#not buying anything from Tarte for a long while

[z3rinn]

# #. GROCERY STORE !!

featuring : heartslaybul - octavinelle ! going grocery shopping is usually a mundane task, boring and usual. that is until the twst boys want to join you in your outing. you just hoped nothing would go wrong this time… for once… pt.2 !!

and can I just say- OMG TYSM FOR LIKING MY WORK??? LIKE AKSHHDJAJUW???? I LITERALLY HAVE NO WORDSS

# #. RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

Taking Riddle out grocery shopping is like taking a very well-behaved child out. He never strays away from you or the cart, and is oddly silent the entire time. However if you look closely you can see a small smile on his face.

He's never been to a grocery store before, due to his mom usually keeping him inside the house and getting them herself. So he can't help but be fascinated by the variety of things and contents of whatevers in the store. He definitely makes sure that no funny business goes on within the store though, he makes sure that everything he does is in order- it's kind of funny how stiff he is in a grocery store.

While out with Riddle, he will absolutely go to the mini bakery, inspecting the cakes, tarts, breads, and cookies. The aroma is enough to put a smile on his face. He probably picks up some ingredients for Trey too, and maybe for himself, if you'd like to help him in creating a tart that it?

10/10 he's so cute the entire trip and pays for you!! Consider it his gratitude for the strawberry tart you bought !

# #. TREY CLOVER

Trey probably needs to pick up some baking supplies while out with you, meaning that the two of you spend a lot of time in the baking aisle or in the mini bakery of the store. It gives him some inspiration when seeing all the different types of sweets and goodies around, perhaps he should bake some of them for you!!

Trey is always helpful, and it applies even more so at the grocery store. He helps store workers, random costumers, you. He tries the best he can, either by helping pick up grocery bags, or by carrying the slightly heavier stuff for you. Trey also walks around with the cart, going through aisle and aisle with you, never once complaining about being there for too long.

With him you don't really have to worry about anything either, he makes sure that you get everything on your checklist and that you don't buy unnecessary or unimportant items. It's kind of like going with a parental figure- or someone really calming.

10/10, man's bakes you a whole plethora of sweets- and going with him is one of the most calming trips ever.

# #. CATER DIAMOND

Cater makes Grocery shopping an experience. You know those pictures of people in carts? Or the ones where you're standing in an aisle doing something stupid? Yeah that's him, one hundred percent.

It's always so fun to go out with him though, no matter what kind if shenanigans you get into. He for sure buys a few spicy instant Ramen packs while out, actually he just buys a bunch of spicy stuff in general- not that you're complaining of course. Maybe he'll even buy some actual ingredients to try and recreate his favorite recipes with you!!

Cater tries to help out as best as he can too, by helping out with checkout or carrying certain things! He also has a nack at finding pretty- or the most appealing looking foods- due to his magicam, he knows how to get good angles and can find some of the best quality foods there is. The pictures he takes can make that one package of strawberries look like the most delectable thing ever.

8/10 he's a fun guy to go Grocery shopping with!! And you get to make Ramen with him once you get back home!

# #. ACE TRAPPOLA

As a contrast to Riddle- Ace is a big baby when going out Grocery shopping. He walks behind you, trying to annoy you in every possible way ever.

He purposely walks in front of the cart when you're about to move, has a grumpy face when being in the healthy section for too long, grabs a buttload of junk food- you don't mind but he'll share none of it with you. He does all of this with an annoying little smirk on his pretty boy face.

Although shopping with him has its downsides, he knows how to make it fun for you. He's the type to sometimes hijack and blast music into the store's speakers, dragging you along with him for a dance. He makes you sit in the carts basket, running around the store while pushing you. Does it make up for not sharing his snacks with you? Maybe. That cute smile on his face certainly does though !!

He's an annoying little shit but I love him for that. 6/10 just cause he's a stinky butt head <3 Oh and he does end up sharing his snacks in the end!

# #. DEUCE SPADE

Deuce is one of the best people to go shopping with. He trails behind you, only ever walking off when he needs to get something. He probably knows this grocery store like the back of his hand even though he's only been there like once.

Deuce knows the best deals to get as well, going grocery shopping with his mom definitely helped out a bunch. He knows what to do during a sale- running and squeezing through crowds of middle aged women to get that last carton of eggs. Think of miyamura from horimiya!!

He carries the bags back to the car, no matter how much or how heavy. Deuce also tries to split the bill with you, there's something so domestic about it, and he absolutely loves it. He always has a smile on his face whenever shopping, especially when it's with his favorite prefect!! Honestly Deuce's perfect date is probably going grocery shopping then riding off into the sunset on his blastcycle.

10/10 he's a very helpful and reliable man, its cute. He's cute. And with him you'll never forget your eggs.

# #. LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

I don't know what possessed Leona to want to go Grocery shopping with you and not just make you or Ruggie do it for him, but let's say he goes because he needs something.

He walks quietly next to you, looking out for what he needs while walking through the aisles. Unfortunately, after he gets whatever he needs he's a total asshole. He complains about being there for too long, and how he'd much rather be napping then in a store.

It's confusing because it was his car that you took here- he could easily just go sleep in it- or straight up leave if he wanted. Well I guess he was being nice enough to not just leave you in the dust. You wouldn't be surprised if he just randomly decided to lean on you whilst you walk, or he might knock stuff over and over for you to keep picking up. He's quite literally a cat.

4/10 he's another annoying shit- but its not so bad cause he's hot. Well at least he pays for you- right?

# #. RUGGIE BUCCHI

Ruggie is probably tagging along with you because he needs to get something for Leona. And he has to be one of the greatest shopping companions to have graced this world. He points out some of the best products that are also cheap, and knows how to get good deals and haggle with store owners.

Like Ace, he also makes the trip fun, well for him at least. Ruggie's idea of fun definitely contains snatching some wallets or free food while out. If you're at Costco he will take more samples than humanly possible. It's pretty funny- if you forget about the snatching wallets part.

Ruggie will also pay for you- using Leona's wallet!! He tells you over and over that Leona wouldn't even notice your purchase of groceries- no mater you end up getting. The hyena also knows how to get the good stuff for cheap, real cheap. It's honestly kind of a life saver to go shopping with him- he helps with everything.

8/10- he somehow can haggle a grocery store worker so you get everything for cheap- although you wished he wouldn't swipe wallets when with you--

# #. JACK HOWL

Jack is the Grocery man. He probably asked to join you just because he wanted to help out, no hidden motives or questions asked. He's so helpful it's honestly so sweet.

It's kind of funny to see a big beefy wolf man dragging around a grocery cart with a happy smile on his face. Honestly he just loves grocery shopping, its so him. He gets all the healthy stuff and protien shakes that'll help out with both of your bodies, he makes sure to leave room for some junk food in the cart though. Jack always helps out with the heavy stuff too, he carries the water cartons, soda, the eight cat trees you got just for Grim- It's like a mini workout for him!!

I can imagine him rushing when at self checkout, he's scanning those tomatoes like it's an Olympic sport. Oh- and he always gets some cactus seeds just in case !!

9/10 helpful wolf man for the win !!

# #. AZUL ASHENGROTTO

It's honestly so confusing why Azul would want to go Grocery shopping with you, did he want to start a farmers market or something?? You doubted he had anything to gain from it either. Like- who goes Grocery Shopping for a scheme??? Azul.

Other than thinking he's gonna do something behind your back while walking around the store, he's a pleasant companion! He basically just sticks to himself the whole time, pointing out things he finds interesting, or things he'd never seen before while in the sea. He's very fascinated by the variety of human items and stuff in just one store. Azul does try to be helpful sometimes, like picking out things that would benefit you both for the right price. Something tells you that if he ran his own grocery store everything in it would be way too overpriced--

He has to be scheming though, you can see him mumbling to himself while looking at the pricetags for certain items, and that gleam in his glasses isn't helping clear him of that suspicion one bit.

6/10 he's honestly not that bad- but you just know for a fact he's plotting something behind your back.

# #. JADE LEECH

Jade joins you on your endeavors to try and learn more about the surface. Of course, they have grocery stores down in the sea, but the things they carry are far more different from the things up here. He finds this a learning experience, like many other things.

Jade is they type to like a flea market the most, or an outdoor one at that. Being outside while shopping with the perfect is probably one of his favorite pastimes. He- like Azul- is pretty silent the entire time. He just enjoys being out in nature while exploring the vast marketplace!! If you're out at a flea market he might also try and haggle with the prices, well he wouldn't try- they'd just give it to him for cheaper because of his face.

