been good friends, ever since he moved from Australia to Europe. You were his first non-Australian friend and he was always been grateful for you and your friendship. You were with him even when he didn't ask you to and even when he told you he wanted to be left alone. That was your first choice. You went with him to almost all the junior competitions, until he reached Formula 1, you cried with him when he had a bad race and you partied with him on a podium or a win. Fuck it, 9 years later, you were still with him. Red Bull Racing was the team that helped him discover himself as a driver and gave him confidence that he could get far. After only one year in the team, he finished third in the drivers' championship with 238 points and secured the first fastest lap of his Formula One career at the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix.

But all this has consequences. The fact that he was so good and became so well known attracted many girls who wanted to meet him and be affiliated with him for increased media attention. The worst part was that he liked all the female attention. Who wouldn't like it? He could have a new girl every day and they would still not end. But Daniel was not the type to take such advantage of his name and his position in society, you thought at the time. But that was exactly what he did. At the end of the 2014 season, days would pass without hearing from him because he was too busy to enjoy the female attendance that crossed his threshold.

After a few months, you already had a pattern. For 5 days you would not hear from him and on Saturday morning he would call you with a guttural voice, asking you to come to his place. And you went there with some headache pills and for a few hours, you would listen to everything that had happened during the week with different girls. At first, it hurt a lot. To hear how your best friend and the person for whom you develop some romantic feelings, has fun, and fucks with different girls is not very ok, but over time the whole situation had become repetitive and you became immune.

But you didn't realize you became a regular girl in his bed too. The only difference between you and the tens, maybe the hundreds of girls before you, was that you warmed his bed on Saturday and Sunday. It was just you, all weekend, every weekend. You felt special. He gives you his full attention all weekend and you hope he doesn't need anyone but you, except that Monday was coming and you could see that to his right was another model looking for fame. But have you ever told him what bothers you? No. Because you'd rather share him with so many girls than not have him in your life at all.

So what happened when you ended up crying for weeks without eating or taking a shower? Daniel told you that he is done with all the girls and he wants to focus on his career. This is after in 2015 he finished the season in 9th place with only 92 points, without a victory, and only twice on the podium. Of course you were happy! Daniel was going to have only you in his life. But he told you that what was between you before, sex and everything else, must end as well. I mean, you had to go back to being just friends. But how do you go back to being just friends with the person you've shared the bed with so many times? Friends don't know the way you taste. Your luck was that you had to go for a visit to your parents for 2 weeks and you didn't have to see him. You had 2 weeks to lick your wounds and return to him without a broken heart. Troy, your best friend, was with you and he tried to put your heart back together. Just when he succeeded, you had to go back to Daniel as if nothing had happened. Broken heart? Who?

Making your own decisions makes you responsible for what comes out of that decision whether it was a positive move or not. Making your own decisions also allows you to make your own mistakes and learn from them. It was your decision to go back to Daniel, to your friend. It was hard to look at him and not want to kiss those fleshy lips but you could manage it.

"There she is!" you heard Daniel say as soon as the Nice Côte d'Azur airport gates opened. He was wearing his merch purple hoodie that you wore so many times before and a pair of black jeans. He had a pair of sunglasses on to keep him away from the press. You smiled. It's been 2 weeks since you've seen him and it's as if your heart has tightened in your chest. You really missed him. You ignored his calls because you didn't want to hear his voice and start crying on the phone and all the messages he sent you were deleted by Troy. You don't even know what he wrote to you.

"Hey, Daniel!" you said and hugged him. You were enveloped by the smell of his perfume and you smiled. He was your safe place. "Missed you."

He hugged you back and the force he put in that hug was enough to crush your bones. But it didn't hurt you. You wanted to be one with him, to be absorbed by him. Everything platonic, of course.

"Missed you too, Y/N."

The road to your house was not a long one but at that moment everyone seemed to be on the road at the same time as you so what needed to be a 45-minutes road trip was now more than an hour, and you were still in the car. The small talk already finished about your parents, your brother and your best friend, Troy, and about all the new things from your home town and at the moment in the car was an uncomfortable silence which none of you knew how to break.

"I tried to talk to you these 2 weeks, you know?" Daniel said and you swallowed loudly. You knew that at some point he would ask about why you didn't talk to him for two weeks, but you hoped it would take some time until then - you hoped you had more time to think about a pretty good reason.

"Yeah, sorry, I just wanted to focus on my people there, you know?" you bit the inside of your cheek until you felt the metallic taste of blood. You hoped it would be a pretty convincing reason but you knew after so many years of friendship that Daniel is not the type to press you if you don't want to say something.

"Yeah, I get it, I'm the same when I'm down under, y'know?" you both laughed, and for the first time in a long time you felt good around him. You felt yourself, no labels and no shoes to fill.

In front of your apartment block, after Daniel took all your luggage out of the car trunk, he leaned against the car, his hands folded, and looked at you.

"Aren't you going to help me get them up to my apartment?"

"Yes, in a minute," he says, still looking at you. "Would you like to do something tonight?"

You shrugged. You weren't tired after the flight, so you could have done something but you had so many questions. Just the two of you? Was anyone else coming? Any friends of his? Some girl? But you couldn't ask him, even if you were friends, you didn't want to give him the feeling that you were jealous. Were you jealous? You didn't have a reason just yet but you could become one.

"Sure. Do you have something in mind?"

"Remember Jay? He just opened a nightclub. Actually, tonight is the opening, he asked me to swing by for a few hours, want to go?"

"Yeah, sure, sounds like fun."

Daniel took two suitcases and passed you to enter the block, but he walked with the wheels over your toes.

"Hey, idiot, watch where you're going!" you yelled at him and immediately laughed. Daniel turned to you, laughing too. You didn't realize when you said it, but that was the exact phrase you told him when you first met.

You got out of the cab in front of the restaurant and slammed the door shut, despite the pleading of the driver to be gentle with his darling car.

You arranged your dress on your body and put your hair behind your ear. You were ready for this blind date that Ellie, your co-worker, planned for you. Of course, there were better things for you to do on a Friday night, such as drinking a bottle of red wine watching a few episodes of your favorite show. But you were there, prepared for a shitshow. You took a few steps towards the big glass door until someone hit you hard and made you unbalance and break a heel.

"Hey, idiot, watch where you're going!" you yelled at the boy that hit you. A tall, dark guy that made you lose the little balance you still had. A small amount of his curly dark-haired was peaking out under the white hoodie he was wearing and his brown big eyes were looking at you like you were a statuette that broke.

"So sorry," he said and the thick accent made your legs soft. Whatever accent that was, you knew you wanted to hear him talk non-stop. "Was looking for an address, I'm fucking lost."

"That's fine, maybe I can help you," you smiled at the boy and you took off your heels. One was already broken so there was no point in wearing them at this point.

"Oh, no, it's fine, you look so elegant, you must be dining with your boyfriend or something," he laughed and then saw the broken heel. "Bloody, I just broke your shoes, I'm so sorry!"

You laughed even harder at the panicked boy in front of you.

"No boyfriend, just a blind date I didn't even want to go in the first place so you saved me, I'm the one that should say thank you. Where do you need to go to?"

He came closer to you with a map in his hand. He showed you where he had to go and you explained to him that he was in the wrong part of the city but you were more than happy to show him the right way. But after you stopped at a boutique to buy a 5 euro pair of sandals.

"This city is not so big that you get lost in it," you told the boy, whose name is Daniel Ricciardo, he told you so. "How long have you been here?"

"Ugh, just a day, and I thought it was a good idea to go out and see the city, I even took this stupid map, but I still got lost."

"Okay, but why did you go out by yourself in the evening and not in the morning or, at least, when is sunny, y'know?" you ask him and point to his left, where you had to go.

"I woke up two hours ago. I slept for eleven hours with the whole time zone, jet lag, and shit and when I woke up I was hungry. I went to get some food and to visit the surroundings because why not," he shrugged.

"But where did you come from?"

"Perth, Australia, baby!" he smiled and leaned back, pulling his chest forward. Anyone could see how proud he was of his hometown.

"This is you!" you announced when you arrived in front of the apartment building, his final destination. He smiled so wide and hugged you.

"Thank you so much, you saved me!"

"No biggie," you smiled at him and then waved. "Bye, Daniel Ricciardo."

"Hey, hey, let's meet tomorrow for a brekky!" he casually announced.

"For a what?"

"Oh, sorry!" he laughed. "Forgot for a second you're not Australian. For breakfast."

"Sure, I'll come here at 9 so you won't get lost again. Bye, Daniel Ricciardo!"

"Bye, Y/N Y/L/N!"

"I'll come and pick you up at about 10 o'clock, ok?" Daniel announced just as he was about to leave your apartment after he got up all your luggage. "Sounds good?"

"Yep. All good."

"And wear something sexy!" he yelled as he was closing the front door. Something sexy? Why would he request a sexy outfit for a night out from you? His best friend. Sometimes Daniel made your head spin, that was one of those occasions, you didn't pay much attention to it, you just went to grab a shower.

The night had come too fast. Sure, you had enough time to put on makeup and do your hair, but you had no idea what to wear. You were sitting in front of the bed in your underwear, with three dresses lying on the bed when the clock struck 10 o'clock. You heard the front door open and close but you did not hurry to put something on yourself so that Daniel would not see you in your underwear; he saw you even worse than that.

"Hey, are you ready? Whoah!" he says and turns his back on you, with his hand covering his eyes. "You should have told me you were naked!"

You scoffed at him.

"Cut the crap and come help me pick a dress for tonight, Ricciardo."

Daniel removed his hand from the eyes and looked at you and swallowed hard. The underwear you were wearing was almost a silky one, black, that hugged your curves just right. He couldn't take his eyes off you and you loved all the attention.

"Stop drooling and come help me. Do you want to go to this club or not?"

Daniel came near you, his eyes were now on the push-up bra that lifted your breasts, making them fuller and bigger than they really were, and at that moment Daniel wanted nothing more than to touch them and play with them. But he remembered who was in front of him. He told his best friend that the sex games were now over because he was focusing on his Formula 1 career. That was not a lie at the time, but he just wanted to throw her in bed and make her forget the words he said that evening. He coughed a few times to regain his voice and then looked at the three dresses lying on the bed.

"That one," says the brunette and points to the short black dress that fits perfectly on your body. You would have chosen that one too.

"Ok, I'll be ready in a few minutes," you said and went to the bathroom to put the dress on. You adjusted your make-up and grabbed the bag and you were ready for a night out with Daniel. Or so you thought.

No one can see the dance floor, it's wall-to-wall people dancing to the club music. There's no room for any more but somehow Daniel was pulling my hand to where he knew Jay was sitting. The music vibrated in your ears and you were tempted to move to its rhythm, but you had to follow Daniel. After going through the whole room you reached your friend, the owner of the club. He told you that the drink for you was on the house and wished you a good time. Daniel announces that he is going to have a drink for both of you and leaves you alone among hundreds of strangers, driven by the same inner desire to get rid of inhibitions for a few hours that night.

The DJ moves everybody in ways no one has ever done before. Mixing the loud music on the turntables to the beat you desire to hear, the DJ watches the half-naked bodies of young men and women dancing around as if something has possessed their bodies. Men are wearing an undershirt, or no shirt at all, and pants. They eye the women who strut around in tank tops and tight dance pants or skirts, and who are smiling, and letting all their worries go away. A smile appeared on your face and look at the line at the bar for Daniel and you were pleasantly surprised to see that he was already looking at you. When you saw his smile you realized that the night will not end with you two still being just friends.

————————————————————————————

To be notified when a new chapter is posted, just respond to this post and I’ll tag you when the next chapter is up!

[soulmate-game]

part 2 (of that new bio!dad fic)

Dick whipped his head over to Bruce, who could feel the heavy gazes of all his children as if they were physical. If they had had heat vision like Clark, he would have already been reduced to a puddle of mush. Bruce shifted, the only sign of his discomfort, but he recognized that the middle of a gala was no place for this discussion. There were too many busybodies trying to listen in for the latest gossip. So he plastered on a smile that he couldn’t quite feel, and held a hand out to Marinette. He was careful to keep a good distance though, and left the choice for contant purely up to her.

The young woman looked down at his hand, then back to his face. Damian had been shocked silent by what she had to say, and perhaps even more by the all too telling way that Bruce hadn’t so much as implied that she was lying, and the look he was giving her was making her a little uncomfortable. Yes, she hadn’t planned on interacting with her father more than just the years-overdue confrontation she had just done, at least not while at the gala… but her plans always left room for improvisation. She could make this work.

With a soft sigh, Marinette extended her own hand— half the size of Bruce’s, he noted almost immediately with a rush of illogical fondness— and grasped his lightly. She couldn’t help but notice the way his impossibly blue eyes brightened, no different than her own when she was particularly happy, or the way his mouth twitched with a barely suppressed beam. Instead, he controlled himself enough so that the only smile he gave would look professional and entirely in character to the nosy socialites still spying on them, and led them out onto the dance floor.

What everyone else saw was the unfairly charming Bruce Wayne giving his young guest of honor a simple dance. Just a basic swirl around the floor that every other social elite had learned when they were five. Clearly he was taking it easy on the self-made girl, who probably didn’t have experience with such dances. Humoring the accomplished young woman with his approval for a moment before he would slink back to his family or patrol the crowds and make the necessary greetings and meaningless chatter.

What his family saw was Bruce taking time to slow his steps, not for Marinette to keep up but rather to prolong the event. What they saw was the grace in Marinette’s steps as she never once faltered, and that Bruce was careful to take his cues from her instead of the other way around. He only led the dance in technicality, Marinette had all the real control.

What they saw was a father’s first dance with his daughter.

“Eighteen,” Dick whispered, eyebrows drawn low. “She said she’s almost eighteen.”

“Well, that lines up doesn’t it?” Jason asked gruffly, his own gaze never leaving the dancing duo. “We were planning on doubling up your big thirtieth birthday party as your eighteenth adoption anniversary,” he reminded his brother, who just made a slightly distressed noise in the back of his throat. Whether it was at the reinforcement of his adoption coming only months after Marinette being put up for adoption, or the fact that he was turning thirty, nobody could really tell.

“Hurt,” Cassandra spoke up from behind them, looking incredibly concerned as she watched the dance. “Uncertain.”

Stephany rolled her eyes, fidgeting from her quickly building energy. Anger was making her restless. “Of course she’s hurt. Bruce replaced her, with a boy he knew virtually nothing about, not even that long after she was born. How do you think that made her feel, when she found out?” Stephany let out a little growl, grabbing a flute of champagne from a passing server and downing it in one gulp. She ignored Dick protesting that she wasn’t of age yet, which made her wrinkle her nose. “Only one more year, Dickhead. Get over it, I need the buzz.”

“Well,” Barbara sighed and maneuvered her wheelchair around the group so that everyone could see her. “Nothing we can do right now but be supportive and watch Bruce like a hawk so he doesn’t make this worse,” she stated easily, not looking even the least bit ruffled by the news despite the disturbed glitter in her eyes.

“... Guys,” Tim spoke up, not looking at any of them. “Who wants to volunteer for Damian duty?” At first glance, it might seem like Tim was thinking about his own first disastrous meeting with the younger boy. Once everyone paid attention though, they could see that the truth was that Damian had snuck away and Tim was pointedly looking at a slightly hidden-away staircase to the second floor.

“Shit,” Dick muttered, but before he could say another word Jason shoved him back and started towards the stairs.

“No, not this time Dicky. I’ll talk to the brat.”

Back on the dancefloor, Bruce and Marinette broke away without any fanfare at the end of the song. If Bruce tried to hold her eyes for a moment too long, nobody noticed besides his observant children, and two of Marinette’s protective friends.

Then, just to make sure that nobody caught on with the help of hindsight, Bruce said something vaguely polite and praising, which Marinette accepted with flawless, distant poise. And they went back to their own groups, Bruce quickly noting that two of his sons were missing. He raised an eyebrow, about to ask why when a presence behind him caught his attention. Unlike Marinette and Chloe, this newcomer was not at all trying to hide their approach or be sneaky about it, even though Bruce couldn’t hear any footsteps that were close enough to belong to the mysterious entity. Closing his mouth, Bruce turned around only to be greeted by yet another vaguely familiar face. Bright green eyes bore into his, unreadable.

“Mister Wayne,” the newcomer greeted, voice warm but stiff. If the Waynes hadn’t all had years of recognizing when a person was only pretending to be cordial, they never would have suspected that the boy was anything but pure-heartedly happy to be there. But they did have that experience, and thus they instantly honed in on the very well-hidden fact that he had a bone to pick with them. Or, more probably, with Bruce.

He cut an impressive figure, for all that he was lithe muscle instead of bulk. Hair that was lighter than Chloe’s, less like cloth-of-gold and more like sunlight glinting off of wheatfields. It somehow hung in gravity-defying tufts, yet perfectly arranged to evoke a calming aesthetic. Like the fluff of a long-haired cat, almost, and it looked just as fluffy and hypnotizing. It contrasted with his emerald eyes, impossibly vibrant in their gleam. And the suit he wore was decidedly top-notch, much like the other two they had met from his class. He was daring, in a dark silver suit that slightly shifted in the light, green accents that matched his eyes standing out strikingly against the collars and trim, and coiling in tantalizing swirls at the cuffs. The lining of the suit jacket was done in a dark green that could almost pass for black in the right lighting, adding a layer of both drama and mystery as it peeked out at the back of his collar, the insides of his sleeves if he moved just the right way, at the bottom hem of the jacket when he turned or bent just so. And with his notoriety in the modeling world? He always knew exactly how to move or place himself to get the reactions he wanted. And he was clearly showing off the craftsmanship of his suit just then as he faked adjusting his cufflinks and lifted his head just the right amount to both look challenging and let the dark green on the back of his collar flash in the light in such a way that Bruce and those nearest him wouldn’t be able to miss the brief reveal of color.

“Adrien Agreste,” Bruce greeted back, eyebrows pulling down in slight confusion. Normally the topic of clothing was far from his genuine interest, but in this particular case it was an intriguing, and possibly even concerning, observation. So he said next; “That suit is not of your father’s usual style of design.”

Adrien scoffed, straightening out his suit’s jacket and making the obsidian buttons glint. “Of course not. I’ve started my rebellious phase— or, well, I finally started being blatant enough about it that my father noticed anyway,” the way his lips curled was decidedly not very attractive, but painted a vivid picture of a son who despised the way he was treated. Adrien quickly wiped the distasteful expression away and replaced it with a camera-ready smile. “I’m wearing one of Marinette’s designs, much to his chagrin. She insisted on making this for me as soon as she heard that my father was planning on sending me in a white suit.”

Bruce quickly caught on, and sighed. How long would the gala go on for, again? He didn’t remember what time it was anymore. “Your friend Chloe already got a pretty clear warning in. I suppose you know as well?”

