#dare I say this is giving twins verse

[seethesunny]

MY BEST FRIENDS MY FAMILY MY MOST BELOVED PEOPLE 🥹❤️

✨ girl dad Joel ✨

made for @kokureno

[littlesparklight]

Got the (foolish lol) idea to go through some of the works I know give physical descriptions of at least some Trojan war characters and collate them. They aren't in alphabetic order, sorry, but the works/authors are colour coded, at least!

I'll do this in two parts; this one for Achaean characters, the next one for Trojans. Watch Philostratus fanboy over Palamedes and Protesilaos (why????) and marvel, when compared to basically everyone else's description, across all works!

Helen The Iliad: 'terribly does she seem like the immortal goddesses to look on' (spoken of her, not narration), divine/shining/noble among women In Hesiod and other works she is given the xanthos = blond/auburn/etc epithet Dares: Helen resembled Castor and Pollux. She was beautiful, ingenuous, and charming. Her legs were the best; her mouth the cutest. There was a beauty-mark between her eyebrows. (Castor and Pollux: they were twins, blond haired, large eyed, fair complexioned, and wellbuilt with trim bodies.) Malalas, Chronographia: full-grown, well-dressed, with fine breasts, white as snow, with beautiful eyebrows, a beautiful nose, shapely, curly-haired, blonde-ish, with big eyes, charming, with a beautiful voice, a formidable sight among women. She was 26 years old. Tzetzes, Antehomerica: white, with soft skin and beautiful eyebrows and nose. Her skin was so white and bright as if it was made of snow. She had lovely breasts and a pretty face; she had languishing and large eyes and a melodious charming voice; she had long, curly, blond hair; she was well-behaved and perfect in everything she did; she was a lot more beautiful than all the other women, just like the moon is brighter than all the stars in the sky. At that time she was twenty six years old.

Agamemnon The Iliad: '[…] tell me the name of this gigantic man. […] To be sure there are other men even greater in height, […] handsome, nor so majestic, for he seems a kingly man.' Dares: blond, large, and powerful. He was eloquent, wise, and noble, a man richly endowed. Philostratus, Heroicus: Agamemnon and Menelaos were alike neither in appearance nor strength. […] He looked majestic and magnificent and like the sort of person who offered sacrifice to the Graces. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: white, big, of a wide chin and dark hair. He was well-bearded, well-educated, resembling the blessed ones.

Menelaos The Iliad: xanthos = blond/auburn/bright, 'standing towered with his broad shoulders. Dares: moderate stature, auburn-haired, and handsome. He had a pleasing personality. Philostratus, Heroicus: Agamemnon and Menelaos were alike neither in appearance nor strength. […] [he] wore his hair boyishly long, as was the Spartan custom, and the Achaeans made allowance for him when he was visiting, since they did not mock those who came from Euboea even though their hair was ridiculously long. He says he conversed most easily and very concisely, mixing pleasant speech with his discourse. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: the bodily frame smaller [than Agamemnon]; he had a breadth, though. He had a red skin, dense beard and blond hair.

Odysseus The Iliad: 'lesser in height than Agamemnon […], but he seems broader in the shoulders and chest.' (Also shorter than Menelaos.) Dares: tough, crafty, cheerful, of medium height, eloquent, and wise. Philostratus, Heroicus: extremely skilled in public speaking and clever, but he was a dissembler, a lover of envy, and praised malice. His eyes were always downcast, and he was the sort of person who engages in self-examination. He appeared more noble than he was in military matters; surely he was not well versed in preparing for war, in commanding naval battles and sieges, or in drawing of spear and bows. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: middle-aged, pot-bellied, white, with plain hair, nose looking down and fiercely glaring.

Achilles Dares: a large chest, a fine mouth, and powerfully formed arms and legs. His head was covered with long wavy chestnut-colored hair. Though mild in manner, he was very fierce in battle. His face showed the joy of a man richly endowed. Philostratus, Heroicus: For Achilles' physique appeared startling and divine […] When he became an ephebe, a brightness radiated from his face, and his body was beyond natural size, since he grew more easily than do trees near springs. […] hair is thick, lovelier than gold, and becoming no matter where and how either the wind or he himself may move it. His nose is not quite aquiline, but almost so; his brow is crescent-shaped. The spirit in his eyes, which are bluish-gray, casts off a certain eagerness even when he is still; when he is rushing on, they spring out along with his purpose, and then he seems more lovely than ever to those who cherish him. (long hair until Patroklos dies) Tzetzes, Posthomerica: tall, of a beautiful chest, graceful in everything, white, of blond curly and thick hair. He had a big nose, melodious voice and the eyes of a woman. His glance was terrible, in a race was swift-footed; he had long legs and scanty beard.

Patroklos Dares: handsome and powerfully built. His yes were gray. He was modest, dependable, wise, a man richly endowed. Philostratus, Heroicus: Patroklos, although he was not much older than Achilles, was a divine and sensible man, […] In size and bravery he was between the two Ajaxes. He fell short of the son of Telamon in all things, but he surpassed both the size and bravery of the son of Locris. Patroklos had an olive complexion, black eyes, and sufficiently fine eyebrows, and he commended moderately long hair. His head stood upon his neck as the wrestling schools cultivate. His nose was straight, and he flared his nostrils as eager horses do. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: middle-aged, potbellied and well-bearded. He had blond hair, red skin and lovely face.

Ajax, the son of Telamon The Iliad: 'outstanding among the Argives in height and broad shoulders' ; repeatedly called only second to Achilles in everything but looks. Dares: powerful. His voice was clear, his hair black and curly. He was perfectly single-minded and unrelenting in the onslaught of battle. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: brave, great, quick, with a nice nose and curly hair; He had a dark skin; he was well-bearded and grim-looking. He was more beautiful than everybody, except for Achilles.

Ajax, the son of Oileus The Iliad: lesser [than Ajax the great] by far, for he was a small man […] Dares: stocky, powerfully built, swarthy, a pleasant person, and brave. Philostratus, Heroicus: appeared less intelligent [than Diomedes and Sthenelus] […] looking fierce, and throwing his long hair back Malalas, Chronographia: tall, strong, tawny, squinting, good nose, curly hair, black hair, thick beard, long face, daring warrior, magnanimous, a womanizer. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: tall and had bright eyes. He was nice, had long face and dark curly hair.

Diomedes Dares: stocky, brave, dignified, and austere. No one was fiercer in battle. He was loud at the war-cry, hot-tempered, impatient, and daring. Philostratus, Heroicus: steadfast and having eyes that are blue-gray and not black at all and a straight nose; his hair was woolly and dirty. […] modest upon rebuke, checked the eruption of his anger, and refused to insult the troops or to be disheartened. He himself considered it appropriate for an army to appear unwashed, and he commended sleeping in any opportune place; his provisions consisted of what was available, and he did not take pleasure in wine unless troubles came upon him. Diomedes and Sthenelos were the same age. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: [he had a] body that was worth of four young men. He was in good shape with a flat nose, narrow neck and blond hair.

Sthenelos Philostratus, Heroicus: a good size and towering, gray-eyed, with an aquiline nose, fairly long-haired, ruddy, and hot-blooded. […] lacked Diomedes' insight, his power of speech, and his patient endurance which belong to both soul and body. He gave way to anger, was contemptuous of the throng of battle, was savage upon being rebuked, and was prepared for a more delicate lifestyle than was needed for a military camp.

Nestor Dares: large, broad and fair. His nose was long and hooked. He was a wise adviser. Philostratus, Heroicus: (statue, but also the real man?) with a beard that is majestic and well-proportioned; his ears display what he went through at wrestling school, and his neck is restored to its strength. In truth, Nestor stands upright, not defeated by old age, with black eyes and without a drooping nose. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: big, had a nose looking downwards and a fiercely glaring. He had a long face, flame-coloured skin, blond hair and he was wise.

Antilochos The Iliad: Younger than the rest. Philostratus, Heroicus: Because Antilokhos was still young and not mature enough for war when they assembled at Aulis, his father did not agree to his wish to serve as a soldier. (he arrives in the fifth year.) For Achilles' physique appeared startling and divine, but that of Antilokhos seemed to all to be pleasant and gentle. […] Antilokhos resembled Nestor, but that he was swifter, trim in physique, and paid no attention to his hair. He gave me the following details about Antilokhos: He was most fond of horses and hunting with dogs. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: younger than the other Achaeans. Almost a boy, he was white, with a beautiful neck and a big nose. He was storm-footed, provoked fear with his eyes and a beard just sprouting. He was blond with beautiful hair and grey eyes.

Neoptolemus Dares: large, robust, and easily irritated. He lisped slightly, and was good-looking, with hooked nose, round eyes, and shaggy eyebrows. Philostratus, Heroicus: he was good-looking and resembled his father, but was inferior to him in the same way that beautiful people are inferior to their statues. Malalas, Chronographia: of good stature, good chest, thin, white, good nose, ruddy hair, wooly hair, light-eyed, big-eyed, blond eyebrows, blond beginnings of a beard, round-faced, precipitate, daring, agile, a fierce fighter. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: red hair, that's why many had called him Pyrrhus. He was of young age, white or somewhat grey, the colour of the milk; He had beautiful nose and chest, hair curly and was daring; He hadn't ever been hurt, embittered, reckless and of a too wild temper; Thin tiny hair was growing from his beard.

Palamedes Dares: tall and slender, wise, magnanimous, and charming. Philostratus, Herocius: So then in height he was the same as the greater Ajax; in beauty, Protesilaos says, he vied with Achilles, Antilokhos, Protesilaos himself, and with the Trojan Euphorbus. His soft beard was springing up and with the promise of curls; his hair was cut close to his skin; his eyebrows were noble, straight, and came together above the nose, which was perfect as a square and stately. The resolve of his eyes appeared unshaken and fierce in battles, but when he was at rest their gaze was full of comradely affection and affable; he also is said to have possessed the most marvelous eyes among mortals. And in truth, Protesilaos also says that when he was naked, Palamedes weighed halfway between an athlete and a lithe person, and that he had a toughness about his face that was much more pleasant than the golden locks of Euphorbus. Tzetzes, Antehomerica: He was tall, white, with his hair blond and filthy; he was slim and had a long face; he was a servant of wisdom and of Ares. His hair was blond and visibly dirty, because he didn't trouble himself with stupidities like his hair.

Podalirius Dares: sturdy, strong, haughty, and moody.

Nireus The Iliad: the most beautiful man to come beneath Ilion of all the Danaans, after blameless Achilles. Iphigenia in Aulis: repeats the 'most beautiful after Achilles' description.

Machaon Dares: large and brave, dependable, prudent, patient, and merciful.

Idomeneus The Iliad: Older than most of the rest, gray-haired. Malalas, Chronographia: above average height, dark-skinned, good eyes, well set, strong, good nose, thick beard, good head, curly hair, a berserker when fighting. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: quick, had a dark skin, of middle age. He had a short curly hair, wide chin and beautiful nose.

Meriones Dares: auburn-haired, of moderate height, with a well-proportioned body. He was robust, swift, unmerciful, and easily angered. Malalas, Chronographia: shortish, wide, white, good beard, big eyes, black hair, curly hair, flat face, bent nose, quick-moving, magnanimous, a warrior. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: short; he had wide shoulders and beautiful curly hair. He was white; he had crooked nose, nice chin, wide face.

Philoctetes Philostratus, Heroicus: his hair was gray because of age (he was about sixty years old), he was more vigorous than many of the young men, his gaze was most fearsome among mortals, his words most brief Malalas, Chronographia: a good height, well set, dark skinned, eyebrows meeting, brave, good eyes, good nose, black hair, hairy, sensible, accurate archer, magnanimous. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: tall, beautiful, of dark skin and with meeting eyebrows

Protesilaos Dares: fair-skinned, and dignified. He was swift, self-confident, even rash. Philostratus, Heroicus: He is about twenty years old at most. Because he sailed to Troy at such a young age, he has a full, splendid beard and smells sweeter than autumn myrtles. Cheerful eyebrows frame his eyes, which gives him a pleasant, friendly manner. When he exerts himself, he looks intense and determined. But if we meet him at ease, ah, how lovely and friendly his eyes appear! He has blond hair of moderate length. It hangs a little over his forehead rather than covering it. The shape of his nose is perfect, like the statue's. His voice is more sonorous than trumpets and comes from a small mouth. It is most enjoyable to meet him naked, since he is well built and nimble, just like the herms set up in race courses. His height is easily ten cubits, and it seems to me that he would have exceeded this had he not died in his early twenties. Tzetzes, Antehomerica: a lovely face and courage in his eyes; his hair was blond and long; his skin was smooth and dark; he was bold, graceful, with beautiful body and beard; he was vigorous, although much younger than Antilochus.

Calchas Malalas, Chronographia: short, white, all grey, including the beard, hairy, a very fine seer and omen-reader. Tzetzes, Posthomerica: small, white, thin and shaggy-haired. He had his hair grey in the front and white the rest of it.

[shih-coulda-had-it]

that dfohiko verse AU with toshinori and rikiya as test tube twins

//

WC: ~1000. Fun detail that I didn't actually incorporate in the snippet but I feel compelled to tell you anyway: All for One named Rikiya ("power" + "to be"; riki + ya), and Sorahiko named Toshinori ("genius" + "law"; toshi + nori). This absolutely positively does not give the twins issues about which parent loves them more (big lie).

//

(age seven)

“Who’s older?” Rikiya demanded, because he was canny enough to know that there was something to be held over his brother’s head if he could secure the status. 

“What does that matter?” their dad asked, levelly.

Toshinori had other concerns. Dinner, mostly, because their dad had cooked. He usually did when their father was out on business. “I told you they don’t know,” he told Rikiya, digging into his omurice with barely restrained glee. “We got dropped off by a big white bird, so they can’t tell.”

“That’s not what happened,” Rikiya said. “Garaki-hakase said--”

Their dad’s head tilted. “Said what?”

It was not like the doctor had told Rikiya to keep what he had said secret. And, anyway, Rikiya was pretty confident that everyone had to follow what his dad told them to. If not his dad, then definitely his father.

“He said that you and otou-sama ‘knew us from the beginning,’ and that he ‘was there to scream our lungs out for the first time,’” he recited. “But even Garaki-hakase wouldn’t tell me who was older! All he said was that you’d know.”

Their dad made a noise in the back of his throat, like a scoff. 

“I guess I could call you Riki-nii,” said Toshinori dubiously. “But Toshi-nii sounds just as good!”

Rikiya looked first at Toshinori’s guileless face, then at the spoon clutched tight in his hand. Before he could throw the spoon, their dad reached over and curled his fingers over Rikiya’s fist. Firm enough to prevent further movement, but not enough to hurt. It was warm.

“What does it matter?” their dad asked again.

“I wanna be older than Toshinori.”

“Because?”

He frowned down into his bowl. Saying what he really wanted out loud would alert Toshinori to what he was missing, and the last thing Rikiya could win at was a competition with his brother to get what he wanted. Toshinori always got what he asked for; Rikiya needed to take it.

“Because I want a younger brother,” he said.

“Can we have a younger brother?!” Toshinori interjected, and at his words, their dad twitched back. Rikiya’s hand felt cold without the restraint.

“No.”

Stated so plainly, flatly, forcefully--it was clear that their dad wasn’t even up to entertaining the idea of a third child, which Rikiya was fine with. But Toshinori didn’t get the message, because he only made an idle humming noise and then said, like it was a cunning loophole, “What about a younger sister?”

“No,” their dad repeated. “The two of you are enough. For us and for yourselves. You don’t need another sibling.”

“Okay,” said Rikiya, “but otou-sama talks about his younger brother all the time.”

“That’s his own deal.”

“Do we have to fight for it? Like, whoever wins is the older one?” It was surprising to hear the question not come out of his mouth, but his brother’s. That was a concern. Toshinori was getting the gist of what was going unspoken. Well, Rikiya thought blackly, it was only a matter of time.

“If I catch either of you starting a fight about who’s older,” their dad intoned, “I’ll end it. The two of you are twins. You’re equals.”

There wasn’t really anything to say back to that. Rikiya sulked into his dinner, and so did Toshinori, but it was definitely for different reasons.

(age eleven)

Toshinori knew Rikiya was glaring at the wall, picturing Toshinori’s neck, and he refused to quail. He got dared, so of course he would follow through. It was just… It was just a little daunting, to have the question put to him, to put to their dad, who wasn’t exactly the greatest at emoting soft feelings.

Still. Toshinori got dared, and so he would dare.

“Tou-san,” he says carefully. He is sprawled on his belly in bed, covers drawn up to his shoulders, sleeping cap wrestled over the ruffled mess of his hair. Half of Toshinori’s face is squished into his pillow, but even half is good enough to peer anxiously up to their dad’s face.

“Yeah?”

“You wanted the both of us, right?”

A strange expression crosses the usually grim countenance. Neither Toshinori nor Rikiya got the eyes of their parents. Toshinori sometimes wishes he looked a little more like Rikiya, who had the curve of their dad’s nose. Their father liked to tease Rikiya by tracing its bend and delighting in its prominent trait, and Rikiya pretended to hate the attention, but Rikiya once told Toshinori that it was definitely preferable to, you know, not having any defined features of their parents.

Probably the worst thing Rikiya’s ever called Toshinori was ‘donor-child’, but considering Toshinori came out of that fight on top, teeth bared and knuckles bruised, Toshinori’s inclined to leave the incident behind them. His father had been weirdly pleased, hauling him off his brother.

“You’re my child,” his father had said, before picking up Rikiya too. “And you are too, Riki. The things we pass on aren’t purely about appearances or meta abilities.”

Backlit by the hallway light, dressed down in casual clothes--their dad wasn’t a househusband the way their father teased him, but Toshinori noticed him wearing the trappings of normalcy for once, and some part of him had thought vulnerability. 

