#just stand back and watch the magic happen

[accio-sriracha]

Chasing Stars

A slightly long snippet of an unpublished Jegulus wip.

CW: Very brief mentions of sexual abuse and a singular homophobic slur

Context: Regulus is forced to make dark magic deals on behalf of the Black family. Things get messy as James unknowingly follows him into the dangerous exchange.

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"Does your friend here have a name, Black?" Dominic demanded as he moved closer.

He walked in lengthy strides, like a wild animal waiting to pounce.

"James O'Malley." Regulus lied immediately.

"Slytherin?" He asked, looking Potter up and down and making a slow, predatory circle around them.

Regulus swallowed hard, attempting to keep his poise as he responded,

"Yes. Half-blood."

"Ooh, a halfblood." Dominic snickered.

Regulus heard a few of Dominic's followers laugh as well.

"Why don't we hear your friend speak?" Dominic drawled, his voice as daunting as ever.

He took another step forward, coming right into Potter's space,

"You wanna talk for us, O'Malley? Or are you just gonna keep following little Black around like his bitch?"

Regulus glanced back at him, watching the challenge sparking behind Potter's eyes, the slight tip of his chin.

Potter's pride was something Regulus knew would be a wild card.

Please don't fall for it, Potter. He silently begged.

Regulus kept his face even, Potter's eyes met his own again, deep brown crashing into metallic silver.

By some miracle Regulus couldn't thank enough, Potter remained silent.

"Bitch, it is." Dominic taunted, "Got yourself a bodyguard then, Black?"

He leaned in and took Potter's jaw in his hand, tilting his face to look up at him.

Regulus could tell the force of his grip had to be painful, but Potter didn't so much as flinch, meeting his cold stare with an expression that could have been cut from stone.

Dominic laughed, "Yes, he's a keeper. Big and strong but... not too bright, eh?"

He patted Potter's cheek twice and let him go, moving back to stand with the others again.

He heard Potter let out a slow, angry breath when there was a good distance between them.

"I want your end of the deal done by next week, Black. If you don't follow through, you know what's gonna happen to you." Dominic spoke only to Regulus now, ignoring the boy behind him.

Regulus nodded once, "I'm aware. It will be done."

Dominic smiled that horrible, sadistic smile,

"Good. Make sure to tell your brother I said hello. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear from me."

Regulus held back the instinct to flinch at his words. He remembered the look in Sirius' eyes when he came back from his last meeting with Dominic.

That was the first time Regulus had ever seen Sirius cry, even after all the years of abuse they'd suffered, nobody had ever broken Sirius the way Dominic did that night.

"We're no longer speaking." Regulus answered automatically, pretending to be unaffected, "He was disowned from the family over a year ago."

Dominic knew that, Regulus was sure of it. Everyone had heard of Sirius' estrangement to the family. He was only testing Regulus, seeing how far he could push until he broke Regulus too.

It took nearly five years for Sirius to give in to Dominic's pressure.

Regulus had never met anyone as strong as his brother, he doubted he ever would.

Dominic laughed, bringing Regulus' thoughts back to the exchange at hand,

"That's right. Bit of a faggot, wasn't he? Hmm... it's such a shame good blood was waisted on someone so pathetic. I'm telling you, I'm pretty sure he enjoyed having my friends inside him when he was being punished for a late delivery."

Potter reacted then, his wand in his hand before Regulus could manage to stop him.

A spell was shot in their direction the very same moment.

Those were always the rules: if they saw a wand drawn they would curse first and ask questions later.

Regulus immediately shoved Potter to the ground, knowing these guys wouldn't stop at stunning the way Potter would.

Regulus' shoulders heaved, standing protectively in front of Potter with his own wand drawn,

"Fuck, Potter." He hissed under his breath.

He'd never wanted to be at the other end of their torturous spells.

"Potter?" Dominic's eyes went wide, "Have you lied to me about your guest, Black?"

"We aren't looking for any trouble." Regulus replied instead, though he couldn't bring himself to put his wand down, not with their hungry eyes locked onto the boy behind him, itching for a target.

"You say that, and yet here you stand, pointing your wand at your oldest friend."

Dominic pretended to be offended, but Regulus knew he didn't care. There would always be someone to deliver, it didn't matter how much he tortured them, someone would always take their place.

"Dominic, please, just let him go. I will answer for it. He doesn't know anything." Regulus found himself resorting to pleading.

Regulus never begged, not even when he was beat an inch from his life as a child, he was always the type to stand there and take it silently.

But this was Potter.

Regulus was responsible for whatever happened to him now, he couldn't be the reason Potter was hurt, not when he knew he could do something about it.

He wondered when his feelings had changed to this, merely an hour ago he wouldn't have noticed if Potter dropped off the face of the earth aside from the Gryffindor team lacking their quidditch captain.

Regulus couldn't remember exchanging a single word in the past six years they'd passed each other in the halls.

Yet here he was, putting his life on the line for the boy he barely knew.

Because if he did know anything, it was that Potter was far too good to deserve this.

Dominic's voice snapped Regulus' attention back to his face,

"Ahh, but he brought himself into this, didn't he, Black? I feel a man who makes his own choices should face his own consequences."

Before Regulus could react there was a surge of light and a scream from behind him.

Regulus dropped to the ground, hovering over Potter, making sure he was still breathing.

"Enough!" Regulus shouted, his voice sounded desperate to his own ears, "We'll go! I'll have it to you by next week. You have my word."

Regulus would do anything, anything to get Potter away from here.

Potter wasn't going to die today.

Regulus would save him if it was the last thing he ever did.

"Look who's the brave Black brother now." Dominic cooed, reaching out and tilting Regulus' chin up, the same way he'd done with Potter, the same way he'd probably done with Sirius, "That's a curse I made myself. It should end in a few hours. Let this be a reminder to never betray me again."

A blinding flash of pain against his jaw made him fall to the ground, collapsing next to Potter.

It occurred to him a moment later Dominic had actually punched him.

It was rare to see a pureblood wizard strike without a wand.

But Dominic was no ordinary wizard.

"Pitiful. What a waste of good blood." Dominic repeated, motioning for his friends to leave.

Regulus sat up when they were alone again, leaning over Potter,

"Potter, fuck, fuck I'm so sorry. Can you hear me?"

Potter was shaking violently, his eyes glazed over and his lips forming around silent words.

Tears fell from his eyes and sweat matted his hair to his forehead, the sight was one of the scariest things Regulus had ever seen.

"Okay. Come on, I'll get you safe." Regulus managed to get Potter onto his back, carrying him down the worn path to the castle. Potter clung to him the entire way.

Regulus caught the words 'Please' and 'No' a few times in between the heart-wrenching sobs.

He made it to the Gryffindor tower, facing the portrait he knew to be the door to the common room,

"I need to get inside." He told her.

The lady in the portrait yawned and stretched,

"Password?" She asked sleepily.

Regulus groaned, "I don't know the password, he's in trouble, we need to get through. It's an emergency!"

She shrugged, "No password, no entry."

Regulus cursed, setting Potter down on the ground and resting him against the wall.

He knelt down in front of him, pulling their faces close,

"Potter. Potter, look at me." He whispered, "I need the password to the Gryffindor common room."

Potter's eyes were still unfocused, the shaking had gotten worse. The silent words turned to quiet whimpering, he looked so terrified.

"Potter, please, try to focus okay? Try to focus for me. I need the password."

He didn't reply, his head thrashing from side to side as his reactions to whatever he was seeing got more violent.

"Fuck." Regulus pulled out his wand, cursing the world for making him need to use this spell again.

It was a spell he and Sirius had created when they were kids, in case something happened to one of them.

"Sirius." Regulus tried to keep his voice from shaking, his eyes never leaving Potter's, "Sirius, I need you, please."

He heard Remus Lupin's tired voice emitting from his wand and realised they were sleeping together.

He didn't have time to process it, holding Potter to his chest when his tears starting again,

"It's okay, I got you." Regulus murmured against his hair, stroking Potter's back in a way he hoped was soothing.

He wasn't even sure Potter knew where he was.

Lupin mumbled something again, something that ended in him using the word 'Darling'.

"Moons? What is it?" Sirius came through next.

Regulus felt his heart lurch at the sound of his voice. He missed his brother so much it hurt most days.

This was not how he was hoping to reunite with him.

"There's something happening with your wand, love, I don't know."

"What?" Sirius' groggy voice grew irritated, "What about my wand?"

"Sirius, it's me." Regulus spoke again, this time his voice really did shake.

Potter's arms were wrapped around him now, his head buried into his shoulder while he sobbed, shaking harder than ever.

"I- I need help." Regulus sounded like a child again, begging for his big brother to come and rescue him.

"Reggie?" Sirius immediatley sounded awake. There was shuffling, then his voice grew clearer, "Are you- Are you okay? What happened? Where are you?"

Regulus wanted to sigh in relief. He knew Sirius would come if he used the spell, no matter how much time had passed between them.

Regulus didn't have time to explain,

"I need you to open the door to the Gryffindor common room. It's Potter, he's-" He broke off, shaking his head even though he knew they couldn't see him.

"James?"

Regulus heard quick movements, curtains being thrown open.

"Shit, Remus. It's Prongs-"

Regulus didn't have time for them to hash it out over the call,

"Outside the common room. Please just hurry."

Regulus disconnected the link between them as Potter's shaking got worse again. He began to thrash in Regulus' arms,

"Don't leave, Regulus. Please, don't leave me."

Regulus nodded and held him tighter, "I won't Potter, I won't. I'm right here, I promise. I'm not going anywhere."

Something had snapped inside of Regulus, like a wire strung too tight.

And he knew it in that moment, he wouldn't- couldn't- leave him. Not ever.

The portrait swung open suddenly, Sirius rushing out of it with his wand raised, his eyes searching for danger.

He found Regulus holding Potter on the ground beside the door.

Lupin stepped out too, taking in the sight with shock.

"Prongs?" Sirius' voice was a mixture of terror and confusion.

Regulus looked up at them,

"Fuck, Sirius I'm so sorry. I tried to protect him, I-"

His sentence trailed off as Potter's thrashing started again, Regulus tried to hold him steady.

"Regulus!" Potter shouted, "No, please!"

"I got you. I'm here, I'm here." He whispered, trying to keep him from hitting his head on the wall, "It's okay. It's okay. I'm right here."

"What the fuck happened to him?" Sirius asked, watching in horror.

Regulus was crying now too, his voice coming out in a sob as he clutched onto Potter,

"He was hit with something. I- I don't know, some kind of curse. Dominic-"

"Dominic?" Sirius was furious instantly, his eyes never left James, like he was afraid to look directly at Regulus, "What the fuck was James doing near Dominic?"

"I don't know." Regulus repeated, trying to keep his voice low to not startle Potter, who was clinging to him like his world depended on it. Maybe in his eyes it did.

Regulus sniffed, "He followed me out while I was doing a run for father. I didn't know what to do. Dominic showed up before I could convince Potter to leave."

"Regulus-" James' broken sob was muffled into his chest.

Regulus turned his attention back to Potter, the protectivness he felt from the moment Regulus realised he was standing on that trail coursing through him.

Regulus was wrong to think he would never notice Potter's disappearance from the world.

He always noticed Potter. He knew it had been Potter following him on the trail by the sound of his footsteps alone.

He could recognise Potter's laugh out of a hundred others. He could tell exactly what Potter was thinking from just one look at his eyes.

Regulus had always noticed Potter, always gravitating towards him in one way or another.

It had just never meant anything until now.

Now? Now he meant everything.

Regulus held onto him, trying to get the shaking to stop,

"You'll be okay." He whispered.

He didn't know if it was for Potter's benefit or his own.

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( @bradleysass I'm so sorry, I swear the fic has a happy ending)

[slytherin-pen]

Love Worth Waiting For

pairing: Lucien x Nesta

word count: 1.4k

a/n: trying my best to crank fics out today so that i can catch up 😫 written for day 3 of @sjmromanceweek “first i love you”

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

Lucien had been planning this for weeks.

Nesta didn’t know it, of course. She would have rolled her eyes and told him to stop wasting his time, but Lucien was nothing if not persistent. If he wanted something, he made sure it happened. And today, he wanted Nesta to be happy.

So, he stole two of Tamlin’s finest horses—thanking the Mother that their relationship was on the mends—packed a picnic, and convinced Nesta to leave the house by promising her good food and a peaceful afternoon.

He hadn’t mentioned the horseback riding part.

“You tricked me,” Nesta accused as she eyed the dappled mare standing beside him.

Lucien smirked. “I prefer the term persuaded.”

Nesta folded her arms. “It’s been too long since I last rode as a child. I’ll fall.”

“Then it’s about time you refreshed your memory.” He offered her the reins. “She’s gentle, I promise.”

Nesta glanced at the horse, then back at him. “If I fall and break my neck, I’m haunting you.”

Lucien laughed, warm and unbothered. “Noted.”

To his surprise, Nesta didn’t argue further. She let him help her into the saddle, stiff at first but adjusted quickly. He mounted his own stallion and led them down the trail into the forest, the scent of pine and earth thick in the warm summer air.

At first, Nesta was tense, gripping the reins so tightly her knuckles were white, her back too rigid. But as they rode, Lucien watched her relax, her sharp edges softening in the golden afternoon light.

By the time they reached the clearing he’d chosen, she was smiling.

Not one of those fleeting smirks, a rare real, soft smile.

And that alone made every second of fretting over the day worth it.

Lucien helped her off of her horse before returning to his to retrieve the picnic basket he attached to the saddle.

The picnic was simple—fresh bread, cheese, honey, and fruit. He laid out a checkered blanket beneath a towering oak tree, placing the basket in the middle. The horses grazed lazily nearby as he and Nesta settled themselves.

While they ate they talked about Lucien possibly becoming Spring emissary again, how Nesta’s magic training has been going, and how Jurian has been teaching Nesta how to wield a sword while Lucien is away helping Tamlin organize the wreckage that is his office.