Adrien’s grin darkened with mischief, and he nodded all too happily. “Of course! Marinette told me almost as soon as she found out, a few years ago. You see, we had to put down a very solid rule about secrets between the two of us. She has a bad habit of trying to shoulder the entire world’s problems and not tell anyone about it, if you don’t pay close enough attention,” his voice was deceptively light but his eyes were hard, warning. “And let’s just say, I have a lot of experience with bad father figures. I can recognize them a mile away by now. The signs of neglect, of apathy,” his eyes suddenly lightened when he saw how Bruce’s throat visibly caught, how the man didn’t seem to realize he had stopped breathing. Maybe he was being a little to mean, Adrien thought. So he let the dark slip out of his eyes, and his smile turned more genuine. “You don’t have those signs. You looked at Marinette like you were both the happiest and most miserable man in the world at the same time. But you can’t change what you did to her, Mister Wayne. If you want some advice from Marinette’s oldest friend?” Adrien held out a closed fist.

Bruce took a second to realize what was happening, too busy trying to recover from his situational whiplash and wave of relief. Once he caught back up to the present, however, he held out his open palm and let Adrien drop something into his hand.

To his shock, it was a pen, engraved with the name he recognized as Marinette’s biological mother. He also recognized it as a popular model of pen-knife. He raised his eyes to Adrien, who winked.

“Marinette doesn’t know I had this made. And she has a lot of tricks that might surprise you, but what she wants more than anything is stability. If you try to give her that, show that you care and you want her safe— and then prove that you’re gonna stay— then maybe you can repair the damage you’ve done. It won’t be easy though, Mari is the single most stubborn person I’ve ever met. And I grew up with Chloe.”

Bruce closed his hand around the pen, swallowing a lump in his throat. He couldn’t quite figure out why, but Adrien’s faith in him and his help… somehow felt significant. He nodded to the young model.

“Not to worry, I have experience with stubborn,” he glanced back at his other kids with a small smirk. None of them were the least bit repentant. “And I do want to stay. Thank you for the advice.”

Adrien shrugged. “Don’t thank me. If you hurt her again, you’ll never see my revenge coming. It can be rather… catastrophic,” with that ominous threat, Adrien bowed dramatically and turned to leave and do some rounds charming the elites. Bruce tucked the pen in one of his hidden pockets, but stayed silent after that. He had a lot to mull over.

—*—*—*—*—*

Damian leaned on the railing of the balcony, looking out over the gardens behind the gala’s venue. He was glaring at nothing, and his hands trembled from where they gripped the rail. It was five minutes, a little longer than he had expected but not that odd considering everyone’s distraction over Marinette, before he heard the glass doors behind him creak open.

“Yo,” Jason greeted, knowing it was better not to catch the boy off guard. None of them were good with surprises anymore, for good reason. It was always best to announce their presence before they made someone react violently on accident. Damian’s shoulders relaxed a little— not a lot, but enough for Jason to notice. The older man sighed, walking up and leaning on the rail next to his little brother. “What’s on your mind, kid?”

“That could have been me,” he almost instantly blurted. It was still hard talking about his feelings, but certain things were easier with Todd. This was, apparently, one of them. “If Mother hadn’t kept me a secret.”

“I don’t think so,” Jason disagreed, shrugging. “There are several big differences here. For one, Marinette was born three years before you were. By the time you were born, he already had Dick and he would have only been a year, max, away from taking me in. Which means he already had built up his problem with taking in kids, and nothing would have gotten him to give up a chance at raising you. With or without Batman getting in the way.”

“But then why—” Damian growled. “Why did he give her up?”

“Because he’s an idiot,” Jason remarked bluntly. “You know how he is. He didn’t have a kid at the time. Hell, Bruce would have only been twenty-two back then. He only adopted Dick on impulse because Dick reminded him of himself, but before all of that shit? He probably made a million excuses about not being able to raise a baby and be Batman at the same time. About his life being too dangerous for a kid. Which, yes it is, but that clearly didn’t stop him later.”

“She’s older,” Damian muttered, this time softer.

“Yup.”

“Her mother wasn’t an assassin, probably. She designs. I hate to admit it, and you are never to repeat it to anybody, but her work that we’ve seen so far is impressive. She can clearly charm even the most stuck-up of gotham’s upper crust.”

“Yeah,” Jason agreed neutrally, his eyes never leaving Damian.

“Father won’t need me. He already doesn’t have much patience—” Damian was cut off by a flick to the nose. “Hey!”

“Not my fault you’re being stupid,” Jason defended himself. “Look, B’s actually been real patient with you these past few years. I mean, when was the last time he yelled at you? Or told you that stupid ‘justice not vengeance’ line?”

Damian opened his mouth, then closed it. After another moment, he replied; “Almost two years.”

Jason nodded. “It might take him way too long, but he can still learn new tricks. Especially after that mess with Heretic, he’s been trying really hard to be better to you. He still screws up, because I think we all know by now that he’s a bigger mess than any of the rest of us and that’s an accomplishment, but he’s trying. He doesn’t keep you around because he needs you. He’s got plenty of us around if all he wanted was soldiers— though none of us would stick around if we thought that’s all he wanted.”

Damian flexed his jaw. He was still the most violent of the kids, besides Jason. He saw Bruce rubbing his forehead or pinching his nose far too often at some of his decisions or comments. He was stubborn, impatient, reckless.

But hadn’t Bruce himself told him on several occasions that he wasn’t trying to make him a perfect soldier? Hadn’t Bruce himself said that he just wanted Damian to grow into himself?

It was just really hard to swat away those stupid voices in Damian’s head. Voices of the past, mostly, old dialogue he had never actually forgotten. That he merely pretended had never affected him. The “you’re too violent”s, the “that’s not how we behave, Damian”s. All the old lectures, the old fights. They echoed like stupid little gremlins of doubt.

“...Marinette has his eyes.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over something like that,” Jason’s voice was soft, but gruff at the same time as he cuffed Damian over the head. “You didn’t choose to be born, idiot. And despite being a little demon, none of us would reverse it, You’ve saved all our skins at least once. And besides,” he nudged Damian a little with a grin. “You’re not half bad, nowadays.”

Damian chuckled. “That makes one of us.”

“Hey!”

@peterxwade24 @mizzy-pop @maskedpainter @ladybug-182 @khneltea @itsmeevie01 @fusser90 @woe-is-me0 @lolieg @moonlightstar64 @jayjayspixiepop

[pawsitivelymiraculous]

Damian, the little brother, Dupain-Cheng (Part 1)

I'm backkkk! I explained why this series went on hiatus on this post but yeahhh the Damian Dupain-Cheng series is back and will be posted on it's old schedule (which is every other week) Anyway I really appreciate you guys,, sorry for taking so long and let me know what you think! Comments really motivate me to keep writing.

(I promise I'll add a read more thing and the links tomorrow but I need sleep. for now I'll add the masterlist you can find everything there)

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Ao3 Masterlist

~♡~ Recap ~♡~

Marinette kidnapped/adopted Damian after seeing him with Talia in the Miraculous Café. She gives him the choice between staying with her or a non assassin relative. He chooses to stay in hopes of stealing the miracle box, but since that didn't work he lashed out and tried to kill Marinette and her friends repeatedly. This makes Marinette doubt in herself because she feels guilty about the whole situation. After hearing Marinette cry, Damian runs away confused at the whole situation, but he didn't get far before realizing that he was actually okay with the idea of Marinette becoming his mother. Marinette finds him and they go home. Time passes, they get a dog, Damian grows closer to Marinette and Marinette legally adopts him.

This takes place some time after all of this, like a couple of months.

~♡~♡~♡~

Why am I still in Paris?  

Jason asked himself this every day, and yet he could never find the answer.

Maybe it was because he really had nothing else to do. Well besides killing a Bat.

Or maybe it was because being in Paris somehow cleared some of the madness leftover from the Lazarus Pit that clouded his brain.

In either case it seemed like every time he tried to leave, he would convince himself to stay with the lie that Marinette Dupain-cheng was just as dangerous as Talia had claimed she was.

And that his "brother" really was in danger.

Which only led to him tailing after the pair like a complete creep while feeling miserable because who was he kidding? The woman who had taken Damian in was just as dangerous  as a basket of golden retriever puppies and Damian would have a way better life living with her rather than with Bruce.

And still he could not f*cking leave.

So he continued to observe from the shadows. Trying to remain invisible.

Which had worked out perfectly fine until that day it seemed, because Jason soon found himself pressed against the cold concrete after being flipped by a woman half his size.

Jason tried to look up, but he felt the heel of a shoe pressed against his head.

"Ow"

"Oh, I'm sorry did I hurt you?" Jason heard a familiar voice say. The only difference was that she was speaking in English with a slight accent rather than French.

How the h*ll did she know that he spoke English?

Jason tried to get a better look at his attacker, but she just pressed down her heel deeper making it very clear that she was not sorry at all.

Marinette leaned down to talk to him. "Look kid, I just want to know why you keep following me. Now we can talk like normal people, or I'll have to be a little… unconventional. So what do you say?" 

Kid? Jason couldn't remember the last time he had been called. It was especially surreal coming from such a petite woman who couldn't be older than thirty.

"Now I'm going to let you stand up just… don't do anything stupid."

Stupid seemed to follow Jason because as soon as he felt the pressure on his head lessen, he stood up and ran. The only thing in his mind was getting away from the woman. 

He wasn't able to go far though. As soon as he got to the end of the ally they were in, Jason suddenly felt all the muscles in his body grow weak. Everything around him became blurry and for the second time that day, Jason fell down and hit the gravel.

~♡~♡~♡~

Marinette hadn't meant to use a tranquilizer she made from the bee's miraculous venom on the guy. Honest.

But she needed answers, and he didn't seem in the mood to be the one providing them, so she had to do something before he got away.

Marinette did find it strange how he seemed more interested in running rather than harming her in any way. But she could think about that later. For now, she had to do something about the unconscious body on the ground.

First, Marinette tried to drag him back into the ally because she didn't want to risk anyone seeing her. It was ridiculous how difficult it was to move the guy a couple of inches. Even with all the strength she got from being ladybug, Marinette found herself incredibly tired when she finally managed to get to the end of the alley.

There was no way that Marinette could drag the guy to a safe location. Unless… she had the horse miraculous.

Marinette swiftly grabbed her phone and called Adrien while still holding down the guy in case he regained consciousness. "Hey kitty! Are you busy right now?"

"Um no?" He replied cautiously. "Unless you need me to bury a body, then I'm really busy." He would gladly lie to the police and give marinette suggestions on how to get rid of the body, but actually digging a hole sounded like too much of a hassle in Adrien's opinion.

Marinette laughed nervously. "Don't worry it's not a body." She paused "Not a dead one at least" she added under her breath. 

Adrien heard her anyway "Marinette."

"I just need you to get the horse miraculous and come here." Marinette added quickly when she heard Adrien's disapproving tone. 

"Do I even want to know why you need it?"

Marinette hesitated. Adrien still acted weird around Damian, and she wasn't sure that he would want to get involved with this. "Well I found the guy that was following me" she explained  "and accidentally knocked him out" Marinette stopped when she saw a portal open. "And you’re already here, was there no traffic?"

Adrien laughed as he walked out of the portal. "I was already getting the miraculous while you talked." He explained with a shrug then he looked at the unconscious guy on the floor. "Sooo… do you need help with that?" 

~♡~♡~♡~

Kagami was already at the café's storage area by the time Adrien and Marinette passed through the portal.

Adrien did a double take when he saw her. "Woah, I literally just texted you."

"You said you found the stalker, and I was nearby, and I figured that you would need help interrogating him." she explained. 

"With a sword?" Marinette asked, eyeing Kagami's left hand. "Where did you even get that?"

Kagami smiled. "Yes, and your son has an excellent taste."

Marinette looked at kagami, with a very confused and slightly worried expression. "Wha- when did you go sword shopping?"

Adrien replied instead. "When you asked me to babysit, your little gremlin scares me and gami wanted a sword, so I let him go with her." Then he grabbed a nearby chair and sat the guy in it, and also tied him to one of the stands that held coffee supplies using zip ties.

"You have broken my trust Agreste." Marinette said trying to sound as serious as possible but failing at it. "No, but seriously, let me know next time okay?"

"Yes ma'am"

It took a couple of minutes for the guy to regain consciousness. And as soon as he did, he thrashed around trying to break free from his restraints. Looking around him wildly until his gaze landed on Marinette.

His eyes narrowed. "You" he lunged towards her but was held back.

His attitude was completely different from their first meeting. Before he seemed conflicted and confused. But while he still seemed very confused that confusion was now mixed with rage. Which Marinette could understand, she had just knocked him out and brought him to a strange place.

But Marinette needed answers, the guy was very clearly part of the league, his aura reeked of their darkness, and she was not about to feel sympathy for anyone connected to the league of assassins.

So Marinette held no remorse when she allowed kagami to approach him with her sword after he calmed down a bit. 

"Who are you?" Kagami asked threateningly, then raised the blade dangerously close to his neck. "And why have you been following Marinette?"

The guy didn't even flinch. "Name's Jason" then he turned slightly to look Marinette in the eye. "I am Damian's brother," he continued. 

Marinette's eyes widened. The room fell silent for a moment. 

Jason smirked at his captors' shocked faces as he gave the final blow.  "And I'm here to take him to his father."

~♡~♡~♡~ TAG LIST ~♡~♡~♡~

(If you want to be added please let me know)

@elmokingkong @anjuschiffer , @ii-fox-demon , @justcourttee , @tazanna-blythe , @lozzybowe , @idontfuking, @wannajointhecrabcult , @bakergirl13 , @rosalineandrosemary , @art-is-hard-to-do-sorry , @our-preciousss , @consumeconstantly , @jiso-lee , @allthegooddaimenettenamesaregone, @justcourteesuportline , @finallyaniguana , @user00000003 , @whydoexamsexist , @justafanwarrior , @violetfandomaddict, @smolplantmum @fidget-eep ,@cadenceh2o , @justarandomtumblerblog , @ramos123 @iwantasecretidentity @t1dwarrior-of-earth @thesunniestdays @alice-hazelwood

~♡~♡~♡~ PERMANENT TAG LIST ~♡~♡~♡~

@charme-de-malchan , @theatreandcomicfreak , @m3owww, @elliebelliegirl , @genevieve-the-demonologist, @vixen-uchiha , @t1dwarrior-of-earth , @waffleyunsure , @technicallyburninggarden , @azuremayscarlet , @vroomtaka , @emistar0 , @ichigorose , @maskedpainter , @art-is-hard-to-do-sorry , @alysrose-starchild , @jayjayspixiepop , @abrx2002 ,  @nathleigh , @icerosecrystal , @jumpingjoy82

[hallowxiu]

A Humanistic Fascination

pairing: human!mammon/demon!gn!mc

word count: 3.6k

summary: After your sister Lilith died, you wondered what attracted her to humans in the first place. Your answer comes in the form of a white-haired human named Mammon.

a/n: well this was fun! I kind of want to turn this into a series where mammon is the human selected for the exchange program, but I’m not sure if anyone would be interested. Just let me know; I’m friendly, I don’t bite!! :)

Ever since the day Lilith died and you fell, you had an undying curiosity of humans. You wanted to know what it was about them that drew your sister in so much, a thirst where she was willing to risk and leave everything behind. While your brother Belphegor distanced himself from the humans he once adored, you had done the opposite. Before you and your brothers fell, you didn’t much care for humans. You didn’t dislike them, but you also didn’t like them either. Lilith and Belphegor were always the two to marvel at the creatures down below.

You wanted to know if you missed something. Maybe you didn’t see something the other two had. While your youngest brother now despised them, you wanted to see what drew him in in the first place. Humans had been somewhat of a touchy subject in the House of Lamentation. The obvious reason was Belphegor; anything human related would set him off and it wasn’t a pretty sight. However, the obvious shift in the room whenever humans were brought up was hard to miss.

As the second eldest, you had a bit of a responsibility placed on your shoulders to be a good role model, especially now that the brothers were lost and grieving. Recently, Lord Diavolo had suggested an exchange program where angels and humans would come to the Devildom to learn about the culture in an attempt to join the three realms and have peace. You thought enough time had passed since falling for the brothers to at least consider the idea, but Belphegor had a meltdown and Lucifer nearly locked him up over it. You also noticed a hesitance in your older brother as well. That being said, you wanted to make things easier for everyone. You made sure to help Lucifer with his paperwork so he could get at least some level of sleep, you kept Satan company whenever he felt lonely, you tried to understand all the lingo Leviathan had a tendency to throw out, you tried new foods with Beelzebub (as Belphegor wanted time alone more and more these days…), and you went shopping with Asmodeus every now and then. Belphegor was a different case; he was isolating himself more than Leviathan and you could barely get through to your younger brother. A part of you was hoping that by figuring out more about humans, that you’d somehow be able to get closer with your brother. It was a long shot, and you weren’t even sure it would work, but it was all you had. Even Beelzebub was having a hard time with him these days.

And that’s how you ended up in the human realm. Although you were trying to be a good role model, you did have to sneak away every now and then. Lucifer would never approve of you going to the human realm alone, he had become especially protective of you since falling. You couldn’t blame him; you knew he harbored a lot of blame for the way things ended with Lilith so you tried to be as understanding as you possibly could. That being said, you tried. You still needed to do some things for yourself, and this was one of them. You figured if Lord Diavolo really did plan on hosting an exchange program, growing accustomed to humans and their respective realm would do you some good. For the most part, you stayed hidden in the shadows. When your brothers would travel, like Asmodeus or Satan, they liked to be seen by humans. Never in their demon form (although Satan did lose his temper on that one trip; you try not to delve into that), but they liked to be acknowledged. You were closer to Leviathan in the sense that you liked to blend in with the humans rather than stand out. Unwanted attention might get you into trouble, and the last thing you needed was Lucifer chewing you out about being reckless.

Your eyes narrowed as you observed the streets, taking in the mannerisms of the humans walking by. You were in a busy city and it was mid-December with plenty of human holiday traditions popping up. The hustle and bustle of the city were appealing to you and you could see why so many humans marveled at cities and longed to live there. You were walking through the crowd, hands stuffed in the pockets of your coat despite not being even a bit cold. You wanted to fit in though, so you tried to match everyone else. You noticed how everyone was too busy to look at one another; people rushing by too focused on their everyday lives. At the moment, you couldn’t tell what your two siblings found so appealing about humans. They seemed a little selfish if anything.

And, although ironic enough, you were too busy thinking to yourself to notice others around you, which led you straight into slamming into the chest of someone. “Oi, what the hell-- why don’t ya watch where you’re goin’?” The first thing you noticed was the accent. It was odd, and it certainly didn’t seem to match those of the people surrounding you. The second thing you noticed was the harsh attitude from the mere human you stumbled into. The audacity of some of these humans never failed to amaze you-- oh shit.

