#just to stay sharp + keep improving if i truly am on the up and up :o)

[causticsunshine]

been working on some photo studies in the hopes that perfecting my rendering skills and the like will help me finish more pieces and idk if i suddenly got really good at painting faces or what but god i’m doing something right with this one study and i can only hope it means something good for my art

tbh most of the art i scrapped the last few years—which was mostly the 1d pieces i lost rip 😔—i scrapped because i didn’t like how i painted the faces so?? yeah i really hope. the tide is turning

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Divus Crewel - Rich Fur Coat Vignette

"A full course of disciplinary action"

[Sage‘s Island – Foothill Town]

Sage’s Island Resident: Good morning, Divus-san. You're up pretty early again.

Crewel: Good morning, madam.

Crewel: Also… Good morning, Emma!

Crewel: Your cute spots look so good on you, as always. I am truly lucky to be able to meet with such a stunning beauty so early in the day.

Crewel: …Can I give you some pets, you sweet thing?

Emma: Bark, bark!

Sage’s Island Resident: Fufufu, you're always so doting on our Emma, thank you. Look, she's so happy she's showing her belly.

Crewel: No, I should be thanking you. These fleeting moments I get in the morning are my personal solace.

Crewel: I'm grateful that I am able to see and pet these beautiful little lads and lasses.

Crewel: Especially since I'm unable to see my precious ones until I return to the Queendom of Roses on the weekends.

Sage’s Island Resident: If I recall, you have two friends looking after your dogs back home during the week, right?

Crewel: That's right. They're old friends… Or rather, they've become more like hired hands.

Crewel: I would love nothing more than to bring my dogs to Sage's Island…

Crewel: But my apartment here in Foothill Town is much too small to keep them.

Crewel: Sometime in the future, it would be nice to rent a large home here in this town and live with them together every single day.

Crewel: I'd drive with them in my favorite car on the long road along the ocean… That's the dream.

Sage’s Island Resident: Well, how lovely. I'm looking forward to the day that I'll be able to meet your precious dogs, Divus-san.

Crewel: And I as well, madam. I hope you have another pleasant day today. Bye, Emma.

Crewel: Good morning, my good sir. A strong cup of tea, as per my usual.

Shopkeep: Good morning, Crewel-kun. Would you like some food with that?

Crewel: No, thank you. I don't eat breakfast, as a rule.

Shopkeep: Yes, yes, I know. I thought I'd just ask.

Shopkeep: I can't believe you come to my little establishment so early in the morning just to drink tea instead of our signature coffee blend…

Shopkeep: You're still an odd one, even after becoming a professor at Night Raven College.

Crewel: Hah. Truth be told, I don't come here for the tea.

Crewel: Every Monday morning, if I sit in this seat here, I can watch the ships sail into port. The sight of the sails in a row is beautiful…

Crewel: This tea doesn't even compare to the stuff I can brew, but this view is something I can't replicate back home.

Shopkeep: Hahah! I always knew you were a sharp-tongued devil in your student years, but it seems you've just gotten even more cruel!

Crewel: I think it's more of a shock that you haven't improved your tea brewing skills in 15 years, sir.

Shopkeep: Well, luckily, we're still thriving! Do enjoy your time here.

Crewel: Thanks. …Hm. This respite is quiet and soothing.

Crewel: I should relax while I can. …Because I'm sure today will end up being yet another busy day.

Crewel: Today, I have homeroom plus three other classes. There's also preparations that need to be done for next month's event, a staff meeting, and last week's tests that need grading… Whew.

Crewel: Well. I'll just have to hope those pups won't cause me any issues, at a minimum.

[Laboratory]

Crewel: STAY!!!

Students: EEK!

Crewel: I can't believe this… What have you done?

Crewel: Why are all the ingredients needed for today's experiment scattered all over the floor?

Crewel: Which one of you mangy mutts not only stepped on but also mixed together all those spilled ingredients?

Crewel: I am only asking a simple question, and yet all anyone can yelp is "It wasn't me," or "It was someone else's fault"...

Crewel: PUPS WHO CAN'T OWN UP TO THEIR MISTAKES ARE NO BETTER THAN A MUTT! THEY DON'T EVEN DESERVE TO BE CALLED DOGS!

Students: EEEEP!

Crewel: So tell me, who is the culprit? Tell me truthfully, and you'll only have to deal with a full course of disciplinary action and not a bit more.

Students: Th-That is…

Students: [everyone stares]

Grim: Hm?

Grim: …Wh-Wh-Wh-What? Don't all you be lookin' down on me!

1. I think it'd be better if you just apologize honestly… 2. You'll get a lighter punishment if you just confess now.

Grim: It wasn't me who did that! It's [Yuu], definitely [Yuu]!

Scarabia Student: Don't try to blame [Yuu]. You really don't know how to give up, huh, Grim!

Octavinelle Student: Yeah, you were the one who flipped the table in the first place! There's no way I'm gonna let you take us down with you!

Grim: Heh! Do ya even got any proof that I did it?

Crewel: I see. It definitely won't do to accuse someone of the crime without proper evidence.

Crewel: …By the way, Grim.

Grim: Hm?

Crewel: The fur on your legs have turned black, but why is that? It looks just like that of a black cat.

Grim: Huh? My legs?

Grim: …Woah, you're right! My amazing grey fur's pitch black!

Grim: WH-WHAT'S WITH THIS!? GET RID OF IT FOR MEEE!

Crewel: There's no point in wiping it. The sap from the tree we were to use today turns black upon exposure to air.

Crewel: If it were to touch on your clothes or hair, it wouldn't matter how much you scrub or wash with water, it won't come off.

Crewel: incidentally, to return the blackened part to normal, the fastest method would be to cause another reaction to render it colorless.

Crewel: Look! Everyone see here.

Crewel: When I pour this concoction of herbs onto Grim's blackened legs…

Crewel: See, it returned back to its normal color. Make sure you remember this reaction.

Students: Oooooh.

Crewel: …Now, Grim. Do you have any idea why the ingredients we were to use for today's experiments got on your legs?

Grim: M-M… MYAAAH!

Grim: It ain't my fault! The desk shouldn't've been there!

Crewel: YOU MONGREL! YOU ARE TO STAY AFTER CLASS AND COPY LINES AS PUNISHMENT. UNDERSTAND!?

Crewel: And [Yuu], you're to also stay behind, as Grim's prefect. It would be troublesome if you cannot even look after your own pet!

1. But I have plans after class…

Crewel: Oho, you have plans that take priority over my prescribed discipline? [Yuu shakes their head] …No? A good response from a good boy.

2. I'm sorry…

Crewel: If you truly are sorry, then lets see that as a tangible result. If you can make Grim learn to sit and stay properly as his prefect, then I'll give you a treat.

Crewel: These pups truly are a handful… My beloved pet dogs are much more well behaved.

Crewel: Everyone, sit!

[Crewel magics the ingredients]

Grim: All the stuff I dropped are just floating back on top of the desk. So why's he gotta get on me when he can just fix everything…?

Crewel: The ingredients have been properly prepared once again. I will now explain the procedure for this experiment, so make sure you watch carefully.

Crewel: …I expect all of you to be on your best behavior.

Grim: Urp. He's just glaring at me, now…

[Interior Hallway]

Crewel: Ah, classes are finally over. Today was another tiring day.

Crewel: None of the freshmen listen and the sophomores slack off now that they've gotten used to the classes. And the juniors are teeming with arrogance.

Crewel: If I were a student, I would absolutely have literally knocked some sense into them...

Crewel: However, because of my position, I cannot do that now. I never even thought that I would be more inconvenienced as a professor, than I was as a student.

Crewel: Tch! I knew what I was in for, but still, I hadn't expected being an instructor to be this difficult.

???: And why are you clicking your tongue like that, Crewel-sensei?

Trein: As a professor of this school, I would prefer if you were to carry yourself better, so as to be a good example towards the students.

Crewel: Ugh… And now on top of everything else, someone even fussier has shown up…

Trein: What is with that disgruntled look? Do you take some issue with me?

Crewel: Of course not, don't be absurd! I would never bite back at any commentary you have for me, Trein-sensei.

Trein: Good. We should start to head towards the staff meeting, then.

Trein: Incidentally, you seemed to look rather exhausted a moment ago. Did something happen?

Crewel: No, I wouldn't say there was anything in particular…

Crewel: …I was only thinking of how I could effectively train the students. There are more than a fair share of unruly pups.

Trein: Do you of all people have any right to say that…? Especially since you were one of the rowdiest students during your time here.

Crewel: That was simply youthful ardor. Wasn't I just a charming little thing?

Trein: Don't write it off as simple "youthful ardor." Have a little shame.

Trein: …Well, I suppose it hasn't been too long since you've become a professor, in the end. This year makes… how long?

Crewel: Six years. Have you forgotten our joyous reunion already?

Trein: Hmph. Of course I remember your scowling little, "Oh, professor, were you still here?"

Trein: But only six years, I see… Well, why don't you pat yourself on the back for doing as well as you are for such a short tenure?

Crewel: I'm doing well? …Do you truly think so?

Trein: It is a fact that the rate of students pursuing the sciences have increased since you've arrived. There would be no purpose in denying that your instruction is showing good results.

Crewel: Heh… Heheh, is that right?! Well, I certainly wasn't expecting that coming from you.

Trein: And there you go getting carried away and speaking without any forethought. I do believe I've taught you countless times since your time here as a student to respect your elders, haven't I?

Trein: …Now then, if you're feeling better about yourself, we should get this staff meeting underway. I am keeping Lucius waiting.

[Trein walks off]

Crewel: …How insensitive of you, Trein-sensei.

Crewel: Here I am, patiently enduring everything until I can finally go see my dogs over the weekend, and you say that.

[Alchemy Workshop]

Crewel: Now that the meeting is done with, I should try to finish grading the tests while I can.

Crewel: …The rate of students pursuing the sciences, hm. I suppose it's true that everyone's grades are improving, even if at a slow pace. …A truly slow pace.

Crewel: Heh. I do enjoy seeing these pups grow.

[knock, knock, click]

Grim: Hey! I went 'n did that assignment for ya!

Crewel: What is it that you've done for me...?

1. I'll have him try that again. 2. He just misspoke!

Grim: I-I mean, I finished the assignment ya gave me. I'll put it here on the desk, 'kay?

Grim: …Hm? There's a book with a fancy cover mixed in with all these boring lookin' books. What's this?

Crewel: Oh, did that catch your eye? That book contains the collection of an apparel brand I worked for in the past.

Crewel: I keep telling them to not send anything to my office, but are some who just refuse to listen…

Crewel: Not only do I receive their catalogs, but also phone calls, all asking for my advice for the next fashion season.

Crewel: …It's just like your tests, don't you think? I'll have to fix their mistakes later to the best of my abilities.

Grim: Urgh, that sounds annoying. Why don'tcha just ignore 'em?

Crewel: Ignore them… Hahah, that's one idea. I can imagine their panicked and frantic faces.

Crewel: …But no, I do consider this somewhat of a hobby for me.

Crewel: Just because I've become a professor, that does not mean I can fall behind the current fashion. I want to constantly be checking the latest trends.

Crewel: I'm sure even you'd prefer a fashionably cool instructor over some decrepit, antiquated teacher, right?

1. I want a cool teacher.

Crewel: Right? You're quite a lucky one on that account, pup, because you have me as your homeroom teacher!

2. I want a nice teacher.

Crewel: You'll get bored if they're just nice all the time, you know. You might understand what I mean when you get a bit older.

Grim: I don't really get all that hard fashion stuff, but I totally wanna look cooler!

Crewel: Well, I'll consider that good enough for now. Don't you worry, I'll make sure to turn you into polished gems before graduation.

Crewel: You students here at Night Raven College may have a knack for magic, but your fashion senses are severely lacking.

Crewel: …And since I've taken on the duties of being your teacher, I won't allow that to continue.

Crewel: When I first started here, I vowed that I would craft every single one of you into the most fashionable and capable mages you can be.

Crewel: You have a first-class instructor, and first-rate instruction. …It would be impossible for you all to not become fantastic mages.

Grim: Heh. I'm totally gonna become a great mage even without your help!

Crewel: Hahah, you're a cheeky one. …Now then, if you've finished your task, go on. Looks like your friends have arrived to walk you out.

Crewel: Your time as a student may seem long, but it is deceptively short. I will do what I can to support all of you so that you can live your life here without any regrets.

Requested by @revengeofreaper32.

[clatterbane]

I really wasn't kidding about the not-quite-side gig thing, though. That's also sort of tied up in my own ongoing special Disabled Foreign Devil version of a midlife crisis, though.

My life has ended up going off in some strange and highly inconvenient directions, due to the person I am. Things would probably be a lot easier in a number of ways if it had taken the actually easier road at several junctions. But, it is what it is. You deal and try to make the best of it, clichéd as that may be.

But yeah, I am now pushing 50 and sitting somewhere that I still kinda suck at the main language--with no completed degrees, no documentation of what foreign formal education I do have, extremely little adult employment history because I stayed too busy being variously disabled over the years, zero other qualifications, and still pretty limited spoons though I am physically doing much better these days. Oh yeah, and I am indeed visibly disabled now, autistic and noticeably weird as hell on top of it, and now pushing 50. Though I can probably skate farther on "eccentric foreigner" with the neurodivergence (and not being a native speaker) than in the UK, that is only one disadvantage mitigated.

(Also kinda hard to have much in the way of longer term "retirement" prospects when you have fuck all employment history or personal savings, and you relocate somewhere that you have absolutely no previous connection to systems when you're already middle-aged. I never really expected to find myself at this stage in life period, much less with very little in the way of prospects or financial independence. But, that's a bit of a side consideration at this point. I just don't want to end up shoved into the shithole tier of nursing homes one of these days, though. And with one leg and no career, that could conceivably happen anytime. Cyanide time, tbqh.)

Working in my favor, I am in one of the "better" tiers of immigrants, as an Anglophone who is pasty as fuck out of the sun and also married to a native. Only part of which is remotely under my control. And I usually come across as smart enough, however much of that may rely on bluffing. That was more of an asset when I was in my 20s than it even counts as at this stage of life, with no easily recognizable achievements to back it up.

Nobody is going to hire me for much of anything, and I'm truly not sure what formal work I could reasonably handle without running myself completely into the ground.

So yeah, that (easier, expected) route is pretty much out. Can't rely on working for anybody else, better figure out how to DIY some kind of financially gainful endeavor. Kinda just leaves us back at having the brain to rely on. Better figure out some way to monetize some of the skills and knowledge that I do have.

I probably am reasonably sharp in my own way, with too many interests, generally a pretty fast learner, and persistent as hell when things line up right. And I do have decent practical backup these days. Not gonna starve in the meantime, and can reasonably expect some support in whatever the hell I do settle on trying to make a buck at. That's what I can see as some things really working in my favor.

While indeed neurodivergent as fuck, in some ways that have ALWAYS made figuring what I might even be decent at, can maintain focus on, and keep up somewhat sustainably, very difficult. Oh yeah, and this should probably be something that somebody would be willing to pay me for. (Not even kidding, this has been a persistent problem since I was old enough to even start seriously considering the matter of what to do with my life.)

The general executive function bullshit, with getting and keeping shit together on your own, pretty much goes without saying. But, at least by now I am much more aware of what is even going on there, and that workarounds do mostly exist. That is one hell of an improvement for my 20s, to put it mildly. Same goes for a lot of the other brain/nervous system bullshit that's persistently gotten in my way.

I feel like I should try to come out with something more upbeat to say, because I know this whole screed is a fucking downer. But yeah, that's kinda where I've been a lot of the time lately. Hasn't been great for my mental health for a while now, and some of the brain loops have been wild. (I kinda keep coming back to that, but this is still significantly easier than around when I hit 25. Or pretty well all of my 20s. A lot better perspective and coping skills.)

But, I'll get over it and figure something out. I always eventually do.

[heliads]

Lisa, babe, it cannot be properly expressed how excited I am that you’re writing for Narnia now!! As such, I would like to present a request:

May I please ask for Peter Pevensie with a male Reader who’s one of the knights personally assigned with protecting the High King while the Pevensies are still in Narnia the first time?? Reader is completely smitten with Peter and they have a friend-like relationship, but Reader is way too scared to make a move because A) he doesn’t think he, a mere knight, is worthy of being a in a relationship with the High King, and B) he doesn’t even know if Peter likes guys, and that kind of thing may be fine in Narnia but he knows Peter’s from a different place and he can’t be sure. But when the Reader gets seriously injured protecting Peter during a battle and wakes up in the palace infirmary, Peter scolds him for doing reckless stuff like that and winds up confessing his feelings for the Reader in the process. And mayyybbbeee it ends with a cute little kiss??

Again, if you don’t want to write this it’s totally fine!! Hope you’re doing well, Lisa my beloved!! 💛💛💛

anything for peter and also for raven

masterlist

The High King of Narnia is swinging his sword in a lazy circle, eyes wide but still guarded. His easy expression is a trick, it usually is. Someone sees a boy when they should see a fighter. He lures you in by making you think that he’ll be someone you can kill. He isn’t.

His attacker rises to the bait and lunges for his throat. Peter Pevensie reacts in the nick of time, clanging steel against steel as he forces the sword away. The parry is fast, strong, the product of years of practice. It comes to him like breath:  quick, even, second nature. He probably isn’t thinking about it, just saves his own life by habit. 

The steps fall into place like dominoes. Strike, counterattack. Jerk backward, push forward. His attacker stumbles for a second, and Peter seizes his chance to lunge for the man’s chest. Sword would pierce armor, but it doesn’t. The man has drawn a second blade while Peter was distracted with an imminent victory, a knife that fits easily in his palm. The attacker side steps, then ducks under Peter’s outstretched arm to rise back up behind him and hold the blade to the king’s throat.

“You’re so dead,” you say, then shove the knife back in your belt loop so you can tap your finger against the base of his skull instead of using the sharp metal. “You keep getting distracted, what did I tell you? Always keep your eyes open.”

Peter groans, raising his free arm so he can wipe the sweat from his brow. “That’s unfair. You said we’d only be fighting with swords, not knives too.”

The back of his neck flushes an unhappy red as he says it, though, and after many years of being at his side you can tell what he’s thinking, hating himself for complaining. Kings don’t argue, they don’t preach right and wrong. They take what is given to them and they handle it with grace. Peter’s still trying to work on that bit.

“Life isn’t fair,” you tell him simply, grinning when he harrumphs, “and your opponents won’t be likely to stick to the rules when they’re trying to kill you. I’m just trying to make sure you stay alive in battle.”

Peter turns around, lips still pursed with displeasure but starting to creep up at the corners. “And I’m grateful for that, truly. Although I do swear you get more joy out of beating on me than most soldiers are supposed to.”

You arch a brow, feigning innocence. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” Peter says, looking like he’s using every bit of his royal patience not to roll his eyes. “Another round?”

“Ready as always,” you say, raising your sword once more.

Peter follows suit, shifting into a ready stance for one more round of sparring practice, one more chance to improve before the next calamity strikes the castle. Narnia is peaceful most of the time, but when it isn’t– well, anything can happen then.

That’s your job, then, to make sure the crown is protected in the case of disaster. There are four royals, four people for you to watch and carry through danger, but only one of them is your primary focus. Susan and Edmund and Lucy are still under your umbrella of attention, but you were specifically appointed to the personal guard of High King Peter. 

That’s why you’re out here now, training with him under the rising sun until the hour is up and he has to retreat inside again for diplomatic and political duties. Peter has told you several times before that he’d rather fight out here for longer and longer, which is why you make sure to keep careful track of the time. 

Without your monitoring eye, Peter would gladly spend far too long out in the training yard ‘by accident’ and miss his meetings. Then he’d feel guilty for abandoning his duty to his country, overthinking what he does because it’s only him and his siblings protecting the entire nation.

You have to protect him against not only enemy soldiers but himself as well, then. It’s not a burden you take lightly, but one you bear with pride. Peter is– well, he’s your king, obviously, but in the time since you were first given this position at his side, he’s also become your friend.

That was the easy part. Peter is a golden, lionhearted king, and to know him is to wish to get along with him. Peter does not make you feel the divide of royal to subject, king to soldier. He is just Peter, and you are just Y/N, and together, you are the finest men that Narnia could ever want.

What complicated everything was what happened after you got to know him. Peter makes it simple to like him. It also follows, then, that falling in love with him would be like second nature. You cannot decide just when it happened, between blows of your sword or stalking through the corridors of his castle or somewhere, anywhere else, but happen it did. 

Peter makes you stutter even when you’re most confident, he convinces your heart to skip a beat when it’s never been anything but steady. You suppose you should despise him for making you so unsure of yourself, but you have never been able to do anything but love him, so love him you shall indeed.

Perhaps there will be a day in the future when you let down your guard, accept the slow stroke of death towards your heart, and tell Peter how you feel. Perhaps he’d even love you back. You never know for sure.

There had been a time once, a few months back, when you almost convinced yourself that it could be real, him loving you. Peter had allowed himself to indulge in something foolish and borrowed a bottle of wine and two glasses from the castle stores. He’d dragged you up to the battlements, a secluded place where no one could see you, and the two of you had drunk and stared up at the stars.

You don’t think you could remember that night if you tried. Peter was tilting his head back, golden curls hanging low near his shoulders as he stared at the sky above. You stared at him instead; the stars looked best when they were reflected in his eyes, anyway, and it made for a prettier picture than any dark expanse of night.

It had occurred to you that Peter would never do this with anyone else. Let himself be free, that is. The two of you were laughing over something foolish and he was more yours than he had ever belonged to anybody. There were talks once, of Peter looking to foreign nations for a suitor, and he had shut them down quickly, looking to you for confirmation before any of his siblings. That meant something, didn’t it? It had to have meant something.

And for a moment there, wine sweet on your tongue, you convinced yourself that you could do it, you could have a king. He would be yours. You would be happy. The two of you would live and die in this castle, and for once in your life, everything would feel right.

The thought of it shocked you into sobriety. There is a problem at the base of all this, many problems all spiraling into one:  Peter is a king, and you are not. You are his faithful servant, the blade in his hands, but not a fellow ruler, never that. Peter is not in a position in which he can marry for love.