“Do you regret it?” Nesta asked, covering her mouth as she bit into a chunk of watermelon.

Lucien looked up from his plate and cocked his head. “Regret what?”

“Resigning from being the Night Court’s emissary. Now you’re back where you started, and I just wonder if you would have followed the same path if you had not chosen to leave for me.”

“I am far from where I started,” Lucien smiled. “The issues with Tamlin are his own doing, and while I was in a haste to follow Feyre, I had my reasons to leave beyond being mad at him.”

“What were they?”

“You.”

Nesta nearly choked on her cheese cube and Lucien patted her on the back. “Me?” she blurted, the shock evident in her voice.

Lucien chuckled. “Yes, you. I never lied about not feeling like I have a claim to you just because we are mates, but when I caught Feyre fleeing for the Night Court I knew it was my only chance. Mates are precious, and while I knew I wasn’t necessarily ready to dive into all that it entailed, I also knew it was the only way I’d ever get to see you again. The Night Court has always had a rocky relationship with—well, everyone—and they likely wouldn’t have allowed me access to Velaris at any other time. I would have never had the pleasure of properly meeting you. So, no, Nesta Archeron. I don’t regret a single thing.”

Nesta opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “You went through all of that—escaping the Spring Court, running from your brothers trying to murder you again, and suffered through the way Rhysand and Feyre treated you—for me?”

Lucien scoffed. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

Nesta’s gray eyes narrowed, skepticism clear across her face. “Because I am,” she said flatly. “No one has ever done something like that for me.”

“Well,” Lucien tucked a strand of hair behind her pointed ear, “you should start getting used to it and stop being so suspicious, because you are worth that and so much more.”

Nesta turned her head, a flush creeping up her cheeks, but when she looked back at him, her eyes burned with a silent challenge. One that all but said, I’ll believe it when I see it.

Lucien met her gaze with a smirk, his eyes accepting the challenge, silently conveying he was more than ready to prove her wrong.

After a while, the gentle stream of the river called to him.

Lucien stood, brushing crumbs off his tunic. “Come on.”

Nesta barely looked up from she had been fidgeting with blades of grass. “Where to?”

“The river.”

She arched a brow. “You have some grand plan for that too?”

Lucien grinned. “I’m going to teach you how to catch a fish with your bare hands.”

Now she looked at him. Blinked once. Then snorted. “You’re joking.”

“Dead serious.”

Nesta sighed, stood up, and brushed off her dress. “Fine. But if this is another trick, I’m pushing you under.”

He laughed and led her down the small slope to the water’s edge. The river was shallow, clear enough to see the smooth stones lining the bottom, the occasional glint of silver as fish darted through the current.

Lucien stepped into the water without hesitation, boots and all.

Nesta hesitated. Then, to his utter delight, she kicked off her shoes and hiked up the skirt of her dress before stepping in.

“Alright then. Show me,” she demanded.

Lucien didn’t bother hiding his grin.

He showed her how to move slowly, to keep her shadow from scaring the fish away, to strike fast when she saw the right moment.

Nesta tried. She failed. Then she failed again.

The third time, she lunged so aggressively that she nearly fell in, cursing as the fish swam away.

“Slippery bastards,” she growled, glaring at the water as if it had personally insulted her.

Lucien threw his head back and laughed, a full, joyous sound.

Nesta scowled at him, water dripping from her elbows down to her delicate fingers. “Stop laughing at me.”

But before he could respond, she turned and stomped up the riverbank, her bare feet leaving damp prints in the dirt.

Lucien, still chuckling, followed her out.

At odds with the regal way Nesta usually carried herself, she plopped down on the blanket, flipping open the book to where she left off while Lucien simply laid back, hands behind his head, soaking in the warmth of the sun.

The scent of wildflowers and river mist lingered in the air, the world quiet except for the distant hum of crickets, the occasional rustle of wind through the trees, and Nesta turning the pages in her book.

Then there were fingers in his hair.

Lucien almost flinched at the unexpected touch, but Nesta didn’t stop.

Her hand moved slowly, rhythmically, stroking through his red strands, her nails barely grazing his scalp.

Lucien swallowed hard, keeping his eyes shut.

She had no idea what she was doing to him.

Or maybe she did. Maybe she knew exactly what kind of power she wielded over him with the simplest of touches.

For a long while, neither of them spoke.

The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in soft pinks and deep purples.

Lucien, lying there with Nesta beside him, with her hand in his hair, felt something settle deep in his chest.

And before he could stop himself—before he could second-guess or worry—he whispered, to the universe, to her, “I love you.”

The words disappeared into the air, barely more than a breath.

But Nesta heard.

Her fingers stilled.

Lucien didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t move a muscle.

Not for the first time in his life, he was terrified.

Then, after a heartbeat, her hand started moving again. Soft, slow, deliberate.

She didn’t say anything. But she didn’t pull away.

Lucien sighed, letting himself relax under her touch. He didn’t need her to say it back or feel the same way—not yet, maybe not ever. He just wanted her to know. To know that in this vast, unforgiving world, someone stood by her side, ready to catch her if she fell. That someone saw her for who she truly was and loved her. That was all that mattered.

taglist (comment to join): @tele86

[legalmente-loca]

They Were Real

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: You sacrificed your life for humanity twice. Days later you find yourself in an unknown room and with your memory lost. You must not overlook any details since it could be a lie. The most important thing that occupies the center of your head is to discover who he is... Who is that man named Dean Winchester.

They Were Real Masterlist

Word Count: 3,074

Tags/Warnings: fainting, memory or not?

Part 1: Memories Created

“This is too much information for me.” You commented as you stretched in the chair.

“I'm sorry, it must be hard not to remember anything.” Said the one named Sammy.

“Well, if no one reminds you it's not so bad.”

“Let me check you?” Castiel uttered as he stood up and walked towards you.

He tried to touch your forehead with two fingers, but as a reflex you moved away. The room fell into an awkward silence.

“I just... I want to see how much you've healed.”

You looked at Charlie for confirmation and she nodded her head. You sighed and sat back in the seat. Castiel's hands were cold, like a dead man's. You had felt the skin of a dead man before.

“You're healing well.” He said as he focused his gaze on you, his eyes half-closed and shining blue under the light.

“How could it be that I died and then resurrected to... Die again?” You asked in a confused tone.

According to what they had told you, you had died a while ago while stopping the apocalypse and then, as if by magic, you revived. And now, having died fighting Lucifer and managing to kill him, you had met death again, only to be revived once more. Castiel swore that wasn't heaven's work, so you supposed you should believe him.

“That's something no one can find the answer to yet.” Bobby said. “I'm sorry, kid.”

“I don't even understand how that happened. I mean… Why sacrifice myself twice?”

“‘Cause you’re human.” Sam replied. “Therefore, you have a heart.”

“I have it to live, but I don't remember using it to feel.” You sighed.

That was the truth. After your father died, your life had become one of pure survival, always thinking about yourself, never about those around you. That is until you met Charlie, just a girl like you.

Dean, meanwhile, watched you from the other side of the table, his jaw tense hearing you talk that way and his gaze penetrating.

Castiel walked away and you returned your attention to the projection of images. You continued looking at the photos. It was strange to see you there and not remember anything from those days. But you think the strangest thing was seeing you happy.

You moved on to the next photo where you were with Dean. You were laughing while he looked at you in a way... Unknown to you.

“Can you remember anything from that day?” Bobby asked when he noticed that you had left that photograph.

“No.” You denied.

You glanced at Dean and he looked away. There was something this photograph was hiding.

“Yes, of course.” Crowley said with amusement. If it were up to you you would have already stabbed him, but it seemed like he was friendly. According to what they told you.

You shook your head and moved on to the next one. You looked at a blonde man, blue eyes. It was not one of those who was there.

“Who is he?” You asked as you pointed to the photograph projected on the wall.

They exchanged glances with each other, emptiness in them.

“You want me to remember everything, but you hide things from me?” You asked with annoyance.

“He's…” Bobby sighed. “It's your…”

“He's my what?”

“He is your ex-husband.”

You were perplexed by that revelation. That was what it radiated.

Love... Or at least that's what you thought.

You looked at Charlie and she confirmed it with her look. You ran a hand over your face, realizing that too much had happened in all these years. Things you never thought you would have.

The bunker door was heard.

“Sister, we called someone.” Charlie said, standing up.

“¿Whom?”

“To your ex-husband.”

Dean's fist clenched.

“Did you warn him?”

“I told John that she was recovered.”

“Who’s John?” You asked.

“John Smith, little sister. She pointed to the photograph. “Your man of steel. Come.”

Charlie held your hand and pulled you along. Bobby was already in charge of opening the door.

“What are you hiding from me?”

"What are you taking about? I don’t hide anything.” Shee laughed nervously.

“Charlie, I know you.”

She sighed and stopped.

“Okay, but don't be mad at me for hiding it from you until now.” He took a deep breath. “You have two daughters, little sister.”

She kept walking, and if she wasn't holding your hand, you wouldn't have followed her. Everything was happening too fast. The information about your life that had been developing for years… You were discovering it in less than a day.

“It's them.” Bobby said as he opened the door, surprise in his voice.

“Them?” You looked at Charlie and she pointed to a man and two girls of different ages who were covered by Bobby's body. “Easy, girl.” She rested a hand on your shoulder. “You know you have Hermione Granger with you.”

You rolled your eyes and nodded your head. Bobby stepped aside and those unknown people entered, going down the stairs. You approached them.

“John?” You asked doubtfully.

He smiled at you. He had a nice smile, white teeth and his eyes became small with the action.

“Mommy!” One of the girls exclaimed.

"You’re fine!"

John let go of both girls' hands when he noticed that they wanted to get closer to you. They hugged your legs and you looked at Charlie. She smiled at you and walked over to John. You kneel so you can hug them better.

“I'm glad you're okay again, mommy.”

“Yeah. Things haven’t been the same without you.”

“But I feel better now… Girls.”

It felt awkward and humiliating not to remember their names. You had forgotten the names of your own daughters...

“How are you feeling, Chloe?” Sam asked as he stroked a little girl's head.

“Very well, uncle Sam. Better now that mommy recovered.”

“And you, Alex?” She asked the other girl.

“Fine, uncle Sam.”

You looked at Sam and thanked him with your eyes, having noticed what he had done. He rested a hand on your shoulder before approaching John.

Dean walked past you and Chloe walked up to him.

“Uncle Dean!”

“Hey, little one.” He picked her up and gave her a few spins in the air. “I haven't seen you here in a long time.”

Dean put her down and held her hand as he approached Alex.

“Don't even think that I have forgotten about you, sweetheart.” He extended his fist, which Alex collided with his own. “I have to go, would you take care of your mommy for me?”

Both girls nodded and Dean gave you a quick glance before placing him between Charlie and Sam. Even though they were whispering, you could see anger in all three of them.

“I called you because I thought you would come alone.” Charlie reproached him.

“You didn't tell me to do it.”

“Oh, sure, the little boy needs to be told everything.” Dean scoffed.

“She needs to rest.” Sam contributed. “She doesn’t need to know she have two daughters so quickly. We don't know what their reaction may be.”

“I didn't know, okay?”

Dean snorted as a smirk spread across his face.

“You never know anything. You didn’t even bother to come right away.”

“Charlie told me several minutes later and I had to pick up our daughters from school.” John defended himself.

“No, no, don't blame Charlie for your ineptitude.” Dean took a step forward. “If you had been here, maybe she wouldn't have attacked anyone.

“They just told me that she doesn't remember me either.” John took another step forward. “What would have been the difference between Sam and me?”

“In that, if we had to choose… You would be the least important.”

You noticed that things were going to get worse, so you apologized to the girls and approached them.

“What's going on?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“Everything is fine, little sister.”

“Really? Since when does ‘everything’s fine’ mean about to kill someone?” You pointed between John and Dean. “You should calm down, both of you.”

Dean shook his head and walked away, bumping his shoulder into yours. Your attention fell on John, who had been watching you this entire time.

“Hey, darlin’.” He smiled.

“Hi…”

“You look well. Healthy.”

“Thank you.”

You didn't know how to make a conversation with a man you knew, but with whom you had no memory.

“We will leave you two alone.” Sam commented before tugging on Charlie's arm.

“They told me you have memories from years ago.”

“The only ones.”

“I guess that doesn’t involve me.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It’s alright.” He shrugged, dismissing it. “It's not your fault.”

You took a deep breath and lowered your head. Suddenly, the room seemed to have gone completely silent. You looked up again to speak to John, but he couldn't be there anymore.

You looked everywhere, but there was not a single person and the entire room was dark. It didn't seem to be the same place. There were no walls and the floor seemed to have suffered a small flood.

You walked slowly, perhaps waiting for something to happen. It didn't seem like the case, until you noticed a light behind you. You turned your head and saw... You.

You curiously approached your other self and noticed that she was cleaning a gun.

“I know that that weapon has never gotten dirty.”

You turned around as you heard Dean's voice behind you.

Damn… This is a memory…

You didn't respond and continued with your work.

“Alright...”

He sat next to you and you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. He had a machete in his hands.

“I was going to give you the reward for that work we did, but I see that you don't feel like chatting.”

You sighed and stretched to put your gun on the table.

“A deal is a deal.” You said.

“And here is your part.”

He extended the machete to you and you grabbed it. You looked it up and down, examining it.

“May I ask why you wanted my machete of all things?”

“Only if I can ask you why you wanted my knife.”

“Touché.”

You remained silent, each one in its own world. Sometimes you watched him out of the corner of your eye. You had to admit that you were starting to like that man.

In one of those glances, he saw you watching him and smiled at you. You smiled back, knowing that if it had been anyone else, you would have looked away immediately.

Why was it different with him?

You opened your eyes, feeling dizzy. You were in a different room than the one at the beginning. It felt more… Yours.

You looked to your right and saw Dean reading a book. His concentrated gaze being slightly covered by his eyelashes.

His expressions seemed a little strange to you while he was reading it. He smiled for something fun, but sometimes he did it in a nostalgic way... But he always smiled. You looked at the cover: 'What you should know about psychics'.

