#clearly a hoard so I’m going to be working on using them up and throwing them out

[simplyghosting]

Did my nails for Valentine’s Day 💝💅

[cravingpepsimax]

i’m cooking up a Fucked Up and Obsessed stan au bc we need more of that (it’s also arguably an offshoot of taxidermy ford WJAJSJSK)

stan has worked tirelessly, thanklessly, for 30 years to bring his brother back. over the years, he grows more and more obsessed with ford. it’s kind of hard not to — you need that motivation to keep going somehow. every time he finds something ford used to own, he hides it away into his basement. every time he learns something about ford’s history that he didn’t know, he memorizes it like he’s, for once in his life, studying a test. they may have been estranged for a decade, and he might not know what’s going on on the other side of the portal, but he’ll make up for it the best he can. he has to learn everything. he HAS to. maybe he even picks up his brother’s interest in journaling — only, instead, his research isn’t on the paranormal, but specifically ford.

stan is willing to sacrifice anything for ford. he is willing to sacrifice EVERYTHING. his love of ford isn’t just familial, it’s not even just romantic — it’s borderline cultish. at first, he felt guilt taking his brother’s name, but now it makes him feel closer, like he and ford have somehow become one.

and then. finally. ford comes back.

and ford is pissed.

like in canon, stan does fight back and bicker with ford. and, like in canon, stan doesn’t actually hate ford. he never has. he doesn’t want to fight, but ford isn’t giving him a choice.

the worst part is that ford’s taken the basement.

because the basement is where stan put a lot of his… ford research.

everything that wasn’t in the basement was in a secret room directly connected to it.

it starts off with smaller things — a few of ford’s old personal belongings here and there. he mostly just brushes it off, ignores the pang in his heart when he thinks about how stan kept these souvenirs for a reason.

but then, it piles up. stan keeping ford’s spare pair of glasses was bittersweet — stan hoarding ford’s old garbage 3 decades after the fact was concerning. it got even MORE concerning when ford found out that THERE’S AN ENTIRE ROOM OF FORD STUFF.

there are photographs of ford covering the walls. pretty much every legal/medical/academic record of ford was there, and they sure weren’t there for identity theft.

but that’s not what ford notices.

the first thing ford notices are the human taxidermies. that all look like him.

every ford taxidermy is well-kept, dressed in ford’s old clothes. ford isn’t too surprised stan kept his clothes — what he IS surprised by is how taken care of they are. they’ve all clearly been washed recently. ironed, too.

and his taxidermies were wearing them like mannequins.

some of the taxidermies look like ford in his 30s, minus the dishevelement brought on by paranoia and sleep deprivation. some look like him as a teen. some look… awfully similar to himself now. the elderly taxidermies are a bit off, and each have some different design choices, so ford realizes that these were made before his return.

doesn’t help the fact that stan is MAKING FUCKING TAXIDERMIES OF HIM.

stan finds out ford’s in the room and freaks the fuck out. he’s still working on his plan on how to deal with ford’s… behavior, and this REALLY throws a wrench in it.

ford acts a bit more… nervous around stan in the next few days.

that just makes stan even more upset.

[bonesandthebees]

Things we have learned in chapter 2: CoS!Wilbur encompasses all the stupidity of a 11-year-old in combination with all the self-destructiveness of want Wilbur character. This can only result in good things, right? That being said, I fully understand why he steals food (in that I do not because that shit would give me so much anxiety), but from what I understand, they are rationing food so he’s always hungry. Also, it’s not even nutritional food. Like it’s fruit, it’s just nice treats. It’s his need for sugar winning out. Typical 11 years old stuff. Though I suppose he’s closer to 12 now.

Anyway, the orange I will blame Wilbur for. That was just a stupid move and he knew what would happen. Typical dumb kid stuff. He did not deserve to be hit (it clearly did not work, negative punishment never does, Phil’s positive readirmation and praise work way better do teach him to he should and shouldn’t do. To bad it’s teaching him to murder. Also, while I’m getting my psychologist out: Wilbur is clearly a neglected child, at some point they get into a pattern of accepting any attention as good (even negative attention like getting scolded, yelled at or possibly hit). I’m just saying, it’s a good thing Phil is there to mostly validate Wilbur’s need for attention. But it could also be a subconscious part of why he’s being a brat so while Phil’s attention is mostly fixing that need. And I am incredibly off track).

My point was that the first time is his own responsibility. And while you should never hit a child, I get that the crew gets mad because it’s the second time and clearly deliberate. Also, all of them are hungry and the second one person starts hoarding food it puts the entire sharing economy at jeopardy. The second time I am fully blaming on Phil. Like the kid is always hungry. Phil taught him to sing and now he accidentally got extra food. (food really is driving the plot forward on this deserted island, for obvious reasons. It was always going to be the main instigator). There was no way Wilbur would have said no to that food.

And since he is a little shit who now has a new ability to get food unlocked... All I’m saying is that if Wilbur does get hurt it’s his fault for not asking to turn him when Techno suggested it instead of going the roundabout way. Like clearly Phil is testing how Wilbur responds to getting to learn about her culture and becoming more met (by learning to sing), but I’m giving this one to Techno. Should have asked Wilbur he would have said yes. Oh this is so going to result in non-consensual (though actually highly appreciated) yoinkage.

I will be back tomorrow to scream more, cuz I’m out of time and I need to scream about Techno, but know that I absolutely used do beg my dad to throw me in the pool until I got to big for it.

-🌲

songs!wilbur is so stupid oh my god. he's such an 11 (nearly 12) year old with self-destructive tendencies. can't wait to see how he grows up. but yes he's hungry and he wants sweet stuff. while he technically does have enough to eat to be able to function, it's never quite enough for any of them. and also, he's a kid who wants sweets. he's dumb basically

yeahhh the orange he deserves to be blamed for but still didn't deserve to get hit for. you're right to point out that phil's positive affirmations work way better, but phil is a mer without human morality so uhh... he's learning some interesting things :) also that is a fascinating take on where wilbur's head is at. he's definitely a bit neglected at least in an emotional sense so he likes having the attention on him. if phil wasn't around he would probably be in much worse shape from the pirates because he would've done so much other stupid shit to get attention.

I get why you blame phil for wilbur being so okay with manipulating schlatt to get more food, and it definitely is in part phil's fault. but tbh if wilbur had had that power to make someone give him something just by singing before he ever met phil and before he was ever marooned on an island?? he would've still done it lmao. that kid was part of a pirate crew he did not have a very strong moral compass

YESSS you know the joys of being thrown across a pool it's one of the best parts of being a throwable child

[lina-delgado]

@alexlwoo enlists Lina’s help to snoop through @kazxraval‘s grotto home to find anything that could be worth taking for themselves. Easily getting themselves caught, the pair use their endless abilities to be annoying charming to get them out without much consequence (for now).

"I'm telling you, he's not here, it's fine. Have an air-listen if you don't believe my scouting skills."

In all actuality it probably would be prudent of Lina to double-check Alex's work, so to speak, but he really was fairly confident that the resident of this out-of-the-way grotto wasn't there. As much as Alex wanted to be a burr in Kaz's side, he didn't relish actual physical confrontation. Something more sneaky-deaky was the better option. Kaz looked like one of those guys who'd be all cool in a fight, maybe get beat on for a while, and then make a dramatic comeback in the last round and stroll off like nothing had happened. JGL in 'Brick', yep, that was the vibe. Alex had no intention of finding out if his supposition was true or not.

Nope, much more fun to just break into Kaz's house and take a look around. What was the harm, right? He turned to look at Lina as they stood on the threshold of Kaz's home, one last moment where they could turn back and still be completely innocent. But what fun was that? "You ready?" Alex asked Lina. "If he catches us remember our story. Somebody told us that he had the, um, the doohickey that Dr. Nesh needs. What was the doohickey again? It's been so long since I watched a primetime medical drama. I can't remember anything except suppositories, my mind's totally blanking."

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

"I trust your scouting skills, ok? He'd probably be harder to find just by listening anyway, even with my incredible hearing." Lina knew that Kaz was air attuned as well so she knew how easy it was to stay silent if hidden. Plus it wasn't like she had any stakes in this hunt of theirs. She really appreciated Alex having her back when Jupiter came around and told him she owed him one. He seemed to have an idea for that favor very quick.

But she agreed because her encounters with Kaz were so brief, back in the world and here too so what was the harm of doing a little snooping? Clearly it was a compliment, she just wanted to get to know him!

"Let's go." She said as she took the first step across the threshold, as if she was expecting some elaborate boobytrap to go off once she did. But when nothing happened she happily skipped around the place looking around the rocks and crevices to see if anything caught her eye. "You think I know anything about doctor doohickies? The only thing I can think of is a stethoscope. So if we want to say that, otherwise you could throw any wild claim and I'll agree with you. Oh! Look at this!" She cooed excitedly, walking over to a rocky area where in the holes and gaps she started pulling out multiple pairs of sunglasses. "Holy shit, do you see how many he has? No wonder I haven't found any for myself he's hoarding them all!" She complained before putting a pair of pink heart shaped sunglasses on. "How do I look?"

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Lina's clear hesitation as she took that first step only validated Alex's own concern that the place would be rigged or trapped somehow, but it seemed that he hadn't had the time to set up a whole Holy Grail situation for them to Indiana Jones through. He followed her eagerly, looking around at the grotto with a long whistle. The sound got chewed up by the rockface, eaten instead of echoing, but that wasn't of much interest to Alex. Yet. He'd ponder the peculiarity of acoustics later. 

"I think you wanna know about doctor doohickies," Alex said teasingly. "Little birdies told me that you made passes at both the hot doctor guys. Did either of 'em bite yet? They seem like they might need some extra coaxing." But Lina had found something interesting, and as much as Alex loved gossip he loved the idea of pawing at Kaz's treasured belongings more. Kaz seemed like that kind of guy who lived a minimalist existence but had a few Pieces that had been carefully curated. 

And as Alex watched Lina excavating the sunglasses stash, he practically reeled in delight. "What a bitch!" he agreed, breathlessly, hopping over to poke through the collection and popping on a non-heart pink-framed pair to match her. "You look maaaahvelous, dahling! Not hard to do but those sunnies really bring out the--" Alex kissed his fingers, making a ping! sound, "--heart in your heart-eyes!" He idly tucked another pair (mirrored) into his pocket and kept scouting around. There wasn't much. "Either he hasn't been living here or it's routine for him to pack up and hide all his stuff," Alex said. "What a freak."

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Lina threw a glare Alex's way at his innocuous, playful remark. She was sure his little birdy was just him eavesdropping and while she respected the nosiness she wasn't in the mood to talk about her failed attempt to seduce the doctors of the island. "I don't think that's really important right now. Don't you have some junk to find?" She obviously deflected trying to shoo him off to look around the place some more. She didn't care what they were looking for or what was being found but for once she didn't want the conversation topic to be on her.

But the sunglasses were a good distraction. It felt like it would never end the amount that kept being revealed. She flashed a wide smile, placing her hand under her chin and tilting her head up to strike a little pose at the compliment. She didn't plan on taking the pair she had off but did admire a few other options while Alex continued to look around. "Honestly, like, paranoid much?" She snorted, as the person sitting in his place invading his privacy. "What exactly did he do again? Called you a hack or something? Did he use his air powers to slap you across the face? Cause I can tell you that shit hurts."

Lina didn't feel like moving from her spot but sat up again anyway with a couple sunglasses in her pocket and the heart shaped shades now resting on her head. "Tell me if you find anything good. See if he's one of those who keeps a diary or something to share all of his feelings that he doesn't tell anyone about so he can keep up the sexy, mysterious, brooding guy act."

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Ooooh, that irritation was very interesting. Alex's tally of Lina's success rate around the island was an informal one at best, whenever he happened to stumble upon some new information -- it was nowhere near as comprehensive as one might think. But clearly Lina was smarting about her failures, and clearly she thought that he knew about it and was itching to poke fun at her. Alex might have, if he thought he could get away with it. But they were already in the middle of a delicate situation, so he just shrugged and said, "Win some lose some, right? Besides, we all have an eternity of looking exactly as hot as we are right now. You'll get 'em in time."

Alex was pleased with how selfless and encouraging he was, and with the stash of sunglasses that just made it feel even better. Especially when he and Lina could bond on scoffing at the way Kaz chose to live his life. He bristled a little when Lina asked to be reminded of why Alex had beef with Kaz, and he said with only the tiniest bit of sourness, "I told him about the Netflix miniseries, how I was gonna play him in it, I was gonna be -- well, they changed his name to Kenzie Royal, I guess for legal purposes -- but yeah, I was gonna play the Kaz role. And he was such a dick about it! He said I was sure to suck and he said -- he said I wasn't hot enough to play him."

Even the memory was irksome, and Alex suddenly was smarting from it just as much as Lina was feeling slighted. He picked up the pace in hunting around, finally finding some kind of bag. It only had a few meagre items in it, but Alex brought it over for Lina to hold while he sifted the contents. Phone, iPod, boring; notepad, more interesting; zippo lighter, best of all.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Lina wasn't sure how reassured she felt by Alex's encouragement. It took a bit longer than an instant for her to start thinking to herself, yeah! We're gonna be this hot forever! This is just a bit of unfortunate luck that will pass. And even then, she was really forcing herself to believe that. "You're right, you are just so right. Can't win them all! And getting worked up about it isn't gonna do me any favors. Besides we have possibly important things to find."

At Alex's explanation of why they were doing this, Lina knew to expect something petty. That was what they were, completely underhanded for the most unnecessary reasons. But when Alex told her what Kaz said, she snorted in amusement before immediately backpedaling. "Sorry, sorry, no that's not funny! That's such a conceited asshole thing to say! You're not hot enough,  you're plenty hot. If you couldn't pull off Kenzie Royal they wouldn't have hired you! What a tool." There, bring supportive was easy. 

She held onto the bag Alex found, peeking in as he rummaged through it, pulling out a few things, tossing them back in if he wasn't interested. "Hey, hey, pass me that, I wanna see that." She told him before he put the ipod back into the bag. It wasn't like there would be anything of note on there but Lina was really hoping to find some sort of hilarious showtunes or boy bands on his playlists. But before there was any time to even turn the thing on let alone snoop through the artists, something in the air felt off. She wondered if this was the soft, nearly impossible to pick up sound of an air attuned's natural gift of stealth. "I think he's back." Lina whispered so softly it might have been barely audible to Alex.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Another sleepless night, but nothing unusual about it. Kaz waited for daylight to trek down the beach and set up fishing lines in the lazier spots of the tide. Eventually habit had Kaz checking on the surroundings and further afield with his hearing. 

He picked up on the two. Slagging him off, when they barely knew him-- but alright. Whatever. Then he realized exactly where they were sharing insults. 

Those motherfuckers. He began a quick glide back, even though Lina's air would likely sense Kaz was on his way. He slipped up the steep slope to the entrance of his hideaway and saw them. Helping themselves. Going through his shit. Like Kaz having net zero wasn't low enough for anyone, they had to root around for more. 

He leaned in the doorway and crossed his arms, attempting to keep a combustible anger from exploding. The hinge of his jaw locked tight. "Anything I can help you two find?" A pause. "Trespassing, stealing-- an interesting trajectory happening here." His attunement yanked at the dry bag to bring it to him, same with the glasses Lina wore. How deeply, inherently fucked up they were. "What the fuck are you doing?"

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Alex scoffed at Lina for a moment, clicking the zippo open and closed in rapid succession. "How could he be back? He's been off wherever it is he goes for ages. He's not even interested in being here anymore." All of this was wild speculation, considering Alex wasn't anywhere near knowing what Kaz's schedule and priorities were. And especially since Lina was air attuned and would know with far more certainty than he did -- in fact, the only reason he even knew she'd said anything was because he happened to look at her and see her lips moving.

So when Kaz's actual voice spoke up from the doorway, Alex jumped, dropping the lighter. He bent to scoop it up again immediately, using that moment to gather his composure again and decide on which way to play this. "We're not trespassing," Alex said, as he straightened up again, zippo tight in his palm. "This place is abandoned! We're canvassing to see if it's suitable for somebody to live in. Since you left it. And left all your crap, too--" Alex swiveled around, gesturing at nothing. "Nobody's a mind reader, Kaz. You keep disappearing and reappearing and expecting everything to be the same? Come onnnnnn."

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Lina expected Alex to have some faith in her as she quietly alerted him of Kaz's presence. Unfortunately it was harder to pick up his movements from further away so it kind of made things pointless. She knew he was here but there was no way to make an escape. So they just had to think on their toes.

At the sound of Kaz's voice, Lina raised her eyebrows at Alex as an 'i told you so' while he bounced around at the surprise of being caught. She tried to turn around with a smile on her face, but as she did the air snatched up her sunglasses from her and she watched them get sent straight into Kaz's hands. "Yeah, we were just having a look around! Alex mentioned this cool place that could have been a step up from our current place. It's so hard to tell when things have been left behind for good or not, how are we supposed to know?"

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

These two were fucking children, and he was far from being a babysitter. Alex played it perhaps a little better than Lina. The overconfidence of an actor almost hitting their mark while ensuring their good side was towards the camera. (Tough, the guy really didn't have a good side at all).

Lina gave some bullshit excuse. "Oh? Most wouldn't consider this to be a step up from an actual building. How interesting..." He pocketed the sunglasses taken from her. And then, to answer both of them. "If all my 'crap' is still here, obviously I am too."

"But, since you two dipshits don't have a brain cell to spare between each other, I'll make this crystal clear: I. Live. Here. Easy, hm?" 

Alex had swept something off the floor as Kaz stepped through the door. Too clever in the scoop, too quick to rigidly stand back up... Kaz craned to see a tightly fisted hand at Alex's side. "The hell do you have?"

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Alex wasn't dissatisfied with his own fire attunement, not really, but -- knowing that Lina's air let her pick up on what everyone was saying even when they didn't want her to, and now seeing Kaz whisk things away from them with his air? He was feeling a considerable amount of envy. "You can't spare even one pair of your hoarded sunglasses for Lina? Not cool, man. Other people have eyes that need protection from the sun too and I bet you don't even wear half of these. It's just sheer meanness not to let her have one measly pair to stop her from having eyestrain or getting eye cancer." 

Alex sidled over to stand next to Lina, putting his hand protectively in the small of her back. Or rather: 'protectively', because he took that opportunity to slide Kaz's lighter down the back of her panties. "I don't have anything and I don't see why you're accusing me! I told you why we're here. It didn't seem like anybody lived here because you don't even HAVE much crap. So we can leave if you wanna keep squatting on this URL instead of letting other people use it."

Hopefully Lina knew how to walk with something concealed in her underwear. She seemed like that kind of girl. Alex huffed, nose in the air, and started edging towards the door. "Selfish," he chided Kaz again.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

"If you saw how tiny our place was, you'd understand." Lina replied back to Kaz's suspicion. She didn't even need to lie about that one! It wasn't that the place was bad, they definitely made it work but it could have been completely plausible that they'd take a nice wide open cavernous grotto over their little shack. Even she could admit that they gave off the vibes of a spoiled heir and heiress who needed more space for their big egos.

Crossing her arms across her chest, Lina nodded along as Alex reprimanded Kaz for his 'meanness' of not sharing even a single pair of sunglasses with her. She didn't realize that this show of support was to slip whatever Kaz saw him grab in her underwear but, okay, sure, fine, she could work with this. "Okay, look, how about a trade off? Those cute heart shaped sunglasses for your ipod that I have, and our total disappearance from here. That's like, such an easy deal for you. Getting us out of your hair and never coming back here for one pair of sunglasses? Come on."

She held out her free hand to Kaz with a smile on her face looking like she was already waiting expectantly for the swap. "Or, if you want just one of us back, I can always come back and sweeten the deal for you. Make up for the opportunity we missed at that music festival forever ago." She offered, having never been above offering up sex as a distraction and this seemed like as good a time as any if it meant they got out of here with minimal berating.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Kaz recognized inane prattling to buy time when heard it. Why, though, was the question. What the hell were they up to? It certainly wasn't measuring windows for curtains, as they claimed. 

So he wouldn't entertain too much more of the talk. "Uh, if Lina had asked for a pair like a normal fucking person, if she decided not to be a fucking thief. Then yeah, maybe I would've given her a pair. I don't have much 'crap' but you sure as hell wanted to dig through it." To Lina, he feigned seriousness. "So sorry about the potential eye cancer." 

He scoffed at Lina's 'traded off' with a slow blink. "No, I'm not interested in anyone 'trading' for my own possessions." The fucking balls on this one. Lina's allusion to sex, well. He did stop to think about it ahhh... but no, no. 

"I want you both out. With empty pockets and empty hands--" said pointedly, "Alex." For fuck's sake, it really was exasperating. Anger barely covered. "Both of you. Show me."

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Alex had to admit, it was fascinating watching the two of them exchange their distinct brands of audacity. Lina, convinced that anybody in the world would be swayed by an offer of her body to the point where she would trade Kaz his own items for his own items; Kaz countering with mights and maybes as if those should be taken as a sure thing, just because he said so. 

If he wasn't wanting to escape this unscathed, Alex might have been tempted to just sic them on each other and enjoy the show.

But no, that lighter was in Lina's underwear and he wanted to fish it out as soon as possible so Kaz couldn't catch them in an act of bizarre theft, so Alex pushed himself bodily forward to turn out the pockets of his shorts, unbutton his tropical shirt, kick off his flip-flops. "You wanna inspect closer?" he asked Kaz cheerfully, reaching up to fold his ears over and turn his head each way. "I got no secrets! You can look all you want, Kaz, though I have to say--" Alex made a sad face, puppy dog eyes. "It's sad that you suspect your fellow islanders this way. Did somebody hurt your trust when you were little? It's okay. Your feelings are valid. But it's not healthy to live like this."

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

"Well how was I supposed to ask when I didn't know you had them up until now? They were practically hidden that's not my fault!" She complained even though they all knew that it very much was. Well, it was more Alex's fault if anything since he's the one who wanted to come here but Alex wouldn't appreciate being thrown under the bus and Kaz wouldn't care whose idea it was so she kept it to herself.