And, even if he was, who is to say that he would pick you? Peter is not from this land, and you know not the customs of the place where he was born. Men can marry other men in Narnia, but that is no guarantee in Peter’s mind. You would have no way of knowing for sure, he’s certainly never brought it up to you.

That night was a reminder you obviously needed, one that you would not be able to end up with Peter unless a miracle came your way. Until the impossible happens, though, until the sky falls and the moon rises with the sun, you’ll have to keep on hoping for a love that will never be yours.

Sometimes, though, sometimes you’re sure that he might like you back. You’re pondering the issue later that night, after your training session with Peter ends and hazy twilight falls upon the surrounding hills. You have slipped away from most of the crowds to a quieter place down the hall, and scarcely five minutes have passed from your departure before someone sits down next to you. Peter.

He grins at you, the light of the lamps shining gold upon his hair. “What, sick of us already?”

You laugh. “Just the noise. It’s been a long week.”

“Tell me about it,” Peter says, blowing out his breath in one slow whoosh. “I think I set a personal record today for the most meetings with cabinets and political figureheads.”

You laugh. He watches. “Don’t forget that we’ll be leaving early tomorrow for another diplomatic journey. If we’re lucky, we won’t have to be up before dawn.”

Peter grimaces. “Oh, I almost forgot about that. Glad to have you reminding me. What would I do without you? You had better not switch careers or I’ll be completely out of sorts.”

You shake your head. “I’d never leave, you won’t have to worry. I am a soldier. Soldiers follow their king.”

“In anything?” Peter asks, throat dry.

“Anything,” you tell him, “Anything that you ask of me.”

“Alright,” he says, and leans back again.

His sudden absence makes you feel cold again, and you can’t shake the thought that perhaps you’ve done something wrong. “Is– is that okay?”

“Y/N,” Peter says, slowly, tenderly, “it is perfect.”

He is busy after that, other soldiers call him away, but the feeling remains, burning inside your chest like a hot drink swallowed too quickly.

It is difficult to fall asleep that night, even though you need your rest. It’s just Peter out on this journey, he’ll be traveling to a nearby country to shore up relations. He does trips like this all the time, but that doesn’t stop them from being a royal pain.

You’re up early the next morning, riding next to Peter on your favorite horse. Other soldiers fill out your ranks, ensuring that Peter won’t be going alone. However, the party has hardly traveled for half an hour or so before you start spotting movement in the surrounding forest. There shouldn’t be anyone nearby, but that won’t stop robbers from congregating in the trees and waiting for a king to pass by.

One of your scouts ahead shouts that men have been spotted, and just like that, you’re under fire. Attackers descend from the sides of the road and you’re all flung into the thick of a battle. In the beginning, you’re directing blows at your enemies from your horse, but you see Peter dismount so he can help a fallen man and you jump off too. Where he goes, you go.

Peter heads further into the woods as he shifts his attention to the attackers on foot. You’re right behind him, just a few paces away, distracted by fighting the robber in front of you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Peter dueling another man. The guy is taller than Peter, meaner looking, and as Peter lunges for the man’s throat, his opponent pulls a knife from his belt and slashes–

At you. It’s your blood seeping through your armor, not Peter’s. Not Peter’s, because you pushed him out of the way just in time, forcing the blow to strike your chest instead of your king’s. An odd sense of deja vu descends upon you; is this not what happened in the training session just the other day? You’d teased Peter for letting his guard down, for expecting the best of people who weren’t willing to be as good and kind as he was.

Funny that he didn’t learn his lesson. He didn’t have to, you suppose; he assumed you would be there, and you were. As the blood pools on the ground beneath you– you don’t remember falling, but your head aches from hitting the packed earth– you can only hope through gritted teeth that he’ll be able to remember it when you’re not here.

You won’t be, that’s the problem. It wasn’t just a glancing blow that hit you, it was a targeted stab aimed in just the right place to kill. This isn’t something you can walk off. You’re bleeding out as you lay here and wonder why you didn’t see this being your last moment.

It feels an awful lot like martyrdom, dying for Peter. Better than you thought it would. It makes it easier, somehow, knowing that even as the dagger pierced your armor and painted itself over in the red of your blood, he will continue breathing, continue living. Peter’s heart will continue to beat even after yours stops. Isn’t that all you can give him in the end, everything?

Peter is leaning over you now, shouting at you to stay with him, please. You can’t quite hear him, though. It’s as if he’s speaking through a veil, not really there. He’s cradling your head in his hands, you think, but it’s so hard to focus, and so much easier to close your eyes and sleep. You’ll wake up in a moment, you just want one minute of rest. Haven’t you done enough to deserve that by now?

You do open your eyes, but it feels like a lot of time has passed. You’re still lying down, but it’s warmer than the cold earth of that forest. You stare around you with hesitant eyes, and it takes a little while for you to register your surroundings, the stone and light of the castle infirmary. You don’t remember being brought back here. You don’t even remember when it was a guarantee that you would survive.

Something is touching your hand, and you look over to realize that it’s Peter. He’s gripping your palm between his hands like it’s a rosary he can pray with. He looks overwhelmingly relieved to see you conscious, and tells you as much himself.

“Don’t you ever do something like that again,” he says, voice shaky.

You try for a smile. It hurts more than it should. “What, save your life? That’s what I’m supposed to do.”

Peter shakes his head fervently. “Not when it costs your life. That’s not worth it.”

“It is to me,” you tell him.

“But what am I supposed to do without you?” He asks desperately.

You laugh quietly. “You’re a king, Peter. I think you’d figure it out.”

“No,” he says, “no, I wouldn’t. I thought you were dead, Y/N. I had no idea what to do with myself. I can’t live in a world without you. I won’t.”

You slowly raise your eyes to meet his. “Does that mean–”

“Yes,” he says in a rush, “Yes, I love you. I hadn’t wanted to say it, but it’s true and I need you to know it now. I thought you were going to die without me ever telling you, and that made me want to bleed out next to you. You don’t have to feel the same way, but–”

“I do,” you tell him, “I do love you. I have for a long time.”

For a moment, Peter’s expression loses his intensity and he just looks indignant. “And you didn’t tell me?”

You chuckle again, it’s easier than it was before. “You didn’t tell me, either.”

“Yes, but–” Peter has to take a moment to collect himself before continuing. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I love you. I love you, and you’re not ever sacrificing yourself for me again.”

You try to tell Peter that you don’t remember agreeing to that last bit, but he silences your arguments with a kiss, and you’re alright with letting that sort of happy quiet sink over you. Perhaps impossibilities aren’t quite so far out of your reach after all.

requested by @starlit-epiphany, i hope you enjoy!

narnia tag list: empty for now!

[onewingedsparrow]

4, 6, and 7!

For this ask game @nocturnalfandomartist Hi Nocturne! Thank you for the ask! :D This is very long, hopefully you don't mind :) 4. Do you have beta? How important is it to the process? As a general rule: no. I have a naturally sharp eye for grammar, spelling, and cohesion. I prefer going through my writing myself with a fine-toothed comb, because beta reading my own fics helps me notice what I need to improve at a rate faster than someone else could point it out. Reading my writing aloud is something I also enjoy doing that helps me keep dialogue smooth, my syllables flowing, and my pacing watertight. In addition, because so many of my works are interconnected in an intricate spiral galaxy of depth and parallels and foreshadows and flashbacks and LORE, it's impossible for a beta reader to fully grasp all that I am intending to convey in any single story without reading...literally everything everywhere all at once which I am writing. No oneshot of mine is truly a oneshot. :) However, I don't discount the benefits of beta reading! Editor feedback is valuable for pointing out subconscious habits of mine and improvements to my flow that I can make. It also is valuable in reinforcing my writing voice; I have learned very quickly what sentence structures I am not willing to compromise on, lol. I use what I learn from other endeavors to enhance my fandom writing. I also make an effort to continue reading published books, articles, screenplays, etc. in addition to posted fanfiction. While fanfiction is in no way "inferior" to published work, there is much to learn from published work that has passed through gateways of editing that fanfiction slips by. In other words, just because my fics are deliberately not beta read doesn't mean that I aim to let my writing stay stagnant. I am still learning and will always be learning. Only a few of my fics will be jestingly tagged as "No beta we die like X"—typically older ones from my "Throwback Archive" that I don't care about cleaning up. They're the equivalent of rough sketches, so they don't need to be anywhere near my usual standards for posting. For my giant Fire Emblem fic*, however, I'm worldbuilding with someone in particular. Once I complete a few drafts of the entire massive story, I will have him alone beta read that, in order to get his feedback on keeping the giant cast all in-character, keeping the route-crossing satisfactory, etc. *This is not posted yet and will not be for a while. It's my fanfic magnum opus. It will be hundreds of thousands of words and multiple books long. And, since I am a plantser, I can't share portions of it because it is all written and drafted out-of-order. I can't wait to drop the entire story on AO3 someday. That will be a glorious day.

6. Post links to your 3 fav fics: Well, all my proper "favorites" are the giant ones that haven't been posted yet. (The Three Houses one, Under My Wings, and the secret sparkling project.) My posted "favorites" differ day by day, depending on what mood I'm in. "To Bee a Leader" is ever dear to my heart. But, at present, I am partial to "Where Sorrow Rings" (FE Engage, during-canon angst) "Reigniting" (TLoZ Ocarina of Time during-canon drabble) "もう少しだけ"　(Death Note during-canon drabble)

7. How do you write emotional scenes? Do you ever feel what the characters feel? Do you draw from personal experiences? I am invested in what is called "third-person deep POV." I love getting into the head, heart and soul (or, as Transformers would call all three together, the spark) of characters and wresting out their deepest thoughts, feelings, and very being. Line by line, droplet by droplet, I fish it out out of their darkened depths. So, yes, I feel what the characters feel. If I don't feel what the characters feel as I write, then my readers won't either as they read. That is one of my goals in writing characters within third-person deep POV: to make the readers feel what the characters are. Obviously, I can't 1:1 relate to everything my characters go through. Moreover, I hope I don't, since some of them go through some pretty nasty messes I wouldn't wish on anyone. 😂 But, I will thoroughly analyze my characters' perspectives from their shoes and see if anything across my personal experiences can be either directly or distantly relatable to that, and begin composing from there.

[kidmachinate]

Laugh At Thyself

Sometimes, you have to poke fun at life. There are two ways I did this recently and one of them isn’t going to get a ton of context as it is truly nobody’s business, even for the single digit people that likely see this. The first is a bit complex and ties in my personal thoughts with things that something brought to my attention in a non ideal scenario.

Some time back, I shared a Fear Factory song on my profile and it shall stay there most likely for some time. It’s poking fun at myself for multiple reasons. Being a people pleaser, wanting to help where I can, and so on. Most importantly, and what the song is about, which is having a purpose. Dino Cazares has stated the song Martyr is about someone that dies with a purpose. If I died today, would I have fulfilled my purpose? Am I entering a mid-life crisis and that’s why I’m asking this stuff? I can poke fun at myself as well as laugh at anyone thinking there is some hidden agenda or self righteousness behind literally who I am as a person. My best friend confirmed that wanting to help people has been a staple for over two decades, for better or worse. This all leads into the second thing I did to deal.

A month or so ago, I decided to lend voice talent to a fan dub of my second favorite game of all time, Castlevania: Symphony of the Night. I took up the role of Dracula as I thought I could do better justice to that vs one of the good roles. Combine this with what people say about “entering their villain arc” when they are actually setting healthy boundaries for themselves. I thought, here’s another way I can poke fun at myself, or let the wrong people think I’m doing bad things. How is helping bad? Ask the wrong person and they will find a reason. I’m also willing to bet anyone that fits this category doesn’t quite have it figured out themselves…but really, in today’s world, who does? Also, it was a personal challenge to be brave and not as shy to do certain things.

One could make the argument that self deprecating humor is bad. While that is likely correct, this allows not just for self realization to some extent but also perhaps comfort in the right company that may suffer from the same issues you may be dealing with. Damn, there goes my brain not working again. My memory is terrible! I looked up x article to confirm if I knew what I was talking about or not and confirmed I did…but what do I know? In a world that sometimes even rejects facts, it’s important to keep your sanity somehow, even if it may not be the “best” way to treat yourself.

There’s value in giving yourself compassion, truly. But instead of beating yourself up over perhaps dropping something or forgetting something for the thousandth time, maybe there is room for laughing about it with the right company. Becoming a jester of sorts about your own life quirks keeps you sharp and on point. You can swap between success and then laughing at failure and using those moments as stepping stones to propel yourself towards success. I’m perfectly prepared for loss along the way. Not everyone wants to improve after all, but stagnancy is boring and not for me. This is no shade, truly. I wish most decent people the best. Our paths however will look very different. The basic principle of not sitting still doesn't align with me and therefore, we might not be the right fit. We can move on with grace. Or, I suppose like some do, post about it on the internet and make it a whole big scene that it doesn’t need to be…because what do I know, right?

Let's end on a high note. The only person that should be treating you unfairly is you. If a person or job insists otherwise, burn the bridge and laugh doing it. You're worth it, always.

[solomonish]

You Burned So Brightly (Simeon x Reader)

Simeon has fallen, and he left his memories in the Realm that cast him down. They sent him straight back to you, but nothing is ever that easy.

ao3 link: here!

With a single, brilliant streak of light across the Devildom sky, the battles that were on the brink of becoming a second war came to a halt. Smoke curled up in the distance, light and airy like nothing you've ever seen before. The demons near the impact seemed to itch, the holy energy burning off into the air burning their skin. In the middle of a small crater, barely bigger in diameter than the fallen angel was in height, Simeon struggled to bring himself to his knees. As you stood before the impact site, Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon and Lucifer near your side, you did your best to avoid cringing at Simeon's groans of pain.

Diavolo called for his attention, his authoritative voice only engaged for the sake of the surrounding, curious citizens. After a moment, Simeon forced his head up, clear blue eyes scanning the crowd. His eyes fell to you last, and though he held his gaze for a long time, recognition never flashed within him.

Simeon had fallen, and he left his memories in the Celestial Realm.

---

Barbatos led you to the room where Simeon was staying, informing you of any progress he and Diavolo had made and updating you on their search for a suitable place for him to live. Vaguely, you heard Barbatos ask if you agreed that a nice, cozy area on the outskirts of town would be nice, preferably something with enough yard space for a small garden. You hummed in agreement, and even though the both of you knew you had no say in the matter, Barbatos still gave you a displeased glance. He knew you weren't listening.

He stopped outside the door, hand faltering before the doorknob when you called out to him. Green eyes as impassive as always, he turned towards you fully and let his hand fall to his side. Before speaking, you glanced at his eyebrows and nearly sighed in relief to see his eyebrows weren't furrowed in the slightest. Despite the side-eyes and rather tense atmosphere, he wasn't truly mad at you.

Keeping your voice low, you asked, "Does he remember any of the exchange program?"

Barbatis kept his expression flat, but he did jut his chin just a hint, the closest thing you would get to a frown. "Bits and pieces. Nothing new."

"Why does he still only remember things in fragments?"

There was a pause. This was information you were permitted to know; but just because Barbatos was allowed to tell you did not mean he should. Still, you were notorious for snooping around and getting what you wanted anyway. "We believe he had too much sensitive information about the Celestial Realm, but the job was done in haste to bring the battles to a close."

"Oh." You didn't have any expectations set for his response, but you still felt a heavy stone, similar to disappointment, settle in your stomach. Perhaps dread was more appropriate - though anymore, your gut was always tied in knots and your emotions were just as jumbled. "Does it hurt him?"

"Physically? No," Barbatos answered, reaching for the doorknob again. You opened your mouth to ask for more details, but Barbatos gave you a look that said, clearly, you'll see. Shutting your mouth, you squared your shoulders and allowed him to open the door.

The room, grand yet somehow seeming plain for a palace's guest room, looked the same as it had all the times before. None of the chairs moved from their expertly-placed positions in the room, having been unoccupied for the entirety of Simeon's stay. Each book was nestled into its place in its case, and not a single gap ruined the uniform, brick-like image of the surrounding bookshelves. Even the bedsheets, still perfectly tucked beneath the mattress, looked unused, the only crinkles in the sheets coming from directly beneath the occupant.

Simeon sat in the middle of the bed, knees drawn to his chest and arms resting atop them. You could see his blue eyes surveying the room, a change from the past days but not exactly an improvement. The aura surrounding him was menacing, and if you strained your ears you could almost hear a low growl. Despite sitting in one spot for days like a scared animal, Simeon never felt more like a predator.

"Hello, Simeon," You said. You moved to sit on the edge of the bed, but Barbatos' hand on your shoulder stopped you. When you turned to look at him, he was already shaking his head. This was as close to Simeon as you would be allowed to get.

"You're back," Simeon noted, his voice devoid of any fondness. It was still the same pitch as before, but it no longer sounded like a delicate tune carried on the warm summer breeze. Instead, it felt more like a warning shot, sharp and threatening yet drawing no blood. He sounded dangerous.

"I am. I was hoping you might remember something new, but...it seems that's not the case."

Simeon looked you up and down before scoffing. "What makes you think you're so memorable?"

Not wanting to anger him, you chuckled in response, hoping it didn't sound as awkward as it felt. Simeon's eyes never left your form, and you missed the way his pupils widened, almost like a cat's.

You could hear him murmur under his breath, "Perhaps I could recognize you by the way you taste…" It was a poor attempt at intimidation, but it was intimidation nonetheless. When you looked up at Simeon, his pupils were blown wide, making his eyes almost entirely black. Instinctively you stepped back, watching as Simeon unfolded himself for the first time in days.

Barbatos' grip on your shoulder tightened right as Simeon pounced, pushing you behind him as he chanted some spell you'd never heard before. Though the attack seemed to move in slow motion, he ushered you out all too quickly, slamming the door shut and locking it physically before casting another spell. Right as he finished speaking, something solid slammed against the door, and you could hear Simeon snarling on the other side.

"He's reconciling," Barbatos explained vaguely. "He's not used to craving human souls, or to the shifting energies inside him. Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"Good. Come with me. We'll have to report what happened."

Though you didn't want to, you followed Barbatos again down the hall, this time taking care to trail a bit behind in your own petty act of defiance.

You knew, at least for a while, that you would not be seeing Simeon again.

---

When you were permitted to visit him again, you were relieved. Whatever rehabilitation efforts Diavolo and Barbatos were working on took longer than you thought, and days stretched into weeks until you were wondering if they were losing hope in his recovery as you were. Of course, the pair had more information than you did, but in a situation that seemed as dire as this, your worry was warranted.

The hallway you walked countless times before was the same as always, yet you found yourself surveying the walls. Barbatos was not relaying any information to you this time, which was strange; clearly, if you were allowed to see Simeon again, progress had been made and there was information to give. But you were eager to get in the room, so you didn’t waste time with questions that would be answered firsthand and allowed Barbatos to open the door for you anyway.

Stepping into the guest room, it finally looked more lived in than the last time. The desk on the opposite wall, surrounded by bookcases, had a few papers and pens scattered around it, something like an outline lying face-up in the middle. A few books had been removed from the shelves, their neighbors slumping over in the void they left. Simeon was in one of the plush armchairs in the room, a book in his hands with his eyebrows furrowed. His posture was slumped, nothing like the practiced perfection he had as an angel.

You took a few steps into the room, noticing how Simeon stiffened yet did not take his eyes away from the book in his hands. Barbatos stepped into the room, the door shutting with a click. He made no effort to be within arm’s reach of you, but you could still feel his protective presence over your shoulder.

Barbatos cleared his throat, and Simeon begrudgingly put his book down, eyes falling immediately to you. “Simeon, as I’m sure you can see, MC has arrived to see you again.”

Simeon looked blatantly unamused. “So you have,” He murmured, pushing on the arms of the chair to straighten his posture. You sat tentatively on the edge of the bed, eyeing the space between the two of you.

You could feel the lapse in his memories as if it was a palpable tension in the air. The way Simeon held you in his gaze, distrusting, wondering why a human was so interested in him and why you were not a welcome meal was enough to send shivers down your spine. Fighting the urge, you turned to take in the room, hoping for something interesting to comment on. “I see you’re outlining something. Could you have remembered something for the next installment of TSL?”

“Those books…” Simeon was eyeing the outline on the desk, but he trailed off and darted his eyes back to you distrustfully before he could continue. You felt something left unsaid, but had no idea what it could be.

“We’ve tried using them to jog his memory,” Barbatos explained. “It didn’t work.”

Though Simeon masterfully used clear inspirations from real life, such caricatures of the brothers and their lives must have been a difficult idea to unlearn. Briefly, you wondered if you had been made into a character in the series yet. Part of you hoped you weren’t. It would probably be better if you built your relationship with him from the ground up - no matter how long it may take or how painful it may be.

For once, Simeon appeared bashful, averting his gaze again. “I do remember some of the plot points, though,” he murmured. “I just don’t know what they mean.”

Before anybody could stop you, you reached out and placed a hand on Simeon’s knee. His body was cold like the brothers’, enough to seep through his clothes and draw your attention. You missed the comforting warmth he used to carry. You missed when he would look at you and you didn’t feel like he hated you, too.

“Maybe they don’t mean anything anymore,” You offered, ignoring Barbatos’ piercing stare. Whether he was warning you to keep your hand away or keep your thoughts to yourself, you didn’t know, but you didn’t pay attention to either warning. “Maybe now they’re just stories, and life gets to be something else.”

When you contacted Diavolo about seeing Simeon again, he warned you the meeting would not be long. Still, the way Barbatos ushered you out felt as though he were cutting your time short as punishment for potentially risking their endeavors to restore Simeon’s memories. Before he shut the door on you, you looked back to see Simeon staring at his knee, thinking over what you said. No lecture came from Baratos, but if it had, it wouldn’t have mattered.

From that day on, Simeon started venturing out of his room.

You heard from Lucifer one night, having pestered him after another night of returning home late from the castle, that Simeon had taken to wandering the halls by himself. He never took anything, never seemed to intend to cause problems, and instead took his time taking in every painting. Every time one of the staff members went to check on him and found his room empty, the entire castle went on lockdown, yet when Simeon was made aware of this he merely seemed amused. You asked why nobody was locking the door, and Lucifer gave you an exasperated expression. Like a pet rat, Simeon kept finding ways to unlock the door so he could roam. Perhaps that was why Barbatos seemed to be having such a hard time recently.