He probably buys the two of you a bunch of mushroom including foods, and he probably buys some mushrooms just for himself. Perhaps they two of you can make some foods including them later, yes? That would certainly be a fun experience!

8/10 a very relaxing experience- a lot different from the others, but it's not like your complaining!

# #. FLOYD LEECH

Floyd either tries to squeeze into the baby seats of a shopping cart or stands on the side of it, towering over like the giant he is, letting you drag him around with a silly little smile on his face.

He puts whatever he wants into the cart, showing off things that you definitely don't need. Matching eel phone charms? He's making you buy it. A gummy candy in the shape of shrimp? Well duh he needs that!!

When not clinging onto the cart he's running around the store like a madman. It's quite scary if you think about it- a 6'1 eel man running around a grocery store, bumping into people without saying sorry. He makes it his mission to scare you. Popping up out of nowhere and shoving stuff into your face? Sounds fun!! Sneaking his head into the aisles you're in and watching you from afar like a creep? That's his favorite pastime!!

5/10 its fun to go out with Floyd- but also a hassle. Be forewarned before you agree to go out with him…

.

Honestly- why did you even say yes to shopping with them in the first place??

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 37

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 34, part 35, part 36

The house is quiet when Dustin wakes up. Which isn’t unusual here. With how big the house is, and how little people lived in it, it was always somewhat quiet. But there were more people here than normal, so he was expecting it to be louder.

They must all still be asleep.

He wanders out of the guest bedroom that he claimed for when he stayed over. Down the hall to the guest bathroom. Hearing the gentle snores from Steve’s bedroom. Letting Dustin know that he’s still there.

Wayne bumps into him when Dustin leaves the bathroom. Softly apologizing before shutting the door. The shower starting to run.

Dustin goes to the kitchen. Thinking he could eat some of the cereal that he likes but his mom doesn’t buy that much. A box of it always in Steve’s pantry.

The kitchen’s not empty when Dustin walks in. Nancy sitting at the island, drinking coffee while reading a book.

“I didn’t know you were still here,” he says. Digging through the pantry to find the cereal.

“Me and Robin stayed over last night.”

Dustin’s used to Nancy being a part of his life. He was his best friend’s sister, after all. But that was like a completely different section. Tied to certain places in his life. This was the different sect of his life. Steve and Robin, until spring break, were one half. The party was the other. Now they seem to be coming together a lot more.

Not that he’s complaining. He likes it when the people he loves get along. Act as one big group instead of tiny separate ones. It takes some getting used to.

Robin comes down the stairs when the cereal in Dustin’s bowl gets soggy. Immediately beelining for the coffee pot and pours herself a cup. Making it to her liking. Not saying anything until half of it’s drained.

“The fact that you look that good this early in the morning should be a crime,” she says toward Nancy’s direction.

Nancy who was completely dressed, hair pulled back with some clips. Carefully composed like she always is. While Robin stands in what Dustin’s sure is one of Steve’s old t-shirts and a pair of shorts with the drawstring taken out. Hair tangled and puffy.

“Not my fault you are the worst morning person.”

The minute those words are said, Wayne comes down the stairs, gets himself a cup of coffee, and immediately walks back out again. Nothing more than a grunt of acknowledgement.

“I can’t be worse than that,” Robin jokes.  

Robin sets her coffee down, going to root around in the pantry before emerging with a pack of strawberry pop-tarts.

“You are not.” Nancy finishes her coffee. Going over to the sink to wash out the mug. “Is Steve still asleep, he’s normally up by now.”

“He was when I left,” Robin mutters over a mouthful of a pop-tart. Too impatient to wait for them both to be toasted. One in the toaster while she eats the other one dry.

Dustin’s stopped questioning why Robin and Steve share a bed sometimes a long time ago. They have some weird friendship that he will never understand.

“I saw him take some migraine pills last night,” she continues. “I think another big one is coming.”

Nancy sighs. “It has been like a month since the last one.”

“Yeah, I just thought it would start getting better again. Like last time.”

“Well last time he wasn’t strangled twice and had to get a blood transfusion.”

Dustin doesn’t always know what’s going on with Steve’s health. Always kept in the dark for longer than he should. Definitely longer than he wants to be. It was something, if he had the direct control over, he would learn about immediately. So he could track it. Know when to chill down and ask someone else for a ride.

But instead, he’s none the wiser about Steve’s migraines. Always missing “the big one” that apparently happens every month. Because no one ever tells him about it until Steve is MIA for a few days. Called off work to sit in his bedroom, alone. No one but Robin coming over to make sure that he doesn’t die.

Which sure, that one makes sense, he guesses. Who else, other than Robin, would do that? Or who would Steve feel comfortable with doing that?

It would just make Dustin feel better if he knew about them. So he wasn’t so out of loop. He wasn’t some dumb kid anymore who saw Steve as this badass figure higher than everyone else. He knew that there were debilitating cracks under the surface. Knows that sometimes, Steve can’t be the one to fight.

And that was ok. Someone else could take the load for a while. Watch over everyone. It didn’t need to just be Steve’s job. It could be someone else’s job for a while.

A door creaks open down the hall. Thuds of crutches echoing through. Before a second door opens and shuts.

Eddie was awake. Out of the hospital. Here. It still didn’t feel real.

Dustin finally gets up to pour the tinted milk down the drain and wash out his bowl. Adding it to the dish rack, but not leaving the kitchen. Waiting to see Eddie. Proof that he’s really here.

A few minutes later, Eddie comes down the hall. Wincing slightly with every step. “Morning,” he says with a grunt. Sliding onto one of the barstools.

“Morning,” Nancy replies. “Can I get you anything?”

“Coffee,” Eddie says almost immediately. “And probably some water, so I can take my meds. Has Wayne been down yet, I’m pretty sure he still has all of them.”

Nancy sets a cup of coffee in front of Eddie. With a small container of sugar and the creamer.

“I can go ask him,” Dustin suggests. Happy to help. Already moving out of the kitchen before anyone can stop him.

Lucky for him, Wayne isn’t hard to find. Halfway down the stairs in different clothes. “You need something?”

“Yeah, Eddie was looking for his meds.”

Wayne nods, turning around and heading back up the stairs. He comes back down with a few brown paper bags, each one with a different slip of paper stapled to the outside. They walk back to the kitchen.

“You need to eat something before you take these,” Wayne cuts to the chase. “Coffee won’t cut it.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. Hands shaking slightly as lifts the mug to his lips. “What do you have?” he asks in the direction of Nancy and Robin.

“Pop-tarts, cereal, I think some bagels, if not that then toast, fancy jams,” Robin rattles off, the list getting longer.

“Some toast is fine.”

Robin nods. Grabbing some bread from the bag on the counter and popping it in the toaster.

Steve finally makes his way downstairs. Dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie. He looks miserable. He bypasses the group of people in his kitchen, heading straight to the cabinet for a glass. Filling it with water and pulling a pill bottle from his pocket.

Robin gets close to him. Bumping her shoulder against his. Steve shakes his head, slowly. She nods and goes to close the kitchen blinds.

Eddie stares at Steve like he isn’t allowed to look. A mix of concern and confusion in his expression. Only interrupted when Nancy slides the plate of toast to him, asking if he wanted anything on it.

“Robin said there were fancy jams?”

Something reminiscent of a scoff comes from Steve. “They’re not that fancy,” he slurs.

Robin snorts. “It’s not generic. Therefore fancy.”

Nancy pulls out a raspberry jam from the fridge. “My family uses the same kind. It’s not fancy.”

Everyone keeps looking over at Steve. Waiting for him to move. He just stands there, white knuckling the countertop. Robin tries to touch his arm, but he shrugs it off.

“Give it a second,” he mutters under his breath.

She nods again. Pulling more bread out of the bag and sticking it in the toaster. The setting lighter than he normally likes it.

The only sound that happens in the next few minutes is the slight crunch of Eddie eating, and the pop of the toaster. Robin gets some butter out of the fridge and puts some on each slice. Careful not to rip through the pieces.

With a deep exhale, Steve turns around. Leaning against the counter behind him and grabbing the plate she hands him. Ripping apart the toast into small bites.

“How’d you sleep?” he asks Eddie.

Eddie looks surprised that he asked him anything. “Good. Much better than a hospital bed. Bigger too, that was nice.”

“Sorry I didn’t have anything better for breakfast. I was planning on making something, but-.” He trails off. The obvious staying unsaid.