You tried to sit up, making a few moans at the pain in your head. He then noticed that you had woken up and quickly placed the book on the dresser next to him.

“Charlie sent me to take care of you. I’ll let her know you woke up.”

He was about to head out when you got out of bed.

“It would be best if you stayed there.”

You ignored him and walked around the place, looking for the machete you saw in your… Memory?

“What are you doing?” He asked.

You knelt down to look under the bed.

“But what the hell are you looking for?”

“A machete.” You responded, still searching.

“A machete?” He repeated with confusion.

“Yeah.”

You stood up when you noticed it wasn't there. You started searching through the other furniture drawers.

“Will you rummage the entire room?”

“If necessary, yes.”

Suddenly, you stopped, remembering that the same person who handed you that machete is the same person who was behind you. You turned your head and looked at him.

“You know what I'm talking about. Where is it?”

He frowned in confusion.

“The machete.” You repeated as you approached him. “You gave it to me.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” He crossed his arms, muscles contracting beneath his shirt.

“It's a lie.”

“Look,” He said patiently. “Really, I don't know which machete you're referring to.”

“It was your machete. You gave it to me because of the deal we made.”

He stayed in place, his face surprised.

“Did you have a memory?”

“So it did happen…” You murmured, your tone hopeful.

He paced the room with his eyes on the floor while he seemed to think.

“No, it didn't happen.”

"What are you taking about?"

“I have never given you a machete.”

You stayed in place, going over his words.

'I have never given you a machete.'

You didn't understand. So, what did you see?

You felt yourself lose your balance, but he caught you before you fell.

“Here.”

He carried you over to the bed and helped you sit on it. He sat next to you, holding your hand and stroking your back.

“What exactly did you see?” He asked slowly.

You hesitated to tell him. What would he gain from that if it is a false memory?

“I saw…” You didn’t know where to start. “I saw myself on a sofa. And you…” You sorted the words before saying them. “You approached me.”

Dean listened to every word carefully.

“You gave me a machete.” You looked at him. “You said it was the reward for a deal we had made.”

He looked into your eyes without blinking. You think neither of them did.

“That happened… Right?”

He sighed and looked down.

“No.” He denied.

He let go of your hand and stood up.

“I’ll let Charlie know you’re awake.” He muttered, changing the subject as he left the room.

His attitude took you by surprise. Now he was distant with you.

You remembered the book that was on the dresser and turned your gaze to it. You stood closer and looked at it carefully, going over the title again.

'What you should know about psychics.'

Why would Dean be reading it? He wasn't someone who needed to know more about psychics. His work was already done by an expert in them.

You reached your hand towards the book, and as you were about to grab it, you heard Dean speak to you, causing you to jump.

“I almost forgot.”

He landed in front of you and grabbed the book. He was very close to you. He looked at you and you watched him curiously. His breathing became heavier and you could hear his heart beating faster. You brought your hand towards his chest carefully. You felt hypnotized.

What was… All this?

Suddenly he shook his head and looked away. You moved your hand away from him, returning to reality. He didn't say anything and you watched him leave.

This was all very confusing for you. Had the vision you had been a memory or had your mind played tricks on you? It felt too real to be fake. But then… Why did he deny it?

You walked barefoot to the door, ready to find your memories. You heard voices coming from the room and you looked out.

“What happened?” Sam asked.

“John says she seemed to freeze for a couple of seconds. After that, she fell, without any explanation.” Bobby clarified.

“Would that be a bad thing?” Crowley asked.

“I doubt a faint ever means anything good.”

“Good no…” Castiel commented. “Normal, maybe. She felt overwhelmed by so much information received.”

“What do we have to do?” Bobby asked.

“It would be best to let the memories come alone.”

“What if they never come?”

“She has temporary amnesia. They will come.”

“What if they don't come?” Sam repeated.

Castiel sighed, not knowing how to respond.

“Hey, why all those faces?” Crowley spoke. “We are talking about a hunter who almost managed to kill me on several occasions.” He adjusted his tie. “No one and nothing stops that woman, sadly. You of all people should know.” He pointed to Charlie.

“I guess.” The pointed one whispered.

“Dean,” Sam caught his attention. “Did she say something to you when she woke up?”

He snorted and looked at each person present before answering.

“Shee told me he had a vision before she fainted.”

Everyone straightened up at that confession.

“Why didn't you tell us before?”

“Didn't think it was important.”

“She could have recovered her first memory and you don't think it's important?”

“You can calm down about that, Hulk. It’s not a memory.” He whispered.

“What?”

“It's not a memory.” He repeated louder.

“What did she see?”

Dean sighed and readjusted himself in his seat, uncomfortable with so much insistence.

“She talked about a machete I gave her.”

"That's all?"

"That's how it is."

“And are you sure that never happened?”

“Oh, well, who knows, maybe I have amnesia too and don't remember my own memories.” He said sarcastically.

The room fell silent.

“Is that something bad?” Charlie asked Castiel.

“Maybe…”

“Oh, please.” Dean exclaimed. “Guys, it was nothing.”

“She fainted.”

“I thought we said it was because of stupid John.”

“Dean is right.” Castiel pointed out. “It doesn't have to mean something bad.”

“See it?”

“But we have to watch her.”

“Why?”

“Because maybe she is unintentionally creating false memories. She may feel confused by this and it could make her condition worse.”

“She's perfectly fine!” Dean yelled as he slammed the table and jumped up.

Everyone in the room was extremely surprised by that action. Dean looked at them all, realizing what he had done.

He cleared his throat.

“I'm sorry.”

He almost jogged towards the exit.

“It seems that ‘green eyes’ is a little anxious.” Crowley commented.

“We are all shocked by everything that is happening, Crowley.”

“But no one is like that.”

“It seems to affect him more than all of us, including John.”

“He'll get over it.” Charlie brushed it off as he approached your room.

You closed the door and took a few steps back.

You just wanted it all to end. You wanted your memories back. You wanted to understand everything that was happening...

Loca's notes: It seems like your own mind is playing with you. Or is it someone else? Tell me what you think.

Dean Winchester Series/Mini Series

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Masterlist

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[archivewriter1ont]

Echo and the Cadet Batch Chapter 16: How To Babysit Aboard a Warship Is Out!

(adorableness I want to squeeze them) art by @littletroggo

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58834273/chapters/149944141

(Ugh the insert-link feature is not working again)

Summary:

Time moves differently in the Negotiator's current time zone, so the 501st and the 212th are still trying to a) keep the cadets as much a secret as possible and b) manage to keep them safe aboard a warship. After fighting alongside them as adults and adjusting to their crazy, Rex hopes that settling the baby batchers down for dinner and bedtime will go smoothly. It does not.

SNEAK PEEK: ⬇️

“Crosshair, get that pencil out of your mouth,” Echo chided gently. “That’s why you have the toothpicks.”

Rex smothered a smirk as Crosshair shot a petulant frown at the cyborg but did as he was told. The small sniper plucked the eraser end of the pencil out of his mouth but didn’t replace it with a toothpick – he was far too busy concentrating on the sketchpad in front of him. 

The captain had been sitting cross-legged on the floor, content to observe what was going on around him, but now he leaned over and tried to get a better look at the drawing, suddenly intrigued. He had just gotten obliterated by Tech in a chess game – the little engineer had not known how to play until an hour ago, but apparently learned strategy quickly and was ruthless once he did – and he could still see Wrecker and Boomer showing Hunter an array of magic tricks, though he wasn’t sure if the tracker cadet was actually interested or just accommodating his brother’s excitement. But he hadn’t seen Crosshair budge from that spot for at least an hour. Ever since he had found the sketchpad and pencils while rummaging through his older counterpart’s pack, the white-haired cadet had been sprawled out on the floor, feet kicking methodically in the air, obsessed with whatever he was watching take form on the thin, cream-colored paper.

“What’re you doing, kiddo?” he asked. He was making a point to refer to the cadets by such names as often as possible, since he wouldn’t likely ever get to do so again once they were replaced by the adult batchers he knew and loved. 

Though whenever that switch happened, he was already planning to bring up the whole “sketching” thing to Crosshair. Apparently Echo had known of the sniper’s artistic streak but Rex had not, which made him think it would be the perfect thing to bring up when the snappy batcher wanted to ignore that the combined forces of the 501st and 212th had now seen him as a mostly-harmless little cadet.

At his question, Crosshair immediately looked up. His sharp eyes narrowed at the blonde clone, but unlike his older self, he didn’t immediately bite off a none of your business or the like. Instead he hesitated, the end of the pencil inching back toward his mouth as he weighed whether he should answer.

Finally, he spoke in a quiet, almost embarrassed voice. “Something.” He tilted the sketchpad further away from Rex and adjusted his position on the floor, nearly blocking the entire thing from view. 

Rex slid closer, now determined to see what something was. Crosshair snatched up the pad and held it to his chest, turning away and eyeing him like a suspicious cat. Rex could almost imagine the little sniper’s white hair standing on end like a kitten’s, too.

He smiled at the mental image. “What kind of something?” he probed, trying to sound casual. 

(Whoops my hand slipped and I added 2k more words than I meant to. The snuggles part I referred to yesterday is now in chapter 17. 😁)

TAGLIST: @leapingbadger, @badbatchposts, @kybercrystals94, @maybe-some-words, @moonsstarsandscience, @littletroggo, @spinoqueenwrites,

NPT bc I thought you might like it: @happydragon, @indigofyrebird

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! ❤️❤️

[umi-adxhira]

ᝰ.ᐟ SERENITY | 024

NOVEL: TWTPTFLOB

WARNINGS: Sword fighting RAAAAHHH

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I literally had no idea what to write for this chapter ask @orngbananaa 🫵

Also this is a slightly new format since I'm quirky like that 🤪

TAGLIST: @evaxmisu , @00hellohello00, @welpthisisboring, @hsrvl264, @flyingpansaurus

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The weight of the sword is almost unbearable, the tip dragging against the floor when you hesitate. You try to raise it again, hands trembling slightly, fingers stiff from gripping too tight. HOW does he even wield this thing like it’s weightless? This thing must be like 100 kilograms or something.

The room is in complete disarray - sheets shredded, walls scarred with wild swings. It was harder than you expected, controlling something so unwieldy. You’re just about to try another move when a voice cuts through your concentration.

“What are you doing?”

You freeze. Dion stands in the doorway of your shared bathroom, arms crossed, crimson eyes assessing the situation with unreadable intensity. You can tell he just came fresh from a mission, the slight scent of metal and earth clinging to him, his shirt slightly untucked from his belt. His hair, normally immaculate, not IMMACULATE… just… shiny, is tousled like he ran a hand through it one too many times. He steps forward, gaze flickering over your figure. His cloak hood falls slightly as you turn to face him, the oversized hood slipping down to partially obscure your vision. You reach up to fix it with one hand - and that’s your mistake.

The sword tips precariously, your balance shifting with it. You try to steady yourself, but the sheer weight of the weapon betrays you. It slips from your grasp, falling fast-

Dion moves before you can even process what’s happening. A blur of motion, then the distinct clink of metal against stone as his boot stops the blade’s descent, just before it meets your foot.

Silence stretches between you, thick and charged.

His hands, cold against your overheated skin, capture your own, cradling them gently. His fingers are long, firm but careful, tracing the raw redness of your palms. A flicker of concern crosses his face. His hands are a lot colder than I thought it’d be… considering how the rest of his body is warm.

“Why?” he asks, voice softer now, curiosity laced with something else.

You exhale, still catching your breath. “It’s the first time I’ve seen a sword fully unsheathed.”

His brows lift slightly, his grip on your hands not loosening. “Your world doesn’t use swords anymore.”

You nod, biting your lip. “People just fight with their hands. Or guns.” You glance at the weapon between you, silver catching the dim light. “I wanted to see what the hype was about.”

Dion hums thoughtfully, gaze shifting briefly to your ankle. The chain remains intact, metal gleaming cruelly. There are no scratch marks - no evidence of any escape attempts. His expression flickers with something unreadable before he meets your eyes again.

“You had a weapon. You could have tried.”

“I did.” You pause, shifting slightly under his scrutiny. “But not because I wanted to leave. I just…” You trail off, gripping his cloak tighter around you. “I wanted to see if anything would happen. It’s probably protected with some sort of magic or something,”

“It’s not,”

“Oh,”

Dion watches you for a long moment before he sighs, bending down to retrieve the sword. But instead of taking it away from you, he steps behind you, his warmth pressing against your back. Before you can question him, his hands slide over yours, coaxing your grip back onto the hilt.

The weight of the sword shifts, but this time, it doesn’t feel as impossible to hold.

“Like this,” he murmurs, his breath fanning against your ear. His stance molds against yours, guiding your arms into position. His fingers adjust your grip slightly before he moves, pulling you into a smooth, deliberate swing. The blade cuts through the air with a satisfying whoosh.

Oh.

Another swing, this time in a different direction. The control, the ease - it makes sense now. You straighten slightly, an excited “Oooohhh” escaping you as the movement clicks into place.

Dion chuckles behind you, the sound deep and amused. “See?”

You nod, determination igniting in your chest. You try to take control, pushing the sword forward with your own force - but his hands tighten over yours. Not harshly, but firm enough that your control is an illusion. The blade moves, but only with his guidance.

You whine in frustration. “Let me go,”

His chuckle turns into a full smirk, his lips brushing against your temple as he leans in slightly. His voice is lower now, teasing yet serious.

“I will never let you go.”

Your breath catches. The words, spoken so simply, send something dangerous and thrilling rushing through you. You try to ignore the way your heart pounds, but you can feel him - solid, unwavering, his hands, his presence, him.

And when he doesn’t pull away, you wonder if he can feel it too.

His breath lingers near your ear, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. He doesn’t move, his presence consuming, intoxicating. The sword is long forgotten between you as his hands remain over yours, his grip firm, protective.