With his newfound desire to adapt - and the trust that, in the backwards fashion you came to expect from the Devildom, came from him being alone in the castle without ruining something, even if his escape was counterintuitive to building trust in him - Little Ds were used to tend to him when higher-ranking demons were busy. The only time somebody checked in on him was to evaluate his mental state and to safeguard your visits. Those, too, were slowly becoming less formal, and soon you were going to the castle and simply being pointed in the direction to his room, rather than being led.

You knocked on his door, unsurprised to hear silence on the other end. However, this was the first time it happened and you were alone. Though you were trusted and respected (among the nobility, anyway) in the Devildom, wandering aimlessly around the castle didn’t seem like the smartest idea. A small pattering of footsteps behind you caught your attention, and you turned to see a Little D standing behind you. His horns were curled like Satan’s, his eyes burning green as if a fire was lit behind them. You smiled at him, and he only tilted his head - as much as he could, anyway.

“Have you seen Simeon?” You asked him, hoping he’d be one of the easy-going ones. After studying you for a moment, the Little D only nodded. Talkative, no, but you were right on him being relaxed. Following his lead, you soon found yourself in one of the smaller sections of the castle garden. The Little D floated over the twisting roots and vines underfoot, sparing you no time to step over and around the obstacles. By the time you found him again, he was waiting impatiently at an opening between a line of small trees, leading to a courtyard with an overgrown fountain in the middle. He left in the middle of your breathless thanks, which you finished in a sigh.

Simeon heard and turned towards you, his attention pulled from one of the broken busts on a pedestal. “Hello. If I had known I’d have a visitor today, I would have waited for you.”

His greetings were slowly becoming more friendly, you noticed. Smiling at him, you made your way over to him, thankful for the worn stone beneath your feet instead of the purposeful overgrowth behind you. “What are you doing out here?”

Simeon shrugged. “I’ve grown tired of the same hallways and that room.”

“Not willing to explore different hallways? I hear they get pretty exciting in the east wing.”

He smirked at that. “Even I know not to venture there. I have no interest in pushing my luck.”

Turning back to the bust, you watched him grip his chin thoughtfully. You wondered if that was a trait of all wrath demons, considering their lord, or if it was merely an impulse based on him being well-read. In this moment, he looked startlingly like Satan, a fact that both calmed you and worried you. Satan was a good influence for him, sure - but the more he influenced Simeon, the less like himself Simeon would turn out to be.

“You’re thinking pretty loudly over there,” Simeon said, and for a moment, you thought you heard that gentleness that you were used to. “Would you like to share your thoughts?”

“I was just thinking about how Satan has been helping your transition,” You answered in an obvious half-truth. “Has he lent you any good books?”

“All of his recommendations seemed a bit on the nose for my situation,” Simeon answered bluntly. You laughed, short and unexpected. He smiled. “But I do appreciate the help.”

“Do you need the books in the same way he does?” You asked. Simeon stiffened slightly, the only indication that he was uncomfortable. But, for you, he didn’t deny you an answer.

“I don’t remember much about who I was before. I know how angels were supposed to be, but none of it feels like me. The only thing that feels like me is this wrath, but even then, it isn’t as strong as his, I’m sure.”

You had nothing to say to that, instead turning to examine the bust. The features were worn down, much like the rest of the details. Instead, it was a vague person-shape, the head misshapen from what used to be the hair and arms missing since the beginning. Beside, Simeon murmured under his breath, “Even though I’m reconstructing where he was constructing, I can’t help but feel we might end up more similar than either of us expect.”

Simmering just beneath his words, you thought you could hear just a tinge of...something. Regret? Sorrow? Whatever it was, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was falling into the same line of thinking you often found Satan grappling with, wondering if a personality crafted as a wall was hardly a personality at all. You would assure Simeon as often as you assured Satan if he needed it, but you also knew that this was different. Simeon had you around before he decided who to become, and you knew the person he used to be. If it was what he wanted, you could - you would - help him down a similar path.

But you knew better than to say so. Instead, you stared at the faceless bust before you and gave him the space to figure it out for himself.

---

The memories taken from Simeon were officially gone, Diavolo and Barbatos decided, at least gone enough that they could not reach them without risking Simeon’s wellbeing. Though there was now an extra layer of animosity between them, they still considered him a friend (if not a former one) and had no desire to hurt him. Besides, the battles were over. There was no need to send a message of power via an ex-angel the Celestial Realm no longer cared about. With no need to keep him close in the castle, and a hesitant trust in his adjustment to the Devildom, Diavolo offered him a modest home on the outskirts with a small yard, just like he was considering before. It was close to the castle, though not close enough that the wealthier inhabitants would cause a fuss about favoritism. Even though the exterior was dark, you were pleased to see it resembled a cottage more than its neighbors. Beside you, Satan commented about how charming and quaint it was - you agreed without really hearing him.

As Satan knocked on the door, you drummed your fingers nervously on the vase in your hands. Barbatos mentioned something about Simeon liking to garden, but did he even remember? You knew he wouldn’t remember the time he first encountered the plant in your hands. It was a type of Tiny Venus Flytrap, one that needed to feed constantly on a microorganism in the air. It was constantly opening and closing its leaves, and Simeon spent at least half an hour cooing over one when he first saw it. You remembered the melodious chuckle that kept ringing through the greenhouse, and a sudden twinge of pain struck through you when you realized he wouldn’t.

As if on cue, Simeon opened the door, looking perturbed at the interruption but softening when he saw you and Satan in the doorway. “Oh, I forgot you were coming over today,” He said, stepping aside to let the two of you in. Though you didn’t think Simeon would lie about such a thing, the cleanliness of the house and the tea brewing in the kitchen planted a small seed of doubt in your mind.

“We thought we’d offer you a few housewarming gifts,” Satan responded. The smile he gave was easy, expertly hiding how just minutes before he had nearly knocked down a wall in the House of Lamentation and was more than willing to use the trip as an excuse to escape his brothers. Simeon chuckled, no doubt catching a hint of the hidden meanings behind his words. At least his perceptiveness wasn’t affected by his fall.

“Oh? Gifts?”

“Yeah. Your bookshelves look bare, so I thought you’d like a headstart on your collection.”

“Thank you,” Simeon answered, reaching for the box in Satan’s hands. You watched his entire body crumple for a moment, unsuspecting of the weight in his hands. He recovered quickly, but not before huffing out, “Oh, there’s quite a lot in here, huh?”

Satan didn’t seem bothered by his breathlessness - if anything, he looked amused. You almost reached out to help, but remembered your own human strength wouldn’t do much. Plus, you still had a fragile vase in your hands. Simeon placed the box on the ground, opening the flaps and peering inside. He wasn’t able to hide the beginning of a frown when he saw copies of his own books on top, and quickly moved those out of the way. He seemed much more pleased with the other options.

“Thank you. I suppose I won’t have to spend a long time finding my own additions to these shelves,” Adding a good-natured chuckle to the end of his sentence, Simeon turned towards you. “What do you have there?”

“Oh! It’s a Tiny Venus Flytrap. You-” Stopping short, you glanced at the copies of TSL on the floor and cleared your throat. “You don’t have to feed it much. Just put it in a window that gets a lot of moonlight and water once during each waxing gibbous.”

Curiously, Simeon reached for the plant and cradled it in his hands. He brushed his thumbs over the glazed vase, the blue so dark it nearly looked like black ink. Tentatively, he put his finger on one of the leaves and let out a boyish giggle as it closed around him. You laughed too, pleased to see history repeating itself.

“This is absolutely darling, MC. Thank you,” He didn’t meet your eyes, still entranced by the movement of the leaves. When you looked at Satan, he was giving you a mischievous look. On the way to the house, you told him about your plan to try and jog Simeon’s memories, and he had been hesitant to say that your plan would work. If it didn’t, you certainly succeeded in testing to see if part of the old Simeon was still around.

The tea kettle whistled in the kitchen, and Simeon finally snapped his head up from his new pet plant. “I’ll put this little guy in the kitchen window, seeing as it gets the most moonlight,” He explained, scurrying over with the same dainty walk he had before. You watched him carefully as he adjusted his plant, giving it an affectionate pat before tending to the tea. As he pulled out a budget tea set you’ve definitely seen in the bargain shop before, you tried to hide the guilt on your face. Back at the House of Lamentation, in a box beneath your bed, was Simeon’s old set, still in pristine condition in its white and gold glory. You were glad you decided against bringing that as a gift - looking around at your dark surroundings, it didn’t seem like it would fit in.

You could hold on to your little memories for a while longer, you thought. Simeon didn’t seem to be making use of anything regarding his past anyway.

---

When Simeon opened the door after summoning you to his house, you weren’t expecting his new outfit.

Diavolo had him fitted in some black, plain clothes - something to cover him without drawing too much attention to him. However, now that he had enough time to get used to his surroundings and accept his new life as a demon, he also had enough time to craft a new look for himself.

You weren’t expecting that to include a dark, cool-colored, patterned button down, tucked into black pants with most of the buttons undone.

Nearly choking on your own spit the moment he opened the door, you allowed him to usher you in and rub your back hesitantly. After he thought you had collected yourself - and yes, at that point you stopped choking, but you were still reeling at the image of his chest (did some part of him really need to be exposed at all times?) - he asked, “Do you not like my clothes?”

His voice sounded just as devastatingly sad as a demon. “N-no, they’re fine! I just…” You began gesturing towards his exposed chest and even his midriff before getting embarrassed and dropping your hand. “I wasn’t expecting all that.”

“Oh, here,” Simeone buttoned up three buttons, which did absolutely nothing, and opened the back door to his small yard. “Thanks for agreeing to help me.”

You swallowed thickly and nodded, eyes still on his chest as you walked outside.

The Devildom was known for its warm temperatures, and as you helped him prepare the dirt you quickly found your school shirt uncomfortable as it stuck to your skin. Before long, you slipped it off, thankful for the tank top you decided to wear beneath it, and got back to work. The two of you engaged in an easy conversation, but every so often you’d realize Simeon’s eyes stayed on you for a moment too long. Normally, you wouldn’t consider yourself some irresistible temptation, but he was new to being a demon. Any time he’d reach towards you to help you or borrow a tool, you had to fight the urge to flinch. By the time he offered you a break, you had nearly jumped out of your skin too many times to count.

Spent from the labor, you stayed on the grass while he went to get a drink, coming back with a large glass of water that you graciously accepted. As you drank, he watched you intently - or, more specifically, he watched your left shoulder.

“Uh, are you okay?” You asked cautiously. “You’ve been staring a lot.”

He looked genuinely surprised to have been caught. “Have I? I apologize.” His eyes ran over your pact marks where they peeked out from beneath your shirt before falling on your shoulder again. “What’s that scar?”

“Hm?” Glancing down at your shoulder, you could barely make out the shape of an eye scarred on your skin. Honestly, you hadn’t even noticed it before he brought it up. After all, the mark that had been there was purposely difficult to see when he made the vow of protection, so you hadn’t even noticed when it turned to scar tissue. Still, the thought saddened you, and you reach to cover it with your opposite hand. “Oh, that. You gave it to me.”

“I did?” His eyes widened, and he started to toy with one of the buttons attached to his shirt. “I’m- I’m so sorry, MC, I don’t remember-”

“No no no, it’s not like that. I didn’t mean-” He stood up abruptly, not allowing you to finish. His expression was dark, a cross between furious and devastated, and he turned to head back inside. You could imagine his footsteps searing the dry Devildom grass as he stalked away.

“Feel free to let yourself out. Thank you for your help.” He left you sitting in his yard, and you rubbed your scar aimlessly. Though it was just a phantom feeling, it seemed to throb in pain just from his reaction.

---

Simeon offered to walk you home after an RAD party after Diavolo asked all the brothers to stay back for student council business. After months of slowly building your relationship back up again, he was finally comfortable being around you, confident in his ability to reign in his wrath (or at least his speed so he could run far from you if he needed to.) He purposely shortened his strides, the walk taking a much longer time than it normally did. In his company, though, with his easy laughter and your banter, you didn’t mind one bit.

It wasn’t until you finally reached the gates to the house that he let his expression somber. “Hey, MC?” He asked tentatively, as if worried he was intruding. “I know you aren’t supposed to tell me much about my old life, but…” His eyes fell to your scar, which your outfit did nothing to hide.

“Simeon, it’s not like that. You didn’t carve it into me, or anything.”

“Then how did I scar you?”

You sighed. “It used to be an angelic pact. You would-” Did he know about his prophetic abilities as an angel? After clicking your tongue in thought, you corrected yourself. “You were just trying to protect me. We didn’t know this would happen.”

If Simeon cared about your hesitation and how obviously you were hiding information, he didn’t show it. Instead, he asked, “Did it hurt, then? When it turned from a promise into a wound?”

Yes, you wanted to say. Just minutes before you heard that he fell, you felt the pain in your shoulder, but you were too busy tending the wounds of others to really pay attention to the pain. You had forgotten about it until Simeon noticed the scar all that time ago, and ever since you had convinced yourself that it throbbed, wanting to turn back into the vow it could never be.

Instead, you smiled at him. “No. I forgot about it until you said something, remember?”

But your smile was too thin, and it betrayed you.

---

You were not supposed to be doing this. However, you had turned your phone off, so the brothers couldn’t talk you out of something so stupid.

You and Simeon hunkered down in the Botanical Gardens long after close, figuring it was a random enough spot that nobody would find you for a while. Hunkered between your favorite type of flytraps, you let Simeon ask you the questions he’s been dying to find answers for since he fell. Each question you answered, telling him about the exchange program and his roommates and all of the memories you held in your heart, safekeeping for the day you could give them back to him.

After all, the way Luke’s face crumpled when he realized that Simeon truly didn’t remember him was something you wanted to avoid seeing again altogether.

There were parts you didn’t know the details of, bits of information that made Simeon’s expression darken, but he urged you to continue, desperate to learn about the voids inside of him he could never figure out how to fill. It wasn’t until you could hear people outside, too close to finding you for you to escape, that you stopped, and even by then your throat was dry and sore.

Before you left to give yourselves up, Simeon reached out and grabbed your hand. There was a serious look in his eyes, and you gulped. “Make a pact with me.”

“What?” You asked. “Simeon, you’re still-”

“I know. But we’re starting to cause trouble, and-” He looked to your arm, where one of the brothers’ marks slipped out from beneath your t-shirt sleeve. “I don’t want them to use their pacts over me. And I trust that you won’t use me just because I haven’t made a true pact before.”

Well, that last part was a given. Maybe it was the sound of Mammon’s voice getting closer, or maybe it was the intensity of his gaze - either way, you fell to your knees so you could be level with him again and nodded. There was an uncomfortable warmth on your shoulder, something that started off soothing but became too hot and prickled at your skin. Before you could look at the mark, Simeon reached for your face and pulled you in, kissing you with a heat he never had during the program and before his fall. Mammon and Leviathan chose this moment to burst in, their shouts falling at the image before them.

Leviathan was the first to speak, grumbling about gross normies in a tone that was clearly giving way to his sin. Mammon came to his senses a few moments later, yelling at Simeon about keeping his hands off. He reached for your arm, pulling you away roughly before shouting directly in your ear, “Hey! What’s the deal with this?”

He was pointing at your exposed left shoulder, where, over the scar, a dark pact mark sat. You were slightly unsettled at how foreboding it looked when you knew it was a twisted distortion of some angelic imagery, but one look at Simeon’s please cheshire grin eased your worries.

---

“So, about those battles…” Simeon trailed off. You were at his house, reading some books in his collection but really just using the trip as an excuse to lay with your head in Simeon’s lap. In one hand, he held a copy of his books, trying to regain some of his memories through their words again. The other was carding through your hair, distracting you from your own book - something random you had plucked off the shelves, eager to get to your spot on the couch.

“You know I’m not supposed to tell you anything about that.”

“You weren’t supposed to tell me a lot of things, and yet…” He flicked your left shoulder. You sighed, resting your open book on your chest.

“What do you want to know?” He opened his mouth, but you interrupted him before he could get anything out. “Be specific. I can’t give you the full history of everything. I don’t even know if I know the full history of everything.”

Simeon smiled, tapping his fingers on you mindlessly. “Can you tell me about the battle I fell from?” He noticed how your smile faltered, and when you looked away, he reached to guide your eyes back to his. “Is something wrong?”

You unfurled his fingers and pressed his palm to your cheek, nuzzling into it. “It was over me.”

“Oh.” His voice got significantly smaller, and he asked, “What did you do…?”

“I wasn’t just me!” Playfully, you swatted at his arm, half hoping to dispel the awkwardness hovering in the air. Settling down, you clarified, “It was more...what we did.”

Simeon filled in some of the gaps himself. “I was in love with you.”

“I know, right? You have no taste.” He flicked your nose this time, and you stuck your tongue out at him. “Wait, was?!”

“Stay on topic, little lamb,” He urged gently. When you looked up at him, silently indicating for him to continue his questions, he asked, “So, what, did I lose? Was I condemned for fighting against the Celestial Realm?” That would be a noble fall, he decided. He could make peace with that.

But your face fell again, and your voice got serious. “Simeon...you were fighting against me. You were fighting for the Celestial Realm.”

“What?” Truly aghast, he placed his hand on your cheek again, applying no force but keeping your gaze on his as if you’d stop talking if you looked away. “Why?”

Part of you didn’t know, and that part would never know. Not if Simeon really never regained his memories, anyway. Dejectedly, you shrugged and answered, “I don’t know for sure. But I think you were trying to fight for the fate of my soul. You thought you were fighting for me.”

“How can you know?” You hated the way his voice shook, but didn’t draw any attention to it. “How can you know what I was thinking when I don’t even know?”

“Because I trust you, Simeon. I trusted you then and I trust you now.”

He nodded, but you could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t entirely convinced. Perhaps Diavolo and Baratos were on to something when they warned you not to indulge his questions. His hand went back to slowly messing with your hair, but there was a reluctance to it that told he was only trying to ease your own worries. You could guess what he was thinking - you were probably thinking the same thing, torn apart by a relationship that only seemed to exist to defy every rule that ever existed.

Wherever you went and whatever you did, if he was to follow you and love you, it felt like you would never know peace.

But if you already fought each other, fought for each other, what else was there that you couldn’t handle?

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

You Don’t Own Me (You Don’t Even Know Me)

Chapter 3

Summary:  As the son of a Baron, Roman Sanders always knew that when he married, it would be due to a political arrangement rather than true love. Still, when he is sent away to marry an older, more powerful Earl, he is determined to make the best of his situation. Despite the Earl’s indifference towards him, Roman forges ahead and prepares to become the best husband he can possibly be, making new friends along the way. But when his fiancé’s demeanor turns from cold to cruel, Roman must shift all of his focus to survival, and find a way out of his marriage before it’s too late.

Ships: Logince (Logan x Roman)  Moxiety (Virgil x Patton)

Content Warnings: arranged marriage, abuse, attempted sexual assault, murder, poisoning, character death, hurt/comfort, angst

Chapter Warnings: none

Word Count: 2689

Read on AO3: here!

Cowritten with @ironwoman359 masterlist

False masterlist

A sharp knock pulled Roman from a fitful sleep, and he groaned, cracking open one eyelid.

“Who is it?” He called blearily. 

“Patton, sir!”

“Come in, then,” Roman said around a yawn, and Patton entered the room. 

“Good morning Lord- Roman!” He said, quickly correcting himself. “I trust you had a good night’s sleep?”

“I've certainly had worse,” Roman admitted, stretching. “Do you need something?” 

Patton nodded, clasping his hands behind his back. 

“His lordship requests that you meet him at the stables this morning for a ride around the grounds. New riding clothes and boots should be in your wardrobe.” 

Roman raised an eyebrow. Three days of near pretending he didn’t exist, and now Lord Howard wanted to take a romantic ride around the grounds together?

 “Very well, I will be ready shortly,” Roman said, then he frowned as Patton turned to leave. “Patton, wait…”

Patton paused, looking back at him. Roman hesitated for a moment, but the housekeeper had said anything he needed...

“Could I...that is, do you know what happened to my clothes? The ones I brought with me, I mean?” 

Patton’s face twisted in sympathy. 

“Oh, um...well, I...” he looked away, and guilt flickered through his eyes. “Mrs. Wakefield, she...she told me to burn them.” Roman’s eyes widened, but Patton quickly continued, “I didn’t, though! I snuck them into the laundry when she wasn’t looking...I was planning on taking them down to a charity shop in town when I could get an afternoon free. It...it didn’t feel right, to have perfectly good clothes like that thrown out when someone could still use them.” 

Roman sucked in a breath. “There’s one thing,” he said quietly, leaning closer. “A cloak, torn at the hem, is it...do you think I could get it back?” 

Patton glanced behind him, as if Mrs. Wakefield herself might suddenly materialize in the room. 

“I...if Lord Howard sees you wearing it, I-“

“I won’t wear it,” Roman promised. “And the rest of the clothes, you can go ahead and give away. I don’t want any trouble, I just...I don’t want to lose it for good.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Patton said, and Roman smiled.

“Thank you, Patton, I’m truly grateful. Now...I must admit, I don’t quite know my way around the estate yet. Would you be able to show me to the stables?” 

Patton perked up at that, his face splitting into a wide grin. 

“I’d be absolutely delighted to!” 

Patton stepped out for a moment to let Roman get dressed, and then he led him through the halls of the manor. Roman did his best to memorize the layout as they went; the estate technically was his home now, and he wanted to know it like the back of his hand. Patton led him outside through a set of double doors set with frosted glass and onto a meticulously kept gravel path. As they walked, they passed by an immaculate flower garden and what looked like the entrance to a hedge maze before reaching what Roman assumed were the stables. 

Lord Howard was already there waiting for them, dressed in smart white riding pants and a tailored vest. Two men stood beside him, each holding the reins of a horse.

“Ah, good morning Lord Sanders,” the Earl called, and Roman bowed his head in greeting. “Come, let me introduce you to my stablemaster.” 

