#kind of shocked that someone actually paid for a restoration of it

[livingdeadite]

apparently moontrap is on blu ray. an interesting choice, to say the least.

[tangleweave]

Crimson Tide (Drabble / RP)

[ @illbringthechaosmagic ]

An anonymous person has been taunting Stephen that a loved one has been taken captive...

Stephen Strange was not a patient man. He didn't like it when things came slowly, but he had learned how to deal with slow processes, as long as he could be assured of rewards down the line. Even less than slow progress did he like things that threw him off his rhythm. To be interrupted in his work was to invite his wrath, and by the Fates, could he be creative with his wrath.

That had been long before the car accident and the Sorcerer Supreme thing.

But now, the odd woman who had come to him to explain to him, in interestingly explicit terminology, that Wanda was being held prisoner... not only was she an interruption, she was an active irritant. An antagonist? No... not for him. To qualify as an antagonist, there were several things that needed to happen, not the least of which being a need to demonstrate a direct threat. So far she had shown him no evidence that she posed any harm whatsoever, and certainly not within the welcoming room for Kamar-Taj, where two other sorcerers stood at polite but firm attention in the corners.

She was seated in the wooden chair dead center of the room, legs crossed, hands folded in her lap. Her dusky skin and wavy black hair shone in the sunlight that filtered through the ceiling slats. Her accent indicated she wasn't Nepalese, though she could easily be from India or some other adjacent region. She seemed curiously calm for someone in his presence who knew the things he was capable of.

Fine. If she wanted to play mind games, he could play them too. He moved to a cabinet and withdrew a pair of long yellow leather gloves, the cuffs of which were adorned with delicate sigils of black and gold. He had his back slightly turned as he began to don them.

"What now?" he heard her taunt. "Does the great Doctor Strange mean to get blood on his hands?"

He glanced towards her with eyebrow arched as he slid the second glove on. "Obviously not," he said, "otherwise I wouldn't be gloving up."

She thrust her chin out towards him. "You don't frighten me."

"Of course I do. I'm a doctor. Being attended by one is inherently frightening. It means there's something wrong with you. And there must be something deeply wrong with you, in particular, if you thought you were just going to waltz in here, declare that you're holding a friend and ally prisoner, and then not make any demands in exchange for her release." He held up his hands, palms towards himself. "Hadn't you heard? This is Kamar-Taj, where I had my operation to restore function to my hands. These are examination gloves. We don't have the kind of funds needed for single-use non-latex, so we go for longevity instead. After we're done with a particularly... messy... procedure, we use a sodium hydroxide solution to rinse off the pairs we do have. But don't worry, it shouldn't burn your skin too badly, long as I don't touch you for more than a couple seconds."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You are a doctor. Your job is to not harm others."

"Oh, I see." He frowned and tilted his head at her. "Remind me again, what year is it? 2024? That means my medical license lapsed, uh... six years ago. Y'know, shortly after that niggling little part where half the world vanished. And saving all the people that were left over, that was an all-hands-on-deck situation. Things got ugly, if you'll recall. Besides, what do you call it when a surgeon cuts someone open with a scalpel? Surely you would think that was causing harm... but in the pursuit of reducing greater harm, when removing a tumor." He laced his fingers together tightly, securing the gloves about his hands. "Wonder how many you've got." He began slowly stepping towards her.

"There is nothing wrong with me!" she protested, and her legs uncrossed. "I wished to ensure I had your attention before making demands."

"Don't worry, you have it," Stephen assured her. "And you were right about one thing, this doctor doesn't make house calls. So glad to be hosting you today. You're my first patient in months. The last one still hasn't healed up quite right."

"I am no patient!" she said indignantly, shifting in her chair as he continued to advance.

"Then we have something in common, since I'm exactly the opposite of patient," he returned, and he cupped his hands toward each other. A crackling cat's cradle of golden dimensional energy appeared, and when he pulled his hands more broadly apart, it stretched with them. Orange sparks snapped from the strands. Stephen frowned. "Well, what do you know, there's still a little hydroxide solution on the gloves after all." He shrugged. "That's fine, it should all burn off pretty quickly."

She got to her feet. "Your Cauldron of the Cosmos!" she blurted. "It is a relic stolen from the pyramids of Giza--"

Stephen whipped one hand out; the strands of energy wrapped about the woman and sizzled as they touched her, eliciting a shriek. He closed to within inches from her face. "It's an artifact forged by Agamotto the All-Seeing approximately eight thousand years ago. I'd say try again but I don't think your clothes have that kind of time. Where's the submarine?"

A crease formed between the woman's thick eyebrows at the absurd question, but the heat and crackling from the energy whips surrounding her were beginning to convince her of the threat he posed. "I... I don't..."

"Sure, sure, you don't know." He dismissed the whips, then noted the burn scarring on her clothing. "Mmm. That'll be hard to get out. I might know a tailor or two." He gestured at the chair. "Take a seat or that pantsuit's going to look like it went through a king-size waffle iron. And I don't even want to think about what it'll do to your hair."

She glowered at him but did as directed. "What do you mean 'submarine'?" she asked.

"Well, if you don't know where it is, there's not a whole lot of reason for me to explain it to you, is there?" he responded. "Sure makes you look like a schlub, though. Obviously you're not in charge, you're just following directions from whoever it is giving them to you. Whoever they are, they need to up your clothing allowance, and update their K&R policies. It's in my favor, though, they couldn't send an actual professional to negotiate for the Cauldron. I could have given the all-American line... 'I don't negotiate with terrorists.' Definitely what a Sorcerer Supreme dreams of saying to someone." He waved a dismissive hand. "That's fine, though. I've got another movie line I can hand you. 'I've got ways of making you talk.' Impressed?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I am no amateur. I have been immunized to truth serums and measures intended to force me to speak truth against my will. Even you cannot coerce me."

He scoffed and gave her a mirthless smile. "Truth? Who said anything about that? I want you to lie your ass off."

She frowned. "What...?"

He brought both hands up, fingers twiddling unsteadily in odd snaking motions, and gleaming neon-blue energy appeared in the air between them. His hands didn't meet -- one wrist hovered above the fingers of the other -- but the energy they conjured twisted unevenly in a warbling circle that settled about the chair. The thick strands of plasma braided around one another, and once the circle was fully enclosed, the space within was consumed with fierce blue light.

"A sorcerer of Kamar-Taj would refer to this as a Ring of Raggadorr. But a Dungeons & Dragons player would call it a Zone of Truth... with a Strange twist to it. While you're within it, you can't refrain from answering my questions, but instead of wasting my time trying to figure out whether you can actually resist a Zone of Truth, I've sealed you within a Zone of Lies. You're completely incapable of uttering the truth. And when I ask you questions, whatever the truthful answer is, you'll be giving me precisely the opposite one, or as close to the opposite as you're able." He flourished with one hand. "So, test question, do you know my name?"

"...no." The woman looked flummoxed at the answer coming from her own mouth.

Stephen smirked. "All right then, progress. Now, you're in charge of this operation, aren't you?"

"...yes."

"Where on the ladder are you?"

"The top."

Stephen chuckled. "Oh, honey. They really don't pay you enough for this gig, do they?"

"I am paid extremely generously."

"Yeah, that much is obvious."

She stood up from her chair and tried to take a step forward. The blue light surrounding her crackled much in the manner of a Star Trek forcefield, and she jumped back as if having been shocked. She cast a look at Stephen. "I wish to remain in this space eternally!"

Now Stephen had to raise a gloved hand to hide his widening smirk. "I'm considering it," he quipped. "This is a lot more fun than I imagined."

"I am also enjoying it immensely!" she shouted.

He poked a finger at her. "Try saying it with a sarcastic bend to it, if you can, I wanna see how deep this spell goes. Does it affect just your words? You're yelling so I can tell you're agitated, at least."

"I am not agitated! I am free to walk out of this enclosure at any time and I do not fear your powers!" She crossed her arms under her chest and glowered at the floor.

"Well, if this isn't a reflection of parenthood, I don't know what is," Stephen remarked. "But while this is entertaining, I have some actual work to do. So let's talk submarines. Your bosses work out of one, don't they?"

"...no."

"I see. And if I looked all over the world for it, there's only one place I would never find it. Where is that place?"

"...the Laurentian Abyss."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Are you telling me that I can find the submarine in the Laurentian Abyss?"

"No, that is not what I am telling you."

Stephen had to try very hard not to crack a smile. "How very Red October of you. I think the Cauldron of the Cosmos can probably help me along from here... though I'm curious why you would even want it at all. Is there anybody among your employers and co-workers in this little venture that could even use it?"

"To the best of my knowledge, everyone there could. The Cauldron is of no particular fascination or consequence to my employers. They are not at all fascinated by its purported abilities. They would prefer to have Wanda, as a person is far more stable a commodity than an inanimate object. Should you refuse to surrender the Cauldron, my employers are not prepared to brainwash her for their purposes."

He scoffed. "Thought so. You know, you actually make it a lot more convincing now that you can't even say it properly. Should've tried it like this before, you'd have gotten my attention even sooner. Tell you what, you can hang out here while I get this problem sorted out." He turned toward the east hall, which would eventually lead him to the portal door that connected to the New York Sanctum.

"Wait!"

He turned back to her with his eyebrow up again. "Yes, what?"

"I do not wish to know how you knew of the submarine."

This time both eyebrows went up and he rubbed his temple. "Vishanti help me, I'm actually starting to get used to this," he muttered. Then he looked at her more directly. "It's not what you lied about, it's what you told me truthfully. You said straitjacket and shock collar. That's how Wanda was kept secured when she was a prisoner aboard the Raft. The only people who would know that was a successful method are people who saw it in action. But the Raft is stationary. Eventually someone would come knocking. The only way to keep a prisoner like her off the radar is to keep her moving. And aboard an underwater craft, even if she breaks loose, where would she go? Especially as far down as the Laurentian Abyss. So... submarine made the most sense."

The crease in her brow only deepened further. "I understand completely how you were able to make such deductions."

"Yeah, sometimes I even amaze myself." He glanced to the other two sorcerers in the room, then gestured at the woman. "Make her comfortable while she's waiting. But you're welcome to have a little fun with that spell while it's still active."

Without another word, he stalked his way up the hall and found the entrance to the New York Sanctum. A variety of obstacles to the matter at hand pervaded his thought process. If the submarine was indeed in the Laurentian Abyss, it meant that it was so deep, opening a direct portal to its interior would be a death sentence to anyone aboard; the bends would see to that. It needed to be forced to surface, and its own crew made to decompress the interior. He chewed his lower lip in thought. How would he get them to do that?

He was five steps away from the Cauldron when he stopped in place and rolled his eyes. Duh. He'd seen the damn movie. Simulate a radiation leak. It's not as if he was a Master of the Mystic Arts and claimed control over a vast breadth of energies.

"Thank you, Tom Clancy," he murmured as he approached the artifact.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Spark, Ignite, Detonate, Explode ~ Mammon x Reader

Trust is such a feeble thing to have in someone - It is build up and takes so long, and yet, it disappears faster than the blink of an eye.

It starts off with only something little, yet repeated, like the spark you get from hitting stones together to ignite the fire inside someone’s heart. And yet, few know that the heart is a fragile gunpowder bag, that one detonated, it shall explode and destroy everything in its proximity never to be restored to its former glory again.

Only ashes, ruin, waste and death...

---

“Yooo, how’s my fave human doin’?” Mammon’s usual lighthearted voice echoed through the halls as he rushed to your side, putting his arm around your shoulder, pulling Y/N closer into his side as they walked together to the next class. “Nothing out of the ordinary, Monnie. You, however, seem rather happy. Did something good happen to you recently?” Y/N lifted her head up to gaze at him with her usual, passive smile. “Yeah, actually, it did! I just got a great deal on an Akuzon item I sold! I got 500 thousand Grimm! Isn’t that awesome? I can go get new brand jacket and shades!” he laughed in glee, making her clap as a congratulation. “That’s awesome, Monnie! You gotta show me what you’ll be getting! I’m sure your next photoshoot is gonna be so great that your pics will get on the cover!” She grinned, which made him flustered, and yet, his grin was even wider. “Hahaha, of course! I am THE Great Mammon, after all! How ‘bout this - After my next photoshoot, when I get paid again, I’ll take ya out for dinner. How’s that sound, hmmm? Just us two, at Ristorante six, my treat.” he smirked, trying to look macho, but it only made her chuckle at his poor attempt. “No, that’s too expensive. How about going to the pub for a drink? We can go to The Fall, if you want! They have great music, and the drinks are good, and at a reasonable price!” Y/N winked at him, which made him blush harder. “You’re the perfect being, Y/N! Always thinkin’ of me!” he gave the girl a side hug, as they got in their shared desk in the classroom.

The girl, as she wrote her notes diligently, knowing very well that the white haired demon never bothered, and would always borrow hers, started idly pawing at the neck of her shirt, as was her habit, to play with her dangling necklace...

Only to realise there was nothing hanging around her neck.

A pang of panic shot through her veins as she hit her back on the chair seat, touching her neck, and inside her shirt, realising that it was gone. Frowning, she tried to remember if she even put it on in the morning, before getting dressed, but there was no memory of it. She was certain, however, that the previous day, she placed the necklace on her study desk, before going to take a bath...And since then, she has no more recollection of its presence.

Waiting nervously, bouncing her leg, tapping her fingers and biting her lip so hard that she drew blood without realising, making her friend concerned, yet not figuring out the cause for her concerns, as soon as the class was over, she sprung out of that place faster than the speed of light, rummaging through her whole room, yet finding absolutely nothing.

Taking a few deep breaths, to keep herself level-headed, she went to the brothers, who were having lunch, and took out her D.D.D., showing them a selfie she took, where the necklace was easily noticeable - Silver chain with an emerald stone.

“Have you guys seen it around? I’m afraid I might have lost it or misplaced it...” she asked, clutching the phone close to her chest in worry. “I haven’t seen it, sorry.” Satan said, thinking back on all the steps he took that day. “Are you sure it’s not in your room? It could have fallen behind the bed, desk, or some furniture, right?” Asmo asked, frowning a bit. “No luck...I searched every inch of the room, and nothing. I’m at my wits end...I tried using all spells I know, and still nothing. It’s almost like it’s not in RAD or the Dorms anymore...” her bottom lip quivered softly. “Hey, Levi, didn’t we see this necklace somewhere on the internet last night, when we searched Akuzon?” Belphie turned abruptly to his brother, who gasped, nodded, and ran to get his laptop. “Akuzon...? It couldn’t be...It’s was a very cheap necklace from the human realm...Well, it’s very old, and handmade, but still.” Y/N sighed, putting her phone back in her pocket. “Here, Y/N, drink a glass of hot chocolate, it will help you calm down a bit.” Beel raised, handing her a cup of hot chocolate. “Thank you, Beel, I appreciate it.” she smiled softly, looking down at her mug. “Ah, you were right, Belphie! Look, this is it, right?” Levi turned around the laptop for everyone to look. “Huh...? It even has the engraving on the back of it...How...Could this happen...? Yesterday it was in my room, I’m certain of that, so...?!” she freaked out, especially looking at the price at which was sold, and something clicked in her mind, making her gasp in realisation. “Ahhh, great, I’m late for lunch again. Beel, you better not have eaten everythin’!” Mammon’s cheerful voice seemed to make everyone go silent, and it was like a common thought in their mind. “Mammon...Can you tell me what exactly did you sell on Akuzon that you got so much money from it?” Y/N muttered, gritting her teeth, trying to keep herself grounded. “Huh? Why d’ya ask? T’was some necklace I found layin’ around. Why?” he asked, sitting down at the table to eat. “I can’t believe it...” her voice was soft, yet full of rage, almost destroying the mug in her hands. “Of course it had to be him...But to think he’d steal from the only person who defended him...That’s a special kind of scumbag.” Asmo groaned, shaking his head in disbelief. “You really are the worst, Mammon. I can’t believe we are related.” Belphie glared at his elder brother. “Huh?! Whadya mean?! Shouldn’t y’all be happy for me, for getting such a great deal for a cheap necklace?!” he yelled at them, not realising the dark aura surrounding the person behind him, “He really is an idiot.” Beel’s eyes softened, looking with pity at the girl. “I can’t say that I’m surprised...Maybe just disappointed.” Satan looked at him in disgust, then shifted his gaze away, unable to look at him any longer. “Oi, what the hell’s wrong with y’all?! What’ve I done?! Y/N, help me out here, give ‘em a piece of your mind!” Mammon turned around to look at the girl, only then realising that she had tears streaming down her face, and her small form was trembling softly. “The Lord of Shadows would never do something to hurt Henry..But what can you expect from someone who would sell Seraphina’s UR+ figurine anyway?” Levi shook his head. “What have you done...? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! YOU SOLD MY NECKLACE ON AKUZON, THAT’S WHAT YOU’VE DONE, YOU STUPID, SCUMMY, BRAINDEAD DUMBASS!” she yelled at him, pouring the hot chocolate on his head, making everyone gasp in shock at her reaction. “So what?! It’s just a cheap necklace! I can buy you 5000 ones just like that! Even the stone wasn’t genuine! I made you a favour by riddin’ you of it!” he got to his feet, arguing with her, not expecting her to get violent, grab him by his uniform blazer, shaking him with all the force she could muster. “YOU CANNOT BRING THE MEMORIES BACK, YOU DIMWIT! It was a goddamn family heirloom! It was the only thing I had from my family! My mother gave it to me before she died! How could you do this to me, Mammon?! I thought we were friends!” when her all her strength left her body, she started sobbing softly, which made the demon stiff as a board. “I-I-I...H-How was I supposed to know that?! C’mon, I don’t read minds, y’know?” he argued, but his voice was nothing higher than a mutter. “I told you...I told you before...I told you, god damn it...I told you my mum gave it to me on my birthday...And then she died...I told you I have no family to return to...I told you all the women in my family had the same nickname, and it’s engraved in the back of the pendant...I told you...But you never listen, do you? All you care about is money...Money...Money...And only money...You are such a disappointment...I can’t believe it...” her voice held a myriad of raw emotions, ranging from hatred, disappointment, confusion, rage, anxiety, nervousness, sorrow, nostalgia and many more - All that seemed to transfer to Mammon right away, as he started panicking. “Look, I-I’m sorry, okay?! I didn’t mean it! I screwed up, I’m sorry! Please don’t be mad at me!” he looked like a kicked puppy, but the girl didn’t care anymore. “I take back all the good things I said about you. I take back all the times I bothered to defend you from the insults and bullying of your brothers. I take back all the pity I had for your stupid puppy face. I take it all back. You are nothing more than a greedy disappointment. I am no longer your friend, I never want to see your face again, nor hear your voice, and I refuse to be anywhere near your. Goodbye, Mammon, we are never going to be friends again.” she roughly pushed him on the chair, making everyone look at the scene, speechless. “I respected you, cared for you...Fuck, I really loved you, Mammon, more than anyone would know...And look how you treat me. I guess that’s what I get for trying to babysit some braindead fuck up who cares for no one but himself. Disgusting.” she sneered, glaring at him with dead eyes, before turning on her heel and going to her room, passing by Lucifer, who looked at her with confusion.  “Did something happen...?” he asked, unsure of what to do. “I won’t be going to class tomorrow.” she muttered, passing by him and going to her room.

For the remainder of the day, she answered no texts, nor calls, and ignored everyone who tried to enter her room, going as far as to put spells on her door so that if they tried entering her room would get transported in the underground pool, and the yelling and knocking on the door wouldn’t be heard, no matter how hard they tried.

All the time, she tried her best to track her the person who bought the necklace, explain to them that it’s not magical and that it’s just a cheap, old accessory with emotional attachment, and that she will pay them all the money back in return for it.

500k for a necklace...What a robbery...

And the respective witch asked for double, to compensate.

That’s double the robbery.

But what could she do...?

Y/N checked her bank account, realised that she has already 800k Grimm she held on, to buy everyone gifts at the end of the year, to thank them for being such a great family for her, but that was going to be for another time.

The witch said they should meet at the end of the week, so she had enough time to raise at least 150k...And for the rest of the 50k, she’ll have to borrow from someone.

At school, every time she saw him, Y/N ignored Mammon, or did a spell to push him away, doing exactly as she promised she would do, and it was clearly affecting him.

It went the same in the classroom, as they were deskmates...

“Hey. Hey, Y/N. Y/N, listen to me! I’m sorry, okay? Don’t be mad! I-I’ll make it up for ya, okay?! How ‘bout I take ya to a Karaoke night at The Fall, as we said? O-Or lemme treat ya at Hell’s Kitchen -...Or better, Ristorante Six!” he kept rambling, which made the girl tsk, take out the scissors she had in her bag, cutting her finger and drawing a blood symbol on the back of her notebook, slammed it with her palm, before touching his cheek, and so, no matter how much he tried to speak, he wouldn’t be heard.

And when eating meals together...

“Yo, Y/N, my favourite human! Look what I brought! There’s this super VIP place that makes the best pizza, and I got one of each taste, so ya’ll see which is your fave!” he chirped, trying his best to stay cheerful as he sat down to her left, only to see he stop chatting with Asmo, raised her plate, and sat on his right, between the 5th and 4th eldest brothers, completely ignoring him.

It continued when he started getting bullied again, for who knows what reason...

“Not so smug now that Y/N isn’t taking your side anymore, huh? Well, you deserve it, after all. You really fucked up with her, y’know?” Belphie glared at his brother, leaning on Beel. “I know, okay?! I keep tryin’ to make it up to her, but she doesn’t even hear me out! What can I even do?!” he asked, obvious desperation in his voice. “Nothing, at this point. She’s working all night to get the money to pay the witch who bought the necklace from you. I don’t know how you can make up to her.” Beel shrugged, munching on his goat cheese tartar burger. “I heard from Satan she has to pay double. If I had to throw away all the money I kept for safe keeping, then have to be forced to work and borrow more to get to 1M Grimm just to get my prized possession back...I’d have killed you.” Belphie scoffed, putting his pillow on Beel’s shoulder, ready to take a nap. “Oh...I...Had no idea...” the white haired demon muttered, hanging his head, feeling his heart being ripped apart at the suffering he caused the person he holds so dear to his heart. “You never know anything you should know, why are you surprised.” Belphie muttered, shrugging “Imagine all the food you could buy with that much money. Maybe I should bring her a burger too, it may make her smile. Haven’t seen her smile since that day.” Beel nodded, getting up, with his younger brother in one arm, while the other hand held a take away food bag.

And the only one who managed to give him any sort of advice was Lucifer...