You blink several times as you look in front of you, a head of white fluffy hair taking up most of your vision. You still weren’t used to all the interesting colors humans picked to wear, despite the Devildom being filled to the brim with demons who also had some... unique tastes. Hair aside, he was absolutely stunning. You couldn’t find yourself able to look away-- was he also a demon? Did he put you under some kind of spell? Of course, you wouldn’t be surprised to see another demon lurking about, but still--

“Hello? Are ya deaf or somethin’? Ya can’t just go runnin’ into people and then stare at them with these bug eyes. It’s a bit weird, ya know.” Oh, right.

“Uh… sorry?” Not exactly what you planned on saying.

“Yeah…” The man looks at you with a raised eyebrow before clearing his throat and looking away. “Well, I’m in a bit of a rush, so I can’t just stand here all day. Just make sure ya don’t continue to slam into people. Not all of them are as nice as me.” He gives you a wink with that final line and you try to ignore the heat that’s building up in your face. Nice my ass, you can’t help but think. And nearly just as quick as he popped into your life, he vanished. You’re impressed with how fast these humans are; maybe you don’t give them enough credit.

“And where were you?” You were hoping to go unnoticed, but as your luck would have it, of course, Lucifer would catch you the second you walked through the front door. You weren’t a great liar and you both knew this, so you needed to play your cards right. You doubt he’d be happy to know you’ve been running around unsupervised in another realm.

“Uh--”

“You smell like human food.” Beelzebub is quick to point out as he walks into the living room. “Did you bring some human food? Are you going to share?” The red-headed demon is looking at you with a hopeful face and had he not just indirectly ratted you out, you’d probably feel bad for not having any food on you.

“I don’t have any food.” You put it simply and your brother pouts in response. Lucifer, however, is looking at you with a very intense gaze.

“And would you care to explain why you would smell like human food at all?” His arms are crossed over his chest and his foot is tapping against the polished floor. Yeah, you were definitely busted. “And why do you reek of cheap cologne? Were you out with a man?”

“Okay dad, calm down.” You put your hands up in submission. “I was not out with a man, I bumped into one on accident.” More like body slammed into one, but he didn’t need the details. “Maybe he had some human food on him, I don’t know why else I’d smell like it.”

“Must have slammed into him pretty hard to smell that strongly of humans. Unless, of course, the man you crossed paths with was a human.” You swallow thickly under Lucifer’s watchful eye. Damn, you really couldn’t get anything past that man.

“I don’t know why a human would be in the Devildom.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why either.” Lucifer’s looking even more annoyed now. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that. You might have just walked into a trap. “Unless of course…”

“Well, look, maybe he was in the human realm and had a bit of a snack. Maybe he chomped on some humans, I don’t know what you want me to tell you. I can’t keep track of every demon I happen to bump into, but next time I run into one I’ll be sure to take some notes and interview them just in case you don’t like how I smell when I come back home.”

“Watch how you talk to me.” Lucifer was getting a little worked up, but to be fair, so were you. You didn’t mean to be so defensive, but when dealing with someone as investigative as Lucifer, could you really be blamed?

“Well, this was fun and all,” you fake a yawn, “but I’m actually quite tired now. Think I’ll go to bed. Catch some shut-eye. Speaking of,” you point an accusing finger at the eldest, “you should too. All this lack of sleep is what makes you so grumpy.”

“Yes,” he deadpans, “I’m sure it’s the lack of sleep that has me like this.”

Okay, so maybe you had a bit of a problem. Not a big problem, but a problem nonetheless. It had been exactly two days since your first and last outing to the human realm. You had a good time overall, but a certain white-haired boy grabbed your attention and refused to let go. The problem? You knew nothing about him. All you knew was that he had an interesting accent and that he maybe lived in a city. At the very least, he had business in the city. If you still haven’t guessed, your problem is that you can’t get this kid out of your head. You didn’t plan on traveling back to the human realm so soon, but well, life happens and here you are. Right back in the same city as two days ago.

It was still as busy as last time, with people shoving their way down the streets, bags in hands and eyes glued to phone screens. It would be impossible to spot him in this crowd, so you’d have to snoop around. Was this really something you were proud of? No, but you were a demon and you let it justify the odd things you indulged in.

You made your way down a sidewalk, hands stuffed in the pockets of your coat once again as you kept a watchful eye out. Your eyes landed on a small restaurant that was tucked away in a corner and the smell caught your attention. Having temporarily forgotten your mission, and instead thinking of picking up some food for Beelzebub, you made your way towards the restaurant. Pushing the door open, you heard a bell above you ring, alerting your presence to the workers.

“Good afternoon.” A cheerful woman says from behind the counter, currently in the middle of taking an order from a customer. You nod your head in response, debating internally whether or not bringing Beelzebub back food would be worth the scolding from Lucifer as yes, you would essentially be ratting yourself out. You could probably get Beelzebub to swear silence in turn for the food though. As you weigh the pros and cons in your head, you hear a familiar voice come from behind you which makes you freeze in place.

“Eh? What are ya doin’ here? Ya followin’ me or somethin’?” You knew the man was probably joking, but uh… yes. Well, you were at the start, technically, but as luck would have it you just happened to bump into him again, so technically you didn’t stalk him and technically you didn’t track him down. So, no, you were not creepy.

“Yes.” You deadpan, and the white-haired man looks puzzled for a minute before erupting into laughter.

“You’re funny.” He gives you a firm pat on the back as he walks by, and that’s when you take in his appearance. He was wearing an apron, so you could assume he was a waiter for the restaurant. Wow, weren’t you the luckiest demon on this planet? Your eyes scan his uniform, looking for a name tag. Your eyebrow quirks in amusement when you read the word ‘Mammon’. Did his parents hate him? Why would they name a child that? What next? Was his middle name Lucifer too?

“Your name is Mammon.” You deadpan once again.

“Yes.” He replies, a bit of a pout on his lips. You assume he gets comments on his name all the time. You wonder why he hasn’t legally changed it; humans have a process for that, don’t they? They love to change everything.

“It’s nice.” You weren’t lying. As a demon, you did appreciate names on humans that derived from your kind. Although definitely taboo for humans, it was always fascinating to you to see that some humans actually did walk around with demon names.

“Eh? Really?” He’s looking at you with wide eyes again before a dopey smile forms on his lips as the two of you stand chatting by the entrance. “I don’t get that a lot. Are you from around here? I haven’t seen ya much. Have ya been here before?”

“I’m new to the area.” It wasn’t really a lie. “So I’ve just been exploring the area, trying to take everything in. I thought this place smelled good so I came here. I wasn’t expecting to see you.” But it did make things easier. Now that you had a name to a face, maybe you’d be able to get him out of your head.

“So that’s the excuse you’re goin’ with, yeah?” There’s a playful grin on his lips before he leads you to a table. “Just sit tight, I’ll be the one takin’ your order, so glance over the menu, okay?” You can only nod in response as he’s gone almost immediately after. Well, Lucifer would definitely notice your scent now. Nothing about you smelled like a demon; in fact, you’re sure you smelled more human at this point than anything else.

Your eyes follow Mammon’s figure as he disappears into the back, doing who knows what. Cheap cologne, you remember Lucifer bringing that up the other day. You didn’t think Mammon smelled like cheap cologne, he actually smelled quite nice.

You decided to bring your attention to the menu placed on the table in front of you as you found yourself getting too distracted and you didn’t want to risk looking like an actual stalker (although that’s already up in the air) when Mammon comes back. Your eyebrow quirked as you looked over the food. So it’s a café type of place? How cute, you can’t help but think to yourself. You weren’t too hungry, but the longer you stayed there the longer you’d be able to see Mammon. You could always bring it back to Beelzebub.

“Decide on anythin’ yet?” He asks, startling you out of your thoughts. Why didn’t you sense his arrival? You give him a confused look when he places a mug down in front of you. “What? Ya look like a hot chocolate kind of… person?” You stifle a laugh at his odd attempt to address you.

“I do like hot chocolate.” Was it hot in here or was it just you? You cup your hands around the mug and try not to look up at the white-haired man in fear of staring at him like a creep.

“Of course. My intuition is never wrong.” He gives you a wink, which you happen to look up just in time to catch, and low and behold your face is beet red. Just your luck. “So? What do ya want?”

“What do I want?” You choke out and Mammon looks at you with another raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, what do ya want to eat?” Duh.

“U-Uh, yeah, this!” In a panic, you quickly point at a random spot on the menu, to which Mammon bends down to examine it.

“So you’re big on sweets, yeah? I like chocolate too, but that’s a lot even for me.” He has a toothy grin on his face and you quickly look down to see just what exactly it was that you picked out. A chocolate cake drizzled in chocolate sauce served with a side of chocolate wafers. Yeah, that wouldn’t have been your pick if you had actually paid attention, but it is what it is.

“It’s because I’m so sweet.” Yeah, you hated that the second it left your mouth. Mammon, however, seemed to like it as he blurted out a laugh.

“I can’t say that I disagree.” He looks thoughtful for a moment before shifting on his feet. “I’m about to go on break, would ya mind if I sat with ya?” And cue your cheeks heating up again. You just hoped it wasn’t too noticeable.

“Sure, yeah, I don’t mind.” You’re scratching at the back of your neck shyly as you look around the mostly empty restaurant.

“Cool!” Your face is buried in your hands once the man leaves, a shaky sigh leaving you. Did he want to sit with you? You didn’t know if you should consider yourself lucky or unlucky at this point.

At least ten minutes went by before Mammon joined you at your table, the man pulling out his phone as he sat in the empty seat. He was clearly excited to be on break, the man rambling about his day and all the annoying customers he had to deal with. You listen silently as you pick at your cake. You had forced yourself to eat half of it before he joined you, not wanting to look like you didn’t like it and have the white-haired boy ask you questions regarding it. You were still unsure how to feel about his company, but a part of you felt lighter than before.

“What time do you work until?” You found yourself asking and you shyly glanced over at the other.

“I close.” There’s a pout on his lips and you find yourself smiling. “Kinda sucks, but the pay is alright. Better than nothin’ anyway, especially with the holidays comin’ up and all.” He’s playing with his fingers as he glances down at his phone. Was he waiting for something? Maybe he had a partner and he was waiting for them to text him back. For some reason, that thought makes you frown. “Ah, actually,” there’s a sheepish smile on his lips and his cheeks are turning a pretty shade of red, “I was wonderin’ if I could actually get your number.” He’s scratching at the back of his neck and you feel your heart skip several beats in response. He wanted your number? Your number? Him? Your expression must have startled him as the man across from you started stammering out an excuse. “Ah, but, actually-- if it’s too invasive, I didn’t mean anythin’ like that-- I swear, oh god.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” You were beyond grateful, but there was only one teenie tiny issue. “I don’t have a phone.” Well, a human phone that is. You had a perfectly working D.D.D, but nothing that could interact with the human realm. Mammon looks slightly dejected and you know that he doesn’t buy your excuse. You weren’t surprised, a lot of humans seemed to have phones in this era. Living without one seemed to be impossible for them. And, as if the universe wanted to punish you for flirting with a human that was so beneath you, your D.D.D immediately goes off.

Your face pales as you just stare in horror at Mammon. He looks slightly annoyed, though you can tell he’s trying to play it off. That had to sting. “Look, it’s cool. Ya don’t owe me any explanations if ya don’t want me havin’ your number.” He checks his phone once again, the silence in the air suffocating you. “Ya should probably answer that, don’t ya think?” Yeah, he was definitely annoyed with you. You clumsily grab your D.D.D from your pocket, nearly dropping it in the process. You swear under your breath when seeing it’s Lucifer. You wonder what the odds were of him finding out you were in the human realm.

“I uh, I have to go.”

“Important call?” There was bitterness just barely contained in his voice. How did things go so wrong so fast?

“I’m sorry.” You say lamely before leaving all the human currency you had on the table and darted out the doors of the restaurant. God, you’d never be able to show your face in the human realm again. That embarrassment would last for centuries, you were sure of it.

[gamerwoo]

[Tales from the Pack] Hansol: Fire and Ice (Part Three)

Characters: Hansol x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, angst, a little fluff sprinkled in there, implied death/suicide, minor character death (i mean i think they count as minor??? but they’re major to me 🤧)

Word count: 1,649

Summary: You’ve always been one to let your emotions get the best of you – your power reflects that – and you’ve never been good at expressing them. That’s why you always thought you’d be awful with a mate, but you never thought things would be this awful.

a/n: things in bold are in english and things in italics are memories/dreams

Previous | Next | Fire and Ice Masterlist

Your first memory was when you were about three or four. You were on a boat with Jiung and your parents. They smiled at you and spoke to you in a slight accent. You knew you looked different from them, and so did a lot of your siblings, but you knew that despite that, they were your parents. They made sure you always knew they weren’t your birth parents, but you loved them like they were.

You didn’t like looking at the water, so your dad held you down in the boat where most of the passengers were to keep from the sea spray while he told you how this was how him and your mother brought the two of you home with them. Jiung, though, loved the water, and your mom held him outside to watch the waves and taste the salt. You cried because you didn’t want to be away from your brother, so your dad brought you back up to the deck to find him. You still hated the water, but it wasn’t so bad with Jiung beside you.

-

You were eleven and had excitedly greeted your parents when they arrived home with your new little sister -- you already had five others, not counting Jiung. You didn’t understand why they had so many kids, but you grew to love them all like siblings -- Jiung was always the most special to you, of course.

You learned they knew a number of different languages since you had brothers from China and Thailand, and sisters from Brazil, Poland, Tanzania, and now India. They all had two things in common: they were adopted because bad things had happened to them and they needed a better home, and they all spoke Korean. You and Jiung were taught the language as well.

Even after you’d learned of your birth names, Jiung decided he liked his Korean name better because it was what he had grown up being called. He was Jiung, not Jerimiah. You wanted to be just like Jiung, so you decided the same.

-

You were fifteen, and your eyes shifted to red as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You were sweating and shaking, and you called out for Jiung as your nails turned into sharp claws that scratched against the sink.

Your brother rushed in and almost stumbled backwards when he saw you  staring in the mirror with fangs jutting out over your bottom lip. Your parents came in soon after and gasped at what they saw. You turned from the mirror to look right at them, your eyes wide with fear.

But your family didn’t run away from you as you cried from fear and confusion. Instead, your brother rushed toward you and held you in his arms as you tried to make sense of what was happening. Then your mother and father joined the hug, and promised things would be okay.

And you were suddenly back to normal.

-

You felt someone shaking your leg, and your heavy eyelids managed to open enough to see the person: Chanseong. His eyes were red and puffy, and he was dressed in layers of sweaters and jackets like he’d be going outside for a long walk.

You couldn’t manage to sit up. Your body felt like jelly, and you were on the verge of going back to sleep again.

“_____?” Chanseong’s voice was hoarse as he spoke to you. Everything kind of sounded like you were underwater, too. “I’m…I’m leaving.”

“L-leaving?” you repeated, your tongue feeling like rubber when you tried to say anything.

“I’m gonna go find Jiung’s body,” he continued.

There was a tiny part in the back of your brain that knew that was the dumbest and worst idea. Alarms were going off, screaming to stop him. But it was all overpowered by whatever you inhaled, so you were still in a dream-like state.

“Why?” you asked, fighting to keep your eyes cracked open.

“When a wolf dies, their mate has to lay with them for the next 24 hours,” he explained, “so I’m going to do that for him.”

“B-but…hunters ‘n’ stuff,” you mumbled.

Chanseong shook his head, “That won’t be a problem. I have a backup plan. They won’t be able to torture me if I’m already too far gone.”

“Then…w-why bother?”

“I just–” he stopped, choking back tears, “I need to be with Jiung, _____. There’s nothing else for me.”

“But…Rika…”

“Rika’s stronger than me. Rika had Jiung to help her.”

“Chanseong–”

Chanseong cut you off, placing his hand gently over your mouth, “Goodbye, _____.”

You felt his lips pressed against your forehead. They were cold. He straightened up and stood from the bed, walking toward the door.

“Try not to give anyone too much trouble, especially Hansol. You know your brother would want him to watch out for you, so let him.”

With that, Chanseong opened the door and left, and you were consumed by the darkness again.

-

You stood in the large space of your backyard, staring at a shadowy figure through the fog. They looked far away, sitting on their knees. When you sniffed the air, you knew it was your brother.

Immediately, you ran to him. You remembered what you were told: he was shot; he’s dead. You had to save him. If you didn’t nobody would. Jiung was too self-sacrificing, so you had to be the one to help. You couldn’t lose your brother.

When you were a few yards away, you stopped dead in your tracks. Jiung was still kneeling, but you could see his body riddled with bullet holes and blood soaking his clothes. He had one right in the middle of his forehead with a trail of blood dripping straight down his nose before it trickled off to the corner of his mouth and down his jaw. You knelt in front of him, crawling on your knees until you could wrap your arms around him. You sobbed into his shoulder, begging him not to go. But he stood, stared blankly down at you, and walked away into the fog, leaving you alone.

Alone. You were alone. Your biggest fear was always being alone. When you were were old enough to comprehend that you were abandoned by your birth parents at the age of one. When you were thirteen and you were worried your parents and brother would forget about you in the sea of brothers and sisters. When you were fifteen and started showing signs of being a werewolf, and you were sure your family would disown you. And even after establishing a large pack, you were terrified of ending up all alone. You knew you couldn’t handle yourself if you were alone.

But you suddenly felt warmth in your hand. You looked down to see that the dark grass covered with fog was clearing to a pretty green with blooming flowers. You stared at the hand in yours before following up their arm to see Hansol, looking back at you with his golden eyes. Behind him, the sun broke through the grey clouds, warming your entire body. But despite his cold power, your hand was the warmest part of your body.

You just stared at him, wanting to scream and yell and kick his teeth in, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t even bring yourself to rip your hand away from his. In fact, you moved closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder. He didn’t let go of your hand, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

“You’re not alone,” you faintly heard Jiung’s voice.

You weren’t alone.

-

You jolted up with a gasp, sweat beading on your forehead. You could smell Jiung clearly still, but noticed it was because somebody had put you in one of his sweaters. You wanted to cry because it still smelled like him, and you didn’t want that smell to fade. You pulled one hand up to the collar, bringing it to your nose to inhale the scent deeper. The pain in your heart grew, yet the scent was still comforting so you couldn’t bring yourself to take off the sweater.

The warmth in your other hand didn’t fade as the dream did. You looked down to see someone really was holding your hand. Following their arm, you saw Hansol staring at you with concern as he sat on the edge of the bed. His golden eyes from your dream studied you carefully.

“You started crying and mumbling Jiung’s name,” he told you softly. “I brought you something of his to see if it helped, but you kept crying, and I didn’t want to just leave you here, so I…”

His voice trailed off, unable to read your expression. You still felt a lot of things toward Hansol, but you weren’t sure which was more prominent. You couldn’t help but feel the strong imprinting pull, but you also felt all of that anger toward him for letting your brother die. You were conflicted, and it made your head and heart hurt.