“... Yeah,” their dad says, gruffly. “The both of you.”

Toshinori quails first. He lets his eyes slide away, burning in shame, and clears his throat to say a quiet goodnight. Their dad inclines his head, the dusty gray of his hair catching yellow glares, and then he leaves, closing the door shut behind him. They wait in the dark for a long, long minute.

And, quietly, Rikiya says, “He hesitated.”

“He still said it,” says Toshinori, staring at that closed door. Something had gone through their dad’s face, and Rikiya had definitely had his back to them, so it’s up to Toshinori to decipher it. He doesn’t think it was a bad expression. Their dad loves quietly, that’s all. Toshinori shouldn’t have pushed the matter so clumsily into the open.

“He had to. He probably thinks we’ll run to otou-sama and get him in trouble.”

“Stop talking about the worst case scenario like it’s gonna happen,” Toshinori mutters, and he digs his nails into the pillow.

“It’s because you won’t that I have to,” Rikiya sniffs, and there’s a creak of the bedsprings. He’s curling tighter in his blankets, Toshinori would bet anything, because he’s doing the same thing.

[patrickztump]

Found a music shuffle asks in my likes from a couple of days ago I forgot to send an ask for! How about these for it:

🎵 🔍 💡🥰

thank you for the 'mojis!!

🎶 - make a 5 song playlist with this song going off the vibes of empowerment, hope, and overall positivity (even though the title says otherwise):

i don't wanna be loved – matchbox twenty

hall of fame (feat. will.i.am) – the script

fight song – rachel platten

spotlight (new regrets) – patrick stump

stand by me – weezer*

*no one judge me

🔍- how did you find the song? all the feels – fitz & the tantrums

a norwegian cruise commercial brought me this song lol

💡 - do you associate the song with something? if yes, what? dancing in the dark – imagine dragons

this album came out when i was binging twin peaks, and this song specifically reminds me of the red room or whatever it was called in the show. and i suppose it's in part because i found that part to be odd, and the song is also, pretty odd.

🥰 - what’s your favorite part of this song? (instrumental bit, lyric, etc) if i die young (feat. fall out boy) – the band perry (cmt crossroads)

i kind of lose my mind at random times when hearing this song, because the way patrick sings the first verse specifically is so good. he just kind of croons his way through it - a little unnecessarily - and this song about, "what if my life is cut short? what if i never experience love? what if my mother has to bury her child?" opens up incredibly, dare i say, sexy for about 15 seconds. then of course it gives way to tearing you apart, should you be in the right (wrong?) mindset.

it is a missed opportunity by both bands to Not officially record that song together because they did such an phenomenal job, absolutely blew it out of the water. (anyways there's that hill i'm dying on)

[tarnishedxknight]

Wounds That Refuse To Heal || Open to mutuals

{ This starter is for Ashe and Noah's MCU verse! This can play out however you like, depending on which muse you would like to interact. If you want your muse to show up with Basch, that can also be a thing. Run with it however you like! =) }

"Is that all you have to say for yourself?! That it is in the past and therefore forgotten?! It is not so for me!" Ashelia yelled, loudly enough for anyone in a nearby hallway or room to hear her and not caring a whit. Feeling anger surging through her, Ashe had her arms stiff and straight at her sides, her fists clenched tightly.

A chance encounter in the hallway had been the flashpoint Ashelia had been trying to avoid with Noah. For Basch's sake, she had been trying her best to stay away from his brother, but the mere sight of him had rage boiling deep in her blood, and she had not been able to keep silent any longer. This man murdered her father, framed her dearest friend, ruined her life, and assisted in the fall of her kingdom. She was going to give him a piece of her mind.

Noah... had no desire to deal with this womanchild. A pampered and entitled princess, she was, who still had much growing up to do. Perhaps legally she was of age, but emotionally, at least in his opinion, she was still quite immature. "Choose for yourself whether or not it is forgotten, but nevertheless it remains inconsequential, like all else lost to the past."

"Inconsequential?!" Ashelia exploded again. "My father was not inconsequential at all! He was wise and kind... and you slaughtered him in his bed!"

"I did not," Noah said firmly, actually a bit riled by that statement. "I killed him while he stood before me, sword in hand, though it affected the outcome not at all." He made sure of that. The only people he killed while they were vulnerable and defenseless in their beds were people he hated. People... like Amoretta Solidor. People who deserved that sort of death. Despite needing to kill King Raminas for tactical and political reasons, he had borne the man no ill will. How could he? He hadn't known him personally at all. It had all been strictly business. That part of it, anyway. The rest... was either by Vayne's order or to defame his brother.

"How dare you stand there and speak of my father as if he were nothing?!" Ashelia said, shaking with anger. "Would you speak of your own father so?!"

"No. I would speak far worse of him," Noah said with disgust.

"How on earth are you and Basch identical twins? You are nothing alike," Ashelia said bitterly, her eyes narrowing.

"And that pleases me," Noah said dryly. "Dalmasca and your father are gone, child. Find a way to come to terms with that."

"I am no child! And if Dalmasca is gone, then so too is your precious Archadian Empire," she insisted.

"Disappointed, are you?" Noah asked.

"What?" she asked, caught off guard.

"Disappointed? That you were not the one to destroy the Empire? Would you have done it, Daughter of Dalmasca? Would you have used the nethicite to obliterate the Empire?" Noah asked, his expression unreadable.

Ashelia blinked, her anger cooling only inasmuch as she was now bewildered as to why he was asking. "The Empire is gone, as you say. It matters not."

"Why care you more for whether or not something is still in existence than you do for what its importance was? Take from things and from people their meaning, their significance, rather than their presence. It will serve you far better," Noah explained calmly.

"Why would I ever take advice from the likes of you?" Ashe spat back.

"Because I am trying to teach you something, you ignorant welp," Noah said. "With a queen as arrogant and ignorant as yourself, Dalmasca would have been doomed regardless of the war's outcome."

Ashelia couldn't help herself. She slapped Noah across the face. Hard.

It took a lot to anger Noah in public, and before someone he did not wish to lose control in front of. But Ashelia had done exactly that. Pressing her, Noah grabbed her arms and forced her back against a wall with a growl, her wrists pinned to it by his firm hands. He'd done so only to shake her out of her conceited ramblings and to force her to listen seriously to him, but...

Suddenly Ashelia was taken back to the halls of the Royal Palace of Rabanastre, to the night Vossler had done the same to her, with decidedly worse intentions. As she was forced back, Ashe gasped in true fear. A vulnerable little whimper followed as she was pinned and tears filled her widened, stone gray eyes as they stared at Noah's own soldering amber ones.

Instantly, Noah's fire was doused. He blinked in confusion. What... is this? The surprise, the fear, the whimper, the tears... This was not merely simple fear of how far he would go with his anger, this was... Disengage. Disengage, now! Noah released Ashe's wrists and stepped back from her. His brow furrowed and his gaze fell, and to some extent, he almost looked as uncomfortable and caught off guard as Ashe did. Her reaction disturbed him. It made him wonder... No, best not to think further on it. Just leave. He turned, and did just that, without further word. As he did so, he saw someone else approaching, but he tried to leave without being forced to explain himself.

Ashe remained there, against the wall, hands up with their backs pressed to the wall, for a few more seconds before she slowly lowered her arms. Sliding down to the floor, she wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling them to her chest. Looking after where Noah had gone, she saw someone else coming, but only pulled her knees even closer as she hugged them, tears trickling down her cheeks.

[yanban-san]

How long the Eldritch twin brothers been with Darling in that world? A year? Less than a year? I know they both find their matching soulmate all in all, but I like how they are progressing bit by bit to learn so much about their Darling and the culture of humanity and the Pokemon verse.

I imagine it takes them about two years to go from first being summoned to finally dating darling. Primary reason is very sad angst; which fuels their desire to learn about humans and pokemon more so as to approach their darling successfully, and also traumatized them against just trying to approach their darling. Like ever. Normally.

However, angsty bit aside (I put it under the cut underneath, in case you'd like to read it- be warned tho it is angsty)

They do like learning about the world their darling lives in- The longer they stay in their human forms, among humans, the more they come to like various aspects of human life.

They start training pokemon, as battles are used between trainers to understand one another-

They learn to enjoy food and all the different tastes it can have- That "physical matter" humans have to consume for sustenance- isn't half bad actually.

Human music is delightful- Their kind have music, though it's very different from human music- They honestly like it.

They like human art and a lot of human crafts- It's pretty and beautiful and artisans have evidently put a lot of work and love into their crafts. Emmet and Ingo's kind typically measure the value of something by the effort and love and passion poured into it, so although they could make these things in an instant- the fact humans spend hours drawing or years creating grand structures is fascinating to them and they appreciate a lot of the engineering marvels around Unova. ...Although Emmet does like to criticize them a lot and says he could make better in an instant. He's just too lazy.

Their kind don't have very many bonds- Humans have lots of bonds. So they are actually genuinely happy when Elesa says she wants to be their friend.

They travel Unova with their pokemon, like trainers- They can always warp back to their darling, watching over them, or split their consciousness so they're always watching over them while one half is off doing something else- Or they can time travel to before darling summoned them and go on their adventure. It helps them learn how to act human, though they lose all semblance of their practice where darling is involved. The brainrot is real.

Angst below, be warned: (Demon summoning gone wrong, mentions of reader getting injured badly)

I mentioned it in the first headcanon/drabble post, but basically the twins were incredibly psyched to finally meet their darling soulmate- They'd never interacted with humans before, and they had spent so long dreaming about their meeting with their soulmate they'd become incredibly enamored with them and their ideas about them- They so very badly want to meet them! To speak with them, to introduce themselves, to gaze upon them and adore them- Oh, how thrilled you’ll be to meet your soulmates! Of course, they’ll have to explain everything to you- But it will all work out! You’ll love them!

They do have some vague understandings that humans, being physical beings, can't do everything eldritch beings can, but- humans also have immortal souls, and a lot can be changed about them to make them able to withstand the void. You’ll be fine with them by your side, protecting you and cherishing you forever!

But the problem occurs when their darling summons them. Perhaps it was on a dare with friends, perhaps darling was interested in the occult, but somehow, the rumors of their summoning ritual reach darling- And darling tries it- And of course, it works.

And darling nearly dies.

The intensity of the light Emmet gives off burns away everything, and Darling feels like they're on fire- The void of Ingo's existence is eating away at them- darling's in agony, probably screaming, and Emmet's horrified, Ingo's horrified, both of them are beyond horrified- Desperately trying to remedy what they caused- And they manage to save darling, heal them of their injuries, but they take their darling's memories away- Not wanting their soulmate to suffer from such trauma-

And run away. Both of them are so scared- and upset about this. They never ever ever wanted to hurt you- And their existences did so? Their mere presence nearly tore you apart.

This is why human soulmates are a defect for their kind.

They want to be close to their darling- To embrace them-

But they cannot. But perhaps the soulbind will make it so darling can tolerate their presence...?

And perhaps, if they learn to be human, or at least more human- Or at the very least, if they can make a mimicry of humanity for themselves-

They can have their darling.

No, They will have their darling. They'll get your love. Eventually. They'll figure out how to be close to you, even if it takes them a hundred thousand years.

They've waited longer than that to meet you, after all.

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

Here’s some more of that fluffy ‘twins as Reshiram and Zekrom’ piece. I liked this concept, but I’m not sure if I’m a big fan of how it really turned out.

As before, it’s very much an incomplete piece.

---

Iris frowned-- thoughtful, but in a way that suggested she’d come to an uncomfortable realization. “Hilda caught Reshiram, didn’t she?”

Only half listening-- trusting his brother to rein his attention in when need be-- Emmet automatically said, “Yep,” and so didn’t [notice] the look that passed between Drayden and Elesa. Slowly, the latter turned her attention to the elder twin; none of this escaped his notice, but, absent context, he had no idea what to make of it. He assumed his brother had simply committed a minor faux pas-- likely the visibly waning attention.

“Hey Ingo, gut feeling, do you think the weird Plasma kid captured Zekrom?”

“I would assume so.” He said blankly; he wasn’t entirely sure why, but saying things he didn’t understand was hardly a new experience. What was one more instance to toss onto the pile?

She hummed a contemplative affirmative and went on to ask, “You don’t have any idea who I’m talking about, do you?”

“...I’m afraid not.” Ingo admitted, flustered.

[…]

“Uh, anyway, I’m just worried that it could be… you know… still possible?”

“We’re human.” Emmet said flatly, though the angle of his smile suggested there was anxiety lurking somewhere beneath.

“Usually.” [Elesa this time] “But sometimes you’re a big, fluffy dragon, and it’s not always by choice.”

[I don’t want to bother w/ this right now, but we do establish that, in human form it’s fine; in dragon form, not so much. Idk how much this would work, but I kind of like the idea that, even though it was a test and there was absolutely no danger, whichever brother wasn’t the test subject automatically lashes out (just, like, vocally) as it’s proven that, yes, this could be a problem. Since Ingo’s getting a moment in a bit, it might be good to give Emmet this one.]

---

He perked up.

“Do tumblestones still exist? They must, right? It’s just stone, it can’t exactly go extinct...”

Without bothering to peel himself away from his twin’s side, Emmet gave a half-hearted shrug and, after a moment to unfasten it, handed his Xtransceiver over. “Have fun looking for rocks.”

[…]

Looking up from the Xtransceiver, Ingo frowned [not excitedly, but ???], “If we can get the appropriate materials, I can craft some pokeballs. That would circumvent the problems you’ve mentioned, wouldn’t it?”

“You can do what, now?” Elesa asked at the same time that Emmet, peering around his brother’s shoulder, said, “Apricorns?”

Without acknowledging the latter question, Ingo passed the device back to its owner, “It’s not a [craft] I’m particularly well versed in, but we could likely do worse.”

---

Emmet passed one of the pokeballs from hand to hand, considering it. The quality was better than the one that carried Gliscor, likely marking that as an earlier foray into the craft, but still a far cry from the uniform construction of modern pokeballs. It was heavier, for one thing, likely due to the fact that it was partially made of stone and, while cool to the touch, did eventually warm at the points of contact with his palm. He could tell where a tool had dug too deep into the material, only to be caught and the flaw smoothed out, creating a small but noticeable groove along the capsule’s side.

They worked like modern pokeballs, at least-- save for the features they were purposefully trying to circumnavigate-- and something in him distantly wondered if they felt the same. Emmet pointedly ignored the rogue thought and set the practice ball down. He cast an eye over the dark semicircles that had been carved from the black apricorns, but didn’t dare touch them. As much as he understood having backup materials, it seemed a bit excessive; Ingo clearly understood the process behind the craft, so why all the fuss? Did he not trust the quality of modern apricorns? Was there a difference in the density or the technique involved in carving them? It was an interesting process-- and, while not a hobby Emmet particularly wanted to pursue, shone a unique light on the manufacture of the modern day product.

[…]

“If you want it, this is for you,” He said, and placed the capsule securely in Emmet’s palm.

Emmet almost turned it over, conditioned to assume the white half of a pokeball was the bottom, but the distribution of weight suggested that wasn’t the case. These handmade pokeballs put the stone at the top, and, thinking back on it, it was plainly obvious which material was which: black apricorn, white tumblestone. He was holding it right side up already.

He liked it, he decided after the surprise wore off. He liked it a lot-- a unique design, a combination no one else could lay claim to.

Excepting, of course…

“Did you make one for yourself?”

“That’s yours.” Ingo said easily, [idk action tag?] “I made it for you, so it’s your call whether you want to match or not. I can put another one together, or use one of the pokeballs I already made.”

What kind of statement was that? Of course Emmet wanted to match. It would throw everything off to put the monochrome pokeball next to the red and tan.

[he says as much for now, but before the day is out, decides on something else.]

That explained the four extra tops and bottoms; Ingo had been giving himself room to learn from the last, and, ultimately able to pick from the best of the lot.

Emmet paused and turned back around, picking the black and white capsule up. As he’d done with the prototype, he [turned it over in his hands], considering it. Still nothing like a regulation pokeball, but orders better than the one he remembered inspecting-- no odd grooves or spots where the apricorn hadn’t sanded down properly. It was lighter, too; more of the material had been carved away to make for a sleeker product.

He hadn’t noticed at first-- hadn’t appreciated it at first-- but a lot of work had gone into making it the best it could be. Emmet set it down again, further back than before so no curious limbs could snag it and knock it off, and crept into the living room.

His twin was on the far end of the couch-- Excadrill draped over his lap and soaking up every bit of absent-minded attention she could get-- skimming an outdated report on Galarian battle facilities. Newer [editions] were stacked on the arm next to him, suggesting he was trying to make up for lost time. Emmet rounded behind him and leaned against the backrest, wordlessly announcing his presence.

“Show me how to make a pokeball.” He said without preamble.

“You would hate it.” Ingo said just as immediately, failing to look away from his reading material.

“Doesn’t matter.” / “You spent a great deal of time and effort crafting something you knew I would like. I can at least attempt to do the same.”

Finally, his twin looked up, meeting his eyes, “It’s a nice sentiment, but I didn’t make it expecting anything from you. There are enough pieces for four perfectly good pokeballs, and I’m happy to use one of those-- really, it would be a waste not to put any of them to use.”

“It just feels unfair. Imbalanced. I don’t like it.”

Ingo considered him for a moment and then, with a rueful pat, uprooted Excadrill to the next cushion over. He pivoted to sit on his knees, an elbow braced against the backrest so they could look each other head-on, “Think of it this way, then: I happened to have a skill that could be immediately put to use. I didn’t have to spend any time learning how to conduct it, only to acquire the materials and shape them-- and I was happy to do so. That’s what I want that pokeball to embody. If you have to be tied to something, it should represent that truth: that it was made because I love you.”

Emmet shot him a look and made to interrupt-- because if that was meant to dissuade him, it was an incredibly counterintuitive argument-- but Ingo pointedly charged full steam ahead.