“That’s fine. I don’t eat much in the morning’s anyway.”

Steve nods. Placing his plate on the counter. About a half a slice of the toast left. “I won’t be around that much to help you get settled in. I was supposed to close tonight, but I’ll probably end up calling out.”

“If you’re about to apologize for that, don’t.” Eddie stares at Steve with an expression that Dustin can’t quite read. “You don’t have to apologize for things that aren’t your fault.”

Steve pauses. Taking a second to stop himself, reset what he was going to say. “If you need anything, Rob should know where it is. And if not, I’ll just be in my room.”

All Eddie does is reply with a small nod. Then Steve is walking out of the kitchen with Robin in tow.

(i forgot to post yesterday because i got fixated on a new knitting project, no joke i worked on it for like six hours straight)

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[hjparisian]

birthdays through the ages- harry j potter x reader

p: harry j potter x gn!reader w: none just fluff summary: (y/n) helps harry celebrate his birthday throughout the years a/n: disappeared for a hot min and tumblr changes its layout?? anyways dont mind that this is late and long. decided to try second pov again for this story to see how i feel but idk. what do you guys prefer? (y/f/c)= your favorite color

You've been friends with Harry ever since your guys first year at Hogwarts. One day in first year, you, Ron and Harry were talking about birthdays since Ron's twelfth birthday was coming up. Harry had mentioned that he never really received anything, counting that the Dursley's hated his guts.

From that moment on, you decided to make Harry's birthdays the best.

second year

This would be your first year getting something for Harry. You weren't sure what exactly to get him, considering you didn't have much saved from your allowance, also because he was trapped with the Dursley's.

You had decided to make you and Harry matching friendship bracelets with some beads left from an early interest of crafting. You made both bracelets using red and (y/f/c) beads. It was simple, not wanting anything too flashy for Harry incase he actually wears it.

You had also made a card for him and added some candy from a previous trip to Honeydukes. You packed everything off in one bag before sending your owl to deliver the gift.

When you finally met up with Harry at King's Cross Station, your eyes light up as you see the bracelet on the green eyed boy's arm. Harry came up and gave you a hug.

"Thank you, (Y/N)."

third year

This year, you had actually saved up and set aside money to be able to afford a present for Harry. During a trip to Diagon Alley with your parents, you had wandered into a little shop that carried jewelry and charms. As you were ready to give up, something caught your eye.

It was a golden snitch charm.

It was a little on the pricy side for the charm, but you'd still have a bit of money left over. So you bought it. The store owners had given you the option to put an engraving on it, so you did, opting to put Harry's initials on it.

Once you returned home, you decided to bake treacle tarts for him, with the help from your mother. While the treacle tarts were baking, you had gone to your room to make Harry's birthday card, signing it with a heart by your name.

The next morning you had sent your owl to deliver the gifts. When the owl had returned later in the evening, it had a letter in its beak from Harry. It was him thanking you for the presents and making his birthday better, and that he loved the charm and had attached it to his school bag right away.

fourth year

The summer of Harry's fourteenth birthday was a bit wild in your opinion. You would be spending a couple weeks in America with your parents. Unfortunately, this was during Harry's birthday so you couldn't send his presents on his actual birthday.

Fortunately for you though, Ron had invited you to join him and his family to watch the Quidditch World cup. He mentioned that Hermione and Harry would be there as well. You had decided to give Harry his present in person. Your owl is probably thanking you for this genius decision.

While on your trip, you had stopped by a clothing store and spotted a red jumper. You had remembered that Harry didn't really have a lot of clothes of his own, most, if not all, were hand me downs from his cousin Dudley. You had decided to buy it along with a shirt for him.

The night before you had to go to the Weasley's, you were getting Harry's gifts together. But it felt like there was something missing. It need more of a personal touch.

You search your room for something until you came upon a little heart charm with your initial on it. Should you make another bracelet you wonder? A different idea pops into your head though. You grab the red jumper and find thread a similar color to it. Turning the jumper inside out, you take the left sleeve and place the tiny charm under the cuff and sew it in.

You wrapped the gift and set it aside your luggage so you would remember to take it with you. As you finally head to bed, you felt a little giddy about giving Harry his present, hoping he'll love it.

Thankfully, he did.

Harry was in his shared room with Ron, who was asleep. He was looking at gift you gave him and decided to try the jumper on. He felt something in the left sleeve and rolled it up to find the small heart shaped charm with your initial on it.

The boy couldn't help but smile.

fifth year

This was the first year you'd actually be with Harry for his birthday, though this was due to unfortunate circumstances from Harry's side as well as the Order coming back together.

You were brought to 12 Grimmauld Place around the same time as Ron, due to your parents being invited to the Order. Though because of this, you didn't have an opportunity to find a present for Harry, which resorted you to your baking skills you started developing in third year.

After asking Sirius for permission to use the kitchen, you get started on working on Harry's favorite, treacle tart. Things were going pretty well, but then the boy you were making the treat for had entered the kitchen, which you should've been expecting.

"(Y/N)?"

"Oh, hey Harry," you said to him.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"Just baking, what are you doing here?"

"Oh uh, I was looking for you actually," Harry said. "I was just wondering where you were."

You smiled a bit, enjoying the fact that Harry was looking for you.

Harry cleared his throat before speaking. "So, what are you baking?"

Now, should you be honest with him and tell him that you were making something for him? Or lie and push him out?

"Well, I'm making treacle tarts, for you."

"For me?"

"Yes, for you. I was gonna surprise you with them after dinner," you told him.

"Oh," he said. "Guess I ruined the surprise, I'm sorry."

"I suppose you did, but I don't think it matters anyways. You'd still eat them won't you?"

"Of course I will," Harry said. "They're delicious. I still remember when you made them for me for my thirteenth birthday."

You were a little surprised that he remembered that.

"My mom helped me with them," you said. "I've gotten better though. Been able to do it myself." Harry just nods.

"So," You began. "Wanna learn how I make them?"

Harry smiles and gives a nod as you start getting another batch ready so the rest of the occupants of 12 Grimmauld Place could enjoy some. The outcome was a bit messy, but it was enjoyable nonetheless.

Harry likes to think this was one of his better birthdays thanks to you.

sixth year

For Harry's sixteenth birthday, you managed to convince your parents to let you go to the Dursley's house to attempt to take Harry out for his birthday. You side apparated with them to the house and was being given a lecture on being careful and sticking by Harry before they left.

It was a bit awkward when Harry's uncle Vernon had opened the door. You can feel his piercing eyes judging you once you asked for Harry. Lucky for you Harry had appeared right behind Vernon once you asked. It didn't take much convincing to take Harry out, Vernon seeming delighted to be rid of the boy for most of the day.

You and Harry arrived at a cafe for lunch, since both of you hadn't eaten yet. The both of you had ordered your desired meal and chatted about the summer, Harry telling you all about the terribleness of the Dursley's. When it came time to pay, Harry was about to take his wallet until you took the check and handed the money to the waiter.

"You didn't have to pay for me you know?" Harry told you as you exited the cafe.

"Of course I have to!" You said. "It is your birthday after all. So, what do you want to do now?"

The two of you spent the day doing whatever Harry wanted, which felt odd to him considering the Dursley's would always ignore him but he felt some sense of happiness. There was a small arcade in town that you and Harry went to. Harry won most of games but sometimes he'd let you win.

Your guys next stop was to the movies to watch one of the new movies Harry was interested in seeing, but of course, the Dursleys would never take him, especially since their little Duddy-kins hated it. You guys decided to just share a popcorn together. Everytime your guys hand touch, you'd feel your cheeks heat up but you were enjoying the little touches. Little did you know, Harry was feeling the same way.

Your guys final two destinations were the dinner and the park, deciding to kill two birds with one stone by bringing take out to the park and watching the sunset.

"Thank you for everything (Y/N)," Harry said to you.

"Of course Harry. It's your birthday and I wanted you to be able to have the most of it."

"I appreciate it, I really do."

You smiled at him. "I'd do anything for you, Harry."

seventh year

This would be the year Harry would be of age in the Wizarding World. Mrs. Weasley had been planning a party for Harry, considering everyone would be residing in the house for Bill and Fleur's wedding the following day.

Earlier in the summer you had gone to a jewelry store in Diagon Alley. You remember Harry saying he had been wanting some more rings, as he's been wearing a ring Sirius gave him prior to his death.