“I’m at my wit’s end, Lucifer! What can I do?! Nothing I try works! I feel like I’m losin’ her more and more with each minute...And she’s already gettin’ her necklace back, there’s nothin’ I can do to make her at least stop ignorin’ me...” Mammon sighed, sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace, in Lucifer’s study room, his head held in his hands, gripping at his hair, barely stopping himself from outright sobbing. “Keep on trying. I’m sure she will appreciate the effort you’re doing, even if she’s angry at you now, and rightfully so. The fact that you realised your mistake, and the gravity of it, is the first step towards redemption and forgiveness. Don’t give up...There’s no one who cares for you as much as she does.” the eldest brother sat down next to him, putting his hand on his shoulder and squeezing it reassuringly. “Thanks, Lucifer...I guess it takes time to heal...” he muttered, nodding as a way to thank him.

For the rest of the week, he continued to try to apologise in all the ways, imaginable and unimaginable he could muster, trying his best not to get discouraged by her ignoring him and going out of her way to stay as far away as possible.

However, he noticed how Beel was right, and he hasn’t seen a single uprise in the corners of her lips, there was no glint in her eyes, no warmth in her presence, and no life in her movements. She was tired, and rightfully so, considering the amount of work she’s doing, while also going to classes...

She’s just a frail, little human, she’s going to overexert her brittle body and break! Y/N already sprained her wrist by falling in her plight up the stairs once, a long time ago, and he has already seen her overworking on studying and doing multiple things to please people...

He can’t let that happen again!

But what can he do, anyway...?

On the last day of the week, he desperately tried to search for her, only to overhear a conversation in the library, between her and one of her brothers, and his heart started breaking even more, if that was possible.

“Hey...Satan? Can I ask for your insight on something?” Y/N asked, sitting on the couch next to the blond, who was reading in the library, as per usual. “Yes, what is it?” he asked, closing his book, giving her his undivided attention. “I managed to track down the witch who bought my necklace, and she said she will agree to an exchange deal, if I give her the money back...In double. I need 50k for this afternoon, and I don’t have how to get so much in such a short time, so I’ll have to borrow from someone. Any idea?” she sighed, her lips turning into a self-pitying smile. “I see...Well, honestly, anyone you ask would lend you money, but since you have to hurry, then here’s I’ll transfer you the money you need in your account.” he pat her head, doing as he said. “Thank you, Satan, you’re a true life saver. I owe you everything.” she sighed in relief, hugging him tightly.

Him! She should have picked him! He would give her his heart on a platter to sell, if she asked for it! He would sell every possession he had, including his organs, just to make sure she got her necklace back! Nevermind that it was his fault, even if it wasn’t, he’d have still given you everything he had to make sure she stops destroying her health and start glowing with happiness again.

He missed her angelic voice when speaking to him, he missed the glint in her eyes whenever she hung out with him, or helped him hide from his brothers, he missed the soft kisses she gave on his cheeks whenever she congratulated him on something great he did, and he missed how little and warm her hand was, in his, fingers intertwined, whenever she’d walk side by side. He missed how cute she was in his arms, whenever he’d crash at her place and want to cuddle, and how she was a feisty firecracker filled with justice when he got bullied and insulted by everyone.

He missed her so much...

Now that he had her around him so much, he felt it impossible that she should disappear just like that...And yet, she did, and nothing in his life hurt Mammon more than Y/N hating him.

She’s now on her way to meet the witch, get her necklace back, and here he was, a failure... But a failure who felt like something wrong was going to happen, while he was pacing, and looking at the watch, he noticed it was about time the exchange was to happen...Yet he never picked up where it would be...?

He called all his brothers, one by one, and only Satan seemed to know where she was, so Mammon ran there as fast as the fastest demon could.

Y/N was skeptical, nervous, and afraid to deal with this witch, as she was radiating an evil and intimidating aura, and it was obvious she was heavily overpowering her with her magic.

“I’ve got your money...It’s on my credit card. I will transfer it right away...But please show me the necklace first.” she muttered, holding up her phone, showing the 1M Grimm account she owned. “Good...VERY Good, little mouse. Here is your little necklace...I will give it to you as soon as you transfer the money.” she smirked, making Y/N nod and bite her lip, but doing as she was told. “Here. Did you get it? It says it got sent.” she showed her phone screen again, letting the witch check. “Perfect~! What a good, obedient little human you are...I should have you around as my lackey more often. You’re much more reliable with bringing me money than that stupid Mammon.” she scoffed, using her hand to roughly squish Y/N’s cheeks. “Can I have my necklace now, please?” she tried to say, despite looking like a fish. “Yeah, sure, here you are....Oops! Oh, no, it broke! What a pity~!” she giggled darkly as she she destroyed the necklace, letting the pieces fall to the ground, along with Y/N’s paralysed form. “NO! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! You promised you’d give it back! I have you the money you asked for! Why did you do that?!” Y/N groveled on the ground, trying to desperately pick up pieces of the broken necklace. “You’d think someone who spent so much time with demons wouldn’t be so stupid! Didn’t I just say? You’re so much better than that failure of a Greed demon! You KNOW him! And you KNOW all the brothers! You are that exchange human Diavolo is protecting! Hahaha...! Imagine everything I could do if I held you hostage! I can force Diavolo to marry me, I can have Lucifer and Satan be my consorts, Mammon to constantly give me jewels and clothes, Asmodeus to please me, Beelzebub to bring me food, and Belphegor to make sure my room is always perfect! And that’s only thanks to your idiocy, you little, worthless human!” her grin was wide and scary, as she suddenly grabbed Y/N’s hair, roughly pulling her up, before using her hand to grab her slender neck and squeeze, as a threat and a warning. “Keep on dreaming...That will never happen...And leave Mammon alone, he’s not stupid.” Y/N tried to claw at the witch’s hand, only to get roughly slapped, then got a pain curse put on her, which made her fall to the ground, gritting her teeth to keep from wailing in agony. “Don’t tell me...This stupid little human is in love with that waste of space? Did you know what I fucked him? Long before you even existed in this life. He cried and screamed so much that night, it was pitiful, but also amusing. You’re nowhere close to even be in my league, but you think you can please the Avatar of Greed? You’re really pathetic and delusional, darling.” the witch’s banshee-like laugh resounded through the abandoned field, amplifying the curse, as her voice was only beaten by Y/N’s stifled cries of pain. “You will pay for this.” she managed to say, before she felt a sharp pain in her side, which proved to be a kick in the ribs. “I already did, darling, the moment your stupid Mammon sold your necklace, and you tracked me down, instead of letting him try to get it back. He’s already high in debt with everyone, but he wasn’t stupid enough to be in my debt too...But now, for your sake, I WILL get him, and all of the others!” her voice was dark and menacing...Only for it to suddenly stop, as sudden the pain from the curse.

And yet, a much darker, stronger, overwhelming, suffocating aura seemed to make the whole place look as the abyss just took over.

“There’s one thing to mess with me, Maddi, but it’s another to mess with the girl I love. I don’t care what ya put me through, but as soon as ya try to even look Y/N’s way, I’m killin' ya, and ya did much worse than that. Say goodbye to your life, ‘cause I’m truly pissed off.” next thing that the human eye could comprehend was a flash of black, then a screech, and the sound of flesh being ripped. “Shit, I made a mess...Not very like me...” he muttered, before dropping to his knees in front of Y/N, pulling her into a protective embrace. “I’m so sorry ya had to see me like this, Y/N. I ain’t like this, I promise. I couldn’t stand seein’ ya gettin’ hurt, especially knowin’ it was my fault and I caused all this mess. I did all that, and yet, ya still defended me in front of her...I don’t deserve ya, Y/N, you’re too good for me.” his voice was so soft, so full of pain and regret, that she couldn’t help but throw her arms around him, letting the tears she held on from fear. “I love you so much, Mammon, you have no idea. And you saved me now...Gosh, I was so scared...I’m so glad you got here...I’m sorry I got so mad at you, Monnie, and it was all for nothing. She broke it. I ruined everything.” she sobbed, holding onto him as if to dear life, and he could only cradle her, cooing soothing words into her ear to calm her down as much as he could. “It’s fine...I screwed up, ya did nothing wrong, I promise. I ain’t mad at you, I deserved everythin’. Trust me when I say it, no matter what, I will always love ya, y’got me? Never forget that. You’re my favourite human, and nobody’s ever gonna even dare to think about approaching ya with bad intentions.” he kissed the top of her head, feeling her heart beat at a more normal pace. “I forgive you, Monnie. You will always be my favourite person in the world.” she muttered, raising her head to look at him, wiping her tears with her sleeve and smiling softly. “Eyyy, that’s the smile I was waitin’ for! I missed it so much. I can’t stand ya bein’ sad.” Mammon confessed, his face burning with a blush, but not being able to feel Tsundere in any way, and instead, he held her hands, kissing her knuckles. “I’m really sorry about your necklace. I’m sorry I forgot what ya said, and that I stole it from your room. I promiseI won’t do that again.” he squeezed her hands, looking at her with a sincere look in his gorgeous blue eyes. “I know you’re sorry, Angel Eyes. It’s fine...It’s just a necklace, after all. It’s not good getting overly attached to material things...And I have you, I don’t need any necklaces.” she confessed, fighting to keep the pain away from the thought of the broken necklace.

As she smiled, she quickly took her hands from his, cupping his face and pulling him into a passionate kiss, letting out all the pent up emotions they both had stored in their hearts for so long - All the love, the softness, the gentleness, all that as if afraid the other was a mere illusion and they were afraid they’d wake up and everything happy will disappear.

Mammon knew what Heaven was, and nothing felt better than kissing Y/N and having her close to him, that much was certain for him.

Still in his demon form, he picked her up and quickly got back home, since, after all, he wasn’t the fastest demon for nothing, and brought her back to her room, preparing a hot bath to her, proceeded by lots of good food, snacks and drinks, cuddles and a movie marathon of any film she wishes to see. As long as she was in his arms, safe and sound, happy and smiling, then he couldn’t care less about anything around him.

One week later, unbeknownst to her, things started shifting in her favour, as when she checked to see how much money she had left, she found the whole sum back into her account, then, when she went to Satan to give back the borrowed money, he chuckled, saying the debt was already paid...

And obviously, that was all Mammon’s work, no doubt, and at this point, she knew she shouldn’t even bother trying to find out how he managed to do that, but she was still thankful and decided to order the jacket and shades he knew he wanted, packed in a beautiful yellow and blue package, resembling his eyes.

She left it in front of his door one day, knocking before running away, giggling childishly to herself, and her heart started racing at dinner when she saw him wearing the gifts from her, and he looked gorgeous.

“Woaw, Mammon, that’s a really nice jacket. Where’d you get it from?” Asmo asked, his eyes wide at the obviously expensive item he was wearing. “Quite a lot, but you gotta say, he it suits him perfectly, don’t you think?” Y/N stifled her chuckle, leaning back on her chair with a smug expression seeing everyone’s shocked faced. “Whaaaaaaaaat?! So you made up?! For real?!” Levi gasped loudly. “Yep. I can’t stay mad at him.” she shrugged simply, winking at the white haired demon who was the only who knew the secret. “Why can’t I say that I’m surprised?” Satan chuckled with his usual, passive smile. “What about the necklace?” Beel asked, looking at her with a worried look. “Ah...About that...It was broken by the buyer. Nothing else to be done, unfortunately, so they gave the money back.” Y/N gave him a side smile, coming up with a milder version of the story. “Uhm...A-About that...Uhmm...Y-Ya see...Lucifer’s real cool, y’know? He’s like, super smart, and, uhh...I managed to...Y’know...I-I-I...” Mammon kept stumbling over his words, walking behind her, putting the necklace around her neck that had no more marks from that witch. “I fixed it for you.” he muttered, trying to hide his face in her hair so nobody could see him. “Would you look at that? It looks as if it was never broken in the first place. Who’d have thought.” Belphie let out an amused breath looking at the two lovebirds. “How...? But...It was in so many pieces...Some that we didn’t even find...This is impossible...?!” she kept staring at the necklace, not believing her eyes. “W-Well...Lucifer helped me find the lost pieces...And taught me this spell to get it back to its original form. Wasn’t simple, but...I-I think it’s okay.” he spoke in flustered voice, making the girl squeal with absolute glee. “You’re the best, Monnie! I can’t believe it...! You’re truly the best!” she jumped from her chair, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down in another mind blowing kiss that made the poor demon completely forget himself. “Hahahaha, y-yeah, o-of course I’m the best!! I-I’m THE Great Mammon, after all! Haaaaa!” he tried his best to appear boastful, but the fact that he was flustered beyond belief, making his brothers chuckle at how cute they were.

What a surprise, the cutest human being such a great pair for the cutest demon ( at least by Lucifer’s standards, anyway. )

So maybe, after all, if you have enough will, and a brother who knows great magic, you can reverse the outcome of an explosion of that caliber.

[gallavictorious]

Would you be able to write a lil fic from Kev's POV of Yev's christening party? I just know Kev would find Mickey's "guess what we've been doing, daddy" monologue hilarious. And maybe Kev notices Ian and Mickey being super soft after and realizes they're actually really good for each other?

An incensed roar; a table tossed aside; the sound of glass smashing, and of fists against flesh. Kevin Ball takes a deep breath and closes his eyes and reaches for nirvana. Or for enlightment. Or whatever. He isn't really clear on that whole bit. But he's calm, he's cool, breathing slowly, this is all good, shit was the noise of someone's neck snapping, no, no, he didn't hear that, it's peace, love, all that crap, he's so relaxed –

Shit, this is hard.

Fortunately, someone must have called the police and the police must have been nearby because it's just minutes before the cops storm in to haul off both Terry and Mick. The amount of damage done to the bar is still pretty impressive, Kev sees when he finally opens his eyes with a sigh of relief, but that's okay; the Milkoviches are usually surprisingly good about actually paying for that stuff. It's one of the reasons Kev doesn't mind them hosting their parties here, in spite of said parties ending in brawls as often as they don't.

The other reason is that they'd probably burn the bar down if he tried to refuse them.

Kev looks up from the sad remaints of a chair to catch sight of Ian slipping out the door, after the cops and their captives. There's this look on his bloodied face, something fierce and determined and grimly triumphant, and Kev can't help but frown, suddenly a little uneasy.

Thing is, maybe he should have seen it earlier. He knows he's not the brightest tool in the shed; he's okay with that. He's got V to do the sharp thinking, and besides, Kevin Ball ain't stupid about people. He notices things, and looking back, there's been all these little hints, shit Mickey's said and done in the past few months, and there's that thing he heard from a grumpy Lip about Mickey staying over at the Gallagher house ever since Ian came home. And okay, maybe he'd found that a bit weird, but Kev's been little busy lately by small things like becoming a father, so maybe he hasn't had too much time to worry about where his business partner might be putting his head down, okay. A man can only have so many things on his mind at once. Three maybe. He thinks he's read that somewhere. Or V told him.

But yeah, maybe he should have seen it earlier, but he hadn't. Doesn't get it until he sees them having a clearly heated but quiet conversation over by the side of the bar just before Terry shows up; then something finally clicks. Not quite into a certainty, but into enough of one that he's compelled to slide Ian a shot when Mickey runs off to greet his dad, and isn't exactly shocked when Mickey turns the music off to make his declaration.

Good for you, Mickey, Kev has just enough time to think before Terry charges at his son like a deranged bull and all hell breaks loose. Not that Kev paid any attention to that, because he's a conscienctious objector now; he doesn't only not do violence, he doesn't even see violence.

Now that calm's been restored to the bar, everyone but the most persistent drunks has gone outside to watch the arrest unfold, so Kev follows suit. It's freezing cold, the way only Chicago in winter can be, but he doubts either Terry or Mickey can feel the chill; they're still straining to get at each other, struggling against the police holding them down, and screaming blue murder.

”Get out of my house, you pole-smoking queer!” Terry bellows, but whatever hold he once had over his son must have broken because Mickey doesn't even hesitate, and there's a wild sort of glee in his voice as he calls: ”Fuck you, don't worry about it! I've been staying at Ian's since you've been in the can, bitch! Guess what we've been doin', daddy! We've been fuckin'! And I take it! He gives it to me good and hard and I fuckin' like it.”

That's more than Kev ever wanted to know about Mickey's sex life, really, but he still can't help but grin as Mickey humps the car, giving emphasis to his words. ”Fuck you, I suck his dick and I fuckin' love it.”

Mickey's always been an expressive bastard, unafraid to speak his mind. Kev finds it both hilarious and worthy of respect, though upon reflection maybe there's a few things Mickey has actually been afraid to speak of, after all. Until now, at least.

Good for you, Mickey, he thinks, again.

The cops take Terry away; the guests filter back inside. The place is a mess and the object of the celebration has long since been whisked away by his mother but that's no reason to break up a party on the South Side, so Kev alternates wiping up blood with serving beer after beer after shot of cheap liquor. Everyone seems to be in high spirits; nothing like a good old-fashioned brawl to get the blood pumping on a cold winter's night, and the story of Mickey Milkovich coming out to the whole bar at his own son's baptism party is a good enough story to last a few retellings.

Ian and Mickey are nowhere to be seen, Kev notes, and again there's that sense of unexpected unease, of worry.  He remembers Ian's face covered in blood, the hard look there transforming him from the earnest kid Kev's known since he was in elementary school and into someone he's not sure he knows at all. Ian's scrappy, like all the Gallaghers; bit of a punk at times, and way into that Army crap of course, but at heart he's always been gentle. Hardworking, and caring, and soft in the way none of his siblings were; a good kid, for all that he's gotten himself in a bit of trouble lately, though Kev's not entirely caught up on that.

And now Ian's gone and gotten himself involved with Mickey Milkovich, who is about as far from a good kid as it's possible to get.

That's not to say that Kev doesn't like Mickey. The guy's funny, he has some good ideas and great initiative; he makes things happen, like that whole rub-and-tug business (okay, so maybe there's been a few misunderstandings about how they're to split the money and whatever, but apart from that, Kev's got no complaints about having Mickey for a partner). He also pays for his beer and isn't a bad drunk, both things a bartender knows how to appreciate. So yeah, Kev likes Mickey just fine... but he's not sure he likes him just fine as Ian's boyfriend.

Truth is, while Kev's not scared of Mickey – c'mon – he's not not scared of him either. Sure Mickey's about half his size, but he's ruthless and kind of crazy and has access to fuck know how many guns (that he actually knows how to use, unlike Kev), not to mention a whole bunch of brothers and cousins and whatever he can call upon. He's a criminal, the real kind, and it's probably only a matter of time before he follows his father and his brothers into big boy jail. Kev doesn't judge – you do what you need to get by, and it's bad practise for a barkeep to look down at his patrons anyway – but he can't help but wonder what it'll mean for a kid like Ian to get caught up in all that hardcore Milkovich madness.

For one, he's not sure gentleness can survive it very long, and he'd hate to see Ian lose that kind heart of his; hate to see him freeze and harden. He'd hate to see him give up on his dreams too, though maybe it's too late for that already, 'cause of what happened with the Army and that helicopter...

It occurs to Kev that Ian ran away just after Mickey married Svetlana.

Oh, shit. This must have been going on for years. Gallaghers have always been attracted to trouble, Kev supposes. He tries to stay out of it, for the most part. Live and let live – and let V be the one to make the off-hand judgemental comments or give it to someone straight if need be. Sure, Kev's been there to throw some advice Lip's way when Lip's been particularly stubborn about something or someone, but there's no way he's getting involved in this. Word got back to Mickey that Kev had tried to meddle in his love life, no talk of peace and love and overflowing plates of cabbage would save him from a bullet to the head, and his kids are not gonna grow up without a father.

It'll probably be fine anyway. Not like he begrudges Mickey a bit of happiness, and Ian's a tough kid. He can take care of himself.

It'll be fine.

Kev keeps telling himself that as he starts shooing the last remaining guests out.

---

He catches sight of them just a little later, when he's finally done getting the priest – half a bottle of vodka and two hookers in on his road to heaven on Earth – out the door, and is taking out the trash.

They're laughing. Through the blood and broken teeth, they're laughing. Ian winces with it, clearly in pain, and Kev considers heading over to ask if they're okay, if they need, well he's not sure, an ice pack or someone to walk them home or something.

He imagines Mickey reacting to that latter suggestion and reminds himself of his decision not to leave his daughters fatherless.

Ian and Mickey has stopped laughing, stopped talking, now (and if Kev had been an introspective kind of guy he might have paused to wonder at how easy it is to think of them like that, as one unit, as a couple, Ian and Mickey). Mickey's head is sagging slightly; Ian's looking at him with an intensity Kev can pretty much feel, even from twenty feet away and with Ian's back turned toward him. He knows he should go inside and leave them to whatever it is they've got going here, but he can't quite look away, his concern mingling with curiosity.

As he watches, Ian rises. He walks over to Mickey and slings an arm around his shoulder in half a hug, before softly running his fingers through the other boy's hair and bending down to press a brief kiss to the top of his head. There's nothing sexual about it; it's affection and comfort, offered easily.

Offered gently.

Mickey doesn't shy away from the touch. He leans into the hug; there's a faint smile on his lips as Ian pulls away, and it comes to Kev then that maybe it won't be Mickey's ruthlessness that tempers Ian's gentleness, but the other way around. Maybe Ian saw something underneath all that sneer and swagger that no one else could see, but was always there.

Maybe it really will be fine. Kev thinks maybe he believes it now.

---

A/N: Thank you for the prompt, nonnie! <3

I'm very happy you clearly specified 'lil' because yes, this I can do! Tiny little things I can mostly make happen! Might take me a while, but still. :) It was very interesting and rather more challenging that I had expected to try to get into Kev's head during these moments (though it gave me an excuse to rewatch all of Kev and Mickey's scenes in season 4, which was a delight!). I hope it's somewhere in the vincinity of what you envisioned, even if it didn't really get into why Ian and Mickey would be really good for each other; I think that's a realization that comes to Kev bit by bit over the years. Would love to see some scenes with him and Mickey in season 11.

This ficlet incidentally got me thinking about how the people of the South Side would distinguish between 'regular' people who don't mind breaking the law when given the opportunity and 'real' criminals who makes a living by actively doing so. Seems like it'd be a fine line at times...

Oh, and I do know that tools in the shed tend to be sharp rather than bright, but think that Kev is the sort to mix up expressions (and I feel the need to point this out since I'm not confident enough in my English to trust that this kind of thing will come across as intentional :p).

[kiatheinsomniac]

Unwoven Fate V

[MASTERLIST OF CHAPTERS]

The trip with the courtesans had been a long once and she was glad that she had arrived so early in the morning at Monteriggioni or else she would have missed them. It was nice to have company. She shared her story with the girls along the way; from the attack on her childhood home, being raised by her Aunt and Uncle and that life-changing eavesdrop to her travels across Tuscany.