“And I understand that you want to show the same, but please trust me, you would not enjoy learning this craft. Carving an apricorn would wreak sensory havoc, and I don’t want that for you; knowing that you’d put yourself in an uncomfortable position to make this hypothetical pokeball would really, truly bother me.”

There was a long silence as Emmet considered that, and, eventually, said, “At least guide me through carving a tumblestone. We can compromise and use one of your apricorn halves.”

[blokked]

I am once again crossing my fixations to fill the void in my brain anyways

The Obey Me! Demon Brothers if they were in Genshin Impact

Bear with me my brain won’t shut up

Lucifer

Electro user. The electro archon is the god of eternity, and a common theme with the current electro characters is that they’ve either lost or given up something to be where they are now. Lucifer lost his status as the “Pride of the Celestial Realm”, and he is burdened for eternity with the death of his sister.

His weapon of choice? I genuinely cannot see this man doing any sort of fighting so he’s a catalyst user. He doesn’t seem like the type to get his hands dirty or handle anything, and he’s better at quick and clean endings.

He got his vision when he tore out his wings after falling from grace, moments before Satan was born. The agony he felt mixed with the anger and despair churned the skies until it was pitch black, and the air became heavy. His body was engulfed with purple streaks of energy, and as the final wing was torn the surrounding area was blown away. This produced Satan.

Mammon

Do you think I’d give this man anything other than pyro? A common theme with every pyro character is that they’re upbeat and optimistic, as well as cunning and persistent. Mammon is a lively person, and is (not so) sneaky and persistent when it comes to money-making schemes.

His weapon of choice is a polearm. A bow was my first thought because of the common theme of thievery, but he’s more hands-on. Plus, I can see him twirling it around and making a mess of things.

He got his vision in the early years of being in the Devildom, when he was away from his brothers in the town. After the Celestial War, each of the brothers spent time to themselves and distanced in an attempt to regain themselves. Feeling the need, as the second-born, to take care of his brothers in Lucifer’s place because he was busy, he swore to himself that he’d be there for them till the very end. The pressure of maintaining his upbeat facade caused him to burst and engulf himself in flames. He only uses his vision for emergencies; when his brothers are in danger.

Leviathan

Yes, I know he’s a sea serpent. Will I assign him hydro? No. Leviathan is a geo user. The god of contracts recognizes those who are diligent and hardworking, people who are almost effortless at what they do. Noelle is an incredible maid, Ningguang is the head of the Qixing, and Albedo is the chief alchemist of Mondstat.

His weapon of choice is a bow. He’s more tactical, and although I don’t doubt he knows swordsmanship he prefers to complete his tasks from afar.

After falling from grace, he felt useless. He already felt somewhat obsolete in the Celestial realm, but now that he was banished from his home he felt pathetic, like he had no purpose whatsoever. He was a diligent and dutiful admiral, regardless of not having a chance to “prove his abilities.” In a fit of despair, he isolated himself in his room, shutting the door a bit too tight. Stalactites and stalagmites coated the ceiling and floor, and if he hadn’t noticed the crackling of the walls it would have swallowed him whole.

Satan

Although he was born from his brother’s vision and wrath, the gods didn’t recognize him right away. In fact, one glance at him now and you still couldn’t tell that he was equipped with an anemo vision. The archon of freedom recognizes those who don’t necessarily need to be liberated, but rather those who seek a path that requires a push, or a gust of wind. There aren’t many characters to go off of (much like geo).

His weapon of choice is the classic sword. Much like Xingqiu he’s well-versed in swordsmanship and the chivalric code. He’s a master at swift and clean endings, but put up a fight and he may have to be more forceful.

His vision came in what should have been a much calmer moment. Already equipped with the wrath of a thousand suns, he was tired of being compared to his eldest brother, and wanted to be liberated. He sought a path out of the shadow his brother casted. Escaping in the vast sea of worn pages and shelves, the pages began to ruffle as he seethed with wrath and resentment, soon swirling documents and pages in the air.

Asmodeus

Asmo is a cryo user. Although it isn’t confirmed, many have speculated that the cryo archon is the god of love. A common theme with cryo characters is remaining stagnant/indifferent, as well as wishing to “freeze” an aspect in their life.

His weapon of choice is a polearm. He’s swift and graceful and just loves the twirl and look of it. He also thought Mammon looked hot using one and felt compelled to imitate him��

Asmo was praised and admired all throughout the Celestial Realm. In the Devildom, he’s feared and respected. He longs to receive appraisal like he did so long ago, and wishes to turn back time to the life they used to have in the Celestial Realm. Alone in his room he sat at his vanity, the humid air soon turned frigid as the mirror glossed over with mist, Asmo shuddering as tears fell from his face. He realized his fingertips froze to his desk and dispelled the cold front.

Beelzebub

Beel is also a cryo user. Mentioned in Asmo’s segment, cryo users are stagnant and indifferent, wishing to freeze a certain aspect of their lives.

His weapon is obviously a claymore. He doesn’t fight too often like Mammon, but when needed he will shatter whoever dares threaten him and his brothers.

His vision came first out of all of his brothers. When they fell from grace, he was the first to realize what had happened. He let Lilith fall, having to resign himself from his once “indifferent” disposition and choose between his twin and his sister. A storm brewed around him, and at his breaking point he burst and froze everything in a 10-mile radius. He shuddered and cried, wishing he could freeze himself and never have to make a single decision ever again.

Belphegor

Belphie is a hydro user. The hydro archon is the god of justice, and a common theme with hydro users is similar to electro users, as they detach themselves from an aspect of their reality in order to seek another. Xingqiu escapes through fairytales and old stories, Childe seeks the approval of the Tsaritsa, and detaches himself from his mortal self.

His weapon of choice? In my opinion I can’t see him wielding any of these weapons without a catch, so he uses a sword-whip. The element of surprise is his key point, but he’s also rash and a physical fighter. Also I know he just slams his enemies using the whip aspect of his sword.

His vision came after Beel’s. He felt responsible for Lilith’s death, seeing as he was the other option. He resented how Lucifer seemed to not care at all, and how the rest of his brothers distanced themselves instead of saying a word about her. He grieved alongside Beel, and swore that he’d bring justice and honor Lilith’s death. He swore that he’d find a way, if not to bring her back, then to fill the gap between him and his brothers. His vision came when his tears seemed to be larger than usual, and how they swirled around him and Beel. To add on, one of his passive talents is healing water.

It’s almost midnight but my brain would not quiet itself so you get to witness my exhaustion firsthand

[yan-twst]

Hiii!!~~ Could you please do a HC about the yandere dorm leaders reacting when they rejected by S/O, because S/O already likes someone else and also intends to confess their feelings to their love interest, please?

warnings: general yandere themes, manipulation, death / violence mentions

riddle rosehearts

he goes red in shame and anger when he’s turned down- it takes all his restraint to at least act  properly and not immediately blow his lid

how- how can this be?! his darling, the one he’s been pining for this whole time- suddenly it turns out they have a crush on just, some random heartslabyul student?!

he knows his darling is going to confess- but first he’ll try his best to discourage them. the poor soul who happens to be his darling’s crush will have it rough

riddle will pile on near impossible tasks to said student, publicly humiliating him for his failures and going off with his head as the whole dorm watches; however, instead of making his darling dislike their crush, he just makes them feel pity for the poor soul, and also dislike riddle even more...

however, he won’t give up. he has no shame in pressuring the student his darling likes in such a tyrannical way they probably break down and drop out- if not... well, it might be off with their head in the actual sense of the word. nobody can have his darling, only him; and now that the pesky crush is out of his way, he’ll declare his love again

... and if they say no once again? well, then he’ll be forced to take the route of force to make them love him... so they better make the correct choice when he asks them to love him!

leona kingscholar

he’ll act unbothered and aloof when he’s rejected, despite being incredibly mad. and then- then his darling says something like “it’s not you, it’s just, there’s someone else i like!” and that makes his blood boil.

so they found someone better, hm? better than the useless, lazy second born prince, huh? well, he doesn’t care- he’s already decided he’ll have his darling, and if they don’t love him that’s their problem to deal with

but first... he’ll get rid of whoever it is that ruined his initial confession by taking away his darling’s heart

he isn’t one for subtleties or behind the scenes work; he’s a lion, a predator, and he has pride on his strength. so a whatever, no-name savanaclaw student thinks they can just take away his darling’s heart...? hah.

he kills them. plain and simple, no pomp and circumstance- they were in the way, so leona got rid of them. easy. it wasn’t even hard; he didn’t even use his unique magic.

when news break out of a mangled, bloody corpse being found, he’s right by his darling’s side as their eyes widen and tears form at the news. aw, did their little crush die? how tragic... 

he won’t say he did it, but the look and smile he gives his darling is more than enough of a confirmation and a threat- so, he’ll ask them again... now will they become his lover, or would they preffer to make him angry again?

azul ashengrotto

from the outside, it looks like he takes the rejection like a champ. a surprised “oh!”, and apology for wasting his darling’s time. when they mention they have a crush on another octavinelle student, he’ll even wish them luck on their confession!

... but that’s just on the outside. inside, he’s practically having a meltdown. how?! is he not good enough?! what the hell does that random octavinelle wimp have he doesn’t?!

he already ruins people’s lives for a living; it’s nothing to him to do so again. he easily fools the student who his darling likes into a contract; something easy, something dumb... the answers for trein’s upcoming quiz, and in exchange, they swear they won’t accept any love confession this month. the student accepts readily, as azul reminds them: break the contract and they’ll be working for him!

so of course, when his darling confesses... the panicked student turns them down. of course, he can’t say why- the clause in the contract forbids him, so he has to leave azul’s darling heartbroken and confused... and that’s when azul swoops in

oh, no! what a cruel bastard, to break their heart like that! he’ll come in and act as a comforting friend, a shoulder to cry on... meanwhile, the leech twins silently get rid of the student; after all, he’s no longer needed!

letting azul close is the first fatal mistake; now that he’s gotten his darling close, he’s not letting go... even if they want him to, they’ve sealed their fate

kalim al-asim

he’d be quite heartbroken when his darling rejects him, telling him that they’ve actually liked another scarabia student for a long time, and were planning on confessing... however, he’ll take it with a smile! it’s ok!

but... well, it really isn’t. he doesn’t want to be a spoiled little heir, but...! he’s so not used to not getting what he wants! he’ll feel terrible about doing it, but he’ll try to make the confession fail

the easiest way? well... he feels super scummy and bad, but he approaches the scarabia student and explains the situation; kalim just really likes this person, but they like them- so... and in the end, it’s a simple deal; some gold coins and jewelry, and the student is more than happy to turn kalim’s darling down

even though he feels quite bad about what he did, he tries to justify it. well, if the student took such a shallow brive, then they’re surely a materialistic and bad person...! his darling deserves better, right?

like promised, the student doesn’t even show up to the scheduled time when kalim’s darling was going to confess. kalim watches froma  distance as his darling waits and waits, eventually giving up and running to their room

he won’t act too fast. he already feels terrible about what he did, he can’t just try to force his darling to love him... right? he’ll be content to just be able to comfort them and be close to them at first, but... ah, it’s no good! he wants more! he’ll confess again and again, and eventually his darling will say yes... or he’ll have to do yet another thing he won’t like

vil schoenheit

he’s shaken to his core. how- what?! does his darling even know who they’re turning down?! clearly, his darling can sense his confusion and shock. they tell him that yes! he’s very beautiful- probably the most beautiful, but... their heart was already taken by another pomefiore student...

vil cannot believe this. he’s very much a mother hen over the pomefiore students, but to think his care and guidance would lead to another person being the one to take his darling’s heart...! he seethes thinking that the skincare tips he’d given to that student were now contributing to the skin of the person who was stealing away his beloved.

at first he just wants to ruin the other student’s appearance to maybe make his darling not want to confess- vil watches as the pomefiore student panics over his skincare routine suddenly not working, their shampoo not making their hair as nice as before... but deep down, he knows it’s not enough. his darling isn’t the sort of person to fall in love just for looks: if they were, then, they’d love him!

so he feigns worry when the student suddenly falls terribly ill. oh, no, boo hoo. everyone doubts the student will even make it, and it makes vil’s blood boil when he knows his darling is trying to cheer the student up until the day their crush tragically dies

does he feel bad? not much. if that student was truly a good pomefiore member, he should be well versed in poisons; if the idiot couldn’t realize he wasn’t ill, but rather poisoned, then he wasn’t worth vil’s worry

and now, he can monopolize his darling; they’re so heartbroken and busy grieving, they can’t even tell vil is isolating them slowly, keeping them under his control... and soon, he’ll tell them he loves them again, but it won’t be a confession: it’s a statement, and his darling better reply they love him too, unless they want him to break out the love potions

idia shroud

ugh- god! he worked all his courage to confess, and then- he gets turned down...? he wants to die, right now, on the spot. even while his darling panickedly tries to explain that they just happen to like another person from ignihyde, idia is too depressed to even care

another ignihyde student... ugh, of course. of course he can’t even have love! this sucks- he can’t sleep, he can’t concentrate on games... his darling and their rejection keep echoing in his head

despite him being one of the least athletic students, and usually stepping out of danger’s way, love has an amazing way to push people to do things they usually wouldn’t. for example, he’d never even dare to think of killing anyone, leave alone one of his dormmates, but... as he drags the corpse towards the forest, adrenaline on peak, that’s just what he’d done

god, videogames make this look so much easier. he feels queasy and disgusted, the blood is warm but running cold, the corpse is so heavy and rigor mortis is setting in- he feels like giving up, but... he has to return. he has to return to his darling; surely, after this grueling task, he’s earned their love, right?

when his darling worriedly tells him that an ignihyde student has gone missing, he tries to comfort them. well- ignihyde folk are secluded, odd people- perhaps he returned home without telling anyone...? the fact that he’s the dorm leader will calm his darling down; after all, why would he lie about this?

though he’d try to be patient, he doesn’t have much time before he snaps. he wouldn’t even confess again. he’s already sure his darling won’t love him, so... just kidnapping them is fine for him- maybe he could buy some love potions...?

malleus draconia

ah... he seems to have miscalculated. he’d spent so much time with his darling he was sure they’d share his feelings, but he was wrong, it seems... well, he’ll thank them for at least thinking of him as a friend- even though he’s very clearly mortified at the rejection

so they like another man...? someone from diasomnia? despite being dorm leader, malleus doesn’t know the diasomnia students too well; after all, he’s never invited to the sorting ceremony, and students keep their distance...

so he gets lilia to help him identify the student. the ancient fae is quite intrigued; oh, the infamous love triangle! lilia offhandedly mentions that in cases like these on videogames and novels, it always ends with someone eliminating the person who their darling loves; and that idea sticks with malleus

what good is it to be so powerful, if he cannot use his powers for what he wants...? he already knows his love is bordering on obsession- so he’ll allow himself to be as immoral as he wants. if he’s seen as a scary monster, then, well, nobody should be too surprised when he does commit an atrocity, right?

with the help of sebek, lilia, and silver, dissapearing a body and cleaning blood is not a hard job; it’s almost like nothing happened at all. he simply tells crowley the student went out one night and didn’t return- no evidence says malleus had anything to do with it

he won’t tell his darling what he did- not at first. however... if they keep rejecting him, he’ll finally say it: let go of the hope of their crush ever returning. he’s gone- dead. he made sure of it. and truly, knowing malleus hold such a dark side- who would be so stupid as to reject him again, really?

[cutieodonoghue]

the edge of hope (2/9)

summary: canon divergent au; when Din left Sorgan to protect the Child, he left the woman he’d fallen in love with, not knowing he’d also left behind something else. Or, Omera and Winta join Mando and Grogu on their season 2 adventures. Mandomera!

Catch up here: 1

Second chapter below the cut or on AO3!

The Marshal

Peli Motto was a small woman, whose brown curls were wild and free atop her head. Her hands were on her hips the instant the ramp to the Razor Crest extended downwards.

Her worker droids seemed eager to get to work on the ship, chirping and chattering as the steam from the engines exhausted, three of them with tools in hand at Peli’s side. She shooed them away, but he shrugged, saying, “May as well let them have at it.”

In a sling he’d constructed of fabric, he held the Child at his side, and behind him, both Omera and Winta followed onto the flat white sand of the hangar bay. 

The trip had been seamless, and he’d actually found that he enjoyed getting to spend the idle time listening to Winta tell stories about life on Sorgan. Omera had been quiet, but her smile was kind when he mentioned that the Child had begun trying to form words. Nothing substantial yet, but Din was sure he’d get there eventually.

“I guess a lot has changed since you were last in Mos…” Peli paused, surprise in her features at the sight of the Child slung off to his side. He adjusted it so that the Child could see her more clearly, slowing to a stop before the woman. “Oh, thank the Force! This little thing has had me worried sick.”

Peli reached in, grabbing the Child without permission. He squeaked, little noises that Din had learned indicated that he was curious.

“Looks like it remembers me. How much do you want for it?” She paused, eyes finding Omera standing at his side. She softened slightly. “Guess your crew’s grown since the last time you were here, too.”

Din glanced over at Omera and Winta. In a way, it felt like he was introducing them to an old friend, even if he and Peli weren't quite friends- or were they? 

Maybe they could find themselves on Nevarro and meet up with Karga and Dune at some point. Omera would probably like to see Cara again.

He nodded at Peli. “We’re here on business. Need your help.”

"Hold on. Aren't you gonna introduce me to your new crew members?"

Omera stepped forward, smiling kindly. "I'm Omera. This is my daughter, Winta."

Peli grinned. "Peli. It's good to meet you. Anyone who travels with Mando here is a friend in my book." Lifting an eyebrow at him, she snarked, "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Din turned his attention onto the Child still held snug in Peli's arms.

“I’ve been quested to bring this one back to its kind. Can you help?”