As you were browsing, one of the clerks had approached you and showed you a special ring, with a twin. It was one that would warm up based on how fast the heart beat of the other ring holder is. You were sold on it, planning to keep the second ring to yourself.

After breakfast the morning of Harry's birthday, you asked him to meet in the room he was staying in privately. Hermione, knowing what was going on, helped by keeping Ron away from the room.

"So what did you brought me up here for?" Harry asked as he closed the door behind you.

You pulled out the small box with the ring from your pocket, handing it to Harry.

"I wanted to give you your present privately. Happy birthday Harry."

Harry took the present from your hands and began to open it. He pulled the ring from the box and examined it. It was a silver band with a small heart engraving on the inside of it. Harry put it on his left middle finger and started to feel a slight warmth from it.

"It's a magical ring. It gets warm based on how fast the other person who has the second ring is." You told him, bringing your hand out showing a similar ring to him. "I have the other one."

"I love it. I really do." Harry told you.

You felt your cheeks heat up. "I'm glad you do."

Whether it be some spurt of confidence or you not thinking, you decided to do something a bit bold and kiss Harry's cheek.

"Let's head back down. Don't want them to wonder why we were taking long," You told him as you grab his hand to pull him out the door.

As you guys head downstairs, the both of you could feel the rings warm up again.

post war

Harry's birthday came too soon to him. Having successfully defeating Voldemort what felt like not too long ago, he had no interest celebrating. Why celebrate when so many of his loved ones died because of him?

You had no intention of pushing Harry to do anything for his birthday, but you still wanted to remind him that it is a special day. You woke up before Harry to prepare him breakfast. As you were finishing up, you heard some foot steps entering the kitchen.

"Love?" a voice said.

"Morning Harry."

"What are you doing up so early? Usually I'd be the one that wakes up first," he says as he comes over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"I was preparing breakfast," you told him as you plate the eggs you made.

"You woke up early for that? I'm always fine with waiting for you to wake up to start making breakfast."

You chuckled a bit. "I did this because it's your birthday Harry. Just wanted to surprise you." A small oh leaves Harry's mouth.

You brought the plates to the table and started pushing Harry to sit down and start eating. Once you finished your plate, you stood up and placed your dishes in the sink.

"Give me a second, I'll be back," you told Harry.

When you entered the room, you went straight to look under the bed, grabbing the box that contained Harry's present. How he didn't find it? Only Merlin knows how. Grabbing it, you went back to table the table and handed it to Harry.

"Happy birthday Harry. Open it."

The boy unwrapped the present, revealing a book with a plain black book. He grabbed it and opened to the first page which had a photo of you and him together back in first year and another with eleven year old Harry and Ron. As Harry turned the pages, he saw that all of them contained memories from their years at Hogwarts. From him catching his first snitch, to the Yule Ball, to one of the Quidditch parties in sixth year. As he got toward the end, he realized there were still empty pages left.

"I know Hogwarts might be the last thing you wanna think about right now. But I thought this would remind you all the good stuff that happened," you said to him. "I left some pages empty so we could continue it together."

"(Y/N), this is wonderful. And you did this yourself? Where did you even get these photos?"

"That's a secret I'll never tell," you winked at him.

Harry stood up to give you a hug, your arms wrapping around his well toned body. Being in his arms felt like home.

"I love you so much," Harry told you.

"I love you too." You said to him. "Now, my dear Harry. What do you think we should do today?"

"In all honesty," he began saying. "I just wanna spend the day with you and cuddle. Maybe make treacle tarts."

"As you wish love," you said, as you play with the two rings on Harry's hand. One was the ring you gave him on his seventeenth birthday, and the other was his engagement ring.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Talking to Older Brothers

This is the next part in Cedric’s adventures in the Astartes Husbandry AU, and specifically the Introducing New Primaris Black Templars arc. For other adventures click here and here. First. Previous. Next.  Thank you very much to @kit-williams for allowing me to borrow her ocs Roland and Arnault and @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for allowing me to borrow her OC Ramiel

Tagged:  @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34

Warnings: mentions of petras, death threats, if there is anything else I need to tag, please tell me!

Summary: After leaving the base, Cedric goes to talk to Roland, then later Arnault.

Cedric only enters the bakery once he’s certain that he isn’t being followed. There is, as he’s expected, a long line of eager mortals inspecting the delicious foods for sale. He deliberately takes in a deep breath through his nose, the mouth-wateringly delicious scents of the lovingly hand-crafted pastries and other baked goods a welcome distraction from the ugly feelings still eating away at his hearts like the most wicked of poisons. He lets out the breath he’d taken slowly, through his mouth, before inhaling through his nose again.

He does this several times, eyes closed as he lets the chatter of mortals wash over him. He’s not listening to any one conversation in particular, but allowing the sounds to help ground him. Cedric opens his eyes as he hears the careful, distinctive footsteps of Roland walking up to him. He’s not surprised that the mortal shop-helper already went off to go get Roland, as he is an Astartes, though a familiar face in this particular bakery. 

“Are you here for baked goods, Cedric? Or have you come to talk to me about something?” Roland asks, looking him over carefully, a considering frown on his face.

“... I need to speak with you, privately. But I did bring money to buy some of the delicious bread.” Cedric answered earnestly. Pallas and Olivar were healed to the point where they were being slowly introduced to baseline foods. There were few things better than the baked goods made by Roland’s Bonded in Cedric’s opinion, and he hoped to get them both a treat…

If he survives the punishment for attacking Chief Apothecary Melinth, he hopes to give them the bread himself. Otherwise, he’s sure that Ramiel will share the bread with them for him. Cedric’s superiors in the base have been distressingly lenient with him so far, but he’s quite certain that has come to an end. But that was a problem for Later Cedric to deal with. 

“Follow me, then, to the back. Do you mind helping me knead the dough? I had to run an errand this morning and we are a bit behind on some of the larger orders that came in while I was away.” Roland asked, gesturing for Cedric to follow him into the back of the bakery. 

“I’d be happy to help.” Cedric answered earnestly. He smiles cheerfully as he sees you working diligently on some kind of fruit filling for the carefully arranged trays of tart-shells, waiting to be filled and finished cooking. “Hallo!” He calls out to you.

“Good afternoon, Cedric. It’s good to see you again. You’ve been pretty busy these past couple of months. New apothecary training?” You ask, giving him a small smile.

Cedric stills for a moment, face solemn “I wish it were something like that. I do apologize for being so absent recently. Things have been… Tumultuous, as of late. It’s what I wanted to talk to Roland about… Arnault as well, though I plan on talking to him later today.”  He goes over to the sink, washing his hand properly before heading over to the kneading table, grabbing one of the balls of dough and starting to work it in his hands. 

Roland washes his hands as well, and joins him in kneading the bread. He asks “What has been going on up at the base?”

Cedric focused on the way the bread dough felt in his hands as he pushed, pulled and folded it for a couple of seconds before answering, making sure not to put too much strength into manipulating the dough, or else it would tear. The repetitive motions and the care with which he needed to manipulate the bread, while also using some of his strength to get the dough to cooperate properly helped him stay calm as he explained, briefly glancing at you before switching over to Gothic “Over the past couple of months, there have been four new arrivals from M42. All four of them have been Primaris Black Templars. All of them badly injured. Two of them died, despite every effort to get them to a point of stability.” 

Cedric felt the bread tear in his hands and his eyes stung. The young apothecary huffed in frustration, shaking his head as he kneaded the dough back together, suppressing a growl of frustration, willing himself to find the calm that he’d very nearly achieved. 

“It’s unusual for an Astartes to die on Terra.” Roland remarked, also in Gothic, so as to not worry you. “Do you know what they plan on doing with the bodies?”

Cedric scowled “It does not matter what they want to do with the bodies up at the base - and I know what the chief apothecary wants to do with them. But since they are Black Templars and I am the highest ranking Apothecary of their chapter that any of them can get ahold of, I get to decide what happens to them. The organs that were salvageable have already been taken-” Damn it, he tore the bread dough again. A frustrated grunt leaves him as he mashes the torn pieces of dough back together, scowling fiercely “-and I intend on having Malachai and Lestras cremated. I will be speaking with local mortals who have facilities to properly burn their bodies, and intend on having their remains burned by the end of the week. Ramiel is getting the necessary supplies for the Rites of Remembrance, and I do have a holy place in mind for the Rites to be performed.”

Cedric put down the thoroughly kneaded dough ball into a loaf-pan, so that it could prove again and then be cooked. He reached for a second dough ball, his hands squeezing into the soft, giving substance. 