“Do you want me to go?” Hansol asked slowly.

You didn’t reply because you didn’t even know the answer. You just laid back down on your side with a huff, but you still didn’t pull your hand from his.

Hansol let out a soft sigh as he stood. But as you felt his hand slipping from yours, you tightened your grip. You didn’t even know why you did it, but you did, and you refused to let go.

He stopped and looked at you, trying to see any shift of your mood. But you were still scowling at the wall. However, your grip didn’t let up, so he just sat back down.

And that’s how you stayed: sitting together in silence with his hand in yours and his thumb still rubbing your knuckles.

But you weren’t alone.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

cardigan

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: violence

a/n: this is a limited three part series based on three of my favourite songs from taylor swift’s 2020 life saving albums; cardigan, willow and invisible string. this one is cardigan, hope you enjoy xx

WILLOW

She clutched onto her worn out brown leather bag as she stepped inside the her father’s precinct. There wasn’t much that looked different from when she was a little girl, the tables still stood on the same messy layout which made no sense, the officers still didn’t look up whenever someone came in and the whole room smelled like stale coffee and burnt bread. The only difference was that the once endless room now felt small, nauseating, confining, a place where she didn’t want to be. 

      - Y/N. - her father’s voice rang through the small room, making her look up to where he was standing. Captain William, or dad if she was lucky enough to call him as such, was an intimidating presence even after all these years yet after her mother’s death it was him who was left of her family. - Come in. 

Her shoes felt heavy as she stepped inside his office, two more officers standing inside as she walked with her father. He closed the door, nodding his head which was a tell tale for everyone to sit down. She sat at the end of the dark green couch, away from the other two officers who were looking her up and down as if she were a prey.

       - I told you she would be perfect. Inconspicuous, he wouldn’t even think she’s undercover.

       - She’s not the type of woman Barnes go for.

       - She doesn’t need to be the type of woman he goes for, she needs to be the one who works in his bar and listens to their plans. 

Her father had told her about James Barnes. They had been trying to get him in for minor offences yet nothing seemed to pan out. The force knew they could never apprehend him for the crimes he knew he had committed but if they could get him in for something small: weapon charge, drug charge, something. For that to happen they needed someone to be in their circle and unluckily for them, Barnes and his men knew everyone who worked in the force but they didn’t know her. In return for her working in his bar, the force would pay her tuition fees as well as any books she needed. 

“It won’t be hard” was what her father had told her but as they dropped her at the bar she couldn’t help but freeze at the door. They were expecting her, she had gotten the job yet she couldn’t find herself walking inside. In any other situation she would’ve rushed past it, it wasn’t the place she would like to be in. Her hand grasped the bar of the door, pushing it open. The nightclub looked vastly desert with squeaky clean floors and bright lighting which showed the dark aesthetic of every single owned Barnes club in town. She didn’t know the man but she knew his style, dark, sleek, leather, sensual even, enough to make people feel sexual whenever they walked into his club. Yet, in broad daylight it was merely an abandoned establishment with one a table with a few hangover men still nursing a bottle of beer each, waiting for 7 PM for the club to come back to life. 

She stood out like a sore thumb, dressed in brown tones. A loose gingham black dress over a brown turtle neck covered and low black Mary Janes. Her eyes roamed the room, looking for someone to speak to but someone found her first. A tall man, probably pushing fifty, toothpick hanging from his lips and dirty rag on his left hand. She felt short, cowering under the gaze of the man.

     - You're the new girl, or what? - he questioned, thick Brooklyn accent yet Y/N didn’t dare reply, instead nodding at him. - Do you have a name?

     - Y/N.

     - Y/N, that’s nice. I’m Bobby, I’m the bar supervisor. You wanna talk to anyone? You talk only to me and you’ll do well.

She nodded her head quickly, almost like a bobble head figure, following him behind to bar. Now Y/N knew about bars or at least what they did in them, she just wasn’t expecting to see the huge amount of spirits, wines, and beers behind her. She was almost sure if someone robbed the club, they’d be better off with the booze than the money in the cash register.  The man, Bobby, ran through the basics, showing here with the cleaning products were, where some more complicated cocktail mixtures were written, how the washing machine worked and how crucial it was to constantly collect glasses from the bar and put them in there. She held a small reporter notepad, pen scribbling down messy wiggles which she wouldn’t be able to understand later on but it was still worth it. She could memorise it, she was a university student after all hence her memory for cocktails shouldn’t be hard. Everything was so polished, meticulously placed, almost too organised for a bar; the bottles placed onto glass shelves which light from under, placed almost the same measure apart in a sea of expensive beverages. 

     - Don’t serve any drinks to people who haven’t presented a payment form. If the boss comes in, serve him whiskey on the rocks. Glenlivet, no other brands. 

     - I’ve never seen the boss.

     - You’ll know. 

She was left there watching as more staff came in, the sun going down at the same time. “Just breathe, Y/N” she remembered her father’s words, she could do it, she could do it. How hard could it possible be to be a bartender? Just breathe, Y/N. She can do it, she can help his father, she can do this and then no longer have to worry about how many hours she would have to do at that little mean shop which had taken more of her than she gave them. She could be a regular university student, she just needed to breathe.

The purple, blue lights started to light the sunlight coloured bar as people started to queue up outside for a chance to get inside one of the most famous bars in town. She could faintly remember hearing her friends talking about how exclusive it was but as she looked out the window and at the queue she could finally understand it. As the doors opened and people started flocking in, suddenly she was serving drinks left and write, vodka and other shoots drenching her dress and apron as she messily tried to serve everyone at the bar screaming at her to hurry up. She kept running around like a crazy person, dragging bottles and bottles and pouring drinks which kept overfilling and dropping onto the floor. People kept yelling at her “hey sugar, how long does it take you to bring me some vodka?” but one man who was sitting still, gaze glued onto her while a cigarette hanged from the middle of his lips. She cowered under his gaze returning to hand a tray of jello shots to some girls. 

She continued to work until the last person was out of the bar but the man remained calmly leaned against the bar, the flame of his cigarette dying down. She tried to avoid him, pretending to clean the spot over and over again but the man merely scoffed, rubbing the butt of the cigarette against the ash tray.

      - You’re terrible. - he spoke out, voice raspy. - Who hired you?

      - That’s nothing to do with you. - Y/N turned around to place back the bottles onto the shelves.

      - Are you the owner?

      - No. - she placed the bottles on the shelf, hands shaking. 

      - Then it is something to do with me. - the air seemed to be punched out of her lungs, as her grip tightened around the neck of the bottle she was holding. She refused to turn around and look at him, understanding what it implied. Instead she just looked at herself in the glass wall. Just breathe, Y/N. - Can I get a ...

      - Glenlivet. - she rose herself on her tippy toes, interrupting him mid sentence. Grabbing from ice from under the bar, she added it to the glass, topping it with the expensive whiskey before placing it under a black square napkin. She continued to wipe down the counter until Bobby came back from the storage unit with more alcohol. 

     - You can go now, Y/N. I’ll see you at 7. - Bobby dismissed her and almost like thunder, she bolted off, not even stopping and allowing him to question why their boss was sitting at the bar.

Clutching her bag against her chest she started walking up to campus. She had done it, or at least managed to do something yet get no information her father wanted. That is unless her father wanted to know James Barnes’ drink of choice which she was pretty sure he didn’t want to know. Reaching her flat, she turned the key around, opening the door to see her friend Wanda waiting in the couch. 

    - You’re alive. - she mocked, turning the TV on. - Once again, tell me why you said yes to working in a mob bar ...

    - It’s not a mob bar, Wanda.

    - It is a bar owned by a mob boss who has been blamed on several murders. It is a mob bar. 

    - I’m just a bartender, nothing is gonna happen.

    - Can you tell me again why you’re doing this? Your father is the reason why you were raised by John Hughes’ movies. 

    - Okay, Wanda, you made your point. - Y/N took her jacket off, hanging it onto one of the hooks in the door.

    - I’m buying you pepper spray.

    - Pepper spray is illegal, Wan. 

    - So is the bar you’re working.

    - Okay. I’ll be careful, don’t worry. I’ll go to sleep now.

Wanda continued to ramble about her working where she was but there was really nothing she could do other than continue. All she had to do was breathe and listen and the department would pay for her tuition for the rest of her degree. Small price to pay for a much bigger price. 

As another day started, the routine started once again with her awaking up and running into class with Wanda complained about her brother followed by spending the rest of her free time until her shift began. Walking back to the bar she was telling herself once more that she would be just fine and that Wanda slipping a knife inside her bag was only her overreacting. Stepping inside the same building, Bobby was setting some shoot glasses on the counter.

    - Y/N. - he acknowledged her. - Glad to see you’re still here.

    - Wouldn’t be anywhere else. - she placed her bag and jacket under the bar and tied her apron around her waist. - Busy day?

    - Fridays are the busiest. All the university kids. Let me know if you need a hand.

    - I’m sure I’ll be okay.

Once again, wrong. She was not okay and as everyone found themselves flocking to the bar she was already running around like a crazy person, holding two bottles on each hand as people. The lights were blinding, shining on her as she served and slide more drinks onto the bar counter and to the waitresses who’d give her snide remarks whenever she took too long. Her hands were numb from the ice already yet her face was warm from moving side to side. At least, Mr. Barnes wasn’t around and that was already something she could be thankful for. She knew she had to eventually speak to him if she wanted to ever hear anything or maybe she wouldn’t have; she was good at being invisible, maybe she could just overhear something without having to ever speak with him.

   - Hey, sugar, where’s my drink? - a sluggish voice came from the bar and Y/N ignored it. Bobby told her, if anyone sounds or looks drunk to cut them off that “Mr. Barnes doesn’t need drunk people being roudy in his bar”. She continued to serve the group of girls celebrating passing an exam until the man moved over to them. - Hey, I asked where is my drink?

   - Sorry, you’re cut off. - she shrugged, grabbing some glass onto a plastic bucket so Bobby could put them in the washing machine.

   - What the fuck? C’mon give me my drink.

   - No. - Y/N just ignored it, turning around to put the bottles back onto the shelves.

   - Well then be useful and show me your tits. - the man scoffed as if it was the best joke in the world. Y/N turned around, speechless at what he had said before grabbing an half empty drink from the bar and throwing it at him which surprised the man just as much. - You bitch!

   - What’s the problem here? - fuck. Of course he had to show up. Mr. Barnes made his way towards them, holding that same powerful yet frightening stance as the strobing lights painted his face. His eyes were on her, waiting for her to say something but Y/N was mostly frozen. That was it, she was about to get shot, or worse, lose a finger or a leg or an arm. Oh god, how could she take exams without an arm? 

   - Your bartender isn’t serving me. - he pointed at her as if he were a 5 year old. 

   - Really? - Barnes stood slightly behind him and all she could see in a glimpse second was his metal arm, reflecting the strobing lights, come up to the nape of the man’s neck before he slammed his face against the glass topping of the bar counter. Y/N was startled by this, jumping back against the wall of drinks. - Get the fuck out of my bar. 

The man ran off, bloody nose, like a scared wounded animal leaving Y/N only to stare at him. Her mind rushed miles an hour, wondering if he had done that to someone what he would do to her. She should’ve taken the pepper spray from Wanda. 

   - Get back to work. - he left her with that, turning around and getting lost in the sea of people dancing. 

   - Hey ... - Bobby touched her arm, waking her from her own mind. She looked at her hands; good she still had both hands. - Go take a break, wash the glasses, I’ll do the bartending for a while.

   - I’m fine, Bobby.

   - I know. I just want you to go do something else. - Y/N nodded, not wanting to disobey anyone yet she couldn’t help but be glad she would be in the back where the big washing machine was for most of the pint glasses and other oddly shaped cups. After all, Mr. Barnes wouldn’t be hanging in the kitchen.

She pushed her hair away from her face and put on the big pink gloves and started to wash the glasses and plates from some small appetisers they sold until closing time started to near. Once the bar was cut off, she joined Bobby to clean the always messy bar and make it look as precise as it looked every single day. Another day survived, no limbs lost. 

   - That was a good one, Y/N. See you tomorrow. - Bobby bid her farewell as he exited through the door. Y/N stayed behind, moping the floor behind the mar which was mostly a pool of mixed drinks that she always somehow managed to overfill and drop onto the floor on her way to serve them. As she continued to mop, the person who she didn’t want to see sat at the bar and without much thinking, she served him his drink of choice. 

   - I ... hm ... I have to go, I have to walk home and my flatmate is waiting for me.

   - You’re walking home with your flatmate?

   - No, she’s waiting for me at the flat. - Y/N grabbed her cardigan, putting it on which immediately brought her a nostalgic warmth. 

   - I’ll drive you. 

   - Oh .. no, Mr. Barnes. It is not necessary, I’ve walked home before, I know the way. 

   - And I know the type of men who walk around my bar. - he downed the whiskey as if it were water. - Come on. 

Oh god, I’m going to sleep with the fishes. He’s gonna kill me in his car. Y/N thought to herself as she followed him to the back of the bar where he had parked his car. Of course it was a good car, a new model black Audi with sleek matte black leathered seats which looked more expensive than everything together at the bar. She wondered how much money he made. Her father hadn’t told her much about him and all she knew was merely gossip. He opened the door for her which she took as a sign to get inside the car. Once in, she noticed how awfully warm it was, he probably had the heating on so she took off her cardigan, shoving it in front of her feet as he entered the car. 

   - Where am I dropping you?

   - The student campus, south building

   - You’re a student? - he asked as the motor roared, signalling the start of the car. - Why you working here then?

   - It pays well. My mother paid for my first years but I still have my third one and a possible masters. 

   - Why not ask mum for the rest of the money then?

   - Well she’s dead. - she said, not taking the eyes off the road. - Her inheritance lasted as long as it could but tuition is expensive.

   - I’m sorry. - he tried to sneak a look at her but gave up, instead keeping his eyes on the road. - You’re a terrible bartender.

   - You’ve said that one time already, I’ve heard it. If I’m so terrible why don’t you fire me?

   - Bobby likes you. Says you’re a quick learner. Yet again, he likes every single wide eyed Disney Princess girl who works behind the bar. I give you a month or two before you quit or get knocked up.

   - I’m not gonna quit and I’m not gonna get knocked up either. 

   - Got a boyfriend?

   - No.

   - Husband? Friends with benefits?

   - I don’t have the time so if you want to get rid of me you’ll have to fire me.

   - I don’t fire people. - she saw her building come closer and closer from the car window. - Is it that one?

   - Yes. - she grabbed her bag, eager to leave the car before anything could happen. 

   - Hey, you got a black dress? - he asked as she exited the car and she nodded yes. - Good, bring it to work tomorrow. 

She mumbled an okay as the car drove away. God, she was alive. Good.  All she wanted now was to return to her home and in a few minutes she was back in her living room where Wanda and her twin brother Pietro were waiting for her. Of course waiting meant watching Shark Tank and discussing how bad all the inventions were. 

   - How was work in hell? - Wanda didn’t even look at her, eyes glued to the TV while she stuffed popcorn in her mouth.

   - I didn’t need to use the knife you snuck into my bag, thank you.

   - You snuck a knife onto her back? - Pietro looked dumbfound at his sister who immediately snapped back with a response. 

   - She’s working for James Barnes, she needs to carry a knife block and she’s lucky I only put a steak knife. - Wanda turned around in the couch. - Hey where’s your cardigan? I swear you left with it. 

   - Shit. - Y/N looked around. - Fuck, I’ve left it in his car.

   - Whose car? 

   - Mr. Barnes’. He gave me a ride and I took my cardigan off because the car was so warm. Fuck. I’ll never see it again.

   - Why were you in his car, are you crazy? - now Wanda was interested. Clearly her best friend’s lack of judgment was more interesting than the poor soul trying to pitch a tuna can opener shaped like a tuna to a bunch of executives.

   - He gave me a ride ... oh and do you have a black dress?

   - I do. - Pietro said gaining an odd look from the two girls. - What? Girls love me and I love them. Stuff get’s left behind. What can I say?

   - You’re disgusting. - Wanda rolled her eyes. 

taglist: @lookiamtrying @mariamermaid @sebastianstansqueen @unmagically​

[border-spam]

Does troy really have a split jaw or is that fanon?

It's total fanon!

The design of the split lines across his cheekbones and chin coupled with the cheek clips and v shaped hinge outline next to his ears lead to a lot of people coming to that same outcome, that there is something up with his mouth from a prosthetic/mod standpoint.

So much of his design is never mentioned once or referenced in any way (hightech spinal rig with tattoos under it, neuro connector, mech arm that's much older and doesn't seem related to the spine and neuroport, implants on bicep, face mod etc) that like Tyreen's scars and possible lower body Siren markings, fandom took over when it came to coming up with logical explanations for 'em.

This actually touches ground with some Ao3 comments I wanted to share as they are all Leech Lord compliant, so I'll list them here alongside links to the fics they were related to (note warnings!)

You leave no avenue for characterization unexplored. Troy's facial prostheses finally receiving backstory is amazing

- Maw (Gore/Bodyhorror)

I LOVE the idea of it being not just decorative shit on his face, but my MO for any content I make is always based around asking why, over and over, and trying to make sense of what material I'm using in the first place. The modded mouth is a popular piece of fanon but you know... why? Why would he do that shit to himself. WHY would he want to be grotesque, why would he be chasing the reaction people would have to it when canonically he seems to really not be interested in fan attention the same way Tyreen is, what's the difference to him between being adored as his persona or being lusted after as a monster, etc. I just love deep-diving into the logic behind character and world building? It's what adds meat to the bone for me.

Big 'ol character and worldbuilding / lore responses list under the cut -

He could afford better robots but these ones UNDERSTAND Ty, don't you get it?

- Good night in (tooth rotting fluff)

Hey just because it's mangled and broken, and can't perform its intended function to a degree expected of it by everyone around it... and it's got rusty sharp bits it accidentally hurts you with sometimes... and it's cranky but it doesn't mean it... and sometimes it errors out in a way that's mildly disturbing in a way you can't place.. uh.. doesn't mean you should just GIVE UP ON IT you know? He can fix them :) They will be fine :) No one should just throw away something that's trying so hard just because it's damaged... haha... :')

It's so hard seeing how much they tear each other down when they're the only thing they have left. And what a poor self-image Tyreen has beyond all that glitter and bluster...

- Wolf in sheep's clothing

The twins function well enough as a unit till tensions rise, and I was trying to seed in The Leech's influence on them in earlier work like this too - towards anyone else Ty would become MORE aggressively confident, more assured in her complete and utter dominance of the situation, her flawlessness, but against Troy who see's her for what she is, it turns inwards and eats at her instead of lashing outwards. He switches from relatively submissive around her to almost surgical levels of dissection, he knows exactly how to go for the jugular with words, and doesn't hold back. She's The Leech's mouth but he's its eyes and it's only when they lose control emotionally enough for it to claw to the surface of their psyches that you get an idea of how much it really affects them individually. GB had an absolute goldmine on their hands here of cosmic/body horror and the concept of toxic family when all you have is each other, there's so much to work with, and I figure it's a factor in why some people still really enjoy messing around with Calypso content.