The shorter of the two men beside him bowed. 

“Joseph Acton,” he said. “I am at your service, my lord. And this is Angel, and her handler, Virgil.” He gestured at the taller man, who held the reins of a snow-white mare. 

Roman nodded to both stable hands, then reached out to pat Angel’s nose. 

“She’s lovely,” he said, smiling at Virgil. 

“She’s yours,” said Lord Howard, and Roman’s eyes widened. 

“I- really?” 

“Indeed,“ said the Earl. “I trust you can ride?” 

“Yes, I can,” Roman said. “I- you are too generous my lord, thank you.”

Lord Howard gave him a short bow, clearly preening at the expression of gratitude, and Roman smiled to himself as he took Angel’s reins. This may not be quite the marriage of equals he had always hoped for, but it didn’t mean he was unprepared for his situation. 

A man like Garret Howard had wealth and power to spare, and everything he did would be in service of either acquiring more or showing off what he had. If Roman wanted to improve his standing with him, he first had to stroke the man’s ego. So as they rode through the grounds, he oo’d and ah’d at the impressive landscaping and architecture, when asked how he was finding his stay at the estate so far he gushed about the size of his rooms and the quality of service from the staff, and at every opportunity, he brought the conversation back to Lord Howard, allowing the Earl to not-so-subtly boast about the size of his estate and investments. 

When they circled back around to the stables, Lord Howard swiftly dismounted his horse, and gave Roman a nod. 

“Thank you for your time this morning, Lord Sanders. You of course have free reign of the estate. I have much business to attend to today and cannot be disturbed, but I do hope you will join me for dinner this evening?” 

“Of course, my lord,” Roman said with a smile. “It would be my pleasure.”

Lord Howard snapped his fingers and Acton hurried forward to take his horse’s reins. 

“Until this evening, then,” said the Earl, and then he turned and left without another word. 

Acton gave Roman a quick bow before leading Howard’s horse away, and Roman glanced around. He didn’t see the other stableboy anywhere nearby, so he steered Angel towards the stables himself. As he drew nearer, he finally spotted the tall, dark haired boy who had first handed him Angel’s reins leaning against a fence post and talking to Patton, of all people.

“Virgil! Get to work!” snapped Acton, and Patton jumped, guilt flashing across his features. The stablehand, Virgil, rolled his eyes, but stepped forward towards Roman, ducking his head and holding out his hands for the reins.

“Apologies, my lord,” he said lowly, and Roman flashed him a reassuring smile.

“It’s quite alright, sir,” he said as he dismounted. He glanced up to make sure Acton wasn’t listening, then added quietly, “and you may just call me Roman, if you wish.” 

Virgil’s eyebrows quirked up in surprise, and he glanced over at Patton, who smiled and nodded at him. 

“Alright then, Roman,” Virgil said. “How was Angel for you?”

“Oh, she was excellent. Weren’t you, girl?” Roman asked, patting Angel on the neck. “You deserve a whole barrel of apples for doing such a good job!” 

“I do have some sugar cubes saved back at the stable, if you’d like to give her some,” Virgil said slowly, almost warily. 

“I’d love to,” Roman said honestly, and Patton’s face lit up. 

Virgil nodded to himself, as if coming to a decision, then he turned around, tugging gently on Angel’s reins.

“Come on then, her stall is this way.” 

Roman and Patton followed Virgil into the stables, which housed around a half-dozen horses. Virgil led them through to Angel’s stall, then gave them all sugar cubes and baby carrots that they took turns feeding to the mare while he removed her bridle and brushed her down. 

Roman held out another handful of treats to Angel and glanced at Patton. Patton was stroking Angel’s nose, but the soft smile on his face was clearly directed more at her handler rather than the horse itself.

“So...you two know each other well?” Roman asked. Virgil looked hesitant, but Patton nodded, a sheepish smile on his face. 

“When I started working here, I didn’t know anybody...and, um. I’m sure you’ve noticed that the senior staff can be...”

“Assholes?” Virgil grumbled, and Patton laughed nervously. 

“That’s, um, a strong word for it.” 

“Not necessarily inaccurate though,” Roman said, and Virgil blinked, clearly surprised. 

‘Well, suffice it to say, I had a little trouble fitting in at first!” Patton interjected. “But Virgil was actually nice to me, helped me find my feet, and we’ve been friends ever since!” 

Roman raised an eyebrow; based on the way that they looked at each other, he’d have guessed they were more than just friends...still, he wasn’t about to pry.  

“Pat, it was great to see you, but I don’t want you to get in trouble,” Virgil said. “You should get back, before Wakefield gets wind of where you’ve been.” 

“He should be fine, as long as he’s with me, right?” Roman asked quickly. “Since he’s my attendant, if I ask him to accompany me somewhere, that would supersede any other duties he has.” 

“I mean, yeah, probably,” Virgil said. “Still, you don’t know how Wakefield can be...I don’t wanna risk you getting in trouble.” 

“And I don’t want to risk either of you getting in trouble, so we’ll make sure we keep our visits on the short side,” Roman said. 

“Our...visits?” Patton asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Well, as my attendant, it’s essentially your job now to accompany me around the estate, right?” Roman asked. “It just so happens that I love horses, and taking walks around the grounds, so Mrs. Wakefield can hardly blame you if you end up spending more time than you used to outside the mansion.”

“Oh!” Patton said, his eyes widening. “Oh, Roman, you don’t have to do that if you don’t want to…”

“I do, though,” Roman said honestly. “It’s no trouble. And Angel is a sweet girl who deserves all the extra sugarcubes in the world, aren’t you?” he added, patting the horse on her neck. 

“Alright, if you’re sure,” Virgil said. “But you two should still probably get inside now, I don’t need Acton on my case again.” 

“Okay,” Patton said, quickly pulling Virgil into a hug. “I’ll see you later!”

Virgil looked embarrassed, but he hugged Patton back and waved to him and Roman as they exited the stables. 

“What else would you like to do today?” Patton asked Roman as they headed back inside. “Lord Howard takes dinner at seven thirty, so you have quite a bit of free time until then.” 

“Hmm...well perhaps you could give me a tour of the mansion?” Roman asked. “I believe there are several wings I haven’t even seen yet.” 

“Absolutely!” Patton said. “Follow me!” 

Roman was happy to do just that, and the two of them spent nearly an hour wandering through the house, Patton pointing out various features as they went. Roman’s head spun at the sheer size of the place; it was nearly unbelievable that just one man could own so much. At midday, Patton left him to arrange for lunch, and Roman found himself wandering the corridors alone. He decided to try and find the library again and turned around, only to collide headfirst with someone hurrying down the hall.  

“Oh goodness, I’m so sorry!” he exclaimed as the person went sprawling, papers flying everywhere. “Here, let me help.”

Roman got to his knees to help gather the papers up, pausing when he saw just who he’d bumped into. 

“Oh...it’s Logan, right? Again, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention at all to where I was going!”

“It’s quite alright,” Logan said, getting to his feet and pushing his glasses up on his nose. “For once, I was not heading anywhere in a particular hurry, I merely intended to take my lunch in the library.” 

“Oh, I was heading that way too!” Roman said. “Or at least, I was trying to find it. Is it alright if I walk with you?” 

Logan shrugged.

“You may do what you wish, Lord Sanders.” 

He resumed his walk down the corridor, and after a moment, Roman followed, glancing around to ensure none of the other servants were nearby before he leaned over and spoke quietly. 

“Roman.” 

“I beg your pardon?”

“You may just call me Roman, as long as we aren’t around somebody who might get upset with you for it.” 

“Is there a particular reason you prefer not to be called by your proper title?” Logan asked as they reached the library, and Roman shrugged. 

“Formality has its time and place,” he said.

He paused and opened the library door, gesturing for Logan to enter. After a moment, Logan did so, heading towards a small table beneath a window, and Roman followed. 

“However,” he continued, “I’ve found it more beneficial in the past to be on more personal terms with members of my staff. Everyone is free to be at their best when they aren’t spending half their energy worrying about decorum.” 

“Members of your staff?” Logan repeated as he sat down, and Roman nodded. 

“So unless you have your own objections, I really don’t mind if you call me Roman,” 

Logan regarded him for a moment, then tilted his head forward slightly. 

“Very well then, Roman.”

Roman grinned, and sat down opposite Logan.

“So, tell me about what you do! Lord Howard called you his business secretary, what duties does that entail?”

“You...want to hear about my work?” Logan asked, sounding puzzled. 

“Of course!” Roman said. “Lord Howard has been...busy, lately, and I haven’t had much time to learn about everything that goes on here at the estate yet. I was hoping you would be able to fill me in, if that’s alright of course?” 

“I...suppose there is no harm in that,” Logan said slowly. “Though I’m afraid you won’t find what I have to say very interesting. My job mostly entails keeping track of paperwork, creating and distributing documents, managing the taxes paid to the estate as well as balancing the earl’s personal finances-” 

“All that, and he calls you a secretary?” Roman interrupted. “That’s the work of a manager, if not a full business partner!” 

“Yes, well” Logan cleared his throat, and shuffled some of his papers around. “Lord Howard would likely benefit from having a manager or business partner...however, he prefers to handle all matters that fall under his responsibility personally.”

“Or have you handle them,” Roman finished, and Logan gave him a wry smile. 

First Previous Next

“Or have me handle them,” he agreed.

“So Lord Howard trusts you, then?” 

“I would not use the word trust, ” Logan mused. “Rather, he knows I am capable of my job, and expects me to perform it to his satisfaction. Much of the day to day of running the estate falls to me, leaving him free to speak directly with other nobles and officials. I give him a report at the end of each week, and we discuss what expectations are for the next week.” 

“Would I be able to get a copy of those reports?” Roman asked. 

Logan raised an eyebrow. 

“Technically those documents are for the Earl’s eyes only. What would you even do with a copy?”

“All my life, I’ve been preparing to run an estate,” Roman said. “And now I’m getting married in six months, but I’m not sure the Earl even realizes I exist half the time. I don’t want to just sit around and twiddle my thumbs and not even know what’s going on under my own roof. I want to actually do something.” 

Logan watched him for a long stretch of time, and Roman wondered if he’d made a mistake, confiding in the man. Would he refuse Roman’s request? Would he tell Lord Howard what Roman had asked for? What would the Earl do if he found out Roman had requested confidential reports without his permission? 

“In all honesty, the Earl pays very little attention to what I do,” Logan said, pulling Roman from his spiraling thoughts. “As long as the numbers match up to what he expects. I should have no problem creating a second copy of my weekly reports, if you truly wish to see them.” 

Roman grinned. 

He had a feeling he and Logan were going to get along just fine.

Previous     Next

[lazuli-bloom]

Roses and Styx

Chapter 2 – The Man In The Rotting Suit

Beetlejuice x Reader

Word Count : 5051

You get to go home early, which is nice. Now if only you could shake that guy from the graveyard. It doesn't help that no one else is able to even see him. There has to be some way to get rid of him, right?

Last Chapter | Archive | Next Chapter

--=--=--

Deep breaths. Inhale through the nose, and exhale through the mouth. You're fine. Just ignore the man grinning at you seated in your passenger seat. Everything was normal and fine. He's not really there.

"So, where to, babes?"

You sucked a long sharp breath and glanced over to the delusion. He definitely looked at home in a graveyard, with the patches of moss on pale skin and sporting a frayed suit coated in dirt and grime. The man flashed you another grin showing off sharp teeth that likely have never seen a toothbrush.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and ignored the apparition while you get your shitty car started. A few minutes later, the car clanged and sputtered awake. You shoot whatever was in your passenger seat a glare before pulling out of the small lot and headed home.

The man next to you groaned after you passed the first stoplight. You glanced over to him. He crossed his arms, and wore a frown on his face. The green color in his hair dulled from when he was in the store. His tone looked to be a more purple hue.

"Come on, babes, I know you can see and hear me!"

You stayed silent and tapped your fingers on the steering wheel while stopped at a red light. He was right—much to your vexation—you could perceive him. In more ideal circumstances you'd seek professional help from a doctor or therapist, but that costs money. So you're forced to bank on the hope that ignoring the delusion makes him disappear.

He huffed and pouted more. "You have no idea how long it's been since anyone could see me. I ain't leaving so soon."

You press your lips tighter into a line and kept your eyes on the road. His peculiar wording bounced around in your head for the next few stops. Soon that bled into playing the events of the funeral. He was there, bugging the mourners and going unnoticed.

"Fine. What are you?"

You catch the dimmer purple wash away from his hair and brighten to a vivid green.

"Aw babes, I knew you'd come around!"

"Please answer the question."

"Oh, and so polite! Alright sweets, since you asked so nicely; I am a ghost!"

You spared a glance over to him as you turned onto the dingy road leading to your apartment. The skeptic in you wanted to counter and say that wasn't possible, but you doubted voicing that would magically make your unwanted passenger disappear.

"Alright then, mister ghost, why are you following me?"

"Already told ya, you're the first breather able to see me in a long time."

"So, are you planning to haunt me? Make my life worse than it already is? Because so help me god I'll kick your ass straight to Hell if you try."

You parked your car and turned, giving him a pointed glare. His citrine eyes lit up as his grin stretched so large it threatened to split his face.

"Feisty! I like that in a breather."

You grumbled under your breath and looked around the parking lot. Your car was one of maybe four parked there. There weren't any milling tenets out, either. Nevertheless, you weren't keen on staying out in your car the entire day talking to a ghost.

"I'm going inside. If you want to follow me, then you're going to have to answer my questions. Got it?"

"Anything you want, babes."

You breathed out through your nose and unbuckled yourself. As you stepped out you caught sight of the ghost floating out the front of your car where he waited for you on the curb. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he rolled back, putting his weight on his heels. The ghost flashed you another grin, and you doubted any good could come from this.

No second guesses or weaseling out by that point. You told him to follow you as you made your way to the apartment. Up the flight of stairs and to the end of the hall, you were almost home free.

"Parker!"

The harsh rasp of a smoker shouted at you. Every fiber of your being tensed up, and you fought to put on a smile in front of the dragon. She marched up to you with narrow eyes locked on you.

"Hi Donna."

"Who the hell left your apartment yesterday? I swear if you're smuggling a roommate in there I'm going to raise your rent."

"That was my friend, Sam. They're moving and stopped by to say goodbye. Wait, how did you know Sam even visited? Didn't you go out last night?"

"I got complaints about you."

You keep your mouth shut for the moment. This was a conversation you preferred not to drag out. You simply nodded to her as you carefully thought over your next words.

"Sam only dropped by to say goodbye."

"And who is 'Cassie'?"

You tensed up to the point your muscles could turn to stone any minute. Your nails dug into the palms of your hands and you struggled to keep up a friendly act.

"They're a co-worker."

Donna huffed at you, followed by a sneer showing off tobacco-stained teeth. She waved you off and turned, pulling out her smokes as she left. Donna uttered an insult your way before descending the stairs.

"Ain't she a delight."

You whipped your attention to the gravelly voice and found the specter with narrowed eyes pointed at the landing. His brow and nose scrunched up as he glared and you noted odd flecks of red in his hair.

You got your keys out and unlocked your door. "She's a bitch, but this apartment was the best I could afford. Easier to just grin and bear it."

"You know sweets, we could help one another with our problems." He said. You raise a brow at him before you stepped into the apartment. While he didn't exactly need you to, you stepped to the side and held the door open for him. "Babes, you are adorable. I'd give ya a big ol' 'thank you' kiss if I could."

"Please don't," you said, closing the door.

He let out a hardy laugh and then winked your way. You frowned and leaned against the wall with crossed arms. He scanned over the apartment while you studied him. The ghost's ragged appearance gave the impression that he recently crawled out of the grave. His pale skin grew bits of moss that blended into his hair. Dark rings circled his amber eyes. And a layer of rot and grime coated his odd frayed suit.

"Like what ya see, sweets?"

Heat rushed to your face, and you furrowed your brow at that. "You could use a bath."

"You breathers and bathing. What's even the point of it?"

"Health. It cleans away dead skin, and any diseases stuck on you, helps with sore muscles and aches, and can just help improve your mood overall."

"Shit. I didn't expect you to actually have an answer."

"Had one or two school wide lessons back in high school telling the kids that body spray was not a substitute for a shower."

He blinked at you. He shrugged a moment later and took a step closer, with his hands behind his back. "Anyway, back to my point. I think we can help each other out."

"How?"

"You and me could get rid of that awful hag! Decapitation, eaten alive by rats, electrocution, I'm open to suggestions!"

"Real casual with murder, huh? Yeah, no, not interested."

"Wait! Okay, it doesn't have to be murder. I could scare her so bad that she runs off and never comes back! We can workshop that later. But first I need you to say my name!"

"What would saying your name do to 'help'? And I don't know your name, you never said it."

The nameless ghost rolled his eyes and heaved out a sigh. Did the dead still need to breathe? That didn't seem right.

"Right now I can't affect much of anything. You saw how that guy walked right through me, right?"

You nodded.

"But if you say my name three times, I get my powers back and won't be stuck being invisible." There was a certain excitement in his tone when he said that. One that lit up his amber eyes with... something.

Your lips twitch downward as you mulled over his words. He said earlier you were the first person to see him in a long time. How long you couldn't be sure without asking, but truly any stretch of time sounded so lonely. However, you couldn't just let him have free range to do whatever he pleased. He already proposed murder as means of dealing with your landlady. This ghost could be impossibly destructive if unleashed.

"I don't know. How can I—"

A vicious yowl made you jump. It came from the other side of the wall.

"Shit!"

You rushed around the corner and opened the bathroom door. A white blur ran past you to the underside of the coffee table. Aqua colored eyes glared at you, only to shift focus in the ghost's direction.

You ignored that for the moment and instead turned your attention to the bathroom. The smell hit you first, the acrid scent of cat piss. You groaned as you looked over the state of the bathroom. The toilet paper shredded in tethers on the cheap linoleum, food and water bowls flipped with contents scattered, and a yellow puddle next to the litter box. Fantastic.

"Why was your cat locked in the bathroom?"

"I'm pet-sitting for a friend, and I can't have pets in the apartment," You said while you dug out the cleaning supplies from under the sink. "I'm keeping him mostly confined to the bathroom, so it's not obvious a cat's here for two weeks."

"Why are you pet-sitting if you can't have pets here?"

"Because my friend couldn't board their cat anywhere else. They promised me a couple hundred bucks to do it too, so I bit the bullet."

"If you're hard up for cash, I know an easier way to get it."

You glanced back at him with a raised brow but kept quiet to focus on cleaning. A minute later, once cleaned of Rigel's mess, you tossed the toilet paper in the bathroom trash and asked, "And what method would that be?"

"Just taking it! I won't get caught, babes, and even if I did, there's nothing a breather could do about it. Come on, all you gotta do is say my name three times in a row!"

You stay quiet for a minute as you washed your hands. You dried your hands and turned to face him, saying once more, "I don't know your name."

"Well, I can't say it."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I'm cursed. I can't say my own name."

"Is it... Rumpelstiltskin?"

"Sweets, that hurts. You really think my sexy self could be that little imp?"

"Well, other than taking more shots in the dark, how else would I figure out your name?"

"We could..." He trailed off, scratching the stubble on his chin. His face lit up a moment later as he said, "We could play a game or something so you can figure it out!"

His grin stretched wide as he wore an earnest hope on his features. It was rather sweet, strangely enough, and made the notion of turning him down seem harsh. You mulled over your decision. While you didn't want to say no, you weren't keen on agreeing either. If you said yes, he'd expect you to say his name afterwards.

"And if I figure out your name, then what? Setting you free doesn't seem like a smart idea."

He instantly deflated when he heard that. Smile gone, brows furrowed. Even the vibrancy of his green hair looked like it dulled to a blueish purple. He looked crushed, and knowing you caused it struck you with a bit of guilt. You couldn't blindly trust him, but you didn't want to see him so hurt.

"Look. We just met. How do I know I can trust you?"

"Cause we're BFFFFs Forever!"

"B-F-F—... You want to be friends?"

He nodded vigorously, with a glimmer of hope rekindled in his eyes. Your guts twisted into tighter and tighter knots the longer he gave you the lost puppy look. If he truly was alone and unseen for any stretch of time, then desperately wanting a friend made sense. And for whatever strange reason, you were the one able to see him.

"Okay. I'll make you a deal. We can be friends, but I won't free you until you've earned my trust. If I feel like I can trust you by the end of the month, then I'll say your name."

His grin reappeared, showing off sharp yellowed teeth. His hair also grew to a vibrant green. "Aw babes, you're the best! We are going to be great friends!"

You gave him a half smile, finding his excitement endearing if not a tad contagious. You finished up with cleaning the rest of the mess, and while doing so, you threw out a few more guesses of what his name might be. They were all wrong, but "Cthulhu" got a laugh out of him.

Once done with tidying the bathroom, you check on the furball under the shoddy coffee table. The devil cat hissed at you and swiped a clawed paw at you for daring to get so close. His eyes were thin slits and seemed to shift between yourself and somewhere behind you. You followed his gaze and landed on the ghost. You even asked him to move and the cat's gaze followed him.

"Huh. Looks like Rigel can see you."

"Rigel?"

"The fuzz-bucket of pure rage over here. His name is Rigel."

"Like the star in Orion?"

"Yeah, actually. The bright white star, that's why Sam named him that."

"Do you know any other stars in Orion?"

"Not off-hand. Why?"

"Eh... can't say."

You raised a brow at him. You wanted to find out the other stars in the constellation after he asked that—but with no internet access at the apartment or even a smartphone, you couldn't do that. All you owned was a cheap little prepaid flip phone straight out of the early aughts.

You shrugged it off and made a note to search that the next day on the store's computer. In the meantime, you sat down on the couch, kicking your shoes off to pull your feet up too. You didn't want to take the chance of that cat getting ballsy and going after you.

"So Mr. Whatsyourname, how am I going to figure out your name?"

He floated down to the other end of the couch and shrugged. You pressed your lips tight and hummed in thought as you worked out a means to find out his name.

"Well, playing twenty questions is getting us nowhere. Then again, throwing out random guesses isn't how you play that, but whatever. You can't spell it out, can you?"