“Is this holy place off-base?” Roland asked perceptively as he set the dough ball he’d been working on in its own tin and grabbed another.

“Ja. There is a beautiful baseline church nearby, with stained-glass windows and a bell that rings beautifully when it is rung. One of the Sisters who tends to the spiritual needs of the mortals is bonded to an Astartes.” Cedric explained. He hesitated for a moment, knowing that he should be fully truthful about this particular Cousin, to avoid any potential… Problems “A pre-heresy Word Bearer Chaplain by the name of Lykus. We’ve spoken a couple of times.”

“And here I thought you tried to avoid every chaplain who wasn’t Ramiel for mysterious reasons.” Roland murmured, a teasing smile on his face “I have seen him around, occasionally. He seems a decent sort, and from well before the Fall of his legion.”

“Ramiel and I plan on holding the Rites of Remembrance in that church as soon as he has everything he needs. The two other Primaris Black Templars would be attending as well, though they’ll need assistance to get to the church, as their wounds are extensive and some of them limit their mobility. I was… We were wondering if you wished to attend.” Cedric explained, this new ball of dough tearing in his hands as he asked. The young apothecary wordlessly grumbles in frustration, rolling the two halves back together between his hands before going back to kneading the dough. He can’t quite look at Roland as he waits for the other’s answer.

“I would be honored to attend the Rites of Remembrance, and to meet the newly arrived Brothers as well.” Roland murmured, his voice warm.

Cedric risked peeking over at Roland. Stilling for a moment as he saw the gentle smile on the older Templar’s face. He swallowed hard, grateful beyond words for his response. “I… Thank you. If… If you wished for your bonded to attend, should she wish to, she would be… She would be welcome.”

Roland’s eyes softened a little and he set down the dough ball he’d been kneading, turning to fully face Cedric. He reached out slowly and pulled Cedric in close, hugging him tightly. “I would be honored to attend, and if you would be more comfortable with this event being Astartes only mein bakerin would understand.”

Some of the poisonous wrath in his hearts faded, as his older Brother hugged him. Cedric was careful to put down the dough in his hands so he didn’t accidentally mash it into Roland’s back as he hugged the other back. If he hid his face in the other’s shoulder for a moment or two as even more tears fell from his treacherous eyes…

Well, Roland was kind enough not to mention it, only hugging him tighter still. “Losing brothers is never easy, and grieving for them isn’t a sin, nor is it a sign of weakness.”

“... There is much to do, before I can grieve them. But I will, once they are resting, and my injured Brothers are healed.” Cedric answered quietly, slowly letting go of Roland and turning back to the ask of kneading dough. 

“... Grief does not wait patiently for one to have the time for it.” Roland warned Cedric “If you try to ignore your grief, it will try und consume you from the inside out. Terra is… Terra is a safer place to process these kinds of emotions, difficult though it is.”

“I will keep that in mind, Bruder Roland.” Cedric half-grumbled, though he did accept the older Templar’s word of warning for what it was. “... I need to tell Arnault of the upcoming Rites of Remembrance as well. I sought you out first as the bakery is closer to the base.”

Roland hummed in acknowledgement before asking “Is there anything else that you want to tell me?”

Cedric hesitated for a moment before shaking his head “Not right now, but thank you for listening.” He slowly let go of one of his older brother and started kneading a dough ball, letting out his frustrations on the soon-to-be loaves of bread.

Roland watched him for a long moment before returning to kneading as well “Alright. But if there is something that weighs on your hearts, or you are struggling with something ,you know you can always come to me, and I will help as best as I can.”

Cedric nodded, shifting a little from foot to foot “I will keep that in mind. Thank you, Roland.”

“All is well.” The older Templar responded with a small smile.

Cedric kneaded bread until he felt somewhere close to calm, before washing his hands and saying goodbye to both Roland and his bonded. He was fairly sure that Arnault and his bonded were at home, at this time of day, and planned on stopping by, to see if they’d talk. 

~

The young apothecary made his way over to where Arnault and Angela lived, pausing for a moment when his astartes-sized phone began ringing in his pocket. He paused, stepping to one side of the sidewalk so as to not block foot traffic before pulling the device out of his pocket. The name and number identified the caller as Captain Ash’val.

Cedric silently weighed the pros and cons of answering this phone call as it continued to ring in his hands. On one hand, this could be important, he might being recalled to base because a medical emergency was either happening or inbound and they needed all hands on deck. One of his injured brothers could be reacting poorly to being tended to by firstborn Apothecaries, or had taken a turn for the worse. On the other hand he had snapped at the other in anger, and he had a physical altercation with the chief apothecary of the base… The consequences of that, he knew he was going to be facing shortly after returning to said base. 

Cedric continued to stare at the phone in his hand, paralyzed by indecision. Should he put the phone back into his pocket, pretend that it was on silent, or that he just hadn’t heard it, distracted by the sights and sounds of Gannet Point? Should he face whatever trial this was sure to be now? What should he d-

“Cedric?” Miss Angela called out from behind him, causing the young Black Templar to startle and fumble with his phone. Despite his best efforts, it fell to the ground with a deafening and decidedly bad sounding smack as it  landed screen-first onto the edge of the sidewalk near the road. 

“I.. Uhm. Hello miss Angela!” Cedric managed out, attempting to smile down at the meek baseline human before he quickly knelt and scooped up his now broken phone. Dorn damn it all, today was not at all going the way he’d hoped it would. “I was hoping to speak to you and Arnault, if you are not busy…”

Some of the tension that Miss Angela had been keeping in her shoulders relaxed a little and she responded with “Of course I’d be happy to talk to you. Arnault as well. He got a call from Captain Ash’val not too long ago, actually. He said that something happened at the base and you stormed off, and that no one’s been able to get into contact with you for several hours, since. Arnault, love, Cedric’s over here!” That last sentence she half-shouted.

Arnault materialized out of nowhere, clearly having somehow acquired a teleportation array and the ability to use it effectively. “There you are! Come, we will talk in our home. I’ve heard what Ash’val and Melinth said what happened. I want to hear your side of it. Where have you been?”

Cedric fidgeted feeling guilty for worrying the older Black Templar “I left the base and knew I was being followed, so I shook off the person tailing me and went to the bakery that Roland and his bonded run together and talked to Roland for a while while kneading bread, to help calm down. It… it worked more or less.”

Arnault heaved a sigh at that, shaking his head a little “I am glad that you decided to find a safe way to vent your fury though why did you feel the need to shake off whoever was trying to catch u to you from the base?”

“Because I knew whoever was following me wasn’t one of my fellow Primaris Brothers and I… Don’t know how well I would have reacted to interacting with a fairborn marine who wasn’t a Black Templar in the fury I was in.”

Arnault hummed, nodding a little in understanding “Ja, I get that.”

“The door’s open, love! Once you two are ready to come inside.” Angela called out from the front door of her home before entering.

“Inside, now.” Arnault ordered Cedric, pointing at the door, a stern expression on his face.

“Yes sir.” Cedric responded, obediently doing as he was told as the older Black Templar followed closely behind him.

~

“Do either of you want something to drink?” Angela asked from the kitchen as Cedric and Arnault entered the cozy home. 

“Uhm… Some tea would be nice, if you don’t mind, Miss Angela.” Cedric answered after Arnault stared at him silently for several seconds.

“I’ll have a cup of tea as well, mein Engel.” Arnault called out with a small smile on his face. It faded and he addressed Cedric tersely “You, sit. Couch.”

Cedric barely managed to suppress the instinctual flinch the flat tones and sharp orders from an older brother instinctually provoked. “Yes sir.” he carefully took off his shoes first, putting them in the shoe bin before heading to the aforementioned couch, sitting on the edge of it, anxious. He couldn’t even look at Arnault at all, much less in the eye as he waited for the other to do or say something.

A short but very audible sigh left Arnault as the Emperor’s Champion made his way over to where Cedric was sitting, joining him on the couch. “What I was told by Chief Apothecary Melinth was that he asked you about irregularities that he found in the geneseeds implanted in Malachai and Lestras. In the ensuing argument, you escalated things violently before storming out of the base. Care to explain what happened?”

“Did… Did Apothecary Melinth say why I became violent?” Cedric asked, doing his best to keep his temper in check. Apparently the bread kneading hadn’t been as effective as he’d hoped it would be, as the fury was once more surging to the surface. 