“Oh, wow.” She scoffed and gave her head a minute shake. “I’ve never seen any like it. And trust me, I’ve seen all shapes and sizes in this town.”

 “If I can locate another of my kind, I can chart a path through the network of coverts.”

Peli looked him up and down. “You’ve been the only Mando here for years from what I can tell.”

“Where is Mos Pelgo?” Omera spoke up. “We’ve heard that there is one there.”

“Oh. Boy, I haven’t heard that name in a while.” Peli frowned. “It was wiped out by bandits. Once the Empire fell, it was a free-for-all. I didn’t dare leave the city walls. Still don’t.”

“Can you tell us where it used to be?” Din asked.

“R-five!” Peli called out. “Bring the map of Tatooine!”

The droid did as was requested, with only a mild admonishing by Peli. With the holo map displayed, the hangar manager gestured to the markings.

“This is a map of Tatooine before the war. You got Mos Eisley, Mos Espa, and up around this region, Mos Pelgo.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“Well, it’s there. Or, at least, it used to be. Not much to speak of. It’s an old mining settlement.” She turned, looking at the Crest. “They’re going to see that big hunk o’ metal long before you land.”

“You still have that old speeder bike?”

Peli looked at the group of them, already chastising him for the idea before she could do it with her words. “You can’t all fit on one speeder bike. How about we find you one more? The ladies can share.”

Din turned to Omera. “Do you think you could ride a speeder with Winta?”

With a little breathless smile, she shrugged. “I used to race speeders. Why not?”

Suddenly, he was desperate to learn so much more about Omera, but there was no time.

“Where’d you find this one?” Peli teased with a wink. “I know a guy. Let’s get you on your way.”

-

Omera’s speeder bike had a sidecar where Winta sat, strapped in tight. They rode behind Din, whose attention was dead-set on getting them well on their way to Mos Pelgo before the suns set.

As they traveled the sandy dunes of Tatooine, Omera smiled to herself beneath the scarf she used to cover her mouth and nose. It had been a long time since she’d last ridden a speeder, but it felt natural to be back at it again. Winta seemed to enjoy it too, giggling loud enough to be heard over the whirring of the engine. 

Swiftly, it seemed, dusk came upon Tatooine. Din slowed when they spotted a group of camped out Tusken Raiders, all gathered around a fire with something cooking on top of a spit.

“I think we should stop. Ask for directions.” Din spoke just loud enough to be heard over the noise of the bikes. “They know this land.”

Omera nodded in agreement. “Do you speak their language?”

“I speak a lot of languages.”

It was all he said, as if it was the most casual thing in the whole of the galaxies to be well-versed in a lot of languages. She resolved she’d have to ask him more about it later.

Din led them into the camp with one hand held up in an act of peace. The Raiders had banthas grazing, something that drew Winta’s attention. Having slowed her speeder to a stop behind Din, Omera withdrew her scarf and smiled softly at her daughter.

“They’re called banthas.”

Winta’s eyes grew wide with curiosity. “Do you ride them?”

“Sometimes, yes,” Omera confirmed, keeping her voice quiet.

Din spoke to the Tuskens, gesturing with his hands as he went. It seemed the Tuskens found whatever he had to say amenable, returning to the campfire with a gentle gesture of kindness made with one of their staffs.

The Mandalorian turned to them. “They would like us to join them.” 

He stepped toward their speeder and helped Winta out of the sidecar. Omera watched with so much intensity that it prevented her from climbing off of the bike herself. It was endearing to see that he cared.

As soon as Winta had set her feet on solid ground again after a day of riding through the desert, he turned to her. “You alright?” 

Omera smiled and nodded. “Yes.”

Swiftly, she climbed off of the bike and moved to reach into one of the pouches on the side, where she’d stored some food for them to share on their journey to Mos Pelgo. After handing Winta a ration of food, she took her by the hand to walk with her toward the strangers.

She and Winta kept quiet, sitting opposite of Din at the fire that was mostly surrounded by Raiders. Din spoke with them. His knowledge of their language was entirely fascinating to her.

The discussion wasn’t very long, and once it was over, the Raiders took their food that had been cooking and retreated to their banthas just beyond a hunk of rock in the earth so that they could rest.

The fire still crackled between them, giving the armor Din wore a warm orange tint. Beside him, the Child sat, still keeping his unyielding focus on his father.

“They say it isn’t far from here,” Din told them. “Just a few more hours. We can make it by midmorning tomorrow.”

“Did they say if there were people still living there?”

He nodded. “They say it’s a small community.”

Omera looked at Winta. Her daughter kept her gaze on the sky, scanning the stars above them. It must have been a lot for her to take in. A new planet, with new creatures and beings. New languages that didn’t make sense to her mind.

She put her hand on Winta’s back and soothed her by rubbing a gentle circle with her palm. 

“How are you feeling, my love?”

“Tired,” Winta admitted. She scrunched up her nose as her focus returned to her. “We were riding the speeder bike for so long.”

“I know.” Omera smiled sympathetically. She bit down on her lip, thoughtful, and then looked at the rock just opposite them beyond the fire. “Come with me. We can lean back against the rock and try to rest.”

Together, they stood and joined Din on his side of the fire. Winta sat against the rock first, and Omera followed. When she did so, she was surprised to see that the Child stared back at her, his head tilted with curiosity.

“Are you tired too?” she wondered.

The Child made a noise, a little blep. Din scooped him up and stood from his little stool made of a chunk of rock. He moved to join Omera, settling down close enough to her that she felt his shoulder touching hers.

The Mandalorian adjusted his son in his arms, cradling him, and then looked at her. “I’ll keep watch. Just in case.”

“You should rest too,” Omera said. She didn’t want him to carry the burden of being the sole protector of their group. She wanted him to know that he had an equal in her. “I can keep watch for a little while.”

The Mandalorian shook his head. “I’ll be fine.” 

She sighed a little, but nodded regardless. Omera brought her arm around Winta, the girl already eager to lean into her side so she could sleep cushioned by her. 

Gently, Omera allowed her head to fall onto Din’s shoulder, and she felt him go still, as if surprised, but he didn’t say or do anything. 

Then, she heard him sigh softly, and his voice was quiet, “Sleep well.”

-

Almost as soon as the twin suns of Tatooine rose, they were on their way to Mos Pelgo. Feeling not so refreshed from what amounted to a nap or two sitting upright against a rock, Omera felt confident that they would find what they were looking for.

Their arrival caused somewhat of a stir in the people of the tiny town, especially as they slowly rode their speeders through it in search of another of Din’s kind.

“Do you think they’re here?” Winta asked nervously.

Din remained quiet as he surveyed their surroundings from just ahead of them.

Tucked into a pouch that hung from the side of the speeder, the Child peered around at the faces of the onlookers. His little ears twitched at all of the sounds of the new town. Omera could tell that he was incredibly happy to be on an adventure with his father. He’d worn a smile on his face since they landed on Tatooine.

Din slowed to a stop before the town bar and climbed off of his speeder without any further thought or discussion, moving toward the building with intent.

Winta, her carefree girl, very nearly followed after him, but Omera slowed her with an extended hand. Together, they made for quite the crowd. Part of her wondered if it would be sustainable in their search for a Jedi.

“We’ll wait outside, Winta.”

Winta huffed a dramatic sigh, throwing her head back as she folded her arms to her chest. “But Mama, we’re here to help.”

“I don’t think we’ll be very helpful if we get in the Mandalorian’s way.” 

Omera climbed off of the speeder, watching with curiosity when she spotted the Child climbing out of his little pouch to go join Din in the bar. She made no move to stop him. Din was his father, and she was only a friendly face to him.  

As Omera helped Winta out of the sidecar, Winta’s brow furrowed. “I’ve heard you say his name. Din. Can I say it too?”

Omera glanced into the open door to the bar. She saw three figures within, but the light from the suns was too bright for her to know if Din had found who he was searching for.

Looking to her daughter once again, Omera shook her head. “We can ask him. But not yet. He has a lot on his mind right now.”

Taking Winta by the hand, they moved to stand by the door of the bar, off of the sandy road that cut straight through Mos Pelgo. The small town was surprisingly populated for having no markings on any map. In some ways, it reminded her of the village they lived in on Sorgan: a tight-knit group of people from all walks of life, all gathered to form one community.

Just opposite them on the other side of the road, Omera spotted a woman with a baby, swaddled against her chest. The child’s head was all she could see, but she couldn’t help but take compassion on their mother, who struggled to lift a container filled with water up onto the porch of the dwelling.

Their eyes met from across the sandy divide and Omera smiled, her fingers having fallen to the small swell of her belly as a reflex. It seemed the woman found kinship with her, offering a kind smile in return.

There was a great rumbling of the earth that forced Omera into protective mode. She grabbed for Winta as the ground shook and listened as fearful townspeople scurried away from the main road and into their homes as fast as they could.

Suddenly, an alarm blared, but it did not give nearly enough forewarning of what was to come.

Din and another of his kind, donning an aged and worn sort of armor, but who wore no helmet, stepped out of the bar.

She’d learned from Din that Mandalorians wore their full armor in the presence of others. It seemed there was still something for them to learn about Din’s kind, if this man was indeed a Mandalorian.

The sand began to move, as if swallowed by the ground, starting at the far end of town. Swiftly, a creature hidden by sand burrowed straight through, dark and powerful. 

From what Omera could tell, it was a sand dragon, scales the color of the sand. She was sure it had plenty of sharp teeth that would destroy anything that stood in its path, including an innocent bantha just beyond the town’s outer rim.

The dragon made a noise, a moan, and then it was back beneath the surface, burrowing away from Mos Pelgo as if it got what it came for.

It was over almost as soon as it had begun, but the ground still vibrated in the creature’s stead.

Without the alarms blaring, the townspeople began to make right their main road. They worked in teams to reset fallen equipment, to survey the damage as if this were something that happened often. Omera’s heart sank for them.

“Are you alright?” Din’s voice returned her focus to him.

She nodded, realizing that she still held onto Winta as if something was about to happen. She gently released her daughter, glancing past Din to the man in green and red Mandalorian armor.

“We’re fine.”

“Now, hold on,” the man said, a polite smile curling at his lips. “Just who might you be?”

“I’m Omera. This is my daughter, Winta. We’re traveling with the Mandalorian.”

The man looked at Din thoughtfully for a beat. Then, nodded at Omera. “Cobb Vanth. I’m the Marshal of Mos Pelgo.”

“It’s good to meet you, Marshal.”

She had the feeling that Cobb Vanth wasn’t truly a Mandalorian. He seemed carefree in the armor, as if not sworn to any sort of creed. The way Din stared after the Marshal made it clear even without seeing his facial expression: he didn’t trust him.

“That creature’s been terrorizing these parts since long before Mos Pelgo was established.” Cobb said, gesturing to the town street. “Thanks to this armor, I’ve been able to protect this town from bandits and Sand People. They look to me to protect ’em.” He eyed Din. “But a krayt dragon is too much for me to take on alone. Help me kill it, I’ll give you the armor.”

Pausing thoughtfully for a moment, Din seemed to consider how he would do such a thing. 

“Deal. I’ll ride back to the ship, blow it out of the sand from the sky, use the bantha as bait.”

Cobb Vanth shook his head. “Not so simple. The ship passes above, it senses the vibrations, stays underground.” He paused, seeming to know he had Din where he wanted him. “But I know where it lives.”

“How far?”

“A few hours at most.”

-

They rode speeder bikes following Cobb Vanth’s lead straight into Tusken Raider territory. The Tuskens, they soon discovered, had been trying to rid the valley of the krayt dragon, but hadn’t been successful.

As they all sat around a fire in their small village on a tall ridge, Omera listened to the Tusken leader explain to Din that the dragon had taken a home that they would visit come the morning. 

Winta lay curled at Omera’s side, sleeping to the sounds of discussion and a warm fire. On her other side, the Child sat, his ears perked at the chatter. He seemed deeply interested in what was going on, but especially in the sound of Din’s voice.

Cobb Vanth clearly had some qualms about the Sand People, his fears coming out in frustration that ended with Din rising to his feet and blasting a brief stream of fire from his flamethrower between the two parties.

Silence fell over the group for a moment before Din spoke in Tusken again.

“What are you telling them?” Vanth asked, still catching his breath from his anger.

“Same thing I’m telling you,” Din said coolly. “If we fight amongst ourselves, the monster will kill us all.” 

When there wasn’t any conversation left to be had, the Tusken leader made a gesture to Din and their people retreated to their homes a few hearty paces away from the fire.

“We’ll rest here for the night,” Din explained to her and the marshal. 

Pride wasn’t quite the only thing she felt, having watched Din spend the past several hours bridging the gap so that two groups of peoples could not only communicate, but form a bond in the shape of coming together to fight for a similar cause.

Cobb Vanth rose from his perch by the fire and nodded. “You were… very helpful today, Mando. Apologies that things got so heated.”

Din nodded his head once at Vanth, but said nothing in response. Omera stared into the flames of the fire as the marshal’s footsteps faded into the near distance. Perhaps he needed a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Come here, kid,” Din’s voice brought her attention away from Cobb. He stood from his previous spot across the fire, moving to be closer to her and Winta. With hands outstretched, he took his boy into his arms. “Time to sleep.”

The Child made a little noise in protest and Din shook his head, sighing heavily. He reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a small metal ball, holding it between his fingers for just a second before giving it to his son.

The responding coo was enough to make Omera smile. 

The Mandalorian settled himself and his son on the ground beside her, taking care to ensure that the boy was more comfortable than he was. 

There was no doubt in her mind that he was a good father, and he would continue to be, even if she chose not to share the secret she carried within her.

So easily, her mind retreated back to the fact that she still hadn’t told Din. She knew she shouldn’t tell him right then, not with his head in the midst of such a deep, complicated problem. However, soon, she’d have no choice, and that was something that terrified her.

It was dangerous to love a man whose life was one mission, one fight, one danger after the next. She’d learned this once before, with Winta’s father, and had been determined that she wouldn’t allow it to happen again. 

Yet, her heart yearned for him anyway. 

“Is all of this really for a suit of armor?” Omera asked quietly.

Din turned his head toward her. “It’s Mandalorian armor. It doesn’t belong with him.”

Omera smiled thoughtfully. She shifted just slightly, enough that their arms brushed. “I think you can’t help but solve every problem that comes your way. You can’t help but help people.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No. It’s kind.” She rested her head against his shoulder. “You are a good man, Din.” She paused, smiling a little when she took notice of the Child sleeping in his arm. “And a good father.”

The Mandalorian was silent for a moment. His voice cracked when he spoke again, soft, just for her, “I’m trying.”

-

Just shortly before morning arrived on the sandy planet of Tatooine, Omera woke up. She checked on her companions and quickly discovered that the children both remained soundly asleep. 

The Child rested beneath Winta’s arm like he belonged there, making the tiniest noises that made her smile. The visual was a warm reminder of a time to come, when Winta would get to cradle her new sibling as they slept.

Din was nowhere to be found, but Cobb was still asleep as well, hands tucked together against his chest while he laid flat on the ground. 

Omera stood so that she could stretch. It wasn’t easy to sleep on the ground and her body made sure she knew that. With a small grimace, she felt the tell-tale signs of a friendly bout of sickness tickle at the back of her throat.

The Sand People had shown them where they could relieve themselves in private, so she made her way to the space between two rocks and unceremoniously got sick.

By the time she was finished and had pulled herself back together, the suns had finally poked their way past the horizon. As she emerged from the space between the rocks, she saw the Mandalorian. He stood talking with one of the Tuskens, though his attention very quickly shifted onto her.

Averting her gaze with the smallest twinge of embarrassment, Omera walked back to the campsite. Winta had risen for the day and sat up with her arms wrapped around her knees. She stared blankly ahead of her, very clearly just as exhausted as Omera felt.

“Morning, Winta.” Omera managed a smile. “How did you sleep?”

“Not so good.” Winta scrunched up her nose. “The ground is very hard.”

Omera hummed. She went to their speeder bike to grab a container of water from a pouch at the side. When she joined her daughter on the ground, she had a hearty sip to wash away the taste of bile from her throat.

“I don’t suspect we’ll be sleeping on the ground for very much longer,” Omera told Winta. “Do you want some water?”

Winta nodded. She handed the container off to her daughter and peered over at Din. The Mandalorian made his way toward the camp, hands on his hips like he was in charge. His arrival to the camp made his boy toddle toward him with arms outstretched.

“The Tuskens said we have to ride banthas to the sarlacc pit.” 

He leaned down to pick the Child up and settled him into one arm. It was so natural how he fathered his boy.

“Really?” Winta asked eagerly. Suddenly, she was wide awake and ready to see what the day held for them.

Din nodded once. “They’d like us to leave soon, so if we’re all ready…”

Winta was on her feet in an instant. “C’mon, Mama. We get to ride a bantha!”

Omera laughed. She stood again and met Din’s gaze. Her heart skipped an unexpected beat and her belly swooped. 

“You’ll have to teach us how. We don’t have any experience.”

He tilted his head slightly at her. “Well… it’s pretty simple. I don’t know if you need a lesson.”

Omera lifted a shoulder and smiled at him. “Humor us.”

When they were given a bantha to share, Din helped direct them. “You first, Omera. Grab the horn on the saddle. It’s like riding a speeder.”

Omera did as she was told, careful with the mighty beast as she slung her leg over the saddle and put both feet into the stirrups. Looking down, she saw Winta beaming with delight.

“Me next?”

“Here.” Din held out his hands in preparation for grabbing Winta from behind. “I’ll help.” 

The Mandalorian hoisted Winta up into his arms and Omera helped settle her onto the saddle in front of her. When Winta was secured, Omera held onto her tightly, arms wrapped around her middle.

Winta giggled with the brightest kind of happiness. 

“Thank you,” Omera said earnestly to the Mandalorian. 