"No, I suck at spelling it. And I can't, cause that would count as telling you it."

"Hmm, do you think you could use pictures to 'spell' it? Like using—a fly, a car, and a dog, to get the result of a flying carpet?"

"That might work, but I can't affect things, babes."

"But I can. Give me a sec, I'll get some paper." You rushed off to your bedroom and come back with a pencil and sketch pad. You took your seat back on the couch and turned to sit side by side with the ghost rather than facing him. "Alright, you tell me what shapes to draw."

You flipped to a blank page, skipping the older pages filled with various sketches and doodles. Once you got to a clean page, you held the book at an angel he could easily see.

The first thing he said to draw was a rectangle, a narrow one standing upright. Then a shorter and much thinner one at the top of the first. Followed by a third the same size as the second but connecting with it at an angle.

"Is that a juice box?"

"Nix the box."

"Juice?"

He nodded with a Cheshire grin. "Great! Now draw a circle on the front of the box."

You did so, as well as draw the six lines going out from the circle like he asked.

"Bug?"

"No, more specific. Draw lines on it in a 'T' shape."

You drew the segments on the bug, which gave it a distinct head and a line along its back. You look over the drawing and ask, "Is it a beetle?"

"Yes!"

"Beetle... juice?"

"Yes! You got it!"

You hum to yourself and look over the picture more. Such a strange name. Was that his name in life, too? Or did he get a new name upon death? Does everyone? Can you choose your name?

"I can see why your name's Art."

You shook out of your thoughts and jerked your head to the ghost—Beetlejuice—sitting beside you. You huffed a small laugh and closed the sketchbook.

"That's not my name."

"But that guy at the store—"

"I don't put my real name on my apron."

"Okay, Parker—"

"Not my name either."

"What? But that bitch called you Parker."

"I don't want people knowing my name. So, I don't give out my real name."

"Not even to your BFFFF Forever?"

"How about instead of telling you, you try to guess it? No hints either."

Beetlejuice groaned and whined at that, but you didn't budge. You instead gave him a sly smile of your own. He puffed out his cheeks and glared at you, and you did your best to not break into laughter. How was that disheveled ghost able to look so cute?

"Babes, tell me! You know my name now, I want to know yours."

"I had to play a game to figure out your name, only fair you have to do the same to learn mine."

"I'm cursed though. I can't say my name. Well, my middle name anyway."

You blinked and tilted your head as you processed his last comment. His middle name? How odd. You shrugged at him and said, "You can either try to figure out my name or maybe if I end up trusting you, I'll tell you. But for now, you don't need it."

"Then what the hell am I supposed to call you?"

"You've been doing just fine with nicknames like—babes, sweets, and breather."

"Fine. But I want to know your name at some point."

"When I'm more comfortable, it's a personal thing. What about you, though? Can I call you by a nickname?"

"Sure! You could use—sexy, or handsome, or hot stuff."

"Or none of those," you said, shaking your head. You did your best not to crack and laugh. "How about Beetle, or Bug? Simple and sweet."

"You think I'm sweet?" He asked with a purr that caused your face to burn.

"I think you're weird, and strange, but not the most terrible at least."

"I'll take it!"

There was that bright smile again. Wide and full of sharp teeth. This ghost was a very perplexing being. The more you saw his smile, the more your own lips curled into a smile of your own.

"Okay, so if you're going to hang around here, we should set up some ground rules and get other things squared away. Like—I don't want you going in my bedroom unless I invite you in and stay out of the bathroom too."

"Aw, that's no fun."

"Do you sleep or anything?"

"I can, but I don't need to. Same goes for food when I'm not stuck being invisible."

"Can you affect anything while you're like that? Lights? Electronics?"

"No. The air gets cold around me. Other than that, can't do much of anything while invisible."

You nodded with a small frown. That must be so boring—stuck watching the world go by, unable to affect anything or even seen by anyone. That experience didn't sound pleasant. As much as you wanted to keep a low profile, you couldn't bear to be that level of unnoticed.

"Well..." you said, getting your thoughts back on track, "If you don't need to sleep, what do you want to do while I'm asleep? You want me to set up a movie for you in the living room? Or I guess you could go snoop around the other apartments and see what everyone else is doing. Lord knows there's always someone awake in this place no matter the hour."

"You're giving me a free pass to spy on your neighbors?"

"You said you can't affect anything other than making it cold, so I don't see a problem. Hell maybe if you annoy enough people with cold spots Donna will have to deal with a bunch of complaints. Maybe she'll even waste money trying to fix things, that'd be fun."

"We are going to be such great friends."

You huffed out a small laugh. As strange as he was—and maybe a little too gung ho with murdering your landlady—Beetlejuice seemed like he would make for... interesting company.

You checked the time on your phone. Five in the afternoon. Only an hour left of your shift. Well, if you hadn't left early. You tossed your phone on the coffee table with a clatter. Your action earned a venomous hiss from Rigel.

"So, um, if you don't need to sleep but can, do you want me to set up the couch as a bed? I don't have anywhere else to set one up and if Donna thinks I have other people living here, she's going to be pissed."

"Good thing I'm dead."

You pursed your lips and rolled your eyes. "Well yeah, technically. Existing here then, which dead or alive; you do exist. And that would still piss off Donna."

He huffed and narrowed his eyes, but glanced away from you. "I know you said you want to trust me first, sweets, but I could do a helluva lot more than just annoy her with cold spots. Just give me a chance!"

"I don't know... I don't like her but I don't think that would be a good idea." You sat looking blankly at the couch cushions as you hummed in thought. Even if he had good intentions going in—or more accurately, intentions that benefited you—things could go wrong and land you in a worse spot. Good intentions paved the road to Hell, after all.

"Babes, please, I'm begging. Ya gotta let me do something! I can even hold back on hurting her if that's what you want! I'll just scare the shit out of her!"

You thought over the proposition, and it sounded enticing. You tapped a finger against your cheek as various scenarios of Donna, scared out of her mind, played out. "That does sound fun, maybe later—Wait! It's October!"

"It is? Huh. I thought it was still July."

"Wait what? How...?"

"When you've been around for over a millennium, you stop bothering to keep tabs on time."

"A millennium? That's, holy crap. Okay, I have questions, but first what I was originally saying; It's October. So that means at the end of the month is Halloween. So, what if, if things go well and I trust you by then we plan a big scare for this All Hallows' Eve?"

The ghost shot up, bouncing on the couch. The sudden movement freaked out Rigel enough for him to scurry off to another hiding spot. "Hell yes! Babes, you're the best!" This ghost vibrated with barely contained excitement and you could have sworn he was glowing green.

You held up your hand to hold in a laugh. Beetlejuice radiated a pure joy that was not only endearing but also infectious. While precious to see him so happy, you asked him to compose himself and sit. Incorporeal or not, it’s difficult to carry a conversation while a ghost jumped on the furniture.

He sank back and sat on the couch, though he chose the arm of the couch as his seat. He faced you, still sporting a grin and vibrant green hue, and you couldn't stop smiling at this happy dork. Wanting to keep your discussion going, you cleared your throat and picked things back up with a question.

"You said you've been around for a millennium. So does that mean you lived during the... eleventh century?"

"I was around then, but I've never been alive. I was born dead."

"Born dead? Do... you mean like a stillborn?"

"Not in the way you're thinking. I'm a demon straight from Hell."

"You're a demon-ghost? Ghost-demon?"

"Both, yeah. But enough about me, as great as I am. How'd a pretty little breather like you end up in this shitty apartment?"

You frown and grabbed at your sleeve, not wanting to look him in the eye anymore. "It's kinda complicated and I don't want to go into all of it. I'm just... scraping my life back together and this place is the best I can afford right now." You stayed quiet for a moment before looking back at the ghost. The vibrant joy on his features faded drastically. Guilt stung in your heart for dampening the mood and offered the best masking smile you could muster. You weren't sure it looked all that convincing.

Beetlejuice stayed quiet a moment longer before a smirk pulled at his lips. "Well, now you know who you can call if ya need help dealing with a few problems."

"The ghostbusters?" You asked and cracked a genuine smile.

"Pff. Them? Nah, babe, the ghost with the most! Just gotta say my name three times, spoken unbroken!"

The self proclaimed "ghost with the most" puffed out his chest in a bid to look impressive. It earned a soft chuckle out of you.

"I'll keep that in mind."

A low growl filled the room. Heat seared your cheeks as you wrapped an arm over your stomach. Lunch wasn't as filling as you had hoped. You sighed and stood with a stretch. If you didn't make dinner soon, you'll end up nauseous from hunger later.

Your new familiar spirit stayed put sitting on the arm of the couch. However, when you glanced back at him, his head turned around to face you. It unnerved you, and the longer you looked at him the worse the feeling got.

You shook it off as best you can and headed to the fridge, which hid behind a wall jutting out to separate the living room and kitchen. And right then doubled as a divider that blocked you from view of the couch.

Once you dug out the mixed vegetables from the freezer, you turned and caught sight of a large blur on your counter. You seized up, knees locking, and heard a loud laugh bellow out.

"Aw babes, you should've seen the look on your face."

Beetlejuice wiped away some tears, then snapped his fingers. You blinked a few times, unsure what to think of seeing your face on his body. He twisted his—your? features into an expression of shock before cackling. Your mouth hung open, but you couldn't find any words. So you just shook your head and carried on making dinner.

As you worked on getting your dinner prepared, you pick back up the conversation. You and Beetlejuice took turns asking questions to get to know one another. Beetlejuice opened by sharing about his banishment—no clear details, just stated the fact it happened. He also said he got a kick out of the spread of the bubonic plague through Europe.

You grabbed a bowl and poured in your steaming dinner. The savory flavoring of the noodles mixed with the thawed vegetables and wafted in the air. Once you turned the stove off, you sat back on the couch. In between bites, you divulged a few minor details about yourself, like how you've worked for Mr. Turner close to a year and a half, and your hope to one day work in a haunted house attraction. That topic piqued Beetlejuice's interest.

"So, you get to scare people. As a job?"

"Y-yeah. I've thought being a haunted house actor could be a lot of fun. But there's no acting job close enough willing to pay the rate I'd need to make it worth it. And it's seasonal. So it's gotta stay a dream job."

You ate your noodles and mixed vegetables, allowing the specter to take over the conversation and regale you with various stories. One of his stories got you to laugh so hard you ended up swallowing wrong. It took a minute of coughing and sputtering before you stopped choking on your food. You cleared your throat with a short groan and fought to stop laughing.

After you finished dinner, you checked the time. It wasn't too late, but with everything that happened, drowsiness gnawed at the edge of your mind. You tapped your fork against the rim of the bowl as you walked through the mental checklist of what you needed to do before bed. Beetlejuice asked what you were doing and frowned when you told him.

"You're going to bed already?"

"I have work tomorrow and you gave me a few good scares today. I'm getting tired."

He pouted, but you noticed he cracked a smile, hearing that he scared you. You rolled your eyes and got up to put your dish in the sink. When you returned, you pulled several movie cases and set them on the coffee table.

"Pick whichever one you want, I can put it on for you before I go to bed."

You give him a small smile and leave to get ready. A few minutes later, once in your pajamas with your teeth brushed and the cat wrangled back into the bathroom, Beetlejuice picked out a movie. You got it started and tidied up the couch for him.

"You don't have to clean on my account, babes. I don't mind the mess."

"I don't mind, you're my guest, and I want things to be nice." You said and gave him another smile. "G'night, Beetle. See ya in the morning."

[sassanoe]

Love at first fright - Thomas Sharpe

Masterlist

-Is a slight Marvel crossover. The main character is the younger sister of Tony Stark, the only real crossover with this.-

Thomas and Lucille Sharpe have been dead for over 100 years. Allerdale Hall had been untouched all this time. Though now there is a young woman who bought the house, unknowing of the ghost that will come with it. She is a smart, independent woman who just wanted a side project and a break from her busy life. Well, she will be getting a break, just not the kind she hoped.

The flight to Allerdale Hall took forever.“Tony, did you have to come with me?” She said, “Well, your suit I mean.” She huffed not liking that her brother sent his suit with her. “I am not a child anymore, it's an old house. What, do you think a ghost will bully me?” She sassed the suit. “No, this just helps me to feel better, should something happen you will be safe.” He responded with just as much an attitude as his sister. “I am also sending the suit so that no men bother you. You are twenty-two, a Stark, and a billionaire, little sister. I don’t exactly want anything to happen to you. Who else will yell at me?” She giggled “Literally everyone, Tony.” “It’s not the same little sister.” He chuckled. “I’ll call you later, I’m pulling into the drive now. Looks like a crime scene, here.” “Well stay safe, I love you.” “I love you too, Tony.” She smiled and hung up.

Thomas stood looking out the window at the path leading to the house. A strange contraption coming up with a woman with strange clothing getting out of the said contraption. He hoped she wasn’t coming in here, but he knew she was. Lucille will not be happy with a woman in the house. He watched as she pulled out a key then the main doors opened. He floated down to watch quietly as the young woman walked in “F.R.I.D.A.Y. Do a scan of the house and area, please. I would like to have a blueprint of the house.” A metal man came flying in going through the whole house scanning everything. Before it came back and landed next to the mystery woman again. “Miss Stark, everything has been scanned as well I sent the information to your brother.” “Thank you, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”  Thomas stayed in the shadows watching quietly.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., how long will it take to restore the home with some tech improvement?" She asked, "Should take but a month using the equipment we came with." The metal thing responded. "Perfect." Taking off her jacket, she set it on the arm of the suit. She looked around them and smiled "A perfect project. My bags, please."  Thomas smiled slightly, she was very pretty though her clothes were strange. The suit went out to retrieve her things, then followed her up the stairs. He followed behind quietly as she kept walking until she selected a room. He watched as she started to clean it with the help of the A.I. She smiled and started pulling open drawers.

 "Thomas Sharpe." He froze. Did she know he was there, waiting for anything else he went closer to see she found his diary. "Must be the former owner of the house. F.R.I.D.A.Y. search Thomas Sharpe. I wish to know as much about the owner. It will possibly help in restoring the home to its former glory." She handed his diary to the metal man. It scanned through everything in the diary, as she went about her business. 

"Thomas Sharpe, 34 years of age, engineer, industrialist, the previous owner of Allerdale Hall. His diary reads that he was sexually involved with his sister, who killed their mother, along with killing his previous wives. They would steal his wife's money then move to the next one. His sister and he had a child that was born wrong, resulting in its death. He fell in love with a woman named Edith Cushing. He is also the creator of the machine outside. Do you wish to fix that as well?" Thomas was shocked, how had the metal thing known all of these things and read his diary. "Poor man," She sighed "Yes, I wish to fix the machine, maybe get it running better. As well, would you start repairing the home's pipes and such, along with adding better electricity, so that I will be able to charge you?" "Yes, Miss Stark." The metal man left. Thomas was shocked as all the young woman had to say was, poor man. 

“This was Thomas’s room then. I'll need to get F.R.I.D.A.Y. to order me a new mattress, bedding, and the bathroom also needs to be fixed. I didn't know the house would need this much love and care, but it will be worth it." She turned and put one of the boxes on the bed and started going through it before she started to pull off her top. Thomas looked away quickly, positive if he was still alive he would be red in the face. She walked through him to the dresser and he was even more shocked. She had on the smallest of shorts and a top that left barely anything to the imagination. Surely that was her undergarments. The metal thing came back into the room. "Y/N Y/M/N Stark!"

She groaned "Yes?" "What the hell do you think you're doing? Why didn't you make sure there was running water and such already there?" Thomas looked at the metal man confused, it sounded different now. "Because I am hard-headed much like my older brother." The metal man was her brother? There was a huff, "I'm sending my other suits to fix the house in a week you will leave then come back." "Dammit, Tony!" Thomas smiled slightly, such vulgar language for a woman. "As your older brother, I would feel better about it." She huffed "Fine, but I want to stay." "Deal." 

The metal man then left the room again. The woman he now knew as Y/N walked back down to the library. He watched as Lucille came from the darkness in the corner, as Y/N took a seat at the piano. "Leave her alone," Thomas growled to his sister. "What do you love her?" Lucille glared at him as Y/N started playing the piano. "She will not have what is mine!" Lucille yelled. Thomas broke a vase to try and make Y/N leave, but she just glanced then went back to playing. Lucille started to make the chandelier shake and fall. Thomas quickly tackled Y/N to the ground out of the way protecting her. Y/N screamed and then everything was quiet. He glared at Lucille before looking to Y/N. She was looking at him in shock. "W-Who are you?" She asked softly, scanning her eyes over his face. Lucille started to make her way towards them, Thomas quickly helped her up and brought her to her room before disappearing again. Y/N stood there shocked. "There is a ghost." She said quietly.

A week had passed, the house was in perfect condition thanks to her brother, and no ghost was to be seen. Walking back to her room she huffed she had been looking for him all day. "I can only assume you are watching me. I'm not scared. Honestly, I just wish to talk. Please?" She huffed and threw herself onto the bed. "I wonder, are you Sir Thomas Sharpe?" No response, she huffed and got up.

Unbeknownst to her, Thomas was in the room sitting on the end of the bed next to her. Over the week, he had learned many things about her and found himself falling in love. She was intelligent, and held her ground against her brother. She would tinker with all of his inventions, making them better. The thing he had come to love most was that she spoke to him even when she questioned if he was listening. She would read aloud, ask his opinion only to receive no answer. He thought it cute when she would call out that she was going to bathe or change and tell him he better not look.

He followed as she went to the attic. He never understood why she didn't have it fixed. She sat on the chair up there. Lucille hated it every time he came up here with her. "What is she doing in our room." Lucille snapped to Thomas, "Lucille, leave-" "Thomas?" The voice was soft, making him look to the woman in the chair. "You keep defending and protecting her! It can't simply be because she is alive. You love her, but you should only love me, Thomas!" Lucille growled at him. "What? Do you wish to fuck her too!" Thomas continued to ignore his sister.

"Would it be so hard for me to see you? Just once more, please?" Y/N said softly, "I truly wish to thank you for saving me. You didn't have to, but you did." Once again, she got no response. Walking over to the things on the table she gently ran her fingers across the top of the bed. "I am going to assume something major happened here."

Lucille looked to Thomas "Make her leave, or I will. I am sick of her calling your name. Speaking to you as if she loves you. She will never love you, because you are dead. I love you Thomas and that is enough." 

Y/N looked around and thought of everything F.R.I.D.A.Y. told her. She sighed something about the attic just gave her a weird feeling that was why she left it but she sighed. "This will be the next to go then." She walked through Thomas and Lucille going back down to her room. Everything in the home had been updated now having a slightly modern feel to it, because of this she was able to see what he looked like. Having read his diary and his journals for his machines she found she was intrigued by this man. She laid in the bed with a frown. "Your sister murdered you."

"She did." Y/N jumped out of her spot staring at him. "Thomas?" He nodded, and she smiled brightly. "Have you been watching over me?" He nodded again. "Oh please speak again. I would love to hear your voice." He smiled at that, "What is it you wish to hear?" She sat back on the bed with the brightest of smiles, asking him all her questions. He stayed answering every single one. Laying with her when it started to get late. She spoke to him of her brother and how she was sure the two would get along.

Months had passed, and the two had only grown closer. With their growing close, Thomas started to look like his human self. Though he was still very much a ghost. They would read together, cook, bake, and Y/N would show him how modern technology works. He learned she was a businesswoman and she learned he was not the murderer he seemed to think himself as. But, as their friendship and love grew, so did Lucille's jealousy. Many times Y/N was saved by Thomas from his sister. When they shared their first kiss Lucille ruined it.

Thomas and Y/N had been in the kitchen. She was dancing around the kitchen with him as they waited for her cookies to bake. Both seemed utterly happy. Her timer went off and Thomas was just not letting her go. She smiled and laughed struggling. "Thomas stop." She giggled breaking away. "Never." He smiled, grabbing her around the waist pulling her close. She looked up at him smiling before throwing flour in his face making her laugh hard. "Now you look as I had first seen you." He returned the favor, throwing some at her. She took the cookies out quickly before the two had continued to play around. Running around the island, he disappeared making her look around frantically.

 "Thomas?" She questioned quietly before she had flour dumped all over her. "Thomas! How could you!" She gasped before smirking and hugging him rubbing up on him returning the favor making him covered in flour. He hugged her tight so she couldn't move, making her smile. They both stared into each other's eyes leaning forward sharing a soft kiss. The room started to get colder and Thomas pulled away quickly looking to find Lucille. Right before she threw the knife Thomas pushed Y/N out of the way.

Ever since that day anything Y/N and Thomas started whether it is kissing or touching of any form something happened. "Thomas, darling. I am sick and tired of your sister. I can't even kiss you. This has been going on for months." Y/N sighed, taking a seat on the bed. Thomas frowned, "I know, and I'm sorry." She went to say something more before the A.I. went off speakers having been made into every room. "Miss Stark, your brother had received a book from Wanda for you regarding your situation, and it has arrived." She perked up "Lovely." "Darling what did you need a book for?" She looked to Thomas, "One to make you a physical and living man for but a few hours a day, along with a protection spell."

Later the same night had the two done the two spells granting Thomas life from dawn till dusk. The other spell simply being a protection spell in their room. No other worldly beings or ghosts will be able to bother them whilst the spell was in effect. "Are we sure this worked?" Thomas asked as she got up. "We are about to find out." He watched her confused as she opened the bedroom door before coming back over and pushing him onto the bed and kissing him.

He pulled away slightly, "Darling, why did you open the door?" She grinned, "I'm laying my claim." He still looked slightly confused and she continued. "If the protection spell worked your sister can't enter the bedroom. So I want to make love to you." His eyes widened, "You want her to see?" He asked, shocked "What if she hurts you once you leave the room?" Y/N smiled softly "Then we just won't be leaving the room." She smiled, making him smile in turn and kiss her.

[fairfowl]

Lie There and Breathe pt 2: A Poor Choice of Watchmen

A horde clone oc story (part one here)

Tw: mild gore, cult indoctrination

The next time that the clone awoke it was to a feeling of coldness. The bandages that were wrapped around his head had become soaked. 