“He did not deign to go into specifics, and I was more focused on finding you before you picked a fight with some renegades or chaos bastards, or were found by them and they needled you into causing a much messier problem. What happened?” Arnault asked. He sounded… Worried? And non-judgmental.

Cedric risked looking directly at Arnault, trying to gauge the other’s emotional state. He looked mildly worried, but otherwise calm.  “He accused me of lying about my origins, and the origins of the other Primaris Marines. That instead of being created by the Mechanicum, we are a group of Bile’s abominations in the shape of Space Marines, meant to infiltrate loyal chapters and weaken them from within.”

“He what?” Arnault growled, a thunderous frown appearing on his face. 

Before the older Templar could say anything else, Angela walked into the living room, carrying three mugs of tea and a couple of plates of fruit and crackers. “Here you go, love, Cedric. I also grabbed a little snack, in case either of you were hungry. Do you want me to stay for this conversation? Or is this something private between brothers?” 

Cedric looked over at Arnault, unsure what the other’s decision about that was going to be. Much of this conversation probably wouldn’t make sense to her, even if they did speak in one of the local languages that she did know, rather than in rapid-fire Gothic. 

Arnault sighed “This conversation is going to be one that won’t make much sense to those who are not Astartes, mein Engel, and there are some things that have been verboten to explain, even to our bonded. I adore having you near me whenever possible, but this is an astartes-only conversation.  I hope you understand.”

“I don’t understand the subject matter, but I will let you talk to your younger brother privately. I’ll be in my sewing room, if you need or want my help or presence.” Angela murmured, a small smile on her face as she walked over and gave Arnault a kiss on the lips before walking off.

“I will always want you near me, unless there is something dangerous going on. Then I will want you to be as safe as possible. Danke schon for understanding, liebling.” Arnault murmured, kissing her back, a loving and affectionate smile on his face. 

Angela nodded and left the room, with Arnault’s gaze lingering on her as she left. Once the sounds of her quiet footsteps could not longer be easily heard, the older Black Templar refocused on the conversation “Is that when you got violent? The presumption that he made that you und your Primaris Brothers were not who you said you were, but infiltrators and saboteurs?”

“No, though I will admit to yelling at him for how incorrect an assumption that was. I became physically violent after he repeatedly crowded into my physical space and attempted to grab me while I was trapped against one of the walls of his office.” Cedric paused for a moment, a slight shiver running down his back at the sheer panic and fury that had been running through him at the time. He continued to confess to Arnault “He tried to either grab or strike me and I responded by ducking his hands and kicking his bad knee out from under him. After that the physical fight continued until I could get to the door to his office and leave. I almost physically bumped into captain Ash’val as I fled the base… And I think I snapped at him, and my words to him were uncalled for and rude. After that I made sure to lose whoever was tracking me from the base and went to go speak to Roland… Though I didn’t tell him about the fight I got into.”

“What did you talk to Roland about?” Arnault prompted, his voice measured and calm.

“There have been four more Primaris who’ve arrived in the past couple of months, all of them fellow Black Templars… And all four of them were badly injured. Two of them are in the medical ward, recovering and going through physical therapy for some of their injuries. The other two…” His voice cracked and broke for a couple of moments. Cedric allowed himself a moment to get his words back before answering, voice quieter and shaking “The other two died. The last one we had a bit of forewarning about his condition and where he was going to appear, because of a vision Jophiel received. Despite all of Chief Apothecary Melinth’s skills, he was unable to save Malachai. Less than twenty-four hours later, both Malachai and Lestras were on surgical tables again, this time led by Melinth and six other high to mid ranking apothecaries of Loyalist, Renegade and Chaos leanings, to study the differences between Firstborn and Primaris Marines.”

Cedric paused for a moment “The newly dead brothers, in addition to the new living ones were what I spoke to Roland about. Along with the fact that Ramiel and I intend to have their Rites of Remembrance held soon, ideally by the end of the week. There is a church in town with beautiful stained-glass windows we intend on holding the Rites there. I have spoken to the Astartes who works there. He’s.” Cedric pauses for a moment, looking over at Arnault “A pre-heresy World Bearer Chaplain, with a bonded who is a Sister. Is… Is that going to be a problem?”

“... Do you know if he is corrupted at all?” Arnault asked, a small frown appearing on his face.

“I’ve talked to him a couple of times and he earnestly believes in the divinity of the god emperor. The fall of his legion distresses him greatly, from what little he’s spoken to me about it.” Cedric reported earnestly. “He shows no signs of corruption, to my knowledge.” Cedric also dutifully informs Arnault the name of the church and it’s address, in case the other wants to look at the church and speak to the chaplain himself first. “Oh! One last thing, if you wish and if she wishes, you may bring your bonded to the Rites of Remembrance.”

“You mentioned that all four of these new Bruders were found injured - Ramiel was also badly injured, upon being found here on Holy Terra as well. Do you know how they got those injuries?” Arnault asked, leaning a little towards Cedric as he asked, a very focused look on his face.

Cedric stilled. How much of the truth should he tell in this moment, without asking his brothers first? And he only had suspicions about who inflicted the wounds on Malachai and Lestras, as he hadn’t been able to ask them before they died. But Pallius and Olivar had both confirmed that they’d been badly beaten by Petras in M42 before awakening in M3 on Holy Terra. “As far as I know, they were injured in M42 and were brought by whatever force is behind this to holy Terra, in this time.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Cedric. Do you know how they got so badly injured?” Arnault reiterated, his eyes narrowing a little as he spoke.

“I can’t say for sure how Malachai and Lestras ended up with injuries that they had.” though he had his suspicions, especially with Malachai’s injuries. They were, unfortunately, very familiar to Cedric. “But I do know that they’d gotten those injuries during the course of their service to the god emperor.” 

Arnault’s eyes narrowed a little further “Cedric… Ash’val showed me pictures of some of the wounds that were inflicted on your brothers - including Ramiel. I know what it looks like when someone has been attacked by Lightning Claws. All of them were attacked by an Astartes. None of them had defensive wounds, which means they did not fight back and you knew where all their injuries were, including internal ones.”

Fuck! What should he do? Cedric… Cedric did trust Arnault, he really did. But this wasn’t just his decision to make… Though, technically as the only Black Templar Apothecary tending to the injured Black Templars in the base it kind of was, in a legal sense. “... They were punished. The sins they allegedly committed vary by Brother, but the one that had them ultimately killed was one that they could not change, nor help.”

“Explain. Now.” Arnault ordered, his face a twisted into a thunderous scowl.

“I told you earlier that the Primaris rollout nearly broke the Chapter. Part of the reason why is because some Black Templars were killing Primaris Marines. A percentage of these murdered Primaris marines were the chosen apprentices of other Firstborn Marines who did not take kindly to their proteges being murdered. It was very nearly a full-on civil war within the chapter, and it…” Cedric swallowed hard, unable to look at Arnault directly as he continued to explain. He had a desire to curl up into as small of a ball as his large frame would allow, but managed to  It only stopped after the High Marshal gathered the full fleet together for a meeting and informed everyone that we Primaris marines were here to stay, and that we were not heretical abominations. If anyone wished to disagree with that, they could fight him for leadership over the chapter. None of his challengers survived the ritual duels, including the marine who was responsible for the deaths of all five of my fellow Primaris Black Templars.”

“Are any of the Black Templars who killed younger brothers currently here on Ancient Terra?” Arnault asked, his voice hard and growly. 

Fuck!

“We… We don’t know for certain.” Cedric answered truthfully… Sort of. Petras was on Holy Terra, but none of them had managed to work up the courage to confront the Chaplain directly, to find out when exactly the chaplain was from. Petras was well over four hundred years old, when he had been felled by High Marshal Helbreicht after all, and had spent well over two hundred years as an honorable and well-regarded chaplain of the Black Templars. 

“Explain to me, what you mean by that. In detail, Cedric.” Arnault growled, still scowling at Cedric.

The younger Black Templar tried very hard not to start obviously panicking. Cedric wasn’t sure how to explain in a way that wouldn’t potentially cause Arnault to fly into a rage. “I… Uhm.. Ah…” He grabbed the cool mug of tea that had been created for him and took a sip from it very slowly, trying desperately to figure out how to word things. Before he could come up with something to tell Roland, there was a strong knock on the door. “You should probably answer the door, Brother Roland.” Cedric timidly suggested, hiding behind the mug of tea as best as he could manage. 