The young woman did her best to keep her body moving on the horse, trying to stay warm after she had lent her cloak to Lucrezia, an hour into the journey, who had been shivering violently and cursing the bitter cold. The courtesans were good company: they kept good conversation and were an entirely new type of people to (Y/n).

Her Aunt had told her that they were vile women, taking the easy way in life, that (Y/n) should be proud to be unlike them. (Y/n) had acknowledged that this was her Aunt's opinion but had never formed one herself, never having met a courtesan until this day. They had been kind and they paid her respect too, it seemed. And it was a different kind of respect, one she had not experienced before: it was not the obligatory respect that came with her family money and her fancy outfits, it was a respect that she had earned herself by respecting these women in turn, by sharing her generosity with them regarding her cloak and letting some of them ride her horse when their feet grew tired.

The rented horse was stolen by now: she had known that she wouldn't be back in the promised time when she rented it but now a part of her felt bad for taking it away from its owner. Either way, she needed the creature - until she reached Rome, anyway.

Upon arriving, some more girls were waiting at the gates to help carry bags of belongings and lead the courtesans of Monteriggioni to their new workplace in Rome. (Y/n) trailed along behind them, looking around as she travelled. Those same guards were here: the red uniforms with the bull crest. Those bull flags flew from towers, Roman ruins, homes and shops too.

Bull. . . Bull! The papal Bull! She resisted the urge to smack herself in the head: how had it taken her so long to figure it out? Was the Pope on a quest to conquer Italy? To divide or to unite?

Either way, she followed the courtesans, the group of girls patiently waiting as she left her horse discreetly in a stable, not wanting to pay to have it watched. Her money was running thin as it is.

After a while of walking (hearing the calls and whistles of men for the girls all the way), they arrived at a grand building, covered in Roses and seemingly recently restored. Courtesans waited outside and Lucrezia stopped at the threshold to hand (Y/n)'s woollen black cloak back to her.

"Thank you for your kindness and company, we've all enjoyed you coming with us." The blonde smiled, leaning forwards to give her an amiable hug. (Y/n) froze for a moment before returning the gesture, wrapping her arms around the woman and squeezing for a moment before they both pulled back.

"It's not a problem at all - I'm thankful that you let me come with you. Now the Auditores. . . ?" She replied, looking around the brothel to see courtesans and men all around, the place smelling distinctly of sleepless nights and roses.

"Who are you looking for in particular?" She quizzed, "Ezio, I assume?" Lucrezia replied, gesturing her hand to the hidden blade on (Y/n)'s wrist. 

"Mario, actually. That was the name in the letter." The blonde woman's face dampened for a moment, her smile fading.

"He was killed in the attack." She replied sadly, "I'm sorry, I didn't realise that you were looking for him or else I would have told you."

"He mentioned some other relatives in the letter: a sister-in-law, niece and nephew. Are they alive?" (Y/n) questioned, biting her inner cheek and starting to pray that she had not come to Rome for a fruitless journey.

"I should hope so." A matured voice spoke up from the staircase. There, stood a woman in her late-middle-ages. Her hair was dark and streaked with grey, crows feet at her dark eyes. Her hair was styled up and she wore the sort of dress that (Y/n) was so accustomed to wearing herself. "What business do you have with my family?" The young woman assumed that this was the in-law.

"It's a bit of a long story. . ." She began, approaching the woman and bowing her head with respect, "I've travelled from the countryside near Forlì. From there, I've been to the city itself, then Firenze, Monteriggioni and now Roma."

"Then your journey has been a long one." She turned around and started walking up the stairs, "Come, rest in the office and tell me your tale." (Y/n) followed behind, hearing the faint sounds of the women working behind heavily closed doors.

The office wasn't too small, with a desk in the light from the back window, a bookshelf and a long screen dividing the room, seeing the posters of a bed behind the screen.

A young-looking woman, but older than (Y/n), was sitting at the desk with a quill in hand, a letter in another. She looked up upon the arrival of the two new women.

"Mother, who is this?" She asked politely, giving (Y/n) a small smile before continuing with her work.

"She says she has business with our family." The older woman replied. So this was the niece, (Y/n) concluded. The in-law gestured for (Y/n) to take a seat before taking one herself.

"I'm going to have to give you a bit of my life’s story for all of this to make sense but I'll try to keep it as short as I can." She began, looking between the two Madames of the brothel. "When I was a young child, my family home was attacked. My mother put me into the maid's arms and told her to run but I saw the attackers kill my parents. My Aunt and Uncle took me in after that and raised me as their own. But, a few days ago, I was walking past the room where my Aunt, Uncle and their guests were and I heard her. . ."

She took in a shaky breath to compose herself, the words wounding her just as deeply as the moment she first heard them, "I heard my Aunt say that she'd had my parents killed. . . And that she thought it was the best thing she had ever done." She could see the shock on the women's faces after saying this. "Since then, I travelled back to my childhood home in Forlì where I found a secret compartment containing this-" she showed her hidden blade and pulled Mario's letter to her parents out of her pocket, placing it on the desk, "-and this. I don't know anyone else who knew my parents except my existing family and Mario. I'm sure you can see why confronting my family was out of the question." Claudia had read the letter by now.

"Your parents were Assassins too?" Claudia spoke up and (Y/n) nodded her head.

"I never even knew until I read this. . ." She bit her cheek to fight the tears that threatened her eyes, "And suddenly I feel like I don't know anything."

"I think it would be best if you speak to my son, Ezio." The in-law spoke up, catching (Y/n)'s teary eyes, "He is acting as the Assassin Brotherhood’s leader at the moment and if he isn't already informed of your parents then one of his contacts will be."

"Thank you. . ." (Y/n) trailed off, looking between the two strangers and realising that she did not know their names still.

"Maria."

"And Claudia - I am sure that you know our surname well." She smiled, giving (Y/n) back the letter from Mario. She could tell that she was sad to let something go that had been written by her passed uncle, "My brother can be a hard man to contact but I have a meeting with him in three days, I can take you with me and you can discuss things with him then."

"Thank you." (Y/n) replied gratefully, "Until then, do you know any places nearby where I could rent a room?"

"You can stay here until then." Maria offered, "We will close off a room for you. There's one downstairs that serves as more of a supply cupboard than a workplace, I'm sure you'd prefer that."

"I'll take whatever you'll give." She replied gratefully and heard her stomach rumble, inwardly cringing and hoping that the other two hadn't heard her. It was now becoming evening and she hadn't eaten since Florence yesterday.

"There is a baker's nearby though." The younger Auditore woman smiled amiably, getting up from her seat, "Come, I'll take you."

⚜⚜⚜

The past three days had been spent at the brothel: spending much time talking to Claudia and understanding her job in the Brotherhood as well as the courtesan teaching her a few Assassin tricks: blending in, pickpocketing (it had felt very dishonest to (Y/n) but the last of her money had been spent on food and she knew that she needed it to get by - she also found that she was also very good at it). She was small and went more unnoticed than others when she bumped into someone and her fingers were quick, nimble from her years of violin-playing.

"We're heading to Isola Tiberina." Claudia had told her that afternoon. Claudia was wearing a fine red and gold dress and (Y/n) decided that she didn't want to feel underdressed compared to her, slipping on the deep blue silk dress that she had kept in her bag, the one not given away to that bastard tailor in Forlì. She kept her hair in the two dutch braids which had now become much more comfortable for her as they were easy to do, held fast and kept her long tresses out of the way.

She followed Claudia through the streets of Rome, keeping close and trying to memorise each detail in order to learn her way around the city by heart. Some streets were narrow and there were staircases that looked like an alley but turned out to be a door, tunnels were scattered around too and there were some small gardens here and there. Eventually, they reached a  river and Claudia led the two of them over a bridge. (Y/n) looked up to a tall building that had a pigeon coop and stood in front of a small square of sorts.

Merchants and craftsmen called out to passers-by and the Auditore woman led (Y/n) down to a doorway, holding it open and motioning for (Y/n) to make her way down the stairs. Upon arriving, she could tell that the place was newly occupied: sparse furniture that looked as though it could fall apart at any moment, lots of repairs that needed to be done in the plaster and cobwebs in the rafters. But she could hear the crackle of a fireplace nearby as well, a sign that they were not too uncomfortable here.

"Claudia." The man gave Claudia a warm hug in greeting while (Y/n) stood by silently, waiting to be introduced. Though, someone else addressed her first.

"Emma?" The man was much older than (Y/n) and dressed mostly in browns and yellows. (Y/n) could feel her breath hitch in her throat. She hadn't heard that name in so long that it both killed her and brought her to life at once. Her mother's name. "No, you're far too young. . ." He glanced down at her wrist to see the dull metal of her hidden blade, "Who are you?" His eyes flickered between hers, brows narrowing. A tension seemed to fall over the room and suddenly everyone was suspicious.

"I'm her and Lorenzo's daughter. I. . ." She found herself stammering. This man had known her mother's face and clearly, (Y/n) had grown into it well. Her Aunt had never mentioned that. "I came here looking for answers." She cast a glance over her shoulder to Claudia, now accompanied by the man who had hugged her in greeting. All of the older people in the room seemed beyond astonished. The man spoke up once more, killing the silence that had now hung over the room for a long time.

"I think we would like some answers now too.” He answered solemnly as whispers broke out among the elders of the group. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean: you're supposed to be dead."

[saladejin]

Admire | 03

Seokjin x Fem!Reader | arranged marriage!au, husband!Seokjin | Strangers to lovers, angst, self discovery, loneliness in luxury, touch starvation (eventual smut), eventual domestic fluff

Summary: You’d never needed anyone else. Growing up alone, living alone, existing alone. It all came naturally and effortlessly, quite like breathing. That was until your somewhat distant parents finally decided it was time to make good on a promise. One they’d made before you were even born.

Warnings: Some very brief mentions of weight in the beginning, some internal angst & realisations 

Word Count: 2.8k 

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      Time passed a little quicker after that, and soon a couple of months had flown by. You and Seokjin had attended so many events and parties that you’d lost count somewhere along the line. You’d had so much practice in convincing people about your relationship that things just started to come naturally after a while.

Things like smiling at one other when speaking to the high-class attendees of the party, and giving each other small kisses on the cheek when leaving for a trip to the restroom or a drink break – even though it was only you giving, him receiving – and getting even better at dancing so that you could have a short debrief whenever you ended up in each-other’s arms on the dance floor.

Seokjin began to notice that after having some practice wearing heels and conversing with his peers, you could prove yourself quite resourceful and quick-witted. Sometimes you managed to divert a conversation or improvise upon an answer that he never could have even imagined. It made you giggle whenever you shocked him into a stupor, because it was easily passable as a love-struck gaze to anyone watching or listening to the conversation.

Tonight was going to be one of the last events for a while. At least you thought. It was someone’s cousin’s birthday? All you knew was that after this, you could take a breather from the rich population of the city, and Seokjin could too. 

“I’m starting to think I should lose weight. I bought this dress recently,” you whined lowly, wondering why you couldn’t zip yourself into the pretty blue gown. A figure soon loomed up behind you and in one swift motion the fabric was brought together tightly.

You met Seokjin’s eyes through the mirror in front of you and exhaled sharply in exasperation, trying to let the sudden fear ebb away into the hazy perfumed air.

“Don’t scare me like that.”

The tall broad-shouldered man left the room without a change in expression, saying in an impassive tone, “You were the one complaining. Women always go on about their weight, but there’s never actually a problem half the time.”

How should I react to that? Is it a compliment… or is he being unfair to women?

You grumbled and shook your head, leaving the bedroom to wait for Seokjin by the door. You’d gotten used to seeing him cleaned up and looking ravishing in a tailored suit, but even so it still gave you chills every time he stood close enough for you to get a good look. You wondered, for the first time, what he thought of you.

“Driver’s here, let’s go.”

~

The night went like most others, but something was different. Compared to the other events where there were mostly older adults and well regarded elders filling the venue, this one was a birthday party celebration for a young cousin, A.K.A a guest list mostly consisting of young adults while still being a formal occasion.

“This is Taehyung, he’s the one having the party,” Seokjin introduced in an almost bored tone, but you were absolutely enraptured by the man in front of you.

“Nice to meet you (Y/n), I’ve heard many good things.” Taehyung smiled, eyeing you up and down before moving on to ask Seokjin some general questions as a catch-up. There was no doubt about it, the man was a treat for the eyes.

No, he was one of the finest specimens you’d ever had the pleasure of looking at.

Your heart kept leaping every time the younger tanned male would gaze in your direction during Seokjin’s update, only being able to fix a smile on your face to try and hide the heat creeping up the skin of your neck and cheeks.

Why are there so many attractive people here?

Your eyes widened when you spotted another handsome man chatting up a group of girls nearby, and then another two were walking together towards the champagne table, acting as if they weren’t snatching the hearts of every young woman in the place.

“May I have a dance with the lady?”

You heard Taehyung’s low raspy voice as he made the request and snapped your gaze to Seokjin to see how he would react. You wanted to dance with the young man, but something about leaving Seokjin’s side felt weird. It’s not like you’d never left him at one of these events before, but tonight you were just brimming with all kinds of depraved tension.

“Sure, I’ll be over with Hoseok and Jimin.” Seokjin nodded, meeting your gaze briefly before turning away. You didn’t know why a small part of you wanted him to refuse the birthday boy’s wish, but you were going to enjoy yourself anyway.

“All good, I’ll take you over to them once we’re done,” Taehyung said to you as you both made your way to the floor. You looked up at him with a smile.

“Have you enjoyed the party so far?”

“Yeah it’s been great.” Taehyung smirked, “Became even livelier when you arrived, milady.”

You couldn’t suppress a gasp of surprise before huffing softly. You reached the floor and the tall man pulled you into his hold effortlessly.

“Your flirting could use some work, it’s a bit outdated. Plus, going for a married woman isn’t something you should practice.” You flashed him your own confident smirk, but he only twirled you around into a sudden dip that had your breath hitching again.

He chuckled, and continued to sweep you off your feet with his skillful dancing. “Come on (Y/n)-ah, it’s all in good fun.”

You already knew you were craving a man’s touch, because you’d been starved of contact for way too long and this dancing was not helping your situation. Taehyung was giving you everything you wanted and more. Letting you fall into him and lose yourself to the music and dance. It was absolutely exhilarating.

“Okay, I think you need to go back to Jinnie.” Taehyung laughed breathlessly as you stumbled off the dancefloor. You couldn’t wipe the grin from your face as you made your way to the food tables, one of Taehyung’s large hands resting on the small of your back and making your insides squirm in delight. At this point you just blamed it on really needing some attention.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if I called him that one day?” You chuckled airily after chowing down on some expensive tasting food to restore your depleted energy. Taehyung stifled his giggle of amusement and put on a serious expression.

“I would condone it, but I’m not sure you’d leave that conversation alive.”

You both let out sniggers as you imagined Seokjin’s deadpan expression, glaring you down before you ultimately met your doom. Though the older male was usually calm and composed when you were alone together, you’d seen him get annoyed or irritated more than a few times around his other more well-known peers.

“Okay I get it, it’s a strictly family or friend nickname. Speaking of, how are you related to him?”

Taehyung finished swallowing his piece of bruschetta and met your eyes calmly. You didn’t know why a sudden sadness had washed over his features, but it was quite jarring to see considering that the man was so bubbly and animated.

“Well I’m his cousin, my mother was known to everyone as Aunty-”

“You guys took an awfully long time getting back,” Seokjin’s voice cut into the sudden tension you’d created for yourselves, and the way you jumped in your skin was utterly embarrassing.

“Hyung you should have seen how much fun she was having! Don’t you dance when you go to parties?” Taehyung cleared his throat and beamed his boxy smile, once again returning to his lively attitude as he poked fun at Seokjin.

You pursed your lips and thought, when we go to dance, it’s to talk, not actually dance.

You exchange a knowing look with Seokjin and scramble around in your brain to try and figure out what to say to the young handsome man before you. How could he possibly know that you weren’t the happily married couple everyone thought you were?

“Yes, we do. Actually, I’m going to take her now.”

You balked as the black-haired man left no room for argument, he gently wrapped his fingers around your wrist and tugged you back towards the dancefloor. You had no choice but to wave a hasty goodbye to a puzzled Taehyung, not feeling the disappointment for long due to the feeling of Seokjin’s warm hand enclosing your wrist.

“This is sudden, is something wrong?” you asked softly, wondering why he appeared so agitated all of a sudden.

“I just needed to take you away from Tae. That conversation wouldn’t have led into anything nice. It’s not a story he should be going around telling people.”

Once again, I need to stop over-promoting myself here. I’m still part of his version of ‘people’, otherwise known as ‘not trusted enough’.

As you made it to the floor, a slow song started playing and there was no need for a proper waltz. You thanked God, because after Taehyung had taken you out you basically had no energy left for proper dancing. Your feet were aching too, and here you thought you’d mastered the art of heels at this stage.

“It’s okay, Seokjin.” You sighed. “If you want to tell me someday then you can, but I won’t pry into it. Just know that I’m here with you as your partner, not just a random girl off the street whose attention is completely paid for all night.”

In other words, I’m not an escort. I’m in this with you, not for you.

Seokjin seemed to be in one of his stunned silences, but when you looked up at him he was simply gazing forwards in some kind of daze. Perhaps he was reliving some old memories? You didn’t know, but you did know how handsome he looked under this lighting. You noticed how you felt at ease in his arms, and how safe and secure this sense of normalcy with him made you feel.

After months of sharing a house and outward appearance with him, things had begun to feel more like home.

When you snapped out of the deep train of thought, you found your arms sliding themselves up and around Seokjin’s broad shoulders, your head leaning into the firm warmth of his chest. Almost as if on instinct, his own hands came up to hold your waist with no sense of the shyness he’d had that first time.

He felt as strong and broad as his shoulders implied.

“What are you doing?” he asked, obviously confused as you just pressed your body closer to him, eyes unfocused as they settled on the sliver of exposed collarbone his shirt had to offer. With his hands keeping you anchored in place against his frame, you felt the most comfortable you ever had throughout the past few months of being together.  

“Well, you’re warm and I’m just craving human touch right now. You can blame Taehyung for this if you need someone to pin it on.”

Did I really just say that? I sound drugged.

“Human touch? Did he do something to you?” He repeated your words, sounding so unbelievably perplexed. You let your body sway with his for the next few moments before pulling away, almost losing your cool and snorting with laughter at how he had just gone with it.

“No, he didn’t do anything. I just wanted to know what it was like…” you tapered off, not knowing how to explain how you felt to this man who had never shown any signs of needing, or even wanting the same thing.

“How often do you have cravings … like that?” Seokjin murmured, still confused but keeping his hands firmly plastered on you so that you wouldn’t move away.

“Seokjin, don’t make it sound like some pregnancy snack. If you don’t let me step aside, I’m probably going to do something I’ll regret. I’m too unfocused right now,” you warned, somehow stopping yourself from laughing because you knew he wouldn’t find the humour in it.

“Okay, but answer the question,” he urged while drawing his hands back sharply, as if he’d touched a burning hot iron.

“All the time, okay? All the damn time.”

You sighed, stepping away from his well-built figure. “Growing up with no one around me meant that the only affection and contact I got was either from the staff at home or people at school. With my friends, I was always the reserved one because I was used to less touch and attention compared to everyone else. It’s just how I’ve grown up.”

You’d gotten progressively shyer the longer you spoke, and you were now rubbing one of your arms with a free hand to try and rid yourself of the humiliation. You’d made yourself so vulnerable to him after so many months of both of you just trying your best to coincide with no extra interactions. It was so strange suddenly opening up, and awkward to think that it was in public while being surrounded by many, many people.

Before the black-haired man could respond, the song changed and the couples around you started dancing a little faster. You quickly left the floor and made your way to the refreshments table for some water. Your mouth had become so dry it could rival a desert.

“Hey, you alright?” a loud but deep voice caressed your ear, accompanied by an arm slinging around your shoulders to massage your exposed skin comfortingly. Taehyung looked into your eyes with concern lacing his features, wondering why you’d become so pale.

“Yeah, I just need a drink.” You laughed, leaning into the tall man’s embrace slightly before detaching yourself from the alluring body heat.

“Okay well let me know-”

“Sorry Tae but I think we’re going to head home early.”

Both you and Taehyung whipped your heads up at the sound of Seokjin’s steady tone. You noticed he looked slightly tired, but it was unusual considering how early into the night it was. His beautiful eyes found yours and you almost felt your legs give way at the slight apologetic hint swimming in their captivating depths.

He’s taking you home because he feels bad after what you said, (Y/n).

He never cared before about problems as trivial as this, so why was he suddenly concerned for you? Why was he caring? After all this time, why was he still making your heart beat so erratically?

Yes, you respected him and yes, you wanted him to acknowledge you and have a similar sense of mutuality between you; that was how you built most of your relationships, but this was way too different to be cut from the same cloth. You craved this man in so many ways because you just valued him so fucking much, it hurt sometimes. You cared about him much more than he seemed to care about you, and you’d accepted that very early into the game.

So why was it hurting?

“Okay, yeah I’m feeling a bit beat.” You sighed, downing your cup of water before smiling weakly at Taehyung. The younger man seemed absolutely stunned at your abrupt change of attitude, but you’d already made your way to Seokjin’s side before he could really say much else.

Both of them had just seen you go through a million emotions at once, and it looked like you hadn’t been as skilled at hiding them this time around.

“See you Taehyung, it was really nice to meet you. Hopefully we’ll meet again at the next one.”

You waved, waiting for him to bid his own farewell before turning away. You didn’t want to show him the pained expression making its way onto your face.

Seokjin led the way to the car, as his longer legs meant he could walk that much faster. Usually you’d stop to watch him as he talked to the driver or packed a bag of gifts into the trunk of the car, but you couldn’t bear it for once. you just slipped into your usual seat and waited for your husband to get into his, slowly but surely.

Once he was seated, the car began to move. You and Jin gazed at one another in silence before you finally cracked and caved into the weariness clinging to your bones. You’d been torturing yourself emotionally for too long tonight.

“I’m sorry for what happened. I’ll get over this problem by tomorrow and things will be normal.”

Seokjin’s brows furrowed and he looked like he was going to say something to argue against your words, but then his plump lips pursed, and he heaved a heavy sigh.

“Whatever you say, (Y/n).”

Then he looked away, and you could tell he was thinking hard.

          Copyright © 2020 by salade. All rights reserved.