You turn to glare at him, but in his eyes, you look cute. He stares at you emotionlessly, but you know he feels a lot for you. Determined, you jump up slightly and with all your force, slam both of your feet down on his, attempting not to hurt him, but to shock him enough so that when he moves, you can slip away.

You both stand there for a few moments, and you realize it didn’t work. He lets out a sigh before asking if that was your attempt at hurting him.

“Would you believe me if I said no?” you reply, mischief glinting in your eyes.

He sighs once more before pulling you even closer, his grip tightening around you. The air between you crackles, tension thick and palpable.

Then, after a few moments, he speaks, his voice steady but tinged with something deeper. “I’ll let you go once Cassis gets kidnapped.” His fingers brush against your wrist in a way that sends warmth seeping through your skin. “You have a future you’d like to set, and I’ll be there to ensure it happens.”

You inhale sharply, trying to process his words. Your heart hammers in your chest.

“But you have to realize,” he continues, his lips dangerously close to your ear, “you belong to me. In life and in death.”

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Ooooh, you know who died in the 1970s? HUSK.

That could have been a really sweet but mindblowing conversation over the bar one evening, as they're all unwinding from the hype of battle several hours back. No one feels ready to slip into bed yet, the place feels... too new, too big.

It's lovely but it's not yet... home.

And it feels like they need to be near people for just a bit longer. Make sure everyone's still alive and kicking, even if its for love/hate/if i can see you you're not doing evil nonsense reasons.

Angel mentions that the pentagram looks even prettier tonight, knowing they'd won... and laughs at the absurdity of finding something like that beautiful. The red that permeates everything was a nightmare mostly, and it doubled as the portal from Heaven.

Might as well admire the craftsmanship of a knife as it struck at your throat.

'The lack of stars can make things quite droll', Alastor agrees, absently. 'Intriguing that you can miss something as simple as moonlight.'

'Hmm, some nights Me'n'Molly - my twin- we'd make up stories about what was up there. Like, the moon must be huge and it just hung there all bright and shiny at night, and the stars winked at you like they had some fun secrets to share. Helped to make us feel like there was more than just... the Family. You know? Like no matter what happened to us there was a whole world out there to escape to."

In an uncharacteristic moment of sharing, Alastor adds, "Indeed, as a young child I... often needed the fleeting moonbeams to assist my way in the bayou, evading my-... hmmm, a family member who thought only of violence no matter the reason. It always seemed quite helpful in showing where not to tread..." and deepened the shadows one could stand in as someone blundered past."

Oh. Husk finds himself glancing down at the grinning shade on the floor, curling about Alastor's lower legs. That... explained a bit, actually. The former overlord glances at Alastor and realises that the Boss may not have even flagged just how much he'd given away with that statement. Ah, let him have it. Husk knew they all had skeletons in the closet, best not to go jiggling the handle.

Angel's hand hovered over Alastor's arm in some sort of sympathy, but didn't make contact. "Yeah, Smiles... my old man was a bastard like that too. Thats why me'n'Mols were always dreaming of escape... always wondering if there was some magical city under the sea, or deep in a rainforest, or up on the moon we could get to and hide in. Never worked out though."

"...is he down here?" Alastor asks, head tilting too sharply. The bartender's ear flicked, intrigued by the implied offer; hells, he'd help too, if Boss would allow it, didn't even need to go yanking Husk's chain, neither.

"He... yeah. That's how I wound up with Val in the first place. Ran into my fuckin' dad and needed rescue, some of Val's workers stepped in to help cause I was near a club he owned... and then, well, the moth got me." Angel grumbled bitterly. Husk took his empty glass and slid something new back. "Thanks Whiskers. You ever... you ever dream of being somewhere else?"

"Not the moon, no. Though there were a lotta kid's stories about it being made of cheese and all which sounded like a bad time for the lactose intolerant. But there were times I wished I could live somewhere else..." Husker replied, resting his forearms upon the bartop. "Though... all this talk reminds me of the day they launched old Apollo 11. I saw it on the television, everyone stopped that day, just to watch... all the adults in their office buildings and kids in their classrooms crowding the televisions. Those that had 'em, of course, others ran to shopfronts to See the big moment. And then of course, they televised the moment Neil Armstrong stepped onto the moon itself, which broke all previous ratings metrics. One small step for man and all that. One of the craziest things to witness... just didn't feel real."

He's snapped out of his reverie by the clear shock blasting across the room, and the sharp warble of confused radio burble from the boss.

"You're shitting me!" Angel gasped, all four hands on the bar as if bracing himself for the 'gotcha!' of a prank well sprung.

"…no, I don't believe Husker was one for imaginative lies." Alastor narrows his eyes, trying to process the idea of the moon that used to light his path through the bayou now bearing human footprints. "Exceptionally talented at cards, at chance and misdirection and reading people... but not one for elaborate tales of fantasy. "

"Hey, look, don't believe me if you want but... how did you not know, Legs? Don't you use the internet and all? And you, Al... didn't Vox ever mention it? I'm sure the bastard must've been one of the presenters 'round that time?" Husk replies in disbelief. How could they NOT know?

"Er, yeah... but it's not like I ever googled 'did someone put a human on the moon' at any point like, that never crossed my mind. Here we could, cause of the magic and shit, but there? Toasters were new. Radios and television had just gone mainstream! how the FUCK did they get someone up there?" Angel tugs at his own hair in shocked surprise, pupils blown from the revelation.

"And you simply can't trust anything those Vees allow on their systems, in anycase!" Alastor rallies, his hand comes up and aborts the movement quickly as Husk narrows his eyes. This would be the part where Al would twirl his cane, to make a point. His theatrical ass couldn't help himself sometimes... so where was it?

Before he can ask, Lucifer swoops past. Literally. Alighting by them all with a gust of oddly apple-scented wind.

"You talking about the moon? Hah, it's not the most exciting planet we put in this solar system, but I was proud of it. One of the first things Uriel ever made, and I gave them a hand because they were sooooooo nervous! The joy on their faces when it first caught the sunlight... er, I don't think humans can conceptualise of how it looked, they have about fourty-seven mouths, but they were smiling like a nebulae!" He beams, reminding them all accidentally how ancient and powerful he was.

There was a brief moment where several mortal minds attempted to imagine that, and got the stirrings of a sharp headache instead.

"Wait you made the MOON?" Husk asks, quirking an eyebrow. "The fuckin' MOON?!"

"Hold up, other planets? How many of 'em are there?" Angel interjects, mouth mildly agape. His father hadn't really cared for anything outside of the city, so the kids in the household unfortunately had a limited curriculum. "Dad... he burned the book we stole from the library, it was about space. Saw something about Mars and Mercury, and a big planet, but most of it was charcoal after he tossed it into the fireplace... all I know it started with a J. And there was a spot they think, like a big storm... saw it through one of those big lenses in the new science buildings at the local university. Always wanted to go see through it."

"Jupiter." Lucifer replies, his expression softening momentarily. He, also, loved learning... and had been denied by his father. "There's 9... technically there were ten but humans decided to be ridiculous and classify Pluto as a dwarf planet because it wasn't big enough by their definition." He automatically whirls on Alastor, and points menacingly. "DO NOT."

"Why I was only going to say that humanity, much like heavenly divininity, seem to discard and discount things as too small for note... when perhaps they should have changed the metric."

Lucifer frowns. "Hold on, that was too nice. Are you dying? Did you get a concussion?"

Alastor rolls his eyes. "Why, little majesty, I was simply saving us all from the inevitable 'size doesn't matter it's how you use it' reference our dear Angel here has spring-loaded on his tongue at all times. If you want to hear it, I'm sure he will oblige."

Angel, for his part, sinked lasciviously. "Y'know what else I got spring-loaded on this obliging tongue, majesty?"

Husk let his head drop to the bartop, incoherent mumbling escaped.

"Oh do cheer up Husker, " Alastor chides. "You chose to adore the arachnid, you deal with his ridiculousness and lewd affectations."

"Oooh, you want my lewd affectations aimed at you Deer Daddy?" Angel flutters his eyelids, and laughed as Alastor rolls his eyes right into radio dials and back again. "Yeah, yeah... ah, fuck... ya face is hilarious when I pull this. But... seriously Short King, can you... tell us a bit about space? If you got a minute? Don't have to be now."

Lucifer seems... taken aback. Just the merest hint of tears in his eyes, as if no one has ever asked him to share his knowledge, or something. Husk and Angel and Alastor, all used to reading people in their own ways, feel something akin to sympathy pang through them. One of them pointedly stabs the sensation like an errant pest, and pretends no such emotion ever occurred. Not for the little monarch, he had too many bones to pick with the former angel.

"Of course I can... if you don't mind if I get side tracked? I can ramble, and it annoys people sometimes..." the King shrinks into himself slightly. His wings curl inward, and the desire to provide comfort alights in many a long-dead heart.

Of all of them, it is Alastor who offers a response. "Whyever would that matter? Half the fun of sharing information is trapping the audience in place as you do so, your lowness. You literally have the power to make people listen, don't tell me you've not used it?"

It's more goading than motivational, but it works. There's a brief flicker of hellfire at those temples.

"Not everyone wants to force their opinion on people!"

"Again, whyever not? Which foolish creature told someone like you, an odd little ancient thing that I suspect could talk for decades without pause on a favoured topic, to be still and silent? And moreover, why on earth or any of the other planes... did you bother to listen?"

"I-... what? Seriously, did you get a concussion?"

Alastor laughed. "Husker here is a former overlord, little ruler, and I am a current one. When we want to say something, people are made to listen... and you, the actual Devil, king of Hell's 7 Rings and unfortunately the best line of defence we have against Heaven despite his duck obsession, are the one cringing back with chains of self-doubt? Even when asked to expound on a topic we are actively interested in?"

"...you are?" The spark is back, and there's a faint glow about him. Like you could see the angel he once was, it moved under the skin he now wore, the hardened facade. "Normally when I talk about fun stuff I can see people's epxressions go blank, sort of... fade out, like they're physically there but have mentally wandered away. I do that too, soemtimes... but that's because this form is so small. Cosmically, I mean. This body is like... trying to put the sun into a salt shaker, and expecting only little bits of power to escape, to offset the pressure."

"Is there anything that can help?" Angel asks, intrigued but compassionate. He feels things getting too sentimental and adds, with a flirty grin, "I'm always available to help expend some energy, ya Highness."

Husk thwaps him with his tail, and Angel laughs.

"That's... generous... but if I let any of my Self out like that, it'd be-... wait, do you know what a solar flare is? Because it would be like that. It's why I create things all the time, easiest way to expel the energy without hurting anyone."

"Ah, that explains the ducks, then. I assume the reason we aren't drowning in them all is because this is only the most recent iteration of your energy release?" Alastor asks, folding onto a barstool. Again, his hands twitch as if to toy with his cane, and Husk clocks it again as he slings a teatowel over his shoulder. The Sovereign overlord is frowning around his smile now, struck by a dour thought. "Actually, sire... I'm wondering something about said ducks."

"...the why of them? Because its simple, I just think they're fun." Lucifer shrugs, and his shoulders curl forwards again before the devil consciously pushes them back. Who had taught this all powerful creature such shame around his hobbies? Intriguing. Exploitable. Husk sent a pointed glare at the back of Boss's head, and one ear twitched.

"No, I was wondering if the power you imbued the ducks with could be... extracted, in any way? One or two or ten might not be enough to cause a threat to the general population, but if the energy in them could be harnessed, then perhaps someone could even one day amass enough to rival dear Charlotte." Alastor said, there was something in his gaze.

"Why, want it for yourself, bellhop?" Lucifer scowls at him, and Husk cringes, seeing the way those ears flicker. Whatever message was being conveyed had been returned to sender unread.

"No." Alastor ground out, and then clamed himself. "I am pointing out that it seems like that would be a glaring security breach in hell, if someone who was seeking power and had access to your little offcasts, could do so. They would pose a threat to possibly even yourself, but certainly Charlotte. Are you able to destroy the ducks or whatever you have created? Or would that cause magical backlash?"

Lucifer seemed to be picking something up. "I can destroy them. It's like... uh... haircuts? Once it leaves me, its benign and can be dissolved into atoms... is atoms what the humans are down to now? I think you might have found out about quarks... hah, the irony of dissolving my ducks into quarks..."

"Ah, a failsafe option then. Excellent." Alastor mutters, and Husk is really looking at the overlord then. What did this guy know?

"...is someone trying to do what you suggested?" Lucifer asked, looking back upon them all with eyes that bled red. It felt like a soundwave moving through you at a concert, like an xray that wriggled through each and every atom on the way past, as he turned it upon the gathered sinners. "...ah, well, if that is who you are referring to, then perhaps you are right to worry. I'm hoping this is a sick prank, because otherwise I'm going to be very angry... and Charlotte will be devastated."

"Surely you wouldn't tell her, sire?" Alastor throws back, and Husk can tell that the other is rattled at the revelation that the King had Seen what was hidden. "It would only hurt her. Something we're all actively attempting to avoid for now, especially in the wake of the lost snake fellow."

"Sir Pentious." Angel and Husk intoned, slightly angry at Alastor for forgetting his name.

"Ah, yes... Pentious. He's not forgettable, I just can never seem to hold onto his name, for some reason, and he was always insisting we'd fought dozens of times but... I simply don't recall anything outside the animosity at the hotel." Alastor waved off potential amnesia with an airy laugh as the studio audience chimed in to add body.

"Wait, you actually did fight him, with me, once." Husk frowned. "You and Vox were still partners, before the moth... Pentious was testing out that giant mech suit thing of his, and he knocked out one of your broadcast towers. I thought you were gonna eat him... but you just kind of toyed with him for a bit until the robot part was scrap metal and had me drop him home."

Alastor's eyes flicker with static, and a grating kssshhhtttz of static filled the air before a radio dial clicking off sounded. "Why, no, I genuinely don't recall! Hah!" He turns back to the King. "Now, little majesty, would you mind telling our associate Angel about the stars? And if Husker and I should just so happen to listen in, why, that should be a bonus, hmmm?"