The clone reached a hand up to touch the wet cloth over his face, wondering if someone had poured water over him while he slept, but as consciousness returned to him he realized that it was more likely blood. The wetness had dampened the bandages, and then dripped down onto the thin pillow under his head. It was very unpleasant. 

The emptiness in his mind seemed to amplify the pain from his wounds, leaving the frantic signaling from his nervous system to echo around inside his skull rather than travel outward into the hivemind as intended. He missed feeling his brothers, and being felt. He missed the comforting thought of Horde Prime Feeling him and Knowing him as an extension of his own glorious self. 

It was no wonder, the clone thought, that other species were so desperate and primitive. How could one be anything but when left trapped within their own mind?

He was already tired of being alone.

The clone took a slow breath, and listened for his brother The Breather beside him. He quickly isolated the familiar rasping sound from the chaos surrounding them. The wheezing sound was quieter than it had been, and the clone reached out, hoping that his companion had not been moved further away. His talons at first met empty air.

The clone strained further, partially lifting himself off the cot as he reached blindly across the void.

Eventually he found what he sought.

The soft strong skin of a fellow clone. 

It appeared that while the clone had slept someone had come and propped The Breather up in a half sitting position. The clone noticed that his companion's breaths seemed to come easier from the change and wondered at the improvement as he traced The Breather's arm from wrist to shoulder. 

He scooted as closely to the edge of the cot as he could manage, still too weak to sit up on his own, and rested a hand on his companion's arm.

"You should wake up Brother." He said softly, his voice rough from disuse. "I don't know what's happening but with two of us we will stand a better chance than one." 

The Breather slept on, each breath long and slow. For his part the clone found that he didn't mind.

"That is fine." He said aloud, feeling silly and slightly hysterical. "I will keep watch for both of us, I-" 

The clone stopped abruptly, as the tide of panic lapped at his mind once again. For all that he had been blind since first awakening the darkness seemed to become more menacing the more that he thought about it. The clone shuddered but soldiered on, continuing his one-sided conversation.

"Although I am a poor choice of watchmen at the moment." 

He needed to remain calm. If he kept his wits and didn't panic he and The Breather would still have a chance. 

If he stayed calm then they might survive. 

He did not stop to wonder when he had become they. All the clone knew that he wanted both of them to make it through this, although for the first time he did not know what the future held. It had all seemed so simple before, he would have served Prime for the length of his existence, whether he perished in battle or simply reached the end of his useful life. Now Prime was gone and the clone was still shocked by his own urge to continue living.

On an impulse, the clone stretched further across the void to hold his companion's shoulder bracingly, craving the grounding physical contact-

And promptly toppled to the ground as his cot overbalanced, the wooden frame falling on top of him with a crash.

For a moment all he knew was pain. His head rung like a struck bell, and warmth bloomed upon this wounded face, mingling with the now cold fluids that already soaked his bandages. Smaller sharp pains pulled and stung across his body. The clone was surprised to find that he had yet more injuries, he had been so distracted by the persistent pain from his eye and face that he simply hadn't noticed. Not until he moved.

Still the discovery of his collection of cuts and scrapes was immediately overshadowed by the new bruises that he had surely just gained.

The cot was heavy, pressing hard onto his back and legs, and the chaotic noise of the tent had fallen to a hush.

"Are you okay?" Someone was beside him, kneeling down to his level. The clone briefly considered yelling but decided that it wouldn't help. Instead he simply scoffed and tried to lift himself from the ground. 

After a few moments of futile struggling the clone felt two arms grab him beneath the arms, hoisting him up and righting the cot with a set of practiced movements. His head spun. 

He listened through the relative silence for The Breather and concentrated again on the repetitive rasping noise as he was set down on the cot in a seated position, his legs dangling as counterbalance while the stranger supported his shoulders.

The new person was talking to him, but he did not hear them. The clone was too focused on breathing in time with his companion, slowing his heart rate as his head continued to spin. Eventually he regained control of himself, and tuned head towards the person beside him.

"Hi" they said, their voice low and soft, as though they were speaking to a frightened animal. The clone had already guessed that the person interacting with him was Etherian but now he was sure. They smelled like grass. 

"Hello" He responded, feeling out of his depth. Was this one of his new masters? Did they know the extent of his damage? Maybe they were also someone conquered by the Etherian Princesses and the She-Ra. 

“Hey,” they greeted again, the clone did not understand why but said nothing “You took a pretty bad fall there, do you think you reopened any injuries?” 

Now the voice was hesitant, as though the speaker was afraid of him. Before the fall of Prime the clone would have thought them correct to be afraid, but now he lacked the will to lash out. Truly without Prime he was a pathetic creature. 

“I- I think my face is bleeding again…” Indeed the warmth that had bloomed against his cheek felt as though it was dripping downward, mixing with the fluids that already soaked his bandages. 

“Yeah, yeah those definitely need to be changed.” The Etherian said, a hand still holding the clone’s shoulder to steady him. “What do you think, Master?” 

“I think they should have been changed a few hours ago.” The clone startled as a wry voice chimed in from a few feet away, not far from where The Breather continued to sleep. “This one’s been shuffled off to the corner, but his head wounds will get infected if we don’t clean that up. They might be infected already.” 

“Okay, I’ll rewrap them.” The first voice replied. The clone felt a new hand grip his shoulder, larger and less gentle than the first, as the Etherian on his side hopped up and walked away, their footsteps vanishing into the noise of the tent. 

"Master…" He said slowly, concentrating on The Breather's quiet rasp as his heartbeat quickened. Fear coursed through him but he refused to relinquish control. "Are you to rule over us now that Horde Prime is dead?"

The very words felt blasphemous, but after so many hours of lying blind and helpless with no idea what was happening The Clone found that he had to know. 

"Oh! No!" The person beside him replied, his hand tightening against the clone's sore shoulder. "No no, not until you're no longer my patient at least."

The gruff voice chuckled. 

"I am a Master Healer of Mystacor, you may call me Master Mendus, or just Mendus if you’d prefer.” The clone nodded, unsure of the meaning of most of the words he’d just heard but doing his best to absorb them anyway. “Dawn, the one who helped you up, is one of my apprentices. I’ve assigned you to her care.”

As if on cue the footsteps returned, and the soft voice with them.

“I got the supplies. Master, can you hold him up while I unwrap his face?” The second Etherian—Mendus—said nothing, but the clone felt him shift, and the air moved as Dawn stood directly before him.

Slightly overwhelmed by the sudden attention of two alien beings the clone felt himself stiffen up, holding himself as straight as he could manage although still relying on Mendus’s hands to keep upright. Panic still hovered at the edges of his consciousness like a threat, but he held himself together to the best of his ability. 

If he lost control now he could be punished or taken away, and The Breather would be left alone. He would not leave his helpless brother to the mercies of their captors. 

Dawn’s gentle hands reached up to his face and the clone suppressed a flinch as he felt her slowly begin to unwrap his bandages. Throughout his entire stay within the healing tent he had seen only darkness, swathed in bandages and blood, but as they were peeled away light shone through his right eyelid, green and dim but present nonetheless. 

His heartbeat quickened, and the clone felt his claws scrape wood as he gripped the edge of his cot. 

Layer by layer the bandages unwound. They stuck over his left eye, but each time they did Dawn sprayed them with a cool liquid that wet them enough to come apart without pain. Eventually cool dry air touched his face and scalp for the first time, and the clone found that the only thing covering his eyes and wound was a gauze pad that stuck there, held by the gore beneath it.

“This might hurt.” Dawn warned, spraying more of the fluid directly onto his face. The liquid penetrated the bandage and stung as it entered the wounds on his left side, he could feel fresh blood welling up and dripping down his cheek. The clone could also feel himself beginning to shake as the gauze pad was carefully peeled away, exposing the wreck of his face to the open air.

And for the first time since Horde Prime’s defeat the clone opened his eye.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for tuning in to the continued adventures of Chamomile and Calamine the clones (AKA the clone and The Breather)

This time Chamomile actually speaks although he hasn’t much to say, we also meet two new characters

Master Mendus is exactly what he says he is, a healer from Mystacor who has taken responsibility for the hospital tent where our heroes currently reside. He’s a good man...or a good fawn as it were...

Dawn is one of several of Mendus’s apprentices and is currently responsible for both Chamomile and Calamine, she’s a dutiful gentle young doe. She will be Chamomile’s first real link to the Etherians and will help him and Calamine as they go on. Despite her sweet nature she is isolated from her family and seeking out connections

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Lasting Rivalries.

Word Count: 4.1k

Written for an anonymous commissioner. 

Synopsis: Izuku loves you, but he doesn’t like Katsuki very much. It’s just a shame he can’t separate one feeling from the other. 

TW: Kidnapping, Captivity, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Mentions of Death, Delusional Mindsets, and Emotional Manipulation. 

[Part One] / [Part Three]

If you thought about it, you could still feel his hands on your skin.

It’d been hours since you were strapped to that bed, hours since he tormented Katsuki and made you suffer and mistook his delusional, crazed jealousy as love, or something close to it, at least. It’s been hours, and yet, if you closed your eyes, you could still feel his heatless touch, the way his skin seemed to leech the warmth from yours and how no amount of time and shivering could bring back what you’d lost. You’d done what you could to rid yourself of the feeling. After he… finished, you’d been too weak to try to run, and he’d been too love-struck to care if you did. As much as you’d wanted to, you hadn’t resisted as he undid your restraints, as he wrapped you in his suit jacket and dragged you - stumbling and reluctant - through the halls of his bunker.

When he brought you to a bedroom, dark and dim but only half as dirty as the room you’d come from, you hadn’t tried to push your way past him as he locked the door and explained that some of his men were untrustworthy, that ‘Kacchan’ might get loose and try to hunt you down, that the locks were for your own good. You’d flinched as he slid the slick, black keycard into the tiny slit, the one that’d keep you trapped here, the one you should be scrambling to find a way to pick, to break, or smash into such an unrepairable state, you and Izuku would both starve in here together. But, you hadn’t, and you’d lost the opportunity to.

There was a cramped, militaristic bathroom attached to the suite, and you’d stood under the rusted shower-head until the boiling water blistered your skin, then went cold, then went freezing, and you had to get out or face the repercussions of hypothermia. It’d been uncomfortable, it’d been painful, but it’d been a cleansing pain, the kind that cleared your head and made it a little easier to process the world around you, to differentiate what was happening now to what was already over, what you couldn’t change. What had left you sore and bruised and aching, but what you’d survived, and what you would get past, eventually. You’d get back to Katsuki, and then--

Oh, god. 

Katsuki.

You’d been moved to another bedroom, but if Izuku had any intention of doing anything his less-favored captive, you hadn’t been able to tell. No, he’d been left bound and muzzled to rot in his own affliction, and if Izuku’s aggressive apathy was sincere, you doubted he’d be treated with much kindness, going forward. It felt wrong thinking about your boyfriend like that, a victim who needed to be saved, someone who needed to be helped rather than the guiding hand you’d always known him as. He was a hero, and you weren’t. He was strong, and in so, so many ways, you couldn’t be. But, he couldn’t do anything heroic while he was restrained from wrist to ankle, so it was beginning to seem like you might have to be--

“Darling, are you alright?”

You stiffed as soon as you heard his voice, going rigid and scrambling for a weapon, a shield, something to defend yourself, but Izuku was already opening the bathroom door, stepping in before you had a chance to make a move. You could only be glad you’d already pulled on the clothes he was generous enough to provide, even if one of his white button-down shirts did little to separate you from his prying gaze. But, you doubted he’d be able to give you anything sturdy enough to block that out.

His expression softened when he saw you, his eyes lighting up with the faint, flickering glow he hadn’t bothered to hide when you first woke up, in his captivity. You tried to scowl, attempting to glare at the barren floor as imposingly as you could manage, but it couldn’t have been very effective. Izuku didn’t hesitate to approach you, to come too close, to think too little, only stopping when he was directly in front of you, one hand cupping your cheek and the other coming to rest on your arm, drawing circles in your bicep as if you were a scared animal that needed to be soothed. You supposed you were. Despite your budding plans, you couldn’t help but shiver so violently whenever he was near enough to meet your eyes, let alone put his hands on you.

He didn’t try to deny it. “Poor baby… You’re still scared, aren’t you?” A small, patronizing smile painted itself across his face, just barely pulling at the corners of his lips. You didn’t nod, didn’t try to answer, but he didn’t seem to need you to, either. With a quiet hum, he continued, speaking more to his paranoia than to yours. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re with me, now, and Kacchan’s going to be taken care of.” There was a pause, a playful wink. As if you should be proud you’d been important enough to earn a few hours of his time. “I’m won’t let anything bad happen to you. Certainly not by his hand, not again.”

You flinched at the mention of Katsuki, and this time, you were thankful that Izuku wasn’t paying attention to you. Not enough to care about such a small show of displeasure, at least. “You’ll take care of him?” You asked, hesitantly, still unsure how far you wanted to push his boundaries. “What do you mean? How long are you going to keep us here?”

“How long am I going to keep you here,” He corrected, softly, just beginning to tilt your head back. He let out a soft chuckle, as if the statement was a joke he’d been telling himself far too long for it to be truly, genuinely funny. “Just you. He’ll be lucky to make it through the night.”

You should’ve expected that. You knew it was going to happen. You knew Izuku had to be planning something for Katsuki, something violent and something inpermanent.

You should’ve expected that, but it still felt so awful to hear.

Now more than ever, you should’ve tried to stay calm. You should’ve been composed, and you should’ve accepted the development with a purse of your lips and strategic silence, the kind that’d mean anything Izuku wanted it to mean. But, he’d just threaten someone’s life, he’d just threatened your boyfriend’s life, and he should’ve counted him lucky you only got mad. It took every ounce of your self-restraint not to lunge at him, consequences be damned. “You can’t do that. You went through the effort of getting both of us, you can’t just--”

“I can do anything I want to.” It wasn’t a question, nor was it the kind of arrogant declaration made by someone with too much power for it not to go to his head. It was a truth, a fact. Or, Izuku thought it was, at least. “He’s been a thorn in my side for decades, and I’ve been much too sentimental when it comes to removing him. He’s a disgrace to the world of Heroes. He’s a disgrace to the world. I can’t justify giving him another chance to root himself under my skin.” A sigh, a languid shake of his head. He let go of your cheek, but having him take up your wrists and press your hands against his chest was only a minor improvement. “If he gets free, he won’t stop until I’m dead and you’re locked away somewhere so deep and somewhere so dark, you’ll be lucky to ever see sunlight again. I love you too much to risk losing you, but I promise, I’ll never be half as mean as Kacchan. If someone ever tried to take you away from me, I wouldn’t stop until their head was mounted in my office.”

“If you lay a finger on him,” You spat, fighting the urge not to pull away from him. “I’ll never think of you as anything but a monster--”

You didn’t get a chance to finish. This time, he didn’t let your little show of rebellion slide. Still, you heard the blow before you felt it - a sharp, sterile crack of skin against skin, and then the burning, the flare of heat, a spark that ignited everything from your jaw to the bridge of your nose. It took you a moment to process what he’d done. A moment too long, for such a simplistic offense.

He’d slapped you.

He’d slapped you.

It was so straight-forward, so impulsive, you weren’t sure whether to be angry or afraid or something between, something darker than either emotion could fully cover. He hadn’t hurt you yet, not in a way that’d be so difficult to hide behind a half-hearted justification and an excuse about love or protection or something lovely and rotten. You weren’t sure whether that made it better or worse. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know.

Izuku didn’t seem sure either, if you were being honest. As soon as you moved to nurse your bruising cheek, he was on top of you, one of his arms draped around your shoulder, pulling you into his chest, leaving his free hand to card through your hair and flit around the edges of your minor injury, a worried scowl pulling at the edges of his lips. But, Izuku didn’t move to apologize, only attempting to open his mouth before whatever he was going to stay was muted by a grimace - obviously horrified, but far from regretful. When he finally broke the silence, his stance didn’t seem to change. Disappointed, but not shocked. Distressed, but resolute, at the same time.

“I.. I shouldn’t have done that,” He admitted, his posture straightening defensively. He pulled away, slightly, scanning over your face. As if he hadn’t already done so much more to harm you. “You just… you have to understand that this is for your own good, (Y/n). You’re going to be happy with me, I want you to be happy, but you’re going to have to let go of that stain, first. This is what he does to people.” There was a pause, a shake of his head, and slowly, he fell away from you, taking a step back when you failed to react. “He drives them apart. He makes people hate each other. You can’t trust anything he says. Bringing him back to my hideout was a mistake, I should’ve killed him in his sleep - clearly, he’s already worked himself into your brain.” Izuku bowed his head. It was the closest he’d come to showing his remorse, and you had a feeling it was the closest he would come. “I should’ve taken care of this sooner. I shouldn’t have drawn it out. I’m going to take care of it, I will take care of it. I’m not going to let him do anymore damage, not when you’re at stake.”

He turned, starting towards the bathroom door without another word. You didn’t think, you didn’t give yourself time to. You weren’t sure you’d be able to stop yourself from faltering, if you did.

Frantically, you stumbled forward, grabbing Izuku’s forearm and taking him by the sleeve, dragging him back towards you. Acidic bile rose in your throat at the thought of giving him what he wanted, but that didn’t stop you from clenching your eyes shut and forcing out the words, regardless of how much they burnt at your tongue. “Midoriya,” You mumbled, fighting not to stutter over such a simple sentiment. “I don’t think I can… I might not be able to… Could you---Could you stay?” Your grip tightened around his wrist, your nails digging into cloth and the thin, pale skin underneath. If Izuku cared, though he didn’t pull away, and you took that as a cue to keep going. “I don’t think I’ll be able to fall asleep, alone.”

The declaration was too hasty, too sudden, too flat and too desperate, but Izuku’s eyes still lit up, whatever skepticism he might’ve felt fading into a broad, careless smile. As enamoured as it was entrapping.

“Of course, sweetheart. All you had to do was ask.”

~

Izuku slept. You didn’t.

You doubted you’d be able to. Even when you tried to relax, when you tried to close your eyes and put on a convincing act, you could never get further than curling into yourself and willing Izuku not to notice the way you trembled despite the humid air, how easy it was to make you shy away despite his touch being relatively innocent, considering what he’d proved himself to be capable of. He’d rambled on about he’d always be there for you, rambling off threats and the mutilations he’d be willing to commit in your name like bedtime stories, but for all his vows of protection and security, he’d been quick to fall silent as soon as he realized you weren’t contradicting him, anymore, his body limp and still half-slouched against your side. His weight was oppressive, and you doubted any amount of rest would aid the dark-bags dyed into the skin under his eyes, but it was fine, it was perfect. If anything, you should be glad he was so exhausted.

It would be easier to pick his pockets, when he was asleep.

It wasn’t a difficult task, something you’d done a dozen different times with drunk friends you thought you could trust with your keys, but you still froze in place every time he made a sound, even as your fingers slipped into his left pocket, the one you’d been staring down since he first showed you this shiny new cage. You went still as he let out a groan, stiffening as he burrowed himself deeper into your shoulder, but you knew you’d get what you want as soon as your fingers brushed against that warm, metallic shape. The key to the rest of his bunker, the key to getting out of here.

The keycard.

Your keycard, now.

Repositioning Izuku to lay against the headboard as gently as you could, you slipped off the cot, your bare feet hitting the pavement floor silently as you found the exit and pushed your prize into its designated slot, your hands steady for the first time that night. There was a small, high-pitched ping, but Izuku didn’t stir, didn’t wake up. You could only hope you’d be out of his reach, by the time he did.

The halls of his bunker were surprisingly empty, considering how expansive Izuku’s organization was supposed to be, but that didn’t stop you from pausing at every turn, holding your breath whenever you heard the sound of another voice, doing your best to imitate the way trained Heroes were supposed to move, when they didn’t get caught. You couldn’t be sure where Katsuki was being kept, hell, you barely knew which direction you should be going in, but there wasn’t much you could do, not beyond picking a hall and hoping it didn’t lead you into the stronghold of Izuku’s labyrinth. You had to be quiet, but fast. You had to be stealthy, but effective. You had to be so, so many things, but…

Apparently you couldn’t be any of those things.

As you moved to round another corner, your back pressed against the wall and heart struggling not to beat any louder than it had to, something latched onto your shoulder, jerking you backward as a hand shot out, sealing itself over your mouth as you haulted, caught between the reflex to scream and the awareness that you shouldn’t attract more attention than you absolutely had to. As a compromise, you didn’t make noise, but you struggled, thrashing and kicking and throwing your elbow into your assailant’s chest, but all your efforts earned were a tightened grip and a soft grunt, throaty but muffled, not meant to be heard.

“Really, babe?” He asked, his voice just as quiet as his sounds of discomfort. “I thought you’d be happier to see me.”

It took you a second too long to recognize that voice, much lower and much drier than the endearing arrogance you’d grown fond of. The voice you only heard while you were sitting in uncomfortable, plastic chairs beside hospital beds, on the scenes of attacks where the dust had already settled and the medics has long-since finished doing what they could. It meant exhaustion, it meant injury, it meant dehydration and desolation and suffering, but god, were you glad to hear it.

You didn’t even try to hold yourself up, not after you realized how many times you’d fallen into the pair of arms wrapped around you. No, you just went slack, letting a grimy, blood, glorious Katsuki support you as you went slack. It might’ve been the relief. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since the last time you’d seen him, but you'd been so, so worried, and just knowing he was still alive seemed to make all the difference in the world. It might’ve been the stress, the adrenaline, you didn’t think you really cared, not as long as you could twist around and wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in his chest as he pulled you closer, entangling his fingers in your hair and pushing a soft, lingering kiss into the top of your head, his touch so much less preformative than Izuku’s, so much more loving. You wanted to melt into it. You wanted to attach yourself to him and never, ever leave his side again. You wanted him to hold you, and you didn’t want anyone to rip him away again.

But, he was already moving back, taking you by the waist and scanning over you, looking for signs of further abuse. “What happened? Did he hurt you--”

“What happened to you?” It was all you could do not to yell, not to scream. You’d been assaulted, but he’d been cornered, he’d almost been killed. “Midoriya was going to… He made it sound like you were already half-way dead. I thought he was going to get to you before I did.”