[argumentl]

The Freedom of Expression Ep 24 - The more its restored, the less like the original it becomes.

K: This is Dir en grey's Kaoru, starting this episode of The Freedom of Expression. Joe san, Tasai san, welcome....*points to Joe with his bare leg showing*..Errr, are you hot?

J: No, I mean, its hot isn't it?

K: Yeh, it is.

J: How do you feel about Summer? Im really bad with Summer!

K: Well, I don't like the heat, but I don't really go outside all that much.

J: Really? By the way, what are your favourite seasons, Kaoru?

K: Autumn and Spring.

J: Well, yeh right? Which do you hate the most? Winter or Summer?

K: Im really sensitive to hot and cold.

J: Oh really?!

K: But, hmm, which one? Maybe Summer is better.

J: Summer is better? Ehh? But in the winter you can always put on extra clothes if you are cold..but in Summer...we have our limits, right?  Summer is...

K: Can't you just put the aircon on?

J: I do...but..

K: If you go outside, right?

J: Outside is also hot, and if you leave the aircon on constantly inside, you'll catch a cold. Its hard, I really don't like summer at all!

T: Haha

J: You're also limited in what you can eat, right? You have no appetite, you get bored of eating soumen noodles every day.

K: Yeh, that does get boring.

J: In winter you can have big hot pots, and all sorts!

K: I eat hot pots in the summer too.

J: Really?!

T: Ehh?

J: Incredible! Ah, but on the other hand, yes, that kinda works.

T: Wouldn't you feel cooler? After eating it?

K: I feel hot.

J: You feel hot? haha.

K: Hahaha

J: Its is hot!

K: I get really hot! Haha

T: Do you eat it with the aircon blasting?

K: Well, even with the aircon blasting, I still sweat a lot.

J: Its hot, right? But doing that feels good? Conversely?

K: What have you been eating?

J: Salad, basically.

K: Did you say you were on a diet?

J: Yeh, my belly is getting round.

K: Weren't you going to the gym?

J: I am going to the gym!

K: Haha.

J: I started with squats, and when I lifted up, it was so hard*1.

K: Hahaha

J: My muscles hurt a lot today. I can't walk up the stairs.

T: Hahaha

K: At 50, you're like...

J: Getting my teeth out...

K: Getting your teeth out..

T: Doing squats...

J: Yeh, well im divorced, and im aiming to remarry, so this is my last spurt. If I havn't reached my goal by age 55...

K: You've entered a plan to reform yourself?

J: Yes, I have.

T: Joe, you're young!

J: If I havn't managed it by 55, I'll give up...*gestures to camera* So, please,  everyone.

K: Why are you smiling?

T: Hahaha

J: I've kinda been wanting to do that.

K: Hahaha

J: Lets cut that bit.

K: No, we'll show it

J: Hahaha

K: We won't cut it, haha. Ok, Joe san. Today's news please.

J: Yes, this is today's news. We talked about this news a little bit once on the radio show, didn't we?

K: Yeh, we did.

J: Right? Well this is news about how "The more it was restored, the less like the original it became". So in Spain, its been disovered that  an amatuer tried to re-touch a famous work of art, and failed twice. The altered work is a oil painting copy of the 17th century piece by the Spanish Baroque artist Bartolomé Esteban Murillo. The title of the work is, 'The Immaculate Conception of Los Venerables'. The owner of this piece, an art collecter based in Valencia, who paid 1200 euros for it, had requested an employee of a furniture repair company to clean the painting. But during the cleaning, the Virgin Mary's face changed. After not one, but two restoration attempts, the painting was completely ruined, and the owner was apparently very angry. So, if you search for it, you will be able to find the images online. We can't show you them here due to the issue of image rights (*On screen text: Search for Spain painting restoration*). But...yehh..

T: Its incredible, isn't it?

J: This is shocking!

K: They weren't looking at how the picture is supposed to be, were they?

T: *Looking at his paper* Is the top picture the first restoration attempt?

K: Yeh, the one on the left is the original state, and on the right is the first restoration.

J: The top right, yeh.

*Lots of giggling*

J: This has zero sense of Maria! It looks like some vandalism.

K: Its looks like those pictures they stick up outside the police box *2

J: This first attempt is bad enough...

K: Its terrible, really bad!

J: But it generally still fits with the original Maria's line of gaze, right?

K: Yeh, but like, you can see the whites of her eyes. The top half is totally black.

J: If this is restoration work, it means they took money for it?

T: ??? *3

J: Really!

K: How did they actually do it though? Normally you have to use a matching colour to the original, and just do it like this, right?*imitates dabbing paint finely*

J: I think so.

K: But it seems like this person has just gone like "Gahhh' *imitates waving a paintbrush around roughly*

J: They re-painted it, right?

K: They are just slapping paint on, you can't see much detail.

J: Re-writing it! Its terrible!

K: They were somehow trying to remember what it used to look like.

J: At least they could have taken a photo..

K: Without that, this third try is never gonna work.

J: Everyone, please search for these images online. The third image is shocking!

T: The second pic is still looking upwards and kinda has a bit of the orininal feel to it, but the third pic is just staring straight forward!

K: Its the same person who did them both, right?

Kami: Um..I just..

J: Ah, Kami is here.

Kami: Um, I had a look at it, but where did her clothes go?

J: Huh? (*looks at paper*) Ohh, her clothes?

Kami: Yeh.

J: In the original, the area from Maria's chest and up is visible, but by the third picture, the clothes cover up to her head. This is awful!

T: Its scary, isn't it?

J: This is...well, where is the real problem? Even this kind of person has the authority to do restorations, even people at this level.

K: I dont know if they had the authority, they were just asked.

Kami: Yeh, the owner asked a furniture business to do it.

J: Yeh, someone from the furniture business came to restore it.

Kami: If you ask a furniture store to do it, this kind of result can't be helped.

K: For sure. ????*4

Kami: Maria got really ugly.

T: Ahh, I see! Originally, they were supposed to be just cleaning it right? Like, removing the dust.

J: Yeh, that might have been it. Like the painting was deteriorating, and in order to stop it getting worse, or something like that. They must have thought it was ok to go ahead and re-paint it.

K: The person who did it was quite eldery weren't they?

J: Ahh, I see.

T: This is crazy

J: But after seeing their first try, they should have given up trying to fix it for a second time. Somehow, that would've been better.

K: The owner shouldn't ask the same person to fix it, right?

J: Right!

K: But, well, it won't go back to its original state will it?

J: No, it won't.

K: Even if a new person could get to back to this (*points at the first restoration attempt*)

J: ??? Its like hell if you keep going, and hell if you stop. In the end, its like ??? *5, it would be no good...Well, its an impressive thing.

K: Yeh, but imagine if you wanted to keep viewing the painting, as for the first restoration,   if you look at it from far away, it kiiinda still resembles the original a bit. But the second one is no good at all.

J: Yeh, its no good. In the first one you can kinda still see that they were trying to paint the virgin mary, but in the second restoration, it looks like an old woman..not even a proper portrait.

T: Her nose is well defined though, haha.

J: Well, yeh...Isn't the Virgin Mary a friend of Kami's?

Kami: Well, the one in the original is my friend. The third one is totally different.

J: Its no good?

K: That kind of old woman, really.

J: Do you consider this to be a profanity? Is this ok?

Kami: Well, its ok, isn't it?

J: Hahaha.

Kami: That kind of thing.

J: Ah, its ok.

Kami: The original is really well painted isn't it?

T: Mm, yeh.

Kami: Yeh, I think its a really good picture.

K: Its a copy though right? There is someone who painted this as a copy?

T: Yeh, there is a proper original.

K: It would be pretty expensive to hire that person to fix it, right?

J: I think they were trying to save money. 140000yen was too much for them. I wonder how much it usually costs to have a painting decently restored? How much did they save?

K: It probably takes quite a long time to do.

T: I think it takes a really long time.

J: Yeah. Well, when they saw how it ended up, it says the owner was angry, well, yeh, he would be angry wouldn't he?

K: Yeh, he would. Cause its his precious painting that he just wanted cleaning.

J: Yes, thats it.

K: I can only laugh at this, haha. Its a total disaster, really.

T: It really is.

J: Well, the lesson to learn from this is that a ricecake maker makes ricecakes. If you want anything repairing properly, hire a professional..otherwise this type of thing will happen.

T: Thats it.

J: Don't be stingy!

T: Its problematic if they pretend to be a pro, then take your money. But in this case they were just a furniture store.

J: Asking a furniture store to do it was the mistake. Why did they ask a furniture store?

T: But they still said, 'Yes, we can do it', right?

J: Hmm, yeah.

K: They had the look of someone who could do it. The owner was fooled.

J: Its like 'The Guild', they may have had the look of a craftsperson. You have to be careful with appearance too.

K: Well, I think we'll finish here. Please subscribe. Thank you very much.

J: Go Hanshin Tigers!

*1, 2 Couldn't make out the last words, but i think its something like this.

*3, 4, 5 Couldn't make out.

[alternativewinxcontinuity]

April has begun, a new month, a new start.

To celebrate the First of April, I've decided to embark on a new project. Some might say it's a little Foolish when I have so much else to do, but it must be done:

Fate: the Re-Winxed Saga!

We'll be starting off with a fixing of the reason Bloom ran away from home. I don't know about anyone else, but I always found it jarring how Bloom essentially had two sets of parents played by the same actors.

One pair were abusive a$$hats, on of whom thought their daughter was a freak, the other was basically a doormat with no opinions of their own, meanwhile the other couple were loving and “always knew she was meant for bigger things”.

So I've changed the reason behind Bloom's house burned down, and restored her artistic talents to her. There's nothing wrong with liking repairing old lamps, but we saw it once to point out how much of a “weirdo” she was, and then it was gone.

I've also added in a bit to explain how Farah found her, while maintaining Stella's OG presence in the scene.

I know there's a prequel book out (soon?) now that's supposed to fill in that blank, but I've just gone ahead with it.

Warnings for minor implications of sexual assault that never actually happened.

Here we go:

Fire\Starter

Bloom's sleep was fitful. 

She felt hot in her dreams, flushed with embarrassment and rage as Mitzy's obnoxious laugh played on infinite repeat. The condemning looks from her peers, from strangers on the street, plagued her like a thousand daggers.

In the waking world Bloom's body kicked back her sheets and writhed like she was fighting off an attacker.

In her dreams Bloom saw the sweetly deceitful face of Mitzy's cousin.

Bloom was an artist, she'd been drawing since she'd been young. Her art had won some competitions, small and local, but so important to her.

Important enough that her parents had bought her a graphics tablet for her birthday when all the other kids her age were getting bikes. It was the most expensive gift they'd ever gotten her.

She'd used it frequently, making digital art now alongside the more traditional paintings and sketches. She'd gotten good enough to be asked and paid for commissions.

And that's how Mitzy had managed to sneak her cousin in, to set a trap.

Moira had commissioned Bloom to make a 'tasteful nude' in 'that old European style, you know the one?' and Bloom hadn't thought anything of it. She'd let Moira into her home, into the converted solar-turned-art studio she'd been using for almost a full year now and...

Bloom had spent every day since cursing herself for not noticing the similarities. Moira and Mitzy looked so alike when you saw them together, Bloom didn't know how she'd missed it.

Maybe it was because Moira had smiled kindly, hidden her smirk and contempt better than Mitzy ever had.

Bloom had only touched Moira once, a gentle arm on the elbow to steady her while Moira was in her under garments, but the way she'd spun that into lies of assault...

Bloom could see it perfectly in her head, Moira laying casually on the couch of Bloom's studio, skin mostly bare and a sweet smile on her face.

In her dreams it warped into a smirk, lips cracking apart until Mitzy's laugh rolled out of the gaping maw. In her dreams, Bloom set Moira on fire.

Her rage, pure and true becomes an unstoppable flame, so hot it melts the walls, melts her tormentors skin. In the dream Bloom screams her rage and the world is consumed and-

-Bloom wakes, choking. She rolls to the side and tumbles from the sweat soaked mattress to the warm wooden floors of her room. Her gasping breaths drag the scent of smoke and paint into her lungs, but she ignores the remnants of her dream and tries to calm herself.

The scent doesn't fade.

It gets stronger.

Somewhere below her on the ground floor, glasses shatter and Bloom hears a familiar whoof. She'd heard it in her father’s educational videos on fire.

Her studio is on fire.

Her house is on fire!

“MUM! DAD!” Bloom screams as loud as she can, trying to remember what she's supposed to do. She tears her pillow case off her pillow, scrambles to put her laptop, graphics tablets and her three recharge cords into it before pulling her sheet free and wrapping it around herself.

She grabs her phone on the way out.

“MUM! DAD!”

Bloom makes her way to their room down the hall, the smoke in the air thickening.

“FIRE!!”

Her parents meet her at the door, their own sheet wrapped around them both to help filter the smoke, they have a few things as well.

Together they crouch down low and make their way down stairs, Bloom's father, Mike, already on his cell phone calling for the Fire Brigade.

They're almost free and clear when her mother, Vanessa, tries to head for the family office.

Bloom calls “mum, no!” at the same time her dad says “'Nessa stop!”  

But Vanessa darts away, just past the office door to grab a single box and out again, away from the spread of the fire.

Bloom feels a flicker of relief for half a second before something in the house explodes, letting out a torrent of flame in her mother's direction.

Bloom screams and flings out her hand as if she could do anything to stop what's about to happen.

For a heartbeat Bloom feels something well up inside her, something dark and powerful, and the wave of fire splits around her mother.

The trio stand, stunned, until Mike comes to his senses, “'Nessa, move!”

And they bolt to the door together, out onto the small lawn in time to see the lights of the fire trucks round the corner.  

-

In the days to come, they will recover the items which remain, few as they are. Bloom's childhood book of fairy stories was somehow untouched by the flames.

Mitzy will spread a new rumour about Bloom as part of her campaign to ruin Bloom's life, saying Bloom started the fire.

The investigation will rule it an accident, suspected faulty wiring in the art studio.

But Bloom knows, with an awful certainty: Mitzy was right for once, Bloom had started the fire somehow. She knows her parents suspect it too, but they won't say anything, not even about how Bloom had made the wave of fire part.

There's an elephant in the room now, it hovers awkwardly about their family, makes every conversation feel like trying to walk through broken glass in the dark without stepping on any.

Bloom tries not to go to sleep. She only makes it a few days before she finds herself constantly drifting off. Her parents watch her with fear, telling her to sleep.

But she can't, don't they understand that? What if she starts another fire?

She leaves their motel room, takes her phone and uses some of the money she earned from her art to by a sleeping bag and some snacks. Searches the internet for a place to stay with no people and as little flammable material as possible.

She finds an old warehouse that will do the trick. She buys a small fire extinguisher on her way there.

-

Her phone tells her she's slept for two days when she wakes up with a horrific dehydration headache.

She feels a little better for the sleep, she hasn't burned down the world while unconscious. There's a public showering area in a pool several blocks away, she manages to sneak in and get clean.

Begins to feel almost human again.

-

Bloom falls into a routine, sleeping in the warehouse, showering in the public washrooms, reading everything she can find on what the internet calls 'pyrokinesis'. The scientific side, or the fringe-science side of things feels wrong somehow.

She can't explain it, but something in her knows that's not the path she's looking for.

She tries folklore and myths instead. Feels pulled towards the stories of fae and dragons.

There's an abandoned quarry not far from town, and Bloom manages to make her way there with some candles, matches and her thankfully unused fire extinguisher.

She can't conjure fire, can't put it out, can't even provoke it. She's missing something, she knows, she can feel it.

Bloom comes across some 'majick' on one of the websites she finds looking for answers. A way to call a fae and force them to answer any questions you have. Bloom scoffs but takes a screenshot before backing out to another page.

Several days later she makes the mistake of looking at social media.

She's officially a runaway at this point, and Mitzy has used her absence to establish Bloom's guilt.

“Bloom burned her house down to fake her death to avoid facing charges of assault,” is the going theory.

It makes Bloom mad enough to set her sleeping bag on fire.

The following morning she buys a new one, and some things from the list of 'spell' ingredients. She's making no progress on her own, she's desperate.

Bloom returns to the quarry, she doesn't want the smell of incense in the warehouse, just in case. She fills a small bowl with water and a piece of quartz, waits for the moon to rise over head and does her best to match the google-translate’s reading of the 'some magical European language' the spell requires.

For a moment she sits, feeling like a fool, her eyes closed. Then she feels like she's falling.

Or flying?

There's a wind but it's intangible, a forest but it's colours are vibrant in a way Bloom's never seen, like they're leaking energy.

And then there's a tug, like someone has pulled her up short, and a woman with soft, pale brown hair and kind but curious eyes.

The woman opens her mouth but Bloom jerks back in shock, and startles so hard her leg flies out to knock over the bowl, spilling the water everywhere.

Bloom stays there for several long minutes, panting like she'd run a marathon, but then a real wind blows and her damp jeans go cold against her skin. She packs everything up and runs back to the almost safety of her warehouse.

-

Bloom is awoken by the sound of the warehouse door opening and closing. She's confused for a moment before the sound of two sets of footsteps has her scrambling upright, and out of her sleeping bag.

It's the woman from Bloom's... spell? Vision?

She smiles at Bloom, and Bloom feels herself relax.

“Hello, I'm Farah Dowling,” she gestures to herself. Behind Farah, a young woman, blonde and roughly to same age and nervousness level as Bloom, clears her throat slightly, so Farah Dowling adds: “And this is Stella,” Stella waves, “we're here to help you, if you'll let us?”

Bloom knows better than to trust strangers, but this woman had been in her vision.

“You can help me?” Bloom asks, her voice sounding far smaller and unused than she was expecting.

“I'd certainly like to try,” Farah says kindly, her hand reaching out to Bloom, letting Bloom make the choice.

Bloom gathers her things and takes Farah Dowling's hand, Farah squeezes it gently, it's comforting. Bloom sobs as she realises this is the first real human contact she's had in... weeks now.

“Come on,” Farah and Stella return to the warehouse door, “Stella, if you could?”

“Yes Miss Dowling,” Stella gives Bloom a quick eyebrow wiggle, like she's about to show off, and places her hand on the door.

'She has nice hands,' Bloom thinks distantly as the large sunburst ring on Stella's finger glows golden, the light spreading out to coat the door and it's frame.

When Stella opens it, the door no longer leads outside the warehouse, but out into a verdant forest. Bloom can smell the leaf litter, there's the smell of moisture, like there's rain about to fall.

Stella steps through into the forest, holding the door open for Farah and Bloom to follow.

“Welcome to Avalon,” Stella says as she sweeps out an arm to indicate the trees around her, “home of Alfea school for Heroics and Fairies.”

“Fairies?” Bloom can feel herself smiling, excitement building. Her parents had always affectionately despaired at her life long obsession with the mythological creatures.

...her parents...

Bloom wavered.

“Can, can I just have a moment to text my parents?” Bloom looks between the two... women? Fairies? She's afraid that any second this will turn out to be a dream, or worse, real and she'll somehow throw away her chance.

“Of course,” Farah says, her voice full of understanding, “take all the time you need.”

“As long as you only need ten minutes,” Stella cuts in, “because that's how much longer I can hold this doorway open.”

Farah gives Stella a fond but exasperated look.

Bloom shakes her head, “I only need two minutes, tops.” She pulls out her phone, spends thirty seconds undoing the call blocker and sends her text before reinstalling the blocker, too scared to hear her parents reply.

What if it was “stay gone”?

“I'm ready,” Bloom says, and Farah ushers her through into Avalon.

-

[I'm OK. Sorting some things out. I Love You Both.]

Mike and Vanessa almost collapse in relief, their baby girl is alright. They tell the police to stop actively looking for Bloom, but to keep an eye out, and to tell her they miss her if she's seen.

The pray she'll come home on her own.

[vampiregirl1797]

Vampire in the Modern World

BBC Dracula x Female Reader

 Gif Not Mine.

 For My Masterlist Click Here.

 Working at the Jonathan Harker foundation isn’t the career you’d envisioned yourself having as a child. I’d first been enrolled in the programme during my third year of studying biochemistry at Oxford University. The life of a student was stressful by way of work and lack of funds, and so Dr. Van Helsing suggested the blood donation procedure to me. I mean, at first it was a dream come true—come in once a week, donate a pint of blood, earn a thousand pounds a month. At the beginning, I hadn’t been fully informed as to what exactly the blood was being used for, and with Dr Helsing recommending the programme to me, and me finally being able to afford to live modestly in London, I hadn’t thought to question it.

 However, when I left University and was offered a better-paid position (three times my original wage packet) for a few more hours of work a week, I was told the full extent of what the Jonathan Harker foundation actually represented. It was dedicated to the analysis and evaluation of vampires, something that I had believed to be mythical until that point. That meant their behaviours, reactions to blood, and even the extent of their self-control was studied meticulously. Now, my position wouldn’t involve studying. I, along with a handful of other people, were all being assigned to a particular vampire. This was all decided on our blood types, lifestyles and our personalities.

We were expected to donate a pint of blood a day—due to the high amounts we’d have to take red blood cell renewals that the lab had created specifically for this purpose. As well as this, we’d be spending a minimum of an hour with the vampire we were assigned to, which would be recorded for the scientists observing the interaction to evaluate. It had taken about four weeks to get to this point, which was the point of being assigned to our own vampire. First, we had one last presentation involving the dangers we would be facing, along with the discovery the foundation had recently made. Which was how I found myself sitting in a dimly lit lecture hall, with Professor Bloxham stood at the front and waiting to start the presentation.

 I sighed softly and glanced around me, not paying too much attention to the several other people in the room. It wasn’t uncommon for us not to chat amongst one another—we knew the dangers of the job and so getting attached wasn’t a smart move. Some may have considered that to be heartless, I viewed it as a necessary precaution, and evidently so did everyone else as they followed the same behaviour. This was something we did to earn a living, and so our lives started outside of these walls, the people whom we became within them was a far cry from the person our loved ones knew.

 My eyes flickered back to Professor Bloxham as she started to speak, most of it details I’d already heard before, at least until she got to the part of the Demeter. It had been known as the ship Count Dracula had boarded over 100 years ago in order to gain passage to England. However, the passengers had discovered what he was with the help of Agatha Van Helsing who Dracula had bought to snack on during the journey. It was rumoured by the few passengers that escaped that the ship was blown up by the Captain and Van Helsing herself in order to prevent the curse of vampirism from reaching English soil. But apparently, it had been discovered very recently.

 I felt myself lean forward in my seat as the projector presented the scuba diver footage of the Demeter at the bottom of the sea. It looked so old, and yet quite untouched. The golden writing carved into the side of the mahogany wood seemed to glitter on the screen.