I like how you allow Troy to be a disabled character, how his congenital defects and prosthetics colour his outlook and appear in ways big and small in all these vignettes. It's easy, I think, to see him as largely untroubled by his health apart from when he needs a charge from Tyreen in the game, but you allow him to struggle with his weakness.

- Chronic (Drug use)

I'm really glad to hear that's coming through in the writing because it's something I noticed a lot too. Very often when Troy, or other characters canonically disabled / chronically unwell are written it's "told" and not "shown". Chronic pain, illness, it's not something that is just a little tickbox in a life or some descriptive terms added to a character synopsis, it's something you live and deal with. There are bad days. There are times it is a negative that has to be worked around or faced in ways that aren't pleasant. It doesn't make you lesser or weak to have times where illness does leave you unable to function to a level you want to, it's not a failure for you to be unable to perform tasks when a disability or flair up means it's not viable. I feel personally that by showing scenes like this where his health and body issues do have a very visceral and impossible to ignore the effect on his ability to function, and going through his mental processes of dealing with and managing them, it brings the character across as stronger than if he never seemed to be shown dealing with symptoms or weaknesses. People are more than their disabilities and conditions, those aren't just kinda taglines to add onto a character's description and then never address. I feel like doing that in a way undermines what people deal with who manage chronic illness, pain, and who have disabilities that affect their daily lives negatively. Appreciating the effort it takes to manage them is important.

What I really like about these is that you can really understand as a reader how their dynamic must have evolved. How even before Leda's death Tyreen would have felt demonized while Troy got the attention because of his condition, because he was less willful.

- Starlight, Moonbright

Ah man, absolutely - and that shit stayed with them. It wasn't his fault and he never wanted it, but of course their parents would have had their extremely ill child at the forefront of their thoughts, especially during weeks when he was.. bad. Tyreen by nature even without The Leech's influence is a little attention seeker, she'd be the life of any party and she BLOSSOMS if she's got the spotlight, but as a little kid who's got literally no one but her parents and her brother, and who all three of which can't give her nearly as much time as she deserved? That's rough. That's really unfair. That coupled with The Leech's warping effect on their egos as they grew up and the bitterness and resentment they harbored in different ways created a reverse dynamic. She'd never be out of the Galaxy's attention again, and he'd have no choice but to take his rightful place in her shadow.

I love how you illustrate both how much more, and yet how much less Troy is now. How the blameless child, full of potential, is inextricably linked to the brutal, larger-than-life avatar he fashions.

- DeLeon ( Graphic Violence / Gore / Hallucinations)

He's molded the monster he is now out of the bones of the man he should have been - there's no going back really. There's nothing left to go back to. He broke Troy DeLeon apart to build the persona that acts like an iron lung now, suffocating him breath by breath while forcing him to still take them. That life is over, he killed it before it had a chance, but the idea of it is still there in his subconscious. Somewhere in the absolute trainwreck of Troy's brain is the tiny, flickering belief that maaaaaybe one day this will all be over and he can shuck off the bracer and spines, peel off all the shit he's covered his skin with, and just go back to not being Calypso. DeLeon here isn't some aspect of his mental state or his sins haunting him - it's The Leech, spitting venom at a host it loathes in something that's not sound or comprehensible language. His subconscious has just translated it into something it can understand - his greatest regret.

On if Borderlands Humans originated on Earth -

There's a really tenuous link between BL verse and rEarth, but it's there and can't be ignored. The cultures, accents, terminologies, so many are Earth specific despite these people being spread across galaxies, so hell yes - Earth as an emergence point makes total sense. The next question then, is why is it never mentioned - and you can cover for that with a lot of things like say, tt was so long ago that it's not relevant to anything that would ever be discussed, or it could be a mass evacuation from a catastrophe there is little record of now. I like to go with something along those lines, that the first human Siren host emergence on earth just absolutely decimated the planet. Like, we were doing fine till this random woman somewhere in the ass-end of nowhere develops weird markings overnight, then goes apocalyptic. The first Leech maybe, not understanding her powers and having them rip across continents in a spread of crackling electric death that only left husked shells of plants and animals in its wake, or the first Firehawk who went nuclear and burned the sky, or the first Voidgrasp who lost control and began to collapse the planet's core - some extreme shit that had humans fleeing en masse with barely any preparation and HUGE swathes of history and knowledge left behind. That would cover so many social things surviving into the BL verse, cultures, accents, cooking, that shit comes with us regardless of what we were able to throw into escape ships. Like so much data would be stored on any tech and data arrays within the vessels people would use to leave a dying planet even in an insane rush, but that shit waters down over time - if you're farming barely edible plants on some planet that smells like farts, are you really gonna be that stressed about teaching your kids history from a lost planet when your current concerns are not being eaten by something with 19 legs and 4 buttholes? Don't think so.

On if the other Siren entities are as influential to their hosts as The Leech -

I touch on it a wee bit throughout LL, but the others are FAR more passive and meld more to their host's whims. The Firehawk Siren wouldn't.. like.. care? If the host was burning down a planet or fighting off an evil corporation? They are removed from any nonsense happening on this side, they might not even really be able to tell, it's like asking an amoeba or a collection of sentient atomic particles what its opinion is on Brexit. That's not really its priority. The Leech is so aggressive in its control of the twins and desperation to drive them towards an outcome it desires only cause it's split, broken, removed from the song, and completely lost. We're talking a caged, half-mad animal removed from its natural environment and left totally isolated from its own kind for millennia. It's in pain, it's confused, it wants to find its way back to the song and the others and where it belongs, but it's stopped by a barrier it can't comprehend ( the twins and being ripped between them), so in its impotent rage it feeds back that hatred onto them. It's not really sentient in the way we would describe functional intelligence, but it wants, and craves, and FEELS. And it feels very, very angry.

Big thanks to @undergoingcalibrations for talking through so much of this with me!

Asks are Open!

[unholyobsessions]

Oblivious Memories

Pairing: Julie x Luke

Description: The Universe is in charge of soulmates and making sure they meet. They have never met anyone as oblivious as Julie and Luke. 

Read on ao3

Warnings: none 

Word Count: 2.3k 

Masterlist

For my jatp secret valentine @vividblues262 I hope you enjoy this and you have a as good of a time reading it as I had writing it. thank you to @screwunsaidemily for organizing this! @jatpsecretvalentine​

The Universe is a powerful being. They create many great and beautiful things but the one they are revered most for, is soulmates. Each person is assigned someone who they are meant to be with. One just isn’t complete without their other half. 

According to everyone, you just know who your soulmate is. There is no specific experience. Some claim to see a string connect their wrists, others say it’s like seeing color for the first time, and others say it feels like your heart stops beating only for it to start again with the same beat as their person. 

Each soulmate meeting is unique, and the Universe admits, each pair is different. Some more stubborn than others to meet their person. So getting some people together is harder than others. 

But the Universe has never had a harder, more oblivious pair than Julie Molina and Luke Patterson. 

. . .

Julie Molina hasn’t met her soulmate but she doesn’t worry, she knows it will happen when the time is right. She traces the tattoo on her forearm, the black music notes that stand out against her white t-shirt, as she lets her mind drift on the topic.  

Julie doesn’t know what she’ll experience but she hopes it will be memorable. 

Lost in thought, she doesn’t hear the footsteps echoing down the hall and toward her room until the door slams open. 

Flynn stomps in, fingers plugging her ears and Carrie follows behind her, clearly annoyed at her girlfriend’s antics. 

“Damn it Flynn just listen to me!” Carrie exclaims. “Julie tell her to listen to me!” 

Julie simply stares at her two best friends, rolling her eyes and shrugging her shoulders. Flynn won’t listen to her and whatever Carrie did to get her to act childish is not her problem. 

“La la la la la,” Flynn chants, getting louder with each word. And Julie had promised herself a long time ago that she would not get involved in their fights. They’re soulmates and should know how to figure it out themselves, but Flynn hasn’t been in her room for two minutes and she’s already getting on her nerves. 

Julie stands with a sigh, walking over to Flynn and yanking her arms apart. “Flynn! Stop yelling,” she commands. Flynn immediately pouts and starts mumbling about Julie being unfair and taking sides. 

Julie ignores her best friend and turns to Carrie, who has already made herself comfortable on the beanbag next to her desk. “What’s going on?” Carrie starts explaining what happened between her and Flynn but Julie shakes her head to stop her. “No not that. I mean why are you here? I thought you guys were busy today.” 

Flynn pulls her arms from Julie’s grip and goes to sit next to Carrie, seemingly forgetting that they were arguing not five minutes ago. “We were busy, but then the museum got boring so we decided to come here to drag you out of your room. We’re getting coffee.” Flynn isn’t asking, and Julie has learned to recognize when she won’t win. So, she pushes her feet into a pair of sneakers, too lazy to untie and retie the shoe laces, and slips on a cardigan over her dress. 

Julie shouts a goodbye to her dad and linking her arms with her friends’, they all make their way to their favorite coffee shop a few streets away. It’s crowded, as it usually is on Saturday afternoons. The tables are filled with students typing away at their computers, attempting to finish essays at the last minute. The booths are filled with friends, gossiping and laughing together. Julie is dragged to the counter, where she orders her usual vanilla iced latte, smiling politely at the barista. 

Leaning against Carrie’s side, Julie looks around the shop as she waits for her drink. She finds herself looking at the corner booth, crowded with four boys discussing something she couldn’t quite hear. One of them is hunched over a notebook, lip between his teeth and pencil tight in his hands. Julie stares, intrigued by the brunette. He lifts his head, eyes closed and mumbles something under his breath. When he opens his eyes, they stare right at Julie and she feels her stomach twist with embarrassment. Before she can turn away and try to forget the interaction ever happened, he smiles at her and goes back to writing in his notebook. 

Julie’s stomach twists again, but with a completely different feeling. Flynn snaps her out of her daze by placing her iced latte in her hands. Julie thanks her and allows herself to be dragged outside, rolling her eyes when Flynn says that she wants a new jean jacket. Conversation distracts her as she walks away, not allowing her to dwell on the foreign feeling. 

The Universe frowns down at them. What just happened? They’ve been putting both of them in the same rooms for years and they never even acknowledged each other’s presence. And when they do, they ignore each other? Did they not feel it? The pull toward their soulmate? 

The Universe sighs, frustrated. They will have to work a little harder on this pair. 

. . .

A week later, Julie is at the mall with Flynn, helping her find a pair of sneakers to match the jacket she bought the week before. The store they’re in is small, with white walls and red accents. It’s inviting, so it’s no wonder this is the first one they visit. Julie makes a beeline for the benches, and tells Flynn where to find her when she is ready to model the shoes she’s chosen, if she finds any that ‘call to her.’ 

She scrolls through her phone, mindlessly liking posts on instagram, leaving a comment here and there and entering a couple of giveaways. A loud laugh makes her head snap up and her heart flutter. She doesn’t recognize the voice but there is a yearning within her that she doesn’t recognize. Twisting her head, trying to find the source of the beautiful noise she sees the guy from the coffee shop with an arm slung over his leather jacket clad friend.

His smile is blinding and Julie doesn’t want to look away, no matter how much she knows she should. He says something back to his friend that causes the dark haired male to push the brunette away. The push lands him in Julie’s way as he stumbles into the bench. 

On instinct, Julie grasps his arm in order to stop him from hitting the floor. Their eyes meet and Julie’s heart screams, but neither attempt to make a move, or even speak to each other. 

The Universe smiles. Finally. Nothing can get in between them now. They’re in front of each other. They’re touching. They have to know. But then. 

Flynn’s voice reverberates across the store as she says that nothing spoke to her. Willing herself to stand up, Julie averts her gaze and walks away, not understanding why her chest feels like it will burst open with every step she takes.

The Universe could scream. Just how hard will they have to try to get these two idiots together. They didn’t make a mistake. There is no such thing as soulmates who aren’t meant to be, whether they be platonic or romantic. No, these two are just too dense and oblivious for their own good. 

Time for plan C, the Universe decides.  

. . .

The club is packed. Sweaty bodies push against her and Julie crinkles her nose. She doesn’t normally frequent clubs, especially places as packed as this one, but Flynn and Carrie dragged her out tonight (as they do every weekend) because apparently this up and coming band is playing tonight and they are sure that she will love them. 

Julie doesn’t doubt that she will, there is hardly a genre of music that she doesn’t enjoy, but she much prefers to listen to them from the comfort of her room, or anywhere else that doesn’t require her to interact with drunk people who keep pushing her. 

She is not really listening to Flynn and Carrie’s conversation, only nodding whenever it seems appropriate. It isn’t long till the lights dim even more than before and a spotlight lights up the stage. Four guys jog up the steps and the crowd screams joyfully. 

They all get ready and as soon as the drummer counts them in, the song starts. The lead singer looks up and Julie stops breathing. He starts singing and her sight goes black. Suddenly, memories that she is sure aren’t hers start flashing before her. 

A young boy getting his first guitar. 

Him meeting his friends and making a pact with them.

The same boy, older now, writing his first song. 

The boy laying on his bed, fingers brushing against the tattoo on his forearm, identical to hers.

Starting a band with his best friends, his brothers. 

She sees him fight with his mom, loose a relationship so important to him.

She sees him breakdown as he pedals down the street.

He’s there at the mall, the record store, the ice cream parlor, the bowling alley. 

He’s always there. Moments she’s shared with the people in her life, he’s always there. So close but just out of reach. 

Then it’s him meeting her eyes at the coffee shop. Their moment at the shoe store. 

The pictures start flashing faster now and it’s harder for Julie to make out what they are but what is clear to her is that it’s her, growing old with the brunette. With Luke. 

His name is Luke, and he is her soulmate. 

And even though she has never heard their music before, she starts singing. The lyrics of the song written by Luke coming naturally to her. It’s the first time she’s sang in over a year and it feels like a breath of fresh air. 

Luke suddenly can’t hear anything. His bandmate’s instruments fade out and all he seems to be able to hear is an angel-like voice, coming from somewhere in the crowd. 

His eyes search for the source and once he locks eyes with the girl his vision goes black. 

He sees a girl, sitting next to her mother on a piano bench as she makes an attempt to play. 

Then he sees her again, sitting with another girl on the playground, and as all the other kids are playing, they’re performing a song. 

The girl is older now, playing the piano keys in a perfect melody. Her mom is still sitting next to her and she’s smiling down at her. 

She’s in the hospital, carrying her little brother for the first time.

The girl is sitting on the piano again, this time alone and there are tears streaming down her face. 

He sees her loose her mom and therefore her music. He sees her not even hum for over a year. 

Then he sees himself, walking past her, not noticing her. She’s everywhere. That time at the beach with Reggie, she was there, playing with her family. 

His walks down sunset boulevard with her only a few feet away. How could he not notice her? How could he possibly miss her when she shines brighter than anything in the world?

But he notices her now, and he will keep noticing her in the future, as images of her growing old with him and making music together flash before him. 

He comes back to reality to see her still looking at him, singing, and he realizes that he missed his cue, but he doesn’t care, because nothing matters more than the beautiful girl, Julie, who has taken his breath away. 

Julie, his soulmate. 

His tattoo stings and he winces, finally breaking eye contact with Julie to look down. The music notes are glowing and when he looks back up he notices Julie’s are too. 

The music continues and he wonders if everyone is witnessing the moment or if only him and Julie can see. His next verse is coming up and he knows he can’t miss another one so he leans forward to his mic and starts singing, not taking his eyes off of Julie. 

She stares right back, singing the lyrics loudly and passionately. The show continues much the same and if he were to ask anyone, they would say it is the damn best he has ever played. Once it’s over he runs off stage and out the back door, planning to make his way to the front of the bar. He runs down the alleyway and crashes hard into another body. 

Lifting his arms to steady the person, his heart stops. She’s there, standing in front of him, looking up through her lashes and he does the most drastic and impulsive thing he has ever done. 

He kisses her. He kisses her because he is so sure that he would die on the spot if he didn’t. And Julie kisses him back.

Luke cups the back of her neck as she tangles her fingers in his hair. After a couple of seconds, or maybe years, they pull away. 

“Hi,” he whispers. 

“Hi,” Julie responds. 

“I’m Luke,” his voice is much too breathy, and he is still attempting to get his lungs to work properly. 

“Julie,” she doesn’t sound much better. 

They both smile and then burst out laughing. 

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,” Luke admits once he has calmed down. 

Julie shakes her head. “I would say that we should get to know each other but I just saw your whole life played out, which by the way I have never heard of it happening.” 

Luke’s smile widens. “Well I have also never heard of soulmates meeting and not realizing they are soulmates so I think we’re just special.” 

“Yeah,” Julie says resting her head against his chest and listening to the beat of his heart matching hers. “I think we’re special too.” 

The Universe leans back, smiling down at the pair. They were a hard one, possibly the hardest they’ve ever had to do. But as they study them, already falling in love with each other without having to even say much, they know that it was worth it. The Universe wasn’t ready for Julie Molina and Luke Patterson, but they are now and the whole world better get ready. 

[thedevildomdaily]

Demonic Possessions Ch 9: Love Advice & Interior Design

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

I decided to make this chapter with more light banter and fun interactions and give the nephilim brothers some attention.

Warnings: Swearing, NSFW implied, light stuff this time ********************************

A couple weeks had passed. Construction on the attic was nearly complete. Lucifer and Azriel had negotiated a schedule in which the nephilim brothers would work on the attic bedroom for their sister. This helped avoid chaotic mornings, at least where the nephilim were concerned.

The overall mood of The House of Lamentation had shifted from the unease of having a new occupant amongst the Brothers and Lilly, to an odd sense of which the brothers had never experienced before. A shift in their dynamic as a family twisted due to a certain blossoming relationship.

Leviathan had become more outgoing and less reluctant in participating in events. He was more welcoming of everyone hanging around his room as well and his mood was less-likely to sour thanks to Lena. His brothers were happy for him, but it was an unusual experience for them as well. It was hard to ever find the two of them apart from each other.

“Thank you for doing my nails Asmo!” Lena chimed, “Your skills are amazing!”

Asmo grinned with brimming confidence, “Of course they are Leee-na. I’m an absolute master with nail art.”

“He’s also the best hair stylist.” Lilly chimed.

Asmodeus’s room had transformed into a spa for the two female residents and himself. The human was laying on his bed with a face mask and cucumbers over her eyes as her toe nails dried. Her hair was in a towel and she was completely relaxed as she sipped on her mimosa.

The nephilim had a peel on her face as she sat in a lavish chair while the demon painted a cute black cat on her accent nail. She too had her fill of mimosas as they relaxed from a week of cramming for a chapter test in alchemy. The math involved was exhausting, but she’d probably do well enough.