As Alex put on his little show of showing off how he has absolutely nothing on him, Lina just meandered over considering she had something pressed against the small of her back, held there by the waistband of her underwear. She handed over the ipod in her hand to Kaz and then took the extra pair of sunglasses she had out of her pocket and handed that over as well before holding her hands up and walking backward as she moved away from him. "That's all I've got. Enjoy your monopoly on sunglasses, I guess." 

It didn't really matter what they said in their defense, Kaz was obviously pissed but Alex seemed to have gotten what he wanted out of this since it was hidden away on her. The plan now seemed to be just hit Kaz with whatever nonsense they could think of so that he would just shoo them out instead of searching any further. "Should we get you set up for a therapy session once you kick us out? It's nothing to be ashamed of, and I'm sure there's someone on the island that would be willing to analyze why you're so secretive and suspicious of people. I'll make sure to look into that for you, no need to thank me."

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The goal was not a strip search (unless absolutely necessary). Not interested in checking coin slots. The manner in which Alex flung off those flip flops felt particularly aggravating to Kaz. Other than a clench of a fist, he kept it to himself. 

All a big fucking act with Alex. With the both of them. He wanted them out. Without resorting to using his air-- no reason in giving these assholes more to gripe about, not if it wasn't needed. "Yeah. Trust broken, but didn't fling myself off a cliff about it." They threw plenty of jabs to get a rise out of him, so only fair Kaz do the same. Alex would probably return with how he flew like a dove or something equally dramatic. 

Lina lodged empty complaints, but did return what he thought to be the most important item, the ipod he pocketed. He popped the sunglasses on his head. "I will enjoy my monopoly, so very kind of you to say." 

His lips formed a flat line to match his expression, with all the heat at a boil in his eyes. He scanned them each over again. Lina tossed another remark out. "Mm, therapy would serve kleptos better, I think. Now fuck off." 

Kaz moved away from the door and to the contents of his bag spilled on his bedding. Scattered, disregarded, their grubby hands had been over it all. He frowned for a moment. There was something else important gone. It was possible he'd left it at his other camp. Unlikely, but possible. His mouth turned into a tight grin. "If I find anything else missing, like say... a Zippo. I'll be in touch."

END.

[arbiterlexultionis]

Bruce Wayne’s True Colors

By: Clark Kent

Bruce Wayne. We’ve all heard the name. All heard the stories of his various escapades, diving into public fountains, buying out entire hotels whenever he feels like it to get away with his and his children’s misbehavior, spending more time out of the city he “Loves” then in it and inevitably getting an assortment of injuries in the process, the historical bills alone of which would bankrupt nearly every hard working American in this country. He’s had nine different “skiing accidents” in the last six months alone. While a bit clumsy, with a tendency to throw a bit more of his pocket change than most at charities, he nonetheless seems like the stereotypical greedy American billionaire, just one that is a bit more air-headed and kind then most. But is he really? I think not, and I have proof, in the form of a recorded conversation provided by none other than billionaire philanthropist Oliver Queen.

“All right Bruce, you’ve been lost in your head trying to plan for Something for weeks and clearly haven’t gotten very far. What’s going on? Do you need backup from the REDACTED?” Bruce waves his hand through air as if to show the possibility away.

“No, no, it’s nothing work related, a personal matter. I’ll be fine, I’m sure I’ll find a solution in time.”

“You’ll be fine? How many times have you said you’ll be fine on your own and then been very much not fine?”

“Less then the alternative.”

“Fair. I’m not letting this go though.” Bruce sits in a chair and lays back, one hand coming up to stroke his chin while his shoulders slumped in a near imperceptible sign of exhaustion.

“I have to much money.”

Oliver glances around the opulent mansion, swirling the glass of alcohol in his hand before shooting a look at the bottle of the stuff sitting on the table beside him. White text and an arrow pointing to it appear labeling the bottle as worth around fifteen thousand USD. “To much money, you say?”

“Hoarding money like a dragon is the past time of beast. Amassing wealth and doing absolutely nothing with it when innocent people can barely afford to eat, if they can at all, is immoral. I’ve been trying to get rid of all the money I don’t need to maintain my life style and watch over Gotham for decades. Decades Ollie. Every rich asshole in the country have been going on and on about how treating employees like actual human beings with mouths to feed and lives to live is unsustainable and unprofitable, so that was the first thing I tried. $75,000 a year is the absolute least anyone in Wayne Enterprises makes a year with a single exception, the benefits package is worth even more than that, paternity and maternity leave of a year with a twenty percent raise with every child birthed and reduced workload for however long they need after, an entire month of PTO for all employees. It should have slashed WE’s profits. Should have. It didn’t. Employees are working harder then ever, using there extra time and the company scholarships I set up to pursue higher education and learn more skills which make them more productive. So I decided to make WE more environmentally conscious, because that’s supposed to be to expensive to be profitable. Overhauled nearly the entire company, redesigned machinery, invested tens of millions into recycling technologies, renewable power sources, the whole nine yards. But apparently, using less power to do more, producing zero waste products and no pollution also results in extremely high efficiency and rising profits. I made my own annual salary as CEO 1 dollar a month and apparently word about it got around fast. Half the company’s HQ went on strike and when I rushed down to find out who managed to treat them poorly enough for a strike to be neccisary without me noticing I found out that their “demands” were for me to give myself a raise and take better care of myself. Apparently they thought it was “immoral” and “mildly disturbing” for me to be giving them 25 hour work weeks, high pay and good benefits while working 60 hours a week. I’d barely managed to negotiate them down to $150,000 a year when Clark just so happened to publish an article proving that when ever I go on vacation I’m just doing more work outside of Gotham or trying to get some charity work done without the media breathing down my neck. Days of compromise and negations, gone in an instant.

So, investing in WE doesn’t work. After that I decided to invest in Gotham itself. Hospitals, schools, homeless shelters, high quality apartments with cheap rents, buying up thousands of houses to rent at low rates and sell at cheap prices to drive down the cost of housing, modernizing and improving infrastructure related to water and electrify to be cheaper for end users and more resistant to rouge attacks. Anything and everything that I could throw money at and get my lobbying groups to make happen. But WE was the only company that wasn’t corrupt, incompetent and/or treating its employees like crap. So all that work and business went to WE. And I couldn’t just leave all those corrupt businesses to their own devices. And sometimes WE wasn’t involved in the industries that I needed work done in. I wound up adding entire devisions to the company. I founded 19 new businesses and became the owner of 37 more. And no matter what I do none of them will stop growing and becoming more profitable!

After that I started trying to just give money away, mostly through free college. For the first 5 years it was going great, I was losing money. Not enough to counteract all my other forms of income, but for the first time I was putting more money into something than I was getting out, and if I scaled it up enough it might just work. But after five years the first people that I put through college had been in the workforce for a year. And the system I set up to find jobs for them that wouldn’t result in them being treated poorly by employers or working for supervillains resulted in all of them working for me, where they would all have large amounts of disposable income to give back to the charity. Once they started getting their doctorates it was a lost cause, they were giving so much to the charity that any money that I put in would just sit there instead of bettering the lives of those in need, defeating the point of giving it away. I tried to tell them that they don’t have to, I’ll just find it all myself, but like a week later I caught Dick in a zoom meeting with half the highest donators trying to figure out how to make a trust fund with me as the trustee because I accidentally revealed that I had been the only one funding the project for years and it “wasn’t fair to put such a burden on a single man” and “will be absolutely hilarious to see the look on his face when he winds up with even more money again”.

I assembled an entire team to go through my taxes to make sure I was paying as much as I possibly could, but apparently my dad intentionally fucked up his taxes so he would pay even more than he was supposed to and I inherited his systems, so if the IRS ever dig into my finances they realize they owe me money! Enough to raise my net worth by several percent!

Nothing works! Every time I try and use my money to make the world a better place and help people I just wind up with more money!”

Over the course of his rant Bruce had risen to his feet and started pacing, become more and more exasperated and raising in volume, before finally whirling around to stare at Oliver clearly expecting some type of response or advice. The blond billionaire took a long sip of his drink. “Well that sucks, but good luck with it I guess.”

Plot armor but it’s Bruce Wayne’s wealth.

Bruce is one of the richest men in the world. Bruce does not want to be one of the richest men in world.

He starts by implementing high starting salaries and full health care coverages for all levels at Wayne Enterprises. This in vastly improves retention and worker productivity, and WE profits soar. He increases PTO, grants generous parental and family leave, funds diversity initiatives, boosts salaries again. WE is ranked “#1 worker-friendly corporation”, and productively and profits soar again.

Ok, so clearly investing his workers isn’t the profit-destroying doomed strategy his peers claim it is. Bruce is going to keep doing it obviously (his next initiative is to ensure all part-time and contractors get the same benefits and pay as full time employees), but he is going to have to find a different way to dump his money.

But you know what else is supposed to be prohibitively expensive? Green and ethical initiatives. Yes, Bruce can do that. He creates and fund a 10 year plan to covert all Wayne facilities to renewable energy. He overhauls all factories to employ the best environmentally friendly practices and technologies. He cuts contracts with all suppliers that engage in unethical employment practices and pays for other to upgrade their equipment and facilities to meet WE’s new environmental and safety requirements. He spares no expense.

Yeah, Wayne Enterprises is so successful that they spin off an entire new business arm focused on helping other companies convert to environmentally friendly and safe practices like they did in an efficient, cost effective, successful way.

Admittedly, investing in his own company was probably never going to be the best way to get rid of his wealth. He slashes his own salary to a pittance (god knows he has more money than he could possibly know what to do with already) and keeps investing the profits back into the workers, and WE keeps responding with nearly terrifying success.

So WE is a no-go, and Bruce now has numerous angry billionaires on his back because they’ve been claiming all these measures he’s implementing are too expensive to justify for decades and they’re finding it a little hard to keep the wool over everyone’s eyes when Idiot Softheart Bruice Wayne has money spilling out his ears. BUT Bruce can invest in Gotham. That’ll go well, right?

Gotham’s infrastructure is the OSHA anti-Christ and even what little is up to code is constantly getting destroyed by Rogue attacks. Surely THAT will be a money sink.

Except the only non-corrupt employer in Gotham city is….Wayne Enterprises. Or contractors or companies or businesses that somehow, in some way or other, feed back to WE. Paying wholesale for improvement to Gotham’s infrastructure somehow increases WE’s profits.

Bruce funds a full system overhaul of Gotham hospital (it’s not his fault the best administrative system software is WE—he looked), he sets up foundations and trusts for shelters, free clinics, schools, meal plans, day care, literally anything he can think of.

Gotham continues to be a shithole. Bruce Wayne continues to be richer than god against his Batman-ingrained will.

Oh, and Bruice Wayne is no longer viewed as solely a spoiled idiot nepo baby. The public responds by investing in WE and anything else he owns, and stop doing this, please.

Bruce sets up a foundation to pay the college tuition of every Gotham citizen who applies. It’s so successful that within 10 years, donations from previous recipients more than cover incoming need, and Bruce can’t even donate to his own charity.

But by this time, Bruce has children. If he can’t get rid of his wealth, he can at least distribute it, right?

Except Dick Grayson absolutely refuses to receive any of his money, won’t touch his trust fund, and in fact has never been so successful and creative with his hacking skills as he is in dumping the money BACK on Bruce. Jason died and won’t legally resurrect to take his trust fund. Tim has his own inherited wealth, refuses to inherit more, and in fact happily joins forces with Dick to hack accounts and return whatever money he tries to give them. Cass has no concept of monetary wealth and gives him panicked, overwhelmed eyes whenever he so much as implies offering more than $100 at once. Damian is showing worrying signs of following in his precious Richard’s footsteps, and Babs barely allows him to fund tech for the Clocktower. At least Steph lets him pay for her tuition and uses his credit card to buy unholy amounts of Batburger. But that is hardly a drop in the ocean of Bruce’s wealth. And she won’t even accept a trust fund of only one million.

Jason wins for best-worst child though because he currently runs a very lucrative crime empire. And although he pours the vast, vast majority of his profits back into Crime Alley, whenever he gets a little too rich for his tastes, he dumps the money on Bruce. At this point, Bruce almost wishes he was being used for money laundering because then he’s at least not have the money.

So children—generous, kindhearted, stubborn till the day they die the little shits, children—are also out.

Bruce was funding the Justice League. But then finances were leaked, and the public had an outcry over one man holding so much sway over the world’s superheroes (nevermind Bruce is one of those superheroes—but the public can’t know that). So Bruce had to do some fancy PR trickery, concede to a policy of not receiving a majority of funds from one individual, and significantly decrease his contributions because no one could match his donations.

At his wits end, Bruce hires a team of accounts to search through every crinkle and crevice of tax law to find what loopholes or shortcuts can be avoided in order to pay his damn taxes to the MAX.

The results are horrifying. According to the strictest definition of the law, the government owes him money.

Bruce burns the report, buries any evidence as deeply as he can, and organizes a foundation to lobby for FAR higher taxation of the upper class.

All this, and Wayne Enterprises is happily chugging along, churning profit, expanding into new markets, growing in the stock market, and trying to force the credit and proportionate compensation on their increasingly horrified CEO.

Bruce Wayne is one of the richest men in the world. Bruce Wayne will never not be one of the richest men in the world.

But by GOD is he trying.

[books-and-catears]

Hey, Hey, Hey! It’s been a minute but I didn’t wanna spam ya with requests while you have life stuff to deal with ☺️

This is similar to my Savage!MC ask but the brothers reacting to MC snapping at them and defending Mammon before calling the brothers out whenever they go too hard on him. Let’s be real, Mammon just acts on his sin and gets punished but when Lucifer’s a prick and threatens MC; crickets.

When Beel eats everything and damn near causes everyone to starve as well as threw a tantrum and nearly injured MC over custard;everyone turns a blind eye.

Levi guilt trips and whine over the smallest things but says the worst insults to Mammon and tried to kill MC over TSL.

Asmo acts like he’s above everyone and prefers to tend to his looks than help others (such as during the castle tour) but he gets no scolding.

Belphie routinely harasses Luci with Satan (who loses his temper) AND they all either threatened/killed MC but should Mammon do anything, he’s the worst. Even though Mammon:

- Never threatened MC

- Does shit for his brothers when asked (he may joke of needing a grimm but he’s an Avatar of greed and still gets the job done)

- Is very loyal to them

- And is a good brother to take falls for them. He knows how to sacrifice for them and the slightest inconvenience gets him thrown under the bus

These guys ain’t shit and I wouldn’t wanna be around them until they learn how to treat him better and equally work on their flaws rather than rip on Mammon, who’s a whole ass victim despite being the second strongest brother who takes it because he genuinely loves his brothers yet gets shit on by them so much.

Ooh this savage MC has nothing but heart eyes for Mammon and it's adorable. Right this one is going to be angsty and it's going to sting. I'm doing this in a short story instead of a headcannon cause it just seems right that way. Hope that's okay?

It was just another one of those days Mammon tried to steal his brothers stuff and sell it again. Another day of being upside down and being laughed at. Normally he wouldn't care - it was the usual routine. But something seemed off this time.

"Mammon.. are you okay?" You approach him. He was rubbing his shoulders and arms as if to comfort the pain. He looked more tired and pained than usual.

"Ah I'm alright MC. Just the same old ya know?" He laughed. It sounded hollow yet it pierced your heart.

Enough. Enough of this. You weren't going to stand by and watch this happen again.

"You should rest." You place an arm on his shoulder and take him to his room. Making sure he's asleep, you leave. You have some problematic demons to deal with it.

"Ah MC? What brings you here? You seem rather disturbed." He asks as you storm into his study, fuming with anger.

"You tell me, you sadistic peacock." You had lost all sense of self-preservation and normalcy. Just echoing the rage in your brain.

"Excuse me?" Lucifer said, half-amused, half-shocked.

"Either you stop treating Mammon this way or I will make your life hell." You grit your teeth.

"I already have my brothers doing that what more will you do MC? Besides Mammon had it coming. He went stealing Levi's and Asmo's things again." Lucifer said nonchalantly.

"What do expect from the Avatar of Greed? He's just acting how he's cursed to. Just like the rest of you, nicompoops. Stop listening through the door and come inside." You said loudly.

The other brothers were still in the corridor nearby overhearing the whole thing. You could hear them gasp loudly at your boldness and scutter inside one by one.

"Now let me elaborate, so you rotten cucumbers understand me clearly." You cleared your throat.

Leviathan

"This little snake in tried to kill me because I may have known a little bit more about his favourite anime than him. Where's his punishment?" You point at Levi.

"MC I'm sorry...I couldn't help it was too new to me." Levi started. "But Mammon keeps stealing my things how is that fair-"

"And you keep throwing us into new kinds of disasters with your game hoarding problem."

"If you're still mad about the TSL incident I swear I take it all back-"

"Shut up snake, we know the reason. You're the Avatar of Envy. Getting jealous is your whole point. So you didn't get punished. Moving on..." Your finger now points to Satan. "This wild cat."

Satan

"He also threatened me cause I didn't want to make a pact with him. And when he actually flies off his handle, he wrecks his room and half the house down."

Satan seemed like he wanted to say something but he scowled and looked away.

"However I won't be too hard on him, cause he tries to keep his thing in check. And the whole reason he even has Wrath is because of Lucifer. So I get your hate towards Lucifer, but Mammon doesn't deserve any of it."

"MC you know I can't tolerate stupidity-" He grumbled.

"Oh must be hard looking in the mirror then, with all your failed pranks. And speaking of mirrors, this over- perfumed mannequin." You turn to Asmo.

Asmodeus

"How have I possibly hurt anyone MC? You know I stand for Love too right?" Asmo said, batting his pretty little eyes.

"For someone who stands for LOVE, if you can even call it that," You make a disgusted face, "You surely love making a mockery out of your elder brother and revel in his misery, you over- perfumed potato."

"But I never cause problems do I? Why must I be punished just for standing by?"

"Your high and mighty sense of worth is an illusion you live in. You dress up pretty and act social to validate yourself, trying to conceal the ugliness within. Truly you are nothing but Lust. Also you're the reason we almost got eaten by a giant snake." You shake your head. "Now speaking of eating..."

Beelzebub

"This giant food vaccum." You point to Beel. "He tried to eat me over a custard. Like excuse me? There's still plenty of food outside? And let's not forget that week we all had to eat cup ramen for a week cause he finished the whole pantry."

Beel softly muttered and apology and looked down.

"He even ate the walls and pillars once! Surely those renovations cost way more than however much Mammon steals? Where's his punishment?!"

"MC enough. He's sorry already." Beel's twin spoke up. You glared at him and smiled. "Don't worry I saved the best for last."

Belphegor

"This lazy murderous cow." You walk up to him slowly. "Not only does everyone have to your chores - you love causing chaos."

Belphie laughed, "That I do. But that's only with Lucifer. What else did I do?"

"Oh you want me to go there? I surely will." You say with a sting in your eye. "In your plan to avenge your sister, you killed what was left of her in the first timeline. And your brothers just stood by and watched. Where's your penance, you murder hornet?"

Belphie's eyes grew wide. Everyone looked shocked and uncomfortable. You never brought this up before now.

"But why bother asking you about it. I should be asking the ultimate punisher of this family." You turn to Lucifer.

Lucifer

"Ah! If it isn't Diavolo's pet dog! How is your master today? Does he treat you the way you treat Mammon? Is that why you come here to take your revenge on your little brother instead? Tell me Lucifer does Diavolo punish you then?"

"MC, I understand you maybe upset but you are crossing a line here." Lucifer stood up with a gutteral growl.

"Sit doggie. I didn't ask for you yet." You commanded. Lucifer sat back down as with great force. He stared at you flummoxed.

"Did you forget about the pacts already, you pompous goat? You have threatened and tried to kill me more than anyone else in this family so congratulations! I will use my pacts way more generously now." You mock bowed in gratitude.

"You might win in a fight against him but let me tell you this..." You stared back at the others.

"Mammon is the second strongest in this family. If he wanted to - if he REALLY wanted to, all of you would be turned to dust. He is stronger than all of you - but he hides it. He supresses his powers and his anger because he loves you too much. How could he ever hurt his little brothers?" You felt tears in your eyes at this point.

"AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY HIM? He's only acting on his sin! Just like the rest of you! Why must he be singled out and mocked at? I won't allow it. Never again."

"If you hurt Mammon again, I swear you will have to face me. And before you think you have a chance against me, do remember the pacts you all happily made with me I will not hesitate to use them against you dysfunctional lot-"

"MC... Stop." You felt Mammon hug you from behind.

"Mammon? I thought you were asleep." You say looking back at him. His tears were misty but his smile more full.

"And I thought I was supposed to protect ya, human! And you're out here protecting me..." Mammon trailed off and held you closer.

"We can protect each other."

[cerebrumrott]

Obey Me! Shall we Date?

Brothers x MC

Synopsis: Reaction to one of the other brothers insulting you

Lucifer

It had started out as a nice evening for once. Though of course that would never last with his brothers. Levi was at Mammon's throat all through dinner over some dumb figurine he was missing.

The argument quickly escalated into a full on screaming match, just as Lucifer was about to tell them both to shut up or take their pissing contest else where. You had chimed in asking them rather politely not to fight at the table.

Leviathan on his war path didn't stop to think before insults were thrown your way. "Shut up you worthless human and stay out of it for once!" Levi had snapped.

Everyone almost leapt out of their chairs in fear when Lucifer's fist loudly collided with the table silencing the room. "Leviathan you will apologize and go to your room." Lucifer said clearly a command and not a suggestion.

Levi now scared and embarrassed muttered a rushed apology to you before scampering away his tail literally tucked between his legs as he had been so startled by Lucifer's intervention that he had poofed into his demon form.

Once dinner was over Lucifer pulled you aside to ask if you were okay. With reassurance from you that you are indeed fine and didn't take anything that was said to heart he can go about his night without worry.

Mammon

It had been a rather stressful day for everyone in the house. Tensions were high and it resulted in Mammon acting as the punching bag for his younger siblings. Not that he really minded in all honesty as he knew they were just letting off steam and didn't mean anything they said.

Asmodeus was currently laying into him as the two sat in the living room. Mammon admittedly antagonizing Asmodeus into saying some particularly mean things as he just played stupid further annoying his little brother.

You had been an innocent bystander, sitting on the other side of the room just watching the whole spectacle before you whilst working on a school project. Mammon had something particularly weird in response to one of Asmo's outbursts which had pulled a small laugh out of you.