 ‘So this is the main part of the ship. Basically undisturbed for a hundred years.’ She said, looking around and smiling slightly at what was probably several expressions of wonder, ‘the original teams were looking in the wrong place, no one realised quite how close Count Dracula’s ship got to the British mainland.’ She glanced behind her as she continued, ‘we searched the wreck for three days, but what we were looking for was approximately two hundred yards south of there.’

 I felt my heart beat faster in my chest at the sight of a coffin shaped wooden box appearing on the screen. It was as if my body knew what it was, but my mind was refusing to accept the logical direction that Professor Bloxham’s findings were almost certainly heading in.

 ‘Now, a box this old, you’d expect at least a few barnacles.’ We could all clearly see there were no such things, in fact the box looked untouched, ‘but look at it. Untouched by any living thing.’

 I held my breath as I watched hands pry the box open, revealing what appeared to be a perfectly preserved Count Dracula. He almost looked like he was leisurely floating at the bottom of the sea, rather than being essentially impeccably well maintained in death. His eyes were even open, which seemed to highlight the relaxed expression on his face.

 ‘As you can see, even after 123 years, the body was perfectly preserved.’ Someone’s hands inspected Dracula’s face, lifting his lip to reveal his pearl white teeth that even a fool could identify as weapons. I felt a shiver slither down my spine and goose bumps rise on my arms.

 Professor Bloxham turned to face us, her brow quirked, ‘or so we thought.’

 I frowned in confusion until I saw the person’s fingers move into Count Dracula’s mouth, before I could wonder if the worst would happen, crimson coloured the screen as the vampire bit down on the diver’s fingers, evidentially taking in some of their blood. The whole class reacted together as we watched the diver struggle to retrieve their fingers from his mouth, some releasing startled gasps, others groaning in discomfort, however I was too shocked to move. If he hadn’t been dead before, that meant he’d been comatose, but what did it mean now that he was fed? My eyes fell to the Professor as she explained, the dread in my gut growing with each word.

 ‘The body was not preserved. Dracula, was in fact alive. Though dormant.’ She sighed, shifting on her feet and leaning to rest on the desk behind her, ‘apparently in some kind of restorative coma, in which he would have remained, if I hadn’t been stupid enough to feed him. So in case you’re wondering, yeah, vampire’s bite.’ She held up her bandaged hand, identifying herself as the diver who had been masticated.

 She lowered her arm and looked around each and every one of us as her voice took on a grave tone, ‘you need to know what you’re signing up for. We will keep you safe, but this isn’t just about giving blood, it’s not just another student drug trial. There is a reason it is better paid. You will all have controlled exposure to a vampire. Are we clear?’

 She let that sink in for a moment, and I felt the fear and severity of the situation churn in my gut. What if I ended up dead? Mauled by a vampire who saw me as nothing other than his or her next meal provided in order to satiate their hunger? I took a deep breath and reminded myself that there were precautions in place in order to protect me should it be necessary.

 ‘Obviously, at this point, having triggered his revification, we opted for tactical retreat.’ Professor Bloxham’s voice broke me out of my self-reassurance, ‘we resealed the box so nothing could interfere with the process, and we monitored from the shore. It took Dracula another ten hours to fully revive. And of course, we were waiting for him on the beach.’

 Her inability to maintain eye contact at the end of her presentation made me wonder if that was all of the information, but I wasn’t able to dwell for too long as the projector switched off and the lights turned on. I found myself blinking in discomfort at the sudden brightness as my eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness.

 ‘Now, before yesterday all of you were assigned to a specific vampire.’ She revealed, and I found myself frowning when her eyes seemed to settle on me for a second longer than everyone else.

 ‘However, due to our capture of Dracula yesterday evening we had to re-evaluate our submissions due to his known and very specific dietary requirements. Of course, you will all be informed of your assignment shortly, but I’d like you to be pre-warned that one of you,’ she took a breath, seeming to steel herself for what she was about to say, ‘will be assigned to Count Dracula.’

 I felt my heart drop into my stomach. Count Dracula was one of the most famous vampires for a reason. He took time to decide upon whom he would like to feed from, and when he reached his verdict he relished in the feed, often taking his time as he gorged on his victim’s blood. He was known to have no self-control when it came to feeding, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the person he was assigned to didn’t last a week. I took another deep breath—what were the chances that it would be me, right? I mean he had “specific” dietary requirements and I was positive that I was nothing special when it came to blood flavour. I felt the knot of dread in my stomach relax as I leaned back in my chair, relaxing at the realisation—I was nothing special, of that I was positive, and I would most certainly not live up to Count Dracula’s exclusive blood cravings.

 ‘Y/L/N?’ I looked up to see one of the scientists calling my name from the door at the back of the room. I stood up, surprised to see I was the last one to be called—I must have been freaking out so much that I had tuned out my surroundings.

 I bit my lip as I followed the Dr who had come to fetch me, when I asked her where I was going she informed me she was taking me to my assigned vampire. I just about had a heart attack. Before I could question it, she explained that Dr Helsing had specifically asked for me to be bought directly to her, so that she could introduce me to whomever I was assigned to. I should have paid more attention to the several winding corridors I was led down, but I was too lost in my thoughts and in trying to control my heartbeat that was rising in panic.

 ‘Ah, Y/N.’ Dr Helsing’s soft voice garnered my attention and I looked up from the floor to see her waiting for me beside a metallic door, ‘thank you for coming so quickly. We wish to make the introduction now while the sun is still up, as we can use that for our main point of defence.’

 I nodded before I asked, ‘who am I assigned to?’ I wished my voice had sounded stronger than it did, but that was the least of my worries.

 Dr Helsing smiled tightly, ‘Count Dracula.’ She was blunt, and I appreciated that because I don’t think my heart could have taken any fumbling.

 The Dr that had led me there scurried away, and so I had no choice but to follow the leader of the foundation through the metallic door.

 ‘Why me? I thought he had specific requirements? I am positively certain there is nothing special or even flavoursome about my blood.’ I crossed my arms over my chest defensively, so concentrated on talking to the Dr, that I hadn’t taken notice of the giant triangular glass prison cell in the centre of the room.

 ‘You are correct, his requirements are specific and looking back on his past victims,’ she paused, taking a key and turning it into the wall beside the door, ‘well at least those that we know of, you carry the same characteristics as well as a few new ones of your own. We believe you will be a suitable donor. If not, you will be re-assigned.’

 I sighed, moving my neck around in a circular motion as I tried to loosen up the muscles—they always got tight when I was stressed. My eyes followed Dr Helsing as she walked over to a table that rested along the back wall, I found myself watching what she was collecting with expressed interest. I swallowed when I realised she was gathering the necessary instruments for drawing blood. Noticing my nerves, she began to speak.

 ‘I have already taken a blood sample from Count Dracula, now I will take a pint of your blood inside his chamber.’ She lifted a metal tray, satisfied she had all she needed, ‘we will remain in the sunlight to stop his attack should he be unable to control himself in the presence of your blood. You will remain with him as he drinks and another sample will be collected after he has feasted.’

 ‘Wonderful.’ I mumbled, pulling the sleeves of the pale blue jumper I was wearing over my hands.

 ‘Well, well, I can’t say I’ve ever had a meal sound so disgruntled at the prospect of my company.’ His voice washed over me like a soothing balm, my body seeming to involuntarily relax for a moment, until my head caught up with my heart and I realised what he’d just said.

 My eyes met his for the first time and my heart skipped a beat at the charm, mirth and hunger that lingered behind his irises. My cheeks flushed, and my gaze fell to his mouth, which in that moment was smirking at my reaction of him, but I found myself briefly enamoured with the plumpness of his lips before I forced my gaze to move on. He was at least six feet tall, his dark hair and eyes adding to the tall, dark and handsome cliché. I bit my lip, the thought of him being attractive under different circumstances crossing my mind, but I reminded myself what was happening here: I was his meal and his company for the next hour. If I wanted to stay longer, I could, but honestly I didn’t see that happening.

 ‘It’s not your company that is the problem, Count Dracula, rather your lack of control when in the presence of freshly spilled blood.’ I murmured, once I was satisfied that I’d taken his appearance in completely. My voice was calm, and surprisingly firm.

 He blinked, seemingly also surprised by my comeback, though before he could respond Dr Helsing opened the door to his cell and led me inside. We were both careful to remain standing in the rectangle of sunlight while he slinked in the corners. I drew up my sleeve and felt myself shiver as the cool cotton swab was swiped over my skin, the needle quickly following suit. My eyes fell shut as I tried to transport myself somewhere else, preferably somewhere where I wasn’t being stabbed with a needle in front of a bloodthirsty vampire. Unfortunately, the animalistic growls coming from Count Dracula rendered my attempts futile. My eyes fluttered over to him to see his irises were now a crimson red that seemed to glow from his place in the shadows, along with his teeth that appeared to have sharpened as his hunger grew.

 ‘How long since he’s been fed?’ I wondered aloud.

 ‘Aside from the small deposit he had from Professor Bloxham that awoke him, he has had nothing for one hundred and twenty three years.’ Dr Helsing answered, not looking away from the blood bag that was slowly filling up.

My eyes moved back over to the Count, a pang of sympathy shooting through me—he must have been starving, perhaps even malnourished. Did vampires even get malnourished? His eyes fell on mine, I was surprised as his ability to look away from his food source when he was so hungry, and I felt my heart skip a beat when I realised his eyes had melted back to their usual chocolate brown.

 I startled when I felt Dr Helsing swab my skin again. I placed my hand over the cotton, holding it in place while the bleeding subsided.

 ‘That’s all you will be donating today.’ She assured me, placing the used utensils in a biohazard bag and handing me my donation. I took it in my free hand, somehow grossed out by how warm it felt.

 ‘I’ll have some food sent in for you, along with the pills you’ll need to take to boost your red blood cell growth.’ She offered me a tight smile that I assumed was supposed to be comforting, and left shutting the glass door behind her, followed by the metallic one that made a much louder thud.

 ‘I don’t know how long you’re planning to stare after the esteemed doctor, but is there any way you could hand me my breakfast?’ My heart rate picked up at the sound of his voice, ‘I’m famished.’

 I took a breath and removed the cotton swab from my arm, when I’d deduced that the bleeding had stopped, I slipped the material into my pocket and slid my jumper sleeve back down my arm.

 ‘How do you want me to give it to you?’ I asked, not particularly wanting to move from the rectangle of sunlight I was stood in.

 ‘Well, I’d appreciate if you handed it to me, that would be the polite thing to do.’ He said, mirth colouring his tone.

 I took a breath; trying to find the courage to take a mere two steps forward to join him in the shadows. It would only have to be for a brief moment after all, and vampire or not, he deserved to have his meal handed to him. My eyes met his again, and I was surprised to see that his eyes had softened, almost as if he were sympathetic to my plight. A surge of courage seemed to ripple through me, and I found myself speaking before my mind could catch up with my impulsiveness.

 ‘Close the ceiling.’ My voice wasn’t loud but it rang with a formality that echoed through the glass pane that built his cell. The man who was standing outside with his gun followed my instruction a lot easier than I thought he would, and before I knew it my heart was racing as the sunlight withdrew from the room, shrouding us both in the artificial lights in the room.

 I stepped forward and placed the blood bag on the table, sliding it over to the other side where he was standing. He observed me for a moment, seemingly impressed by my courage and if I wasn’t mistaken his eyes glittered with interest. I took the seat opposite his, curling my knees up to my chest in an attempt to suppress my shiver. My head rested on my knees as I observed him, my eyebrow cocking in silent question: was he going to stare all day, or was he going to eat the meal he was probably dying for? I got my answer a second later when he moved at an inhuman pace and snatched the blood bag from the table. The Count took his seat across from me and to my surprise, began sipping on the blood. Quite impressive restraint for someone who hadn’t eaten in over a century, but I figured it would be smart not to question it.

 ‘Hmm.’ He moaned, the sound affecting me more than I cared to admit. Not a drop fell from his mouth as he drank, leisurely savouring every drop. His noises of pleasure continued and I found myself stupefied and aghast by the spark of arousal that seemed to shoot through my body every time the different noises fell from his mouth.

 ‘Y/N,’ he murmured, his voice wrapping around my name like velvet, ‘British born, dead parents and hmmm… a virgin.’

 My cheeks coloured in embarrassment—I hadn’t been made aware of the information he’s be able to gather from a few sips of my blood. It should have been intrusive, violating… but it wasn’t.

 ‘Don’t be embarrassed, Y/N,’ his eyes darkened as he gazed at me, it felt like he was caressing me with his voice, ‘you taste positively exquisite. Remind me to thank Dr Helsing for finding you for me, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to achieve such a feat on my own with the world being as advanced as it is now.’

 ‘I’m surprised you’re taking your time with that. After a hundred years of starving, I’m not sure I could be quite as reserved.’ I pulled my jumper sleeves down over my hands again, the feeling of being exposed making me want to cover as much as possible.

 ‘Yes, well, I’m not quite sure why the good doctor lied about that. See, while they did corner me on the beach I managed to escape and find myself a meal a fair distance from the city.’ He informed me, his casual mention of murder should have repulsed me, but it didn’t. I had no idea what that said about me.

 ‘Somehow, Dr Helsing’s little foundation found me and here I am, able to enjoy your life’s essence slowly, which is excellent as that is exactly how this blood should be consumed.’ He held up his blood bag in an ironic salute before taking another sip.

 ‘That sucks. That you escaped and still ended up being captured, I mean.’ I said before I could stop myself. Logically I knew he was dangerous, and the safest option would probably be to keep him locked up somewhere like this. But I just couldn’t help the pang of sympathy and injustice that flared in my gut at the thought.

 ‘Indeed,’ Dracula grinned, his eyes seemed unable to stray away from me as he drank, as if he were matching up what he tasted to what he saw. I wondered if he found himself disappointed, if he thought the meek girl sitting in front of him didn’t measure up to the supposedly exquisite blood he was drinking.

 A few moments later, a guard bought me some food—beef chow mien with a glass of water and a small paper cup containing three tablets. I swallowed the pills one at a time before digging into my own food, relishing the flavours that exploded in my mouth. I didn’t know if it was the blood loss, or the influence of Dracula enjoying his own food, but Chinese had never tasted so good. When I was finished, I pushed my tray an inch from me, a habit I’d picked up whenever I was finished with a meal.

 ‘So, Y/N, tell me about yourself.’ He murmured, now leaning back in his chair, right ankle resting on his left knee, while his right hand served as a rest for his head.

 ‘I’m sure you know more about me than anyone else ever has,’ I told him honestly—if he’d been able to pick up a few things from a mere few mouthfuls then I was sure he knew me better than anyone now he’d finished the entire pint.

 ‘Perhaps.’ He chuckled, the sound was dark, yet warm, ‘but I’d still like to hear it from your lips.’

 I frowned and subconsciously bit my lower lip, unaware that his eyes followed the movement. Honestly, there was nothing interesting about me that sprang to mind in that moment, so I decided to offer him some mundane facts.

 ‘I graduated from the University of Oxford a few months ago with a first class honours in biomedical science.’ I started, my voice reeling off the information without much thought, ‘I started the programme about a year ago, but then I was only giving a pint of blood a week, I decided to take on this… promotion, if that’s what you want to call it… after graduation as a way to earn an income while I looked for a job related to my degree.’

 ‘Why science?’ he wondered, the leg that had been propped on his knee fell to the floor, allowing him to lean forward and rest his elbows on the table. I couldn’t help but blush at the genuine interest in his eyes; it was an emotion that no one had ever before regarded me with.

 ‘It was a subject that always fascinated me in school,’ I shrugged, clutching my legs tighter as his eyes narrowed.

 ‘No.’

 ‘No?’ I frowned.

 ‘No.’ he repeated simply, ‘you’re lying, Y/N. So I’ll ask again, why science?’

 I sighed, my shoulders slumping in defeat, but I should have known that lying wouldn’t work when he’d already tasted the truth in my blood.

 ‘I took science because I found it interesting, that wasn’t a lie, but the main reason was because… my mum was a scientist and I wanted to make her proud.’ My tone was hollow, not expecting him to understand the sentimentality behind my decision.

 ‘You miss your parents greatly.’ He said, his voice surprisingly gentle and I felt my eyes close in response as I nodded, ‘I can taste it. Your loss flows in your blood, but it is only a faint passing flavour. I’m sure your parents would be proud of your ability to move forward with your life, without completely forgetting about them.’

 My eyes fluttered open and I took a deep breath in an attempt to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over.

 ‘Thank you, I needed to hear that.’ My voice was quiet, probably too low for any human to hear, but the slight nod the Count aimed in my direction assured me he’d picked up my softly spoken words.

 ‘It’s been an hour.’ Dr Helsing’s voice startled me from my reverie, and I realised that I’d been staring into Dracula’s eyes, lost in the apparent warmth and uncharacteristic softness.

 ‘Why is the ceiling closed?’ Dr Helsing asked, her voice sounding a mixture of disapproving and curious.

 ‘I told them to close it.’ I said, standing from my chair, suddenly feeling very self-aware now that Dr Helsing had disrupted the calm little bubble that we had been immersed in. It was something I hadn’t realised existed until she had disrupted it, and I was surprised by the lack of concern over my internal revelation.

 ‘That was very stupid.’ She remarked with pursed lips as she approached the Count, who was now stood finding solace in the corner he’d been confined to when I’d first entered his cell.

 I didn’t respond to her comment, instead I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the glass wall across from the door. I stared blankly at the floor, wondering what I could do tonight; the few friends I had either had work, plans or were away on holiday. So going out wasn’t an option, but that was fine, honestly a quiet night in sounded absolutely perfect. Although a small part of me was yearning to stay in the Count’s company a little longer, I decided that leaving and giving myself some distance from the vampire was probably the best idea.

 ‘Well, I’ll be leaving then.’ I announced suddenly, unintentionally cutting off the conversation they’d been having.

 ‘So soon?’ Dracula asked. I wondered if I imagined the tremor of despair in his tone, but I shook it off.

 ‘Yes, I-I uh should be getting home. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ I offered him a small but genuine smile. Despite my earlier trepidation, meeting him had actually been rather pleasant and I’d found myself relaxed in his company—which was quite rare.

 ‘I’ll be seeing you soon, Y/N.’ His voice wrapped around me like a warm blanket and I found my eyes fluttering shut for a moment as I made my way to the door, as if to savour the feeling.

 If I hadn’t been so lost in that sensation and focused on making my way to the door without walking into something, I might’ve picked up on the dark promise that coated his words.

[theshatteredrose]

Breaking the Silence (Fafnir/Flavio) - Etrian Odyssey Untold 2

Title: Breaking the Silence

Summary: Flavio is cursed. Unable to speak until the conditions of the dark spell are met. The ever indifferent and relatively unhelpful Mahogany of the Guardians suggest they use the True Love method.

Pairings: Fafnir/Flavio

Notes: Set in EOUntold2 with guest appearances of Lynus and Mahogany from the CtS Series/Guardians guild.

AN: Been a while since I wrote a oneshot, let alone a Fafnir/Flavio one. Well, here we are. Enjoy~

~*~*~*~*~

Flavio sat awkwardly in the inn’s tea room. The fire was blazing, as it usually was that late afternoon, and the chairs were as comfortable as ever. Yet, he shifted awkwardly in his seat. The need to set upon his feet and pace was overwhelming, but he stayed put.

He could barely comprehend what he had just learnt from the sympathetic medic and indifferent hexer that sat across from him. He opened his mouth in an attempt to ask them to please repeat what they had just revealed. But nothing would come out. No words would pass his lips.

And if they were right, no more words would pass his lips until the curse he had been cast upon him had its conditions met.

“Mind running that pass me again?” Fafnir thankfully asked from where he sat next to Flavio. Asking the words Flavio himself could not.

Lynus, the gentle medic, sent Fafnir another purely sympathetic look. “It’s a curse,” he replied bluntly. “A curse that is preventing Flavio from speaking. It’s an…unusual one, I will admit. But a curse nevertheless.”

“A curse is merely a dark spell,” Mahogany, the far too nonchalant hexer added. “Conditions need to be met before the curse can be lifted.”

“Yes, we understand that much,” Fafnir returned, perhaps too tersely at that. “But what are those conditions?”

Lynus opened his mouth, no doubt ready to give them a comforting and reassuring response. However, Mahogany spoke up before he had the chance.

“No idea. May have something to do with true love or something similar.”

Lynus closed his eyes and uttered a silent sigh of mild frustration while Mahogany continued to stare at both Flavio and Fafnir with aggravating indifference.

Flavio had to admit that he felt his eye twitch in annoyance, too. Hexers truly were a breed of their own.

“This isn’t a fairy tale,” Fafnir returned, his own frustration barely restrained.

“No, it’s a dark spell,” Mahogany quipped in response. “Lynus may be able to learn the conditions through examination and healing, but there’s no harm in trying the whole “true love breaking the spell” that fairy tales are fond of.”

Fafnir glared at Mahogany for a moment longer. And yet, his expression unexpectedly took on a thoughtful turn; his head tilted slightly to the side, the corner of his lip slightly unturned, and his eyes holding a faraway gaze.

He was considering something.

He…wasn’t actually considering what Mahogany said, was he?

Lynus pushed himself to his feet, that ever present gentle expression of comfort on his face. “I’ll do some more research. And we’ll leave the two of you for a moment to truly comprehend your…situation.”

Flavio attempted the thank the ever-considerate medic, only to snap his mouth shut a moment later. Yep, he still couldn’t talk.

And for someone who liked to chatter when nervous or uneasy, his foreseeable future was going to be difficult.

Lynus sent him another sympathetic look as he snared Mahogany by his elbow and prompted him to follow him from the room. The hexer followed, still far too casual and nonchalant. Something that Flavio found silently annoying.

Wait, not silently, that was a slip up.

…Gah, he was going to be finding a lot of things silently annoying, wasn’t he?

“Do consider the True Love Method,” Mahogany casually threw over his shoulder.

When the two members of the Guardian guild left the room, they shut the door behind them.

And silence followed.

Silence…

Silence had never been so loud. Flavio never paid much attention to the noises found in solitude. The crackling fire. The rustling of leaves from the wind outside the window.

The sound of Fafnir breathing next to him.

Instinctively, Flavio reached up with his hand to gingerly touch his neck. There was nothing there for him to feel. No markings. He didn’t even have a sore throat.

Visibly, physically, there was nothing there.

But something was stopping his voice dead.

Unable to speak was sure to cause trouble in the labyrinth, right? Was he going to be a burden in future expeditions?