“With the weak-ass lackeys he sent to do it? Those motherfuckers couldn’t put a scratch on me, not once the kiddie-gloves came off,” He scoffed, smirking confidently, if only to calm you down. You doubted there hadn’t been a fight, there was always a fight with Katsuki, but if he could brag about it, he could pretend things were fine for a few more minutes, long enough to run and make you think everything would be alright, too. “If Deku could kill me, he would’ve done it by now. You’ve got nothing to worry about, not when it comes to me.”

For the first time since you’d escaped from Izuku’s hold, you let yourself exhale, rigid tension melting off in waves. “Promise?

His grip loosened, but any hope you might’ve lost was quickly restored as his hands fell, taking up yours and squeezing lightly. “I promise.”

There might’ve been another hug, another kiss. There might’ve been one, or their might’ve been many, if you had another minute, another second, another moment. But, all too suddenly, all too realistically, Izuku or some force under his control was determined to separate you, this time in the form of flashing blue lights and sirens so loud, you could hardly hear Katsuki curse as he took up your wrist and started running.

You hadn’t known where to go, but Katsuki seemed to. Whether it was through luck, overheard information, or blind inhibition, he found his way to the exit, or, rather, what you had to assume was supposed to be the exit. You must’ve been underground, because the only way out seemed to be a thin, utilitisic staircase, wide enough for one person and so steep, a ladder might’ve been a more practical choice. The climb wasn’t what concerned you, though, you’d scale a mountain if it meant getting a little further from Izuku, but it didn’t seem like that was a choice you’d get to make.

You should’ve expected it. You should’ve seen it coming as soon as the bunker went into lock down, as soon as you’d been naive enough to leave Izuku alone without slitting his throat, first. It made sense. You hated it, but it made sense.

You wouldn’t make it through, because faster than you could run, a thick metal sheet was sprouting from either side of the doorway, nearly blocking your only way out.

You wouldn’t make it.

But, Katsuki could.

He moved the same time you did, scrambling to get a grip on your forearm as you pulled yourself free of his hold, barely bothering to work your way behind him before you shoved Katsuki through the narrow exit, forcing him through the small gap before he could process what you were doing. He might’ve yelled, might’ve tried to clamber his way back to you, but any sound was cut off by the make-shift door sliding into place. Even if any of his curses or rants or screams made it through the barrier, you wouldn’t have been able to hear them. Before you could think to run, before you could think to do anything, something sleek and smooth and strong wrapped around your neck, slamming your back into the nearest wall. A leather glove, as familiar as it was fatal.

You didn’t have to look to know it was Izuku.

You didn't have to, but it wasn’t like he was ever going to give you a choice.

“Congratulations,” He growled, the back of his hand pushing into the bottom of your chin, forcing your head back and keeping your eyes level with his, frozen terror forced to stand on the same ground as swirling, spiraling rage, a lightless flame that burnt at the edges of your vision and made your entire body feel cold. “You saved your boyfriend for a whole three seconds. What makes you think I can’t just send someone after him while I break every single one of your kleptomanic little fingers.”

You swallowed, but you didn’t hesitate. You knew what you were going to say. “You won’t.”

He grit his teeth. “And why’s that, angel?”

“Because if you do,” You started, letting your focus drop to the scuffed cement at your feet. “I’ll never stop hating you.”

There was a disgruntled frown, a move to pull away, but you were the one to cling to him, this time, to throw yourself into his chest and pray he didn’t notice how badly your shoulders were shaking, how much you didn’t want to go on. But, you had to. He’d kill Katsuki, if you didn’t. He might’ve killed you, if you didn’t. “Please, please, just let him go! Do this for me, and I swear, I’ll stay with you.” Izuku stopped, but he didn’t pry you off of him. You took that as a silent cue to continue, to grovel for all your life was worth. “I won’t try to run. I won’t try to fight. I won’t even talk back. You can have me, but you need to let Katsuki go.”

Despite your desperation, Izuku didn’t seem convinced. His fist balled around the collar of your shirt as he tossed a glance over his shoulder, signaling to one of his associates out of the group forming behind him -  a brunette on the shorter side, one who looked like she’d just rolled out of bed to run to Izuku’s aid. “Uraraka, get me their file. There could be a quirk--”

“There isn’t.” It was an instinctive correction, albeit one that burnt at the tip of your tongue as you choked it out. “I mean, you shouldn’t bother. I’m… I’m quirkless.”

There was a pause, a recalculation, and for the second time that day, you saw Izuku’s mind work to twist around a piece of new information, his expression softening as he rearranged formless parts into a more suitable, more agreeable whole. One he could accept, one that let him be angry with Katsuki rather than you. It was revolting. It was sickening. It was pathetic, but you didn’t try to push him away as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest and burying his face in your hair, insecurities boiling the surface in tandem with the jagged, ugly shapes his delusions were so eager to take on. “Poor baby,” He sighed, the words almost lost to the airiness of his voice. “No wonder you needed to get Kacchan as far as possible, I wouldn’t be able to rest if I was in your position, either. You should’ve said something sooner, I would’ve been able to help.”

He continued to fuss, continued to lament your shared limitations as he pulled you through the forming crowd, but you couldn’t bring yourself to listen, you couldn’t bring yourself to think about anything but how his skin burnt where it touched yours. You wanted to pull away. You didn’t want to let him touch you, you didn’t want to let him pretend he cared about you, but you didn’t. You wouldn’t.

All you could do was bite your tongue and hope Izuku loved you more than he hated Katsuki.

[bookstantrash]

A/N: Sorry, I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t. Ghost mode is officially dead. It was stronger than me.

I will, however, disappear from tumblr once Release Week begins, but in the mean time enjoy some words that I wrote.

In which she makes a friend, Part Seven

“Cassian, for Cauldron’ sake, stop with your fidgeting”

“I am not fidgeting, Azriel” Cassian said, eyeing the females training and making sure that Devlon was at least trying to teach them.

“You almost blinded me with your wings three times in the last ten minutes” the Shadowsinger huffed back, taking a step back and putting some distance between them.

Cassian just snorted but did check himself, realising he really was flaring his wings a little, a nervous tick that came out whenever he was distressed with something.

Not that he was recalling his conversation with Nesta during training yesterday, how he had been delighted to see her improvement and her beginning to master her powers.

Not that he was remembering how he could hear her heart beating quickly when he had pulled her close.

Not that he had had to muster every ounce of strength and control he had to not fall at her feet and beg for a kiss, for a touch, for anything when he smelled her scent.

Not that he had felt guilty of not telling her of the Illyrian revolution that was probable to happen.

Not that he was remembering how his heart had stopped when he asked her if she wanted to leave.

He would do that. Would help her walk away. From him, from the situation Feyre had forced upon her. But it didn’t mean it would not hurt him to watch her go.

Didn’t mean he would not reach the conclusion that he had failed her once again.

Cassian thought he and Nesta were making progress, but after yesterday he stopped trying to convince himself of that.

Things between them were awkward when they saw each other again at the afternoon training with Kaelin, and for once he was grateful for the boy’s constant chattering.

It was a good way to take his mind of his worries.

And the way Nesta seemed to relax and almost smile whenever Kaelin said something or nailed move was a relief to Cassian’s troubled heart. It was an accidental blessing that he cherished with all his life.

No, Cassian preferred to think that his actual state of mind was due to all the new documents and information he would have to go through after Azriel’s arrival, and maybe a little bit worried of how Nesta’s and Azriel’s encounter would go.

He knew her and his brother were not close — he had never even seen they talking to one another — but Cassian worried that Azriel’s presence may bring forth uncomfortable memories of the rest of the IC to Nesta, neither having the best relationship, specially after that party at the Sidra in summer solstice.

Cassian could only hope and pray that the little progress he had seen Nesta go through in five months would not go down the drain.

“There are more females today” Azriel noted, taking Cassian out of his daydreaming.

“There are” he looked over the training ring, eyeing the small group of eleven Illyrian females.

It was the biggest number he’d ever had so far.

After the war with Hybern, the death of many Illyrians took its tool in the ranks. Although it was a reason for dissatisfaction to arise, it was surprising to see a number of females wanting to train. Many had lost fathers, brothers or lovers.

They had realised that nobody would protect them except themselves now, and slowly the number of females appearing had gotten bigger.

Some came and stayed only for a few self defence classes. Some were coming steadily for more than one session.

Cassian didn’t care if they wanted to be warriors or not. The fact that they were coming and wanted to learn was enough for him.

“Baby steps Cassian” he thought, hope blooming on his chest for the first time in a long while as Devlon dismissed the group, for once having taught them with more attention.

Cassian suspected Azriel’s presence was a weight on the camp lord’s mind, and an undesirable reminder to try this time.

“I’ve to stop somewhere first before we go back” Cassian said to the shadowsinger, who watched Devlon leave the training ring without a glance in their direction.

Azriel only shrugged, not minding the delay at dinner and indicating that he’d accompany Cassian.

Not long after, both Illyrians were entering a clothier, the bell in the door chiming and announcing their presence.

“Look who decided to pay a visit”

“Now, did the oh so ruthless Emerie miss me?” Cassian smirked, leaning against the polished counter where Emerie was.

“It was not me who was left for two months alone in a cabin” she retorted, her brown eyes twinkling with wicked delight seeing Cassian’s shocked expression.

“You know—”

“Yes I know Nesta, she was here not so long ago for tea” the female answered, as if Nesta going out and having tea with Illyrians was nothing out of the ordinary.

“How—”

“If she did not tell you of our encounter, I don’t think I should be the one to explain the particulars of our meeting” Emerie cut him again, raising an eyebrow in question.

Cassian was baffled.

“Since when had Nesta befriended Illyrans?” he thought to himself, having mixed feelings about it.

In one hand, he was happy she was putting herself out there, meeting people, living.

On the other hand, he felt a pang of jealousy and hurt go through his heart. Nesta had not told him any of that. Had not bothered to tell him of what she did on her spare time outside the morning and evenings trainings with him.

“But did you give her a reason to trust you?” Cassian thought with regret “Did you ask about her day? Did you tell her about yours?”

Trust was an one way road. And Cassian had lost the map which would direct him to it.

He also had to put himself out there. He had to open himself to Nesta if he wanted to mend their already tethered relationship.

Cassian had to stop being afraid of hurting his heart again when he had already hurt hers.

And he realised that not even another heartbreak would be enough to keep himself away from Nesta.

“But I take you did not come here to chat with me” Emerie said, eyeing Azriel, who was looking at her with curiosity.

“Not this time. But do invite me for tea” he grinned, trying to gather his lost swagger “The weather is about to change. I would like to purchase some clothes before autumn ends”

“The usual?” she asked, returning her sharp gaze to Cassian’s face.

“Today is light shopping,” he answered, dropping some coins on the counter.

Azriel shot him a puzzled look, but Emerie understood him just fine.

She gathered some clothes, and Cassian noticed that she also placed small sized ones too.

Emerie no doubt knew about Kaelin.

And she knew that Cassian would not let the kid go through autumn and then winter with hand me downs and fixed clothes, no matter how good of a seamstress Nesta was.

If Azriel noticed the clothes, he didn’t let it show.

Cassian also thought his brother was too busy inspecting Emerie to noticed anything else.

It had surprised him too the first time.

A female with a will strong enough to fight to be the sole owner of a shop in a place like Illyria.

Emerie had a fire that reminded him of Nesta. No wonder both females had somehow found their way to each other.

“Oh, please put this too” Cassian said, and quickly grabbed a leather strap he had spied on one of the shelves.

“Have you lost another one? I swear, you go through this things as if they’re water” Emerie ruffed, placing it with the rest of the order.

“It’s not for me.”

“Thinking of gifting it to Nesta?” Azriel said with a chuckle “Tell her to braid her hair with it?”

“As if Cassian was stupid enough to gift it to a Lady to tie her hair with” Emerie snapped, and Cassian laughed at the shocked expression on Azriel’s face “He knows her better than you think he does.”

“Charming as ever Emerie” Cassian said, gathering his purchase and bidding the female goodbye.

This time, Cassian didn’t fail to notice how his brother’ shadows were agitated.

And how they kept trying to go back to the clothier.

~•~

Cassian stopped breathing. Stopped living altogether as he looked at Nesta.

Nesta, who was sitting on the couch, reading.

He didn’t even have a mind to say how she did not light the fireplace, not as he saw what she wearing.

Because Nesta Archeron was not wearing one of her usual dresses.

She was wearing the clothes Cassian had left in her drawer all those months ago, when she had first arrived at Illyria. Clothes he not seen her ever wearing.

Until today.

Cassian had seen Nesta wearing pants. Hell, he saw her almost everyday now wearing the leathers, and his reaction at their first training was not so different as to when he had seen her at the war.

He had to constantly remind himself to breath and think with his upper head. To not make a fool out of himself.

But this time it was different.

Because Nesta was wearing leggings.

Mother’s tits, what had he been thinking when he left those leggings in her drawer?

Nesta wore dark leggings and a burgundy sweater, a little big on her due to her still too thin figure, something Cassian hoped to change.

And her hair. Cauldron, her hair was not on its usual coronet, but a loose braid, a few strands of her light hair falling over her eyes.

Cassian wanted to brush them behind her pointed ear.

Wanted to kiss and mark her slim neck. Feel her pulse under her soft skin.

Wanted to cover her body with his wings and scream at Azriel to leave.

But he did none of that. He willed his body and his temper to behave, and cleared his throat, making Nesta look up from her book.

Even though he was sure she had been monitoring their every breaths as soon as they arrived at the cabin.

“Hello Ness, did you have a pleasant day?” he tried, wanting to test her mood.

“I was having one until someone decided to disturb it” she answered, but Cassian noticed she did not put so much bite in her words as she did when she truly was annoyed “And don’t call me that”

“Well, I come bearing presents” doing a mocking bow and bracing himself for the worst, he looked at Azriel.

The shadowsinger’ Siphons gleamed, and a brown package appeared on the small table in front of Nesta.

“What is that”

A memory of a conversation during Winter Solstice, outside among the snow, resurfaced, and Cassian quickly shut it down.

“Tell you and ruin the surprise?” Cassian faked outrage, placing a hand on his heart “As if I could do that. You will want it.”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

Cassian resisted the urge to close his eyes and scream in pain. Those words, that memory, kept appearing against his better wishes.

He had been an asshole.

Had regretted his words the moment they had left his mouth.

He had wanted to get a reaction from Nesta. Do it the way it usually was between them.

Blown being met by blown.

Fire against fire.

He had been stupid to think it would work.

Had been even more stupid to not apologise afterwards.

But this Nesta was not the Nesta from his memories. Was not the Nesta from a year ago.

He could only hope her reaction would be different.

“Are those... are those books?” Nesta asked, trying to hide her surprise as she opened it, reading the titles.

“I thought you would have gotten bored of reading the same books over and over again” Cassian said, hoping he didn’t sound as nervous as he thought he was.

“And they must be more interesting than my military books” he added, indicating the long forgotten book Nesta had been reading when he arrived.

Nesta only looked at him and slightly dipped her chin in gratitude.

Cassian wanted to dance in happiness at that.

“Good to know that now you have a personal delivery boy to get whatever I want” Nesta said, directing her words at Azriel.

“As if I would do it for free” he snorted “Cassian promised to cook my favorite dish in payment. He’s the errand guy.”

“He does seem to like to be bossed around” she commented innocently, and that earned her a rare grin from Azriel.

“He also requested children’s books” the shadowsinger eyed her figure and raised an eyebrow “You two need a chaperone up here?”

Cassian tensed, not knowing what to expect from Nesta.

“Are you looking for a new job? Playing spy getting too boring?” Nesta replied, also raising a perfect eyebrow mockingly.

“Perhaps” was all the shadowsinger said, and Cassian took that as a cue to get between them.

“They’re for Kaelin, I thought they’d be easier books to read for now than the ones we have here”

Cassian had asked Azriel to get some old myths books for Kaelin, nothing too childlike but also not too difficult for him. He hadn’t wanted to offend the kid by giving him something too easy, having seen his progress with Nesta.

“And who is that anyway?” Azriel asked.

“He’s our new roommate” Cassian joked, not failing to notice how Nesta had flinched slightly when Azriel had asked about Kaelin.

“Kaelin is too young to live like he had been living” Nesta declared, stiffening her spine “I took him in. And he’s going to stay here”

Azriel said nothing, his shadows seeming to catch something in Nesta’s voice, and his eyes softened.

“I’m sure he’s nothing but nice if he’s keeping up with Cassian” he attempted “I’d like to meet him”

Just then, they heard the door opening.

“Ah, there he is!” Cassian exclaimed, a smile appearing.

That smile, however, weakened as Kaelin came into view, quieter than usual.

And Cassian thought he’d have to be the one to wear that leather strap in the end.

For Kaelin’s hair — once a wild mess of curls, who constantly feel on his eyes — had been sloppily cut, no curl at view.

In fact, he looked nothing like Kaelin at all.

There was a tension in him that had not been there before, the young Illyrian brown eyes’ seeming to look bigger on his face now that they were not hidden by his bangs anymore.

And the short cropped hairstyle that Kaelin now displayed also made the fresh bruises on his face even more alarming.

•

Fixed tag list: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arin1030 @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @allilal @sensitiveillyrian @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13 @silvernesta @bri-loves-sunflowers @queenestarcheron @imwritingthesewords @vasudharaghavan @rainbowcheetah512 @darkshadowqueensrule @letstakethedawn

{Please let me know if you’d like to be added in Fixed Tag list}

[plasticnightmaredoll]

Mortal Kombat (2021) Review

Well, well, well....here we are, a Mortal Kombat movie -- not the first, obviously. I will say, it's much better than both films from the 1990s. I will also say that, for the most part, I enjoyed it more than "Mortal Kombat 11" and its garbage DLC "Aftermath."

Come for me all you want, but I am standing by my thoughts on that game and its DLC.

Overall, I did like this new "Mortal Kombat" movie. It was entertaining. However, I have...a lot of issues with it, too, pertaining to lore, acting, and special effects.

What was the best part of this movie? If I had to pick one? Oh, definitely Hiroyuki Sanada as Hanzo Hasashi/Scorpion. He is one of the best Japanese actors working today. He's one of the best actors working today. Having him play such an important character was probably the best choice the producers made.

Also, quick side note: Hiroyuki is 60 years old. HOW?! I mean, he doesn't look 20, but 60? I have my doubts.

Also, this is the first time I've heard him speak English. Interesting.

Another wise decision the producers made for this movie is casting Josh Lawson as Kano. I don't like Kano. He's a dick, but Josh gave the idiot a sort of douchebag charm that you couldn't help but be amused by.

So, what did I like, broken down:

Josh Lawson and Hiroyuki Sanada

The opening scene and final fight were the best scenes in the movie. Fantastically done, both of them.

Some cute little references to MK lore: a picture of Nightwolf, the use of "flawless victory," the use of "fatality," some suspiciously MK-sounding music cues, the massive statue of Shao Kahn...There were some nice fan service moments.

The fights, even the training ones, were all entertaining. Kind of like with "Godzilla vs Kong," the action is one of the strongest points of "Mortal Kombat" (2021).

The concept of the dragon brand to indicate who would fight in MK tournaments was actually a great choice. It does give the writers an excuse to not worry about including EVERY MK character; only the ones who have been "chosen" can fight at this time. It makes sense, it works, it's intriguing.

Kung Lao slicing Nitara in half (Sorry, Nitara -- love ya, Girl!) with his "spinning hat" technique was probably the most Mortal Kombat kill of the movie. It was extremely graphic, bloody, gross, over-the-top...it was perfect.

Hanzo toasting Bi-Han with his classic fire breath was a badass move if I ever saw one.

I did like how Mileena's mouth "worked" in this movie. She had sharp teeth and reddened skin(?) around her mouth to indicate that there was something not quite right with her face. Then she gets pissed later in the movie and opens her jaw completely, revealing an almost snake-like mouth, the skin tearing in the process. It was pretty badass. I liked it.

I actually liked Raiden a lot in this movie. I don't particularly like him in the games (don't come for me -- it's just my opinion) but I thought he was awesome in this movie, a truly intimidating but wise presence. His lack of full assistance made more sense in this movie, too (again, don't come for me because this is just my opinion).

The special effects were sometimes quite good. Sub-Zero's ice powers were well made, for example. Another example is Goro, who was fantastic (so much better than he did in the 1995 movie).

The backstory behind the main weapon of Hanzo was a pleasant surprise: it was a gardening tool to being with, and he just so happened to find it and turn it into a weapon.

Mixed thoughts:

The acting was decent overall. The only two I thought did great were Josh Lawson and Hiroyuki Sanada, but everyone else was ok. Some of the performances got a little hammy at times, but...I'm not going to take too many points off for that.

I liked Mileena but also was disappointed. She wasn't as malicious and flirty as she normally is; like she was watered down in this movie for some reason. However, she still was a dangerous fighter and her mouth was crazy! 👄

What I didn't like:

Some things didn't look so great. When Jax lost his arms, it looked...well it looked like blatant CGI. The lighting barrier Raiden created to protect his fighters from Shang Tsung looked pretty cheap as well. Some set pieces looked a bit too much like set pieces. I know we're on a set because this is a movie. However, when it looks kind of obvious, it really distracts you. I know this is a Marvel movie or something, but I think the special effects and sets could have looked a bit more refined.

I preferred the Quan Chi twist in regards to the death of Hanzo's family. It provided a much more complicated revenge story, and...I just think it was a better choice than making Bi-Han the murderer, like in this movie. I get that if they did use the Quan Chi twist, this movie would have become, like, 5 hours long or something, and would have had yet another character to develop (or attempt to develop). Still, it's not my favorite take on the Sub-Zero vs Scorpion story. So...meh.

Reptile looked impressive. He was more like a ... reptile than usual, you know, as opposed to a humanoid reptile creature. However, he didn't speak and didn't wear any armor, and his role in the movie seemed forced. It felt more like a badly executed fan service moment, like, "Heeeyyyy, it's Reptile, Guys! Ok, kill him because we have too many characters already...."