Din nodded at them. “You’re welcome.”

When their banthas began to move, Winta gasped and laughed again. Din glanced over at them from his and Omera swore she could almost see his smile. 

-

After visiting the sarlacc pit, they returned to the village on the tall ridge for another evening of discussions. The Tuskens showed them that they’d come up with the bare bones of a plan by literally using, well, bones. 

Diplomacy between the people of Mos Pelgo and the Tuskens continued well through the night, arguments and ideas exchanged with tense looks and words spoken through the Mandalorian.

Omera cared for the children as best she could, supervising as they played and drew figures in the dirt. When it came time to eat, she prepared a small meal of soup for the Tuskens to thank them for their kindness. 

As she ladled out a second bowl for the Child, she listened to Din speak with Cobb Vanth. It was apparent that tensions were still high, but she had a feeling Vanth would be unable to keep fighting off the sand people, should he want the krayt dragon to leave his people alone.

Cobb pivoted on his foot, reaching up to scratch his beard in thought, and walked away, leaving Din alone to speak to the Tuskens.

When they seemed satisfied, Din approached the Child, who sat on the ground with his bowl of soup between both hands. 

“He’ll come around to your plan.” Omera stood to ladle out a bowl of soup for the Mandalorian, fresh from the pot over the fire. “He’s just too proud to admit he needs help.”

She held the bowl out for him to take. “It isn’t much, but it will fill you for the night.”

“Thank you.” For a moment, he didn’t take it from her, simply staring at her instead. When he finally extended his fingers to take it, he asked softly, “How are the children handling all of this?”

“As well as any child.” Omera smiled a bit when she recalled Winta’s soft sighs of boredom earlier in the night. Now, she laid on the ground sound asleep. “Winta has already learned so much about the universe she could never learn in her lessons at home. She loves the banthas.”

Din chuckled. “I heard.”

Glancing over at Din’s son, she found him staring up at them with his teeth exposed and a happy giggle. Omera had learned quickly that the boy found the most joy in the simplest moments. He liked being a child, something that he’d never be able to have. Not truly.

“He loves to hear your voice. I think he would be happy anywhere you were.”

Din sat on the ground beside the Child, earning the boy’s affection in an instant. Omera joined them, drawing her knees toward her chest so she could rest her cheek upon them as she gazed after the man she loved.

He adjusted the bowl in his hands. “The plan will only work if we all work together. I worry that won’t be possible.”

Omera’s heart ached. “You’ve done all you can. It’s up to them to see this for what it is.”

The fire crackled and she shifted to allow herself to get lost staring into it. Her mind drifted, thoughts of the future echoing through her mind in a pleasant daydream. 

“The Tuskens told me they were thankful for your kindness today.”

She smiled softly to herself. Looking at Din again, she wondered aloud, “When did you learn their language?”

“I was taught many languages as a child. It was part of my training.”

Omera hummed in understanding. Between them, the Child waved his hand at her, as if trying to get her attention. “Hello, little one.”

“He likes you.”

She flashed a smile at Din. “Since we’re part of the same crew, I’m glad. It would make for difficult travels otherwise.”

Din laughed through his nose, barely enough to humor her. She had the feeling that he was unsure of how to act with her. If she were being honest, she wasn’t exactly sure either. 

She had joined him on this mission out of a deep desire to know if they could be together. She wanted to learn if his time on Sorgan had merely been a gift that should have been cherished for what it was.

So far, she’d found that traveling with the Mandalorian brought her more comfort than she’d thought it could. 

For so long after he left the village, whether she meant to or not, she’d waited for him to return. As the days had passed, she wondered if he could possibly feel the same way she felt for him. It was nice to think that maybe he did. Why else would he have invited her to come with him?

His fingers caressed the rim of his bowl of soup, a reminder to her that he wouldn’t eat it unless he could remove his helmet, something that would require him to be alone.

Carefully, Omera lifted his son from where he sat between them into her arms and cradled him against her chest. 

“We’ll turn away so you can eat.”

With a brief look around to check their surroundings, Din nodded.

Omera turned away from the Mandalorian, focused on the babbling Jedi child in her arms. He put a hand on her cheek and she smiled at him.

“Are you getting tired yet?” she asked quietly. “Winta fell asleep a while ago.”

The Child’s fingers moved away from her face and he blinked slowly, revealing that he was indeed getting sleepy. Omera lifted her fingers to the wrinkled top of his head and soothed him.

Softly, she sang the words of an ancient lullaby, a song she’d sung to Winta when she was a newborn baby. A song she would sing one day to the child growing within her as well.

As the verses of the song came to an end, she hummed the melody, gently swaying with the Child in her arms. His eyes had fallen shut, but she could tell he wasn’t quite asleep yet.

After a few more minutes, she rested her palm over his belly and lowered her lips to the top of his head. “Sleep well.” 

“You have a beautiful singin’ voice, if you don’t mind me sayin’.”

Omera looked up at the sound of Cobb Vanth’s voice. He approached the fire with his hands settled on his hips.

She smiled at his complimentary words. “Thank you, Marshal.”

The Marshal of Mos Pelgo turned his attention to the Mandalorian. “It’s nice to see a family tight knit as you are. Got some really good kids, too.”

Slowly, she shifted in her spot, turning to see Din again. He’d replaced his helmet, the bowl empty on the ground beside him. 

“Thanks.”

The Mandalorian didn’t correct Cobb. She wasn’t sure what he would correct him with. They weren’t technically a crew. They weren’t technically a family. They were more than friends. Perhaps the best thing to say was nothing at all.

Cobb slowly slunk towards them, settling himself down on a boulder across the fire from Din. 

“I’ve given it some thought. The deal is too good for us to pass up. We lose the dragon. Our town can return to life as normal. And, we get an ally in the Tuskens, as strange as that would be.”

“All they’re asking is you keep the peace,” Din said. “Think you can manage that?”

He nodded. “I think so.”

“Then tomorrow, we’ll go back to Mos Pelgo and get prepared for a fight.”

Cobb flashed them a smile, nodding his head. He looked at the pot hanging over the fire. “Somethin’ smells real good.”

“Oh, you can have some,” Omera smiled back at him. “I managed to pull some soup together.”

“Anything beats the roast mystery critters we had last night. Much obliged, ma’am.”

As Cobb helped himself to the soup over the fire, Din suddenly rose to his feet and walked over to his speeder bike. He grabbed something from a satchel hanging off the side, obscured in the dark. When he returned to the fire, he knelt at Winta’s side and covered her sleeping body in a blanket. Omera smiled at the kindness of the act.

Din lingered for a second when he stood, his attention on the Child in Omera’s arms, and then he was back at her side, his shoulder brushing hers.

Omera looked at the Mandalorian, listening as the fire crackled, and found that he focused on her. 

They didn’t need to talk. She shifted closer to him and rested her cheek against the cool of his armor. Her gaze comfortably returned to the fire in front of them. Din’s fingers found her knee, as if it were his way of welcoming her intimacy.

“Do you want to help during the fight?” Din asked, his voice quiet.

Omera didn’t need to think about it. She was here to help Din on his path, and that path now included a fight with a krayt dragon. As scary as it was, she knew deep within her very soul that they would be capable, especially with the help of many.

“Of course. I’ll do whatever I can.”

The Mandalorian’s fingers flexed a little on her knee. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She smiled to herself, unable to help it. “Me too.”

-

With the Marshal of Mos Pelgo willing to try the plan that the Tuskens pulled together, they returned to the sleepy town with the intention of drafting an army composed of every townsperson. 

It wasn’t easy. There were some hard words and tense arguments. As they began to saddle up their banthas, a few of the townspeople fought with the Tuskens, but Cobb Vanth was quick to calm things. 

Hopefully, the tensions between the two groups wouldn’t be a sign of things to come.

When they arrived at the abandoned sarlacc pit for the second time, Omera and Winta helped the townspeople with their elaborate trap in the ground. There seemed to be a confidence that built over the course of the morning, as they crafted the trap that would ensnare the great krayt dragon.

When it came time for them to execute the plan, she retreated to the distant line at the back of the fight, where Din and Cobb Vanth were waiting with a few of the Tusken leaders.

With the Child in her arms and Winta at her side, Omera felt nervous. She hadn’t wanted to bring the children along, but Din promised that when it came time for the dragon to be baited, Winta and the Child would be tucked away, protected from the violence to come.

None of them imagined it would fail. In fact, there was no choice. They had to succeed.

Din approached her with a rifle in his hand. “We need you to shoot.”

Omera nodded once and took a deep, steadying breath. It was time for them to wake the dragon. She lowered the Child into Winta’s arms. 

“Go to the little alcove we found earlier. I’ll come for you when it’s safe. Don’t be afraid.”

Winta bobbed her head and was on her way, fast and easy, with no arguing. It was good, Omera thought, that she wasn’t any older, lest they have a fight over if she could stay and be part of the battle.

Omera took the weapon from Din, their fingers brushing ever so slightly during the pass. She didn’t like to shoot, but this was part of the agreement she’d made with herself when she decided to leave Sorgan to join Din. She would defend herself, and her children. 

“We’ll stay back here. Hopefully it doesn’t get too messy.”

The Mandalorian had planted the roots of confidence in the army gathered at the entrance of the abandoned sarlacc pit, but now, they would all have to work together to find victory in that confidence.

At first, the plan seemed to work. The dragon emerged, its roars angry, and it was eager to snack on a few of the Sand People that couldn’t move fast enough. Each life lost made Omera’s heart ache all the more. 

The Tuskens deployed their spear launchers, tethering the dragon to them by rope so that they could try and pull it towards them. It wasn’t an easy task.

The creature slithered in the sand closer to their charges, but not quite close enough to make the hit fatal. The Tuskens yelled in their language, clearly getting a little bit frustrated, and Din cursed aloud.

“Dank farrik, it’s going back in.”

The Tusken Raiders began screaming, frantic, and they all watched with bated breath as the dragon began to slink backwards, the rope of the launched spears popping free and dragging a few of the raiders back with the monster.

“It’s retreating.”

“I’m going to hit it,” Cobb Vanth said. He held in his hand the button that ignited the charges they’d set.

Omera’s eyes widened. “There’s only one shot. Don’t.”

“We’ve gotta get it out first,” Din agreed. 

Even though it was logical, Vanth gritted his teeth and shook his head at them. For now, he was complacent. 

The dragon seemed stagnant, lingering in a backwards-forwards shifting position. The townspeople began to throw explosives at it and a line of fighters fired their weapons. It noticed the people on the ground and slithered forward once, letting out a great roar.

This time, its jaws descended upon one of the people of Mos Pelgo.

“Now?” Cobb asked Din with a wavering tone.

“Not yet.” Din’s voice was level and calm. Practiced. He knew what would work. “It’s gotta come out further.”

Another deep-bellied roar. The Tuskens used their spear launchers a second time with zealousness, sending several into the beast’s head so they could pull it forward.

The body of the beast slithered forwards, roaring and moaning as it went, clearly trying to break free. One of the ropes snapped from the mechanism it had been tethered to, sending three Tuskens skyward, and the krayt dragon lifted its head out of the sand, roaring as if in warning to all of the offending fighters.

It dove forward, a sickly green bile spewing from its mouth onto the retreating army. 

“Almost. Almost.” Din kept a level head in the midst of what seemed to be a near failure. As soon as the beast settled onto the ground again, he shouted, “Now!”

The detonator beeped and the charges ignited, prompting the krayt dragon to let out a pained roar as it slithered down and backwards into the sand again. Silence. A great cloud of dust filled the air.

But it didn’t feel like a victory.

“I don’t think it’s dead,” Vanth finally said.

“Me either,” Din agreed.

As if hearing the conversation, at the top of the mountain that towered above the entrance to the pit, the dragon sprung to life, lurching forward from the rocks, roaring at its enemies as they began to fire upon it with blasters. Then, more of the green acid spit from its mouth onto the group of innocents below.

Omera pulled the trigger of the rifle, aimed at the dangerous beast, but she was sure she did absolutely no good. It did seem that their explosion had caused it an injury, but in its annoyed state, it seemed more volatile.

“It’s picking us off like womp rats,” Vanth uttered. “Let’s get after it!” 

Rushing backwards, away from the mess of the battle, Omera focused on the creature in her sights and listened as the two men in armor took off by jet pack, soaring closer to the beast as it writhed in the rocks. They fired at it, but even at close range, their weapons seemed to do no damage.

The dragon lurched at them and the duo flew back onto the ground with the majority of their forces. As they did so, the creature disappeared, burrowing down through the rock, and for a few heart-stopping moments, they waited for it to reappear again.

When it did, it attacked the group from the side.

Omera watched through her scope as Vanth used his armor to release a missile at it. The explosion drew the dragon’s attention toward the group on the ground.

She saw Cobb pass Din the detonator. Then, he used the end of his gun to force Vanth’s jetpack to take off, launching him high above the ground in a cloud of smoke.

Slowly, the krayt dragon moved like a predator seeking out its prey. The townspeople fled, and so did she, scattering around with haste, but Din stood still. 

As she helped a fallen townsperson stand to their feet, Omera focused on Din, her eyes narrowing and her heart racing in her ears.

The Mandalorian stood in front of a bantha, who had more smarts than he did, struggling to get free and run far away from the dangerous dragon, but Din grabbed the rope, tugging at the creature to get it to stay put.

And then, it happened.

Omera’s eyes widened in disbelief when she watched Din get swallowed whole by the great dragon. Its teeth seemed all the sharper as its mouth descended upon the man she loved. 

Then, as if it hadn’t done anything at all, it disappeared into the sand.

Her breath caught in her lungs and she stopped breathing. The world felt absolutely silent and gone around her, even if the battle still raged on.

Feeling entirely numb, Omera stumbled backwards, unable to continue moving with the rest of the fleeing army. She instead watched the ground where the dragon had disappeared with a palm pressed to her rapidly beating heart to see if maybe, maybe Din had a plan. 

Maybe he hadn’t just run straight into the belly of a krayt dragon with an explosive bantha and no other thoughts in his head.

After a handful of seconds that felt like an eternity, the ground began to shake. The dragon burst from the earth, releasing a roar of pain, and she saw Din soaring out of its mouth with his jet pack. 

In the next instant, there was an explosion that shook the entire valley, a violent shockwave emanating from the beast as it was torn apart from the energy of the detonation.

With a relieved gasp for air, Omera closed her eyes and allowed herself to smile. They had been successful. The dragon had been slain.

From his spot flying above the explosion, Din flew toward her, settling on the ground with ease.

She approached him swiftly, clamoring to touch him, as gross is it would be. He dripped with green fluid from the belly of the creature, but all she cared about was knowing that he was alive; that she could touch him and know he had survived. 

Her fingers settled on the braces of his forearms and she held on tight. She finally felt as if she could breathe easy again.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” Din apologized instantly. “It was the only way.”

Omera shook her head. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

For a few seconds, they stared at one another, not saying anything at all. Her mind felt empty, but she was so full of gratitude and adrenaline-fueled joy that she almost wanted to admit to him that she loved him.

Reality settled in before she could do something so out of place. She pulled away from the Mandalorian and took a half step backward. 

“Let’s get the children,” Din said. “We should probably head back to the ship as soon as we can.”

Omera smiled. “Your son will be anxious to see you.”

When they approached the small alcove where Winta sat, cradling the Child tightly to her chest. Their eyes both lit up at the sight of them.

“Mama!”

Winta scrambled to her feet and eagerly handed the Child to his father before she wrapped Omera in a snug, tight hug.

“Are you alright, my love?” Omera asked, cradling the back of her head.

Winta nodded. Omera kissed the top of her daughter’s head and looked up in time to see the Child with his hands on Din’s helmet, cooing warmly as Din cradled him in the crook of his arm.

“Alright, alright,” Din mumbled. “You’re excited. I get it.”

Omera chuckled. Winta detached herself from her and went to Din. Her arms went around his waist, hugging him just as tight as she’d hugged Omera. He seemed surprised, but with a glance downwards, he put his hand on her back.

“Are you okay?” Winta asked him. 

“Yes. We defeated the dragon.”

Omera couldn’t help but smile softly at the sight of Din with both of the children wrapped in his arms. Her heart felt impossibly full, somehow, after having very nearly broken just minutes ago.

“What will we do now?” Winta asked, her smile bright as she stepped away from the Mandalorian. 

“We’ll return to the ship,” Din said. “Keep looking for another of my kind.”

Winta nodded. “And we’ll go too?”

Omera and Din exchanged glances. She could tell that he was just as curious to know what she thought of the mission they’d found themselves on and if she wanted to continue on the path forward.

She’d been nervous that something like this would happen when she agreed to come with him. A near-death experience was likely in the daily agenda of a Mandalorian. Even so, she had faith, perhaps blind, that Din would take care of them, and that this journey would give them a tighter bond.

“Yes,” Omera agreed, “we’ll go too.”

Her daughter beamed up at her, then looked at Din. “Since we’re still going to be traveling together, what should I call you?”

The Mandalorian hesitated for a moment in silence, probably debating whether or not he wanted Winta to know his name. “You can call me Din.”

“Din,” Winta repeated. “Okay.”

“Don’t say it among strangers,” Omera said gently. “Out of respect.”

Winta bobbed her head with understanding and reached for Omera’s hand. 

Omera took a steadying breath. After the day they’d had, she felt tired and wished for a place to rest, but it was likely they wouldn’t have any rest for a while. 

Almost immediately, the Tuskens got to work carving up the fallen dragon in the sand. It smelled awful, but it was a relief to all that it was gone now. 

They offered them a hunk of meat from the dragon, thanking them for their part in the execution of the plan, and Din secured it to the back of his speeder bike.

Once they found Cobb Vanth, the man followed through on his end of the deal he’d made with the Mandalorian. He gave Din the armor with a smile, not one ounce of remorse in his features.

“This was well-earned.”