“You’re not going to be a burden,” Fafnir suddenly stated, responding as if he had just read his mind.

Flavio felt a sudden spike of panic. Had he just read his mind? Did he have that ability? Was that another skill of the Fafnir knight? What else did he-?

“I can’t read your mind,” Fafnir interrupted his thoughts, suspiciously responding as if he really had just read his mind. “I just know what you’re thinking. Everyone else comes first. First thought was bound to be musing about what trouble you could cause. And the answer is none.”

Flavio blinked. In that moment, he was grateful that he was unable to speak. He hadn’t a clue what to say.

A part of him was genuinely happy that Fafnir knew him so well. While another part of him was disgruntled that Fafnir knew him so well.

But, not being able to speak in an environment that could turn deadly within seconds, an environment that a life of a teammate could be saved with a word of warning, was going to make things difficult. There was no way around it.

Flavio was the survivalist of the team. His job was to keep an eye on their surroundings. To warn his teammates of any threat. And the quickest, easiest way to do just that was to speak. It was how they worked together. They didn’t have time to re-establish their formation to integrate his new and sudden form of mutism.

He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened to one of his teammates because he was unable to warn them in time.

If something happened to Fafnir…

He…had better find a way to restore his voice. And he had better find it quickly.

“As much as that hexer annoys me, he may be onto something,” Fafnir unexpectedly stated, his voice quickly pulling Flavio from his musings.

Flavio furrowed his brow and tilted his head questioningly to the side as he stared at Fafnir.

“You want your voice back as quickly as possible, right?” Fafnir asked him.

That much was obvious, but Flavio nodded his head nevertheless.

Fafnir shifted in his seat, pivoting to face him. Flavio instinctively did the same. Somewhat startled by the intensity of Fafnir’s eyes.

“Can I try something?” Fafnir asked quietly.

Once more inwardly thankful that he was unable to speak, Flavio nodded his head.

Fafnir raised his hand and gently placed it against Flavio’s cheek. The touch was gentle, and it prompted Flavio to draw in a sharp intake of air. He was certain that his eyes widened slightly, but he did not turn away.

Flavio felt his heartrate increase when Fafnir slowly leaned forward. His face moving toward his.

The world around them faded as Flavio’s eyes closed on their own accord and his body moved forward on its own, intent on meeting Fafnir half way.

Fafnir’s lips touched his, tentatively at first, but became emboldened when Flavio pressed forward. As Fafnir pressed his lips, his mouth melding against his, heatedly and yet warmly, a strange tightness that Flavio didn’t realise he had against the back of his neck suddenly dissipated.

It was an odd sensation, but highly insignificant compared to the feeling that Fafnir was lighting within him.

Flavio paid little attention to the very audible sigh he murmured as he tilted his head to the side ever so slightly. The angle allowing for Fafnir to thread his fingers through his hair. And to deepen the kiss further.

He was so deeply lost within the sensation of Fafnir kissing him that he hadn’t realised that he had also pulled him closer. Half on his lap and half of the couch they sat upon.

And he hadn’t realised that he wrapped his own arms around Fafnir’s neck until he heard a sound. A sharp sound. A telling sound of someone clearing their throat.

With an “eep!” of surprise, another sound he emitted that he paid little attention to, Flavio all but tore his lips away from Fafnir’s incessant ones. And stared wide-eyed at the now open door to the tea room. A doorway that held two familiar individuals.

Flavio was rendered speechless. And yet, he felt that it wasn’t because of the curse. But of pure embarrassment!

The right thing to do was the scramble off of Fafnir’s lap and splutter something in response. Some kind of excuse to explain the all-too scandalous situation.

But he couldn’t move. No, he didn’t want to move.

Perhaps he was too shocked. Too comfortable. Or too unwilling to end the very thing he had wanted for so long.

Annoyingly, Mahogany looked smug, yet still indifferent. Smugly indifferent? Was that possible?

Wait, no, there was more pressing concerns to attend with. Namely just how much did they, ah, see?

“Everything,” Mahogany replied. Yet another person who answered his unspoken words. “And I was right.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fafnir returned sharply, doing nothing to hide his annoyance. “You can gloat later. We’re busy right now.”

Flavio felt his blush deepen, but still, he did nothing to pull him away from Fafnir. Not that he could even if he wanted to; Fafnir had tightened his arms around him, ensuring that he wouldn’t scramble away.

“B-but the curse…?” Flavio suddenly asked.

And his eyes widened a fraction later when he heard his own voice.

His voice was back?

“The curse seems to have been lifted,” Lynus explained, he, too, unexpectedly unbothered by the situation.

As if wasn’t the first time he walked in on someone, ah, making out.

“And we’ll leave you be,” Lynus continued, a small smile on his lips. “Just wished to let you know that whoever placed that curse upon you, Flavio, appears to be attempting to play matchmaker. Lucky for them, it seemed to have worked.”

Lucky for them, indeed.

Whoever they were.

Though, it was unsettling that someone would go to such…extremes. Was he just a test run? Where they just feeling bored?

Did they even care?

“There’s going to be a spate of cursed mutes, isn’t there?” Flavio mused allowed.

“Probably,” Lynus replied with a sigh. He then took Mahogany by the elbow once more. “Dinner will be ready in an hour. You may wish to move yourself to a more…private setting.”

With that said, Lynus offered them another smile before he pulled Mahogany from the room and promptly closed the door.

The second the door made an audible click to indicate that it had been closed, Fafnir took Flavio by the chin. “Where were we?” he asked.

He, however, didn’t want for an answer as he immediately pulled Flavio closer and kissed him once more.

While Flavio was grateful that he had his voice back, he was also intently pleased that he wasn’t going to be needing to use it for a while.

Well, not use it in a normal sense, that was.

[thatvixenchick]

AUgust Day 18 - Bodyguard

Hiroi/Take/Mine from Choco Strawberry Vanilla

(This is entirely self indulgent because I barely know anyone that enjoys this manga, but I love it, and this is gonna be reflective of their dysfunctionally functional relationship from the source material, so Dubcon Warning I guess. #hatersgonnahate)

Mine managed to get pretty far with his visitor pass half hidden in his jacket and a confident look on his face like he belonged. He skirted around security and cut a path straight through the set the crew was building in order to get to the trailers in the back lot. That was where the stars were. That was where Hiroi was.

Of course, Hiroi being the highest paid actor on the movie set meant he had a personal bodyguard who was always on duty. The guy, Take, was well known among fans, sticking to Hiroi’s side so much that fanfiction was written of the two. Mine was praying that his luck would hold out and Take would be taking a break himself, but Mine should have known better. Take was there, just outside the door of Hiroi’s trailer, and Mine wasn’t getting any further.

Mine wasn’t unprepared. He argued that he and Hiroi were friends from high school, and if Take looked it up, then he’d see it was true that they attended the same school and were in the same class. However, Take refused to listen to Mine, resulting in a too loud argument that had Hiroi himself poking his head out to assess the situation.

It was a dream come true to see Hiroi in person once more, and that would have been enough, but Hiroi actually remembered Mine, stating far too bluntly that Mine was shy and never talked to anyone in school and always made poor grades. Despite that, Hiroi appeared happy to see Mine and invited him inside, not that Take was happy about that. He followed.

Hiroi asked if there was anything Mine would like to say, and Mine, not wanting to waste his one and only opportunity, confessed. Hiroi looked overjoyed, but Take said, “No. Not again.”

What Mine didn’t know was that Hiroi loved to give all of himself for the chance at such love returned. He always agreed to date whoever confessed to him, but everyone expected happy, handsome, friendly Hiroi to be the man of their dreams. They didn’t expect him to be someone other than exactly what they dreamed he was. Take had to watch and pick up the pieces every time Hiroi’s heart was shattered, and he didn’t want Hiroi to suffer again.

But Mine remembered that in high school, girls would complain that Hiroi was soulless. Mine knew better. He’d seen a girl break up with Hiroi and how, after she’d left, he curled up and sobbed. Mine was determined to love Hiroi no matter what. When Hiroi entered the acting world, Mine devoured everything Hiroi was in. Mine loved every character, pure or evil, no matter what, because any one of them could be a full or partial reflection of the real Hiroi.

Take was protective and didn’t trust Mine’s distanced devotion to last in the face of the real Hiroi. So when Mine confessed, claiming that Hiroi was the only one that was kind to Mine in high school, Take assumed the worst. Take demanded that Hiroi test it. So Hiroi took off his shoe and stuck out his foot. “Kiss it,” he said, in the most sadistic voice he could muster.

To both their surprise, Mine did, gladly. Hiroi lit up like a beacon, his sunshine nature bursting through his acting in an instant. He said, “I’ve never dated a man before, so I hope you will patiently guide me.”

Take was still not happy about this, but he could never deny Hiroi anything. So when a date was set for Mine to spend two days at Hiroi’s apartment, Take continued pushing Mine’s limits. He took Mine’s phone and shoes first to lock away in case they tried to record anything detrimental to Hiroi’s career. Then he took all of Mine’s clothes, stating that Mine wouldn’t dare to share pictures of their time together if he was in such a compromising position.

Mine agreed, and Hiroi was excited to play a number of new games including “sit on the floor so I can feed you Take’s cooking by hand” and “use only your mouth to show how much you love me.” Mine never backed down, basking in the attention of the person he’d been in love with for so many years now, accepting his embarrassment as a sacrifice given to make Hiroi happy.

They continued like this for weeks until the night they were in a private booth at a club. Hiroi was drunk, and Take was quiet. Mine was happy simply being held and touched by Hiroi, despite the semi-public setting. But then Hiroi apologized to Take for being selfish. Hiroi explained that Take didn’t know how to feel anything, but after so much time together, he could share Hiroi’s emotions so long as Hiroi offered them.

Hiroi wanted Take to be happy, so Hiroi shared everything that made him happy. Take was devoted because of that. But Hiroi had been so happy with Mine, that he’d been afraid Mine would run if he pushed too far. Mine was confused since he had thought he’d proved that he would never leave Hiroi. Happy to hear this, Hiroi said he wanted to share how wonderful Mine’s body was with Take.

That was when it clicked. Hiroi wanted Mine to be sexual with the both of them. To Mine’s shock, Take wasn’t against this. Apparently, they’d done such things before, though historically with women, and the women typically broke up with Hiroi within a few months afterwards. Sometimes the women fell in love with Take instead, believing Take to be kinder, gentler, more attentive, but Take was none of those things, he only treated them with care because he shared Hiroi’s affection. If they didn’t love Hiroi, Take couldn’t love them.

Mine wasn’t sure what to make of all that he was hearing, nor could he understand it well what with Hiroi undressing him. Still, Mine was a man on a mission, and if this was Take’s next challenge, then Mine would take it head on.

As it turned out, having sex with the three of them was enjoyable, though it typically left Mine worn out. Take was a gentle lover if Hiroi asked him to be, but Mine had said that Take could do whatever pleased him. Take was NOT a gentle lover, but he wasn’t cruel, either. He cared for Mine, and even if it was because of Hiroi, it left Mine feeling odd. He didn’t want to have feelings for Take, ever. How would he be able to prove that he was forever devoted to Hiroi, with all of his being, if he also had feelings for Take?

So, Mine made sure to hate Take at all times.

Hiroi did his best to make the two get along, but it was a dynamic that Take and Mine approved of. Take wanted to be hated, and Mine wanted to hate. The sex was intense, to say the least.

It was nearly a year before Take would allow Hiroi to even talk about possibly making his relationship with Mine public, mostly because Mine was having a harder and harder time finding time off work to visit Hiroi. If Mine simply lived at the apartment or house Hiroi owned in whatever city he was filming, then it would save on housekeeping bills. Mine could cook, clean, and watch the plants. Maybe Hiroi could finally get a pet! He had always wanted a pet.

Mine wasn’t sure how he felt about being what was essentially a kept housewife, so Hiroi offered to make a space for Mine to work on cars since that was what his trade education was in. Being able to restore cars for sale sounded like a much better option to him.

Then, one day, they were out shopping when a crowd of people descended on Hiroi. The staff and Take did their best to control the mob while Hiroi giggled over the attention. Mine recognized a few of them from one of Hiroi’s more active fan groups. They would plot to move en masse whenever they could confirm where Hiroi would be. They all assumed he was with them, which was the only reason none of them spared him a look, and it was why Mine was the only one to see the danger closing in.

There had been one other guy in the fan club meetings that was as obsessive as Mine was, but that guy was dangerous, constantly talking about wanting to collect pieces of Hiroi. He was there, stepping forward with a knife in his hand. Mine threw himself at Hiroi and got himself sliced for his effort. Take took the guy down immediately after, while the girls began screaming.

It was a small knife, so Mine wasn’t sure why he felt so dizzy until someone shouted something about nicking an artery. What terrible luck. And now there was a mob of fangirls between him and the door if he wanted to get to medical care. Well, at least he’d been able to spend so much time with Hiroi, so perhaps that was a fair trade. Especially since Hiroi was holding him tight and saying that he loved him over and over. Mine’s only regret was that Hiroi was crying.

Mine woke in the hospital feeling groggy. To his surprise, Take was sitting beside the bed, but Hiroi was nowhere in sight. Apparently, the fan girls had proceeded to beat Hiroi’s attacker nearly to death and Hiroi had to follow the whole group to the police station to give a full report on what happened. Hiroi was torn in two, knowing he was required by law to go to the station (and also wanting to help his fans not go to jail for attempted murder) and desperately wanting to be with Mine at the hospital. So Take, for the first time since being hired, left Hiroi’s side to stay by Mine’s.

And since they had time alone, Take proceeded to explain everything he expected out of Mine when he moved in with Hiroi. It was the most round about way of approving their relationship, but for Take, it was huge. And perhaps Mine realized that Take did love Mine in his own way, and not in proxy of Hiroi. And maybe Mine loved Take as well, and that was okay, because it didn’t diminish how much of himself he gave to Hiroi. Take and Mine were bound to Hiroi, but that made them understand each other on a level nobody else could.

So in the end, Hiroi and Mine’s relationship was revealed, the fans loved it because Mine had saved Hiroi’s life, Mine moved in, Take made space on the bed for Mine to take the middle, and now there was fanfiction written about all three of them. Wouldn’t it be such a surprise if those authors knew that it was true?

[the-dc-killjoy]

Pancakes or Waffles? by TurtlemanTremors084 @the-dc-killjoy​

LegacyRider (Implied LegacyQuakerider), G, 1.8k, Chapter 1/1

Summary:

When Daisy's away on a mission, Robbie and Trip have to figure out what they mean to each other. They're both a bit rough around the edges, but horrible cooking and stunted communication can be overcome, right? Who would have thought that Daisy was the mature one in their relationship?

Set in my LegacyQuakerider/Trip!Lives AU that will get an actual series name (eventually).

Thanks to @soulofevil​ for sifting her way through my madness.

- Read on AO3

Trip was abruptly shaken from his early morning haze by the sounds of someone working in the kitchen.

He paused with a toothbrush still in his mouth to take a few cursory sniffs. The minty scent of toothpaste was overwhelming, but even it didn't mask the smell of burning food. Gladly, there was no trace of that pungent odor.

Even if her mission ended early and she was back in the apartment, Daisy was now eliminated as the mystery cook. Trip continued brushing, while listening out for the fire alarm, and spat when he concluded that there was no imminent threat. Half expecting a masked intruder to be parked in their kitchen at 7am on a Saturday, he was shocked by the sight that greeted him.

Robbie stood over a large bowl with his hair still mussed from sleep and wearing the pajama pants Trip swore Robbie had thrown away. Instead of his usual scowl at the flame patterned clothing, his brows were furrowed in concentration and his tongue parted his lips.

Their relationship was still achingly new, but Trip knew their dynamics. He cooked, Robbie could be forced to bake, and Daisy whispered lewd comments from her seat on the counter, far, far away from any kitchen equipment.

Robbie reached to grab something from a lower drawer, and Trip suddenly understood Daisy's good-natured wolf whistles when either of them bent over. He reached up for something on a higher shelf, and Trip decided to announce his presence.

He cleared his throat before shuffling closer, socked feet sliding on the kitchen tiles.

"I didn't know that you cooked." Trip didn't wait for a response before hopping up onto Daisy's usual spot on the counter.

"Of course, I cook," Robbie snapped then deflated. "Sorry, I-"

"It's okay." It was fine. He just pressed the wrong buttons. It stung a bit, but Trip now knows what line not to cross.

"No-" he huffed, "no, it isn't." Robbie placed the bowl on the counter with a bit more force than necessary and turned to face Trip.

"This is our first time together without Daisy, and I wanted to make it special. Clearly I’m not too good at that."

"Oh." Oh . They really haven't spent long periods of time together, just the two of them. Sure, there were movie nights when Daisy fell asleep or little missions, but he was usually at SHIELD with her, or Robbie was off on his 'night shift'.

"No!" Afraid that Robbie would take his outburst as something negative, he continued, "We- uh, we could make breakfast together." It came out like a question, and Trip wondered if terrigenesis stripped him of his composure along with his ability to remember things like a normal person.

Robbie paused for a few seconds as a grin worked its way onto his lips. "That sounds… great."

They quickly settled into a routine. Robbie finished the batter, Trip hunted down the frying pan, and they made out while the pancakes cooked. Things got a bit too heated, both figuratively and literally, and the flapjack started to burn behind their backs.

The second time they actually paid attention to the pan, but the pancakes took on a puzzling mushy quality halfway through the cooking time and had to be scrapped.

Third time's the charm, they said. Trip poured while Robbie glared at the pancake like it was a bomb. It didn't explode, but Robbie had every right to be cautious, and the disaster of Pancake Number Three was never mentioned again.

"You have cooked before, right?"

The batter was long gone, frying pan destroyed, and they were sitting at the table, clothes too filthy to risk contaminating the couch.

Robbie glowered. "My mom practically hoarded cookbooks, but I left them with Gabe when I came out here. Besides, neither of us had the time to make 'em."

"I knew you were a coffee and go type of guy! Daisy had her doubts, but I've never failed in my food matching quest."

The little joke succeeded in warming the mood a bit, and Robbie quipped, "Instant oatmeal and coffee kind of guy, actually. Cheap and delicious."

"That's debatable." Trip playfully scrunched his nose in disgust.

His expression brightened when Robbie's laugh bubbled up from his chest and he ducked his head to resume picking at the dried batter on his arms.

Inspired by the comfortable silence that descended on them, Trip offered a proposal, "Um, since breakfast was a bust, do you want to head out to get something?"

Robbie opened his mouth, paused in consideration, and replied, "I'd like that."

There was a joint effort to restore the kitchen to its former glory. It was mostly successful. The thoroughly battered kitchen equipment was soaking, and the floured floors were swept, but there was a permanent addition in the form of a palm-shaped burn mark on the marble counter.

If Daisy asks how it appeared, Robbie will plead the fifth.

Now that the kitchen no longer looked like a war zone, he shuffled off to the bathroom to shower and change into something with fewer cartoon flames. Robbie popped out of the bedroom, ready to start the day a full two hours after he expected.

He zipped up his gray hoodie before following Trip out the door. After an eight block walk, that Trip called an adventure, yet he thought was wandering aimlessly, the two men finally arrived at their destination.

It was a little mom-and-pops diner that seemed immune to the atmosphere of the sleek buildings surrounding the shop. Trip seemed at ease with the owners, striking up a conversation with familiar simplicity.

Nothing caused the hairs on the back of Robbie's neck to stand at alert, and the Rider's growl was soft and nonthreatening. He relaxed fully when Trip slipped into the booth with him, and they waited for their food to be served.

Coffee and scrambled eggs for him, and hot chocolate and fried eggs for Trip. They both chuckled and added a plate of flapjacks to share. The morning piqued their interest, and hatred, of the delicious breakfast food.

They finished their meal slowly, enjoying the food and the company. Robbie thought this was sweet, domestic in a way that he hadn't felt since Gabe, and peaceful in a way that he hadn’t felt in years .

Robbie let himself be pulled through the city yet again. They were sauntering home, but not in the same way they came. Trip was invigorated by turning leaves, and wanted to take the scenic route .

He wasn't a big fan of the slight chill and deeply regretted leaving his jacket at the apartment, but Trip's brilliant smile could convince Robbie to do much worse than stroll through the park.

Robbie quickly became lost in his thoughts, but he didn't drift too far away from the sight in front of him. Trip, framed by yellow-orange leaves and the occasional fiery red, was a big part of his musings.

Robbie had been with a man when he was younger, but he never felt like this. They had been boys, neither having any experience with relationships or life in general, and that relationship fizzled out just as quickly as it surged to the surface. Whenever he looked at Trip, warmth spread through him, just as overwhelming as the Rider taking over but never painful.

The gorgeous man with warm brown skin, bright eyes, and a brighter smile had no idea how far Robbie had fallen. He didn't fully know until Trip beamed back at him from his position a few feet ahead, and the telltale fervor swirled in his chest, overflowing until it spread through his whole body.

Robbie didn't feel exactly the same way about Trip and Daisy, but that feeling, that all-encompassing affection, was a steady constant. He was shaken from his realization by Trip asking him a question. Robbie didn't even know that Trip had taken his attention away from the path until his worried brown eyes were focused on him.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah- um, yes," he stuttered before hurrying his pace.

Trip's brows were furrowed,  but he seemed to understand that Robbie either wasn't going to tell him or it wasn't important enough to find out.

They had ambled together in peaceful silence until Trip piped up, repeating his previous question, "Pancakes or waffles?"

"I know terrigenesis gives you a ridiculous metabolism, but even you can't want to eat again."

To his surprise, Trip started laughing, not a few chuckles here and there, but a full, belly laugh. Robbie didn't know whether to glower or join in, so he remained still until Trip regained his wits.

He cleared his throat and brushed away imaginary tears before extending a hand. Trip slipped his palm into Robbie’s and brought their connected hands up to eye level.

“Pancakes,” he murmured.

He loosened his grip and rotated his palm until their fingers were parallel and then interlaced the digits. Robbie stood transfixed by the sight and the feeling of Trip’s softer hand sliding over his calloused palm. “Waffles.”

Trip started to pull away at Robbie’s lack of response, but he held his grip. "I think we've had enough of pancakes."

They were a few feet away from the entrance of the park which was only two blocks away from their nice warm apartment, but Robbie didn't want to break their connected hands to gesture that fact. After a bit of whining from his part, and pleading from Trip, they sat down on a bench.

Although the fall breeze nipped at his neck, the wood wasn't quite as cold as he expected. Robbie would deny it if asked, but it did feel good to be off his feet with a full stomach and a hand tangled together with his own.