Cole was a likable guy, but I didn't see a point in his character being in the movie. He isn't an MK character from the games, and this just doesn't seem like the time to make a new character for the franchise. There are so many more MK characters to choose from, I think they could have avoided making up someone.

At the same time, though, this movie does suffer from having too many characters to focus on: Cole Young, Kano, Sonya Blade, Jax Briggs, Liu Kang, Kung Lao, Reptile, Mileena, Reiko, Kabal, Shang Tsung, Raiden, Hanzo Hasashi/Scorpion, Bi-Han/Sub-Zero, Goro, Nitara...I mean, damn, that's a bunch of characters to cram into one two-hour film. People who know little to nothing about MK may not be bothered by this, but fans like myself most likely will feel disappointed with how certain characters were handled in the movie.

Reiko, what...did they do to you? Did...he even need to be in the movie? I mean, he was just.....there.

Having the concept of "arcana" was just...I don't know. It wasn't a terrible idea but it also made things even less believable. No one got their unique traits due to some sort of weird-ass prophecy or whatever in the games. I suppose the writers used this "arcana" thing as a way to keep the movie flowing and avoid having it be hours long. However, it just didn't sit right with me.

I know this movie is only two hours but I would have liked a little more development for Mileena, Reiko, and even Kabal. Kabal gave us the short version of what happened to him but, again, it was so quick. Like, blink and you'll miss it. I think Mileena and Kabal are two very interesting characters in MK, and having them be so one-dimensional was disappointing.

Hanzo was barely in this movie. It seemed....weird to me. Bi-Han was out there wrecking everyone's shit and Hanzo was somehow trapped in the Netherrealm until Cole was forced to fight Bi-Han one-on-one? I mean, eh? They chose the absolute best actor to play Hanzo but didn't use him much.

I was so disappointed to see Kung Lao killed off. I mean, characters that die in MK games don't always stay dead but still....he was so much fun in this movie (as he should be).

I didn't care for the portrayal of Nitara at all in this movie.

I didn't hate "Mortal Kombat" (2021), but I didn't love it, either. I'd watch it again, and I would watch a sequel, but there is definitely room for improvement. There is a lot of potential for the next MK movie(s) to be much better (this movie had clear potential, too, to be honest). I just hope that maybe the writers will realize this if a sequel is made.

Final grade: C+

[vemuabhi]

Insecurities - Benn Beckman X Male Reader

Requested by Sletza147 (wattpad)

Pairing : Benn Beckman X Male! Feminine! Reader 

Word count : 2.1K

A/N : There are a lot of people who are not truly accepting who they are because of this judgemental society. Everyone needs to be given a chance and be appreciated for who they are. I loved writing this request because it was really meaningful and lovely. If a person reading this is not accepting their true self because of this society, I just want to let you know that you are amazing and you are worth everything. Stay strong and love yourself!

Listen to  Scars to your Beautiful (Clickable). Its a song I really love which show the worth of every person. I was thinking about this song as I wrote this.

Warnings : Angst, Alcohol, Comfort and then happy ending.

You sit in the corner table of the bar as you chug the glass of beer in front of you. Was it the 7th or the 9th glass? You didn’t know. You didn’t care. All you wanted then to do was to drink away all your problems.

‘Why should it happen to me’, you thought as you clenched your wrist. You placed the glass on the table with a thud and walked towards the podium where some musicians played music. The bar seemed livelier now. You stood on the podium and turned around. Took the mic in your hand and started to sing a song as the musicians played music. You were singing a popular song so everyone cheered you and some even joined you while you sang. This time this lively group were really nice too.

After the song was finished, everyone clapped for you and you bowed. You tried to get down the podium, but as you were drunk, you slipped. But in an instant strong hands stopped you from falling.

“Ah! Thanks”, you said as you looked at the person. He was a tall man with raven black hair. He had a cigarette in his mouth and sharp black eyes.

You pulled away from him and made your way back to your spot. Other people started to sing and dance. Another glass came to you. You this time slowly sipped it. Then the same man with black hair came towards you.

“Is this place taken?”, he asked.

“No. As if anyone would want to sit and drink with me”, you answered as you gave him a weak smile. He sat in the chair and asked, “Why wouldn’t anyone want to sit with you? You seem like a really fun person”

You laughed at his words and asked for the bartender for another glass. “Well, lets see why not”, you said as you straightened your back. He sipped from his glass as he closely listened to you.

“I am a guy and I walk in a way everyone thinks is wrong for a man, to walk like that. I talk in this high pitch voice of mine, and everyone considers it as wrong, for a man. I try to look a bit colourful, and everyone says its not manly, for a guy. In simple words, everyone says ‘I’m not normal’. Now, tell me who would want to sit with me”, you said as the waiter placed another glass of beer in front of you.

“You are drinking too much”, he said only for you to scoff in return.

You sip it slowly and then continue, “People are really mean. They just don’t care what the other person is feeling. If you want to live, you either have to be rich and powerful or super perfect in every way”, you said and looked at him. You thought he wouldn’t care or would stop listening to you, but he kept listening.

You sighed and said, “Many said I was too feminine for a guy to be. Even my family. Also my ex-boyfriend”, you drank some more beer and added, “People love to bully others and especially, when they find someone like me, they won’t hold their horses anymore. You know how hard it is being a gay person. It would become even harder for feminine gay person like me. Where ever you go, people judge you. So, here I am, just like every week. Drinking to reduce the pain in my heart”, you smiled at him as you finish your glass.

“Sometimes, I wish I was normal”, you end with a fake chuckle. The man in front of you listened to every single word of yours carefully.

He drank his beer and placed the glass on the table. He looked sternly at you and said, “You are normal. You are, even if you agree or not”, he said as he indicated for another glass to the waiter.

He turned towards you and said, “There is nothing in this world, which is perfect. Yes, people judge, talk and bully. But if you prove, not to them, but to yourself about how amazing you are, you won’t be sad and drunk like this. Most people are trash and talk bad of one who is hard working, talented and good hearted. That’s hoe people are. If you want to become strong, work hard for yourself. If you want to achieve something, achieve it for yourself. Not for the sake of others. You are worth of many things”, he said as he smiled at you.

“You are already perfect. If you want to become even stronger, come join our Red hair pirates. We won’t judge you”, he said as his hand wiped your cheek. That was when you noticed that you were crying. He was a man who said you were worth it. He got up and placed some cash on the table.

“My treat. Don’t drink too much from now”, he said and left to his original group.

‘He was… he was a pirate and said all those nice things to me’ you thought as you took your belongings and left the place.

The next day you got up with your head killing you. This time, the hangover was worse than previous week. You remembered the man from last night and even if your head was in immense pain, you freshened and went towards the port for any pirate ship. ‘I don’t want to stay here. No person would even care if I leave. I’d die having a fun adventure rather than live with toxic people around me’, you thought as you searched for the ship.

After a while you saw a ship of the red hair pirates, which the man mentioned last night. You saw the man with red hair from the night before. ‘If I remember correctly, he is the friend of the raven haired man’, you thought as you made your way towards him.

“Excuse me, can I talk to you”, you asked the man as he smiled at you and stopped in his tracks.

“Hey! I saw you last night. You are the singer right”, he asked making you chuckle. The intense pain returned back to you and you winced in pain.

“Are you okay?”, he asked and you nodded as you still held your head.

“I saw your friend last night, can I please speak to him”, you asked the man who nodded as he placed his hand on your shoulder and said, “You really don’t seem ok, just come onto the ship. I’ll make sure someone gives you a medicine”, he said. You could only nod at that pain.

He led you towards the pirate ship and took you inside. It was your first time inside a pirate ship and you looked around even though you were in pain. He took you towards a room which looked like a medic room. He told you to sit on the bed and you obliged. He then looked out of the room and said, “Ah! Benn, come here! I need your help”, he said and the same man you were looking for came in. He was surprised to see you there.

“Oh my! You really came! And you met the captain himself”, he said

“What!”, you looked at the red haired man and said, “You are the captain. I… I’m sorry I didn’t even introduce myself”

“Haha, Its fine. I’m Shanks. Benn told me about you last night. So, do you want to become a pirate?”, he asked and you said, “Yes sir, if its ok, can I join your crew. I’ll make sure I’ll get stronger”

“That’s the sprit! Good. Welcome to the crew!”, Shanks exclaimed and continued, “Benn, could you give the newbie medicine, I’ll be back”, the captain left with that leaving you and Benn alone.

“I told you, you shouldn’t drink that much. See what happened now”, he said as he took a medicine from the cupboard and gave it to you.

“Take this. You’ll soon feel better”, he smiled and sat beside you. You took the medicine and it was sure horrible.

You looked at him and asked, “Why did you invite me to be one of the crew? Don’t you think, I may be a spy or a secret marine? How could you trust a stranger like me, not to say was drunk too at that moment?”

He smiled at you and said, “Yeah that’s a good question but, when I saw your tears just because of some words from a stranger. Your tears… they were pure. So, I offered you to come to the crew, to become even stronger”. You blushed at his words and he laughed seeing your red face.

Then began your journey as a member of the Red hair pirates group. The beginning wasn’t easy. The training was really tough. But you didn’t give up. You wanted to make your captain proud of you. He gave you the opportunity to join them. So you were really grateful to him. You trained with all the members but especially Benn. He gave you special attention and made you stronger. You loved visiting the new islands. They were all so different and unique. While you were on the ship, you noticed that the crew had zero sense of money. Getting to one island, the dorks would spend money on every useless thing and be broke for a lot of time.

As you didn’t want that to happen you took the matter in your hands and started to take care of the money. You started to make sure to give everyone equal share and save some for future. And due to your doings, they at least didn’t be too poor. You really had a hard time make sure to keep their sneaky hands away from the money. Fighting them while they tried to take money made you to become more will powered and stronger.

After 3 years, you showed a real improvement in your combat skills and made Benn and Shanks really proud of you. This crew didn’t once treated you differently. They respected you and treated you as one of them. They never mocked you. If anyone ever tried to make fun of the way you are, they beat the crap out of them.

You loved your crew. But especially… one person even more. That was the first mate of the crew. You always had feelings for him but never expressed them. But one night at a bar on an island, a guy suddenly stated to hit on you. You tried to reject him but he wouldn’t budge. As he was becoming creepier, you had no other choice but to search around for any of the members who weren’t completely wasted. You saw Benn was looking at you. It was as if he was waiting for a signal. “BABE! OVER HERE!”, you called Benn. His face slushed red at how you called him. He came towards you and sat beside you with his arm around your shoulder. Just one glare from Benn, made him to run away.

“Huff… Thanks for coming. He just wouldn’t leave”, you said as you drank the beer and continued, “I wish I also had a boyfriend or just be in a relationship. Makino san and Shanks are always making me jealous”, you fake chuckled and placed the glass on the table.

“Do… Do you like someone?”, he asked making your heart skip a beat.

“What if I say I do? What will you do?”, you asked but the latter didn’t even look at you. ‘If I tell it now, I can blame it was a joke right, since I won’t find a chance like this to play it off’, you thought.

You took the beer glass from his hand and said, “What will you do if I say, I like you? Would you then go out with me?”. Everything was silent but as soon as you said that, he looked at you with a stunned expression. You could see the pink hue on his cheeks.

“Yes, i… I’d go out with you”, he said as he turned his gaze away from you. ‘He is blushing! Oh god… is.. this happening? Is this a dream’, you thought as you looked at him with your eyes wide open.

“Wait, were… were you joking”, you asked him but he looked at you more seriously and said, “Why would I joke, in a moment like this?” he exhaled and turned towards you as he took your hand. “Y/N, will you go out with me. I promise I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you. Please be my boyfriend”.

You had no words to answer to his confession. All you could do was nod rigorously as tears slid down your face. He pulled you close to him and you wrapped your arms around his shoulder. 

After a while you went ahead to the podium space where people sing sometimes and took the mic. You took a deep breath and started to sing as people turned their focus on you. This time, you only looked at one person as you smiled and sang.

You don’t have to change a thing the world could change its heart

The scars to your beautiful 

We’re stars we’re beautiful

XOXOXOXO

I hope you liked it! Please forgive me for any mistakes.

Tell me how you feel by giving me a Like, Comment and Reblog. Thanks for Reading!

[seraphsurvival]

episode 1: 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙨 𝙖 𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜

having completed all their challenges for week one it is time for the angels to face the music. with their votes in and team performances judged their final rankings decide who will continue on to become apart of 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇. will your favourite angel soar high or will they fall from grace ?

* note that indented + italic text like this means it is confessional footage *

the iconic seraph intro music played as the cameras focused on the show hosts nova and yen.

“good evening everyone and welcome to...” nova began before yen joined in “seraph!” they chorused.

“this week was a tough first week for our angels.” yen began before looking over at nova who enthusiastically nodded along . “they had 2 challenges to complete: the iconic angel song and a group performance.”

“having to juggle solo performances and group work proved to be quite difficult for some of our angels. both groups had their share of mishaps...” behind nova clips of the angels in their confessionals in tears or looking stressed covered the screen further proving her statement.

“but despite all of this we saw some amazing performances.” nova grinned as she turned back to all the angels on the platform behind her.

“judges, what do you think of our angels this week? who stood out the most to you?” yen questioned turning all focus to the panel of judges.

“i thought this week was fun, we got to see a different side to the angels usual concepts,” hyuna spoke first , making sunmi and j-hope nod along with her. “i personally really enjoyed ricky’s performance, it was so fun to watch. her expressions made it that much more entertaining.”

the camera focused on ricky as she bowed at the praise. her features stretched out in a bright smile as chloe squeezed her hand beside her happy for her new best friend.

“i think mine was yuri’s performance of ‘GOTTA GO’. she surprised me in a good way. i was not expecting her to stand out the way she did but i’m glad she did. i’m proud of her.” sunmi answered.

on stage yuri visibly blushed as she repeatedly bowed. her soft ‘thank you’ making sunmi smile sweetly.

“hmmm all the angels were truly excelled this week ,” j-hope chuckled , resting his head on his hand. “none of the performances were boring. did some have room for growth in technique terms? of course, but pretty much everyone performed well.”

“yeah, yeah, yeah. who was your favourite?” hyuna jokingly pushed making everyone laugh.

“if i had to pick i think my favourite would be summer’s cover of ‘DARE’. her lines were clean and moves sharp. it was great to see her do a much darker concept. you can tell why she is where she is.”

summer nodded happily as a response to j-hope’s comments. she had always been a huge fan of BTS and it took everything within her not to fangirl hearing her idol praise her for her performance.

“what about the groups what did you think?” nova questioned once again.

the judges shared a look with each other before hyuna leaned into her mic, “honestly group one really surprised us this week. im really impressed with their performance of ‘FAKE LOVE’.” the idol leaned forward to be in her fellow judge’s line of sight. “j-hope, was it up to standard?”

“it was definitely up to standard they really destroyed the performance. i feel honoured truly.” he chuckled

the entirety of group one laughed at his comment. each of the angels thanking him in their own regard, their pride evident in their faces the entire time. in juxtaposition the camera pans to team two who’s faces look less than impressed with

“overall, i’d say everyone did great today, yes there is definitely room for improvement but and i don’t think i’d be wrong if i said all us judges are proud of every single one of the angels on a successful first week,” sunmi concluded. hyuna and j-hope hummed in agreement and nodded along to every word she said. she sent the angels a reassuring thumbs up to try soothe the obvious nerves of all the angels on stage.

incase you missed it !

[ WATCH SOLO PERFORMANCES — HERE ]

[ WATCH GROUP PERFORMANCES — HERE ]

the lights dimmed as the entire mood of the studio shifted.

“even though all our angels deserve to soar high sadly for one angel their wings will be cut.” nova spoke, her serious tone emphasizing the tension in the studio.

“before we show the results here’s a refresher on how voting works: you have been voting all week for your favourite angel and those votes contribute 50 points each. these points are added to the group points.” she looked over at yen to signal her to say her next lines.

“but today’s episode has a special twist,” yen turned to the camera with a pause. “two angels will be going home today.” behind the hosts the angels heads snapped up in panic. none of them were aware of the double elimination.

“the first will be the angel with the lowest rank from the losing team, and the other will be the angel with the lowest overall ranking, even if she’s part of the winning team she’ll leave the show today.”

the silence in the studio was deafening. none of the angels dared say a word as they waited in anticipation for the results. the angels stood in the groups as they linked hands to give each other support.

“without further ado, let’s see the results.” nova spoke directing everyone’s eyes to the screen where everyone’s rankings were plastered.

𝙎𝙀𝙍𝘼𝙋𝙃 𝙒𝙀𝙀𝙆 𝙊𝙉𝙀 : 𝙁𝙄𝙉𝘼𝙇 𝙍𝘼𝙉𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙂

* every member of group 1 gets 350 points for placing first and every member of group 2 gets 250 points for placing last *

BAEBI - 1450 ( @whileinvenus )

YURI - 1300 ( @cube-vivid )

SUMMER - 1150 ( @se4sonz )

MIMI - 900 ( @inter-stellar-jyp )

RICKY - 850 ( @unholiied )

HAEJU - 800 ( @hcney-moon )

CHLOE - 800 ( @chloekwon )

EDEN - 750 ( @inter-stellar-jyp )

JADE - 750 ( @nct-krown )

AME - 700 ( @triptychexe )

DAHLIA - 650 ( @d3adfl0wers )

JAY - 500 ( @dulcetgg )

yuri brought her hands to her mouth, frozen in shock.

“i was not expecting to make it another week honestly,” she spoke in disbelief. “after being outshined by ricky all week, i thought it was over but here i am!” she giggled covering her mouth to hide the broad smile taking over her features.

baebi hugged her excitedly. her smile not only reflecting her pride in yuri’s high rank but also her own first place rank. pushing aside her dissatisfaction with their team losing she still was proud of what they’d done.

the same positivity was not felt as dahlia and jade saw the score board. as their team came last they knew someone was in jeopardy of going home but neither of them would’ve guessed it would be dahlia.

frozen in shock jade turned to dahlia who’s hand had flown up to her mouth as her eyes welled up. jade made quick movement to comfort dahlia before she fully broke down.

“don’t let them see you cry you know this says nothing about your talent or potential.” she whispered into dahlia’s ear. the older girl nodded along with jade’s words as she took deep breaths. as much as she was balanced now it still didn’t feel fair.

“dahlia doesn’t deserve this. she is one of the most talented girls here.” jade folded her arms as she turned her head to the side. “i can’t believe dahlia is gone and voice crack ricky is in the top 5. it doesn’t feel right.”

on the other team the girls huddle in an excited hug at their teams first place ranking. their teams ranking is what saved ame that week and she knew it. she had the second lowest rank of her team aside from jay who unfortunately had the least votes that week overall.

“at least some people voted for me”, she spoke to the camera as she let out a sigh. “i’ll just have to work extra hard next week,” she nodded as she encourage herself, trying her best to maintain the smile on her face no matter what.

in contrast to the rest of the girls , jay couldn’t keep her facade up. despite the positive energy around her she couldn’t stop the silent sobs that left her. she didn’t want her journey to end so abruptly, she deserved to stay longer mimi hanged her tightly as she let the taller girl cry into her shoulder. her eyes glossed over along with jays as she knew she was going to miss her, jay was one of the girls she’d grown closest to besides eden.

“i’m obviously going to miss jay,” mimi spoke softly wiping away at her tears. “she’s so talented i’m so sad to see her go. this week didn’t showcase her charms to the fullest,” she shook her head sadly as she sniffled.

the two eliminated girls took a step forward standing center stage as the judges said their last words.

“dahlia, how are you feeling?” nova asked as her teammates lovingly rubbed her back.

taking a deep breath dahlia spoke into the mic that was handed to her. “i’m obviously disappointed. our group didn’t go as planned and i just feel like i didn’t get to fully showcase what i’m capable of.” she sniffles loudly towards the end as she tried her best to hold in her tears.

“dahlia, you’re a talented girl. it's sad because it really felt as if you didn’t know why you were here, i couldn’t feel your passion and you need that to sell a performance.” sunmi spoke her eyebrows furrowed and lips downturned.

dahlia nodded, a sad tight lipped smile on her features as she handed to mic back. she was so focused on the rest of the team not messing up as well as feeling cheated out of the roll of main vocalist played against her. and it was too late to try again all she could do is find the spark that once lit a flame of passion in her and try again outside the show.

“jay,” j-hope sighed as the tall girl bowed her head unable to even look at the judges. “it’s sad seeing you go,” he admitted with a pout. “but i think it’s because you just haven’t found your sparkle yet and i think that’s something you have to do outside of ‘seraph’. but don’t give up and keep up the good work , and I’m sure you’ll be the next big thing.” all jay could do was nod, even having been handed the mic she couldn’t speak a word.

the focus shifted from the bottom 2 girls to ame who although safe still looked as distraught as the other angels.

“ame, you were so close to the bottom this week,” hyuna pointed out to which ame nodded her face sullen and disappointed. “you got lucky tonight but don’t let your guard down,” she pointed at the girl, giving her a knowing look. “something needs to change or you’ll be the next to say goodbye.” she warned. ame nodded once again taking a respectful bow.

the cameras focused back on the two hosts as the girls regrouped behind them.

the two girls descended the platform. dahlia wrapped her arm around jay as she still sobbed uncontrollably. the two made their way off stage waving to the remaining angels before exiting the studio completely and making their way to the dorms to pack up their belongings.

“it’s always sad to see and angel take off, especially so early in the show,” yen sighed sadly. nova hummed in agreement,” but sadly that’s how the show goes.”

“but let’s not focus on only the negatives but some positives. ladies and gentlemen give it up for our remaining 10 angels!” nova cheered making the studio erupt in excited claps and cheers. “congratulations girls you’ve made the top 10 out of hundreds of applicants!” the girls cheered once again as their moods lifted a significant amount compared to the somber mood earlier.

“that’s it for this episode! stay tuned to see how the angels spread their wings and soar through weekly challenges and compete to be a part of the ultimate super group !” yen ran over her signature closing line once again, sharing a sweet smile with her cohost

“thanks to everyone who participated and we’ll see you next week !” nova chimed in mirroring yen’s bright smile.

“goodbye !” they chorused as the 2 hosts waved at the camera before it zoomed out to focus on everyone in the studio.

*results below ! *