Din took the well-worn suit of armor and added it to his growing collection of gifts on the speeder. 

“It was my pleasure.”

Cobb turned to Omera and Winta. “Thank you for your help. Couldn’t have done it without you.” He looked at the Mandalorian for a moment. “I’ve never seen someone act so quick on their feet like this man here. You should be proud.”

She couldn’t help but smile fondly, casting her gaze onto Din. “We all worked together. We should all be proud of what we accomplished today.”

With a bright grin, Cobb shook Din’s hand. “I hope our paths cross again, Mando.”

“As do I.” 

“You too, Omera.” Cobb winked. He took a few steps back, gesturing to the Mandalorian with a tilt of his head. “Keep an eye on this one. He’s nothin’ but trouble.”

Omera laughed. “I will.”

Once they were all settled on their speeder bikes, Omera gave Din a nod of approval and a smile that reflected the contentment she felt. 

They hadn’t found a Mandalorian on Tatooine, but instead, she had seen him lead the once divided valley into peace. How lucky was she that she could be on a journey with someone capable of accomplishing something like that? 

Din was ever so patient, waiting for her to give him the all-clear. “Ready to go?” 

Omera nodded again. She lifted her scarf from where it rested around her neck to cover her mouth. “We’ll follow your lead.”

[airi-p4]

While it lasts

This was supposed to be kind of a S4 theory about akumatized Luka + a canon-verse Lukanette approach. I guess my hand slipped?  This is similar to my previous fic ‘Betrayer’, in which Juleka was the akumatized one. 

Warning: ANGST.

AO3 _________________________

"Jagged Stone is your father" Anarka had just told her twin children.

Luka's world was shattered into pieces.

Jagged Stone. His favorite musician. His inspiration. His mother's old music partner.

Their father.

One word occupies his mind: abandoned.

And the image of him takes a 180 degree turn. From admiration to despise.

His idol abandoned him. Him and his sister. His mother too.

Why?

He hates it. He hates all of it.

He hates it so much, not even his girlfriend Marinette can calm him down like she usually does. Not even her sympathetic voice or her sweet heart melody can heal him. Neither could her hand pressed on his in comfort.

Juleka's mind had gone blank for some seconds. Memories of how fond Luka was of Jagged Stone occupying her mind. 'Cool', she thinks, and then she focuses on her brother, who is clearly in shock.

In silence. In a trance.

He can't hear anything anymore, she realizes, after noticing how he isn't paying attention to either Marinette's, her mother's or her own calls.

His heart song is strident, loud, noisy- And his eyes lose all his light, all his kindness too.

'Abandoned'

This word keeps spiraling in his mind. On repeat. In an infinite loop.

"Luka!" He hears Marinette's voice call him in alert, finally making him snap out of it and find the strength to fight the akuma that just entered his guitar.

“Marinette… Don’t abandon me…” he begs, holding her while fighting not to lose control and fall under Shadow Moth's control.

“I won’t”, she assures him, clearly supporting him. She keeps encouraging him not to fall into the darkness of the dark butterfly.

Her melody is sincere. So sincere she can’t hide her still unburied feelings for certain blond hair and green eyes that make her heart flutter. And he can see it: the moment that is bound to happen, the moment Marinette will break up with him to go to Adrien. The moment all walls separating them will collapse and they will meet each other in the tangled maze of secrets they’re currently trapped in. The crumble of the castle that allowed him the miracle to have her by his side at this moment.

“You won’t” he whispers, feeling his biggest fear close: Silence- loneliness.

Abandoned.

His arms tighten around her, holding her even closer, impeding her from moving. He pulls her so close he's even hurting her a little. Marinette slightly protests in a cry, but she’s more emotionally affected than physically. "Luka-!"

She's scared.

She wants to assure him she’s honest. She wishes to be able to give him all her love, her existence-

And his newly appeared akuma form is willing to take it all.

His guitar is now a big fish net, his body has grown 3 times bigger and his looks are similar to a sea God. ‘Glaucus’, he calls himself. The name of the God of the fishermen in Greek mythology. His hair is longer, and his belly has become a transparent fish tank, where he plans to keep his loved ones, both safe and close so they don’t abandon him.

Punishment for the ones who abandon, lie and betray.

Protection for the loved ones.

'Justice', he calls it.

He doesn’t even need a big fish tank, because his loved ones are limited. A countable number of individuals is enough for him: Marinette, his mother, his twin sister, the rest of Kitty Section… Mylène too, maybe, since he would feel bad for Ivan if he left her out of it. And he would consider Marinette's family too, since he knows how much she appreciates them.

As for punishment? It's also clear: Jagged Stone comes first, followed by Lila Rossi among others who have dared to hurt his loved ones, such as Chloe Bourgeois and Bob Roth.

Marinette trembles at the vision after he finally lets her go of her to grab his fish catching instrument. A tear escapes her eye, and slides to fall from her chin. And then she runs: because that’s the only way she can help him: run, transform, defeat him and fix the damage she will fight to prevent from happening.

But she's ignoring the most important fact. The fact that that's exactly the action which will lead to her down fall, the sight that frightens Luka the most: Marinette turning her back to him, leaving him all alone.

His song abandoning him.

Rage, pain and despair fills his heart, unable to be contained with his meditation or her music. The music he himself turned into a loud mess, sounding just like nails scraping on a chalkboard, painful to his ears and his soul.

And that’s when he traps her, his net capturing her and turning her into a small, bright pink colored mermaid, he literally swallows to get her inside the fish tank he carries inside his transparent glass made belly.

A relieved sigh leaving his throat: Marinette is now secured. She won't leave his side again. ‘Who’s next…?’ He questions himself, looking at his horrified mother, Anarka as he smirks. He'll soon have all of them in his treasured fish tank.

And what will happen to those who deserve punishment? Fish out of the water- dry fins gasping for oxygen. Dead fish with eyes as cold as their hearts. Or even better- Jagged is going to be abandoned on his own before that- just like he cold-heartedly abandoned him and his sister.

And now that he mentions it… 'Where's Juleka?'

The akuma looks for her, but he doesn't see her around. 'She can wait' he decides, his chants summoning a big sea wave to carry him to his unwanted father's hotel suite.

__________

Jagged Stone can't believe his eyes. An akuma claiming to be his son has just turned Penny into a goldfish, who is now struggling with tiny desperate jumps for oxygen to breathe through her newly acquired fins. Impossible without water. Fang is next to join Jagged's personal assistant, now tiny and convulsing.

"Who are you!? Why are you doing this!? I have no kids!! Don't lie!! Stop this! Turn them to their original forms! They could die!" The rock star angrily begs under Glaucus lashes.

"You're the one who is lying! My mother never lies, so you are the one lying when you say you have no children! You're the one who abandoned us!" He yells as angry as Jagged. "All the admiration and respect I had for you is now hate and disgust! You deserve punishment for the sake of Justice!"

"Stop right there, mermaid boy. Didn't we already make it clear what the difference between revenge and justice was when you were 'Silencer'?" Chat Noir joined the battle, protecting Jagged from being crushed under the akuma's weapon.

The akuma attacks again, but this time he's stopped by someone else. Someone Chat Noir brought along with him- a new superhero.

_______

During the time Marinette was trapped, Tikki, safe and sound, had carried a Miraculous to Juleka, who was watching terrified at how the events developed on TV. She was too focused to notice the kwami, but she clearly noticed the box that fell on her hand out of nowhere. Reaching it, she curiously opened it, and a magical creature appeared in front of her.

"Hi there! I'm Roarr. It's nice to meet you, Juleka!" The little tiger introduced himself.

"What are you? What's going on?" Juleka questioned.

"I'm a kwami. I grant powers! Put on that jewelry and call for the magical words to transform into a superhero"

"Me? A superhero like Ladybug? I don't think I can-" she nervously mumbled, unconfident.

"The guardian chose you for this mission! You want to save your brother, right?" Juleka nodded. "Then say the words: Roarr, transform me"

"Roarr, transform me" Juleka said, and magic surrounded her. Her new appearance was purple with tiger-like orange colored stripes over her body. Her mask was the same colors of the suit, and a pair of tiny ears decorated her now tied hair, her ponytail loose in the wind.

Moments later, she ran towards the hotel, unknowingly followed by Ladybug's kwami.

And the battle started.

________________

"Luka! I know you're hurt, but Jagged is telling the truth! He never abandoned u- you! He never knew he was a father! He probably doesn't even know by now!" The new hero desperately yelled.

"Lies! All lies! He deserves punishment! And you do too!" The akuma points at the heroes and Jagged who is hiding behind them.

"I'll show you the truth!" The tigress announces, calling for her superpower.

Her claws become shiny and with one touch, she marks an ‘X’ on Jagged's forehead, and a purple cloud comes out of his mouth and surrounds them, as if they had just entered his dreamland- except it's, in fact, the rock star’s memories.

Luka is in denial. It is true. Jagged Stone never knew about them. Which means he abandoned them unknowingly. Was he innocent, though?

No, he wasn’t. Because he had indeed abandoned his mother.

_______

Meanwhile, Marinette had been trying to find a way out of the fish tank. She couldn't transform into Ladybug even if Tikki was free, because that would make her identity public. She needed another plan.

That's when she asked Tikki to get Juleka the tiger Miraculous- and it had, once again, been the right choice.

Marinette couldn't just stay still,watching. She fought to find a way out.

Making use of the constant moving water, and with Anarka and Kitty Section's help, she found a way up, arriving to his heart. Or was it the akuma’s heart? It didn’t matter to her as long as she could save him.

The sight was not what she had expected: a vast sea surrounded by colorful stained glass with the people he cared the most portrayed on them. Anarka, Juleka and Kitty Section were there. Big, colorful and shining bright.

Marinette continued swimming in his inner tormented sea of darkness until she found another glass under a cliff: hers. It looked beautiful, but unreachable, since a rose garden guarded and protected it. Untouchable beauty.

Was this Luka's vision of her? A beautiful flower surrounded by thorns, with green stains on paint messing with the almost perfect piece of art’s balance and making it painful to watch?

Marientte felt her heart ache in guilt.

She knew she was the cause of the hurt in his eyes which he sometimes looked at her with. He had always seen through her, despite how much she had been starting to believe her own lies about ‘moving on’ and ‘love’.

Marinette shook her head: no time to waste. Cry later. Focus now.

Her tail brought her to a cliff island with a broken stained glass window next to it. The one that belonged to Jagged Stone, as his name was written on a rock. It most likely broke at the revelation of Jagged being Luka’s father, but now the window was pitch black, with the pieces scattered on the floor. Silent.

She could feel his fears of being abandoned in her own skin, and froze at the realization: his endurance and his strength were only there thanks to music. A music his heart lacked at the moment.

Music.

That's the answer. Music was what healed his heart. This time too, he needed music.

But what could she do without musical knowledge? Or without any instrument to play?

'My voice' she notices. ‘I still have my voice’

Marinette starts singing her own heart song as composed by Luka, while the battle outside continues, now with their visit to Jagged Stone's memories.

Perfect timing.

And clouds appear over Jagged's glass window, the wind carrying some pieces back to its original place- partly reconstructed.

Maybe the mermaid form had another purpose, Marinette wonders. Maybe Luka couldn't completely let go of music, after all, whether he was akumatized or not. Or maybe...

Back to present, Marinette sees a light up that lifts her out of Luka's insides. Next time she blinks, she has recovered her original appearance- clumsy human girl Marinette.

"Run!" Chat Noir commands, and she obeys. As she runs, she gazes back at Luka, who shows her a painfully sad smile.

"Marinette!" Her kwami calls her before she can give it deeper thought. "Tikki! Spots on!"

Moments later, Ladybug makes it to the battle. "Lucky charm!"

____________

The battle ends soon. Too soon, to Ladybug's surprise. ‘Why did he offer no resistance?’

She'll have time to think about this later. First… "Miraculous Ladybug!" Ladybug rushed to recover Juleka's Miraculous so they could go back to Luka as soon as possible.

"Thank you, Ladybug" Juleka says, running off to hug her brother.

Marinette detransforms next and soon reaches them too. But she hesitates again. Should she be by his side when she hurts him so much?

Luka meets her gaze and smiles softly, apologetically and embarrassed, but clearly welcoming her. And she doesn't hesitate anymore to join their collective hug, melting in love after a swirl of emotions. They part from the hug and they all focus on Jagged Stone who is still processing what happened.

"Wait a second- Are you really my children…? You thought I abandoned you…?” Jagged asks the twins, before turning his head to Anarka. “Why didn't you tell me? Weren't we partners? 'Rock-'n'-roll until the crocodile controls'. Remember?"

"You said you wanted to go solo. You left me behind. Did you really expect me to go back to you after the humiliation I suffered? I gave you my heart and you threw me away as soon as you could!" Anarka yelled.

"I was young and immature, and not the best father figure, I admit it! But I deserved to know! You should have told me!"

"I'm telling you now! They are your children, Luka and Juleka. If you ever want to meet them, you know where we live. Don’t you ever come back if you plan to abandon them later" Anarka says, grabbing her children's shoulders and guiding them to move out of the hotel room with a push.

"I'm sorry…" Luka mumbles to Jagged, before leaving the room.

"I'm the one who is sorry…" Jagged admits to Marinette before she runs to follow the Couffaines and Kitty Section. “I’ll go visit sometime! I promise!”

“Are you ok, Luka?” Marinette asks after leaving through the hotel doors, seeing how Jagged is looking at them from the highest balcony.

“I will be. Eventually…” he returns his gaze down to focus on Marinette, reaching to hold her hand. “I don’t need Jagged’s music as long as I can listen to yours''

Marinette feels her cheeks burn.

________________________

On their way home, Marinette can’t take what she’s seen out of her head. ‘It was Luka's heart, right? And Luka’s true feelings. He truly loves me’, she realized. ‘But why…?’

With an instant of bravery, Marinette pulls Luka's hand to separate themselves from the rest of his family and friends.

"Luka… I- Am I painful to be with? To watch?" She bites her lip a bit and asks in terror. “Am I hurting you?”

"Of course not, Marinette. Never.” Luka assures her with a soft, faint smile. “You're more than I could ever ask for. You're the most beautiful song I've ever heard"

"Even if I have those unbearable to watch green stains...?" she whispers, embarrassed and angry at herself for not being able to make her feelings go according to her wishes.

"It can’t be helped, can it? And even if that’s the case, for me, you’re still the most beautiful despite those colors"

“Is my heart song really enough to cover for that ugliness? I hate it myself…”

“You shouldn’t. Imperfections can enhance beauty. I don’t mind them as long as I can hear your song up close” he answers.

“But-! Are you sure…? Aren’t you afraid I might end up abandoning you?” she finally asks, scared for his answer.

“I am. I’m terrified” he admits. “But how am I supposed to stand in the way of your wishes- your happiness? I can’t and I won’t do that” Luka shrugs, “Aren’t you scared of being abandoned too?”

“I am” she answers, after giving it some thought. “and that’s not the main reason for it, but I want to stay by your side” she realizes, “more than ever”.

Luka squeezes her hand and shows her a soft expression. “Thank you for always saving me. Akumatized or not,” he whispers to her ear. It surprises Marinette to see how his cheeks are pink over his fond smile.

“No-! I- I just sang a song and- It was all thanks to the new her-” she stopped herself. Luka couldn’t possibly remember what happened when he was akumatized. No one told him, no one showed him the news. He couldn’t know he turned her into a mermaid, or how she sang. Yet he thanked her for saving him.

‘Of course he knows’ Marinette understands. ‘Yet he didn’t reveal me to Shadow Moth and he let me go on purpose, too’. Her thoughts deepen. ‘I get it now’ she reaches her conclusion. ‘He wanted me to save him. He wanted me to take him back after he realized he was on the wrong side. It makes sense. He protected me despite being akumatized once again- like when he was Silencer’.

The girl’s feet stop walking for a moment at the revelation, causing Luka to look back at her. Taking one step closer, she raises on her tiptoes and gives Luka a kiss on his lips, surprising both of them.

‘I wonder what kind of music his heart is hearing now,’ she wonders, ‘because I can only hear a grateful and sincere happy tune in my own heart right now’

“Your heartsong is beautiful” she finishes with a smile he reciprocates.

Most likely, both of them knew deep inside that their relationship as it was now was bound to end at some point, sooner or later. Maybe both of them would always be afraid of loneliness and being abandoned, too. But wasn’t it enough to enjoy the music they created in that instant, while it lasts? Isn’t it the same with live concerts? They might end, but the sensations last forever in memories. Is it something to regret? Neither of them felt it was. And perhaps both of them secretly agreed with that logic as they continued walking hand in hand, enjoying each other's company and welcoming their mutual love and support, in whatever form their relationship changes into in the future.

[its-sixxers]

Swan Song

Ulfric Stormcloak is dead. The civil war is halted - for now. Alduin awaits. Idunn and Tandreth are all too aware of the fate of heroes.

(borderline wip but a snippet in apology for my absence <3)

Despite centuries living, Tandreth had at last discovered something he’d never witnessed before.

What it felt like to be a hero.

Amidst the ruin Whiterun rose from the ashes like a phoenix to celebrate - the dead were buried, injuries nursed, grudges put to bed. Tandreth still felt the sting of where the Ulfric’s blade had bit into his ribs, but the mead of Jarl Balgruuf had quelled his pain. Throughout the night toasts had been made even when the scent of burned flesh still lingered even in Dragonsreach - the Companions often the source of uproarious laughter, the local bard testing out a few new verses in his attempt to give the event justice.

Tandreth had been fawned over, and if it were only a few years ago he’d have been happy to take to bed a train of admirers. As he sat at the feast table, however, he was only all too aware that his fame was based solely on his proximity to others - and for the first time, he was content in that knowledge.