Lucifer blinked. "Er, what? I can do that... but we're going to talk about that later."

Whirling around, Lucifer launched himself up to the ceiling and snapped his fingers with a joyous laugh. Instantly the room dimmed, a blinding array of celestial bodies appeared in the air and gently rotated around Lucifer, who hung within the sun-like orb at the centre. In the distance, nebulae and distant planets could be glimpsed.

The barstools melted into a sofa with enough height to allow the long-legged Angel and Alastor to be seated comfortably. Husk was similarly provided seating, behind the bar, much to his amusement.

"This, is SOL, your sun and one of my favourite stars. I helped set it ablaze myself with my brother Michael!" Lucifer explained, hovering around it, listing off facts about the celestial body and explaining how it worked. Tiny solar flares arched outward and this delighted the former archangel as he spoke about them at length.

Eventually, he moved on to tiny Mercury, pulling the small orb from its orbit and bringing it down to them as the king extolled interesting fact about Gabriel's first attempt at a planet. "There WAS supposed to be water there, but... it got too hot, and it evaporated. Poor Gabe was crushed, because he'd had fun plans for it. Mars was also one of his, but Dad stepped in to give him some help forming it... there's some fun little surprises hidden on THAT planet for the humans to find!"

Lucifer switched out planets and even passed around Mars for them to hold. Angel startled to find red dust on his fingers, and Lucifer winked at him.

"Don't worry, there's no giant sinner fingerprints on the planet... it's just a wellmade enchantment! Oooh, speaking of well-made, did you know the humans have sent little robots to explore Mars? They call this little guy ROVER and he sings Happy Birthday to himself once a year!" Lucifer manifests what was lkely supposed to be a replica, but apparently seemed to be the Rover itself. "Ah... fuck. Hang on."

One sleep deprived tech at NASA had QUITE THE DAY reviewing footage from the Rover, and trying to work out if someone had hacked the feed to prank him as several inhuman creatures were seen staring in horrified fascination at the Rover for about 3 seconds before the feed returned to Mars' barren surfaces.

"Hah, let's not mention that little fuck-up to Heaven..." Lucifer laughed, nervously. "What was I saying? Oh yeah, so there was water on this planet too, and we put some-..."

Angel and Husk interjected with questions on occasion. Alastor really just seemed to be listening, though knowing the guy he could be listening to his own internal radio station and nodding at the right intervals. He did show some sign of delight when Lucifer got to Earth's moon... even sized it up to something around soccer ball shape, before passing it around.

Husk, unable to fight the desire in the back of his brain, put a tongue on the surface. He considered it. "...good news, not cheese."

Angel's snort was delightful.

"Hey! As my father once said to me, 'Please don't go licking celestial objects!'" Lucifer interjected, taking the moon back and making a show of theatrically wiping it off on his shirt. He tosses it at Alastor, "That goes double for you, Bambi."

"Sire, how can you show such little faith in me? As this is neither screaming, breathing nor bleeding, why would I ever be tempted to take a bite?" His expression was fantastically malicious, but husk roleld his eyes, talk about sticking to the bit. The deer did toy with the moon in his hands. "...what caused the crators?"

"Asteroids, mostly. Like, big chunks of rock that hurtle through space, because there's no gravity in space to help slow them down anything you toss up there stays at that speed and in that direction until it hits something." Lucifer's expression soured. "We discovered that when Raphael accidentally took out two planets and ended the dinosaurs whilst skipping asteroids, actually. Everyone got a talking to for that one."

"Hmmm, I don't suppose you'd find time to show us what they really looked like, would you? There's quite the debate about if they were shrink-wrapped lizards or, perhaps, took after rotund birds." Alastor mutters absently, and catches himself. Perhaps he was more tired than he thought. "Rosie has been staunchly intrigued by the creatures for decades, ever since seeing a skeleton in a museum as a girl, I understand. If you would be open to sharing information about them, she would be most obliged."

"Careful sinner, last time I was asked to talk about those creatures at length I didn't stop for at least a week. Thankfully the goetia in question had drunk enough coffee to fell a Sin, and was able to stay awake through the majority but I doubt anyone here has that tolerance." Lucifer teases, and he is markedly more relaxed than when he started. He seemed to exude a glow og joy when he was in his element, just sharing information even with sinners, whom he appeared to despise.

"...do not, under any circumstances, make such a statement to dear Rosie or she shall take it as a challenge. Wrangling her Overlord form when she is overstimulated and sleep-deprived can be quite the chore..."

"Ain't you like, top dog of the overlords?" Angel narrows his eyes at Alastor.

"He means... without hurting her. Al and Rosie are like fucked up siblings, he wouldn't raise a hand to her and she won't eviscerate him. But he's right, trying to get her to calm down like that, without the option of force, can be pretty damn difficult. Her whole Bigger form has way too many teeth, gives me a headache just looking at it sometimes." Husk shudders.

"Hey, actually, anyone need to get a drink or go to the bathroom or the other physical things you guys do?" Lucifer asked, his hat on the floor as he flips upside down in mid air, batting playfully at the little blue and green orb they'd lived on all their lives. "No? Okay, well, here's one you might be familiar with - Earth. Check out this little number!"

He cracks it in half to show off the layers inside, listing off what each one was and how it worked with the enthusiasm of a PHD student going through their passion project thesis. this orb, too, was passed around like show and tell in the class.

A smart-ass radio host may have allowed a singular refrain of 'has the whole world, in his hands' to fade in and out as the other sinners passed it around. The Earth was last seen snatched from the hands of an enamoured Angel Dust by a giggling Niffty, who scuttled out the door at alarming speeds.

"She. is. Terrifying. Where the fuck did you find her, bellhop?" Lucifer stares after the little creature.

"Quite the story, for another time, and Niffty present." Alastor waves it away. "Do you require the Earth returned? I can summon her back or send poppets to un-hah-earth where she is hiding in the vents...?"

"No, no its an illusion... it'll be fine. So, Jupiter, the not-star of the show and big sibling to earth!" Lucifer continues, showing off the markedly larger orb to everyone in the immediate vicinity. He enlarges it to point out interesting facts, and then pulls over Venus to compare the two. Apaprently they had a similar design but hidden interests under the dense layers of toxic storms.

And that was how several sinners learned things about those planets, and what was on them, several centuries before humans on earth ever would. The king made them swear not to share that information if they got summoned, which wasn't an everyday issue but... some of the overlords tended to get called on occasion. He still hasn't worked out how that keeps happening... the goetia were one thing, but the Sovereign Overlords?

Ah well. Lucifer then immediately pivots to the moons of Jupiter and Saturn, he LOVES the damn things and breaks down their differences in truly intense detail. Angel peppers in questions, enthralled. Husk has to fight an innate impulse to bat at the orbs rotating slowly past him regularly. Damned cat brain.

The rings of the planet were fascinating, and felt oddly gritty when handled, as Lucifer explained how they were made. He'd been consulted on this one, but it was all Sera and Michael, Saturn.

Uranus and Neptune were paired, he'd explained, pulling them over, and showing off the little details. Even Alastor was intrigued at the possibility of ice on Neptune, implying some level of water... and the potential for life to occur.

It was cold to the touch, but nowhere near as icy as Pluto. Lucifer took a deep breath as he got to that planet, his little project on the side... had meant it to be a moon but got too excited and made it a tad oversized. The others had been exasperated, apparently.

Lucifer spoke about how, just the year before on Earth, a satellite probe had gone past Pluto and taken photos of the surface! That it took many years and countless reams of paper covered in mathematics to facilitate such a feat, and he was so very oddly proud of humanity for it. He didn't say the words, but the pride in humanity's innate curiosity seemed to 'fill his cup' as they say, to see them use their free will for Good.

"Unfortunately, humans did decide it was a Dwarf Planet, and demoted it. But I think it's amazing. This would be the time for a size joke, sinners, if you have one ready... but I still love the silly little ball of ice. If I had my way we would have tried to colonise it with sentient temperature-resistent flora..."

Husk and Angel glanced at one another, trying to imagine what that could even look like. They'd already seen things beyond human imagining today, really put into perspective the concept of creativity when it came to immortal, nearly all-powerful beings with infinite possibility at their core.

Lucifer glanced down at them, offering Pluto over. "Really? Not one single crack at my height, Bambi? You're either learning restraint, are enamoured by my storytelling, or you're dead..."

Husk can't help but huff out a laugh.

"Anyway, this tenth planet, I called it..." the thing that came out of Lucifer's mouth wasn't quite a word, but it was beautiful. Like the chiming of a bell you could feel filling your heart with warmth, rather than hear. That was a super weird sensation to explain. "But... humans can't detect it yet. Technically it was a back-up in case asteroids took out one of the others, so it's phase-locked, technically there for gravitational reasons, but also not physically there if searched for by non-angelic means."

Lucifer hands over the impossible orb. Schrodinger's planet, if you will.

Angel's eyes go wide as he looks at something no one else would likely know about for centuries. "This is insane, ya majesty... I... you've got so much in that head a yours and I think you just made my afterlife with all this. I never... I never thought I'd get to know about the stars, not now. And not then neither. It's... It's silly of me, I know."

"It ain't." Husk assured, at the same moment a startled Lucifer said, "No it's not! The endless curiosity and compassion of humanity was what I gave you with Free Will... just because you're here doesn't mean it died off."

There was a split second as it seemed the King was having an Epiphany moment, and you could see the sweeping grin on his features. So very, very undeniably Charlie in that moment. "Oh, I get it... I see what Char-Char is trying to do. You do have the capacity for change, because it never left!"

Husk tenses for shit to go sideways, at least a round of sarcastic audience applause... and stiffens further when nothing is forthcoming. He glances past the overwhelmed spider to see Alastor appears to be sleeping, head resting on his chin.

Lucifer notices as well. "Hah! Told him that it takes an over caffinated Goetia to outlast my ramblings! And he thinks he can manage my dinosaur talk, as if..."

"Well, I mean, to be fair to Smiles... it's been a weird day. He had to hold up that shield over the hotel and then when that fucker Adam broke it, he was forced to fight the guy." Angel interjects, feeling the need to defend the other. It was so weird seeing the guy sleeping with his smile in place... but, it also felt kinda peaceful too. Being trusted.

He reached out an elbow to nudge the bombastic boombox of an overlord as Lucifer sputtered.

"He did WHAT? When? I didn't see him at all, just Adam attacking Charlie which let me fight back." Lucifer frowned now. "Are you sure...?"

"Yes, we're sure. Nearly shit myself when I saw Adam smash in the shield... never seen anything break one of Boss's wards before, not even this one asshole goetia who thought he could start removing the sovereigns to stop them 'rising above their station'." Husk shrugged. "Got to have a piece of the guy's arm... they don't taste half-bird, you could really tell he was a pheasant under all that finery."

"Uh... guys?" Angel interjects, swallowing as he takes note of the wetness on his elbow. "Can we put the lights on? I don't think Smiles is okay..."

With a snap, and dual hisses of pain as light seared their retinas with unerring accuracy, Lucifer vanished the solar system. Immediately uncovering a whole other issue... dark, wet patches were marring the Overlord's attire in a very pointed slash from one shoulder to the opposing hip. Or what passed for it, on this lanky fucker.

"Oh... well, fuck." Angel summated, eloquently.

Husk scowled, "Should've guessed something was up when he disappeared... and I haven't seen his staff since the battle. Must be busted or he'd have it on him... kept going to play with it earlier, should've asked him about it. Fuck."

The shadow nearly takes Angel's hands off at hte wrist as he started unbuttoning the coat. "Whoa, spooky Jnr, settle down! We're trying to help!"

"Enough of that, time out for you." Lucifer snaps, and the shade is suddenly bound with glowing golden strands of something it couldn't escape. He rolls up his sleeves, setling back on the ground and tugging out a red feather. "Alright, you idiot, let's see how bad this is."

Angel peeled back the coat and shirt with urgent reluctance. He knew the deer wasn't a fan of being touched unless he initiated, Angel had eight eyes and a fantastic ability to people watch, he could see how the Overlord worked. As much as he wanted to help, this also felt... uncomfortably non-consensual.

He inhales sharply at the revealled mess. Carefully stitched taut with glowing threads, the damage appeared extensive, and hard to look at for too long.

"The good news is I can fix it, the bad news... is it's going to suck for both of us. Angel, refrain from the obvious joke if you can." Lucifer said, and directed them to move the overlord into a position where they could more easily restrain him.

The minute the King laid hands, shadow tendrils errupted to attempt to eviscerate, but Lucifer's wings combated the majority whilst the miniature monarch concentrated on doing... whatever that was. Husk was just about sitting on Alastor's legs at this point, leaning in. Angel had all six arms free and holding on for (heh) deer life.

Angel thinks he's uttering something soothing, but his own brain is blank right now as Lucifer managed to drag something that looked horrifically like golden razorwire from within Alastor's wound, and wind it about his own arm until it dug in... then dissipated. Lucifer sighed as it did so, and exhaled shakily.

In a swift movement, he snapped the stitches, waving them out of the flesh that gaped open sickeningly. Golden light began to glow at both ends of the wound, and the heat in the room increased as it slowly moved down the length of the injury towards the midsection. Alastor thrashed, not conscious enough to scream but the radios went haywire around them.

Angel grabbed the Overlord's head to hold the guy still, with a pair of hands, as Husk... draped himself a little further up the deer's body and began to purr rhythmically. Angel nearly let go, in his surprise.

"Hang on, bellhop, just a bit longer... it's okay..." the King mumbled, clearly balancing out the need to Help with the power he was able to safely channel into a sinner body.

"Dad, stop!" Charlie shouts, skidding into the room in her nightclothes, a spear-wielding Vaggie behind her. "What are you doing?!"

"Char, wait, he's helping!" Angel shouts back, no free hands to ward them off. "Just... oh thank fuck that's over with, I feel like such an asshole pinning him for that."