“Your brother is almost as bad as my old man when it comes to studying. I’m doing my best to be civil about it, but it’s getting on my nerves…”

Asmo gave a dramatic sigh, “If you think he’s bad now, wait until midterms. It’s a boot camp nightmare.” He then exchanged looks with Lilly as she peeked at them from her cucumber. He was underselling Lucifer’s regime.

“You know….” Asmo began with a sly voice, “I’m surprised Levi isn’t in here to get his nails painted…” Lena knew he was just baiting her at the mention of his brother. He wanted to open a dialogue to gossip about their relationship.

Shrugging, “I offered an invitation but Levi’s nails are still great from the last time you painted them. He’s also really engaged in a super hard game. The last time I saw him, Beel and Belphie were watching him battle a boss. It was getting intense in there…” It was also extremely cute, she thought.

“I’m just saying, given the fact that he’s the Avatar of Envy, I figured Levi to be a little more possessive and be following you around a lot more.” his younger brother admitted.

“Not gonna lie…” Lilly added, “I kinda anticipated that myself.” The brothers were all very possessive and it was easy to picture any one of them being like that. Well, Lucifer excluded. He was too damn cocky to believe anyone would stray from him ever.

Lena thought about it for a moment, ‘Well, I took your collective advice and talked directly with him when we went on that first date. I laid it all out for him: I’m not being held down to any single relationship. And in a kinder manner, that I basically don’t want to deal with jealousy. I’ve given up on monogamy….” he chuckled for a moment, “He actually compared me to you Asmo, and then asked if I wanted to start a reverse harem...and ya know what, I kinda like that idea haha!”

The other two blinked for a moment and joined in the laughter. “Pffft, that’s definitely a Levi-type of conclusion…” Lilly chuckled. She peeled the cucumbers off and ate them as she sat up. “It looks like you guys reached an amicable agreement then?”

The nephilim looked upward, clearly thinking about it for a moment. “We have. He agreed to an open relationship and to not be overly clingy with me. It’s beneficial to the both of u-”

“BOTH!?” Asmodeus interrupted, “Please explain!!?! Has my big, nerdy brother been hiding some secret affairs over these past few centuries?!” Why would it benefit the both of them, when only one of them has even been in multiple relationships?

“Oh, it’s quite simple really,” Lena chuckled, “His 2D waifus. I won’t ever complain about them or come between him and his fandom and I can have relationships with others as well. Besides, we’re immortal beings...forever is a realistic timeframe for us...why cling to each until we both become miserable? Monogamy hasn’t ever worked for any immortals I know...what about you?” Of course she was asking Asmo as he finished her last nail.

The demon shook his head as he released her hand and got his DDD ready to take pictures of his work for the gram. “Not that I’ve ever paid attention to it, I really can’t think of anyone...even angels drift apart and take loooooong breaks.”

“Well that’s a bit depressing….” Lilly mumbled.

“Oh, Lilly dear...don’t get depressed about it. It’s the beauty of humanity. You guys are far more capable of having a one, true love...not that you have to stick to it. It’s a valid option though.” She didn’t mean to depress the human. In her very long life, Lena had been in 100+ year relationships with various long-lived beings and it never seemed to work out. She was now trying this open relationship thing so that she didn’t feel tied-down or tired. She didn’t want anyone she was with to feel that way either.

“It’s all good. I was teasing for the most part.” Lilly smiled, “There’s only so many ways a person can spice things up and keep their relationship fresh; I’m sure an immortal couple could really struggle after a few centuries. It’s that case in my favorite vampire novel series anyways…”

Asmo didn’t comment on the matter. He couldn’t relate since he was loved by all and could charm anyone he wanted. He never for a moment considered a relationship because he could never love anyone more than himself.

“So, since you’ve found a way for things to work, have you guys……?” He smirked at the nephilim.

“ASMO!” Lily shouted. He merely chuckled.

“It’s none of your business…” Lena responded.

“That would be a solid ‘No’ then.” He quibbed. Lilly exchanged a look with him and nodded.

“Y’all are both horrible! It’s hard given he’s so reclusive and nervous. But also very cute….NO! I’m not talking with you guys about this, especially you Asmo. I’m not giving you any ammo to blackmail Levi…” She paused for a moment and contemplated, “I know he’s shy. But I also….”

“Also what?” Lilly blinked.

“I don’t know how to approach him. I’ve never been with a demon. Are you guys...very different for other beings?”

“Oh, you wanna see? Hmmmm?” Asmo teased. Or was he?

“Stop it!” Lilly smacked his shoulder lightly.

“Lena. You’re gonna have to make the first moves on Levi. Good news is there won’t be much effort you’d have to put into seducing him. It’s just finding the opportune moment when you’re feeling it.”

The girls both stared at Asmodeus for a moment.

“What? Is there something on my gorgeous face?” He immediately felt his pale, rosey cheeks.

“No, you’re just being surprisingly perceptive and giving profound advice on the matter.” Lilly said, “Lena should definitely wait until she feels right before taking the move. Like you said girl, you’ve got eternity. Take your time. Levi is a great guy and I know he’d never pressure you...”

Lena smiled and looked-up while thinking about him. “Yeah, he’s great. Special. I have so much fun with him. It’s nice to have someone interested in the same nerdy stuff as I am and not being picked-on about it 24/7.” Her last relationship went down like that. “When he blushes simply by me taking his hand, or how shocked he gets when I sneak behind him and wrap my arms around his waist...oooh... He’s too cute!!!!”

The nephilim squealed and shut her eyes hard thinking about her Levi-kun and the other two just laughed at her. Her responses to his cuteness just didn’t match her aesthetic at all and they found it hilarious to watch.

"Oh.." Lilly chimed in again, "They're 'normal' I guess."

Lena and Asmo blinked at the human for a moment.

"You asked if they were, ya know, compatible. I've had the horror of accidentally entering the men's bath when we went on a trip to a demonic hotspring before...I wanted to shove hot pokers in my eyes..." Lilly cringed.

"Oh, that's right! Lilly got to see me in all of my glory...jealous?" Asmo grinned.

The trio laughed and picked on each other all afternoon.

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

“Okay, we need a few more pieces of paneling. I want some nice filigree border work.” Azriel said to himself out loud as he took a step back to look at the progress made on his sister’s room.

Zak stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, as he watched his brother pace across the room. “Hey bro. It’s looking good. You really outdid yourself this time.” His siblings were super artsy, creative types. He couldn’t keep up with them on that. Instead, the middle sibling put any creativity into vehicle design and engineering. “Let’s take a break and go to Hell’s Kitchen for lunch. Then when we get back, you can spot anything else we need to do….”

“You do have a point. Let’s eat and come back with a new perspective…”

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

The nephilim brothers went for lunch, meeting up with Beelzabub and Belphegor. The twins were in the back corner, where the owner often put them so they weren’t a distraction for the other customers.

Belphegor had his arms folded on the table, propping his head up as he watched Beel chow down on ten burgers.

“Hey guys, can we join you?” Zak asked when he approached the demons.

“Sh--rr” Beel nodded as he wadded another large bite of food. Zak could have sworn the demon’s jaw had unhinged to take such a huge bite.

Azriel took a seat next to Beel. The two of them were the same height, though Azriel was much thinner, with more of a swimmer’s body then a body-builder’s. Zak sat by a groggy Belphie. They too, were the same height but different build. Zak liked to work out when he wasn’t working on a new engine.

“You guys about to finish remodeling?” Belphie asked with a yawn at the end, “I’m curious what you’ve done to my old...space.” Was it a bedroom or a prison? He didn’t know quite how to label the attic Lucifer kept him in.

Azri gave a pleasant smile, “Yes. It’s all coming along smoothly. Lena will be thrilled with it. It’s a touch of old european with her beloved gothic asethetic. She might not like the light-colored flooring, but it makes the space look bigger…” he went off into deep thought for a moment. Then, he saw some green in the corner of his eye and smiled, “excuse me for a moment…”

“Sorry, I swear Azri has ADHD or something...don’t mind him. ‘Creative Genius’ at work 24/7” Zak chuckled and looked at the menu.

“S’okay.” Belphie nodded and closed his eyes for a moment. “Sounds like you’ve had a lot of things to do. It’s nice putting in that effort for your little sibling.”

The twins and Zaksalamel chatted and ate their lunch, nearly forgetting that the elder nephilim had even came to Hell’s Kitchen. When he finally returned, there was an empty plate left at his spot.

“You shouldn’t have ordered and left when sitting by Beel…” Belphegor responded after seeing the shocked expression on Azri’s face. “Your food didn’t stand a chance...and apparently the napkin…”

“S-sorry….” Beel scratched the back of his head.

After a moment of silence, Azriel sighed, “it’s okay. That one was definitely on me….”

Zak noticed his brother’s cheeks get a little rosy. His mind was elsewhere clearly. What was he up to. “Hey, Devildom to Azriel...where’d you disappear to?”

“Oh, forgive my rudeness..again.” He suddenly returned to the conversation. “I just happened to see someone I know and asked for their opinion about the flooring choice…”

“Mmmh-hmmm…” Zak’s eyes narrowed at his brother, knowing there was something else to it. Azriel’s voice tone was suspicious. He’d leave it alone for now.

“So, anyways, I made the right decision, and I think we will be finished with everything in 2 days.” Azri clapped his hands together, chipper with the apparent results of the consultation he’d just had. “Beel, if you’d like to make it up to me for eating my highly-anticipated lunch, could you help carry furniture upstairs? You must be very careful…Lena is going to flip out when she sees it!”

As the four of them returned to the House of Lamentation together, Beel and Belphie walked some space behind the nephilim.

“They sure seem to care a lot about their sister to spend so much time on this room. I don’t think it was that bad..” Belphegor said quietly.

‘True. But, we’d do the same thing for our sister too. And that means Lilly as well…” Beelzebub nodded.

Agreeing, Belphegor let out a small sigh. He wasn’t sure about his own opinion of Lena so far. They didn’t start off on the best of terms. No, he’d admit that he behaved like a brat that day. But he never had the opportunity to get to know her or to apologize for his overreaction. Maybe he’d help with the furniture too?

[jadoue1999]

The X-Men and the member they lost - Chapter 9

Summary: Erik and Wanda have a little talk

Previous parts: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Interrupted

After Erik left his son’s room, he decided to walk back to where he had been before. Charles was still in the library, reading the same book. He glanced up as he saw him enter.

“How did it go?”

“Wanda tried a spell and it backfired. Neither of them told me what it was but they both seemed shaken.” He sighed as he sat down on the sofa in front of his friend. “I just wish Peter would talk to me, it’s clear he’s not coping well.”

The bald man nodded. “You’re right, I might not be able to see in his mind, but what he felt just now was bone chilling terror. Unlike anything I’ve ever felt from him.”

That was worrisome. If the telepath hadn’t sensed anything similar to what happened just now in the whole year Peter had been in the mansion, that meant that whatever he saw must have been horrible. Especially considering how close he had been to die when En Sabah Nur broke his leg and almost killed him. There was no doubt that he must have quite the nightmares after that experience.

“Charles, I can’t help, but think that Peter really has changed.”

The man frowned at him. “What do you mean, old friend?”

He sighed as he looked pensively at the floor, trying to sort his thoughts. “I know that he’s physically fine, but he’s been acting different ever since we saved him from that place.”

“I understand, he hasn’t been as reckless since he came back. It seems his experience made him mature.” The telepath pressed his lips together. “But I’m not the person you should tell that.”

Erik nodded, “yes, but every time I try to talk to him, he pushes me away. He denies every nightmare and every sudden memory flash. Peter doesn’t seem to trust me.”

Charles watched him for a few seconds, probably wondering if he should say whatever he was thinking. He cleared his throat. “Well, there’s always someone else you can talk to.”

“No.”

The wheelchair bound man put a hand on his and gave him a serious soul piercing stare. “Erik, she is the one that started everything in the first place, she has answers no one else knows. You have to talk to Wanda.”

The telepath didn’t give him time to protest, he simply left the room. Erik was speechless for a few seconds before he started thinking about what Charles had said. He was, as usual, right, but he didn’t feel ready yet to talk to the woman. Especially since what had just happened in Peter’s room. Erik sighed as he contemplated the flames in the fireplace; he knew what had to be done, but he didn’t want to do it. Not tonight at least, not after the confession he just told them.

...

It had been about five days since he had made the decision to eventually talk to Wanda. Erik felt ready, he had to confront her. He waited until everyone was in bed before knocking on the woman’s door. She opened it and her eyes widened in confusion as she took him in.

“Hi?” She said, hesitantly. “Can I help? Is it Peter?”

Erik shook his head. “No, I’m here to have a conversation that is long overdue.”

The redhead nodded in understanding and opened her door all the way, letting him in. The room wasn’t all that personalized, but he did spot a picture of her, Vision, Peter, and the twins smiling at the camera. It was on the table next to her bed. He figured she had conjured it as a way to remember them. She sat down on her bed as he pulled out her desk chair. Her body language screamed anxiety as she kept pressing her lips together and readjusting her position. Finally, she spoke up.

“Erik, I know I haven’t said it before, but I’m so sorry for what I did. To you, to your team and Peter. It was wrong and I should’ve controlled my grief better.”

The man gave her a small nod, “thank you, it truly wasn’t a fun experience. As for your grief, I did mean it when I said we were similar. I hunted down the man who used me as his lab rat for years, killing every Nazis I could find, and I allied myself with a powerful mutant that wanted to destroy the world when my wife and daughter died. I’m afraid I know all too well why you reacted that way; even if I don’t agree with what you did.”

After he was done, neither of them talked for about a minute. Both probably trying to figure out what to say next. Erik spoke first.

“Did you feel bad, at least?” He paused, letting the question hang in the air. “Putting my son back under mind control? Living with the fact that you were lying to yourself?”

He could see how Wanda tensed up, but he didn’t care, he wanted to know. The redhead slowly nodded. “Yes, I did,” she fiddled with her bedcover, not looking at him. “I had many intrusive thoughts that kept reminding me of what I did. But I was so distressed about losing my brot-“ she quickly glanced at him, “-Peter, that I ignored them.”

He sighed at how she cut herself off, “Wanda, it’s alright if you consider yourself siblings. You are, in a way. I saw the bond you two shared when you went trick or treating. And I’m glad you were aware that your actions were wrong and that you freed him in the end.”

The woman squeezed her eyes and her features twisted in guilt. “Yes, but I wanted to keep him,” she sobbed. “Even as I removed the necklace, I had to keep myself from putting it back on.” The redhead was now crying, tears quickly running down her cheeks. “I’m glad to be here, but it’s a struggle to not want to put things back the way they were. I miss my family.”

Erik acted without thinking and took the woman in a hug, surprising them both. He wasn’t sure what came over him, but it seemed to help her as she sobbed on his shoulder. A question popped into his mind, it was a stupid and hurtful one, but he had to ask.

“If you could have your brother back, would you choose him over my son?”

Wanda’s breath hitched as she heard him, she removed herself from his arms and looked at him with puffy eyes. “I- yes, but I cannot see a future without Peter at my side. I would probably try to have them both.” She chuckled sadly, “we could be the Maximoff triplets.”

He smirked at her suggestion; one speedster was already a lot. Not sure the world could handle two. Wanda suddenly stiffened and stilled for a few seconds. Her eyes were unfocused, something Charles usually did when someone was contacting him mentally. She finally moved again and turned to him.

“We have to go, something’s wrong with Peter.”

He didn’t protest and followed her as she passed through the halls. She was going as fast as she could without waking up anyone.

They could hear some noise coming from the speedster’s room. When they opened the door, they were greeted with a messy bed and a silver blur that kept going around the room. Everything that was on his path met an unfortunate end as his superspeed literally tore through it. Wanda entered the room first, unsure of what to do, but wanting to help in any way. Peter stopped in his track as he started looking around wildly. His eyes were filled with fear and panic. It was clear he was experiencing a nightmare and some sort of sleep walking.

“Peter,” called out the redhead, “what’s going on?”

The speedster swiftly turned his head towards her.

“Trebuie să ne ascundem!”

Erik froze as Peter suddenly took Wanda’s hand and brought them both under his bed. He was certain his son didn’t speak Romanian, even in sleep he still had an accent. Still there he was, telling the redhead they had to hide.

His eyes were locked unto an unseen something that was a few feet away, almost in his face. His face was twisted in fear as he kept holding Wanda’s hand; either in a way of comfort or to keep her with him he wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was both. Erik called out his son’s name, trying to make him realize it was only a dream. Only, he didn’t react and kept flinching every few seconds as whatever he was hearing. Wanda squeezed his hand, but he kept his eyes on the spot in front of them.

“Peter,” she said. He didn’t react to his name. Wanda seemed to realize something as she frowned in worry. “Pietro.” The speedster turned to her. “It’s alright, frate, it’s only a nightmare.”

Her voice was thick with her accent, something that he hadn’t seen her use before. Erik watched as the pair talked, both of them trying to reason with the other. Both in Romanian. Wanda finally brought a hand to Peter’s head and a flick of red filled his eyes. He seemed to suddenly relax, and he fell back asleep, still under the bed. The woman slowly removed herself from his side and shared a worried look with Erik.

“I can’t wake him up suddenly, his mind is too fast, it could hurt him.” She motioned him closer, intending to have him help her get Peter back to his bed. “He’ll wake up naturally in a few minutes.”

They slowly pulled him out and laid him down. His face was relaxed, there was no hint of the panic he had felt just a moment ago. Erik watched him sleep for a few seconds before turning to the woman.

“What happened?”

Wanda’s hand was brushing Peter’s face in a soothing motion. “That... wasn’t just a nightmare.” She looked at him, “that was one of Pietro’s memories.”

Erik turned to her with accusation in his eyes. “You have to remove them! Why does he still have them in the first place?”

She froze at his sudden anger, her eyes flickered between him and his son. “He- Peter didn’t want another person messing with his mind, I respected his wishes,” snapped Wanda. She breathed in, “I’ll see what I can do, but he has to be awake.”

As if on cue, the speedster groaned, complaining about the noise. Erik smirked as he muttered something about them yelling someplace else than his room. The particularity of the situation must have settled in his brain because he suddenly opened his eyes and looked at them in confusion. “Uh... hi? Any reason why you decided to settle your differences in my bedroom instead of, I don’t know... the danger room?”

Erik felt relief at the fact that it really was Peter, at least he didn’t wake up thinking he was Pietro. Wanda approached him with caution and took his hands.

“You had a nightmare.”

He suddenly tensed up and lowered his gaze. “Ah... you heard that.”

Peter wasn’t asking, that was a statement. Erik wasn’t sure how to react, it was obvious by what he had just said that his son had been having more nightmares than he let on. He doubted that singing to him like he did to Nina when she had a bad dream would do much. Especially since they weren’t just nightmares, they were actual memories of his alternate dead self.

“How long have you had them? Why wasn’t I aware?” Questioned Wanda, understandably shaken by the situation.