Azuraansi sat near the Jarl himself, nursing her single goblet of wine and leaning in conspiratorially between Balgruuf and Irileth, discussing matters he couldn’t imagine. Whatever they were, it brought a smile to her usually icy features - though colored with a hearty dose of exhaustion.  Tandreth smiled in turn to see his twin sister flattered and content, to be recognized for her ability and to, for once, not have her victory turn to ashes in her hands.

Most of his attention was diverted to the guest of honor, however.

Idunn - Dragonborn, who’d come to Whiterun’s aid on a dragon with he and his sister in tow, who’d engaged Ulfric Stormcloak in single combat, whose Shouts had caused lighting to crack across the sky and who sang with every sweep of her warhammer. She’d been like Ysgramor himself, like Talos, like any other figure of legend - auburn hair blazing, so young, and yet she could not mirror the smiles and cheers offered her. Instead she let Raansi engage with the Jarl and the excited elite of Whiterun, preferring to stare into her goblet of mead. 

Ulfric Stormcloak was dead. It was cause for celebration for many - it should have been cause for celebration for her.

Yet despite the man’s many sins, Idunn was no executioner.

By the time Tandreth finally managed to gain an opportunity to politely excuse himself from the feast table, she was absent. Unmissed - Talos was charismatic, Ysgramor larger than life. Idunn always seemed to try her best to fade into the background, to bore any who tried to engage with her. 

Slipping into the shadows was second nature, and all the easier with most of the Great Hall too inebriated to perceive anything but their own joy. Tandreth slipped away from the celebratory feast and into Dragonsreach’s state quarters, all revelry muffled by the thick oak doors closing behind him.

Moonlight trickled in through the windows of the back hall high above. The place was unguarded - whether those assigned to their posts were dead or excused was beyond Tandreth’s knowledge, but the thought of the keep’s inhabitants unguarded as they slept unsettled him. Quickly he made haste to the quarters that had been granted to Idunn - those that used to belong to the Jarl’s wife, at the pinnacle of Dragonsreach’s many steps. His own were at a lower level, and were it not for Irileth’s own status he’d wonder if it was a slight.

The carved door to Idunn’s chambers was unlocked, not that it’d be a concern for him if it wasn’t - and quietly he cracked it open to peer inside.

Idunn wasn’t in her bed. He knew it the moment the sound of snoring didn’t meet his ears, and quietly he slipped inside. The curtains shifted from an incoming draft, and he knew where to go.

Beyond the solar was the bedroom, whose north wall possessed a great stone arch framed by woven linen curtains that led to a stone balcony beyond. Multicolored lights spilled through the windows onto the four poster bed.

A familiar figure stood on the balcony, backlit by the aurora.

Whiterun’s tundra stretched for miles below, the night sky above splashed with the watercolor of numerous shifting lights. Idunn leaned against the banister wearing nothing but a man’s undershirt, hem laying across the middle of her powerful thighs. Tandreth could see numerous bruises blooming upon her pale skin, as varied in color as the night sky above.

“It’s your night, you know. You should enjoy it.” Tandreth said gently, announcing his presence. Idunn only turned her head a fraction to acknowledge him, her cheeks shining with what he knew were shed tears. Slowly he approached, coming to her side by the banister. 

“There’s nothing to celebrate.” she answered, voice thin. Yes, she’d been crying. “The Plains District is ashes. Good people are dead.”

“Yes.” Tandreth agreed, watching her white-knuckle grip on the banister. “But more would have perished if it wasn’t for you. The day’s won. Now’s for drinking, to forget the bloodshed, to relish being alive.”

Idunn dropped her gaze to him, looking more afraid than he’d ever seen her. It made something in his chest clench to see it - the whites of her eyes in the dark. “For how long?”

He offered his best smile in an effort to reassure her. “For eternity, if we’re lucky. Maybe Nine will become Ten. Say hello to Dibella for me if that’s the case, she’s always sounded like a fun time.”

The effort fell flat, for Idunn made a choked noise in her throat and looked back to the tundra below - to the embers that yet burned, further evidence of battle hidden by the dark. “There’s only one thing left, now.”

Alduin. A fear marked by the panic in her face whenever a shadow crossed the sky. A god. How could anyone kill a god?

Unbidden Tandreth’s hand settled upon her own, his dark skin a stark contrast to hers. The action stilled her ragged breathing, granting him some relief. “You’ve succeeded in everything. You can do this. I’m with you, for what little it helps. I believe in you.” The expected words. The words he was supposed to say.

Again she shook her head. “That’s not what I’m worried about.” she whispered. “It’s what happens after.”

“After?” Tandreth looked up at her quizzically, his traitorous hand gently stroking her knuckles with his thumb. “Whatever you want. No one can stop you. I’m certain the Empire will give you enough coin to buy anything you please for Ulfric’s head-”

“No.” Idunn said emphatically, suddenly pulling her hand away from his. Tandreth’s palm burned from the absence. “All of the stories. All the heroes die. Ulfric was a hero, to the Stormcloaks. They never… They never…”

“Happily ever afters are boring.” Tandreth replied, anxiety building in his chest from this line of conversation. Ulfric’s death had rattled her, and he knew it was for more reasons than the man’s status as hero. This battle was beyond him, something scum like him had no hope of fighting. “And those are just stories, Idunn, they aren’t-”

“You said so yourself.” she interrupted. “Heroes don’t get happy endings. It’s a lie.”

It caused his cheeks to flush, bile to rise in his throat. Yes, he’d told her as much - told her in as few words as he could manage what happened to his mother, the Nerevarine. How he and his sister had as good as grown up on their own, never to have closure until he saw his mother’s ghost. How the last Dragonborn emperor had martyred himself, how the hero who’d brought him to the Imperial City scorned all glory and disappeared from history soon after. How all of Idunn’s efforts to do right were fruitless, how none would appreciate her and her name would disappear after she died trying to protect people who didn’t care for her - and now Tandreth saw the effects of his poisonous words. Self hatred flooded his system. Vile, venomous coward, who’d tried to drag her down with him.

“Idunn.” he whispered, and she winced at the sound of her own name from his lips. “I was saying whatever I could to dissuade you, then. It was cruel.”

“Was it false?” she questioned, words piercing something else in his chest. She looked him in the eye, her own, wide and green and so guileless, beseeching him for the truth.

Tandreth’s shoulders fell, staring up at her - at the aurora reflected in her eyes, unable to bring light to them. Honesty burned his tongue, but he offered it nonetheless. “No.”

Idunn took a deep breath and turned away from him. “I always knew it.” she murmured. “At the heart of it, all along. I’m going to succeed. Destiny, fate, the Divines - they’ll carry me that far. But after…” He watched her throat ripple as she swallowed. “... I’m not coming back from this.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I feel it.” Idunn shook her head. “In my bones. My heart. The air. It makes sense. This was my purpose, all along. I have no -” A pause and another wince, as she dared a glance back at him. Correcting herself, to a flutter in his lungs. “ - few friends. No family. I was destined to die before fate called on me. It was just a stay of execution. This is my purpose, what I’ve been chosen for, what I’ve been born for. There’s nothing after.”

A cold feeling pooled in his gut, and Tandreth felt the overwhelming urge to run at her words. To save himself. Idunn was convinced, and it was enough to convince him in turn. In his travels with her he’d seen things he’d never believe, proof of divinity, every odd defied. It was only a matter of time before her luck ran out. He’d seen it all happen before.

Yet beneath the cold an ember burned, fanned into a flame. No. He’d seen it before, but he wouldn’t let it happen again. He’d tried to persuade her out of destiny, thrashed and raged against it. He’d tried to run from it already. The conclusion he’d come to was one constant as the rising sun.

Whatever would come, he couldn’t leave her. Even if he had to watch her die.

No.

Could he change fate? Change a certain path?

Of course not. He was a child, tantruming against the inevitable. Instinctively wanting to smash what he could before running away, furious at his own powerlessness.

Yet if there was one thing he could change - one thing in his blighted life he could do again, it was to say something. He’d left his mother with bitter words.

Idunn stared out at the tundra in silence. Could he leave her with the same?

Tandreth’s tongue suddenly felt thick, a wave of heat flowing over his body as if a fever. Nausea twisted his stomach. Suddenly all words failed him - he’d never had trouble with them before, always had a quick remark, but now this was important, now this was perhaps the last calm they’d ever have.

“Maybe.” he admitted, forcing himself to face the truth of it all. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe these are the last weeks.” His body was betraying him, vision clouding with blasted tears, his voice wavering. He could still run - Azura, how he longed to - but Tandreth clutched the stone banister as if it could keep him from being ripped away from it. He’d lived centuries, but a couple dozen months had given him a light he’d long thought lost and the idea that it was going to be snuffed out again was too much to comprehend.

Idunn managed to look at him again, pain diffused with confusion on her part. She wasn’t used to seeing him like this, he was well aware - knew that the little wrinkle between her brow was one of concern. Knew everything, and tried not to think of how every scrap of knowledge of her might come to haunt him. “You don’t have to stay.” Her voice was tender as a kiss. “It’ll be safer.”

It was his turn to make a choked noise, and he tore his hands from the banister to settle on her biceps, so firm beneath his touch he nearly took comfort in it. Tandreth forced her to face him, to look him in the face. “No. Listen to me, Idunn. I’ve spent my life running. From everything. From living. Were this a few years ago I’d be happy to throw myself into the void alongside you - but I’ve met you now. In you I’ve seen that maybe this cursed plane is worth something after all, that I could be worth something. I want to live. I want to see what the future holds.” In spite of himself, he let his hands drift down her bicep, stroking her skin - took a step forward. “With you. Whatever time you have left. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Her lips fell open, and he almost cried at how it took her a few moments to process it all - dear, sweet, simple Idunn - and he knew she had when she couldn’t keep the water from spilling from her eyes, collecting on her lower lashes like dew. “But you - you hate it. Hate this.”

Tandreth laughed bitterly. “Yes. I hate fate, I hate the work of Divines and Daedra. I hate to be helpless. But not you. Not…” His right hand moved up to her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Not this. Never this.”

Uncertainty now overrode all of Idunn’s fear, calming the maelstrom in his own mind. “I won’t let you die on my account.”

“You’re not listening. I want to live.” Tandreth repeated. “And if… if you’re right, I’m going to try my damndest to make sure meeting you meant something. To make sure the world doesn’t forget. Not just the hero, but the woman.”

“The woman isn’t anything.” Idunn said with a watery smile. “You’ll bore them all to pieces.”

“I’ll fight Akatosh himself if I can keep the woman on this world with me for one moment longer.” Tandreth nearly shook her, desperate for her to understand him, choking on the words he needed to say, before the end, before she was another one of his ghosts.

The fear in her returned, but it was a different fear - one he knew in himself. The caution, the hesitance, the disbelief - she was worried she’d misheard him, that she’d read too much into things. She started to pull away from him - she’d decided what he was trying to tell her was all in her head, and in response he pulled her closer.

“I love you.” he whispered - feeling as if he’d doomed them both.

[honiebeememes]

                                   ‘  35MM  ’  SENTENCE PROMPTS  ( PART II )

                                                immaculate deception  -  finale

“Very meta.”

“Yeah, it’s just a caption.”

“Once a whore, now much more.”

“Ah, well.”

“And woe is me.”

“Why don’t you march out that door?”

“He ain’t no good to you.”

“Cause a bible verse says it won’t get worse, and she won’t be a fool.”

“If you walk out that door, his truck will be gunnin’ for you.”

“You got heart where you should’ve had brains.”

“Never dying, in a fate worse than death.”

“Your dog’s got out!”

“You got a life left to live.”

“You won’t forget nor forgive.”

“He thinks he used to love her.”

“Hell sent y’all back here for more, cause ain’t no one ever loved you!”

“I come to settle a score.”

“Why you hate me, and call me sin?”

“I am here.”

“Don’t shut me out.”

“Oh, don’t you hear my bang and shout?”

“Why must we tell them why?”

“Some require an explanation for why we make the things we make.”

“Why excuse each deviation?”

“Must we serve them prix fine art, or prove each part?”

“Think and you’ll miss it.”

“Look closely.”

“Why must we justify?”

“Let’s defy their forms and fixtures, not playing by their rules of thumb.”

“Make ‘em see where we’re coming from.”

“Who’s to say what it ought to be?”

“It is what it is, and it is what it’s got to be.”

“No love would dare to come near.”

“I bet you’re gentle.”

“Your lips like a sheath, and your tongue supplemental.”

“Now I’ll never escape.”

“He’s sucking me dry.”

“I love my mister and he loves my lovin’.”

“He fits in my family like I fit in his coven.”

“All of our friends say we look nearly like twins.”

“But it ain’t sentimental.”

“Fill me up with the love.”

“We may bring others inside, they come into our bed but they never escape.”

“We suck them all dry.”

“Just me and my mister for the rest of our lives.”

“He’s my mister forever, I, forever his wife.”

“Ain’t no doors get locked, ain’t no secrets get hid.”

“Cause I’d die for my mister.”

“And in truth, die I did.”

“She wouldn’t pull away like you did today.”

“Though you know how I like PDA.”

“You’re not to perfect, let me count the ways.”

“She could be perfect.”

“I’m gonna leave you.”

“I’m gonna leave you one of these days.”

“Conclusions I’ve been drawing about you.”

“She wouldn’t piss me off and not knock it off.”

“Like I told you this morning.”

“She’d like to hear me talk, she wouldn’t dare mock.”

“And oh, you think you’re so perfect.”

“So I’m leaving.”

“Just a few more days.”

“Am I getting bored?”

“Just wanna be adored?”

“Is it you? Is it me? Is it us?”

“I used to plan us out, used to have no doubt.”

“We’d be married and happy for life.”

“You were gonna be my wife.”

“We used to be perfect.”

“We should be perfect.”

“I just want to be perfect.”

“Don’t wanna leave you, don’t wanna lose you.”

“Bring us back to our better days.”

“I’m tired of hemming and hawing.”

“He was fucked up.”

“She was peerless.”

“So, of course they fell in love.”

“I cut you a piece of me.”

“And where I go, you will go too.”

“I am now a part of you.”

“I lost my life when I lost you.”

“You loved someone so much, that to lose them is to never recover.”

“You’ve given part of your being to them, and when they go you can never have it back.”

“You can never have it back.”

“Warming your hands in mine fills me with terror, that I will lose you, today, or tomorrow, in two years, or seventy.”

“When even the Earth has numbered days, I can give just one thing that stays.”

“From now on I’m half a soul.”

“Without you, I can’t be whole.”

“You are the start of me.”

“Down on your knees before the queen.”

“Life is a prom, I know you won’t disappoint me and Mom.”

“You taste the silver, yeah, you taste the crown.”

“You thirst for blood from the roses in hand.”

“Why be so calm?”

“There’s just no future for a princess of prom.”

“What a bitch.”

“I’m the Queen of Highschool land!”

“You idle boy.”

“It’s not right, it’s not wrong.”

“It’s what’s inside.”

[laufire]

I was tagged by @wisteria-lodge (ty!)

The Game: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag some authors!  

I went with the last 20 saved (well, edited) documents in my WIPs folder.

tagging: @elasticella @missbrunettebarbie @bebewrites @bombshellsandbluebells @punishandenslavesuckers @anghraine @toboldlywrite @sienarosso @grapecase and whoever else feels like giving it a go, just drop a mention so I see it ^-^

1. Castiel didn’t come to the decision easily; it shamed him to say that it had been, in no small part, a question of pride. (SPN. pre-s4 canon-divergence AU. The idea was inspired by this anon’s prompt).

2. A man in a trench coat had lurked on the corner of his eye all day; now, he waited for Dean outside his motel’s room. (SPN. This one was also inspired by an anon’s prompt (smh); it’s a Meg and Castiel role reversal AU, so now I have a whole ‘verse in my head with demon!Castiel and angel!Meg and how they’d fit in the story, meet the Winchesters, etc.).

3. Sometimes Bela indulged in the thought that the worst thing about Hell was the tedium, the rutine and repetition of the day to day; but then, the torture started. (SPN. My “Castiel gets Bela out of Hell” AU).

---

5. In the upcoming days, Silver will work hard to forget this truth: when he dared to reveal his true nature to the crew, it wasn’t because he sorely needed to replentish his energy after losing his leg; it was because he’d hoped they would kill him. (Black Sails. Vampire Silver AU).

6. John Murphy’s second life started when he woke up hungry and filthy in a half dug mass grave. (The 100. Vampire Memori AU -part of my Vamp/Blade T100 AU series. Indra is Blade btw xD).

7. The last thing Anna espected was to open her eyes again after Michael’s attack. (SPN. Self-indulgent Anna/Mary AU).

8. “I take it the interrogation didn’t go your way.” Castiel couldn’t stop himself from needling Dean, who glared at him while his hands still shook. (SPN. Endverse!Megstiel story).

---

10. Someone else might have thought they just woke up from a nightmare, but Silver knew his head had just hit against the rocks. (Black Sails. Max & Silver, Russian Doll inspired fusion, set in s1 of the show).

11. After talking with the rattled Ms. Bose, Jo could feel her luck in this hunt was finally changing. (SPN. Bela/Jo, s3 canon-divergence AU. Three guesses as to who is Ms. Bose).

12. Sam had put if off when Lucifer started raising; when he and Dean were on the plane; when Zachariah had them spilling their guts; in the hospital... but finally, he reunited a few seconds of calm to freak. The fuck. Out. (SPN. My Ruby’s Terror Twins series lmao -Ruby screams out she’s pregnant, shocks Sam and Dean enough she can escape with her knife. Then, a few months later...).

13. Ruby opened her eyes, and immediately knew two things: the slash in her stomach was healed, and she’d put her faith in the right deity. (SPN. Ruby Lives AU. Ideally, a rewrite, but that might be too ambitious xD. Of s5, sure).