Though that had been enough for Asmodeus to turn his frustration on you in that moment. "Shut up you ugly bitch!" Asmodeus snapped but as soon as the words left his mouth the regret seeped into his features.

Mammon was far past playing now as he rose from his seat glaring down at Asmodeus. "Apologize Asmodeus." Mammon nearly shouted. Asmodeus was taking far too long for Mammon's taste to apologize and it was quickly angering him to the point he could feel his teeth grinding together.

Asmodeus quickly apologized to you after seeing how serious Mammon was before excusing himself. You weren't so much as hurt by the words as you were just taken aback by the sudden turn on you.

Mammon none the less joined you were you were sitting practically draping himself over you as he pulled you into his arms. "Don't worry MC the great Mammon is here there is no need to cry." "I'm not crying-" "Shhhh, it's okay." He would loudly hush you while smiling feeling better when he hears you laugh again.

Leviathan

He was sitting with you in your bedroom. Excitedly explaining the plot to this new game that was coming out and how it ties into the tv show it was based off of. Though Mammon who had been pacing around the room sulking was getting rather sick of Leviathan's consumption of your attention.

Mammon short on patience snaps at his brother urging to him to just shut up and get lost. Before Leviathan could retort for himself you had leapt to his defense.

"So what you are just as big of a loser as he is now?!" Mammon scoffed though the panic in his eyes was evident when he saw how upset Leviathan was at insulting his henry.

Leviathan literally hissed in anger at his brother as his tail lashed out behind him Demon form in full swing as he positioned himself between you and the idiot now backing up with his hands raised.

"N-Now Levi lets think about thi-" "Apologize and get out!" Leviathan roared his fangs bared to his idiot of a brother.

Mammon sputtered out an apology over his shoulder as he ran out of the room slamming the door behind him as Levi turned back to you. He spends the next ten minutes making sure you are okay.

"Levi I promise I'm fine." "Are you sure?" "I'm sure." "Are you sure you're sure?" "Levi please..."

Satan

Satan had been sorting through his collection in the library when you joined him. One thing led to another and now the two of you were working on using one of the spare bookshelves to turn it into your own little reading nook where Satan could put books he wanted you to read and you could easily browse your way through them.

Things were going swimmingly if Satan had to say so himself. He was happily chattering about books he thought you would like and was even more excited when you suggested a few for him to read himself.

The two of you so engrossed in the world you had formed between the two of you had forgotten that Belphegor was attempting to nap on the couch.

Satan had handed you a book and was beaming down at you as you exclaimed excitedly starting to explain how this was one of your childhood favorites when Belphegor yelled out in frustration.

The rage in Belphegor was painfully clear to Satan as his younger brother sat up suddenly glaring at the two of you with irritation.

"MC Do you not know when to shut your damned mouth!" Belphegor snapped as he stood to leave in a fury. Though he hadn't taken more than a few steps when Satan's roar made him turn back in fear.

Satan was unable to hold himself back as he flew forward tackling his younger brother to the ground his weight driving the air from Belphegor's lungs. The two wrestled for a moment both now in their Demon forms lashing out at each other, Belphegor attempting to throw Satan off of him by kicking out and scratching him with his thorn laced tail. This did nothing more than anger Satan further as he screamed pulling back his arm to punch Belphegor right in his face.

Satan was a half a second from caving Belphegor's head in when he felt you throw yourself on him arms wrapped around his neck as you asked him to stop.

He hesitated a moment as he listened to your pleas. Belphegor used this opportunity to squirm out from under Satan bolting from the room with a speed that was unlike the avatar of sloth. Satan would have laughed had he not still been boiling inside.

Rather than chase down his brother he instead turned to you holding you against his chest as he took many, many deep breaths until finally the calm returned to him and he could look down at you without seeing red.

"Thank you for standing up for me but please don't murder the others for me." "Not even a little?"

Asmodeus

Asmodeus had acted on instinct as he felt his arm snap out from his side his hand cracking across his brothers face. Even when his brother turned to look at him with a devastated look he couldn't help the anger seeping from him.

Asmo had spent the morning with you helping to assemble a new wardrobe for you with outfits more suited to devildom weather. Seeing as much of the clothing in majolish was designed with demon physic in mind, you had grown a bit timid in some of your choices.

Asmodeus was having none of that, wanting to show you how beautiful you are insisted on a mini fashion show in his room.

You had been loving it so far. Asmo taking special time to pull you in front of his full size mirror and point out all the best parts of you and your clothes. He was also quite enjoying the snuggling and cuddling between outfit changes.

You were trying on your last outfit, one you had been openly against initially due to its sheer fabric and open back. While in the bathroom changing, Asmo took the time to fold up your purchases slipping in a few shirts of his own for you to add to your collection that he thought you would like.

When Mammon let himself in...

The second oldest threw the door open striding in going on about something about Asmo hoarding you all to himself just as you stepped out from the bathroom shyly showing off your new shirt.

Before Asmo could throw Mammon out by the scruff he turned to look at you and snorted upon seeing what you were wearing.

"MC, How can you let Asmo do that to you? Don't you feel stupid dressed up like some old geezer?" Mammon teased not at all seeing the effect it had on you. Asmo could feel his heart clench as he saw your face fall.

"You don't like it?" "I mean MC you look like one of the pirate people from the movies you had us watching." Mammon laughed as Asmo stepped forward glaring up at him

"That's enough out of you, get out." Asmo snapped motioning towards the door as mammon gave him a confused expression

"So you can let MC walk around looking stupid? I don-" Mammon wasn't able to finish his sentence as Asmo's arm snapped out slapping Mammon across the face.

The impact sounded much worse than it truly was as Mammon stared down at his younger brother in surprise.

"Don't you dare say such things to MC when you dress like a total slob half the time! They will be taking no mind to the words of a fool like you!" Asmodeus all but growled as he grabbed Mammon by the collar of his shirt and tossed him out of his room.

Asmodeus was absolutely fuming as he walked back to you pulling you into his arms and snuggling you against him.

"Don't you listen to a single word that come out of that idiots mouth do you hear me? He wouldn't know a thing about beauty if it hit him upside the head." "You did just slap him Asmo." "My point exactly! He still couldn't see how dazzling you look!"

Beelzebub

The two of you had been cooking dinner in the kitchen. Really it was Beel's turn to cook but he couldn't be trusted not to just eat it all before serving it so you were on babysitting duty.

Even though it wasn't your turn to do anything you still insisted on helping Beelzebub with chopping and prepping things while he took care of the more labor intensive tasks.

Whilst working Asmodeus had made his way into the kitchen to get himself something to drink. You had yet to notice him as you were too focused on kneading dough to realize the brother was walking behind you. It was only when you suddenly whipped around with a handful of dough and splattered the avatar of lust across the chest that you realized your mistake.

The shriek that came out of Asmodeus startled Beel from his own work turning back just in time to see the anger flash across his older brother's face seeing his shirt was ruined.

"MC why is it that you can never do the simplest of things right?! Are you stupid!?" Asmodeus had snapped letting his anger over take his thoughts. Too busy trying to clean his shirt he didn't notice the tears welling in your eyes, but Beelzebub did.

"Asmo, you know it was an accident so apologize for yelling at them." Beel said sternly coming over to look down on his older brother.

"I think not! Look at the state of my shirt!" Asmo huffed only now glancing up to see you wiping the tears from your eyes with the corner of your apron.

"Asmodeus, Say your sorry." Beel urged as Asmodeus pouted pulling you into his arms.

"I'm sorry MC I lost my temper and I didn't mean it." Asmo apologized and Beel beamed down at the two of you happy that you two had made up.

"Group hug!" Beelzebub announced as he was already wrapping his arms around the two of you and squeezing

Belphegor

Belphie had decided that today was going to be a day just for the two of you. With enough snacks and drinks hoarded up in the attic to keep even Beelzebub sated. He stole you away early in the morning content to snooze the day away with you at his side.

It was nearing mid day when Belphegor was roused from his nap. He was still curled into your side as he opened his eyes seeing you trying to have a whispered conversation with Lucifer who was looming over the bed with a sour expression.

"Seriously MC now is not the time to be wasting about when you have work to be doing. Now get up and stop being so lazy, You think you would know better than to-" Lucifer ranted his voice slowly raising in timber as he grew more heated.

Belphegor felt his own temper flare just from hearing Lucifer's voice but then knowing he was harassing you sent it over the edge. Belphegor couldn't help the growl that started in his throat his demon form appearing before he himself could register it.

Without rising from the bed he felt the thorns on his tail bristle as he wrapped it around you barricading you from his older brother.

"Go away..." Belphegor grumbled glaring up at Lucifer through his bangs. Clearly not wanting to deal with Belphegor's attitude Lucifer simply sneered and strode off making a few remarks as he left though Belphegor ignored them preferring to you you down into his arms.

"Ignore him he doesn't know anything..." Belphegor yawned tucking your head under his chin. He could feel the dwindling tension in your shoulders as he pulled you close. Rubbing his hand in circles on your back he felt the unease slowly slip from you before he himself slipped into sleep.

He admits he may be over reacting with this next part but Lucifer's already poor sleep may be just take a nose dive with the ideas he was cooking up.

[voiceless-terror]

Love your writing and hope you are doing well! My weirdly specific prompt is: Jon and Martin (or whoever) and disastrous trip to the grocery store.

Post 200 Bliss, Grocery Stylez

“Martin!”

“Jon! I’m over here.” Within a few seconds, Jon is jogging down the aisle towards Martin, breathing heavily as he tries to balance the overloaded basket in his arms. 

“Thank God,” he pants, hair falling from his messy bun and almost obscuring his eyes. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“You’ve been gone for two minutes, and I told you I’d stay here,” Martin replies with fond amusement, taking the basket from his hands and almost stumbling with it’s heavy weight. “Wait, why did you get like, twenty cans? How did you carry this?”

“I have some strength, I’ll have you know,” Jon sniffs, though his arms are clearly shaking from strain. “It’s soup. You can’t go wrong with soup.”

“We still haven’t finished any of the chicken noodle we have at home.” Martin recalls the ten or so nondescript cans sitting in the back of their cupboard, untouched. They’re the easy open kind too, with the tab at the top, so Jon wouldn’t have to struggle with a can opener. 

“Well, these are tomato and basil. It’s different.” Jon insists, gesturing emphatically to the basket before putting a hand on his hip. If Martin had realized how difficult this was going to be, he would’ve left Jon at home. They’d already left ‘at the wrong time, Martin, everyone goes on a Saturday, it’ll be so crowded’ and parked in a ‘terrible spot, Martin, right by the carts, we’ll be lucky if we don’t get a dent in the car.’

But he would never leave Jon alone anymore. Not willingly. 

Martin had done most of the grocery shopping in their three weeks at the cottage, and Jon was happy with whatever he brought home, too caught up in the euphoria of their reunion. Hell, Martin probably would’ve eaten canned peaches if it meant staying there with Jon forever.

But this isn’t the safehouse. This isn’t even their reality. It’s somewhere else, and Jon is trying to hoard soup.

“We don’t need twenty cans of different.” Martin pulls a couple of out of the basket and into his cart, handing the rest back to Jon. “And we don’t have the room for it.”

Jon gives him a scowl but does as he’s told, marching back to the other aisle. Martin stays put so as not to worry him, and goes back to ruminating over how many eggs they’ll need for the next week. Maybe just the one pack? 

“We never finished the pack at home,” Jon’s back at his side, holding a bag of crisps and completely fine with giving Martin a heart attack, it would seem. “They’ve got a few weeks in them yet. Expiration dates are rubbish.”

He shoots him a half-hearted glare that melts into a smile as soon as he sees what’s in his hand. “Ooh, you got my favorite-”

“Because I love you.” Jon says, placing the bag delicately atop the canned goods. He’s very adamant about how things should go in the cart, immediately correcting Martin’s more haphazard placements. One of the few things my nan instilled in me, besides good manners, Jon had joked, and promptly hit Martin when he eyed him dubiously. “And I didn’t want you to have to double back, even though you’re the one who insisted on starting at the wrong side of the grocery store.”

“There is no wrong side of the grocery store-”

“There is, and we’re on it.”

“For fuck’s sake-” Martin grabbed the cart and moved to back it up, forgetting the cardboard display directly behind him and knocking the impressive amount of tupperware it housed to the floor. He ignores Jon’s snort and drops to his knees with a grumble. It takes a full five minutes to clean up, and Jon is no help whatsoever, smiling and pretending to be completely immersed in egg prices. Prick.

The rest of the trip is much of the same. Martin wants to get bagels. Jon insists the fresh ones from the shop next door are much better. Jon tortures him by throwing a box of oolong in with his PG tips. They spend a good twenty minutes in the snack aisle while Jon has a breakdown over the spelling of ‘Jammy Dodgers’ (It was always spelled ‘Jammie’ in our world, wasn’t it? Am I remembering that correctly, Martin? I don’t like this one bit!) and whether it’s safe to eat them. Martin makes a mental note to get them out of the house more often - Jon’s worked himself into quite the state over biscuits, of all things. But it’s when they get to the last aisle that Jon audibly gasps, a hand flying to his chest as a look of horror dawns on his face. Martin immediately begins to fret, assuming the worst.

“What is it? Is it the Eye? Jon-”

“Such an idiot.” Jon groans, throwing the five or so spices he’d been holding into the cart with a flourish, almost destroying the delicate balance he’d maintained thus far. “We don’t have a Super Savers Card.”

“...What?”

“All of these items are on sale, but only if we have the discount card.” Jon gestures at a Buy One, Get One Free! sign below the paper plates. Martin rolls his eyes, attempting to calm his racing heart.

“I’m sure it’s fine. It’s not going to make that much of a difference-”

“We aren’t made of money, Martin- it’s not like we’ve got Lukas’s credit card anymore.” Ah, those were the days. “This is ridiculous. I suppose I’ll have to sign us up, you finish here.” He heaves what is supposed to be a long-suffering sigh, but walks towards the customer service desk with a little too much pep in his step to really sell it. Jon loves paperwork. And dramatics.

It only takes him a few minutes to grab the napkins and other necessities, and by the time he’s done Jon’s waving him over to self-checkout, bouncing on his feet with the card in hand. “Did you get the-”

“Good napkins? Of course.” He learned that lesson a few weeks ago, when Jon spilled water all over the counter and lamented their ‘non-absorbent paper towels, you can’t skimp on quality!’ He watches as Jon swipes the card along the scanner and begins to unload the cart. It’s nice, these little mundane moments. No matter how irritating Jon can be, he’s just happy to see him alive and whole and snarking about produce. Months ago he wouldn’t have thought it possible but here they are, doing the weekly shop. It’s kind of fun. 

He balks at the price tag, but Jon was right- the card did take a bit off. They aren’t making much money, barely scraping by with Martin’s part time job and their shitty little flat, but they’re making it work. He feeds the machine a few banknotes and it spits out a receipt, the screen lighting up with one final message.

Thank you for shopping with us, Martin K. Blackwood!

He looks up to see Jon failing to hide a smirk. Little bastard. 

It’s a good thing Jon likes his soup so much, Martin thinks to himself as he’s loading up the car and Jon returns the cart. Because tonight I’ll be getting takeaway for one.

He never follows through on that threat, though he does change the name on the card a few months later. Martin Blackwood-Sims, he tells the clerk at the service desk, the small black box burning a hole in his pocket. She smiles, offers her congratulations. 

It’s got a nice ring to it.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30477435

[solomonish]

Solomon Headcanons

I didn’t like my old headcanons for him and I think I have a slightly better feel for him so I’m posting these bad boys. Maybe at this rate I’ll just post Solomon HCs every month 

Also this turned into more of a “I’m going to talk about Solomon in depth and maybe throw in one headcanon about kissing him” and is no longer “lol what kind of dates do you go on? <3″ so uh. do with that what you will. It’s also SUPER LONG (or feels that way) so make sure you have a hot second to read them

you can find my for real headcanons for him here but I don’t necessarily stand by them anymore? They’re just there for fun now lol

Solomon’s Relationship With Relationships

Solomon has been alive for...a long time, and with that naturally comes a lot of experiences, negative and positive. It’s also natural that it would also have him break out of traditional structures regarding...everything, but especially things regarding relationships and specific other people.

(Not to get sociological or philosophical about society or whatever, but the way we view everything is accented heavily by the end. With exceptions, and this certainly varies from culture to culture, but as a general idea, we view things expecting them to take place over the span of 70-100 years. Certain positions in politics or business or something try to look at things generationally, but how capable of that are we and how far ahead can we truly see?)

(What I mean to say is that immortality naturally shifts the entire context in which you would view things that were expected to be “lifelong.” What once existed to enrich a life is now a tether to a system that doesn’t necessarily suit his existence.)

Psychologically, however.....I don’t think Solomon has tried to (or even can) rewire himself entirely to the point where he doesn’t feel love. He’s already got a fondness for Simeon and Luke (always crying about him calling them “dear friends” in the circus event i don’t know if he says anything in the lessons because i’m only on like 21 LOL) so he’s clearly capable of fondness and affection.

Not that those should equate exactly to romantic feelings (because they shouldn’t), but there’s undeniable similarities between platonic and romantic affection and, for the purposes of speculating about an immortal’s capability to still feel both, I think they can be equated in this regard.

There are a lot of assumptions I’m making about him to make this post, namely the following: that there is still reconciling to be done internally between his immortality and humanity, that Solomon’s composed and confident nature is a bit of a front (only a bit - I’ll explain more later), and, related to these two, that he even cares about humanity and that he still wants to preserve his humanity.

While this might be my perspective as a regular human, I really don’t believe that the desire to be human and fully encompass what that means has left. If anything, I think his intrinsic desire for knowledge and power stems from it, and he’s just suppressed the “mushier” emotional parts of that as a sort of....defense mechanism, if you will.

SO the tl;dr of this is that you know how alloromantic people just like feel in love and they get their romantic crushes and it’s natural and they can’t control it? Solomon gets that! He just isn’t the type to swoon over someone or really make it known.

He also as a person is big on being manipulative shady and in control, so if he were to just be super obvious about having a crush on someone and not being able to do anything about it, that would sort of tarnish his whole image.

So yeah, I think Solomon just has his emotions on a tight leash when they probe to be out of control. Clearly, he doesn’t have every part of him under this sort of watchful eye (whether that’s because he still wants to feel genuine happiness or he knows if he came across as emotionless and calculated people would trust him even less, I haven’t decided), but those that cause trouble stay behind locked doors.

Additionally, I don’t think Solomon is opposed to falling in love. I’d bet he’s had lots of different partners over the years and remembers them fondly (you know, assuming they ended well)

I also think his immortal status makes dating different? I feel like doesn’t really date to find a life partner because. well. (gestures).

That’s not to say that he doesn’t date casually sometimes or something. In the terms of a serious romantic partnership, though, it’s rare that it happens because he knows that it’ll die with them (and stay within him for probably forever, even if/when there comes a day he can no longer remember their name or their face).

Another assumption I’m making that I forgot to mention: I think it’s rare that Solomon’s serious, long-term partners know the true extent of the magic he dabbles in. Maybe he lets them know it’s real magic, or he pretends it’s all show magic and parlor tricks. Sometimes he pretends his pact marks are tattoos, sometimes he tells the truth. If ever these confessions are laughed off, he laughs them off too and creates a cover story.

He doesn’t intend to lie, but it’s very difficult to meet someone and explain........all of THAT. On which date to you mention that you can control 72 demons? Do you send a card explaining how you’ve been alive since Biblical times and you’re not even sure if you birthday is your real birthday anymore, let alone how old you are? And should that card be store bought or homemade?

So while it’s rare for Solomon to have a serious romantic partnership, it’s even more rare for him to be entirely understood or accepted for EVERYTHING that he is because he can’t get into it. Arguably, that hasn’t happened since his “death” in his original timeline.

A crush for Solomon isn’t a hopeless affair, either. Should you choose someone else, he’ll allow himself the disappointment and move on.

With Solomon, romantic love sparks naturally, but genuine true love isn’t some all-powerful, unstoppable force. He falls more in line with the people who believe it’s a choice and a decision, somewhere between “it’s purely a biological impulse we just gave a fancy name” and “it’s the magic that makes life more enjoyable”

With MC

In the case of MC, however, I think he might initially see it as bothersome or a hinderance to whatever his plan is with being down there for the exchange program. Maybe he convinces himself he’s just naturally attracted to you because you’re human like him. Once he comes to terms with his feelings and gets to know MC a bit more, he might even see it as a lost cause seeing as you already have several of the brothers vying for your affections.

For Solomon to act on a crush that he’s already decided is hopeless, it’ll be up to the MC to show that THEY are interested in HIM

He finds no particular pleasure in being someone who is chased after or “playing hard to get,” but he already has a complicated relationship with complicated relationships. He’s gonna need a down payment of affection a sign that there’s anything even there to pursue 

Traditional flirting, while he’ll have his fun with it (and probably enjoy it at least a little - who doesn’t like feeling desirable?), doesn’t really work for him. Lots of people and creatures have used it to try and charm him, plus he has a pact with Asmo, so at this point he really sees it as more casual fun then an indication of true interest.

Honestly, to get him to realize “oh shit I actually have a chance,” you’re going to have to do two main things: 1) make him feel chosen over the others, and 2) respond to his displays of affection

Making Him Feel Chosen

This isn’t really a competition thing, or some selfish hoarding of your time. The thing is, Solomon knows he isn’t the only one in the running and he knows that anything he has to offer, somebody else could give you a portion of it.

(You won’t get the same experience or combination of traits with somebody else obvi, but with 11 suitors and an added chihuahua, there tends to be a little bit of overlap with everyone)

A crush for Solomon is a romantic interest, but if he intends on pursuing a serious relationship (which, I feel, is what he intends to be the final goal of his crushes as opposed to more casual affairs), he needs to see SOME reciprocation

Being with him is an ordeal, maybe a lifelong one for you, so he needs that assurance that it’ll be worth it and there aren’t better avenues

Basically, this means that ✨ quality time ✨ is of the utmost importance

At first, it doesn’t have to be anything big. Sit with him at lunch when you see him in the cafeteria, meet him in the library while you wait for your demon escort to be finished with their extracurriculars, chat him up in the one class you have together (and then ask him to help you study what you missed in class by talking. it’s a required transfer class but you already know everything about it, right, Solomon? 🥺)

As your relationship progresses, that’s when things start to get harder. Invite him out to things that you think he’ll enjoy, and say yes to as many excursions with him as you can. Bonus points for making it clear that you want to go when you’re unable to attend. 