“Like I’ve explained before,” started Peter, “people don’t just get into my mind. And I suppose you’re usually asleep when it happens.”

In true Peter fashion, he was trying to shrug it off as nothing. But they wouldn’t let it slide, after what Erik had seen from the many files at SWORD, their lives had been riddled with war and trauma. But what they had just witnessed, he wasn’t exactly sure what it was. He turned to the woman.

“Show me,” Wanda looked at him confusedly. “What he saw, I want to understand.”

Peter suddenly straightened up in his bed. “Dad, I really don’t think-“

“I’m doing it,” he interrupted. He shared a look with Wanda, who gave him a quick nod. A red light glowed from her fingertips and she brought them to his temple.

Erik was immediately seized by a strong explosion. He turned to see two children on the ground, laying amongst the rubble. The little girl was pushing herself up in disbelief as she took in the destroyed building that surrounded them. While they both had dark brown hair, it was obvious they were Wanda and Pietro. There was a strong burnt smell in the air mixed with the metallic smell of blood. The girl was calling out to their parents as the ashes fell in her hair. She went to take a step, but her brother stopped her. He grabbed her hand and ran under the skeletal remain of the bed. The children were arguing about having to leave, but they were interrupted when a second bomb landed right in front of them. Erik gasped as he realized what Peter had been staring at when he himself was hiding under the bed. There was a beeping every few seconds. Erik watched as everything sped up, showing the children slowly starve and flinch at every noise that was heard. They were finally rescued, but it was obvious they were not alright. They clung to each other like their lives depended on it. The vision faded and Erik was back to Peter’s room. The pair was looking at him worryingly, waiting for the man to talk.

He first looked at Wanda, “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he apologized. He then turned to his son, “this is what you saw?”

The speedster nodded, “yes, that was tonight’s nightmare.”

Erik raised an eyebrow at him, “tonight?”

Peter flinched; it was obvious he didn’t mean to share so much. Why was his son so keen on keeping everything to himself? The speedster shared a look with Wanda, “I have Pietro’s entire life stored in my head.” He cleared his throat. “It was simple in Westview, I only had them. Ever since I’m back to myself, it’s a constant fight between my life and his.”

Wanda covered her mouth in horror. “I’m so sorry,” her eyes were wide in shock. She sat next to him, “please let me help.”

She brought up a hand to his head. He seemed to want to push her away, but ultimately let her continue. Her fingertips glowed red once again and Peter took a deep breath and closed his eyes as the red swirled around his head. Erik watched as both the adults seemed to sync in their little tics and twitches. Both jerking their heads and frowning at nearly the same time. Wanda was the first one to open her eyes and she met his gaze with an apologizing look. Peter’s eyes finally opened, though he seemed slightly dizzy.

“Did it work?” He knew it was stupid to ask, the redhead was obviously trying to hint at him that it hadn’t worked. But then again, he had been clueless to his true lineage with Peter. Which was really obvious when you thought about it seriously for a few minutes.

The woman shook her head. “I don’t understand it, the memories are mixed together. I can’t remove anything without a high risk of erasing some of his real memories.”

“So…” spoke up Peter. “I’m stuck with them forever?”

“I’m afraid so,” apologized Wanda.

Erik took a few steps forward, considering the consequences of his son’s situation. He hadn’t met anyone with a double set of memories. Even less of someone with those of their alternate dead self. The closest he had as a reference was Charles. With the number of minds, he sometimes accidently and purposely read, he was a little similar to what Peter was going through. He did remember the telepath complaining about nightmares and having trouble sleeping occasionally, but he seemed to be doing better recently. Perhaps the man could teach Peter some tricks? But there was one thing that was still on his mind.

“How will this affect him?” Both of them turned to him. “What if his nightmares get the best of him and he eventually doesn’t know which memories and his and Pietro’s? What if your brother’s memories eventually replace his actual memories?”

“You don’t have to worry about me, dad,” reassured Peter. “I know which memories are mine. There’s significantly less war and trauma in my life.”

Wanda waved a hand into the air and a notebook appeared out of nowhere. She had a worried frown on her face as she handed it to him. “Please try to fill in as much as you can. I’ll be able to know which are which.”

The speedster’s expression showed how he didn’t think it was necessary, but he took the notebook, nonetheless. He put it on the desk next to his bed and looked around for a few awkward seconds before speaking up.

“So, I know you guys are badass and powerful and probably don’t need that much sleep because of some freaky mutation, but I do. Not that much, but the twenty minutes I got before you barged in, are definitely not enough.”

Wanda smiled in amusement and gave him a quick hug before leaving the room. Erik walked over to his son who was slowly settling back into his bed. He pulled the cover over him, Peter didn’t protest, either because he didn’t mind, or he was too tired to care.

“I can’t believe it’s my first time tucking you in,” Erik joked.

The speedster chuckled before mumbling something and burying his head in his pillow. The metal wielder smirked as he heard the man lightly snore, already asleep. He brushed a hand in his silver hair before walking out the room and closing the door behind him. He mentally called out to Charles, hoping the man wasn’t asleep yet.

“I’m in my office,” came his friend’s voice.

Erik quickly headed towards the telepath’s position. He made an effort to try to open the door silently, but that door obviously didn’t care that people were sleeping. Then again, seeing how the telepath perked up his head to greet him, it might have been on purpose.

“You talked to Wanda?”

Right, his discussion with Wanda. That felt so far away now. “I did, but we have another problem.”

“Oh?”

“Peter and Pietro’s memories have mixed together. Wanda heard his distress and we found him reliving one of his alternate self’s traumatic event.” He looked at the man, who was intensely staring at him. His eyes were filled with concern as he listened. “I fear he might eventually lose himself if he doesn’t learn to control them.”

Charles nodded, “I’ll try to give him some tricks, but we have to keep in mind that my telepathy and his experience are barely the same thing.” The man looked up to see the worry in his eyes, he cleared his throat. “Still, it’s similar enough. I promise you, Erik, Peter will be just fine.”

With that, the man declared it was time for him to go to sleep. He closed the files he had on his desk and exited the room. Erik sighed as he repeated what the telepath had told him.

“Just fine…” he whispered. “Let’s hope you’re right, Charles.”

***

Notes: next chapter: Peter and Charles try to find a solution

[be11atrixthestrange]

Waking Up In Vegas: Chapter 4

After a night of debauchery, Ron and Hermione wake up in Vegas... married.

Muggle!AU. Romcom!Romione. Slow burning, smutty, angst-fest.

Rated M for reasons.

Ao3 | FFN

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More Chapters

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Chapter 4

[Hermione]

Hermione breathes a sigh of relief when she enters her hotel room, and the door shuts behind her. She pulls off the Chudley Cannons t-shirt and boxers, throwing them into a pile on the floor by her suitcase, before making her way to the bathroom for a shower.

Her suite's bathroom is an assault of color, too happy and cheerful to match her sullen mood. The tiles form an elaborate design which Hermione guesses is supposed to be a mermaid, but who knows, really. She stopped trying to identify any cohesive theme to the hotel's elaborate decor the moment she arrived.

As she scrubs herself clean, she can't help but wonder about last night. Did they really have sex? If they had, it would be a first for her. She's had sex before, of course, but only within the boundaries of a committed relationship. Never a one-night-stand, if that's what that was.

The idea that she and Ron Weasley might have shagged last night doesn't bother her in the way she'd expect — in fact, there's a small, but very present part of her that hopes they did. Hermione's only slept with one other man before, and her anxiety surfaces every time she imagines having sex with someone else — someone who might see her differently than her ex-boyfriend Viktor. She often wonders if there's anyone else out there that finds her attractive enough, and hates to admit that insecurity led her to stay with Viktor much longer than she really should have. It's that same fear that makes the thought of taking her clothes off in front of another man so daunting. She's often tempted to numb her worries with alcohol, and get it over with. Maybe last night she did.

Hermione glances down at her body and tries to keep her insecurities at bay, but she can't. She's never been one to concern herself with cosmetic endeavors, not like Lavender, who is always talking about tanning lotion and bikini waxes. She wonders what parts of her Ron had seen and touched, and oddly, she's desperate to know if he liked it.

She's imagined sleeping with Ron before. Not intentionally, of course. It's just a passing thought that occurs with any single, attractive, age-appropriate man, but for some reason, it happens more frequently with Ron. Neville, Dean, and Seamus, Harry's other groomsmen, are all just as attractive, but she isn't nearly as curious to know what it would be like to shag them. Maybe it's the way that Ron bickers with her and irritates her — there's something so focused about it. It's like he knows exactly how to push her buttons. Her need to learn more about him in bed must be purely academic — if he can drive her mind crazy, what might he be able to do to her body?

It's tempting to reprimand herself like she might a friend after a one-night-stand, but she doesn't feel guilty. If there's any reason to be angry with herself, it's not because she slept with Ron; it's because she can't remember it, and she really, really, wants to. For science, of course.

Unable to avoid the day any longer, she turns the shower off and reaches for her towel to dry herself. Any guilt she feels is mostly about ditching Ginny last night. This week is for Ginny, and as her maid of honor, Hermione has a duty not to abandon her to rendezvous with her brother.

She wraps her towel tightly around her body and heads back into the bedroom. The bathroom's aggressive color scheme continues into the rest of the suite, but the mermaid tiles are now replaced with lime-green area rugs, lava lamps, and an ombre accent wall that fades from white to teal. The whole ordeal feels both retro and modern, like she's entering both the past and future at the same time. While rummaging in her suitcase, she finds her phone, blinking with dozens of missed messages from Ginny. Scrolling through the messages tells her that Ginny was really worried about her last night.

Where did you go?

Are you ok?

Are you with someone?

Please text me back, I'm worried!

The phone buzzes and startles Hermione. She glances down to see Ginny's name again, this time accompanied by a new message.

Don't forget about brunch! You owe me a mimosa and an explanation! 11 am :)

Okay, Ginny doesn't sound too angry. Hermione checks the clock and groans. 10:55 am.

She extracts a clean change of clothes from her bag, which happens to be a periwinkle sundress that Ginny convinced her to buy for the trip. It's a little shorter and more revealing than Hermione would typically choose, but seeing her in it might make Ginny feel more sympathetic. Plus, if she shows up looking perfectly put-together, she might have a chance at convincing the girls that she did not get blackout drunk and shag Ron Weasley last night. Still, she imagines showing up to brunch in Ron's boxers and Chudley Cannons t-shirt, and the picture brings a smile to her lips. Of course, she'd never do that, but the look on Lavender's face might be worth it.

Hermione sends Ginny a quick text to tell her she's on her way and pulls the sundress over her head. She then stations herself in front of the bathroom mirror to work on both her hair and an alibi.

x

One step into the god-knows-what-themed restaurant gives Hermione an instant headache. The music, the conversation, and the smell of breakfast food and alcohol instantly remind her of her hangover. She passes the giant, decorative goblet in the middle of the room and spots Ginny's red hair, standing out against the forest-green wall paint behind her. Ginny sees her too, and waves her down.

"Hermione Jean Granger!" says Ginny as soon as Hermione sits down at the creaky bamboo chair across from her. Also at the table are Luna, Demelza, and Lavender, who eyes Hermione's dress suspiciously. "Dish!"

Ginny's already halfway through her first mimosa and is smiling brightly. Hermione instantly relaxes at her demeanor, her guilt melting away. "Dish? About what?"

"Where you ran off to last night, of course!"

"Ginny thinks you shagged someone, but I think you just went back to bed," says Lavender, and Hermione is briefly tempted to wipe the smug smile off her face with the truth, but she resists.

"What does everyone else think?" asks Hermione. Maybe they'll come up with a better alibi than she has.

"We took bets. I think you ran off and shagged a stranger, because I know there's a rebel in there somewhere," says Ginny, waving a lazy finger toward her face. "Lavender thinks you just went to bed early like a party-pooper. Luna thinks you got lost. And Demelza thinks you disappeared with Ron."

"What?" says Hermione, glancing curiously at Demelza, "Ron?"

"Yeah," shrugs Demelza. "It would make sense."

"Would it?"

"Not like that," chuckles Lavender, rolling her eyes. "It would make sense because he's the best man. Demelza thinks you two are planning something for Ginny and Harry, and that's why you two disappeared. We can't figure out where he went either, but Harry's working on finding out," she adds bitterly.

"Oh," says Hermione, breathing a sigh of relief. "I thought you meant—"

"We didn't," laughs Demelza.

"Definitely not," says Lavender cooly. "You're not his type, anyway."

Hermione turns away from Lavender, ignoring the prickle of insecurity ignited by her comment. "Well, not to let you all down, but I had too much to drink last night, so I just went back to my hotel room early. I meant to send a text, but I passed out pretty quickly."

"Knew it," says Lavender.

"As for Ron," she adds, turning back to face Lavender, "I did run into him. He was with a girl, but I don't know who she was. Super pretty, though." Hermione can't help but enjoy the flash of jealousy on Lavender's face.

Lavender meets her eyes with a scowl before dropping her gaze to Hermione's exposed legs. "Nice dress. Who's it for?"

"Sorry? Who's it for?"

"Your dress is awfully short," she adds matter-of-factly, taking a strategic sip of her mimosa.

"Oh, well," Hermione shrugs. "It's warm out."

"Well, you look very attractive. Almost like you're trying to impress someone." Lavender's cheery tone juxtaposes her icy stare. If only there was a prize for backhanded compliments, Lavender could finally consider herself a winner.

"I just like this dress," says Hermione through gritted teeth. "Who would I be trying to impress?" The table has gone awkwardly quiet, the air suddenly thick with tension.

Lavender shrugs. "Nobody. Wouldn't be worth your time," she says, bringing her mimosa back to her dolled-up lips.

Hermione rolls her eyes. Lavender doesn't seem to like Hermione, and Hermione cannot figure out why. It might have something to do with how often she and Ron talk to one another. Lavender has a habit of inserting herself into their little arguments and trying to redirect Ron's attention as if she's trying to save him from Hermione's incessant pestering. Maybe she means well, but Hermione finds it condescending.

They only ever talk about wedding logistics — It's not like they flirt. As far as Hermione knows, Lavender has nothing to be jealous of. Either way, Hermione doesn't have time to mull it over because Luna breaks the tension. "Are you sure you didn't get lost?"

"Sorry, what?" asks Hermione, having already forgotten the previous conversation.

"Last night," clarifies Luna. "You weren't lost?"

Oh. "No Luna, I wasn't lost. Why?"

Luna shrugs. "I just checked your room before I went to bed. You weren't there."

Hermione feels Lavender's piercing stare once more and tries to send a quieting glance to Luna, but Luna remains oblivious. "Are you sure you didn't get lost?" Hermione retorts. All the girls, except for Lavender, laugh.

Luna smiles wistfully. "Maybe I had the wrong room."

"Probably," says Hermione firmly, then in an attempt to change the subject, "Another round of mimosas?"

Ginny's beams. "Sure! But this round's on you!"

"Sounds good," says Hermione, rising to her feet. "I'll be right back."

It's probably in her best interest to keep the drinks flowing.

x

Hermione is waiting at the bar for another round of mimosas, tracing the playing cards ingrained into the counter with her finger, and mulling over her conversation with the girls. Something feels very off with Lavender, and she wonders if she suspects anything. Hermione glances down at her dress; it is awfully short. She tugs self-consciously at the hem. Lavender doesn't think she's wearing this dress to impress Ron, does she?

Sure, she wore this dress the day they arrived in Vegas, and at one point, she noticed Ron's gaze drifting from her face to her chest then to her thigh. Normally, she'd react by calling a man out on that, but with Ron, she said nothing. It was such a fleeting glance, probably because Lavender was watching, and he might not have wanted to offend her. But she also liked it. Something about his eyes on her body made her feel sexy, and it's been a while since she's felt that way. The memory of Ron's wandering eyes and how they made her feel might have been part of her motivation to wear the dress this morning. A small part, but a contributing factor nonetheless. Maybe Lavender can sense that. She seems to detect any possible interest in Ron like a bloodhound, and clearly, she still thinks Ron is her man.

A sudden voice startles her out of her reverie.

"Hey! Good to see you again!"

Hermione turns to see a woman about her age. She doesn't recognize her at all. "Hey," she says tentatively.

The woman is wearing a green jumpsuit that almost camouflages her into the restaurant's decor. Her bright pink manicure reminds Hermione of claws, and her large gold spectacles magnify her eyes, giving her the appearance of an insect. She looks like she's intentionally trying to dress as an animal, but hasn't decided which one.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

Did Hermione meet this woman last night? "I'm okay. Doing better," she adds, hoping her tone is neutral enough to be non-committal.

"Okay, that's good to hear! We had so much fun last night, by the way!"

Hermione is more confused than ever, but she feels like her opportunity to admit that has passed. "Thank you," she says instead. "I… did too. I think."

The woman laughs, an almost-maniacal cackling sound that makes Hermione shudder. "Honestly, I'm so honored that you included me. I know we just met last night, but I already feel like I've known you two forever!"

Okay, what the hell is happening?

"Oh, of course, I feel that way too!" she lies. Hermione needs to find a way to end this conversation.

"I'm glad I found you! I tried to send you this photo, but I realized this morning that I didn't have your number." She pulls her phone out of her pocket and scrolls through her camera roll. Hermione curiously looks over her shoulder, hoping that maybe this photo will spark her memory of last night. "Here it is!"

The woman shoves the phone into Hermione's face, and Hermione's jaw drops.

"I know! It's so cute, isn't it?"

It feels like her heart has stopped. She's looking at a photo of Ron holding her up, one hand is under her knees, and the other supporting her back. Hermione's arms are laced around Ron's neck, and their lips are pressed together in a passionate kiss. Above them is a sign that reads Just Married.

"That's definitely one you should get framed!" says the woman excitedly.

Hermione tries to steady her breath, but she feels about to panic. This has to be some sort of joke. "Yes, thank you," she says in the giddiest tone she can manage.

"Go ahead, send it to yourself!" says the woman.

"Right, right," says Hermione. A few clicks of the keypad later, Hemione feels her phone buzz again in her pocket. She hands the phone back to the woman.

"And now I have your number,'' she says! "We should definitely celebrate again. I will text you!"

"Yeah," says Hermione mechanically, although she knows it won't happen. "Of course."

"Congratulations again!" The woman hugs Hermione before sauntering away.

As soon as she disappears into the crowd, Hermione pulls out her phone to examine the photo. She recalls how horrified Ron was to wake up next to her and has no idea how she'll be able to have this conversation. She's tempted just to delete the photo, but she knows that won't make it go away.

Then, something jumps out at her. On the wall below the words Just Married are the words Follow your heart's desire! They're small and easy to miss, but it sounds like bad branding.

She switches her screen to search those words. A single click pulls up a website.

Erised Elopements

Follow your heart's desire!

Maybe there is a way to make it all go away.

She saves the address into her phone, right as the bartender pulls up with five mimosas. "Sorry about the wait!"