Alastor went slack in their hold as the searing angelic healing finally subsided, the wound closed. Lucifer was panting a little. He clearly hadn't needed to use that little trick in some time.

The radios clicked off all throughout the hotel.

"...what happened?" Charlie looked at Husk, then Angel, then her father.

Vaggie had straightened, her eye critically assessing the situation. "I'd say Adam happened, hun. Remember how the shield broke? Fucker went straight towards Al on the roof..."

Charlie tugged at her own hair, eyes still raw from the loss of Pentious. "I knew I should've looked harder! I just thought... I mean, he's always so capable..."

"But he faced down the First Man without angelic steel, even someone with his power isn't able to kill him permanently without that." Husk offered, sitting up as if he hadn't just been a purring emotional support animal for a guy he claimed to hate.

"Wait, I thought he had a weapon?" Vaggie frowned, mentally running through the faces she'd handed out the weaponry to. "...no, he let Niffty have it. Actually, she grabbed it after he pointed at it. Why didn't he pick it up?"

Husk coughed into a hand, "Allergy, probably..."

"The deal, then? I can see it interlaced with some other commands." Lucifer is staring at the Sinner's throat with red eyes, clearly reading something. "Some of it's obscured but... nope, he's an idiot, a very weirdly brave one but an idiot nonetheless. What chance does anyone in hell have of killing someone like Adam without even an Angelic toothpick? Did you know about this, Char Char?"

Only then does Lucifer register the frightened, horrified expressions adorning husk and Angel's face as Charlie's own crumples into confusion.

"The... what? I have a deal with him, but its for a favour, nothing that can be used to hurt anyone. Please don't hurt him for that, Dad!" Charlie pleads, and throws Lucifer off balance.

"You have a what now?"

"A Favour. It was about the angelic steel... he told me, and said he could help me get an army if I made a deal with it. I-... Dad, please, I don't think he's all that bad... I offered him my soul and he declined it." She's rambling panicking, and it's clear which side of the genetics that came from, because his Majesty is starting to freak out as well.

His eyes snap red, and clearly traces the chain between them, lips moving as he read the terms. The shoulders unclench.

"Okay, okay, that's fine... I just have to work out if he asked for it for himself, or was asked to ask for it. But we'll need him conscious for that... and I don't think we'll get anywhere tonight." He yawns, and that little white face splits open farther than any would espect and shows off an almost eldritch form before snapping shut. "I think we all need a nap. It's been a long day."

He frowns down at his hand, and then brightens. "Oh, nearly forgot!" Lucifer places the red feather on Alastor's nearest wrist and it flickers into a thin red band with a flickering array of golden symbols. "That should stop soemone shadowing away or being summoned in the interim."

"Wait, Dad, what?"

"Long story, see I was telling these three about the solar system and when I got to the tenth planet, I thought the bellhop had fallen asleep but he'd just misplaced most of his blood, and then-..."

"No, the deal part."

"Oh, he seems to have one with your mother. Not sure what that's about but it looks messy, the terms aren't weighted right... and I feel like she might be up to more than I expected. But we can ask him in the morning, for now... I'm going to conjure somewhere soft to sleep. Removing grace always gives me a headache."

"Wh-..."

"Yeah toots, let's deal with it, no pun intended, after some shut-eye." Angel yawns, and flops back on the couch, which is swiftly poof'd into a very large, quite decadent fold-out bed. "Whiskers, how likely is he to eat me if we wake up spooning tomorrow...?"

"Uh..."

"What about you?"

"He's never eaten me before. S'long as I purr."

"I. need. details."

"Tomorrow. If we don't become breakfast in bed." Husk grumbles, dropping his hat on the bar and riggling onto the massive bed. Setting about moving Alastor to a more comfortable position. "Oh, and... if you wake up and Niff is there, don't scream. She sleeps with her eye open, but she just likes to be close to Boss."

"...Whiskers, you guys and your weirdness ain't even close to the strangest thing I've managed in bed." Angel dramatically rolled his eyes. "Heya short king, wanna come spoon with an infamous adult film star? Could raise your public image?"

"HAH! Or I could decimate yours!" Luccifer shot back, in the middle of what looked like a round bed with a nest-like structure around the outside. Okay, Angel admits that's pretty damn adorable. "But I'm cosy here... oooh, Char Char, did you want to nest with me? Maybe your angel wants to?"

"Yes." the word is out of Vaggie's mouth before she even registers the thought. "Angel thing, hun, I... love staying with you, but I did miss nesting with others. One of the only things I miss about being with my sisters... I mean, the others."

"Oh Vaggie, you should have said sooner! I would have made you a nest! Or ten! And gotten all the bird sinners I could find to roost with you!" Charlie panics, kissing every inch of Vaggie's face she could reach. "I'm so sorry..."

Vaggie kisses her on her nose, once. "No, you're overtired and very upset. But we can fix that, so let's go hop into bed with your dad..." She sighs through her nose at Angel's perfuntory Whoop, "and have a good sleep. Then we can deal with whatever the fuck he's done in the morning."

She can front all she wants, but the fact Vaggie didn't point with her spear said volumes about her fondness for the deer.

As everyone settles down and the lights dim, KeeKee and Fat Nuggets slink in and are picked up by their respective owners for snuggles.

Angel glances at the King. "Uh... ya majesty... any chance you could maybe... er..." He hesitates. How much power would that take?"

With a snap, the air around them is filled with tiny stars, and a rather lifelike model of earth's moon. "It's okay to ask for what you want." Lucifer reassures.

Angel beams, tucking close to the purring bartender and making sure he's not actively putting anything vital in biting distance of the slumbering overlord. "...thanks, for this. And I hope you can tell us more stuff another time, it was fun listening to ya... up until the bit where Smiles nearly died. but I liked it."

"You would really like to hear more?"

"Of course, Short King! You're a orn entertainer and you know so fuckin' much I want to read you like a book, and I hated doing that shit back in school."

"And we'll discuss that in the morning before anyone starts a monologue about different species of birds they created, right Dad?" Charlie subtly interjects.

"Of course, Char Char... goodnight everyone."

Various goodnights are heard across the room... and from a vent in the ceiling directly above Alastor. Ah, Niffty.

Angel grins to himself, imagining the flustered indignation the Overlord would front with tomorrow, at the knowledge of how many people cared enough to help his stubborn ass. It was gonna be quite entertaining...

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

End?

Genuine question

How do you think alastor and angel dust reacted when they heard about the moon landing?

Like, that was an insane step for everyone, can you imagine newer sinners coming in talking about rover on mars and those two assuming it was some sort of scifi show or podcast

Then finding out it was real

Also lucifer being a shit inthe background like, "the moon, pfft, yeah i made it. Its not as exciting as what we hid on jupiter, but go off i guess..."

[spotaus]

If I have energy I want to draw out some designs for an au I'm spontaneously writing.

(Medieval times, there's a Prophecy. Nightmare rules over this kingdom and is supposed to complete this prophecy, he refuses to because it would harm the people. Dream was sent away and banished by Night because he was dis-illusioned into thinking the prophecy was a Good Thing abd what he was raised to complete. Night collected his Knights (Killer, Dust, Horror, and Cross most recently) and trains them and tells them the truth of the prophecy. They're loyal to him. One day the magic of the prophesy (Apple Magic) leaves Nightmare unexpectedly, returning him to the state he was in before he accepted the mantle. This puts a target on his back and gives Dream a huge advantage in maybe making a comeback. The Knight's decide that their King (newly a young lad and variably scared and frightened) must be protected and they run the kingdom as he normally would, while also ensuring he survives and that the prophecy can't be completed.)

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

sorry for only saying this type of shit lately but i kinda wanna drive a car straight into a brick wall at the highest speed possible

[siliquasquama]

You wouldn't part an old man from his walking stick, after all.

hot take anyone who would benefit from a mobility aid deserves to have one. idc how disabled you are. if you think it’ll help you, even a little, you deserve it. you deserve that help.

[frascospecimen]

In bed crying real tears thinking about madoka magica

[nereidprinc3ss]

ghost in the machine

in which spencer reid coaxes reader out of an episode of extreme dissociation after a triggering therapy session

angst, fluff warnings/tags: established relationship, accidental mild injury, blood, unspecified trauma, but at the very least implied past emotional abuse, anxiety, reader has ptsd and is in #denial about it a/n: I'm hellaaaa chill sometimes I just lose hours of my day if I think about my childhood too hard

It’s normal for you to get home and immediately wash your hands—a habit you picked up from Spencer. So you walk through the door, and you close it, and you take off your shoes and you hang up your coat and he calls hey from the couch. 

You don’t respond. Or do you? You’re not sure. But you’re washing your hands, and then as you go to dry them, you notice your coffee mug from this morning, still sitting on the counter. 

I should wash that, you think, and so you pick it up and you take it back to the sink. 

Sink. Sink equals washing hands. 

You’re washing your hands again. 

What did you mean to do?

Dishes? Right. The mug is… gone, seemingly, but there’s a knife in the sink, too—you pick it up, and you’re about to rinse it off, and then it’s clattering from your hands. Somebody is pulling you back from the sink. 

Someone is saying your name a whole bunch of times. 

You turn, blinking, and there’s Spencer, glowing softly in the yellow light of the kitchen. 

He looks so concerned. He strokes your cheek but you feel it less than you seem to observe it from a distance. Says your name one more time, eyes softening a little. 

“What?” You murmur, as if in a trance. 

He blinks. 

“You dropped a mug. You’re bleeding.”

Well, that’s news to you. It seems like a preposterous claim, but you look down, and sure enough—that coffee mug which had disappeared from the sink is in pieces on the floor and the tile is smeared in red. 

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Are you okay?”

“I’m bleeding.”

His brows furrow. 

“Yes, I see that. Do you remember breaking the mug?”

The mug. Oh, yeah. Now that you think about it—yeah, you do remember dropping it. Watching it break into a hundred pieces. That noise, of dishes breaking and clattering—suddenly you inhale deeply. 

“I broke it,” you whisper. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I broke it—”

The memory of the sound is cacophonous, deafening and completely inescapable. 

“Hey, hey. You’re okay. Nobody’s upset at you. It’s just a mug.”

But that doesn’t make it any easier to lower your shoulders from where they’ve tensed to your ears, because once a dish breaks, there’s always a second of terrible, tremulous silence, before it explodes and somebody is screaming, painting every wall in the house with their rage. You squeeze your eyes shut. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, you whisper, wordlessly, just as you did so many years ago. 

“It’s just a mug,” he says again like that will help. “I’m gonna clean it up, okay? It’s gonna be like it never even happened.”

And that does provide some comfort—the fanciful idea of undoing. Of closing your eyes against the something terrible and wishing it away like you’ve always done and having it actually be gone when you open them. Spencer must be magic. 

“I’m gonna clean it up, but I want to make sure your foot is okay first. Is that okay?”

You take a deep, shuddering sniffle and nod, but that warm fog is pouring down the corridors in your brain like smoke in a maze. It obscures everything. Your feelings. The pain. The fear, thank god. There must be shards in your foot. Spencer apologizes from below as he peels off your bloodied sock, where he’s pulling the first aid kid from under the sink and working on you, but you don’t feel the pain. You don’t feel anything except the pressure of the bandage around your foot as he stands. 

He says your name again. 

“Hm?”

You’re scaring him. That much is evident from the look on his face. You wish you could stop, but it’s like you’re in a dream again. The brief clarity that moment of panic had provided is gone. 

“Can we just—can we go sit down?” He asks, already putting a hand on your waist. Sure. Why not. He supports your weight as you hobble around the broken mess on the ground and all the way to the couch. Oh. It’s too soft. Too forgiving. You sink into it too deeply, like you’re being swallowed, or breathed into a pair of monstrous lungs. 

Spencer is crouching in front of you, pushing hair from your face. 

“What’s going on, baby?”

“Nothing,” you murmur. “I’m fine. I just… dropped… a mug.”

“You didn’t remember or notice that you dropped the mug until I pointed it out. You washed your hands twice. You were about to try and wash a knife without a sponge.”

“No, I’m just… I’m tired. It’s…”

You trail off again, any further attempt at a meager excuse walled off a thick swirling fog. It’s like you’re trying to walk but you can’t see more than a few feet ahead of you. You can hardly think, let alone speak. 

Spencer frowns deeper. 

“It’s what?”

You pause for a long time. 

“Um… Don’t remember.”

“You’re scaring me,” he whispers, and again you wonder why, only you can’t really wonder at the moment. “Did you hit your head? Where did you come from?”

“When?” You ask. 

“Just now. When you came home, where were you coming from?”

“Diane. I was, um—I was at therapy.”

“No stops on your way home?”

“No,” you say. You’re pretty sure. You actually have no memory of what happened between leaving Diane’s office and walking through the front door. 

“Did you feel okay before you started therapy?”

“… Yeah.”

“So this started after?”

“What?”

“Your inability to put a sentence together, honey. You’re really out of it.”

“Oh.” Your eyes sting. It feels like an insult. “‘M fine.”

He reaches up to cup your cheeks. 

“What did you and Diane talk about?” He asks gently, a little less anxiously, like he’s figured out what’s wrong with you. 

At this, your mouth goes dry. What was before swirling fog has become a hulking black wall of solid obsidian. There’s nothing. 

“Um…”

“Can you remember?”

Something hot traces the length of your cheek from your eye. 

“No,” you whisper, sounding utterly distraught. “No, I can’t remember. I can't remember anything.”

More tears are coming now. How could you forget? You’re trying so hard to remember. How did you even get home?

“Okay. That’s okay, angel. You don’t have to remember.”

“I’m sorry. Something’s… wrong…”

“Don’t be sorry. I think you just got really overwhelmed at therapy and now your brain is trying to protect you. Can you tell me what you’re feeling in your body?”

Your… your body?

Nothing. It feels like nothing. 

“Why don’t you try and take a deep breath? I’ll do it with you.” He brings your hand to his chest, and your finger twitches against the hard abalone button. His chest expands, and you try to do the same, letting the cool rush of air down your throat. The room spins. 