(He finds himself a little embarrassed how happy it makes him when instead of just a “no” or a “sorry, not today” he gets something like “I’m on dinner duty so I have to spend that time preparing :( but we should definitely make a date so you can tell me about it later!” It makes him feel like a priority.)

It isn’t until you find yourself comfortable enough to ask him to accompany you to something you want to do that he starts to realize you’re hanging out with him for him and not because he’s just offering up a bunch of fun new experiences for you to try.

You don’t even have to say “hey, i’m pretty sure you know all about the birds in the Devildom aviary but I haven’t had a chance to go and would really like to spend the day with you. Wanna come with?” If it’s something that he knows you know isn’t in his wheelhouse, he’ll be able to figure out that OH.....you’re inviting him for HIM.....oh

Make him feel like a priority, like he’s the one that you want, even out of all your choices. You can be as enthralled by the birds in that aviary as you want, just as long as you make it clear that your enthusiasm to be with him is on the same level and he’ll finally kick himself into gear.

Responding to His Affections

Now, you don’t have to do anything you don’t like. I hear in his dame card devilgram he’s a consent king, and he stands by that every day of the week

He also isn’t the type to need an exact equal to everything he does. Yes a relationship is a two way street, but this isn’t saying that if he gets you a gift you need to present him something with equal or greater value within the next 24 hours. he’s not mammon haha i’m so FUNNY

Just...let him know that he’s doing things right. His serious relationships are few and far between and people change as often as the times do, so make sure that he knows what he’s doing is landing. He’s not insecure per se, but he would like to know that he isn’t making a fool of himself entirely, you know?

Don’t brush him off in front of the brothers or he’ll think he’s read the situation all wrong and you’re back to square one. If you do it because you don’t like touching and he put an arm around your shoulder or something, that’s fine, but if he thinks you’re uncomfortable being with him in front of the brothers he’ll wonder if you even liked him at all.

To him, a secret relationship isn’t really feasible. First of all, those brothers are ALWAYS in your business so bold of you to think you’ll have ANY secrets by the time the exchange program is done, and secondly, don’t you both have enough on your plate that you shouldn’t make something that makes you happy needlessly complicated?

He is an odd case and knows there’s a lot that comes with him, so if you’re uncomfortable simply showing that you’re in a relationship and reciprocating, he’ll think you aren’t equipped to handle.....All That.

In case you haven’t noticed, he’s weird. He’s a weirdo. He doesn’t fit in. And he doesn’t want to fit in. Have you ever seen him without that stupid cape on? That's weird.

If you respond to his affections in a similar way, such as putting you arm around his waist or a hand on his back when he puts an arm around your shoulder or reaching up to fix his hair when he reaches to mess with yours, it’ll make him happy for sure. He doesn’t have any specific expectations for you but he’ll like to feel like you’re on the same wavelength.

A lot of his affections are morphed into specific and targeted teasing (but not like *gently bullies u* teasing). It’s a lot of inside jokes at your expense (and the more inside jokes he has, the more he probably likes you)

It’s also a lot of messing up your hair, sharp pokes and frustrating games like “guess what?” “i don’t know, what?” “i told you to guess, MC.” “ugh...you won the lottery” “guess better” “please don’t do this to me Solomon”

He probably responds best to Acts of Service and Quality Time (though at any stage in the relationship he’s a flexible man). While he’s trying to woo you to solidify his spot in first place against everyone else, if you continue to make the effort to be around him or like. recognize he’s taking time out of his day to romance you and do something for him in return he’ll cement the fact that oh yeah, this is happening between the two of you

(not to say that romancing you is a chore, because it’s not, but man if it doesn’t make him happy that you’re wanting to make his life easier on him so he can pursue the other things he enjoys, too.)

What a Relationship with Solomon is Like

He isn’t the biggest person on PDA, or at least not on purpose. He won’t see you and immediately be like ‘oh there they are i need to kiss them kiss kiss kiss’ or whatever, but he’s not averse to it?

He doesn’t want physical affection to be a big deal, or at least not in public. unless that’s what you’re into ;) If the two of you are out and about and you kiss his hand, or you’re a generally physically affectionate person he’ll smile and respond and be generally unbothered by it, but don’t expect him to ever really have the desire to like make out in public or something. Really, you probably won’t get much more than a quick kiss because he DOES always have other things on his mind.

You will NOT be able to get out of him messing with you. If you need him to tone it down that’s fine, but the more you let him get away with, the less energy he’ll have to redirect into other troublemaking activities

Has a weird thing with licking too probably? like he’s not gross about it and it’s not like a NSFW fixation but he’ll do that mom thing where he licks his thumb because “you’ve got something on your cheek” and then reveal that he’s a LIAR

or he’ll put his face really close to yours and stick his tongue out when you turn your head so it hits your cheek

it just gets such a DRAMATIC reaction out of you so that’s why he does it? if you ask him genuinely to stop he will but if you comment on it he’ll just give you a small smile and not say anything then continue to do it

when he messes with you, it’s ok if you say he’s doing something weird but don’t make him feel childish. setting boundaries (and making regular observations - he is kinda weird) is more than alright but admonishing him just feels......off and will turn him sour for a bit

VERY appreciative of someone who supports his adventurous side. Also fond of someone who’s happy to tag along but knows that some things he has to do on his own.

Even if you don’t want to go, he’ll appreciate the support or the interest you show in what he does. Ask him where he’s going and what he’s doing there, but ask him because you’re interested and not because you’re overly worried.

Please be there for him when he gets back to talk about it. He really likes feeling important or cool when he tells his tales, even if all he did was go and catch a few magic salamanders or something.

PLEASE be a soundboard for all of his ideas. He knows that sometimes he’ll talk about things that are way over your head that he hasn’t learned yet, but he really does want your undivided attention. It doesn’t matter if you’re encouraging him, debating with him, telling him the idea is stupid (though don’t pull this one too often unless you intend to ask to be let in to the fun) or just watching in confusion. It’s important to him that you value what he has to say, and he hopes one day that he’ll be able to tell you anything and you’ll have a response to it all. (Even if you don’t learn magic to the degree he knows it, he hopes you’ll get to a point where you understand what he wants, even if you don’t know what magical elements he’s talking about or something.)

A relationship with Solomon is one where you’re both independent, but also can’t imagine not going to the other at the end of the day. It’s startling how quickly you become constant in the other’s life despite being in COMPLETELY different stages of magical development and learning about the demon world.

The relationship will be lots of fun, but there will be many serious moments, too. 

They’ll happen randomly. Maybe something from a class or a spell reminds him of something from his past, or maybe he’s reminded that he can’t remember so many things that he knows were important to him.

Sometimes, his Tuesday night blues will feel like a life-changing existential crises for you, but please, do what you can to be there for him in these moments. It worries him how much love and happiness he’s lost, especially when he knows he promised to remember it.

Once you get him to think aloud, he’ll say super heavy stuff life “What if I’ve forgotten who I really am and now I’m just something other people and magic have morphed me into?” or “When will the human race evolve or go extinct and leave me behind?” and it fucks you up, really. It fucks him up too

But please be patient with him, because there’s something important he has to get off his chest eventually. He’s worried already that he’ll forget you the way he’s probably forgotten so many others, but he doesn’t want to offend you and know that saying it would come off as uncaring.

You won’t have an answer for these moments, and he knows it. It’ll be best if you just hold him tight, stroke his hair if you’re laying down, and reassure him that you don’t care.

With how long he’s been alive, you’ll have to get past caring if you’re his “one true love” because he doesn’t have that. He gave up the right to having a one true love in exchange for never-ending life. But he still loves and he does love deeply, it just has a lot to cut through to properly be articulated.

So tell him. Tell him you know he’s had other loves, that you know you might not even be the best partner suited to him that he’s had. Tell him that you know when your time has come, he’ll find someone else eventually.

Tell him that what matters to you is that he loves you now, that he’s making things work with you now, and that he isn’t secretly yearning for some lover that’s come to pass or yet to come when he’s with you.

You can’t control what happened in the past or what happens in the future, but right now he’s yours and you’re his and he needs to learn to take things one lifetime at a time. Right now is YOUR Solomon time, and what happens after is just a consequence of time and you’ve already forgiven him for it.

instead of “mom says it’s my turn on the xbox” it’s “god says it’s MY turn on the Solomon”

send that to him for real and he’ll probably never forget you lol

How to Make a Relationship with Solomon Work

With all this in mind, the key to a good relationship with Solomon is keeping his head on his shoulders.

He’s ambitious, powerful, scary smart, and capable of so much more than you can even guess and he knows it. It’ll be good for him to have somebody to keep him on the ground.

Now, don’t be overbearing. If you try to stop him from going places or try to hinder his pursuit of knowledge out of fear for his safety, that’ll cause unbelievable strain on him. You will have to learn to let him work his things out the way he wants to, and it won’t always be the safest or most responsible way either.

He doesn’t mind a gentle scolding if he gets hurt. He won’t say it, but he kinda likes to be reminded how important he is to you.

Also be down to have fun and be a little reckless. Your safety will always be a priority to him, but nobody ever got anywhere without a little struggle, right? Sometimes adventuring with him and following him into the darkest magical corners of the world will require multiple (sometime literal) leaps of faith, but he’ll always be there to catch you.

Let Solomon work for you and the relationship, and you work to keep him sane and remind him that he can belong somewhere, even when he’s been himself for who knows how long and nowhere ever really stays the same.

You’ll always have to remind Solomon that not everything revolves around magic and power. He’s not been mortal for some time, so he gets caught up in the heady and lofty topics and ideas. 

Remind him about the simple joys of just having fun and goofing off, that not every moment not spent on homework has to be spent on potions. Remind him (in the human world) how cool a sunset is, or convince him to go through a museum and pretend he’s seeing everything for the first time. 

As much as he lives for understanding the grand topics most people can only dream of beginning to grasp, remind him of the little things. Remind him of human indulgences that he’s abandoned. Get him back in touch with that part of himself.

Solomon as a character feels like he’d be really aloof, but he’s honestly extremely devoted to what he invests his time in. He shows this devotion in small ways that feel more like riddles sometimes, in the way he always comes back after a rather dangerous magical excursion, in the way he shortens his time away so he can get back to you, in the way he learns to quiet his mind so he can properly take care of you and what you need and strengthen your relationship.

One thing that I think is a hallmark of a relationship with him is that Solomon loves things that can teach him more about what he doesn’t know. You don’t need to be the smartest person on the planet, or have a specialized and thorough education in some bizarre topic, or come from somewhere entirely different than what he knows to keep his interest.

You are uniquely human, and you help teach him about himself, the one thing that he can never seem to properly grasp and understand the way he wants to.

More importantly, you are you, the one who made pacts with all seven demon lords, the one captured his heart and promised to take care of it when you could throw it away for anybody else.

And you are the only one who could say those words that he believes. Hopefully, you’ll believe him when he says them, too.

[sulphuryasecretcloset]

His little sister and her big brother

They’re eating a late dinner in their room. Raga is drowning her plate with spices while Paz patiently tries to get food into his mouth with his right hand while his left hand is being tugged and manoeuvred about as Liita chews her own food and studies his clunky, old vambrace.

Half of his haul falls off his fork as Liita abruptly turns his hand again to eye where the fuel tube connects to the metal. She’s clearly not pleased with the emergency repair she had to do the last time it fell apart. 

“I don’t get why you don’t just replace this vambrace. It’s complete crap.” Liita says.

Raga pauses in her spice-mayhem and looks at Paz. She knows why.

Paz shrugs and dives back in with his fork to get a decent pile on it again. “I like it.” He lies and quickly shoves his food into his mouth before she makes him drop it again.

“One day that tube is going to fail mid-battle and you’re going to explode into a ball of fire.” Liita grumbles, turning his hand again. “Idiot.”

Paz chews, pulls his hand free and flicks a finger at her forehead. He grins at her angry flail and lets her have his hand again to keep fidgeting and complaining about the vambrace.

Raga goes back to eating as well.

-

It’s disgustingly early the day Paz stalks around and looks for his grey t-shirt with growing frustration as time is running out. “Are you sure you didn’t take it?” He opens a drawer.

“I’m sure.” Raga snaps in a voice tight with irritation as she waits for him to finish packing.

Paz slams a drawer shut and straightens to stare at her. “Well, it’s not here.”

“Well, I didn’t take it.” She counters, with a touch of anger now.

Paz’ eyes narrow. He knows she loves that grey t-shirt, loved it from the second he acquired it during their teenage years (The fabric had been pitch black back then.) and that ever since; she has hoarded and worn this particular shirt more than he has. But he also knows that she wouldn’t lie about taking it and if he pushes her any more, she will punch him in the face.

Grumbling, Paz grabs another shirt and stuffs it into his bag. Fine. He’ll find it when they get back from their mission.

And he does.

“I got you the part you wa…” Paz comes to an abrupt next to the ship Liita is working on, currently parked outside the Covert, and he sees her climb out of the hammock in the cargo hold. She has a sleepy look on her face and her skinny frame is wearing his missing grey t-shirt. (Which is ridiculously big on her.) “Hey. That’s my shirt!”

“Yeah. I know.” Liita yawns and walks over to grab the engine part he’s holding and he’s too surprised to keep her from taking it. “This looks mint. Thanks.”

“I was looking for that shirt.” Paz says, frustrated. “I accused Raga of taking it.”

“That was stupid of you.” Liita says, walking away while studying the piece in her hand.

“I want my shirt back!” Paz shouts.

“I bet if I ask Dad, he’ll say I can keep it.” Is her smug reply and Paz blinks. Oh, that little troll…

“It’s my shirt!”

He does get the shirt back, but only in time for Raga to steal it. Him whining, ahem, complaining about it only ends in Raga pushing her chest forward, smiling and sweetly asking if she doesn’t look good in it and he kind of forgets what he was complaining about…

-

It’s raining when Paz is playing a board game with a friend and Liita walks into the Covert.

She sheds her raincover and walks over to where they are sitting. “For the record, he asked for it.”

Paz keeps his gaze on the board. “What happened?”

“I was working on the ship.”

Paz’ friend moves a piece and Paz calculates his options. “Uh huh?” He moves his piece. “And?”

“And I noticed several of my tools were gone. Again.” Liita grits her teeth and crosses her arms. “I told Drallah not to touch my stuff. Those were brand new and expensive. Dad got me those.”

“Mhm.” Paz says, watching as his friend’s hand hover over the pieces while trying to decide which move to make next. “And then what happened?”

“I went over to his place, found him and my stuff.”

“What did you do?”

Liita shrugs. “I took one of the wrenches and smacked him across both of his poleyns. Once he’d stopped wailing and squirming around on the ground, I told him next time I’d do it without him wearing his armor.”

Eyes still on the board, Paz raises his hand towards her, palm up, and waits for her to high-five him.  She does. “That’s my sister.” He says, then returns all of his focus on the game again while she wanders off.

-

One day Liita is sitting on the bed, calmed by Raga braiding her hair as usual, and she frowns at the sight of Paz removing his helmet after joining them in the room.

“Your hair is growing out.” Liita states. “You’re all fluffy.”

“Yup.” Paz replies, running his hand through the flattened locks, ruffling it a little, and savours the predatory look in Raga’s eyes.

“Why would you-” Liita then wrinkles her nose with disapproval and glares at him. “Stop it. You’re being gross.” She elbows Raga. “You too.”

Raga cackles and Paz deliberately lingers on how much he loves that sound and how beautiful she looks…

“Stop!” Liita clamps her hands over her ears, trying in vain to block out the feelings he’s emitting as if they were sound waves.

Paz tilts his head, sees the growing grin on Raga’s face as she realizes what he’s doing and feels a hot pulse in his blood when she waggles her eyebrows quite suggestively at him.

They both burst into laughter when Liita breaks and makes a run for the door with a frustrated shout.

-

It’s an entirely unremarkable day when Liita enters the room and Paz barely looks up from his datapad. Raga is in the shower, nothing interesting is planned for the day and he’s just lazing about.

Liita climbs into bed and shuffles over to sit nearby him, but she doesn’t say anything.

As silence is nothing new when it comes to her, it takes a while before Paz glances over. But once he does; he instantly lowers his datapad and she has his full attention.

Liita looks… off. There is something wrong. Sure, Liita has a closed off or somewhat grouchy expression on her face by default, but this isn’t that. She looks uneasy. Upset? “What’s wrong?”

Liita shakes her head.

Paz puts the datapad away and sits up properly, despite his armor not exactly working with him here. “Talk to me. Tell me what wrong?”

She hesitates, but eventually Liita draws a deep breath and starts talking. “It’s nothing. It’s really nothing. It’s stupid.” She clears her throat and shifts a little. “Am I ugly?”

She could not have surprised Paz any more if she’d slapped his bare face. “What-no!” He reaches out and takes a hold of her chin to make her face him. “You are not ugly. Who said you were?”

Liita puts on a brave face, but she keeps her gaze lowered to his chest. “No one.”

Paz leans a little closer. “Who?”

“He didn’t use the word ‘ugly’, okay?” Liita carefully lifts her gaze to look at his t-visor. “Just that I was no fighter. Too skinny. And weak. That I didn’t look like a proper Mandalorian.”

“Who?” Paz repeats, having to grit the word out through the anger choking him.

“Makeiset.” Liita mumbles.

Paz releases her chin, gets out of bed, slams his hand on the door opener and stalks out of the room.

The first thing he does is check out Makeiset’s quarters, but he’s not there so Paz goes on the hunt. He marches from common room to common room, every Mandalorian he meets throws themselves out of his path, and finally, he steps through a door and sees his prey next to the room designated for blaster target practice.

Despite Makeiset wearing his armor, the way he freezes up and radiates guilt makes it easy to picture all the colour draining from his face when he sees Paz Vizla and the fury rolling off him.

The second Paz takes a step forward, Makeiset makes a run for it. Growling, Paz takes up the chase.

Mandalorians, tables, chairs and even part of a closing door goes flying as Paz goes after Makeiset like an enraged mudhorn. Speed is usually not his thing, but the underground Covert is made out of narrow corridors and countless turns, so speed is less important than persistence.

And Paz is determined to get his hands Makeiset, who runs for his life and tries every trick possible to shake off his pursuer or slow him down. Nothing works. Paz’ blind rage trumps everything. There is no place to run, no place to hide, no help to be had from others.

When he finally does get a hold of him, when his fingers goes around the guy’s neck and Paz yanks him backwards in mid-sprint, there is a satisfying cut-off scream that ends when Paz slams Makeiset’s back against the wall.

Breathing hard, Paz uses all of his height and bulk to loom while venting a little by slamming him against the wall again, three or four times for good measure. “Listen to me, you insignificant little turd, if I ever hear you badmouthing my sister again, it will be the last thing you do.”

Makeiset tries to push him away, tries to pry his fingers off him, but it’s not working. At all. “I just said… she’s weak. And she is! Skinny, weak and no fighter.”

Growling, Paz plants a fist into Makeiset’s ribs where no hard armor can protect him from the harsh impact and the wheeze of pain is music to his ears. “You question her Mandokarla?” He punches the ribs again and then plants a shoulder against him to keep him pinned against the wall instead of collapsing to the floor. “She saved Din from bleeding to death. She crashed a frigging ship into the killer of Davarax as he was about to cut my head off. She has faced things that would have given you nightmares. And you have the nerve to call her weak?” 

Paz grabs Makeiset by the breastplate, yanks him forward and sends him slamming face first into the opposite wall and then grabs his neck to hold him upright and pressed against it. “You will apologize to her. And you will mean it. Understand?”

Makeiset garbles something. It sounds like ‘yes’.

Paz lets go and the guy crumbles into a heap on the floor. He glares at the coughing and cringing shape. “If bodies were built on courage, she would have been twice the size of you.” The contempt he feels for Makeiset is dripping from every word. “You don’t deserve to wear that helmet.”

Walking away, Paz fights against the urge to pummel the guy some more.

Life as a Mandalorian is rough, yet Liita can handle it, he knows that. She can take a punch and hand out a punch, no problem. But what Paz will not tolerate is someone making his little sister sad, or have her doubt her place in the Covert or their clan.

When he comes back to the room, Paz finds Liita and Raga sitting on the bed and he marches over to crawl in and sit with them. Wrapping his arms around Liita, he leans over and gently taps his helmet against Raga’s.

Squirming and trying to push him away, Liita makes an annoyed grunt. “What did you do? Where did you go?”

Paz hugs her closer. “I had to get away from you for a bit. You smell.”

“I do not smell!” Liita declares with no small amount of outrage.

Raga shrugs, joining in on the lie with glee. “You kind of do. Like a wet Wookiee.”

“Do not.” Liita turns her glare towards Raga and absently leans back against Paz, relaxing. “Liar.”

“You want to go to the market in town tomorrow, Shorty?” Paz asks.

Liita frowns and glances back at him over her shoulder. “You want to go? With me?” Her voice is dripping with suspiciousness.

“Yeah.” Paz replies, knowing there is one thing she won’t be able to resist. “I need your help to find a pipe sleeve or a clamp for my vambrace. The tube is leaking again.”

Liita grunts with reluctant approval. “What you really should do is replace the entire vambrace. But, fine, we can try to keep you from turning into a walking pyre.” She leans back against him again and gets comfortable. “What you’re going to have to look for is-”

And off she goes on a rant about parts and materials that some Paz partially know about and others he has only heard of in legends from ancient times. But, the most important bit, is how her facial expression is now back to slightly annoyed and secure to the point of arrogant in her knowledge.

That is worth hours of waiting for his little sister to decide what to buy at that stupid market tomorrow.

[janamelie]

Dimension Jump XXI Report

I suppose I’m a DJ veteran now as this was my fifth consecutive one and the fourth at the Nottingham Crowne Plaza which is an expensive four-star hotel.  Sharing with a friend helps keep the cost reasonable and honestly, it’s worth it for the sheer convenience of being right there in the hotel and being able to nip back to your room as required.  (To be clear, you don’t have to stay in the hotel to attend the con.  There are plenty of other hotels nearby.)