Arnault grumbled under his breath as he stomped over to the front door. “Ja, what do you -oh Hello Roland. Bitte, come in. Cedric and I are having a chat, and you are welcome to join.”

“Danke, I’d be happy to chat with my bruders. Hallo Cedric!” Roland calls out, sounding relatively cheerful.

Oh no. Cedric is starting to feel a little cornered. He surreptitiously pulls out his phone - the screen is indeed shattered, but it does light up when he presses the correct button and checks his text messages. He’s got several missed phone calls from Captain Ash’val. The two of them are walking back to the living room he’s sitting in. Come on, escape from this conversation! His phone began ringing, it was Ramiel. God emperor bless you!i “Hey Rami, what’s going on?”

“Mattias is being brought to the clinic for treatment by his warband. He’s been  badly beaten and half-stripped out of his armor. He’s alive for now, but he’s in bad shape. I really think that it would help if you were at there to help him stay calm while he gets patched up.” Ramiel informed him, voice low and worried.

“Fuck! But he-he was fine when he arrived on Ancient Terra a couple of months ago. He-he didn’t somehow go back to M42 and come back again, did he?” Cedric asked, alarm shooting through him as he got up to his feet. “He was… He was brought to Holy Terra before he… Before he was…”

“I know that he was uninjured when he first came to Ancient Terra. According to the Crusade leader, they were meeting with a different crusade, this one lead by a chaplain captain. The chaplain wanted to talk to him privately. After their conversation he left with his crusade and Mattias didn’t. It took them an hour to find him, and he’s badly hurt.”

“That bastard’s doing it again. Fuck!” Cedric swore “I’ll be at the clinic as soon as I can. Stay safe, and be smart Rami.”

“You too, Cedric!’ Ramiel answered before ending the call. 

Unfortunately for Cedric, before he could try and leave Arnault’s house, he had to get through both Arnault and Roland, who were staring at him with intensity. 

“Hey, so I need to go. I hate to cut this conversation short, but -” Cedric started.

“We overheard your little talk with Ramiel. You will explain to us right now who this bastard harming Primaris Marines is. We have been patient, waiting for you to talk to us. We aren’t waiting anymore.” Arnault growled, lunging forward and grabbing Cedric by the back of the neck.

“Roland… Help!” Cedric called out plaintively, trying to wiggle his way to freedom.

“Nein, you will answer our questions. Who is causing this harm? Now is not to be silent, like mortal martyrs. Let us help you.” Roland answered, staring at Cedric impassively.

“I don’t know for certain which chaplain it was!” Cedric protested, wriggling more, trying to escape.

“You have your suspicions. Talk, little brother. Now!” Arnault half-snarled at him.

“Chaplain Mephisteil Petras! He was the one who killed at least a dozen primaris marines, including his own Apprentice, Ramiel! He’s here on Holy Terra. We don’t know for sure if he’s from the time he was running around beating Primaris Marines to death, but he’s beaten firstborn Marines to the point that their crusade leaders have sent them to the clinic for treatment twice to my knowledge.” Cedric blurted out, a scowl on his face “Will you let me go now? I need to help keep another brother from dying to firstborn machinations and tempers.”

"I am going to kill him." Arnault responded. His voice was steady and calm, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"We. We are going to kill him." Roland corrected Arnault, shaking his head a little.

"Uhm... We don't know for certain that it was Petras who beat up Mattias..." Cedric pointed out, anxiously.

"True, but this sort of behavior is not something that just goes away." Arnault rumbled "And he was the one who organized the exile of myself and Roland because of our bonds." And because of his writing sins, but Arnault wasn't going to go into that.

“Danke, for finally telling us, Cedric. We will accompany you to the clinic.” Roland murmured as Arnault set him down on his feet. 

“Ja. Let’s go.” The Emperor’s Champion rumbled, a deep-set scowl on his face as the three of them sprinted out of the cozy home and off to the Astartes-run clinic.

[ashdreams2023]

Hello! Can you please do Loki helping reader recover from an ED? Maybe he like feeds her and idk something like that? And when she’s the first to ask for something to eat all the avengers are shocked and get her anything she wants. It’s okay if not <3

Of course sweetie and I’m so sorry this took long!

TW: ED eating disorder

One slice please

Loki is an observing person, he notices the smallest of details, especially details about you, his beloved.

He knows the colors you like, the way you like your tea in the morning and how you would prefer to spend an extra ten minutes just lazing about in bed before doing anything productive for the day.

He also knows how you eat, the way you avoid having seconds and barely finish your plates, the way you keeping skipping meals or pretending that you forgot to eat.

There were days where you looked so pale it made him want to force feed you but he knew he couldn’t do that to you, it would only make it worse.

So he made a plan, he made sure to have all his meals with yours, he would fill up his plate and make yours smaller than keep adding from his own to yours so you wouldn’t feel pressured to fill it up again.

He would buy you different candies to try, takes you to small comfy diners you could enjoy.

Gets milkshakes whenever he notices you’re drifting away again, tells you to take it on your own pace, no pressure just enjoy the flavor.

He’s the proudest when you start suggesting real meals, not something like crackers or smoothies for the entire day.

After a good while of hard work loki can comfortably eat and be sure you would finish your full plate and not decline dessert.

But the moment he really felt happy was at Natasha’s birthday where the team had a small party with a big red velvet cake.

"Can I get one slice please?" The question was like Thor’s thunder broke loose in the building, everyone stared at you then at Loki who looked so smug and proud.

Tony spoke first "can you?! Hell you can have the whole cake if you want!"

"Juice or alcohol?" Bruce immediately tested this development.

"Um juice please"

It was such a beautiful change, nobody knew how to act after that, they just kept offering you foods and drinks, anything they touched and shard with you until you could stuff yourself even more.

It stayed like that for weeks, Natasha would order those expensive Belgian chocolates and try them with you, Clint started treating you like his child bringing snacks from whenever he goes to the grocery store and Tony oh boy tony, he placed a mini fridge in your room and made sure it was full again whenever it got empty.

Steve baked with you a lot too, even offering the cake mix spoon for you to lick.

"Thor that’s enough with your pop tarts!"

"But brother she likes them!"

Loki rubbed his temples in frustration while you giggled, you had no more place to place all the snacks and meals everyone keep dropping.

"It’s ok Loki, I’ll eat them later"

"Dove you shouldn’t force yourself to do that, you should eat because you want too and not because somebody told you so"

You smiled feeling heat sting your cheeks "I know my love, I’ll always remember that" goodness you loved him.

[blackleatherjacketz]

Lucky Guess

Max Burnett x Female Reader

Summary: Waiting on your date, you run into Max, a handsome stranger at the bar. Things turn out better than you ever could have imagined... or did they?

Warnings:18+ Only!, Explicit Smut, Emotional Manipulation, Con Men, Max Being Charming, Alcohol, Threats of Violence, Hand-Holding, Kissing, Biting, Face-Holding, Max Undressing You, Suggested Voyeurism, Vaginal Sex, Outercourse?, Hotel Sex, Woman On Top, Soft Dom/Sub Themes, Multiple Orgasms, Unprotected Sex

Word Count: 3.8K+

Tags: @bullet-prooflove​ @skittle479​

Read more of my stories HERE!

A jazz quartet plays a random selection of top forty hits in the corner of the hotel bar, the tunes barely recognizable as the drums and saxophone echo off the dark, sleek walls of the four star establishment. You look at your watch for the third time in ten minutes, stealing a glance toward the glass door of the restaurant’s entryway as you decide to settle into the bar stool that’s just a little too tall for your liking.

“A glass of moscato, please,” you tell the bartender as he makes his way over to you. You decide that you can at least stay a while and enjoy yourself even if your date has lost his chance to buy you dinner by showing up late.

“Sure thing, doll.” The bartender winks with a snap as he points at you, turning in the direction of the back room where all the chilled wine must be kept.

You fold the drink menu in on itself, pushing it away from you with a heavy sigh, wondering how this man who was so eager to ask you out last week could have possibly forgotten to meet you here. A younger version of yourself might linger on those thoughts a little longer, might over analyze every text message and phone call in between your first meeting and now, but you don’t have time for all that. You only have a select amount of nights to yourself, a few precious moments away from your kids and your job, a much needed break from the chaos that crowds your mind. You’ll be damned if you waste one of those highly coveted nights on someone who can’t respect you enough to prioritize your time.

“One glass of moscato!” The bartender returns from the back room, holding your glass of wine at the base before setting it in front of you. He points at you again before gesturing toward the cash register. “Keep it open?”