Robbie glanced down at their intertwined hands then back to the man beside him. Trip's gaze was occupied, focused on his lips, but Robbie knew he'd never try to kiss him without permission, especially in public.

The corners of his lips twitched upwards, and he licked them before leaning forward to press his lips to Trip's. They were slightly chapped by the dry air, and Trip tasted like marmalade and the awful diner coffee that he stole a few sips of. Robbie could stay here forever, just soaking up those little details. The kiss wasn't fueled by blinding passion and need, but he felt more exposed, more intimate, in this moment than any other.

Maybe that’s what changed on the bench, or in the diner, or in the kitchen, or in the brief moment when he realized just how deep his feelings ran. Looking back, Robbie couldn’t pinpoint exactly when, but that chilly Saturday morning was the beginning of something comfortable between them. Well, that, and their obsession with pancakes.

[lilacmoon83]

A Darker Curse

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 29: Bad Blood

Snow looked at herself in the full length bathroom mirror and gently rubbed the towel through her wet hair. Her pixie cut had no signs of gray anymore, though before she had kept it dyed, taking advantage of this world's benefits in that respect. But there would be no need for that anymore. She then took a deep breath and opened her towel, looking at her body in the full length mirror on the back of the door. She knew Charming's words were true. He found her beautiful and sexy, this version and her older version. But she was still curious to see the changes that would be evident in her body.

She had done her best to stay trim and in shape over the years and time had been kind to her, actually. But there was still some noticeable difference. Her hips were still widened from pregnancy and she had subtle stretch marks on her belly from carrying Emma and a few on her thighs. But any wrinkling in her skin was gone and back to being much tighter than before. And her breasts...well, they were definitely perkier than they had been in years. She scoffed at herself. She was being really silly and her husband had already proved to her, more than once, how attractive he thought she was, even twenty-years older than him. And though she was grateful to have the twenty-years they lost essentially restored to her, she would always be grateful for her time with him as she was before. They had proven to all that their love was stronger and so much deeper than age and she liked that they could stick it to all those that had ever doubted them.

She had twenty-years to reflect on things that happened before the curse and the people she and Charming had surrounded themselves with in their court. Some of their trust was well placed and then there were sadly a few that she had serious questions about now.

Regina and Robin, of course, were always in their corner, as was Red and Granny. But she had some serious doubts now about the loyalty of the Blue Fairy and Geppetto. She knew August loved her and wanted nothing to do with them, but she had a feeling that Geppetto wasn't going to let her son be. In reality, she just wanted him to be happy and if that meant he wanted to forge some kind of relationship with the woodcarver, then she'd be happy for him. She knew that she was his Mom and that wasn't going to change. But they had betrayed her once and she would be lying if she said she didn't fear betrayal from them again. Archie had played a part in the lie too, though she had a feeling it had greatly troubled him. She wondered what they had done to convince him to go along with it.

Gently, she pulled her robe on and exited the bathroom. She spotted her husband locking up for the night and saw a text on her phone from her son. He was with Tink, which surprised her a bit, but then didn't. She had seen the signs of something between them. She just hoped Tink planned on sticking around. She feared for her son's heart if the fairy decided that Storybrooke wasn't for her.

"Everything okay?" David asked, as she looked up at him and she nodded.

"August...he's staying with Tink tonight," she mentioned. He smirked.

"You called that one," he said. She nodded.

"But that's not what has you so distracted," he added. She sighed.

"I'm just worried about him. I don't want him to feel like he's being pulled in a tug of war," she replied.

"August loves you. He's your son...because you raised him and Geppetto should be thanking you profusely. If he had sent August to this world by himself...that would have been pretty damaging. You're the reason that August is the man that he is," David reminded her.

"I know...and I can accept it if August wants Geppetto to be a part of his life, but I don't think Geppetto can accept me as a part of August's," she lamented.

"He doesn't have a choice and he's a fool if he can't see how lucky he was that you were there for August," David said.

"You raised two children by yourself. Look at the amazing people they are...because of you," he said.

"You are the most wonderful, amazing mother in all the realms," he said, as she swiped a tear away.

"I thought of you...every minute of every day. Any strength I had...I drew it from you and them. All for this moment...when we would finally be together again," she cried. He smiled.

"And we are. We did it, Snow. Cora is dead and nothing is ever tearing this family apart gain," he said passionately. She breathed in relief and lost herself in him, as their lips met passionately.

"I need you…" she begged, as she hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt and he undid the cord of her robe. Their lips met again, as she fumbled with his belt and he pushed her robe into a puddle on the floor. She yelped, as he lifted her up and they fell to the bed for a bout of frenzied lovemaking.

~*~

Greg put down his phone, as he heard a knock at his door and got up to answer it. He thought it might be Tink again, but was shocked to find Tamara behind the door.

"Tamara…" he uttered.

"Surprised to see me?" she questioned.

"Uh yes, I didn't know you could even get here yet. I mean...without an enchanted object," he said, as she walked in without an invite.

"You mean like the enchanted map that you just gave back to the leaders of this town?" she questioned and he felt a ripple of fear slither down his spine. It was well known that Tamara was ruthless when she needed to be.

"I didn't have a lot of choice. I decided that giving it up was better than getting locked up like Detective Bishop," he covered quickly.

"I suppose you're right and so you know...it seems that whatever barrier was around this place before is gone now. Curious, isn't it?" she asked.

"It is…" he agreed.

"So...tell me everything so we can complete our mission here," Tamara said.

"What exactly is the mission?" he asked. She looked back at him.

"To destroy magic, of course. This town is lousy with it, especially now, isn't that right?" she asked.

"Maybe...but the evil is gone. I've found out that Cora was the reason for all the bad and the reason my father was killed. No further action is needed here," he replied. Tamara snorted.

"This town doesn't belong in this world! Magic...it's unholy," she argued.

"Look...I know that's what they've always told us, but the rest of the people here are innocent. The Evil Queen was the real evil and now that she's gone, there will be peace here," he insisted.

"Wrong...magic must be destroyed and the war has just begun," she replied, as she looked out the window.

"We can't hurt innocent people, especially for a cause that might have ill intentions. I've been talking to Tia…" he started to say, but she cut him off.

"You mean Tinkerbell?" Tamara questioned.

"She has a lot of reasons to hate magic too, but she made me see that Cora was the real villain and that there is no need to take it out on a town full of innocent people. She said that someone sinister is behind the Home Office," he explained.

"Oh did she?" Tamara asked.

"Think about it, Tamara...we get anonymous orders and we don't even know who is really running this thing. We're pawns," he replied.

"Maybe you're right…" she said, pretending to think for a moment. He sighed in relief, but then his eyes widened, as she pulled a gun on him and it was capped with a silencer.

"Guess it's checkmate for you," she said.

"No...Tamara, wait!" he cried, but there was no hesitation from her, as she laughed.

"Oh, I'm not going to kill you," she said, as she pressed the barrel to his head.

"You're going to do that yourself," she said ominously.

~*~

"Are you sure you don't want to wait until morning to do this?" Robin asked, as they approached Cora's vault.

"No...those people out there deserve to have their hearts back sooner rather than later, especially Graham," Regina said. He nodded in agreement.

"My mother hurt so many people and destroyed so many lives," she added.

"She did...but she finally paid for it full," he said. She nodded.

"Besides, this place doesn't get any less creepy during the day so we might as well get this over with," she replied, as she used her magic to enter the vault. Since she was a blood relative, none of the protections her mother had on the vault hurt her or kept her out. Regina looked around, feeling the memories flood her mind. The way the wall full of small compartments breathed still sent chills down her spine. She peered into the potions cabinet and remembered watching her mother perform spells from behind the furniture in her den. She thought it was exciting at the time and long before she realized that all the things her mother did in that den would probably hurt people.

"Love...if you're not ready for this, we can wait," he said, as she was brought back to reality.

"No...the people that my mother took these from deserve to have them back," Regina said.

"It's a larger undertaking than I thought. She took so many," he mentioned.

"And she didn't bother to label them. Why would she? She never intended to return them. This is going to be harder than I thought," she said.

"Is there a way to identify who they might belong to?" he asked. She nodded.

"Yes, but it will require bringing each person here. So, first thing in the morning, we'll bring Graham here and find which heart is his," she said.

"And then we can summon anyone else that she stole from. She's gone, so there should be no fear in coming forward," she added. He smiled.

"That will at least be some of Cora's wrongs set right," he agreed, as they shared a kiss.

"Let's go home," he suggested, as they joined hands and left the vault and its contents behind for the night.

~*~

"And that's pretty much the story," Tink said, as she finished telling him.

"But you knew that...you're the author," she reminded him. He smiled.

"I know...doesn't mean I didn't want to hear about it directly from you," he mentioned.

"I guess my Mom and David aren't the only people Blue screwed over," he said bitterly.

"She's the worst," Tink agreed.

"I can't believe she stole your wings. We should make her give them back," he said, but the blonde shook her head.

"No...it's okay. I'm okay not being a fairy anymore. I made peace with it," she replied.

"So...now that the curse is broken, do you think Pan will mobilize his minions?" August asked.

"He'll try...but to be honest, not even I know what he's after here in Storybrooke other than the magic of some kind," she replied.

"Yeah…I guess we'll have to ask Gold tomorrow. He might know more. Until then...do you wanna get a drink?" he asked. She smiled, as they stopped in front of the Rabbit Hole.

"A seedy tavern…" she said.

"You certainly know the way to this girl's heart, though I'm pretty sure I can drink you under the table," she warned. He chuckled.

"I'm sure you can," he agreed, as they went inside.

~*~

A few hours later, the loft was dark and silent, as Snow and Charming slept soundly, spooned together after their blissful coupling earlier. A soft rapping though pulled Snow from her sleep and she gently sat up, covering her unclothed body with the sheet. She smiled fondly at her sleeping husband and gently traced a finger along the side of his handsome face. But then she heard the rapping again and got out of bed quietly. She found her robe and put it on, before tying it and hurrying to the door. She thought maybe it was August and he had forgotten his key or something, but she was shocked to find Geppetto was behind it.

"Geppetto…" she uttered in surprise, as she tucked the top of her robe a little tighter. Snow was never one for most of the rules or pomp that came with being a royal. After all, she and Charming regularly broke the appropriate etiquette against public displays of affection and she had tossed away all tradition when she married her beloved shepherd. But still...it was highly inappropriate of Geppetto to confront her in what was essentially her bed chambers in the middle of the night. She was still a Princess and believed she deserved her privacy, especially with her husband. Even by Land Without Magic rules, he was being inappropriate, but by the stern look on his face, it seemed that all pleasantries were lost on him.

"I believe we should talk," he said.

"Perhaps...but I don't think it's necessary to do so at two-thirty in the morning," she replied, but he pushed passed her without invitation.

"Please...come right in," she muttered sarcastically, before closing the door.

"I am sorry, but I need to see my son. I cannot wait until morning, because he will not answer my calls," the woodcarver stressed.

"August isn't here…" she replied. He looked at her in surprise.

"Not here? Why is he not here? Like you said, it's two-thirty in the morning?!" he hissed.

"August is a grown man. He's twenty-seven years old and if he chooses to spend his evenings with someone special, then I will neither object or interfere," Snow responded sternly.

"He should have come home with me!" Geppetto cried.

"August is an adult...it has to be his choice," she replied.

"Then you have to convince him to talk to me!" he insisted.

"I have encouraged him to forgive you, but he has to work out his grievances on his own. I can't force him. But I know my son…" she said, but he cut her off.

"He is my boy!" he said hotly and she recoiled.

"He is my boy…" he lamented sadly.

"He is also my son…" she said sternly.

"And I know August…" she said, but was interrupted again.

"Pinocchio! His name is Pinocchio!" Geppetto insisted.

"No...his name is August and I am his mother. I know that's hard for you...but you have no idea what we've both been through. The world out there...it was no picnic," Snow said sharply.

"And I am grateful that my boy had you. But now it is time that he come back where he belongs," Geppetto replied.

"Except that it doesn't work like that. I am his mother now and I can't just let him go, nor will I. August will come around on his own and I know him...he'll forgive you, but not if you tell him he has to push away the only family he knows just to be with you," Snow admonished.

"We can all be a family though. You'd be more than welcome to join us at meals and get to know August again," she offered.

"This is not how it's supposed to be!" he said in frustration.

"I'm sorry...but August was always going to grow up. You must have known that when you put him through the wardrobe," Snow replied.

"But I did not expect you to turn him against me!" he accused.

"I did not turn him against you!" she insisted.

"He wants nothing to do with me!" he snapped.

"You just have to give him time," Snow said.

"That's easy for you to say! You've had him for twenty-years!" Geppetto replied.

"You keep saying you are his mother...but you are not! You were to care for him for me and then give him back!" he ranted irrationally.

"If you raise your voice to my wife once more, you will not like where it takes you," David's voice interjected and Geppetto looked up to see the very stern stare of Prince Charming glaring daggers at him.

"I trusted you to raise my boy…" the old wood carver fretted, as David gently put his arms around her.

"And she did and she raised him into a wonderful, loving man. You should be thanking her profusely that she was there for your son and he wasn't alone," David defended.

"And I am! But now I am here and he does not want me! You told your daughter all about her father...yet you told mine nothing of his!" Geppetto accused.

"That isn't true! I told him how much you loved him and that you did what you did, because you were scared for him," Snow insisted.

"Yet your daughter got stories about her father's heroics," he countered.

"My daughter got stories of the truth and so did my son," she retorted.

"You betrayed me," Geppetto accused.

"She betrayed you!?" David growled.

"Did you seriously just say that!?" the prince cried.

"You lied to us! But we love August and we are more than willing to forgive that, because we know you did what you did out of fear to protect your child! But how dare you accuse my wife of betraying you!" he hissed.

"She would have been your Queen...how dare you stand there and cast aspersions on her," he spat.

"Get out of our house," David demanded. Geppetto wisely backpedaled and exited their home. Snow broke down in tears once he was gone and turned in his arms, as he pillowed her against his chest. He pressed a kiss to her hair and stroked her back. He was seething, but he pushed his own anger away and focused on comforting her.

"Mom? Dad?" Emma called from the top of the stairs, as she padded down with little David in her arms.

"Oh honey...I'm sorry, did we wake him?" she asked.

"No...pretty sure it was the jerk that barged in here in the middle of the night," Emma answered.

"Yeah...he won't be doing that again if he knows what's good for him," David said.

"Yeah…August is going to be pissed," Emma mentioned. Snow sniffed.

"Maybe we shouldn't tell him...I don't want to make things worse between him and Geppetto," she lamented.

"Geppetto did that...not you, Mom," Emma admonished.

"And like it or not, you're his Mom and he's my brother. He's going to have to accept that if he ever wants a relationship with August," she added. David kissed her hair again.

"She's right," he agreed.

"Nana?" little David cooed.

"See...even the kid agrees that you're the best," Emma said. David smiled, as they hugged her between them. Snow sniffed and looked at her family fondly. All the hardships she had endured were suddenly worth it just for that moment.

"I'll make us some cocoa and then we can all try to go back to sleep," David said, as he kissed her tenderly and went to the kitchen. Snow watched him fondly and then cuddled on the couch with her daughter and grandson.

~*~

Neal rubbed his tired eyes and padded downstairs to the kitchen and was surprised to see Belle up and making tea in her robe.

"Oh…I didn't know anyone was up," he said awkwardly. She smiled.

"That's okay...would you like some tea?" she asked.

"Sure…" he replied, as he sat down at the table.

"Where's dad? I mean, of anyone that should be up, it's usually him," he replied.

"He is...he's down in the basement," she replied.

"In the potions lab," he muttered and she nodded.

"So...you and my dad? How did that happen?" he asked bluntly. She smiled.

"Well…it started with me as his prisoner," she replied.

"Of course it did," he deadpanned.

"But...you know, then I started to see that there was more than just the beast on the surface. Cora kidnapped me though, before we could really explore our feelings and let him think I was dead," she explained.

"Yeah…I think she is one person that no one is going to blame if they want to dance on her grave," he quipped. Belle snorted.

"No argument there," she agreed, as his phone chimed and he checked it.

Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Uh yeah...just Emma. I guess Geppetto showed up accusing Snow of turning August against him. David threw him out," he mentioned.

"That awful," Belle said.

"The wood carver has no place in August's life anymore," Rumple mentioned, as he came upstairs.

"He's mostly harmless though, right?" Belle asked.

"On his own yes...but with the Blue Fairy on his side, don't be so sure," he replied pointedly. Neal knew his father hated the Blue Fairy and never really knew why. But Emma's family was his too and that included August. If she was a danger to them...then Neal would definitely be keeping an eye on them both...

[precuredaily]

Precure Day 151

Episode: Yes! Precure 5 03 - “Who’s the Precure of Effervescence?” Date watched: 3 October 2019 Original air date: 18 February 2007 Screenshots: https://imgur.com/a/wUrfDcF Project info and master list of posts: http://tinyurl.com/PCDabout

If you like drinking games, watch this episode and take a shot every time they say the word “effervescent” or variations and report back to me. Cure Lemonade’s title and role call describe her as “はじける” (hajikeru) which every translator to ever touch this show has seemed to agree translates best as “effervescent”, an uncommon word which can either mean bubbly (in the context of beverages) or lively and appealing, when talking about people. To reinforce my point, here’s every English sub I could get my hands on:

First off, here is the Arienai fansub from around 2007, the first ones to ever translate this episode to English and thus establish the use of the word “effervescent.”

Following Arienai’s disbandment, in 2009 TV-Nihon took up the task of subbing and I know from talking with him that their translator was very aware of the Areinai sub, and also pretty new to translating, so he probably took heavy inspiration from their choice.

Lastly, here is the version used by Pretty Cure Splash Subs in 2014, although they admit that they took the Arienai scripts for the earlier episodes and just tweaked them a tad.

Amusingly, “bubbly” in the sense of personality is a pretty good synonym. I can only assume that they keep coming back to “effervescent” because within the narrative, Nozomi and Rin are confused when Coco tells them there’s a Precure of “hajikeru” so they chose a less common word to convey that better. It feels a little clunky to read but what can you do. Anyway, enough about one word, what’s this episode about?

The Plot

Urara is auditioning for a show and the interviewers quiz her about her school life, since she seems upbeat. She’s unwilling to admit that she spends most of her time at school alone, and she can’t talk about seeing two upperclassmen turn into Precure, so she lies and says everything is great.

At school, Rin catches a Pinky with Coco, this time using a trumpet. He then explains that the two of them are the cures of hope and passion, and they still need to find the cures of intelligence, tranquility, and effervescence. (1 shot!) 

Over in Nightmare Corporate HQ, Bunbee tells Girinma he’s not performing up to standards, so he bring in the next consultant, a portly man named Gamao.

After school, Nozomi takes Coco home with her as a fairy, gives him a cream puff (the signature food of this show) and turns on the television. When her dad sits up from sleeping on the couch she quickly tries to hide Coco and distract her dad by pointing out Urara on the TV, saying she knows her.

The next day during lunch, Nozomi and Rin see Urara sitting alone and goes over to talk to her, saying she can ask them anything. So, Urara comes right out and asks what Precure is, causing the two girls to fumble for an answer before running off when the bell rings for the end of lunch. However, Nozomi comes back to retrieve her left-behind bento and decides to skip class and take Urara on a tour of the school grounds. When Rin and Coco find out about this they’re upset and they run off to find her, but Urara seems to be having a great time with Nozomi.

They get to the auditorium and Urara comments that she will stand on that stage someday! At this point, Nozomi declares that the two of them are good friends and reveals that she is a Pretty Cure, and don’t tell Rin. Well of course who should barge into the theater at that moment than Rin, with Coco on her heels, angry at Nozomi for cutting class and generally being a bad influence on the underclassman. But before Rin and Coco can properly chew her out, Gamao reveals himself and demands that they hand over the Dream Collet. Nozomi and Rin transform, urging Urara to run away, which she hesitates to do. Eventually she gets out, but she trips in the hallway, and after some introspection, decides to turn around and run back to help the two girls who protected her. Her strong feelings summon a yellow butterfly, allowing her to transform into Cure Lemonade! She unleashes her special attack, Precure Lemonade Flash, which takes the form of a flock of butterflies divebombing the Kowaina, freeing Dream and Rouge and allowing them to defeat the monster. Gamao runs off, complaining that he won’t get paid for this, and the auditorium resets to normal.

Outside, the girls remark that Urara is the perfect fit for the Cure of Effervescence, and Coco says he’ll fill her in on all the details after she and Nozomi serve detention for skipping class. However, the episode ends on a happy note, as the three new friends agree to work together from now on.

The Analysis

What I like about these shows with a larger roster of Cures is that it allows each girl to have their own reason for fighting. While all three girls so far have done it to protect someone, the motivation behind that protection has varied. Nozomi wants to help Coco revive his homeland. Rin wants to protect her oldest friend, Nozomi. Urara wants to save her newest friends, especially Nozomi, who saw that she was lonely and made it a point to spend time with her. Becoming a Precure ties directly into a personal problem in each of their lives, and that’s..... magical.

Urara in particular may hit close to home for some people, because achieving your dream can sometimes isolate you. Since Urara was always rehearsing or going to auditions, she didn’t have the time to make friends at school, and she was hurting for it. Nozomi was the first person to take notice of her, beyond simply being a celebrity. Nozomi saw a new student who seemed kinda lonely, and decided to show her a good time. The fact that she’s an aspiring celebrity is a side note for Nozomi, a cool thing to tell her parents, but it’s not why she approached her. They clicked in their first meeting and Nozomi decided she’d make a good friend. Then, when they were friends, Nozomi decided to tell her about Precure and their fight against Nightmare. Sure, it’s partly because Nozomi has little filter, but also she saw someone she could confide in. Unlike the other three members of the team, she didn’t pick out Urara as a good candidate to be a cure, Urara earned her spot purely of her own will. She literally ran away from the fight, but her concern for the others and desire to face her fears brought her back.

There’s a recurring trope in the team-building shows that I don’t like, though, which is that the existing heroines somehow find themselves conveniently disabled or unable to fight, making room for the new girl to swoop in, transform for the first time, and save the day. In the two-girl shows, if both of them got tied up, they had to use their wits to escape. I don’t mind it happening once or twice but it seems to be the only way the writers ever know how to introduce a new character is by making the other ones into jobbers.

On the villain side of things, we get to see a little more of Nightmare, which is always fun. Their HQ is a giant office building with devil horns!

You kind of have to wonder if this is just in the middle of downtown or if the other buildings are all in some ~evil dimension~. Also, we find out what happens to under-performers at Nightmare.... they get dropped down a shaft. Seems like kind of a hostile work environment but it’s great for setting the tone.