Plus there is always the chance that you’ll see a guest at breakfast as I did Danny once.  He picked out a few pieces of fruit and nibbled at them before wandering over late to his photoshoot.  What else would you expect from a cat though?

Friday

Myself and @downonthepharm-red-dwarf (Amy) had arrived the previous day so had plenty of time to be near the front of the queue for registration.  Which meant we saw Hattie Hayridge arrive in a stunning designer coat and with smart luggage.  She really brought her outfit A-game and looked great the whole weekend.

Once we’d presented our respective proofs of full Covid vaccination or a recent negative test, we were given our DJ passes and booklets.  The latter has spaces for signatures from guests, an Order Of Events and various handy tips for the weekend.

The con kicks off at 5pm with an hour of gradual build-up in the Main Hall - they show videos from previous events, specially made titbits with various guests past and present such as Mark Dexter doing a mock guide to DJ and Rebecca Blackstone voicing Pree.  It all helps with the atmosphere, as do the numerous RD posters dotted around the hotel.

Then it was time for the Opening Ceremony featuring various Fan Club team members and an overcrowded stage full of cardboard boxes - the joke was that they’d had too much time on their hands during lockdowns and bought loads of stuff online.  It was obviously also a nod to Lister’s hoarding in “The Promised Land”.  

The sketch featured a specially made shot of the AA adverts’ Starbug model landing outside the Crowne Plaza and an 80s computerised version of the lovely convention logo.  You could tell a lot of loving effort had gone into the whole thing.

Once the guest line-up had been announced (I’ll get to that not-really-a-surprise-guest shortly), we went straight into the RD Pub Quiz, hosted by Hattie.  DOTP and I had been joined at our table by Lapsang and Barbs from our Discord (No Kind Of Atmosphere) plus various other attendees we’d befriended.

Someone in the crowd yelled “I love you, Hattie!” to which she quipped “I’ve pulled already!”  Another bloke shouted “Fuck off, she’s mine!” which led to a few shouts of “Fight!”  When neither seemed keen to do so, Hattie joked: “Only two?  That’s a bit pathetic!” and then we got started.

The quiz is hard, by design, but I’m good at quizzes and my team - No Kind Of Atmosphere after our Discord - came joint third which was gratifying.  (I was on the winning team a few DJs ago, to blow my own trumpet for a moment.  This is my report, after all.)

And then it was time for the first guest Q&A with - surprise, surprise - Johnny Vegas aka the Crit Cop in “Timewave”.  Not a great episode but he more than made up for that with an appearance I can only describe as chaotic.  Warning - DO NOT attempt to heckle him unless you want to be singled out and humiliated in front of the entire audience in a “Can’t look away” fashion which was nonetheless entertaining.  The man in question tweeted about it afterwards and seems to have taken it in good spirit.

Once we’d moved on from encouraging people to leave unpleasant things in room 429, it turned out Johnny’s a big fan of the show and owned it on VHS (so did I).  He thinks of the main characters, Holly would win at “Taskmaster” and had good reasons for that conclusion.  

He was dubious about the pink costume he wore in “Timewave” as he thought it might take away from the character but said he eventually decided he needed to get over what he was wearing and just go for it.  He also said one of his worst working moments was on “Benidorm” when he had to hold his breath underwater in a freezing swimming pool and his co-star kept forgetting her two lines so they had over 30 takes.  Ouch.

Johnny left commenting that he got less love at his 50th birthday party.  But we hadn’t seen the last of him by any means as people kept buying him drinks during the Auction, leading to him successfully bidding for one of the items on offer.

And then he was back for the Karaoke.  Now if you - as he informed us - had to undergo emergency dental surgery in the morning and had practically lost your voice, would you sing karaoke?  And not only that, would you sing a version of “Love On The Rocks” which lasted 11 minutes according to someone on Twitter (I wasn’t timing it, but I can believe it), followed by the full-length version of “American Pie”?

If you answered no, you’re clearly not Johnny Vegas.  He went to bed so late that the unfortunate Fan Club team member assigned to look after him got a grand total of 90 minutes’ sleep.

Saturday

DOTP and I had paid for the Photoshoot with Mr Vegas, Danny John-Jules and Ray Fearon.  We got in the queue at 9am which was when it was supposed to start.  An hour later we were still waiting.  Yep, Danny was late.

Once he made it to the hotel, I got my photo in front of a Science Room backdrop.  You might think Mr Vegas would be hungover and rushing through it, but on the contrary, he was still enjoying the hell out of proceedings which was refreshing to see.  Since he’d been added to the line-up too late to be in the souvenir booklet, he signed extra inserts for the Fan Club which they handed out to everyone at the later Autograph sessions so attendees got his autograph after all even though he’d finally left.  That’s what I call throwing yourself into an event.

Next up was a combined Q&A with Danny and Ray (originally separate but Danny’s lateness meant they were teamed up).  This wasn’t a problem at all though - on the contrary, it worked really well as the chumminess between them added to the vibe.  Also it was Ray’s first convention so he probably preferred to have Danny backing him up, especially since the poor man tripped on his way to the stage and almost fell.  I don’t think he was hurt but I cringed with secondhand embarrassment and empathy.  He wasn’t the only one to fall foul of the edge of the stage that weekend; I think it was the slightly raised dancefloor in front of it.

As is usual for Danny, we were treated to over half an hour of what you can only really describe as a stream of consciousness as he pontificated about various things.  He and Ray did also talk about working together on “Death In Paradise” and Ray described his worst working experience there - he had to play a scene in a club in 45 degree heat with a live snake wrapped around his neck!

Ray is attractive in a “Hollywood hunk” way and Danny was clearly conscious of this, joking that he’d “brought his own security with him” and muttering “I’m better-looking anyway!”  But all in a jokey way as they’re clearly friends.

Danny had come from filming and dropped a heavy hint that he’s appearing in a Dickens adaptation which I imagine will be shown at Christmas as they generally are.  He also complained that Craig Charles never answers his phone: “You send him a message and he answers it on Twitter a month later!”  (Interestingly, Chris Barrie later mentioned a recent phone conversation with Craig so make of that what you will.)

Ray was quieter but happy to talk about the vagaries of showbiz and typecasting - he said that due to his Shakespearean background he gets a lot of serious roles so people were genuinely surprised that he could also do comedy but “I was always funny!”  He also gently teased Danny about the age of some of his references before admitting he still finds Tommy Cooper funny.

Danny usually performs “Tongue-tied” with a good grace when inevitably asked to by an audience member but perhaps it’s finally starting to pall as this time he did it in the style of Oliver Reed’s Bill Sykes and included a lot of X-rated references to cunnilingus etc.  It was entertaining though.

Next up was a live Q&A (over Zoom) with Chris Barrie.  Danny decided to stick around as he wanted to show Chris something he’d ordered online.  It took a while to get the cameras in the right position for Chris to be able to see it and Danny needed a knife to open the parcel, leading Chris to quip “Is this a good time for me to step out for some lunch?”

However, it turned out to be worth it as it was a custom-made Ace Rimmer doll which impressed Chris with its quality and he complimented the maker.

Danny and Ray then departed for their lunch and to take part in the Coffee Lounge which this year had reduced its numbers for Covid-related reasons and held a ballot for entry in the interests of fairness.  Amy and I didn’t get in but happily stayed for the rest of Chris’s Q&A.

In the “working from home” spirit, Chris was in a hoodie in his living room as opposed to his more usual smart suit.  He was suitably relaxed and revealed he got through lockdown by concentrating on the things which make him happy, such as his hobbies, his garden and his family.  His favourite episodes are “Marooned”, “Dimension Jump” and - less predictably - “Twentica”.  He also referred to a recent “mannerly, as he would call it” phone conversation with Craig.  No details but it had clearly been a positive experience.

Amy decided to liven up the ending of his Q&A by asking a vitally important, “TPL”-related question.  Whom would Rimmer find more attractive, a female version of Lister or a female version of Cat?

Once the laughter had died down and Chris had bought some time by pointing out that “neither of them are women”, he gave the question appropriate consideration.  He pondered whether Rimmer would be more taken by the “simple charms” of Lister or the “feline grace” of Cat.  This next bit is courtesy of Amy as my memory isn’t infallible: He said it’d be a choice between a feline form or a rounder, a bit more slovenly woman - he wouldn’t want the perfectly feline woman because she might not like his imperfections, but he also wouldn’t want someone who ate curry three times a day.  “Basically, a balance would be ideal.”

That was the last question but Chris provided a little more entertainment as he had a “How do you turn this off then?” moment a la Gordon the computer in “Better Than Life” and made amusing faces as he figured it out.  If it was anyone but Chris I’d think it was a deliberate reference to that but I think he was genuinely befuddled.

We then broke for lunch, followed by Autographs with Hattie, Danny, Ray and Norman Lovett.  I got the latter three to sign the “TPL” poster I’d brought with me but gave Hattie the booklet instead as it seemed more tactful.  She complimented the dress I was wearing and I returned the compliment, telling her how much the fans appreciate the effort she makes with her DJ outfits.

Norman commented how there’s a version of the “TPL” poster he isn’t on, bemusedly.  Fortunately mine was the version including him. 

I spent the rest of the afternoon chilling in the bar with Amy, Lapsang and Barbs, chatting to other attendees.  Graphic Designer Matthew Clark was now in the Merchandise Room with various props from Series XII and “TPL” including the Starbug manual used onscreen.  I got his autograph on my poster but it’s an incomprehensible squiggle.  Oh well.  He was very friendly and easy to talk to.

After a break for dinner, the Main Hall reopened for the Costume Competition.  This seems to get better every DJ, with an amazing “Greyscale Rimmer” who was discomfiting to be around due to the corpse-like makeup, a Natalina Pushkin, a Nirvanah Crane who could almost have been Jane Horrocks herself and a Diving Suit Cat from “BTE”.  Other entries included Rimmer’s Mum, “Giraffes who were armed and dangerous” and a Confidence And Paranoia who were later pictured at the bar chatting to Paranoia himself, Lee Cornes.

We then had a special video message from Doug Naylor which I won’t go into as I’m sure everyone’s already heard the details.  Suffice to say, his tone was positive.

The second Auction was hosted by Ian Boldsworth who made it more entertaining by adding his own commentary to each item.  This was followed by a stand-up set from Norman.  It was amusing but he misjudged the mood a bit, I feel.  When you’re waiting for a disco to start and it’s already hours late due to Danny’s tardiness, you don’t particularly want to contemplate your own mortality.  We were here to get away from all that, as much as possible.

Anyway, the Disco was a lot of fun even if Dave Benson Phillips’ presence as host was sorely missed.  Hattie danced for the best part of an hour alongside everyone else.  The stand-in DJs did their job and I stayed until the end.  The final two songs were “Bohemian Rhapsody” and … “Tongue-tied”.

Sunday

Not being in the Sunday Photoshoot, Amy and I had a nice leisurely breakfast and got over last night’s festivities before the first Q&A, live over Zoom with Robert Llewellyn.

This was hosted by Ian Boldsworth who in his capacity as Dave era audience warm-up knows Robert well.  Clearly well enough to get away with teasing him relentlessly about not being at the con in person until poor Robert was a mess of Krytenesque guilt.  

His protestations that he’d been scheduled to be in Munich this weekend but no longer was (he was at home) only made things worse.  Ian: “Oh, so that’s two sets of people you’ve disappointed now!  Stop saying yes to things!”  It was hilarious and Robert took it in its intended spirit.  Also Ian was getting a measure of revenge for Robert - in character as Kryten - dry humping him at recordings.  One attendee asked “With the groinal attachment?!”

Robert admitted that he finds Kryten’s various groinal attachments hilarious and if he was writing the show they’d be in every episode.  He praised Doug’s restraint.

He also admitted that in “TPL” he had an earpiece to have his lines fed to him.  Since it’s controlled by an iPad, certain unscrupulous cast members took great delight in feeding him rude ones.

He still intends to update “The Man In The Rubber Mask” but atm “Fully Charged” is consuming a lot of his time as it’s become much more successful than he anticipated and he’s in charge of several people.

Surprisingly, he would hate appearing in RD without the Kryten makeup, both because it’s become much quicker to apply and because it provides him with a shield and he becomes Kryten and forgets stagefright.  He still can’t watch “DNA” for that reason.

Lapsang, who played Kryten in “Into The Gloop”, asked Robert if he’d seen it.  He hadn’t but said he was now very curious and would find a way to.

Next up was Lee Cornes aka Paranoia who said he originally auditioned for the lead roles and like the other unsuccessful actors got the consolation prize of a guest appearance.  Upon being asked if he’d gone out for a drink with Craig Ferguson’s Confidence, he said no because at the time they had a frosty relationship due to rumours that Craig was plagiarising other comics’ jokes.  Lee said it was all very silly and he’s since apologised.

Interestingly, Lee is a qualified science teacher and carried on with that career alongside his media one, leading to surreal situations where his pupils would ask: “Sir?  Were you on the telly last night?”  “Yes.”  “Are we on the telly now, sir?”

Someone asked a good question - what would Lister’s Paranoia be like now 33 years later?  Lee would be willing to reprise the role but isn’t sure it would work as the original had a childish quality whereas he feels now the character would be a lot darker and less funny.  Lee was both thoughtful and entertaining in his responses.

He was followed onstage by Hattie and Norman, who resolutely refused to rise to the bait of an audience member attempting to stir up a rivalry between them.  That only works when one isn’t the nicest person you could meet.

A tactless audience member asked both if they’d watched “TPL” instead of directing the question at Norman.  Luckily Hattie had seen it and particularly enjoyed the cat flap joke although she felt there was a little too much focus on the guest cast.

Norman didn’t really watch RD after he left but Hattie has seen Norman’s early episodes as he lent them to her back when she was originally cast as Hilly for research purposes.  Bear in mind this was 1988 when they weren’t even available on VHS so presumably he recorded them off the TV.  

Hattie confirmed with a sigh that she’s simply never been asked to return in any capacity: “That’s the short answer.”  What the hell, I’ll say it one more time - Bring Back Hattie!  One episode, that’s all I ask.  As it stands, it’s starting to look like a pointed and deliberate snub which mystifies me.

We then broke for lunch, followed by Rob Grant and Paul Jackson.  For obvious reasons they didn’t go into the current legal mess, opting instead to entertain the fans with the story of how they met and their early pre-RD work (Rob and Doug as freelance writers for Paul’s producer).

We saw some clips from their early shows including “Three Of A Kind” with Lenny Henry, Tracy Ullman and … later magician David Copperfield; apparently they all had the same agent and Paul took on David as a favour.  For a 40 year old show it held up pretty well and was in much better sound and picture quality than older shows often are. “Carrott’s Lib” was just as funny.

It’s a bit hard to summarise but this session was entertaining and gripping.  Rob still wants to write another RD novel and I believe there’s nothing actually stopping him as both he and Doug had an option to write a second solo novel.  So we’ll see.

The final Q&A was Matthew Clark who was very informative and interesting, showing us numerous production stills from Series XII and “TPL” and talking us through them.  There was a groan when time was called before he was finished.

By now time was running short and Amy and I went back to the room to pack and leave our luggage with reception before watching the start of “Dibbley Family Fortunes”. Since I knew I wouldn’t have time to watch it all, I instead nipped upstairs to Autographs with Lee and Ian, timing it perfectly as the queue had almost vanished.

Ian was still performing, drawing scornful attention to the fact that Lee had a longer queue: “Can you imagine all these people queueing to see Lee Cornes?!”  It sounds rude out of context but he was clearly joking.

I decided to ask Lee what flavour the yogurt Paranoia eats was.  He said it didn’t really taste of anything as it was the cheapest, nastiest canteen yogurt available and was also starting to curdle under the studio lights so eating it can’t have been much fun.

Since I now had about 15 minutes before I had to go, I caught a bit of Dibbley Family Fortunes, said goodbye to Amy, Lapsang and Barbs and then dashed off to catch the tram to the train station.  Another great DJ.

[qqueenofhades]

Modern AU Heartrender Husbands gives me the vibes of like they'll watch eurovision bc Fedyor wanted to and Ivan only begrudgingly agreed but in the end it's him who's standing really close to the TV with a bottle of beer loudly criticising the jury vote

Anon, your Mind. As 100% ever, I am so very easy to enable. As before, this is set in Phantom!Verse, and serves as a sequel of sorts to this (and as a further prequel to PEL).

Brighton Beach, 2014

It’s their first spring in their new home – they arrived in America in August 2013 and got this place, fittingly, right around Orthodox Christmas in January 2014 – and that means many things to them. Their apartment is in a formerly rent-controlled brownstone tenement right off the boardwalk, but prior to their arrival, it was occupied for fifty years by an old bat from Krasnodar Krai who apparently never, ever, threw anything away. (Fedyor is too scared to ask if she actually died in this apartment and her mummified corpse is lurking at the bottom of all the junk.) That is why he and Ivan were able to afford it, at least, but now that the weather is warmer, they have been spending all day cleaning, hauling boxes of crap to the dumpster, and trying in vain to get the smell of pickled cabbage out of the kitchen. It looks exactly like your Great Aunt Masha’s house, the one that traumatized you as a child and has never left your nightmares since. Home sweet home.

The upside is that the location is great, the apartment is surprisingly spacious and lovely – a big bedroom, a bathroom with two sinks and a deep claw-footed tub, a living room with high windows that let in lots of light, original crown molding and hardwood floors – and if it was located in the really chic parts of Brooklyn and inhabited by a tech-startup hipster rather than a Russian émigré spinster with definite hoarding tendencies, it would rent for some astronomical monthly sum. Fedyor has a three-ring binder full of paint swatches, sketches, furniture samples, and other plans to give it a total overhaul (he’s thinking a nice pale green for the living room?) But the one thing that spring definitely means is Eurovision, and it is just the ticket to relax from their grueling schedule of throwing boxes of junk away and hoping they don’t stumble upon a withered hand in a glass jar. He likes America and he’s excited for their new life, for all that they had no choice but to leave Russia in a hurry, but Eurovision is Eurovision.

Actually watching it, of course, is easier said than done. For one thing, Fedyor can’t find a blasted station that is airing it, when he could have just switched on the TV and found it right away back home. For another, Ivan is deeply dubious of the whole endeavor, having watched five minutes of it once when he was eighteen and turning it off in disgust, never to return. Fedyor spends a lot of time wheedling him to give it another chance. “Come on, Vanya. It’s fun!”

“It is a lot of homosexuals gyrating in leather to very bad music,” Ivan snaps. “They look ridiculous. And sound even worse.”

Fedyor glances at them – the fact that they’re sitting on the couch, he’s on Ivan’s lap with his legs draped over Ivan’s thigh, and Ivan’s arms wrapped around his waist – and coughs. “I’m not sure how to break this to you, darling,” he says, “but you are also a homosexual.”

“Maybe, but you would never catch me dead up there.”

“Of course not.” Fedyor rolls his eyes. “You might actually have to smile.”

Ivan makes a scoffing noise. Then he notices the full-on puppy-dog face that Fedyor is now giving him, and says, “Oh no. Oh no, Fedya. Do not look at me like that.”

“Why not?” Fedyor shamelessly snuggles closer. “Is it working?”

The predictable outcome is that Ivan grudgingly agrees to watch it with him, though they’re on American time now and Eurovision Song Contest 2014, held in Copenhagen, Denmark, is six hours ahead of them. Ivan thinks that it’s stupid to sit down and watch a lot of gyrating homosexuals in the middle of the day, when there’s still so much work to do, and tries to demand that they just watch the recording later. Fedyor says this is nonsense, you simply cannot watch a recording of Eurovision, and after a lot of investigation, finds the online streaming channel on his laptop and hooks it up to the TV so they can watch it there. Then he prepares his popcorn, his alcoholic beverages, and his glitter glasses, corrals his recalcitrant husband, and readies himself to experience pure joy. No wonder Ivan doesn’t get it.

However, the effect is both swift and remarkable. By the end of the first semi-final, Ivan is put out about the fact that Russia came seventh in the popular vote but was knocked down to eleven by the jury (this is evidence of an anti-Russian conspiracy, according to him) and when only Moldova, a tiny no-name non-EU former Soviet state, deigns to award them the full twelve points, he is openly incredulous. “Moldova?! That is all we get?! MOLDOVA?!”

“Well,” Fedyor says delicately. “There is that little situation in Ukraine, so I’m afraid we are not that popular right now.”

“That is bullshit,” Ivan grouses. “This is a song contest. The Tolmachevy Sisters are not Vladimir Putin. I am sure they have worked very hard to be here.”

Fedyor glances at him and wisely decides not to say anything. He is likewise a little peeved when the Russian contestants get booed by the Danish audience, but Ivan looks like he’s about to leap through the screen and throttle every single one of them. He thrusts out a hand. “Give me a drink, Fedya. I need it to suffer this indignity.”

Fedyor cracks the lid off a cold one and hands it over – there is the Brighton Bazaar just a few blocks away, stocked with Russian goods, so they are spared the ordeal of drinking Yankee beer – and Ivan takes a long slug. He thinks they can skip watching the second semi-final two nights later, since Russia isn’t in it, but Fedyor puts it on anyway. They both like Austria and “Rise Like a Phoenix,” sung by the bearded drag queen Conchita Wurst (there have been a few dumb comments about her from the usual suspects), but Ivan hits a fist on the arm of the sofa. “She was not better than the Russian girls,” he says loyally. “I still think that they should be the ones to win.”

“Right, well,” Fedyor says. “I think the only ones less likely to win are the Brits, and they never win, so we might be waiting a while.”

The grand finale, on May tenth, is an inadvertently hysterical exercise. They get up early and put on the pregame show, like the Americans do with their bewildering fixation on the Super Bowl, and Ivan gets even more furious when the Tolmachevy Sisters are booed again. “Are they not supposed to love everyone at this glitter bacchanalia? So much for the Scandinavians being tolerant and accepting people! The song is nice! They are nice girls! What is wrong with them?!”

“Come over here and give me a cuddle, Vanya,” Fedyor suggests. “Otherwise you will blow a blood vessel long before the show starts.”