---

16. What Moira first noticed about Akeri was the book he’d tried to hide beneath his clothes; the carved marks on his cheeks came second. (Black Sails. Maroon Queen x Mr. Scott -who I gave alternate names because I can’t write an entire fic about them and pretend they call each other that lol).

17. Alastair spoke to Dean in a tone that sat in between that of a lover and a proud father. (SPN. Alastair brings Bela for Dean to torture).

18. The letters -all four of them now- never came signed; for that matter, there was nothing specific or damning enough, no misstep hidden within them that he could have used, and so he stopped looking for those. (Black Sails. Rackham x Rogers Foe Yay post finale lol).

19. That very night Silver will curse himself for his naivete, for thinking you can escape from something while you plant roots on a place; but in truth, the day had started so well. (Black Sails. An attempt to explore certain ideas about Silver’s past that’s likely to go nowhere lol).

20. At the ten year mark Silver returned to land and found the wrong woman waiting for him on the beach. (Black Sails. A weird “Silver ends as the captain of the Flying Dutchman” canon-compliant AU).

Patterns: ig the most notable one is that I like to throw the reader in the middle of the action, especially in fic. Often I go back and elaborate on the context, but I like a cold open xD

Favourite: I’m very happy with them all (first lines matter to me), but I’m especially fond of 9 and 14 for Latoya and Eva’s dramatics; 5 with vampire!Silver (ouchie); and 13 for the irony xD

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

Small Time Witch (28)

The TVA or Time Variance Authority is an organization who monitors time lines and the multi-verse. Since you created a minor disturbance, Mobius was sent to set the timeline back on track. Their methods were harsh yet effective ranging from working for them for several hundred years to erasing you completely using the Retroactive Cannon. Mobius was not here to bring you in. In fact, you have now screwed things up so badly that he was charging you to correct your mistakes.

“I would love a drink. Thank you Y/N. May I call you Y/N?”

“You can start by telling me who you are.”

“Of course.” He drained his glass and set it down. You poured him another. “Mobius M. Mobius. I’m here representing the TVA. We monitor the multi-verse. You have made a mess of things and we want you to fix it.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

He sighed heavily letting his head fall back onto the chair. “Yes, you do. Wife of Loki, witch from Earth here to save her husband from his certain doom. Am I leaving anything out?”

“Nope. Sounds about right. So are you here to arrest me?”

“Arrest you? Heavens no. We want to recruit you. Contract employee. 1099 you at the end of the month for tax purposes. Listen, we love that you’re going after Thanos. You’ll save so many lives except one. Tony Stark. He has to die.”

The floor fell out from under you. The whole purpose of this was to save your friends. You hadn’t even wanted the Avengers to be involved.

“I can’t do that.”

“Here’s the thing, you have to. He has already created civilization destroying weapons. He was supposed to be snapped. Thanos went rogue from the plan.”

“Wait! You sent Thanos?!”

“No. We merely offered him something to kill Stark. Instead, he thought it would be more poetic to let him suffer for five years. And to top it off, he had a child. She’ll continue with his work creating the worst weapon yet. If you take him out now, there will be no Ultron. Sakovia will be safe.”

“But no Vision.”

“Wanda is young. She’ll meet someone else. Good for her though, her brother will still be alive! Good news for everyone. If you succeed, as a thank you, we will restore your husband’s memory. If you refuse, I’ll erase you from existence.”

You couldn’t hurt your friends. You wanted to say no but Mobius M. Mobius was a smooth talker and knew just how to play to your weaknesses. “Tony Stark didn’t have a problem attempting to kill you when he thought you were a threat. Didn’t he poison you? Am I getting that right?”

Your face heated at the memory. You didn’t answer. You both knew he was right. But Tony was also given incomplete and downright false information. “How can I trust what you’re telling me?”

“Have I been wrong about anything else? You don’t have to trust me. In fact, you shouldn’t be so trusting. Thanos already knows what you’re doing. He has spies everywhere. Even on Vanaheim and Asgard. I wouldn’t trust the man who was under Thanos’ thumb just days ago. He’s already betrayed you once. The chamber maid?”

You were heated. Fact was he was right. Loki wasn’t healed from the affects of the stone yet he already knew your plan. Thanos could have still been listening.

“As a sign of good faith, Princess, I present to you the power stone. The Nova Corps is entrusting you with it. You will save Xandar from certain doom. Fun fact, you can expel any of the stones at any time. That should be helpful when you meet with the Ancient One. Be careful with this stone. It bites.”

You cast a protective bubble around you. When you crushed the stone in your palm the pieces crawled under your skin to your core. Once again the light spilled from you holding you in suspension for several minutes then dropping you. You let down the barrier to Mobius clapping. “Three down, three to go. Here’s your plane ticket to Russia. The Maximoff twins already had their brush with the mind stone. You won’t be robbing them of anything. Oh and remember to bring yourself a buddy on Vormir. I’ll be waiting for your call.”

He left a card in the credenza and vanished. You called down to the desk to have more scotch sent up and to extend your stay. You also called up to Heimdall to let him know you do not wish for the princes to disturb you for the next few days.

——————————————————————

Loki awoke the next morning excited to hear of your experience with the reality stone. When he arrived to breakfast you weren’t there. In fact, no one had seen you since you left the previous morning. He didn’t see Thor either. Maybe you had not yet returned.

When Thor came strolling in alone around dinner time Loki was concerned. “Brother, I trust everything went to plan on Midgard.”

“It did! I was able to spend the night with Jane. I should thank your wife for that. Will she be joining us for dinner?”

Now Loki was panicked. “She didn’t return with you?”

“No. She sent Jane and I off. I left her with Erik Selvig and Darcy. She healed him by the way.”

Loki looked away ashamed. His concern for you outweighed his embarrassment. “I haven’t seen her all day.”

“Perhaps she’s still angry over the chamber maid.”

Loki’s face blanched. How on earth did you know about that? “Nothing happened really. Just a flirtation. Who told her?”

“Brother the young lady answered your bedroom door when Y/N went to say goodbye. She is not an idiot. She was able to figure it out.”

Loki was mortified. Old habits truly died hard. You could not blame him. He had only known you to be his wife for a week. You couldn’t really expect him to give up everything. He felt like a fool. You were risking life and limb on his behalf, on behalf of his people and this is how he treats you. A cad and a scoundrel indeed.

He had to see you to apologize. He would throw himself at your feet and vow never again to stray. Beg for you to forgive him. Plead for mercy. And if none of that worked he would buy you something pretty. Though, if he knew anything at all, he would bring you snacks.

Thor called for Heimdall. Unless you cloaked yourself he would be able to find you.

“I know why you are here. The Princess has demanded that she not be disturbed, and I quote, ‘by those two fools’. You see you are the fools.”

Loki sighed in exasperation. “I believe I’ve cracked it. Thank you, Heimdall. Do you know where she is?”

“Yes, your grace.”

Loki closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, “And where is she?”

“London. At a hotel where she wishes for quiet before she flies to Russia to retrieve another stone.”

“Brother, we should be with her. She already absorbed two stones....”

Heimdall cleared his throat, “Three. She took in the power stone last night.” He stopped speaking for a moment and Loki realized he was listening to you. “Please, Princess. I do not wish to repeat...yes, ma’am. The Princess says, again I quote, ‘I’m stronger than both of you. Leave me alone or it’s over for you bitches when I get back. Also leave Heimdall alone.’ Please forgive, your highnesses.” He twisted the sword and sent Thor and Loki back to Vanaheim.

Loki was furious. Fuck groveling. Loki wanted to march right into your hotel room and demand you apologize. How entirely rude of you to just pop off without a single care for him. And over what? A smack on the bottom of a nameless servant? How actually dare you treat him this way? You won’t see him? He is a prince and your husband. You don’t have the right to refuse his company.

Thor, on the other hand, was terrified. Leave it to Loki to pick a fight with the most powerful witch in the known universe. He thought it best not to antagonize the pissed off witch possessing the power of three infinity stones. He came up with a possible solution. He proposed Valkyrie accompany you to Russia just in case something happened. You were powerful enough to level Midgard. Best have someone who can keep you in check.

At first Valkyrie refused. It wasn’t her job to babysit the princess. When Thor promised she could use Midgardian weapons she was in. Heimdall refused to send her at first. Loki promised you probably wouldn’t kill him. Very reluctantly he complied. Little did Loki know, Hilde was just the girl to make you all better.

——————————————————————

Hilde knocked politely so she would not scare you. You were operating on a hair trigger as of late. She really didn’t want to die. To her surprise, when you saw her in the hall, you began to giggle uncontrollably. “They sent you to bring me back? Idiots.”

“Actually, they asked that I accompany you to Russia. Just in case.”

“Fun! First drinks though.”

After several shots of tequila and one failed margarita attempt, the two of you were pretty sloshed. It had been a really long time since she had this much fun. Equally as long since she allowed anyone to call her Hilde. Only her sisters called her that. You made her laugh with your drunken college stories. When you told her about your emo college boyfriend having a chronic twitch she damn near peed herself.

After polishing off some snacks from room service the two of you collapsed into bed together still giggling. You finally worked up the courage to tell her about your affair.

“You know, in the future, you and I are really close. Like super close.”

“How so?”

“Well I know you have that heart shaped birthmark on your left thigh and when I kiss it it makes you stupid. I also know you like being called daddy in bed.”

She belly laughed at the notion that you two were together. “Does Loki know?!”

“Nope.” You both lost it.

“Norns! Can I be the one who tells him?!”

“Future you asked that I take a picture of his face when he finds out. I’m glad you’ll get to see it in person.”

“Oh hi Prince Loki! In the future I bed your wife.” she mocked.

“Hilde. Would it be weird if I asked you to spoon me? It’s been a while since I shared a bed with someone who actually wants to be around me.” Without hesitation she pulled you close to her body and nuzzled your hair.

The next morning you left for Russia. Normally a whole team would be required to infiltrate a Hydra base. You didn’t really need the back up. Hilde watched your six while you dismantled their security system. You could feel the stone pulling you in its direction. No alarms sounded so you got to the stone and slipped it in your pocket. You heard shuffling from some corner of the room and pulled Hilde closer to you. Wanda’s magic illuminated the darkened room.

“Give back the stone and your friend lives.” Pietro had Hilde by the throat. She had her hand on the hilt of her sword but you singled her to wait.

“Wanda, I know you don’t know me but, in the future, we are great friends. Closer to sisters. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m going to free you. I know a place where you can go.”

“That’s funny. You must not really know my sister.”

“I can prove it, Wanda. Please?”

She was behind you now. When she placed her hands on the side of your temples she showed you your worst fears. All of your friends and family were dead at your feet. Your hands glowed with power. Your skin spattered with their blood. The stones had overpowered you. Where they ended and you began was unclear. You felt yourself sinking but not for long. You regained control and maneuvered to grab her.

You held her with little effort and showed her your friendship. She still didn’t trust you completely but she relaxed some and told Pietro to let Hilde go.

“How did you break free of my magic?”

“Because I’ve practiced with you. Studied your magic. We did it together. I can help you. Please.”

“You can take us out of here?”

“Yes. To a safe place in New York. We don’t have much time. I can take you there right now. No planes. I can open up a portal and we’re all there. What do you say?”

“Pietro? What do you think?”

“Anywhere is better than here.”

“Good. Take my hand.”

You jumped to Charles Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. If there was ever a safe space, it was here. The Professor greeted you all.

“Hello, Y/N. But you are not our Y/N. This much I can tell.”

“Do I look old?”

He laughed, “Nonsense. You look powerful. Come in. All of you. We can have some tea and Wanda and Pietro can show me their talents.”

The twins felt immediately at ease there. Ororo showed them around and helped them get settled. You introduced Hilde to the faculty. She insisted on staying by your side when it was time to take in the next stone.

You went to the medical unit with Jean and the professor. They hooked you up to some electrodes and put you in a padded fire proof space. While you did your thing, they waited far behind a glass.

Just as before the pieces of the jewel cut through your body. Light spills from the open wounds and you fall to the floor writhing in pain. “Don’t let it control you, Y/N. You are stronger than the stone!” The Professor calls out to you. Finally you are calm. All of the monitors attached to you are flashing and ringing. Xavier and Jean come in to examine you. They are extremely concerned. You raise your hand to heal yourself but he stops you.

“Y/N, you understand that every time you take in a stone you are irradiating yourself with gamma rays? You are doing irreversible damage to yourself. There is a reason mortals cannot wield all six of the stones. You have taken in four. I’m not sure you can survive two more.”

“I can. I have to, Professor.”

“Or what, Y/N?” Jean asked.

“Or the time police guys are going to erase me and Tony Stark’s kid will make a weapon capable of destroying planets. Please. I have to finish my mission.”

The Professor and Jean order you to rest for a few days while they figure out how to treat you. You sent Hilde back to Vanaheim to let everyone know you were ok and being cared for. You stayed in the medical ward and the Professor put you into a medically induced coma. He monitored your brain activity to ensure you wouldn’t be a danger to anyone in your unconscious state.

You dreamt in vivid colors. What Wanda put in your head, you couldn’t shake. The stones were possessive of you. They fed off of you draining away all that you were. Eventually you would become the power. Everything seemed to be more alive. Even in suspended animation your muscles ached. They were growing and changing just as every other cell in your body mutated. On the outside you remain unchanged save for your hair color. You kept hearing Mobius’ voice reminding you that you could expel the stones at any time. The stones made you feel bound to them. You would be nothing without them. Wandering around your psyche you fought them for control.

When Hank brought you out of your coma you took a breath and your lungs burned. You coughed and sputtered grabbing at the air for anything to hold. To connect with something. Your vision was too blurry to see who was on the other side of the hand who held yours. Wanda’s soft voice filled your ears, “Open your eyes, Y/N. We’re here.” You nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Hanks sharp toothed grin.

“There she is.” Hank said softly.

You pulled Wanda closer to you and embraced her. You were unsure if you could trust what you were seeing to be real. You fought a battle for control of your mind, your body, your energy, your perception. Four down and you didn’t know if you had the strength to take the last two.

Once everyone was satisfied with your recovery you asked for a meeting. You explained your journey and what Thanos planned to do. They would support you. For the next stone, you had to go back to Manhattan to meet with the Ancient One. You purposely saved the soul stone for last. You couldn’t comprehend whom you would even sacrifice. It had to be a sacrifice though. Someone you loved. Someone you cherished. You set it aside for now and headed to 177 A Bleeker.

[p-j-o-herewego]

Some headcanons for Percy's birthday

He's Latino and has dark green eyes.

He's a far better musician than he gives himself credit for.

Him, Nico, Thalia, Rachel, and Piper start a rock band called "Not Your Christ" for which Percy's the lead vocalist. They have a YouTube channel.

Percy's also a tattoo artist. He's good.

He loves playing with clothing and dressing in "women's" clothing.

He's openly bi and polyamorous (duh, I ship Perachabeth)

His playlist is made up of rock music spanning the decades, interspersed with songs Annabeth introduced him to.

His favorite song is Sweet Chil O' Mine by Guns 'n Roses.

He's 6'4"

His hair is very long and thick. He takes very good care of it.

He's actually kind of proud of his hair. He decided to grow it out some after Gabe's death, and realized he wanted it long.

Fredrick Chase was not impressed Percy introduced himself as Annabeth's boyfriend. Neither was Mr. Dare when he introduced himself as Rachel's boyfriend.

After BoO, he gave Nico a garbage bag full of old clothes and jewelry because, "You've been wearing a bloodstained Hawaiian shirt and bloodstained pants for three days. These don't fit me. Take them."

He's slowly and surely adopted Nico and Hazel as younger siblings.

He taught Hazel a trick for getting glitter nail polish to be darker.

He has the Statue of Liberty dressed like a zombie somewhere on his body. He doesn't regret the decision.

He got a blue cookie shaped as an anatomically correct heart on the upper part of the forearm without the SPQR tattoo.

Instead of wedding rings, when Rachel, Percy, and Annabeth got married they had an orange, purple, and pink fox (Annabeth), a blue and purple and black tiger (Percy), and a red, green, and purple snake (Rachel) all snuggling together tattooed on the outside of their left shoulders.

Percy's favorite movie is Into the Spider-Verse.

He doesn't much care for The Little Mermaid, is alright with Finding Nemo, and liked Moana. He prefers to watch non-water related Disney movies, however, because, no, he doesn't like the jokes. They get old.

He will not watch Aquaman for the same reason.

Sally is a legacy of Venus, which is why she has clear sight, and why Percy can speak Latin. It doesn't much affect them, the only thing they get from the godess specifically is that they're both particularly attractive people.

Anyway, Percy has a high tolerance for hot and cold. He knows when something is hot or cold, but neither particularly bother him unless you pretty much dump in lava or freeze him in a block of ice. He does have preferences, but generally speaking, he's That Guy walking around in a tee shirt while it's snowing.

He doesn't bother with oven mitts, because his hands don't burn, again unless you stick them in lava.

His favorite thing to do is tell people the truth about where he's been and what he's done with the most deadpan, sarcastic voice ever, and have you think, "That's a boldfaced lie."

When he, Rachel, and Annabeth have their first baby they name her Melodia Josephine. They think it's odd enough to belong in their house, but can be shortened or otherwise made to sound normal enough that she won't be the butt of jokes.

They name their second daughter Natalia Kairi after Annabeth's aunt.

They have twin boys. Ian Kester and Kyan Jeremiah.

His middle name is Alexander.

He didn't go to college. He graduated highschool and said, "Fuck it. I'm done with school. I'm applying for a job."

He taught all of his kids their first swear words. All separate incidents. All on accident.

He's a lean, mean, cooking machine. He'd never want to do it professionally, but in his own home? Pass him the cutting board, please.

Ik a lot of people say this, he takes showers to calm down (mood), and thought that that was a normal reaction to stress for the longest time.

He has a prosthetic leg.

And his left middle finger is bent at a weird angle from a freak accident with a door.