While I’m discussing Nightmare, let’s talk about Gamao in particular. Gama means “toad”, which is why Gamao is a toad. SHOCKING. Anyway, unlike the go-getter Girinma, Gamao is very simple-minded: he wants to get the Dream Collet so he can get paid, and isn’t interested in wasting time laying traps or listening to the girls’ life stories. He’s portrayed as a very portly man, looking kind of sloppy in his human form, not at all up to the normal appearance standards of a corporation. he wears cargo shorts, a t-shirt (it actually has a giant T on it), and an unbuttoned button-down shirt. Everybody else in the company wears a suit. Nightmare must be pretty desperate for employees if they let him work for them. Also, we now have a bee, a mantis, and a wasp, so let’s lay out the motif of Nightmare. All of them are animals that prey on butterflies, which of course are the motif of the cures. It’s a very clever pattern that I hadn’t even noticed until it was pointed out to me the other day.

This episode shows us very clearly what Karen must have seen during the first episode, when the auditorium magically restores itself after the battle. (check the gallery) It’s never explained how this happens in most shows, but it’s a constant so at least they allude to it. Indeed, their battle does not go entirely unnoticed this time, since even though they’re indoors, the commotion of the fight causes the students in Karen and Komachi’s class to turn their heads and wonder what’s going on. Karen is going to check it out, but Komachi stops her because they’re in the middle of class. I really like how proactive they are in trying to solve the mystery and very soon their time will come.

I think that about does it for my thoughts this time. Next time, what’s that minty smell? Look forward to it!

Pink Precure Catchphrase Count: 1 kettei!

[modreduscycle]

Uther and Merlin Pt. 8

Aka The Final Battle or JESUS CHRIST, UTHER!

The secondary title there is really not a joke. Uther + Vortigern = Nothing good. Warning for violence, death, and a bit of torture.

“Come out and fight, Vortigern!” Aurelius yelled, Merlin using magic to amplify his voice so it echoed up to the castle towers. “Face the consequences of your actions! Face your own karma as if you actually had honor!”

Damn, if Merlin didn’t know better, he would’ve thought Aurelius had actually gotten more than four hours of sleep last night with a speech like that.

Beside him, Uther bounced on his heels impatiently, clad entirely in armor. Merlin just stared in fear and wonder at the grand city of Camelot. Vortigern presumably hadn’t taken good care of it, for the stories of grandeur Aurelius and Uther had told him were vastly different than the run down, spike-laden walls he saw now, but the majesty was still there. With a little work, it wouldn’t take much to restore it to its former glory. That is, if they survived the day. It had taken so long to get to this point, so many deaths, but now, the final battle was at their feet.

The response to Aurelius’s challenge was a barrage of arrows, which Merlin had to guard against as the army rushed forward, with battering rams and weapons and fury. Even though he knew it was all in his head, the stench of fresh blood already filled his nostrils, making him gag.

A hand grabbed his and started to pull him toward the fighting. He looked up with wide, scared eyes into excited blue ones. “Come on! It’s finally time!” The expression on Uther’s face was almost manic, to the point where Merlin felt a little relief when he turned around to see where he was running to. That feeling managed to scare him more than the battle, if he was being honest.

It didn’t take long to break down the gates. Vortigern’s forces were scattered across the land, dealing with peasant revolts as the common folk realized that the time had come where they didn’t have to deal with his shit anymore. The ones that were here had been consolidated inside the city rather than meeting Aurelius’s forces on a proper battlefield, thus putting the populous at risk. Aurelius had given the order that no civilians were to be harmed, but in the heat of battle, such an order could be hard to follow, or ignored by some completely. Merlin trusted that Ulfius would obey, and he hoped Uther would as well, but honestly, he wasn’t entirely sure. Uther could get a little ruthless in combat.

Case in point, Merlin thought as a splatter of blood coated his front as Uther decapitated an enemy soldier. The manic laughing of the prince rang out across the screams and anguished final yells as soldiers fell to the ground, dead seconds after their bodies hit the dirt. The dust that was kicked up in the chaos seemed to have a slight red hue to it and so many awful smells surrounded the fighting. Rank sweat, metallic blood, grainy dust swirled around the air, stabbing into his nostrils, pooling into his lungs, even worse than how he had imagined it.

Uther just kept pulling him along and if it wasn’t for the warmth of his blood-soaked hand, Merlin would’ve broken down, covering his ears, right then and there to drown out all the commotion, all the death, all the destruction.

Anytime a blade lashed out at them, Merlin shielded them from the attack while Uther retaliated. They ran up to the castle, doors shut tight. Uther slammed at it with a closed fist, then turned to Merlin, eyes cold and deadly. “Destroy it.”

For once, Merlin had no objection to this request. Lightning crackling at his fingertips, he held out both hands and let the power flow through him, blasting down the door and sending it rocketing inside. The heavy wood mowed down many guards stationed inside, and the rest were quickly taken care of by Uther. His viciousness, his blade slicing through the enemy, all of it seemed more ruthless, more angry than usual. He was so close, so close to having Vortigern on his knees before him, one of his greatest desires. Merlin knew all of this, but the sight of Uther no longer smiling, his face hardened into something primal, hateful, scared him infinitely more than when the prince had been maniacally laughing while cutting down his enemies.

Uther stormed over and grabbed Merlin’s hand. “Come on, I know where he’d be.” Without waiting, he pulled the wizard behind him, climbing stairs and taking advantage of Merlin’s shields to kill without fear any soldiers that got in their way. Merlin wanted to tell Uther to stop, to let him use some magic to incapacitate rather than decapitate, but something stopped him. He could feel his hands shaking and tried to tell himself he was only afraid of the battle, not his friend. Uther wouldn’t hurt him, Uther would never hurt him. But it didn’t stop the fear from creeping into his veins. He blasted down a door at the top of the staircase when Uther ordered him to, despite wanting his friend to wait and think for a second.

Merlin’s first impression of Vortigern was… anticlimactic. He wasn’t big, muscled, or brawny. He was actually quite thin, as if he hadn’t been eating well. He had bright blond hair, stringy and slightly graying. He didn’t look like a personification of evil, but when he turned to face them, his eyes told a different story. Merlin saw spite, cruelty, cowardice, and everything in him said that this man was a lowdown rat. He smiled when he saw Uther, actually smiled, a crescent-moon shaped lecherous grin, that froze the prince in place. “Is that little Uther all grown up? You and your brother are hard to pin down. And who’s this? A servant? One of your vassals? A friend?”

His voice was surprisingly amicable, throwing Merlin off for a second, but he knew this was all a ruse. No one was this genuinely friendly when faced with the boy whose father they killed and paraded in front of his children. Uther gritted his teeth. “You’re going to die, you son of a bitch.”

Vortigern sighed and shook his head. “I really don’t think I will. Remember? I knew you growing up. I babysat you, and your brother. Aurelius? I suppose he might have it in him to kill me, unarmed and in cold blood, if he had to, but you?” Vortigern shook his head. “You were such a cute kid, running around, catching butterflies, falling into hysterics when you saw a dead bird. It took ages to calm you down and afterward, you insisted on a grand funeral for that little robin.”

He took a fearless step forward and Merlin saw something glinting up his sleeve, but knew Uther didn’t, the prince’s hateful gaze was focused on Vortigern’s face. “Uther, I know you’re a kind boy. You don’t know what hate really is, so I know you can’t, and won’t, kill—” He was cut off mid-word by Uther’s sword running through his chest, a little off from his heart or lungs. The dagger hidden up his sleeve clattered to the floor and Uther only showed a little surprise by its existence.

“Let me explain something to you.” Uther’s voice was cold as he shoved Vortigern to the floor. “You don’t know me. You knew what I was like, but you don’t know how much I want to make you suffer, and how little I give a shit about whether it is ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ to end your pathetic existence. I know you can’t see the literal wagonload of corpses I created to get up here, but know they’re there, so believe me, I’m absolutely killing you, and I’m absolutely making it painful.”

Vortigern was gasping on the floor, holding the stab wound with one hand and shaking, staring up at Uther with wide eyes, shock and fear in them. Uther smiled, then stomped on his twitching hand with an armored boot. The crunch resounded throughout the room and made Merlin cover his ears just in time for Vortigern’s anguished scream to come bursting out of the man’s lungs. The smile on the prince’s face widened, and he proceeded to do the same thing with the other hand, only this time he dug in with his heel for a few seconds, grinding the bones.

“You killed my father. You murdered my mother. You have tried to kill my brother and me for basically our entire. Goddamned. Lives.” As Uther spoke, he callously and oh-so-casually stepped on Vortigern’s wrist, at one point standing on just that foot, then twirled his sword around in a circle. “You really think I give a single shit about your life, other than how painfully I can end it? Speaking of which, Merlin?” Uther glanced over his shoulder, taking the opportunity to stomp on the other wrist. “Got any suggestions?”

“W- what?” Merlin could hardly believe the man in front of him was the same one who had offered him a home, friends, a purpose only a couple years ago.

“Is it possible to boil someone’s blood in their veins? Rip their muscles apart slowly? Make them vomit up their own digestive tract? Anything along those lines,” Uther asked.

“U- Uther, your father wouldn’t want—” Merlin somehow knew that was the exact wrong thing for Vortigern to say even before Uther reacted. The blue eyes flashed with anger before Uther turned around and impaled his sword directly into Vortigern’s knee. The scream this time was even worse than the others, which only increased in pain and volume as Uther wiggled the blade around, dislodging the kneecap beyond repair.

Shaking with fear, but unable to take any more, Merlin whispered, “Uther.” The prince paid no attention, but simply focused his gaze on the other knee. The world spinning from his own fear, the noise, and all the smells, Merlin managed to find his voice. “Uther!”

“Did you remember something?” asked Uther, only sounding vaguely interested, but more annoyed by the interruption.

“Stop. Just stop. You’ve won, he’s suffered, let him die,” Merlin begged.

Uther rounded on him, hand still on his sword. “Did you forget the shit he’s done to you, too? He gave those psychopathic bastards who would make you into nothing more than a breeding cow more power and permission to do whatever the hell they wanted! Why the hell shouldn’t I take my glorious time making sure every second of the life he has left is agony?”

“It- Uther this is wrong!” Merlin had no idea how else to say it, how else to convince him. How on earth could Uther not understand this? “This is torture for the sake of torture! You’re not getting anything out of this! Let him die!”

“I’m getting a deep sense of euphoria from this,” Uther retorted.

“I- I- I…” The words left Merlin and he quickly found himself unable to speak. Uther turned his attention back to Vortigern and continued in the same vein as he had before. Magic tingled at his fingertips, and before he was even aware of what he had done, Merlin sent out a quick, but powerful shock. The lightning hit Vortigern’s body, unnoticed by Uther, and Vortigern’s scream stopped, his body going limp.

Uther took a step back and spat on the floor. “Weak son of a…” His hands shook and he stormed back over to the corpse, grabbing it angrily as he sheathed his sword. He dragged it over to the balcony and kicked open the doors. Merlin quickly put up a shield around him and followed as Uther threw the body over the railing, holding it by one arm. “Your false king is dead!” he yelled. Somehow, even without Merlin doing anything to amplify his voice, the cry rang out across the city. The sounds of fighting slowed and finally almost stopped entirely. A crowd soon started to gather, staring up at the dead, mutilated body hanging from the balcony. “He’s dead like the dog he is! Long live King Aurelius!”

“Long live King Aurelius!”

“Long live King Aurelius!”

The cry started among only their own soldiers, but soon the common townsfolk took up the cheer, and eventually even many of the enemy soldiers, some probably just in a desperate attempt to save their own hides. Merlin couldn’t see Aurelius from here, but knew he had to hear the oath of fealty ringing up to the heavens.

The war was over.

[flamed-like-anything]

Ineffable plans

Another Fleabag crossover fic that nobody asked for - this time, with Good Omens. 2100 words. Also on ao3.

"So, I, wow," started the priest, who at this point had recovered some of his wits. "So are you here- Is this- Do you have some kind of message for me, or...?"

"A message?" said Crowley, annoyed. "We're not the Microsoft Office paperclip, we don't just pop up with little hints for you every now and then."

It was a blistering day in mid-August and the priest was shuffling around between the pews in his church, trying to find a football that had rolled under a seat, when he was interrupted by a polite cough. In the light of the doorway were standing two men. One was placid-looking and beaming, in an immaculate cream suit with a shock of white hair. The other, serpentine and dark, seemed to be doing some kind of odd jerking movement with his feet, never leaving them on the floor for more than a moment at a time.

"Do excuse me," said the white-haired man politely, "we're looking for the father of this parish?"

"Hi! That's me," replied the priest, stumbling over a kneeler cushion to offer his hand.

"Ah, excellent," he said, shaking his hand warmly. "My name is Aziraphale and this is my fiancé Crowley."

"Lovely to meet you," said Crowley, continuing his strange dance, as though the soles of his shoes were on fire. "I won't shake hands. Bit of a cold, don't want to pass it on."

"Sure, sure," said the priest. "How can I help you both today?"

"Well, we're looking for a place for a wedding, and we do love old churches like this one," started Aziraphale.

"We had a bit of a romantic moment in one once," supplied Crowley. "It was fun, there were Nazis."

"He saved my books," said Aziraphale, with a tender, loving gaze at his partner.

"Oh wow, that sounds very- there were Nazis?"

"Oh, don't worry," said Crowley with a devilish grin, "they've been dealt with."

"Crowley!" his fiancé admonished. "Don't scare the poor man."

"No, no," the priest reassured them. "We don't like Nazis here either."

"Excellent," beamed Aziraphale, spreading his arms to hustle the priest out of the door and onto the pavement. "Let's talk about it over lunch."

"Where were you thinking, angel?" asked Crowley as they all stepped into the road.

"Ooh, well, there's this wonderful-"

A honking noise was the only warning they got before the lorry came barrelling into them.

In a flash, the priest's vision was filled with feathers, some brilliant white and blinding, some glossy, black as pitch. He blinked, and found himself shielded by two pairs of wings as the wind from the passing lorry whooshed around them, blowing up dust and debris from the road. The vehicle had miraculously swerved just at the last second to avoid them.

"Get out of the road!" Crowley shouted at the back of the lorry, with some rather descriptive hand gestures. The couple both shook their feathers a little, and Crowley picked some debris off the front of Aziraphale's lapels for him, examining it with a grimace.

"Do you think they noticed the old-" said Aziraphale, gesturing at his wings.

"They never notice anything, humans," snorted Crowley, picking a crisp packet out of his feathers.

The priest squeaked.

"Ah," said Aziraphale, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "That was the other thing that-"

"Fuck," said the priest, shaken. "I- You-" His eyes were bulging out of his head. The two angels - because that seemed the only logical explanation - both looked rather concerned as he wobbled over to the pavement.

Reverently, he dropped to his knees, head spinning. "He will cover you with his pinions," he breathed, "and under his wings you will find refuge."

"Yes, yes, that sort of thing," said the angel in a soothing voice, pulling him gently to his feet and patting his arm. "Let's get you a nice cup of tea and some lunch, hmm?"

"Do we have to do this?" asked Crowley in an undertone as they steered the mute priest towards a nearby restaurant. "Couldn't we just-"

Aziraphale wrinkled his nose and squirmed a little. "That doesn't seem right."

"But we could just-"

"No," he said more firmly, making up his mind. "We are not starting our marriage by wiping this poor man's memory. It sets a terrible precedent."

"Fine," huffed Crowley, "but if he gets all weird about it, I'm going home."

Luckily, a table for three just happened to become available the moment they walked into the restaurant, and they were soon ensconced in a comfortable booth with a bottle of rather nice Merlot and a pot of tea.

"So, I, wow," started the priest, who at this point had recovered some of his wits. "So are you here- Is this- Do you have some kind of message for me, or...?"

"A message?" said Crowley, annoyed. "We're not the Microsoft Office paperclip, we don't just pop up with little hints for you every now and then."

"Paperclip?" said Aziraphale, bemused. "I'm afraid you've lost me there."

"It's a," Crowley gestured vaguely, "computery thing."

Aziraphale shuddered delicately. "Oh. Well, regardless, no. We're not exactly on... active duty these days."

"Angels can retire?" asked the priest, racking his brain for what he could remember from seminary school. Nothing sprang to mind, but he would be the first to admit that he wasn't at his sharpest at this particular moment.

"Not strictly," said the angel, "but I think Heaven is currently, ah, a little busy with other matters."

"I'm not technically an angel, either," said Crowley, tipping down his sunglasses to reveal his eyes, deep orange with snakelike pupils. "There was a bit of a disciplinary... kerfuffle, and I'm more what you might call your actual demon... type... thing, really."

"So why did you come to my church?" said the priest, taking a large and restorative sip of his wine. "Can you even, how did you cross the threshold?"

"Bit hard on the feet, consecrated ground," agreed Crowley, grinning widely, "but it'll be worth it to see their faces."

"Whose faces?"

"I've had a bit of a bust-up with Hell over this whole Apocalypse fiasco - long story, you don't need to know - but this is going to piss off Beelzebub and the other arseholes to no end."

Aziraphale gave a happy wiggle. "They'll be jolly upset," he agreed. "Gabriel too, the bastard."

Sprawled over his seat, Crowley gave the angel a magnificently adoring look.

"So you really are getting married?" the priest asked, for clarification.

"Oh yes," said Aziraphale.

"And not just out of spite," said Crowley.

"No. Although there is some spite," conceded the angel. "I hope that's not a problem for you."

"I've seen people get married for worse reasons," he said absently. "What did you mean when you said Heaven is busy?"

"Busy playing silly buggers," muttered the demon.

"There was this sort of Apocalypse type thing that we rather, ah, got in the way of a bit - it was all terribly ineffable, you understand - and so they'll probably be off gearing up to do it all over again for a while. They seem to have left us alone, at any rate."

"Is it allowed, the two of you being together?"

"Oh, not at all," said the angel, gripping his fiancé's hand firmly. "They made a terrible fuss."

"I'll note that the Almighty hasn't smited us down, though," observed Crowley. He cocked his head, a little frown wrinkling his brow. "Smited. Smitten. Smoted?"

"Sorry," said the priest, his brain catching up with him. "Did you say that you stopped the Apocalypse?"

"For now, yes."

The priest poured himself another, very large, glass of wine.

"Fuck me. Well, fuck." He took a meditative gulp. "If it comes up again, I'm happy to help, if you need," he offered weakly. He wasn't entirely sure what help, exactly, he could offer, but he could probably do something.

Maybe he could design the uniforms.

"That's very kind of you," said the angel. "You seem like a very nice young man. Are you married?"

"No, not really allowed in the Catholic..." he trailed off, thinking. "Fuck, is any of that true? How does God feel about priests falling in love?"

"It's always difficult to know exactly what the ineffable plan is," hemmed Aziraphale.

The priest frowned. "You can't talk directly to God?"

"Not without being put on hold for hours. It's worse than telephoning the gas company. No, I'm afraid I don't know."

"Probably doesn't give a fuck, to be honest," interjected Crowley. "Compared to our forbidden love, yours is... mildly hinted against."

"Breaking a couple of by-laws, punishable by a fine, kind of thing," supplied Aziraphale.

"Probably not even that! I mean look at us, walking around un-smitten."

"I must protest, Crowley!" said Aziraphale indulgently. "I am entirely smitten." They shared a long, loving look.

The priest, busy having an existential crisis, paid no notice.

"I'm afraid there's really no way to know the Almighty's plan for you," Aziraphale said to him gently, "but that's not so bad, is it? That means you get to decide for yourself."

"Jesus fucking Christ," said the priest, just as the waiter stopped at their table to deliver their food. This being the kind of establishment that insisted on the highest level of discretion and politeness from their staff, he merely raised an eyebrow at the priest's collar and turned away without comment, smiling to himself.

"You don't have to fall in love if you don't want to," the angel continued in a delicate tone, "but equally, if there's someone who..."

The two celestial beings locked eyes with each other again, and Crowley brought Aziraphale's hand to his lips to give it a soft, affectionate kiss.

"Look, it's just not worth putting it off, all right?" said the angel. "Believe me."

The priest hunched down in his chair. "How do you know you've done the right thing?" he said in a small voice.

"Don't ask me about the right thing," said Crowley, "I've been trying to do the opposite for 6,000 years, I couldn't tell you anything about doing the right thing, but I can tell you this: whenever I look at him, all I can see is hope."

Aziraphale visibly melted, cradling Crowley's face in one hand. "And I you, dear boy," he said sincerely, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

After a moment, he turned back to the priest, who was picking at a plate of mussels without enthusiasm, reconsidering his life choices.

"I really don't mean to pry," said Aziraphale hesitantly, "but she's working at that café today, you know."

The priest gave a breathless laugh, shaking his head. "Fucking angels."

"Like I said, I don't like to be too forward, but it really does seem a shame."

Crowley, busily wrapping himself around Aziraphale like ivy, hummed his assent.

Giving a lopsided half-smile, the priest looked down at his hands. "I'm supposed to love one thing."

"Love isn't finite, Father," said the angel patiently. "When you find someone you love... you fall in love with the whole world, through them. There's enough to go around."

"Best to be on the safe side, though." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Don't want to mess up any divine plans."

"Listen," said Crowley, taking an interest. "How about this - you go ahead and get this girl and be happy, and if we see any divine wrath headed your way we'll just sort of... head it off at the pass."

"Yes!" beamed Aziraphale, bouncing in his seat. "We'll keep an eye out for locusts and hellfire and so forth, then you won't have to worry."

"Provided you agree to do our wedding, of course," added the demon with a cocked eyebrow.

"That seems fair," said the priest. "Fuck. OK." He let out a huff of air. He fought the urge to giggle, feeling infinite promise crackling around the edge of his vision. Maybe this could work. It was a celestial being-approved plan. "OK."

"If you start running now, you could get to her in ten minutes," said Crowley casually, pouring himself another drink.

"Fuck," said the priest again, for good measure, and drained his glass. "Right, fuck it." He bounded to his feet and sprinted for the door.

"You could have offered him a lift, you scoundrel," he heard Aziraphale saying to Crowley, but he didn't have space in his brain to think about it.

A few minutes later, he arrived at the door to Hillary's out of breath, dishevelled and panting, sweat beading on his forehead in the midday sun. Pushing open the door, he burst ungracefully into the room and stopped short.

She was standing at the counter, looking alarmed, amused, and pleased in equal measures.

"I-" he started, then stopped. With a couple of strides, he crossed the room and took her face in his hands.

"I have had the weirdest fucking day," he said, and kissed her.