Ivan growls like an escaped tiger from the zoo, but consents to sit down next to Fedyor. They both drink copiously once the festivities get underway, singing along loudly (and not that melodiously) to the various entries, Fedyor’s arm draped around Ivan’s neck as he sits on his lap and critically judges the acts before the official results pop up. Once again, the only twelve-point awards Russia gets are from former Soviet countries (Azerbaijan and Belarus) and Ivan looks like he’s going to have a conniption before Fedyor kisses him and he gets distracted for the next three minutes. “This is disgraceful,” he mutters, when they break away. “Not you, Fedya. Just the horrible way they have clearly rigged this show against us.”

“You know,” Fedyor says. “That’s Eurovision. You declare war on your neighbors when they don’t give you twelve points. Now they have the EU, they’re not supposed to fight anymore, this is the only way they can get all those old rivalries out. Just be glad that Australia isn’t in this year. You might have really blown a gasket.”

“Australia?!” Ivan shifts Fedyor to a more comfortable position on his lap and grabs for his third bottle of beer. “AUSTRALIA IS NOT IN EUROPE! It is not even anywhere NEAR Europe! WHY DOES AUSTRALIA GET TO BE IN EUROVISION!?!”

Fedyor laughs out loud. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Ivan says. “But this is still the stupidest thing I have ever seen.”

“Shh.” Fedyor nuzzles him. “Just give in, Vanya. Just give in.”

Ivan consents to turn his grumbling down to a simmer, and is somewhat mollified that Russia comes in sixth overall, which is better than even Fedyor thought they were going to do. Austria takes the champion’s crown, they can both agree that Conchita Wurst deserves it, and get up and dance around their still-junk-cluttered living room as she gives her bravissima performance. A few things have been thrown during the judging, but they can’t add much to the existing mess, and in Brighton Beach, “damage caused to the apartment because Russia got shafted during Eurovision finals” might actually be a legitimate excuse. As he leans against Ivan’s chest and grins into his neck, Fedyor has to admit that this place may just feel like home yet.

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Day 1 Birthday Plot Bunnies 2

If you want this to become my next WIP, be sure to shower it with lots of love!!  🥰 💖 All the story starters will be linked back to this masterpost. 

Title: Heart of the Mountain

Summary: What if Thror wasn’t mad like everyone thought? What if the Arkenstone was truly at fault? Questions Bilbo and Thorin will have to answer together after Bilbo is swallowed by the gem. Bilbo and Thorin must work together to conquer the magic of the Arkenstone while Bilbo is invisible and forgotten by the others without making Thorin look as insane as his grandfather. Also, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to maybe work out why exactly the Arkenstone considered Bilbo, Thorin’s heart as well.

He did it. By the skin of his teeth and the hair on his feet, if Smaug had anything to say about it. Still, Bilbo did it. He had successfully burgled the Arkenstone from a fire-breathing dragon. Returning it to its rightful owner would be another matter entirely. For one thing, said fire-breathing dragon was nipping at their heels. For another, Bilbo feared for the true King Under the Mountain. What if Smaug was right, and the stone really did possess some sort of adverse effect on Thorin? 

It was quite a while later before Bilbo was able to truly stew on these thoughts. After their escape through the mountain failing in ending Smaug’s life. After he fled to exact revenge on a human town that did not deserve such burning fury. After the dragon fell into the lake never to rise again. Bilbo turned back to gauge Thorin’s reaction, only for the dwarf to be retreating back into the mountain.

Lord Elrond spoke of a madness that existed in Thorin’s family. Gandalf seemed confident it would not take the dwarf as it had his grandfather. Bilbo supposed he had to hope for the same. Yet, unease took him at Thorin’s callousness. Before he could talk himself out of it, he found he was chasing after the King. The dwarf’s path straight to the treasure hall was not encouraging.

“Thorin!” Bilbo called.

He paused and slowly turned back to the hobbit with an unreadable expression that gave him pause.

“Master Baggins.” He nodded in return.

“The dragon is dead. I saw it.” Bilbo pointed out.

“One enemy defeated in a sea of others that will come to steal from us. We must make ready.”

Unease prickled the back of Bilbo’s neck. Something wasn’t right. He wasn’t going to jump to assumptions though. He wasn’t going to immediately doubt his friend for a paranoia that was fairly justifiable if you considered their quest thus far.

“I agree, yes, wholeheartedly we need to protect that which is yours, but Thorin...surely, there are more pressing matters at hand?”

“Pressing?” Thorin questioned with his chin raised high.

“Where are we going to sleep? After the food runs out from our packs, what will fill our bellies? The survivors of Laketown will need refuge.”

It was the last point that earned a growl from the dwarf king. 

“Do not speak to me of refugees when we know not who or what survived!”

Bilbo was taken aback by his ire, and found himself to be rather tight-lipped suddenly. Thorin shook his head in disgust before retreating back to the treasure hoard of Thror. The burglar did not give up the shining gem in his pocket that night.

The next morning found the company of dwarves and lone hobbit sharing a hearty albeit plain meal of jerky and cram. They had rations to last them a few more weeks, but most of the others agreed with Bilbo’s earlier assessment. They needed supplies. Only, their king was not there to bring such tidings.

“Bilbo, I thought you were with him last night. Did he say anything to you, lad?” Balin questioned.

The hobbit swallowed down the hard tack with a little water from his skin before answering.

“Uh, yes. He said we must be ready for...enemies.”

The dwarves all exchanged confused looks at this. Dwalin and Balin’s eyes met with more desperation and warning.

“I don’t blame him.” Bilbo immediately defended. “We’ve had enemies breathing down our necks the whole quest. Why should it be any different at the end?”

“Aye, the hobbit speaks sense.” Gloin agreed. “Clearly, there are several matters we need to take care of. The hard work is not over yet, lads.”

“And where is he now?” Dwalin rumbled. “Where was the last place you saw him, Bilbo?”

Bilbo opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. He knew the sons of Fundin shared his fears. They were close to Thorin, and Balin lived through the days of Thror’s madness himself. He didn’t want to offer doubts to Thorin’s sanity. Not yet. 

“I’m...not exactly sure. I may have a guess though. I’ll just...go see if I can find him and be right back.”

Dwalin didn’t look satisfied with his answer. Balin was a little more understanding. 

“Aye, that would be mighty fine, Master Hobbit. Meanwhile, we’ll start talking about defense and reinforcements so as to have an idea to present our king.”

Bilbo nodded gratefully as he hopped to his feet. He really hoped he was long as he meandered down the tunnel that would bring him back into the treasury. The endless waves of gold and gems were just as boundless as they were when Bilbo was last in here. He couldn’t believe so much of it could exist in the entire world! Much less this single, lonely mountain. It would probably be more of a monumental task to find Thorin than Bilbo first suspected. And honestly, he hoped he would not find the dwarf in such a place. It wouldn���t mean anything good, of that he was certain.

He carefully picked his way down the stairs and around the first golden hill calling for the king as he went. He didn’t really expect an answer so it nearly had him jumping out of his skin when the dwarf revealed himself to be right behind him.

“Am I not allowed my peace?” Thorin growled.

Bilbo spun around to see him leaning against one of the pillars broken by Smaug’s mighty forepaws. The dwarf looked terrible. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his skin looked pale and waxy in the glow of the gold.

“Thorin!” Bilbo shouted unnecessarily, still trying to recover from his fight. “We missed you...at breakfast.”

“The dawn is already upon us.” Thorin groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Yeah.” Bilbo nodded slowly. “We’ve been discussing...options for what we should do from here.”

“There is but one option for us.” Thorin snapped. “We have to find the Arkenstone.”

Cold robbed Bilbo’s feet of any feeling, and his coat felt unnaturally heavy. 

“Last night.” He began gruffly, clearing his throat before continuing. “Last night, you said we had to prepare for enemies. Now some...shiny gem must be our first priority?”

Thorin’s head snapped to pierce Bilbo with an icy look. “What are you insinuating, Halfling?”

“Me?” Bilbo grinned without humor. “Nothing, nothing at all. I’m just trying to understand. How does a rock matter more in this moment than food and supplies?”

“It’s not a rock.” Thorin scoffed.

“It is!” He argued. “An unusual one, but a rock nonetheless.”

“What would you know?!” Thorin exploded, throwing his hands in the air. “If you had done your job in the first place, none of this would have happened!”

“Excuse you! What would you have me do? Run through flame and death!”

“How about not wake up a dragon?”

“How about there wasn’t supposed to be a live dragon to wake?!”

“Yet there was!”

“Yes, there was. And now he’s dead. Along with half a village of fisherman.” 

“A VILLAGE WITH MY NEPHEWS IN IT!”

Bilbo froze. Any anger, resentment, or cynicism he had left just seemed to ebb out as he watched the mighty dwarf king clench his fists and look away.

“I promised Dis...I was supposed to look after them. I thought I was doing right...I made them stay.”

Bilbo never felt so relieved to be washed in the waves of one’s grief. It all made sense. There was nothing sinister about Thorin’s action. He was an uncle worried sick. In fact, it seemed rather obvious in retrospect. Thorin tended to lash out worse when his heart was heavy if his how he described his behavior on the side of the Misty Mountains later to Bilbo was any indicator. Slowly, he made his way to the dwarf’s side and placed his hand on his arm.

“Thorin...I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I was short with you.”

The king tore himself away, still refusing to look at Bilbo.

“It does not matter.”

“No, it does! It really does, only...why the Arkenstone? Why come down here and search for it all night in your worry?”

Thorin heaved a large sigh, but the tension in his body relaxed none.

“I guess I shouldn’t expect a hobbit to understand such things.”

Bilbo tried really hard for the sake of his friend’s hurting not to take terrible offense.

“Do you remember at the beginning of the quest back in your home when I spoke of the meeting with my kin?” He asked, finally turning to stare at Bilbo.

The hobbit almost smirked. My! Didn’t that feel like a decade ago? However, he did remember the night. Vividly, in fact and nodded his assent.

“They would not join our quest. They thought it was folly. I was told I was only going to my death, and without the Arkenstone they would not join me in my suicide.”

Bilbo’s eyebrows came together as he tilted his head slightly. “I’m afraid I still don’t understand. What does the stone have to do with anything?”

“It’s the King’s Jewel. It is a symbol of power to people. One that can command any of the dwarven lords to honor their pledge to Erebor.”

Understanding took hold at that point. “If you had the Arkenstone, you would be able to call on their aid now.”

The king nodded which in turn caused the hobbit to scoff.

“How ridiculous! To be bound so by a…”

“By Mahal, Bilbo, do not call it a rock again.” Thorin swore.

Bilbo held the king’s glare before they both burst into snickers. Perhaps not the best time or place, but a welcome reprieve nonetheless. 

“Well, let me start by saying, don’t worry so. If your nephews are even half as stubborn as you, they wouldn’t dare let a dragon kill them.”

Thorin ducked his head with a sad smile. “Let us hope you are correct.”

“And turning our thoughts to food and bedding and clothing wouldn’t be remiss before we start holing ourselves in.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “Anything else?”

“Yeah.” Bilbo grinned. “If ruling is really going to be so much easier with a shiny rock...then I have just the thing.”

The dwarf looked to be losing his patience again at the word ‘rock’, but the sight of the Arkenstone Bilbo pulled from his pocket had him at a loss for words that the hobbit rather enjoyed.

“Not so bad at my job now, am I?”

Thorin barked out a laugh while his eyes glittered in wonder. “Bilbo, how did you…? Just when exactly were you planning to give this to me?”

“When I was ready.” The hobbit shrugged under the dwarf’s glare. “None of that! You can’t expect me to make good decisions on an empty stomach and blisters fresh on my feet. Just what kind of hobbit do you take me for?”

“The thieving kind?” Thorin raised an eyebrow.

Bilbo lifted his nose and gave a rather pretentious sniff. “Well, if that’s the case, perhaps I will take this rather important rock and put it back where I found it.”

Thorin laughed as he moved to place his hand over the Arkenstone. “Peace, Master Baggins. I meant no…”

The dwarf never finished his sentence. As soon as his hand touched the Arkenstone, both he and Bilbo were blasted backwards by a surge of power. Thorin hit the stone pillar hard, slumping to the ground before it. Colors danced before him and in it, a rather insidious voice he couldn’t place.

“Dig deeper. In the gold your heart will finally be free. After uniting the lock with the Arkenstone as key.”

Thorin shook his head to clear it as his ears still rang from the impact. He staggered to his feet as he looked around for where the hobbit could have possibly landed.

“Master Baggins?” He questioned.

He waited for a response, but none came. Thorin swore as he spun, checking against every stone and wall for an unconscious body.

“BILBO!” He hollered.

“Thorin?” A quiet and unsure voice returned.

The dwarf sighed in visible relief as he turned to where Bilbo’s voice came from. Only, there was no one there. There was nothing at all save for the Arkenstone.

“Bilbo?” Thorin tried again, creeping forward.

“Here!” 

Thorin’s brows furrowed together, and his steps became more cautious. How odd. He could almost swear he was hearing Bilbo’s voice come straight from the Arkenstone. He paused as he reached out for it, his fingertips just ghosting the surface. What if this was how the madness started?

“Thorin!” Bilbo called to him, his voice pleading.

A different type of siren’s song than what he imagined it to be. This had to be the madness that took Thror. His hand flinched back as he recoiled from the tempting stone.

“Master Baggins...Bilbo. The stone is leading down a dark path. I beg you to reveal yourself before I follow in the footsteps of my grandfather.”

The stone released a bright array of colors that had Thorin staggering as he shielded his eyes from the onslaught. The lights burned stars behind his eyelids that had him blinking rapidly as he adjusted back to the returning dimness of the treasury. Only, he was no longer alone. Master Baggins was standing before him. A sight that would have given him joy, if it wasn’t for the fact that Thorin could see straight through him as if he were a ghostly entity. Thorin stared, closed his eyes, rubbed his heels into them, and blinked them back open. He was still treated to the same sight. A spector hobbit trapped in the glow of the Arkenstone with a rather alarmed expression.

“Thorin, it would seem, we have a bit of a problem with your rock.”

[depressedacadamia]

Fight Me Part 2

Summary: Nico prepares for his date but it seems someone has forgotten.

Warnings?: Nothing much. A bit of kissing. Some fluff.

A/N: FJLKJLHGK, I completely forgot that i wrote this and that i was gonna write a part 2. Anyway, my exams are next week and i haven't revised so wish me luck. Little tribute for @thebigqueer and their old blog description of ‘people make fun of me because I’m short but I can reach their knees’ because lateron, Nico embodies that. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! <3 from me!

Read Part 1 on tumblr       Read parts 1 and 2 on A03

It was 7:30

Will was late.

“Hello?” Nico turned around. “Anybody here?”

The sun was going to set in around an hour and half and somehow, the sky was already getting darker. Nico could feel the sun's rays getting weaker and the warmth slowly draining away.

He had a small bag clutched in his hand with a collection of his favourite mythomagic cards and a couple of sandwiches and some bottles of juice. It certainly wasn’t a banquet but at least it was something and Nico had assumed that Will would have had a tiring day after working in the infirmary during a day of capture the flag ( The Ares kids were always involved).

He lifted his wristwatch to his line of view to glance at the time, noticing that the time was moving annoyingly fast. If it continued like this, it would be sunset and Nico would have officially been stood up. He could feel his chest prickling in anxiety from the idea- that all along it was a sick joke, made only so everyone could make fun of him.

“Hello? Anybody?” It was almost eight and Nico was getting agitated. Sure it was normal to be a bit late, even if it was a date that Will had asked him on but 45 minutes? 45 minutes late to a date? Nico was finally so sick of pacing behind his cabin like a loser, he worked up the nerve to march over to the infirmary to give Will a piece of his mind.

As Nico entered what he believed to be the infirmary, he questioned if he was in the right place. Then it hit him. The infirmary was so crowded, Nico couldn’t even recognise it. It was full of campers, from many different cabins, all covered in injuries and blood. This room, to surgeons, was like candy but with blood, which as Christina Yang had said- was way better,

That was only, of course, if you weren’t meant to be on a date with your cute ex-patient.

To Will, the sudden influx of patients infuriated him. He was meant to be having the best date of his life with Nico but instead, he ws here treating all these stupid injured buffalos who were too incompetent to prevent themselves from being injured.

“Next time, if an Ares kid threatens to break your leg, you should take them more seriously,” Will sighed as he finished the cast on the Athena camper’s leg. Weren’t these ones meant to be smart, Will thought.

His eyes searched across the infirmary, for the next most urgent patient; as head of the Apollo cabin, he was in charge of the infirmary which at first had sounded great. Now, he realised, it was not.

He was about to assist on setting a broken arm but he saw another healer get there first and simultaneously, he saw a very recognisable set of onyx eyes that came with a stunning appearance.

Nico was wearing black skinny ripped jeans with a chain hanging by the waist of it. His stygian iron sword that never left his side was being held to his waist with a skull strap and Nico’s eyeliner was absolutely perfect. Winged and angelic, his eyes were standing out like never before. Nico had been a bit nervous about wearing eyeliner outside of his cabin, but after much persuasion from Hazel, Jason and Percy, he had agreed to wear it.

Will thought he felt his mouth drop. But then, he felt his heart drop. Why was Nico in the infirmary? Was he involved in the fight? Was he hurt? Will rushed over to Nico, pushing through the injured masses, ignoring their shouts and snaps of discomfort. He waded through them like thick oceans of blood until he managed to spot Nico’s hand, decorated with expensive looking rings.

“Nico,” Will gasped, his eyes running up and down, scanning his body for injuries. “What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

Nico’s winged eyes squinted. “ What am I doing here? Did you forget?”

Will’s mouth opened and then closed again, his brain clearly racking for what he had forgotten.

“Our date. You were meant to meet me an hour ago,” He mumbled, raising his wrist to his face, checking the time once again.

Will’s face dropped, his expression ghostly. “ No! No, no, I can’t have forgotten- it wasn’t today. I could have sworn it wasn’t today.” He turned to Nico. “ It wasn’t today, right?”

“It was today.”

“Fuck.”

“That’s a good response, at least,” Nico murmured, kicking his boots at the bloodied tile floor.

“I'm so sorry. I got hoarded with patients, like hoarded. The Ares kids had some new weapons made today and the Hephaestus kids thought it would be fun to mess with them. Somehow the Athena kids got involved and I think there are some Dionysus kids who got involved just for the drama.” Will grabbed Nico's hands, squeezing them with such intensity, Nico feared they might break.

When Nico looked at Will’s face at that moment, he knew he was going to say ‘yes’ to whatever was about to be asked of him. Whether Will just wanted some gum or if he wanted to burn the entire world; there was something alluring in those eyes that Nico could simply never deny. “Nico, fuck, please give me another chance. I know I shouldn't have stood you up like that and I really wasn't planning to. It’s just, we got so many patients all at once that it completely slipped from my mind and-”

“-I’m not mad. A bit annoyed, yes, but I get it. You have people to fix. Go do your job.” Nico paused for a moment. “But one thing. Next time you almost stand me up, a note or a messenger would have been nice.”

Will frowned. “I thought I sent a note?”

Nico paused again. Did he send a note? Nico’s memory racked- did anybody come to give him a note? He couldn’t distinctly remember it.

The only thing he remembered was someone running to his cabin, panting and him slipping himself into the shadows, avoiding whichever body had come wandering into his domain- he had not been in the mood to interact with anybody other than Will (Or maybe Hazel or Annabeth because they always knew what to say and when to say it).

Woops.

“Oh, That note you mean. I might have hidden from the messenger in the shadows…” Nico trailed off, looking everywhere but Will. Expecting a loud scoff or perhaps a jeer, Nico could feel his hands clenching up, ready to get him out of this situation. But when he heard a little giggle and saw Will giving him a genuine little smile and holding out his hand, he couldn’t help but be surprised.

“I know that I’m currently meant to be working but I guess taking a little break couldn’t hurt. Besides, I haven't eaten a proper meal all day and those sandwiches look delicious.”

Nico happily let Will lead him to the room reserved for the staff who were in this case, just the Apollo kids. But then he stopped.

“You haven't eaten all day? Will, what the hell? You were nagging me the entire of my stay here to eat and you don't even do it yourself?”

“I do eat, it’s just sometimes, I forget to because everybody is being stupid and trying to fight their healers,” Will huffed as he grabbed a sandwhich and stuffed a bite into his mouth.

“What idiot tries to fight their healers?” Nico asked as he took a sip of juice. They were sitting in the corner of the ‘staff room’ which in reality was just the back room. It just had 2 bare beds for quick resting and back up medical supplies. There was a bare sink and a couple of cupboards which were most likely empty. The freezer however, had several pints of ice cream.

“Oh who tries to fight their healer? Must I remind you of your behaviour every time you're in this infirmary?”

Will opened a pack of chips that he had managed to snag from one of the other healers; he doubted they’d notice. Well, he hoped they wouldn't notice.

“I can’t be that bad.” Nico batted his hand in the air, his hand reaching over to Will’s pack of chips and stealing one. Will smacked his hand and gasped, showing his mock offence.

“Oi! Those are mine!”

“Says who?” Nico argued. “ I happen to know you stole them!”

“Yeah but finders keepers!”

“I will fight you for those chips,” Nico snarled. Will, smiling wickedly, held his front; not in the least intimidated by Nico's violent demeanor.

“Perfect, now we finally fight. After all, I did tell you that I’d fight you later when you were recovering.”

“I’ll turn you into ashes.”

“Nu uh, I don’t think so. Remember I have regeneration,” Will boasted. They were both now standing, their food abandoned on the table.

“If I remember correctly.” Nico moved forward for the attack, “You told me you wouldn’t fight me because you knew I would win.”

Will gave a smirk. “You were ill. I couldn't tell you the truth.”

Nico squinted his eyes and waited for Will’s punch. He didn’t expect for Will to be waiting for his; Oh right, Will always fights defensive

But then he realised that this could be used to his own advantage. He went in for an attack, his leg going round to kick the back of Will’s knees, making him buckle to the floor. Nico was aiming to disable him from moving, not hurt him.

I may be short, but that just means I can reach your knees.

Will let out a rueful laugh, the game was on. Just as when Nico went to grab Will's arm, Will used his other arm to grab Nico and used all his strength and Nico’s momentum to flip Nico onto his back so that when Nico looked up, He saw Will's smiling face.