"No problem," says Hermione distractedly, pocketing her phone. She smiles and pays for the drinks before heading back to a restless table of girls.

"What took you so long?" asked Ginny.

Hermione shrugged, setting the drinks down on the table. "Busy, I guess."

"Are you ok, Hermione?" asks Luna.

"Yes, why?"

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine." Ginny looks at her with concern, and Hermione waves her off. "I'm great."

"Are you sure you haven't seen a ghost? This hotel is haunted, you know."

"No, Luna, I haven't seen a ghost." Just accidentally got married.

"Okay," says Ginny. "If you're feeling ill, just let us know. You can go back to your room and rest…"

"Actually, that might be a good idea," says Hermione quickly. "Are you sure you won't mind?"

"No, of course not," says Ginny, although Hermione can sense the disappointment in her voice.

"Sorry. I'll be ready to rally tonight, I promise." Hermione snags her purse and slings it over her shoulder. She slides her untouched mimosa across the table to Ginny. "An extra for you."

Ginny perks up and takes a sip. "Feel better, Hermione!"

"Thank you," says Hermione as she waves goodbye and turns to leave the hotel restaurant, still aware of Lavender's eyes on the hem of her dress. At first, she heads in the direction of her room. Then, checking over her shoulder to make sure the girls aren't watching, she pulls out her phone and searches the address from the website. She'll be able to fix this; she's sure of it.

[yesiamplease]

After the Dentist

Words: 1,698

Summary: Verin is the poor unfortunate soul that has to take Essek back home after a trip to the dentist that involved anesthesia. Essek can't stop thinking about the Mighty Nein.

“Forgive me, but considering I would have to travel to get there and leave my station, I don’t fully see why I should have to take care of him.“

“Because there’s no one else who will, and I’m telling you to do it.“

Verin knew that tone all too well, “Yes, mother.”

“All you have to do is get him back to his home and make sure he gets inside without incident. It will take less than an hour.“

"Yes, mother."

“He’ll be coming off of anesthesia, so make sure he doesn’t say anything he shouldn’t around others. And I trust you’ll be sure to tell me if he says anything that I should know.“

"Yes, mother."

Essek looked around groggily as a nurse led him to the waiting room. Verin came in a few minutes later, “How did it go?”

Essek was lost in thought, trying to figure out how the fish could fly and why they only stayed in one area of the room when there were so many other spots around them to explore. Verin nudged him, getting his attention. A muffled, “Huh?” was all that came out. 

“I guess you really are out of it,“ Verin grabbed his arm and started leading Essek out, “Come on, let’s get you into the carriage.“ 

"Stars!"

"Yes, just like all the time."

Essek fell asleep almost as soon as he sat down, much to Verin’s relief. ‘All I have to do is make sure he gets inside. That should be easy enough, assuming he doesn’t float away.’ Essek whined as he was woken up once they’d gotten outside of his towers. Verin grabbed him by the arm again and started leading him to the door, “I know, I know. You’ll be in bed soon enough.” 

Essek felt himself being pulled along. It was familiar. His mind flashed back to the party, him suddenly paralyzed and Jester pulling him out of the room. All the other things from that night came flooding back to him in that moment, their disappointment, their anger, the undeserved reassurance, their demeanor towards him the last time they spoke and how long it’s been since then. “It’s been so long...”

“Huh?“ Verin turned to look at Essek, shocked to see his older brother starting to breath unsteady with tears welling in his eyes.

“It’s been really long,“ Essek didn’t even realize he was crying, “I don’t know if something is wrong.“

“I-I, uh,“ Verin quickly looked around to make sure no one was watching, “let’s get you inside, okay?“ He quickly pulled Essek in and shut the door.

Essek looked around his sitting room, the room he had them over for breakfast in. He tried really hard to give them a nice breakfast. He tried so hard. They liked him back then. He didn’t deserve for them to like him. He didn’t deserve to have them as his friends, and now they know that, too. They still haven’t contacted him. They hate him.

“Okay, none of the doors open, I should’ve expected that.“ Verin went back down the stairs, “I can’t get you to your room, but I’m sure you’ll be fine on the...“ the sound of sobbing filled the air, “...couch.” Verin braced himself before asking, “What’s wrong? Look at me,“ he put his hands on Essek’s shoulders, getting his attention, “Why are you upset?“

"They hate me!"

"Who hates you?"

"My friends..." It felt wrong to still call them that.

Verin paused for a moment, his first thought being to question his brother having friends, but put that out of his mind. “Can you open the door to the kitchen? There’s water in there, do you want a glass of water?”

“Water tastes good,“ Essek said between sobs.

“Yes, water tastes very good, and if you open the kitchen I can get you some.”

"Okay."

Verin, successfully in the kitchen, sat Essek down at a table and got him some water as promised, along with a handkerchief. “Now, who are your friends and why do you think they hate you?”

A few seconds passed before Essek looked up from his drink, “Huh?”

Verin signed, "Who are your friends?"

“The...“ Essek tried to hold back another sob, “the Mighty Nein“

“Uh huh,“ thinking about it, he’s heard of them before, “and why do you think they hate you?“ Essek froze when the question hit his ears, then started sobbing again. Verin switched to a more gentle tone, “Hey, hey, calm down. I just want to know what’s making you upset. Can you tell me why you think your friends hate you?”

After a moment, practically in a whisper, “I’m a bad person...“ Verin couldn’t exactly say anything to contradict that, so stayed silent, but did put a reassuring hand on Essek’s shoulder. “I’m a bad person, and they know, and they’re so good. They haven’t contacted me in so long. They hate me.”

“If they’re your friends, then how can they hate you?“

"They do."

“Okay,“ Verin was starting to feel like a therapist at this point, “what are these friends of yours like? Tell me about them.“

Essek perked up a bit, “Well, there’s Jester,” Verin nodded, encouraging him to go on, “She’s really nice, and playful. She gave me presents...” Essek remembered the cupcake. He didn’t eat it, he doesn’t like sweets. Why didn’t he just eat it? She bought that and was kind enough to give it to him, he should’ve eaten it. Why didn’t he just eat it? 

The sinking feeling of guilt was clear on Essek’s face, which was very off putting for Verin to see. He didn’t think Essek could feel guilt. “And the others?”

“Oh...,“ Essek dwelled on his guilt for a few more seconds before he continued, “There’s Veth. She was a goblin, but now she’s not. She likes to joke around, but she’s really very intelligent. We worked on a spell together, me, her, and Caleb. I was happy that day.“ Essek hadn’t felt connected like that in a long time, or maybe that was the first time? So genuine, the energy, the way they all bounced off each other. It was incredible. He’ll never have that again. He’ll never see those smiles again. That feeling, it will never happen again. He felt sick.

"Who is Caleb? Tell me about them."

The tightness in his chest came back as he tried to speak, the tears welling up again. "H-he-he is..."

“It’s okay. Just take a deep breath. Everything is okay, you can take your time.“

The handkerchief was soaked at this point, but he still tried to use it. “He is a wizard. He’s brilliant. He’s kind, and compassionate. Sometimes he’s funny. He’s very sad...” Those sad, pain filled blue eyes of a several times over broken and pieced back together man. They’re beautiful. There’s so much hurt behind them, and Essek contributed to that. He put more pain in the eyes of someone who has felt more than enough for several lifetimes. That night on the ship, there was so much anger, too. How could he have been so foolish to think things could get better after that day?

Verin got him a dish rag instead, “Maybe that one wasn’t the best one to talk about...” After several minutes spent calming Essek back down, Verin was hesitant to ask, but hoped it couldn’t get worse, “Okay, that’s three out of nine, 6 more left to go.”

"Seven," Essek sniffed.

"What?"

"There are seven."

"Seven left...?"

"No, seven people in the Mighty Nein."

"Why would they call themselves the Mighty Nein if there are seven?"

Essek looked down at his lap, "I don't know..."

“Okay, four left then.” ‘Thank the light, it’s less.’ Essek looked tired, every time he stopped crying, he was practically falling  asleep sitting up. “How about we finish this conversation in your room?”

"My room?"

"So you can get in bed."

Essek sat quietly for a moment, "I'm tired."

“Then let’s get you to bed.“ Verin led Essek up the stairs and got him to open the door to his room, then helped him to take off his shoes and cloak. “Better?“

Essek stared up at nothing as he laid in bed. His eyelids felt heavy, but he still wanted to talk. “Yasha is sad. She had a lot of bad things happen to her. She asked me if I was lonely. I could tell that she was lonely, too.” Yasha wasn’t like the rest, she didn’t really feel like a friend yet. Now she never will. He doesn’t deserve it. At least he probably didn’t hurt her the way he hurt the others.

“Okay, and the other three?“ Verin pulled a chair over to the side of the bed.

“Beauregard is smart, too, and resourceful. She’s a member of the Cobalt Soul. She’s honest, she tells you what she thinks.“ And all she must think about him is that he’s a monster. A cold, heartless, scheming, power hungry monster that she needs to protect the world from. She probably wants him dead. That’s fair, how could any of them not?

Essek continued, “Fjord is funny. He had a...“ Essek yawned, “ different accent when I first met him from the one he has now. He’s very good at pretending.” The night he went to dinner, Fjord told him he was a rock for their group. What is he to them now? Would it be better to be something awful to them, or to be nothing at all? He might find out, eventually. Both hurt in their own ways.

And then there was Caduceus. He could make you feel safe or like he was staring into your soul. He called Essek a good man, but was that manipulation or was he trying to be kind? How could anyone look at the things he’s done and call him a good man? Essek wiped the hot tears away with his blanket, feeling his eyes refusing to stay open. “Caduceus is scary. He could read a locked book. He makes really good tea...”

Verin waited 10 or so minutes to be sure Essek was asleep before leaving. Thankfully, the doors let him out.

[sebastianshaw]

Hey there @vvithteeth! So, this isn’t EXACTLY what you asked for the readlist to focus on, but I think it’s worth checking out all the same for a general sense of Emma’s history leading up to her current character!

 EVIL 80s EMMA She’s not good reference for who Emma is NOW, but a good look at what she used to be, and what she’s overcome. I think looking at Emma when she was at her worst, helps one appreciate her at her best. If you see what she had to rise above in herself, you understand the self that she’s fighting back, you have a better appreciation for the kinds of things she’s tempted towards---and the kinds of things she no longer does.  X-Men (1st series) #129-131 is her introduction, as she tries to recruit Kitty Pryde to her school before Xavier does. One of the most chilling moments, for me personally, is when she threatens to destroy Storm’s mind so that she will be “human only in physical form” And then Jean drops a house on her, which is why she’s not involved in the Dark Phoenix saga, as she was still recovering.  Emma continues trying to get Kitty and other kids into her clutches in  Uncanny X-Men (1st series) #180 and  New Mutants (1st series) #15-17, but in New Mutants (1st series) #38-40 she finally manages it by exploiting their current fucked-up state and having her student Empath use his powers to manipulate Magneto.  But when the kids decide to return to Xavier’s school, Emma allows them to do so without a fight, and just tells them that they’ll always have a place with her if they need it. Which seems nice, but then her thought balloons reveal that this is just so the kids won’t believe it when Magneto tells them she’s evil. Firestar #1-4: Whoa mama, Emma is at max abusive here. See, she desires to eliminate Selene, and to this end she trains a young mutant she names Firestar. She does so by manipulating the girl, isolating her, convincing her that she NEEDS Emma to help her control her powers or else she’s dangerous to others, and even KILLS HER PET HORSE. Emma is someone who says “I love children. Teaching is my life.” and she MEANS IT, she has a genuine call to teach and her love for her students is her driving force, but here we see how she USED to treat her students. Then put her against who she is now, it’s a huge contrast. Honestly, I don’t know why SOME WRITERS want to erase her growth by pretending she was Actually Good All Along but yeah, here’s Bad Emma. This is who she fights. This is what she has risen above.  EMMA’S BACKSTORY ISSUES Emma’s history is. . . kind of multiple choice. She tells one version in Generation X #24, but this doesn’t fit at all with the Emma Frost miniseries that came out from 2003 -2004, which also doesn’t exactly fit with “X-Men Origins: Emma Frost” single-issue backstory. I personally would read the “X-Men Origins” one and at least the beginning of the miniseries, specifically the parts that deal with her home life. The reason is that both of these show how unhealthy Emma’s home was growing up, and how that made her who she is. When I saw I think Emma is “wired” to be a villain, I don’t mean I think she was born like that, but as in, I think her environment trained her to become like that. It’s kind of like how a lot of personality disorders aren’t something a person is born with, but come from being in a shitty environment where certain behaviors will help you survive better, and then even once that situation is over, you can’t get rid of those behaviors because it’s how your brain is wired now. That’s how I read Emma---she came out of this toxic, duplicitous environment of manipulation and abuse where she and her siblings were set against each other, and that’s now her default for how she interacts with the world, even though she was originally just a sweet little nerd who only wanted to be a teacher. The “Origins” one features a generic Shitty Abuser Shaw and isn’t as good as the more drawn-out miniseries, as it focuses more on physical abuse (like her father suddenly slapping her) to get a point across that her family is toxic, rather than the more drawn-out miniseries, which I think works better for explaining Emma’s specific brand of. . .Emma-ness. But the bit where her mother tells her that her father is hardest on her because he likes her most of all, is really important I think, since that reflects her relationship later with the Hellions, which is also shown in this. Because Emma is cruel to the Hellions, even though she loves them, and in fact because she loved them. Her love for them and her agony over their deaths is what drives her to join the X-Men in the first place.  As for which origin story is true. . .I think the miniseries one is probably MOST true, as it’s the only one that Emma herself isn’t telling as a story. But as the friend who helped me assemble this list puts it, “ Think of any origin story of Emma's as "a sort of fairy tale, a parable," where it's the theme that matters, not the precise events or timeline “ 90s EMMA Emma spent most of the 90s teaching Generation X. I don’t remember a lot of stuff for specifically what I’m talking about with her, but here are a couple issues that strike me as significant. Uncanny X-Men (1st series) #311-314: In  Uncanny X-Men (1st series) #281-284, the Hellions were killed and Emma Frost was left in a coma, her body taken care of by the X-Men. This is when she wakes up, takes over Iceman’s body, and goes on a rampage thinking she’s the prisoner of the X-Men. When she finds out what happened to her Hellions, she collapses in despair and turns herself over to the X-Men. This is her turning point. This is when we found out Emma Frost had a soul. That she LOVED the Hellions. That they were not just tools. And there’s this one line in the yellow narrative boxes that really sticks out: “As the Hellfire Club’s White Queen, she spent the better part of her life traversing from one mind to another, violating the very essence of anyone she so chose. Losing herself in the memories of others. Altering, at times, the opinions of those who opposed her. This time is different. This time it is about survival. This time. . .it’s for the children.” The words are echoed when she agrees to join Krakoa's Quiet Council, after Charles and Erik tell her their plan and convince her it might just work. "One more time, then. For the children." Emma’s true love, in my opinion, isn’t Scott. Nor is it Namor. It’s teaching.  Emma becomes the teacher to Generation X, as mentioned, and in Generation X (1st series) #18-19, during the Onslaught crisis, she’s so terrified of losing them like she did the Hellions, that she snapped, took the kids to a safehouse in Canada, and put them under her telepathic control for their own safety. This is an Emma who has learned that abusing her students isn’t the right way, but still doesn’t respect their autonomy or consent even as she’s desperately trying to protect them, and has to learn from Monet (who is. . . .actually not Monet) that this isn’t the right way to do it either. Emma did not grow up with adult models who showed her how to love and care for a child, she has to figure it out herself, and it’s a rocky journey at times, even though she has the best of intentions. I think this is a good issue to show an Emma who is in the process of evolving. She’s getting better, but she still hasn’t got it “right” yet.  CURRENT-ERA EMMA Emma really becomes the Emma we know with Grant Morrison’s New X-Men in the early 2000s. This is where she starts affecting a British accent, calling everyone darling, and the delightfully witty Queen of Mean while also still a devoted teacher with trauma over losing her students. She always was witty and a little mean, but Morrison takes these traits up to 11 and gives Emma the foundation of what a lot of writers would build upon. It’s also when she begins her telepathic affair/seduction of Scott, which is a more than slightly problematic dynamic, as I’ve discussed. Also, this is when she got her now-famous diamond form.  We get a lot of lovely Emma nastiness in this series. New X-Men #128-139 all have lots of great moments for her where she’s just WICKED yet still on the side of the angels, and New X-Men Annual 2001 starts us off.  However, character-wise, I think what really comes out here is Emma going from blaming her past actions on substances (she tells Scott in the New X-Men Annual 2001 that she just probably out of her mind on drink and drugs all those times she was doing bad things) to being forced to face her past and herself for the first time when confronted by Jean & the Phoenix in New X-Men #139. It’s the first time we get a look at what Emma’s family and home life was like, as well as the first time she’s established as having a brother, but more than that is the emotion that gets brought in. This is also when Morrison decided to retcon the Hellfire Club as a strip joint (which I hate and also shows up in Emma’s “Origins” story) but that’s neither here nor there. The point is, Jean makes Emma face all her flaws and pain and nasty, most vulnerable parts of herself.  Emma is left mentally broken...then one page later, physically, shattered by a diamond bullet that we later find out was fired by none other than Esme, the Stepford Cuckoo whom Emma later says reminded her most of herself. There is definitely poetic symbolism there. As my friend put it “This cycle of her students dying and Emma losing it and trying again but never facing the roots of her issues goes on and on until her roots literally kill her, and Jean of all people resurrects her. Jean, who saw right through Emma, saw something there worth saving, and literally and metaphorically put her back together again.” The next place I’d go is Astonishing X-Men, which is the first time Emma and Kitty work together. Kitty HATES Emma at this point, because, as she points out, Emma is the villain in her origin story. And Emma KNOWS this. That’s why she WANTS Kitty there. She knew that Kitty would keep an eye on her, wouldn’t trust her, and that’s what Emma WANTS, because Emma doesn’t trust HERSELF. So this shows that Emma KNOWS her moral compass is a very flawed one, and that she WANTS to be better so consciously that she’s getting someone she knows doesn’t like or trust her to be around because she knows she’ll watch her like a HAWK. This also means Emma is admitting she can fail, and giving some control to someone else.  There’s. . . so much that happens from here. Utopia. Phoenix Five. The Terrigen Mists shit. Secret Empire. I feel like there are probably great Emma readlists out there that include these, but honestly I just kinda zoned out through a lot of it. These are some additional read lists for her I found: https://lornahs.tumblr.com/post/87230882649/where-to-start-reading-emma-frost-lets-start  https://www.reddit.com/r/comicbooks/comments/2bwwok/emma_frost_reading/  It’s definitely a LOT and I wish you the best of luck tackling it! Also, I wouldn’t feel you have to read EVERYTHING, or incorporate everything into your depiction. Pick and choose what you feel works best for your version!