“Woah,” you mutter, suddenly hyper aware of your breathing. 

“Slow down. We’re okay. You’re safe.”

He leads you through a few more deep breaths and you manage to get to a place where they don’t feel so precarious and unsteady. Your head sparkles with fresh oxygen and everything is too much. After a moment you’re settling your elbows on your knees and burying your face in your hands. Spencer rubs soothing lines up and down the side of your legs. 

“How do you feel now?”

“Not good,” you whisper. “My foot hurts.”

He hums. 

“Technically I shouldn’t let you take Ibuprofen because it’s a blood thinner and you have an open wound, but I think it’ll be okay just this once. You okay if I go get some?”

You nod, rubbing at your eyes with your palms until you see stars. The brain fog hasn’t lifted, but it’s thinned considerably. 

He comes back a few moments later with two round pills and a glass of cold water. The shock of it in your hand zaps your brain and you almost drop it but Spencer seems to have anticipated this so he hadn’t let go of the glass yet. He administers the pills once your hand is steady and you take them, feeling the river of ice down your throat and into the pool of your stomach. It seems to travel outward, extending into every reach of your body, bringing the sensorial world back to the forefront of your consciousness. Spencer must notice the goosebumps because he’s unfolding a blanket and wrapping it around you tightly, before pulling you into his arms where he sits and tucking your head beneath his chin. You let your eyes flutter shut, embracing the warmth, the pressure, the soft fabric against your skin. 

“I don’t know what happened,” you murmur. “I don’t… feel right.”

“That’s okay. I know it feels scary, but nothing’s wrong. I think you maybe talked about something that’s really hard to talk about when you weren’t quite ready. Sometimes when that happens, your brain tries to protect you from perceived threats by dissociating. It makes thinking straight really difficult.”

You frown. 

“How did I… How’d I get home?”

He strokes your hair. 

“The parts of your brain responsible for procedural memory aren’t as impacted during episodes of dissociation. But it’s actually not uncommon for people who don’t have PTSD to forget their commutes. It’s called highway hypnosis.”

“I don’t… I don’t have PTSD,” you insist. When Spencer doesn’t answer for a long moment, only continues stroking your hair, you swallow. 

“We don’t have to talk about this right now, angel.”

“Okay,” you whisper, like a child too weary to argue. He kisses your head. 

“It might be good for you to take a nap,” Spencer says, like he can read your mind. “I bet you’re tired.”

“How’d you know?”

“Because I know everything,” he says simply—a line borrowed from you. “Here’s what we’re gonna do, okay? I’m gonna order from Tandoori, and you’ll fall asleep, and I’ll wake you up when it’s time to eat, and we can watch your show.”

You smile despite yourself. 

“So assertive.”

“I’m thinking I can get away with it right now.”

He’s only teasing. You cuddle closer. He holds you tighter. 

“I’m the boss. And I want Thai food.”

“There she is,” he murmurs, rubbing your back over the blanket. The warm saccharine sweetness of his tone dizzies you, muddles your mind more pleasantly this time. Your heart rate slows. Your breathing goes back on autopilot. The rise and fall of his chest rocks you like the sea. Just at the cusp of sleep, he whispers one more promise. Of safety. Of love. 

When you wake up, you’ve forgotten all about it. 

But there's pad Thai on the table, and the kitchen is devoid of blood or broken glass. 

[nullen-void]

For a long time I wondered if the final TF2 comic would ever come out. For a longer time I wondered if I wanted it to. They built it up so much, hyped the Administrator's big plan so high, and then waited so long, could they possibly ever meet expectations?

I don't know if what they did was what they originally planned, or if there even was a plan, but I think they knocked it out of the park. It feels... right.

And it cemented the Administrator as one of the most terrifying villains in history. But before I discuss that, SPOILERS:

It was all pointless. None of it ever mattered.

The Gravel Wars, the fighting, the Australium, the deaths, the Classic Mercs, none of it mattered at all. Because Helen or whatever her name is just an addict getting her fix.

She kept a man alive for near enough two hundred years, trapped in the moment just before death by a thousand diseases, because she dedicated her life so thoroughly to ending him that when he finally croaked, she had nothing left. So she brought him back to suffer more. And then extended her OWN life so she could keep making him suffer.

And she doesn't even remember why. She was a child when Zepheniah Mann killed her parents, and she's something like a hundred and seventy years old now. It's been three normal lifetimes since then, and she's forgotten. But she never forgot the hate.

She sabotaged two infant's futures by raising them to be bafoons just to hurt their father. She orchestrated a forever war to spite a single man. She was prepared to keep this going until the heat death of the universe.

Do you know what would have happened if Pauling had lost her nerve and admitted they found a new stash of magic metal? With all three Mann brothers dead, she probably would have gone after Olivia. The last Mann standing, and a girl who at the time was only seven and had barely any connection to the Mann legacy at all, and probably didn't know her grandfather's name! And Helen would have gone after her and ruined her life just to make Zepheniah watch as yet another generation of Mann was ruined.

What a pointless, misspent life. What a waste of time. What an ending.

It makes what comes next all the greater. Scout and Soldier are dads with happy children, Spy still can't admit their relation but gets to be part of his grandkids' lives and he and Jeremy trust each other enough that Scout doesn't blink when he takes his mask off. Team Fortress is happy. They moved on. Found new lives.

Helen couldn't. She had all the time in the world and then some, and she just couldn't move on.

What a waste.

[toxinoire]

Okay okay so the scene where Glinda and Elphaba were about to escape the palace via hot air balloon, they failed because the roof closed.

But imagine what would have happened if it hadn't.

The balloon would fly, and they would escape.

Where do the winds take them?

Kansas.

Specifically, to where Dorothy is.

Dorothy, who's still around like 6 or 7.

So by some miracle, Dorothy's family lets them stay since someone needs to watch the young child while they're all away. So they basically become nannies/older sisters/substitute parents to this child.

Elphaba loves using her magic to make the little one laugh. And Glinda loves helping Dorothy dress up. The magic is a well kept secret.

Elphaba teaches Glinda some magic. While Glinda is not as powerful nor can she do as much, there are little things she can do. Such as make small objects float towards her, make flowers bloom, and control bits and pieces of light (I personally think magic is connected to not only emotion but personality).

As time passes by, Gelphie finally dates because 10 year old Dorothy one day asks Elphaba "where's your girlfriend?" while Glinda was just in the other room. Leading to an inevitable talk.

Gelphie's relationship is a well guarded secret by them and Dorothy, it took a while to explain to Dorothy why it's not so safe to tell others yet (remember the year this was made y'all), but she eventually got it.

When Toto was given to Dorothy, he did nawt like Glinda at first. He did eventually warm up to her, but Glinda still pouts about it sometimes.

Now the storm--well, tornado.

So, the house finally lands. Elphaba and Glinda step out first to make sure it's safe for teenage Dorothy to be outside.

And then the dawning realization that they're back at Oz strikes them.

And from the posters they see, it's clear that Elphaba is still wanted. Though this time, so is Fiyero. Because Fiyero lost Elphaba, the girl he's in love with but hadn't told, and Glinda (whether or not you personally believe he and Glinda had truly been in love may vary, but he cared about her, that's his bestie), he decided to take a stand as well. But of course, he had been painted as the wicked vigilante. Now, as for Glinda, she had been used to make Elphaba seem more of a villain--Morrible had been saying that Elphaba kidnapped her.

Dorothy is wondering why their names are all over this place Dorothy never heard of. Glinda and Elphaba are just like "sit down for this"

Dorothy is just "...I love that, actually."

And so now, they have to find a way home, then Elphaba fucking sees who's under the house.

And that night is spent through Elphaba crying in Glinda's arms, Glinda trying her best to comfort her, and Dorothy is also trying her best to be there.

Elphaba gets to keep the shoes this time.

Now their main question is how the fuck do they get home (they don't know of the shoes, how could they when they've been away from Oz for too long), find Fiyero, and maybe Boq, and maybe take the wizard down if they have time. How do they do all that when Elphaba is still blacklisted and Glinda is seen as some victim?

(Then maybe Glinda thinks out loud, what if there was a universe she hadn't been able to be there for Elphaba? And then the Dragon clock answers "Every other universe, you weren't there. Every other, you could never reunite. This is the only one you do." And upon hearing those words, Glinda becomes even more determined to stand by Elphaba's side because since his the only universe she stood with her, as an apology on behalf of her other selves, she'll make up to all the other Elphie's as much as she can here where she has this privilege to be with her)

[grilledcheeseandguavajelly]

“Agatha can’t control her powers and kills a bunch of people, this explains why Death is in love with her because it means she gets more bodies” No.

No no no.

I need “Agatha can’t control her powers and the first time someone blasted her with their magic they died right in front of her and she was only seven years old and terrified and alone until suddenly there was a small little girl across from her who gently took her hand and told her it was okay”

I need “Agatha can’t control her powers and had a tantrum, purple exploding out of her, but the other witch was too fast and Agatha blinked and they were dead on the ground and she scrambled back against the wall, curling up into a little ball and shaking, shaking, shaking, until someone just as young and soft as her stroked her hair back and told her they knew it was an accident”

I need “Agatha can’t control her powers and was beaten and bruised by her mother until she couldn’t take it anymore and ran off into the woods and was blasted by someone who thought she was a witch hunter, and she didn’t even realize what was happening until it was too late. Agatha climbing into a tree and scraping her cheek and trembling as she stared at the lifeless witch, something rattling deep inside of her that sounded like a stranger’s voice. And then the stranger appearing through the thick, standing over the dead body and instantly looking up, looking for Agatha. Finding her in the tree and climbing in with her. Smoothing a thumb across her cheek until it didn’t sting anymore”

I need “Agatha can’t control her powers and any spell she tries goes haywire, the final teacher that swore she could fix her grey and lifeless on the floor as Agatha sat up on the kitchen table and just stared and stared, tears falling, always falling, until that familiar face appeared through the bedroom doorway, watching Agatha, not the woman, and threaded their fingers together. Guided her to cracked, dusty skin and forced her to feel it, hand pressing hers into dead flesh and murmuring ‘exceptional’ under her breath before explaining every single step of reaping a soul. Talking and talking until Agatha wasn’t crying anymore, until she couldn’t remember why she had been upset in the first place”

I need “Agatha can’t control her powers but she also couldn’t control her temper, and suddenly half of a coven was dead before her, barely eighteen years old, and then the girl, also freshly a woman, the closest thing she knew to having a friend, sliding up behind her and placing a hand on her shoulder, wiping her tears away. Shushing her pleas of ‘why can’t I control it? Why do I ruin everything I touch?’ with soft murmurs of ‘there’s nothing wrong with you. You didn’t kill them. They simply… bent to your power.’”

I need “Agatha can’t control her powers but she sure as hell tried, until she was tied to a stake and her coven fell at her feet and her mother crumpled before her, hellbent until the moment she died to punish Agatha for things she had never meant to do. Agatha, with her grief and her relief and her freedom, finally, somehow still sobbing over her mother’s death, curled up far away and safe in the woods. Safe until Death came for her, hands cupping her face too tenderly, too delicately, and forced Agatha to meet her eyes. Death, who had somehow become the only one to ever show her mercy and kindness and compassion, leaning her forehead against hers and whispering ‘it’s okay. I am so proud of you.” Death leaning in so, so hesitantly and pressing the smallest kiss to her mouth. Breaths hitching. Eyes meeting. Long, loaded stares and trembling fingers and Death herself smiling at Agatha like she actually meant it. Agatha fisting her cloak and yanking her closer and letting Death suck the air right out of her lungs, and Agatha somehow living anyway”

That’s what I need.

[kettlefire]

Prepare for the unexpected. (DPxDC)

Everyone knew about the reign of Pariah Dark. Even those who did not dabble in those realms have heard the tale of the tyrant. A power-hungry man who ruled over the dead with an iron fist.

Following the rise of Pariah Dark, his realm had been effectively cut off from communication. Many mystics and magic users knew better than to open the door of nightmares that could arise if Pariah Dark's reach went further than his own realm.

Except, the universe had plans to bring the realm of the dead back into the cards.

A new opponent, one that had all of Earth's heroes scrambling for options. A being with powers of a god over weather, destruction was on the horizon. A world ending threat.

It's the only reason the Justice League was doing this. In a deep bunker, far from close civilization as a precaution, the heroes looked on with grim expressions.

The world was already being threatened. It would be destroyed regardless of what the league did. So it only made sense to make the last ditch effort. To summon someone strong enough to defeat the threat.

No one wanted to do it. No one wanted to be the one to pull the realm of the dead back to the living. The consequences were untold if this succeeded. If Pariah Dark was freed and defeated the threat, whose to say he won't want control?

That was a problem for later. For the aftermath. For now, the league could only watch on with bated breath as Constantine completely the summon ritual.

They watched on as the shadows in the room seemed to darken and grow. As the sigil sputtered to life with a glow that was growing increasingly brighter. A sudden gust of wind rushed through the room, the temperature began to drop with eaching ticking second.

And then it was all gone.

The room stood perfectly still. Just as it had been moments before. Nothing changed. No giant king standing before them, no sign that the ritual worked.

The room stood deadly still for another beat before the murmurs started. The team trying to make sense of the situation, figure out what went wrong.

Constantine swore up and down that this was the correct ritual, taking offense that they would even think the problem was on his end. It only made it better when it finally happened.

A loud sound ripped through the room, pulling everyone's attention back to the summoning circle. Just in time to see a tear appear in the space above the circle.

A thin tear that ran the length of eight feet. The fabric of the dimension seems to curl at the edges, pulling back to reveal a deep glowing swirl of greens. A dark gloved hand reached through, fingers curling around the edge of the tear, stretching it even further.

A portal. The ritual had worked, but there had been a delay. A delay that had every hero nerves on edge. Each team member tensed, weapons at the ready as they watched the being stretch the portal to the right size.

Then, a foot stepped out with a heavy thud. A dark boot that looked otherworldly despite its similarity to mortal clothing. A deep black that seemed never-ending. A second foot quickly followed before a full body emerged from the portal.