Nico rolled away, quickly forcing his way up. They both stood facing each other, none of them throwing a punch or a kick. They were dancing around each other, around their feelings. Nico ran into Will and used every force in his favour to force Will to fall onto the bare bed behind him. They landed safely with an oomph and immediately Nico got to work in immobilising him.

Nico quickly straddled Will, trying to grab his arms but Will, while not the fastest, was relatively strong. He managed to grab Nico’s arm, stopping him from being trapped. He then used all the strength he could summon from his abdominal muscles and managed to flip Nico so that it was him holding both of Nico’s arms above his head, effectively pinning him to the bed.

Nico struggled but Will was too strong. He had tried to flip Will back onto his back but it was too hard so he settled for trying to wrestle his wrists out of the blond boy's grasp. They were panting and their faces were close enough that they could feel each other's warm breath on each other's face.

Nico felt his eyes being drawn to Will’s lips and then his ocean blue, like eyes. It was a magnet being drawn across Will's face and Nico had no choice but to follow it everywhere. From the perfect slant of his cupid’s bow at his lips and the fullness of his lips to the half lidded eyelids that covered his deep eyes. The eyes that we're currently analysing Nico’s face, in the same way he was doing to Will’s, right this moment.

Will felt Nico’s wrists stop resisting as much in his grasp as his eyes slowly drifted to his own. Their eyes locked. Ocean Blue met Onyx. The sea had met the depths of the earth and it was only the roaring sound of their own blood being pumped ferociously by their hearts that acted as the soundscape of the ocean as Will lowered his lips to meet Nico’s in the most tentative of kisses.

Their lips brushed gently, as a taster and then, Nico slipped one of his supposedly trapped wrists out of Will’s hands and slid it around Will’s neck, pulling him to deepen the kiss. Will’s face felt heated as he moved his hands from above Nico’s head to cup his face; he could feel the heat radiating from it.

They broke apart- only for a second- but alas, even that felt like too much. Their lips found each other again, even in the darkness of the room, due to sunset and yet they were only in the dark for a matter of seconds. Nico, despite having his eyes closed, could feel the soft glow of Will’s skin.

“Hey Will, Where did ya g-” The startled young healer was stunned before cringing immediately at their older brother.

“-Oh god, Will, My eyes! My eyes have been scarred, dear, good gracious Gods, Help me!”

Nico’s hands flew to Will’s chest, pushing him off while Will himself made an attempt to scramble off Nico. They keyword there being attempt, because the next thing he knew, Will had stumbled and managed to trip Nico into falling face first into Will’s chest, straddling him and thus making their situation so much worse.

“What do you want?” Will groaned at his younger sibling, as Nico climbed off him, slowly burying his face in his hands out of embarrassment.

“You have another patient to fix.” The kid was now holding his hands over his eyes- something that deeply irritated Nico.

“Oh calm down, it’s not like we were doing anythi-”

“-Nico!” Will cried. “ Go out and find someone to cover for me. Tell Kayla she’s in charge; I’m off for the night,” Will declared as he grabbed Nico’s hand, kicked open the back door and fled into the early night with Nico, hand in hand.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Rivals

A/N: @obsessedwithrandomthings​ requested some Neville angst in the form of enemies to lovers from me so here is what I hope is Neville angst! Honestly, it’s more rivals with a lot of unresolved sexual tension but I still hope you like! She also made this wonderful banner! I also don’t know if you can tell but I am really inspired by greek mythology and witchcraft lore in general (I'm a historian, what can I say?) and this fic is full of it so if that’s not your thing, then I apologise! Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Rival professors

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, gets a lil bit steamy

Word count: 4.7k

There wasn’t a man on the earth that could infuriate you more than Neville Longbottom.

And you had known Draco Malfoy for over a decade.

There was a history between the two of you; a natural hatred that came with the Slytherin/Gryffindor rivalry, but there was always something more. A deeper attraction that ran between the two of you despite how hard you rejected it.

He felt it too; and he fought it with every breath.

You thought you would get some reprieve upon your appointment as the Divination professor at Hogwarts, but as you entered the staff room your first week there, Neville Longbottom was stood speaking to Headmistress McGonagall.

“You have got to be shitting me?” You cry.

“Professor (Y/L/N)!” McGonagall admonishes.

“I’m sorry Headmistress, but seriously? Longbottom?”

“I’m not thrilled about the prospect of working with you either.” Neville drawls.

McGonagall looks between the two of you, a small frown pulling down the corners of her mouth, “I do hope you’ll get along in front of students.”

You glare at the tall brunette, “There’ll be no issue with that on my part, Headmistress.”

Neville returns your glare with just as much acid, “The one thing we’ll agree on then.”

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

It’s the little things he does that bother you; such as smirking at you from across the Great Hall or taking the last of the milk in the staff room. Neville knows exactly how to get a rise out of you, and he does an excellent job of it.

The rivalry that had seemingly ended upon the end of your education, promptly started back up again.

Constant competition broke out between Neville and yourself: who got the higher grades? Who had the highest pass rate? Who got the most laughs out their students?

It never ended. He would goad you, and you’d goad him right back. Practical jokes would be played on each other often. You were both frequent customers at the Weasley twin’s joke shop where materials were hoarded, and plans were formed.

McGonagall watched the two of you bicker in the staffroom; a regular occurrence. She watched the both of you argue from across the room with a fond look on her face. The rivalry would always be present between the two of you; and she was surprised – to say you were a gifted seer, you had not foreseen the palpable tension between Neville and yourself.

She watches the back and forth between the two of you; head moving as if watching a muggle tennis match. Insults and jibes are thrown between you both and yet, despite the bitterness of the words, there was no major malice in your voices.

McGonagall sips at her tea, rolling her eyes at the two of you. She supposes that it would only be a matter of time now.

----------

The week before term starts you get a letter of rejection in your notice box. Your application for the money for new textbooks had been denied. You scrunch the paper in your hands; feeling the all too familiar emotion of frustration running through your veins. Your argument for the textbooks was sound; it would be easier for the school to purchase the materials for the students than to rely on the students to use their own money.

You knock on the heavy, wooden door of McGonagall’s office; entering upon hearing her grant permission. “Headmistress, why has my application for new textbooks been rejected?”

“We’ve had to siphon funds for the Herbology trip.”

You see red, but keep a lid on your temper in front of your boss, “Pardon?”

“Divination is an elective subject; Herbology is compulsory through all seven years.” McGonagall reasons.

“So because of that, my students have to use textbooks that are falling apart?”

“We can add the material onto the reading list if that makes anything better?”

You sit back in your chair, “Term starts in a week. Students will have bought their books already. The very reason I applied for the textbooks was so that students didn’t have to buy them.”

McGonagall holds her hands up, “I’m sorry, Professor.”

You sigh through your nose, standing to leave, “Thank you for your time, Headmistress.”

Anger rises within you; all directed at the maddening Herbology professor. You understood that Herbology was a compulsory subject, and that it was very useful in determining a student’s future career as a Healer or a Potioneer. But Divination was becoming increasingly popular among the muggleborn students who grew up knowing the tales of tarot reading, palmistry and clairvoyance. And after the war, so many students sat in the class hoping for a relief in their grief – to find an answer to the well-asked question, do they find peace?

You confront Neville in the staff room, “The reason I cannot get new textbooks for my Sixth Years is because you’ve used the money for a trip to London to meet Herbert Beery?”

“He taught Herbology here before Professor Sprout, it is a worthwhile trip!”

You pause the rant sitting at the tip of your tongue; letting his words settle. “Repeat those very words for me, Longbottom.”

Neville frowns, “What?”

“Repeat. Those. Words.” You enunciate; each syllable pronounced.

“Herbert Beery taught Herbology here before Sprout. It’s a worthwhile experience for students interested in taking the subject further.”

The cushion in your hands hits Neville in the face. He looks at you astonished as you shout, “You’re taking students to meet an ex-professor?”

“What aren’t you understanding about this?” Neville questions as another cushion hits his face, “Stop doing that!” he yells.

“Why didn’t you bring him here?! He knows the school; it’s known territory! And it would have saved enough money so I could get my textbooks!” You throw more cushions at him; enjoying the way he has to dodge them. “You didn’t think this through at all, Longbottom.”

“Calm down, (Y/N). Your students can always buy the textbooks.”

“Not this close to term starting!” You throw yourself down onto the couch with a groan, “You’re an arsehole.”

Neville glares, “This trip is a once in a lifetime experience for my students. Herbert Beery is officially retiring from the field after this lecture.”

“And yet you couldn’t invite him to Hogwarts?”

“No.”

You stand, shoving his shoulder as you pass him to leave. “I can’t even begin to tell you how pissed I am. I can’t even look at you right now.”

Leaving him there, surrounded by couch cushions, you take a breather in the courtyard. Inhaling the fresh air, you start to see things more clearly. It seems that a friendship would never exist between the two of you; the rivalry stemming from Hogwarts running so deep that it could never be breached by kind words and actions.

A plan forms in your head for the perfect revenge, and it would mean a visit to Diagon Alley.

---------

If there was one thing that your education at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry had taught you, it was if you were going to prank someone, you had to make it a good one. George and Fred Weasley are more than happy to help you enchant the chalk; neither asking too many questions – they see the mischievous glint in your eye and know not to interrogate too much.

Neville walks into his classroom to find his students already sat in their seats. He lets them continue socialising as he sets up his materials for the day; this lesson focusing on the theory behind Herbology rather than hands-on practice. He grabs his chalk from the bottom of the board, proceeding to write the date and title before turning to his class, pulling their attention away from their friends and on to him.

It takes him two minutes to notice to amused expressions and the stifling of laughter.

It takes him five minutes to figure out why.

On the chalkboard behind is a caricature of his face on the body of a baby Mandrake. He’s crying big, fat tears that make their way down the length of the board before turning to dust at the bottom.

Neville can feel his face heat from the anger building within him and coursing through his veins, setting them alight. He knows exactly who’s behind this, and it isn’t any of his students.  

--------

Your class settle into their assigned seats; the crystal balls already placed in the centres of their tables. Once upon a time, students would groan at the sight of them, but now they regard them with interest.

You grin at your students, knowing what lesson they had last, “How was Herbology?”

Thomas Wadsworth in Ravenclaw begins to laugh, “I knew you would have something to do with it, Professor.”

“Was it obvious?”

He shakes his head, “Not really, but everyone knows of your rivalry.”

“How did he react?”

Shea Bard in Gryffindor raises her hand, “He went very red and muttered some curses before teaching us something else.”

You rub your hands together, “What else? Was it funny?”

“Very,” Shea nods, “But we didn’t dare laugh, no-one was in the mood to get a detention no matter how funny it was.”

You clap your hands together, pleased with the outcome. You’d have to send a thank you card to the Weasley twins for their genius minds.

“Why do you have this rivalry with Professor Longbottom?” A voice from the back asks.

Other students turn their eyes from their crystal balls to you; more interested in this topic of conversation rather than predicting their neighbour’s future.

You shrug, “We’ve never liked each other. He’s a Gryffindor and I’m a Slytherin.”

Thomas scoffs, “That can’t be it, surely? Give us something more, Professor.”

“What more is there? We went to school together and we never got on.”

Shea smiles, “With all respect Professor, you have to be aware of the tension between the two of you.”

“Tension?” You question, eyebrows furrowing.

Thomas raises his hand, counting the syllables off with his fingers, “Sex-u-al ten-shun.”

You stare wide-eyed at your class. Shea frowns, “Oh man, you weren’t aware of it were you?”

You clear your throat, “I have to know, how did my personal life become the topic for this class?”

“Since you won’t make a move on Professor Longbottom.”

“Thomas!” You chide.

He frowns, “I’m only saying what everyone else was thinking. It’s so obvious you fancy each other, it’s sickening.”

“Professor Longbottom and I have never gotten along. The most you’re going to see out of us is rivalry and cold stares.”

Thomas rolls his eyes, “Okay, Professor. If you get together before Christmas, Frances owes me Butterbeer for a month.”

“I’ll be sure to keep your bet in mind, Thomas, thank you.” You drawl with an unimpressed look, “Let’s get back to our crystal balls shall we?”

And just like that, the conversation over your personal life and your relationship with Neville Longbottom was over.

--------

The sound of your classroom door slamming shut has you jumping in your spot. You press a hand to your chest; trying to slow your racing heart as you take in the angry figure of Neville Longbottom.

“I know it was you.” He states, enunciating every word as if they were its own sentence. “I know it was you that planted the enchanted chalk in my classroom.”

You place a hand on your heart, grinning, “I am hurt that you would accuse me of such a thing, Longbottom.”

He stalks towards you, pressing you into your desk. He’s so close that you can smell the dirt from the greenhouse; it’s become the scent you associate with him.

“I spoke to the Weasley twins.”

Your grin shifts into a sly smirk, “The jig is up, you’ve caught me red-handed.”

The atmosphere between the two of become charged. The electricity in the air becoming magnetic; stirring something deep within your gut. Your eyes run over his face; taking in the widened pupils and the deepened breathing. He’s feeling it too; feeling it just as intense as you.

You resist the urge to drag him in for a kiss. You resist the urge to taste him; to memorise every inch of him with your fingers and mouth.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” You ask, voice breathless. He pushes himself away from you, stepping away quickly as your words land.

Neville storms out of your classroom; running both hands through his hair with a frustrated groan. You watch him leave, trying to slow the racing of your heart to no avail. He had no idea the reaction he could pull from you, but you were also unaware of the reaction, you could evoke from him.

You push your hair back from your forehead as you analyse your feelings for the Herbology professor; wondering when they had started to lean more towards to love than hatred.

You need to consult someone or something whether it be your cards or your tea leaves; everything feels so gnarled and scrambled, it felt impossible to make heads or tails of it all.

----------

Neville begins to enact his revenge a week later.

It starts with sitting next to you at the weekly briefings; sitting close enough to you where you can feel the warmth exuding from his body – sitting close enough to you where his thigh presses against yours. Through the briefing, he’d lean into you, whispering into your ear, asking for your thoughts. You clench the hand that’s resting on your thigh, and you feel rather than hear Neville’s amused snort at your action. He pulls away when McGonagall calls the end of the briefing and you’re left feeling suddenly cold at the lack of his touch.

He then moves onto catching your eye at every meal time. Upon which he smirks, running a hand over his jaw, not missing the way your eyes track the movement of his fingers. You turn away with a frown, drawing Professor Flitwick into a conversation about the latest journal on charms.

He decides to interrupt one of your lessons on the second day of his revenge. He enters your classroom using the ruse of searching for a student. Your mouth dries as you run your eyes up and down his body. His work overalls are tied at the waist; his muscles gloriously defined by a tight white t-shirt spattered with dirt from the plants, and the tattoos he got in memorial for the second wizarding war stand out against his lightly tanned skin.

In the years you had known Neville, you had watched him transform from a bumbling teenager into what could only be described as a Greek God.

The expression that falls across his face as you take in the sight of him makes it very clear to you that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You refuse to let him see how he’s getting to you. You shift your attention back to your class; not missing the way Thomas Cresswell points at Frances Bainbridge across the room, calling for the outcome of their bet. You roll your eyes at Thomas and Frances as you let the student Neville came for leave the classroom.

-----------

“What are you doing?” You hiss at him on the third day of his revenge.

He smirks, “Absolutely nothing.”

“If this is your revenge for my prank, it’s messed up, Longbottom.”

Neville’s eyes widen; his face the picture of perfect innocence, “What makes you think that?”

He walks away before you can answer, leaving you questioning the last week of your life.

You finish your week confused and frustrated. The feelings that had always been present for Neville were riled up; you were thinking of him more often, remembering how his thigh felt pressed against yours and the attention he paid you from across the Great Hall at every meal time.

Your heart races every time you think of him, and your stomach erupts in butterflies. You  spend your free periods thinking of how he would feel pressed against you, and how his stubble would feel under your lips. More often than not, you would find yourself with your head in your hands, cursing the day you ever let the Herbology professor into your life.

----------

It was the very last thing you wanted to do, but it was something you needed to do. A headache had been brewing now for three days, ever since Neville cooled off with his revenge for your chalkboard prank. The headache was making you sharper with your students that you intended to be.

This wasn’t a usual headache though; it had stemmed from your witches-eye - becoming a seer’s headache very quickly. The only way this could be relieved was to fall into it; opening your eye and being shown what you needed to see.

You find Neville in one of the many greenhouses dedicated to Herbology. He stands over the freshly potted Mandrakes, sprinkling fertiliser on them. You lean against the door to the greenhouse, rubbing the centre of your forehead. “Longbottom, I wouldn’t usually ask this of you, but I need access to the restricted greenhouse.”

Neville frowns, “Why would you need to go there?”

“There’s a plant I need. Would you please take me?”

“It’s nothing dangerous is it?”

You shake your head, refusing to speak as it would give away your lie.

Neville takes a set of keys from his pocket, searching for a minute for the lesser-used key. You follow him as he leads you to the restricted greenhouse. Such as with the library, the greenhouses had an area controlled against student use for it grew plants that were not only dangerous, but deadly. Mandrakes were one thing - the plants grown here had helped dark wizards gain fame, fortune, power, and all at a cost.

Neville waits at the door as you walk through the greenhouse, looking for the pale yellow flower covered in veins. You find it in little to no time at all, picking a few flowers from the plant. A petal would be fine for now; Henbane could be deadly if used in large quantities. Taking more than what you needed was your way of assuring that you wouldn’t need to bother Neville again.

You make your way back to Neville, smiling smally at the questioning expression on his face. “Did you get everything you need?” he asks.

You nod, patting the little bag in which you had stored the Henbane flowers, “I got it. Thank you, Neville.”

The walk back to the staff room is in silence. You make to walk back to your tower, ready to start the drying process for the Henbane flower, but a hand grips your wrist. You turn to find Neville holding you in place, “You’re being careful, aren’t you (Y/N)? There’s a reason that greenhouse is restricted.”

You pull your wrist from his grip, “I’ll be fine, Neville. Thanks for your concern.”

You walk away before he can say anything else.

--------

Nothing felt clear; everything felt frazzled and vague. It was as if the very threads of your life had become a tangled, snarled mess. Your realisation of your feelings for Neville had left you in a lurch; you’ve caught him watching you multiples times now – all with a puzzled expression on his face, as if reliving the restricted greenhouse and the revenge from your prank on him.  

Your hands run over the top of scrying bowl. The bowl had been handed down to you by your grandmother who had been a powerful seer; it depicts the Triple Goddess in her three forms – maiden, mother, crone.

Incense fills your office; the scent of the Black Henbane given to you by Neville. Henbane had been demonised for centuries; scholars noting that it was used in ointments and could help with conjuring of spirits.

You inhale its smell; your witches-eye opening, more sensitive in the right environment. So few witches possessed the gifts of a seer, it was rare for you to use your talent – usually letting the prophecies and such come to you naturally.

But this was needed. You needed answers for why your tea leaves were conflicting and why your tarot readings were not making sense.

An ethereal voice calls out in greeting, signalling that you had reached the other side, “You called me, daughter.”

“The path is foggy, and I’ve lost my way. I thought I was certain but now I’m not.”

“There is no way forward that does not have him in it.”

“What do you mean?”

“The one who gave you the Henbane to call me forth. He is with you through it all.”

Neville? Neville.

“He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t even like me.”

“Do not be too sure, daughter.”

Your eyebrows pull together, a puzzled expression taking over your face. You knew your feelings for the professor had changed; had felt the long dormant passion flare again but there was nothing to be done about it.

The pull of the spirits is intoxicating; you can feel their hands on your shoulders and arms, caressing your face, pulling you closer and closer – begging you to help them find peace, to answer their questions, to help pay the ferryman but you cannot.

A male voice shouting your name has you refusing the screams of the spirits.

The voice shouts again; it’s closer now, corporeal hands shake your shoulders in an attempt to pull you out of your trance, but there’s no luck.

The goddess bids you farewell before everything falls black.

----------

Your vision comes back to you slowly; black spots still dancing across your view of the vaulted ceiling of the hospital wing. You groan at the pounding in your head, bringing a hand up to rub at your forehead.

“(Y/N)?” A male voice asks; a familiar voice.

The feeling of a cool cloth being pressed to your forehead has you sighing in relief, “That feels nice.”

Neville’s face comes into view; his eyes run over your face, checking for what – you don’t know.  “You’ve been in contact with higher powers – that’s why you asked for Black Henbane, isn’t it?”

You take the cool cloth from him, “I needed to see something.”

“You put yourself at risk doing this.” Neville bluntly states.

You groan, “I know.”

“Was it worth it?” He asks, narrowing his eyes, “Did you get your answers?”

You nod, averting your eyes – focusing on the vaulted ceiling rather than the man sitting next to you. Shame washes over you from the tone of his voice – reproach mixed with something akin to worry. You smile a little, “Neville Longbottom,” you tease, “Were you worried about me?”

“What was so important that you needed to contact higher powers? You know how addicting they can be!” He chides; ignoring your question completely.

You purse your lips, refusing to answer.

Neville leans forward in his chair, bracing his elbows on his knees, “What was so important?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“I was the one who found you, did you know that? I found you bent over your scrying bowl, talking to spirits and the higher powers. It was me who pulled you out before they could take something more permanent.”

“And I’m grateful for that, Neville.”

“But you won’t tell me why you had to consult them?”

You push yourself into a sitting position slowly; pausing only to stave off the wave of dizziness and nausea. Neville stands, his hands outstretched to help but you wave him away, telling him you’re okay. He doesn’t look like his believes you, but he steps back, nonetheless.

“I needed some answers about my future, about my feelings. It’s all so blurred, even my tea leaves don’t make sense!”

“So you decided to use your scrying bowl? (Y/N), you had trouble with this when we were students.”

“I’m surprised you remember.”

“Of course I remember, why wouldn’t I?”

“We weren’t exactly the best of friends.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t notice you.”

“You noticed me?”

“I always notice you, that’s how I found you. You asking for Black Henbane had me consulting my own textbooks and when I read it was used to help see the future more clearly, I followed you.”

You both lapse into a heavy, charged silence. Neville throws his hands in the air before setting them on his hips as he paces the two steps in front of your bed. You want to groan in frustration; want to scream and shout but it would do no good.

“What are we doing, Neville?” You finally ask, voice tired and head foggy.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean us. The pranks, the teasing, the unresolved tension.”

Neville sits back down, crossing his arms, “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

You pull the cloth from your forehead, glaring at the brunette, “Oh that’s a load of bullshit and you know it.”

He glares in return but doesn’t say a word.

“We have been dancing around this for years, Neville. I’m sick of having to pretend I hate you.”

“You don’t hate me?”

You shake your head, “You piss me the fuck off, but I don’t hate you.”

“I don’t hate you either.” He whispers.

“So what do we do?”

“Honestly, I’d like to take you out to dinner,” Neville states, confidence running through his body.

“Dinner?”

“What’s wrong with dinner?”

You bite your lip, running your eyes over him. He’s standing again, as if unable to sit still through this conversation. His eyes are bright with happiness and another emotion you can’t quite put your finger on; he’s entirely delectable. Merlin, in for a penny, as the muggles say, “How about we skip dinner and go to back to my rooms?”

Neville leans in close; his breath fanning over your face. He smells like recently mown grass, freshly fallen rain, and a hint of lime. It’s intoxicating. His eyes search yours for permission; you granting it as you tilt your face up to meet his, you close your eyes at his proximity, taking it all in. He lightly brushes his lips against yours, with a feather-light pressure that has you chasing him for more. He pulls away with a light chuckle at the look of frustration on your face.

“After dinner,” he promises.

The note of promise in his voice has your breath quickening and your toes curling. In the time that you had known this man, you had hated him but now, all you did was crave him.

His touch, his look, his attention. The goddess had promised you that there was no version of your future without him in it, and now...

And now, you were more than ready for that future.

“I’ll hold you to that.” You murmur, breathless from the thoughts running through your head.

---------

A month later:

Neville finds you in your classroom writing the information for your first lesson of the day on the board in chalk. He leans against the door as he closes it. Neville watches you; his eyes running over every curve and dip in your body, thinking of how less than twelve hours ago he was worshipping it with his mouth and hands. He bites down a groan at the memory; your gasps and moans echoing in his ear – he can still feel the dull ache of the scratches on his back, from your fingernails reaching for purchase.

He struts over to you; enjoying the surprised yelp that leaves your mouth as his arms wrap around your stomach, but he loves the way you soon relax into him, your hands coming to rest on top of his. Neville presses a kiss to the crook between your neck and ear, smirking against your skin as he hears your breath hitch.

Neville leans close, his mouth to your ear, “I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.”

You hum happily, arching into the touch of his hands as they trail lower, starting to undo the fastenings to your skirt.

You knew he would come; you’d played another prank on him, but this time you knew what the outcome would be.

You turn your face, pressing your lips to his cheek before trailing them across his jawbone, enjoying the look of your lipstick staining his skin. “What did you have in mind?” you whisper, breathless from the excitement coursing through your veins.

He smirks as he bends you face down over your desk.

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

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[harrowharkboygf]

Game Night

a short post-season 5 oneshot. read on ao3

——

Catra liked to think of herself as a dedicated person. There were a lot of things she still hated about herself—the therapist Perfuma had recommended to her had said during their first session that it would take time to fully forgive herself, to get out of the “self-destructive mindset” she had spent so long embracing. But she at least prided herself on her resolve, her resilience, her determination.

However, it turned out that in terms of determination, she was nothing compared to the princesses’ crazed desire to hold as many social events as physically possible.

At first, during the initial celebration at Brightmoon and the stream of Thank You For Saving The World, Princesses! parties that were thrown in their honor as they traveled across Etheria to help with rebuilding efforts, Catra thought that this was just because of the circumstances. Everyone was clearly thrilled to be alive and happy that the princesses were back to being heroes, and they wanted to commemorate the occasion with festivities.

(It was still weird to think of herself like that. As a member of the Princess Alliance. Would it ever get less strange?)

But then Catra learned that the princesses were just like that. There were endless game nights and iceball tournaments and flower crown-making circles and picnics and trips around Etheria just for the purpose of seeing the sights. Late night planning meetings that turned into sleepovers, and visits to their allies under the guise of “checking in” that held no tactical purpose in the end.

This was so foreign, so beyond her reality; she had grown up in the Horde, where her idea of free time was just more training. Her only celebrations came in the form of stolen moments with Adora and extra ration bars, which she hoarded like it was water in the Crimson Wastes.

But despite how skeptical she acted, deep down Catra loved it, even the flower crowns. She discovered that she was very good at iceball—so good that she and Adora were banned from playing against each other on the grounds of being too competitive. (Thankfully, Glimmer and Frosta were equally worthy opponents.) Spinnerella and Netossa were more than happy to teach her all their tricks; Catra found the couple oddly comforting, a nice, stable, older presence that she’d never had before.

But above all, Catra loved the quiet moments the most. Late sleepovers with the Best Friend Squad (her attempts to change the name to something more badass, like the Kickass Comrades, had been shot down) had, much to her surprise, become one of her favorite things. The old Catra would have scoffed seeing her now, eating sweets and giggling late into the night, but she didn’t care. Arrow Boy and Sparkles had actually become her friends, dignity be damned.

And of course, there was Adora. Beautiful, amazing, wonderful Adora, with her sparkling blue eyes and soft lips and strong arms that always ended up wrapped around Catra. She could hardly believe it was real, that Adora loved her. She wondered if she would ever be able to wake up and not stare in disbelief at the sight of Adora lying next to her, staring at her with soft, loving eyes. If one day she would stop fearing that all of it was a dream.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Glimmer shouted. “Quit being gross and get over here so you can finish helping us!”

They had spent the last two weeks in what had formerly been known as the Fright Zone, and what was soon to become Scorpia’s kingdom. The still-newly-minted princess had decided to use it as a refuge for former Horde soldiers who were looking to turn over a new leaf. “After all,” Scorpia had said, “if Catra and Adora and I all changed, everyone else can, too.”

But unsurprisingly, the place was still, as Catra put it, full of shit. So the Princess Alliance decided to clean it up and redecorate.

“You said we could take a water break!” protested Adora.

“Yeah,” said Catra, smirking. “We’re so thirsty.” She blinked innocently up at Glimmer from her perch on Adora’s lap, one arm slung around her shoulders and the other hand playing with her blonde hair.

Mermista, who was carrying a stack of boxes nearby, rolled her eyes. “Yeah you are,” she muttered. Behind her, Sea Hawk gave them a thumbs up.

Glimmer put her hands on her hips, shaking her head. “I said you could take a water break when Adora tried to lift a literal tank without shifting into She-Ra. But that was twenty minutes ago! Let’s go, you two. Chop chop.”

Adora’s gaze was fixed on Catra, a soft smile sliding across her lips. “Just a minute,” she told Glimmer, not breaking eye contact with Catra. Gently, she tipped her head upwards and kissed her. Catra let herself dissolve into the kiss, closing her eyes and exhaling.

They pulled apart only to press their foreheads together. “I think we’re annoying,” Adora stage-whispered.

Catra barely kept herself from giggling. (Giggling. What the fuck, honestly.) “You think?” she asked.

She heard Glimmer say, “Bow! Come help me!” Then she felt hands wrap around her as Bow and Glimmer bodily lifted her up off of Adora’s lap. She hissed in fake-annoyance, squirming in their grip.

“Don’t pretend you two are much better!” she shrieked as they deposited her onto a pile of stacked bedrolls. “I saw you feeding Sparkles at breakfast!”

Frosta scoffed as she used her ice powers to hang a lantern. “I get it, you’re all gross! When can we be done? I’m bored!”

Scorpia delicately set a plant down on a nearby windowsill, mindful of her claws. “Soon! Thank you so much for your help, guys. The place looks great.” Everyone beamed, pausing to look around and admire their handiwork.

It did look great. The walls had been painted a lighter color, and the hallways were now well-lit, filled with softer, more pleasant decor. The clanging of machinery still echoed, but gone was the smoke and pollution; Entrapta had spent a long time working on a more clean form of energy, one that was better for magic and the planet and whatever.

Speaking of the pig-tailed princess—“Where’s Entrapta?” asked Catra. “She didn’t want to come and invent some bot to help us?”

Perfuma adjusted her girlfriend’s placement of the potted plant, trying to give it as much sunlight as possible. “She’s very busy with all her new ethical science projects now—”

“Semi-ethical,” corrected Bow, rubbing the back of his neck.

“—But she was invited to our celebration tomorrow night! Hopefully we will see her then.”

“Another party? It never ends, does it?” Catra said to Adora, who had come back to stand at her side.

Perfuma clasped her hands together. “Oh, this one will just be a small get-together. We’ll throw a big party once all of Scorpia’s citizens move in, but this is just for us princesses!”

“And Bow and Catra and Sea Hawk,” Mermista reminded her.

Perfuma shrugged. “Honorary princesses!”

Adora cleared her throat. “Alright, team, let’s get these last few things in place. We can pick up the little bit that’s left tomorrow morning. I think it’s bedtime.”

——

“And then I said, “Uh, your ship’s on fire!’”

The room burst in laughter. Catra wiped a tear from her eye as she cackled—there was something about Mermista’s deadpan delivery that made all her stories way funnier than anyone else’s. “And did you ever run into that pirate again?” she asked.

Sea Hawk spread his arms grandly. “Why, of course! He approached us a short time later to tell us how our genius and fighting prowess inspired him, and how he had decided to become an artist and build statues in our honor. To this day, his children sing our praises around campfires.”

At the same time, Mermista shook her head and said, “Nope. Never saw him again.”

This unleashed another wave of giggles. Still snickering, Catra leaned forward in her seat and took a cookie off the plate on the table in front of her. As she did so, Frosta opened her mouth wide and pointed wordlessly at it. Catra rolled her eyes and tossed a cookie at her. She caught it in her mouth and gave a muffled cheer as she chewed.

Bow rubbed his hands together. “Okay, guys, let’s get started.” He gestured at the table in front of them, which would soon be the center of Scorpia’s strategy room. Tonight, however, it was covered with a big game board and several playing pieces, dice, and stacks of cards. “Here’s how we play—”

“We’re here!”

Entrapta practically bounced into the room, Emily close at her side, beeping cheerfully. Wrong Hordak followed close behind them, smiling his typical sheepish smile and holding a tray crammed with an almost-impossible amount of tiny pink cupcakes.

Adora stood up to greet them. “Hey, guys! Welcome to…”

Her voice trailed off abruptly as the last guest entered. Catra felt her heart begin to pound; she stood up too, curling her claws into fists. Melog, who had been sleeping next to the sofa the Best Friend Squad was sharing, sprang to its feet, hissing. The rest of the group froze, exchanging shocked glances.

Hordak (the real one) stood in the doorway, somehow managing to look both awkward and stern. “Hello,” he said shortly, his deep voice echoing slightly.

When no one answered for a long, tension-filled minute, Entrapta looked rapidly between the group and Hordak, her eyes wide with confusion. “Sorry we’re late,” she said tentatively. “Did I…did I bring too many people?”

Mermista buried her head in her hands and let out a muffled scream. Sea Hawk patted her arm sympathetically.

Catra struggled to choose between saying What is he doing here and Absolutely fucking not and just straight-up attacking him. Judging by her facial expression, across the table Frosta was thinking along the same lines.

Entrapta twirled one of her ponytails around her nervously, her smile slowing sliding off her face the longer the silence dragged on. Next to her, Wrong Hordak shifted from foot to foot. “Uh…”

Perfuma hastily jumped up, a fake smile plastered on her face. “We’re so glad you could come!” she chirped, flinging her arms around her.

Wrong Hordak joined the hug. “I have missed you, brothers!” he told them tearfully.

At Perfuma’s pointed look, Scorpia and Frosta made space for the newcomers, bringing over more chairs.

“Will you be joining us, Hordak?” Catra asked icily, sneering at him.

“Be nice,” Bow whispered to her.

“She has a point,” Glimmer whispered back.

Hordak glared right back at her. “Entrapta invited me. Am I not welcome here?”

Adora managed to pick her jaw up off the floor. “Uhhh…no, um, take a seat. Bow was just about to tell us how this game works.” She sat down, pulling Catra down with her.

Bow started to explain, occasionally being interrupted by Frosta, Perfuma, and Sea Hawk, who all had their own opinions on how the rules should be interpreted. Meanwhile, Catra hissed quietly, “Are we seriously just going to play a board game with Hordak of all people?”

“He’s changed, I guess,” Adora murmured back.

On her other side, Glimmer rolled her eyes. “Allegedly.”

After the war had ended, the Rebellion didn’t really know what to do with Hordak. Sure, he had saved Entrapta and turned against Horde Prime, but they weren’t just going to let him sit back on his throne. Originally Catra had been in favor of dumping his ass in the Crimson Wastes, but Huntara was having none of it.

So eventually the princesses settled on letting him live in Dryl with Entrapta, as long as he swore never to hold any political power or territory for the rest of his life. An oath they would make sure he held, with magic to ensure it, if necessary.

“I don’t trust him,” Catra murmured.

Adora placed a comforting hand on her thigh. “Me neither, but Entrapta trusts him. And whatever makes her happy, we’ll support.”

They watched Hordak sneer as Perfuma tried to offer him some fruit juice. She frowned back at his rude behavior, huffing in that trying-to-be-dignified-yet-offended way of hers. Frosta looked like she wanted to stick his head in an ice block. Meanwhile, Entrapta was in full science mode, spilling out a detailed lecture about dice and probability.

“Even if the thing that makes her happy is Hordak?” grimaced Glimmer.

Adora sighed, rubbed her forehead. “Even so,” she said glumly.

Bow clapped his hands, signaling the end of his rules explanation. “Okay, does everyone get it?”

“Yes,” said Catra.

“Totally,” said Glimmer.

“Yeah…” said Adora.

Bow gave them a look that suggested he knew they hadn’t been listening at all. “Okay, let’s get started!”

Thankfully, Catra was able to figure it out as she went. The game was fairly simple: the players had to try to be the first one to make it around a map of Etheria, while fighting mythical monsters and challenges along the way. She leaned forward, smirking, her competitive nature taking over. “You’re all going down,” she said, making a show of cracking her knuckles.

Glimmer scooped up the dice and began to shake them. “As if!”

Scorpia laughed and shook her head. “No, guys, Perfuma is the champion at this game. She’s beaten me every time, she’s that amazing.”

The flower princess blushed a deep crimson. “Oh, Scorpia!” she trilled. “You are amazing too!”

Catra watched this play out fondly. Despite her and Scorpia’s…rocky history, she was genuinely sorry for all the pain she’d caused her. Although Scorpia had said she forgave her, there was a while after the war where things had been awkward, uncomfortable. She was happy to see that the former Force Captain had found someone who could make her happier than Catra ever could.

Hordak made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. It took her a minute to realize that he was laughing. “This is a childish competition,” he announced, sounding annoyed.

Mermista rested her chin on her palm. “You’re just mad that you couldn’t conquer Etheria and now you can’t win this board game.”

Hordak stiffened. “How dare—”

“Okay!” Bow interceded, his voice hinging on hysteria. “Glimmer will start!”

They went around in a circle, their game pieces slowly advancing with each roll of the dice. Catra was not thrilled when Glimmer rolled four tens in a row and she kept only rolling ones and twos. Thankfully, she was able to get Sparkles back when she pulled a Brightmoon-themed card and “teleported” her to the little red and yellow spot on the board that was supposed to represent the Crimson Wastes.

Scorpia was, unsurprisingly, the best sport about this. While everyone else soon succumbed to playfully cursing each other out as they scrambled to keep their game piece ahead of the group, Scorpia was the one congratulating everyone even when they fucked her over.

Even Perfuma huffed when Frosta got her stuck in the “Northern Reach”. “This is a betrayal,” she sniffed dramatically, crossing her arms. “I will never, ever forgive you.” A moment later, she cracked a smile and winked at the younger girl to let her know she was joking.

Wrong Hordak landed on a “Magic Zone” square and whipped out a card. “Do not worry, sister! This piece of paper says the Sorcerers’ Guild has granted me the power of…time travel! I will reverse your plight!” he declared. He reached down and daintily picked up Perfuma’s piece so he could place it back on the path.

Perfuma giggled. “My hero!”

“That was supposed to be used for your piece,” Entrapta pointed out, fidgeting with a small gear as she waited for her turn.

Adora shrugged. “Eh, let him do what he wants,” she said. She leaned back and not-so-casually draped her arm over Catra’s shoulders. She leaned into her girlfriend’s touch happily.

Entrapta pulled out the recorder she clearly kept with her at all times. “Observation number two hundred and fifty-three: when playing games, rules are to be broken at the player’s convenience.”

“Now you’ve got the spirit!” chuckled Sea Hawk, who was currently attempting to steal alien chips off of Mermista’s plate. Every time she caught him, he gave her the most lovestruck eyes he could pull off until she let her snag a chip.

Wrong Hordak handed the dice to Actual Hordak. “Your turn, brother!”

Hordak took the dice emotionlessly and rolled it. A five. He moved his game piece to the appropriate square.

“You landed on a runestone!” Perfuma cheered. “That means you get to move ahead five spaces!”

Hordak frowned down at the tiny drawing. “This pathetic image looks nothing like the real Black Garnet. It fails to capture the strength, the raw power that eminented from my runestone. How comical.”

“Your runestone?” Catra repeated, raising one eyebrow. “It’s not yours anymore, Hordak.”

He glowered at her. “In a better life, it was.”

Glimmer narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying that—”

Entrapta scooped up the dice. “My turn!” she chirped.

Adora hastily stood up, gripping both Glimmer and Catra’s arms tightly. “We are going to get more fruit juice!” she said. “Bow, will you come with us?”

His grin was particularly strained. “Of course!”

They both looked at Glimmer. “Fiiiine,” she sighed, before transporting the Best Friend Squad to the nearby kitchen.  

Once there, Adora immediately turned to Catra and Glimmer. Melog slunk in after them, not wanted to be separated from its owner.

“He’s a terrible person!” protested Catra, already knowing what she was going to say. “I want him out of here.”

“Everyone did terrible things while they were in the Horde,” Bow reminded her gently as he poured more fruit juice into cups. Including you was the unspoken meaning behind that sentence. She looked down at the ground.

“But,” Bow said, handing her a cup, “what matters is that they’ve changed.”

Glimmer took the juice pitcher out of his hands, kissing his cheek. “I agree with Catra,” she told him as she poured. “Hordak might have said he was sorry, but he doesn’t act like it.”

“ And ,” added Catra, emboldened by someone siding with her, “he’s just straight up gross. How someone could possibly find that greasy-haired stick-up-his-ass attractive is just absolutely beyond me—”

“I know! He’s all—” Glimmer deepened her voice, hunched her shoulders. “—‘Pathetic princesses! You know nothing of true power! I am Hordak, Prince of Evil! Mwahahaha!’”

Catra laughed so hard she choked, and almost fell over.

Even Bow, who was rooting through the cabinets looking for more napkins, chuckled. “That’s cute,” he told her.

She winked at him. “ I’m cute.”

“You are.” He pulled her into a hug from behind, pressing his lips to the side of her head.

Adora took Catra’s hand. “Just please try to refrain from killing him for tonight,” she asked. “Afterwards, you and Glimmer and Mermista can start an I Hate Hordak club if you want.”

Catra tugged playfully on her ponytail. “Don’t tempt me. I will run that club.”

Her girlfriend poked her cheek in return before helping Glimmer and Bow stack the cups of fruit juice onto a tray. Catra grabbed another bag of alien chips, just in case.

“Alright,” said Adora, carefully balancing the heavily-stacked tray and ignoring everyone else eying her worriedly. “Ready?”

Bow winced as the tray wobbled dangerously when she took a step. “Adora, do you need—”

“I got it!”

Glimmer shook her head. “Maybe we’d better walk back to the strategy room. I don’t know if those cups can survive a teleportation trip.”

“We’ll be fine!” Adora assured her, and then promptly tripped, sending the tray flying.

——

“I’m really proud of you,” Adora told her as they waved goodbye to the group. They all had to return to their own kingdoms; it still wasn’t stable to be gone for too long.

Catra looked up at her. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, you—” She was cut off by a yell of frustration coming from the direction of the skiff waiting to take their friends back to Dryl.

The two of them watched Wrong Hordak and Entrapta attempt to bodily lift Emily onto the skiff, which was hovering a few feet above the ground. The bot was nothing more than deadweight, beeping irritably.

“Her programming is due for an update soon,” Entrapta explained. “Sometimes she gets sulky like this.”

“She doesn’t wanna say goodbye to her friends,” Frosta said. She seemed particularly pouty herself. She had become particularly clingy after the war ended, and probably wasn’t happy about having to go back to her own kingdom alone after spending so much time with everyone.

Catra could relate.

“We’ll see everyone again soon,” Glimmer reminded her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We’re throwing a celebration once Perfuma and Scorpia get everyone settled here, remember?”

“Yeah,” said Frosta, sticking out her lip grumpily.

Wrong Hordak shrieked as one of Emily’s appendages kicked him in the face. He dropped her with a thud.

“Emily!” scolded Entrapta. “Not nice!” Scorpia and Perfuma moved to help them, which definitely made things more successful. Meanwhile, Hordak watched the whole scene unfold from inside the skiff, not bothering to offer his help.

“As I was saying,” Adora said, still chuckling, “I’m really proud of you, Catra. I—I know it can be hard to keep your anger in check when you’re dealing with…”

“With the former dictator of our childhood?” she finished. “I know.”

“You’ve come a long way.”

Catra laced their fingers together, leaned against her shoulder. “So have you.”

Mermista called Frosta over to their skiff, where Sea Hawk was helping her load up their bags. The game night victor gave Glimmer a hug, then Bow, Adora, and, to her surprise, Catra. “See you later, Horde Scum,” Frosta said, parroting her mentor.

Catra grinned back at her. “See you later, princess.”

From the skiff, Mermista tossed a wadded-up piece of paper to Catra. “I look forward to it!” she shouted as Sea Hawk helped Frosta into the skiff.

“Me too!” Catra shouted back.

Adora looked curiously at the paper ball. “What’s that?”

Catra handed it to her without saying a word, smirking. Adora unfolded it, revealing a flyer.

The I HATE HORDAK Club

Calling all Etherians!

Do YOU hate the former Horde Lord?

Do YOU fantasize about ruining his day?

If so, this is the place for you!!!

Meetings will be held at Brightmoon Castle. Any questions, please see Catra or Princess Mermista.