Not many people in the room have ever seen Pariah Dark, let alone know what to expect. Based on what Constantine and Zatara had said, this wasn't Pariah Dark.

A man had stepped out of the portal, standing at almost seven feet tall, and built like a brick house. One glance at the glowing white hair, deadly red eyes, and shard teeth was enough to know this being was not to be messed with.

But there was no giant show of armor or royal garbs. There is no large crown at the top of his head or jewelry from the infinite realms laced around his neck.

Instead, the man stood before them in combat boots, worn-in ripped jeans, a graphic t-shirt, and a spiked leather jacket. Despite his almost normal clothing choice, the man's jacket seemed to be a never-ending depth of the dark night sky. If one was to look closely enough, the cosmos could almost be made out in the sea of darkness.

None of that would have prepared them for when the man spoke. His tone sounded more bored than anything as he took a step forward.

"Oh, so now you need the help of the dead." The man had spoken, running a hand through his hair. When Batman took a step forward to speak, the man raised a hand. Immediately commanding silence in the single gesture. "I'm on babysitting duty and have yet to have a cup of coffee. I'll be right back."

Just like that, both the man and portal vanished into thin air. Leaving behind a group of stunned heroes. Not only was the man not Pariah Dark, but he was also supposedly babysitting.

"Did that just-"

The Flash had been the first voice to speak up, his eyes trained on where the man had once stood. Except he had barely made it through the first few words before the man was suddenly back.

The man that now had a child hanging off his shoulders and another teen being held up by his scruff. Unlike the man, these kids looked human.

Too human for Bruce's liking. The dark black hair and bright blue eyes had every heroes eyes flickering to Batman for just the briefest moment.

"This isn't fair! I'm not even the king. Why do I have to be here!" The teenager had been complaining the moment the man had reappeared. Arms crossed tight over his chest and seemingly used to being held dangling. "Besides, who brings kids to a show down! Wait til I tell mom about this."

"Aw, come on, Danny. This is gonna be fun!!" The younger girl seemed in much better spirits than the teen, Danny. She had climbed up the large man, sitting on his shoulders and resting her arms on the mess of glowing hair. "It's like take your kids to work day! Ooo, Dan! Can we fight too!?"

Unlike the two kids, the man looked purely exhausted and annoyed. The man, Dan, dropped Danny like a sack of potatoes as he took a long drink from the travel cup in his hand.

It didn't take a genius to recognize the look of an exhausted parent in Dan's expression. A look many of the league members were well acquainted to. A look that even had Batman grimacing with sympathy.

"Can it, little shits. You two were grounded, remember." Dan had growled at the kids before shifting his focus back on the team of heroes before them. His glowing eyes set in a deadly glare. "Pariah Dark isn't coming, and he never will. He's been dethroned and banished. We're the best you've got."

A summoning that started with a group of on edge and scared heroes looking for the ghost king, ended in a way no one expected.

No one was even sure if it made any sense. They weren't sure if they should feel hopeful or in despair.

Because truly, what was a ghostly man with two seemingly human children against a godlike foe with the control over the weather?

The unspoken question of power and ability seemed to vanish following Dan downing the metal travel cup of coffee, and crushing it in his fist.

He tossed it to the side, straighting up his posture as he looked over the heroes. Dan might not be a hero, but he's been playing family for too long.

An almost feral, bloodhungry grin spread across the man's face, sharp fangs on full display. The look made the man suddenly look even less human. He looked closer to a demon from the pits of hell rather than the exhausted parent he looked just a few seconds ago.

"Point me in the direction of this bastard. It's been too long since I let loose and had some fun."

[moonstrider9904]

après la bataille

Steb x fem!Reader (Enforcer)

Summary: the battle for Piltover has past, and you help Steb find some much needed peace of mind.

Word count: 2.2k

Tags/warnings: Mature and SFW, (french) kissing and making out, brief implications of smut. Spoilers for the ending Arcane season 2. Enforcer!Reader, mentions of death and loss, hints of PTSD, processing difficult emotions, hurt/comfort, established relationship.

Prequel one-shot coming soon! | My Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warm lights gleamed in the distance, and if one didn’t pay much attention, you would almost swear nothing had happened in Piltover for days. In the peaceful, quiet night, while the City of Progress’ lights twinkled and contrasted with the night sky, it was easy to forget the smoke and the unnatural violence, the blood that had been spilled, the war that, in what had felt like a blink of an eye, shook Piltover and Zaun only to leave things unnervingly quiet—those who had been in the head of it had a hard time believing, at times, that things were truly at peace now.

Steb watched the city with a heavy heart. Though victory had reigned, and Piltover and Zaun weren’t at odds with each other or the Noxian empire, it was inevitable to ponder on the cost. He had witnessed it first hand, from the moments he fought for his survival to having faced his own death in less time it would take him to exhale, mercifully saved by former councilor Medarda; he’d seen the price of the chain of events Hextech had brought forth in the form of light escaping the eyes of each of his fallen comrades.

Some of them had been his friends.

It had happened fast. The partner with whom Steb had gone from rescuing a stranded cat atop a tall tree to dismantling Shimmer, had died before his eyes at the hands of her own bullet—and the magic of the same mage who saved his life. He’d barely had time to process her betrayal and to question how the hell he hadn’t seen it coming before Maddie lay lifeless on the ground where she’d stood, about to take another life. If Steb mourned, he’d be mourning a traitor, but if he didn’t mourn, he wouldn’t be mourning his friend. A part deep within him hated such a dichotomy.

And then there was Loris. Not many words had been shared between the two—there was never any need for them. But Steb vividly remembered the attack on the memorial as the first real battle he’d been in, and Loris was the reason he’d come out of it alive. The vagabond he’d found lying hungover and nearly unconscious on the Piltovan sidewalk had mustered superhuman strength to shield him from a fatal blow, and now, Steb would never have a chance to return the favor. Just as he and the other survivors were emerging after the battle, it was the pianist turned soldier who went up to him and delivered Loris’ badge, and Steb knew it could only mean one thing. The feeling of his heart plummeting within him would be one he’d remember all his life. The loss of Loris, of Maddie, of the Zaunites he’d met at the bridge willing to take a stand.

The only thing that could console him after that was knowing you’d made it out alright. If he had another regret, it would be not being with you every second of it, but it would comfort him forever to know you were safe with him and you’d done your part in returning Piltover and Zaun to peace.

And as if his thoughts had invoked you, he soon heard your steps approaching. He remained facing the city as you entered the balcony, but his ears twitched in the direction of your footsteps, and a hint of a smile formed when he felt your arms wrap around him from behind, and your cheek resting up against the side of his arm.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Your sweet voice traveled to his ears and soothed every fiber within him. For once, Steb was able to relax, exhaling the tension from within his body, and his hand went to cover yours as it rested over his heart.

“They don’t matter,” he muttered.

You smiled softly, stifling a chuckle while you snuggled into his back before making your way towards his side, finally able to look up at him. “They do to me, love.”

Steb dismissed his laments and shifted to face you. He gazed down on you, thinking to himself how rare it had become to see you dressed in something other than your uniform, and for a moment he couldn’t fathom how beautiful you looked in your deep blue gown. It had discreet silver details and the right crop to compliment your silhouette in the best ways possible, and for a moment he was whole again, finding a brief respite from the memories that had tormented him those past few days.

“You look gorgeous,” Steb said softly with his deep, rich voice which you loved.

You smiled up at him, eyes sparkling, as you took his hands in yours. “You’re looking very handsome yourself.” Your eyes scanned the attire he was wearing—his suit resembled his uniform, but it was darker and far more elegant, and if you didn’t know better, you’d sooner mistake him for royalty than assume he was being promoted. You knew he was supposed to be wearing his black hat, but for the time being, he’d cast it aside, a fact you adored—you loved seeing as much of his features as you could, always finding it a whole new, beautiful experience to simply be able to look at Steb and gaze upon his every detail. You gave his hands a gentle squeeze and paced closer to him, taking one of your hands to rest on the crook of his neck and letting your thumb caress his skin gently.

“You’re going to make a fine commander,” you smiled gently at him.

Grateful as he was for your words, you noticed Steb carried the weight of the world in his eyes. He stifled a chuckle and, knowing he could be at ease with you, he briefly looked out at the peaceful Piltover, melancholy.

“Would it be too self-loathing to say I don’t think I deserve it?” He questioned.

“Yes,” you replied without a doubt. “It would also be a flat lie.”

Steb gave a quick exhale and some of the tension left his body, but the thoughts continued to weigh on him. “I could have done more.”

“You’ve done so much already,” you said gently, pausing as your gaze faltered before meeting his eyes again. “I know how you feel… I lost people too. And… not being with you during it was hell.”

“I know,” Steb said quietly.

You exhaled, and your voice fell to a whisper. “I really thought I was gonna lose you.”

He held the hand that rested on his neck and lifted it so that you could see him holding your hand from the corner of your eye.

“You couldn’t,” he said.

The dread left you entirely, and you managed to smile brightly at Steb, finding once again the will to achieve your sole objective of lifting his mood.

“And once you’re commander,” you continued, “you are not getting rid of me.”

Steb laughed smoothly. “Is that a promise?”

You nodded with a cheeky glint in your eye. “Darling, you can consider that a threat.”

His laughter came again, and you wrapped your arms around his upper back while he wrapped his around your waist. You stepped even closer to him, sealing the space between your bodies, and you were well aware of the way your chest pressed itself to his torso. Your eyes adopted an enticing gleam, and your lips curved into the smile Steb was never able to resist, and your voice was smooth when you talked to him, inviting him deeper into finding bliss with you.

“Is there anything I could do to make you feel better?” You asked him with a smirk.

You didn’t have to do more for Steb to understand, and he decided to play a little further with you.

“Hm,” he hummed. “I’m not sure.”

“Really?” You pressed yourself even more to him and perked up on your toes, letting your lips draw close up to his. “Nothing comes to mind? Not even, perhaps, something we could very easily do in the less than an hour we have before the ceremony? Gee, what ever could we do in that amount of time?”

Steb laughed fully and, with a firm grip, he picked you up and spun you around, now holding you as though he were to dance with you.

“You make it tempting,” Steb purred. “But I’d never dream of rushing things with you. Besides, I’m not going to risk ruining that pretty dress before the ceremony.”

“That,” you replied with a giggle, “was actually the correct answer.”

You both fell in silence, and you didn’t make an effort to fight the urge to brush your hand up to his cheek and let your thumb trace over the delicate frills around his eye. Steb leaned into the warmth of your palm—you knew he loved the tender contact of your skin on his frills—and without another moment’s hesitation, you took his lips in yours.

You could feel his body relax as his arms wrapped deeper around the curve of your back, as if he could pull you any closer, and though your eyes were closed as you kissed him, you knew by now his ears had slowly tilted downward and the frills around his eyes moved in slow, uniform waves, a testament to the peace and the joy brought upon him by your lips. The tenderness of the kiss gradually morphed into desire as you felt Steb pushing himself forward to you, adding strength to the movement of his lips and slowly slipping his tongue inside of you; the delicate friction of his tongue on yours filled your body with the sweetest sparks you’d ever be exposed you, and it prompted you to cling around his shoulders standing on your toes—a little more, and your feet would be off the ground.

You didn’t resist the urge to moan into his lips, and the airy quality of your voice made Steb smirk into the kiss. You wanted more of him, and just as you were cursing the fact that you both had to be at a ceremony in less than an hour, and that it would keep you from being entwined in bedsheets with him instead, you let your desires take over and you made your way kissing down Steb’s neck. You delighted in the moan that escaped him, delicious in his rich and deep voice, and as you kissed his neck, you let your lips linger in the same spot for just enough before moving to the next, crawling dangerously close to the collar of his shirt. You decided no harm would come in humoring your fantasies just one step further, and your fingers delicately undid that first button pushing the fabric to the sides, exposing but a fraction of his chest where your fingertips danced and caressed, hinting at the mischief and delicacy that could have been were it not for the honors he was about to receive.

“Darling…” Steb’s breath hitched and a smirk formed on his lips.

For a moment, he too wished you didn’t have other places to be, but if he had to settle for the moment, he’d make it worth it by grasping firmly at the backs of your thighs and lifting you up for you to wrap your legs around his waist as much as the skirt of your gown would allow. You gave a pleased giggle in response, now able to wrap your arms around him further, and you kissed his lips once more, brushing your tongue against his freely and with glee. One of your hands tugged softly at his hair, trying your best not to mess it up for him, and the other went to the back of his neck where your fingers rested on the crooks of the fins that went down his spine. You lost yourself in that kiss, hoping it would last forever, enjoying every second until Steb set you down on the ground again and sealed the moment with one last, tender kiss on your lips before rising up again.

You were dazed after such a session, and you were pleased to see that so was he. Steb grounded himself with a deep exhale, redoing the button of his shirt almost reluctantly, but you also noticed he had a little smile on his lips that hinted at satisfaction and even pride. You chuckled, glad that you could bring such emotions upon him. He then gazed at you, still smiling, and you grinned in anticipation of what the look on his face meant—he’d have his way with you after the ceremony.

But for the time being, you walked up to him one more time and hugged him gently, resting your head against his chest, able to hear the beating of his heart. You settled into the peace that came with the embrace, hoping dearly he felt better than before you’d arrived onto that balcony. You listened for any other sounds, but there was quiet all around you.

Yes, Piltover was at peace now, and when you felt Steb wrapping his arms around you once more, you knew things would be alright. Still in the embrace, you shifted to look up at him, your chin resting on his chest, able to gaze into his ocean eyes as he looked down at you. Tenderly, you smiled, and Steb smiled back as if he could read your thoughts, but he didn’t need to. The gleam in your eyes and softness of your smile told him everything, that you would stand with him through the honors he’d receive, and through everything else that followed.

Silently, you made that promise to him.

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Tagging: @thegreatandlvable let me know if you want to be tagged in future Steb fics!