“Sure,” you nod, pulling out your card and sliding it over the countertop as he pushes the glass of wine toward you. “Why not?”

“You bet.” He grins, tossing a fresh towel over his shoulder as he palms your debit card. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Sure thing,” you smile, tracing the rim of the glass with your fingers before picking it up.

“How late is he?” The man who sits down next to you asks, chasing his question with a long draught of his cocktail as he adjusts his weight, turning in his stool to face you.

“Excuse me?” You look over as you take your first sip of wine, it’s tartness brushing over your taste buds as you notice just how attractive he is. His dark hair and chiseled features instantly send a trickle of butterflies into your stomach as the words ‘devilishly handsome’ come to mind. There’s something you can’t quite put your finger on, something about him that’s different, dangerous.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but notice you staring at your watch for the past fifteen minutes.” He swallows another mouthful of alcohol, bringing his glass down in front of him before setting it down on the counter. “A woman like you could only be waiting on one of three things.”

“A woman like me, huh?” You lead, raising an eyebrow. “And what would those be?” You find yourself subconsciously turning into him, eager to hear his theories about what could have possibly brought you here tonight.

“One,” he smiles wide when he notices you looking at him, blue eyes sparkling as he grasps onto his glass with a laugh. “You’re having an affair and you don’t want to be found out, that’s why you’re meeting him at a hotel bar instead of a restaurant. But he’s running late, and that window of opportunity before your husband comes home from that business trip is closing fast.” He brings his glass up to his lips, pointing at you with its rim.

You crack a smile with his unfounded prediction before taking a congratulatory sip of your wine, the carbonation wrinkling your nose as you try not to laugh. “And your next guess?”

“Alright.” He leans into you with a smirk, making a point to reach over your shoulder as he takes his time hovering over the bowl of cherries behind the counter. You try your best not to get lost in the scent of his cologne as it surrounds you; the deep, smoky notes of cedarwood drawing you in as he exposes his neck before finally grabbing the stem of the fruit that suits his fancy.

“Two,” he continues his speech, leaning back in his seat before dropping the cherry into his drink. “You’re not married, but you’re still meeting someone here. Nothing serious of course, just drinks. Maybe a first or second date, but he’s more than a little late, and you’re thinking he might even be standing you up.” He glances at the empty doorway before looking back at you, his eyes traveling up and down your figure before finally settling in on your lips.

“And the third option?” Another modest sip of your wine.

“You’re just thirsty.” He rolls his tongue along the inside of his cheek with a tilt of his head as a sudden heat rushes into your chest. “And you’re waiting to see how long it will take for a handsome stranger to come up and offer to buy you a drink.”

You hold his gaze as you tip the bottom of your wine glass into the air, swallowing a bigger swig of it before setting it down on the napkin between you. “A handsome stranger, huh?” You smirk, enjoying the rare feeling of being actively pursued as his eyes work together with the alcohol to warm you up from the inside. “Those are some pretty wild theories.”

“Hey!” A third party’s voice interrupts your back and forth, drawing your attention to the man who was supposed to meet you here over twenty minutes ago. He doesn’t look flushed or worried, not maimed or disheveled as he approaches the bar at a slow, unbothered pace. “I lost track of time, but I’m glad you’re still here.” He looks at your new friend for a split second before he begins unbuttoning his suit jacket.

“What are you doing?” You spin around to face him fully, your back now facing the bar.

“We have a date.” He unfastens his button as he looks at you. “I’m gonna order a drink.”

“We had a date, yeah,” you look down at your watch, noticing that your conversation with the stranger has made time pass by a little quicker than you thought. “That was at six o’clock. It’s now six thirty.” You cross your legs together in your stool, watching his face drop in disbelief.

“I told you, I lost track of time.” He looks over at the stranger, his hand still nervously holding onto his suit jacket before focusing back on you. “You’re not really going to be like this, are you?”

“Be like what?” You double down, keeping your tone as cold as possible. “Expect a courtesy call or text if you’re running late? A telegraph or smoke signal at the very least?”

“I told you, I lost track of time.”

“I didn’t hear an apology anywhere in there.” You look to your new friend who seems to be utterly rapt with your interaction. “Did you?”

“No.” He shakes his head without missing a beat, hiding a smirk behind his glass.

“Yeah, I’m sorry Josh, but you lost your window about twenty minutes ago.” You fold your arms across your chest as his features contort with anger.

“Who the hell’s this guy, then, anyways?” He points to the stranger, the veins in his neck bulging as he steps closer to the both of you. “You move on that quick? Huh? Whore?”

Before you’re even able to respond, the man sitting next to you steps out of his chair, towering over your would-be date in the most menacing stance you’ve ever seen before in your life. You allow him to take charge for a moment, your feeble attempts at cutting your interaction short failing to get the job done. “The lady made it pretty clear she wants you to leave.” His dark tone is practically unrecognizable from the light and airy conversation you were having before.

Your date stares at the stranger, slowly stepping backwards as his anger visibly morphs into fear. Droplets of sweat begin to form at his temples, racing down the sides of his face as he nods his head, almost as if there are some unspoken words between them to finally get the message across. He looks at you one more time, muttering the word ‘bitch’ or something like it before turning on his heel to make his hasty exit.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you tell him as he takes his seat back next to you, sighing in relief as he swivels in his stool.

“Yeah well, some men only respond to the presence of another man.” He runs a hand through his hair and tosses the rest of his drink back, motioning for the bartender to get him another. “You okay?”

“I think I’ll survive, thanks.” You follow suit and finish your glass of wine, smiling at his instinctive act of chivalry.

“So I was right,” he picks up your previous conversation, leaning his elbow against the bar to face you again as another glass of moscato appears in your peripheral vision. “It was number two.”

“Lucky guess.” You scoff, wrapping your fingers around the base as he attempts to lighten the mood.

“Well I figured it couldn’t be number one, there’s no ring on your finger.” He reaches out and touches your hand, loosening its grip on your glass as his fingertips begin massaging your palm. “Unless you’re just not wearing it tonight.” He bites his lower lip as his thumb brushes over your barren ring finger, his pupils expanding as he pulls you in a little closer.

“I’m not married, if that’s what you’re trying to ask.” You whisper as the space between you closes, his scent now swimming through your senses as he continues massaging your hand.

“That’s good.” He leans in to properly study your face as he squeezes your hand affectionately, his thumb exciting the tiny hairs on the back of your hand. “I’m not married, either.”

“That’s good.” You repeat back to him, wondering just how skilled the rest of his fingers might be.

“Yeah?” He lets go of your finger and leans back in his seat, those crystal blue eyes of his never leaving your face as he sighs to part his lips in a real, genuine smile. “Any chance that number three is still an option?”

————————-

The view from his hotel room is absolutely stunning, the street lamps and office buildings of New York City illuminating the night sky for miles in front of you as his hand gently squeezes the base of your neck. You hadn't done anything like this in years, hadn’t tossed your inhibitions to the wind in exchange for a night of attention and pleasure with a complete stranger. Your life was so structured, so compartmentalized that you had to meticulously schedule a night to be free, a night to feel anything at all, and he’s been generous enough to offer you an entire range of those feelings. You smile at your translucent reflection as his other hand finds its way onto your hip, pulling you back just enough to feel him flush against you, his lips just barely touching the shell of your ear.

“I can’t believe that guy was stupid enough to blow a chance with you.” He whispers, tracing his fingers down your spine to the zipper of your dress.

“Well, they can’t all be winners.” You shrug as he starts to unzip it, taking his time pulling the fabric apart as he breathes against your neck, forcing you to inhale quickly in response.

“No, they can’t.” He kisses a trail down your neck as a cascade of goose flesh follows, the zipper stopping just shy of your tailbone as he exposes your back. His kisses deepen into the nape of your neck as he removes his other hand from your hip, smoothing it up your back to push the straps off of your torso. You finally exhale as the black cloth leaves your body, silently falling onto the floor as his mouth moves onto your shoulders, his lips parting just enough to taste your skin as it shivers beneath his touch.

“These windows are so big, anybody walking by could see us.” Your insecurities rear their ugly head as he kisses his way down your shoulder blade and lower back, getting onto his knees for better access to the rest of your body.

“Then let them watch,” he mutters matter of factly against your bare ass, barely covered by the lace thong you're sporting as he pulls it down over your hips, playfully nipping at the skin just above your thigh.

You gasp at the intensity of his bite, relishing in the feeling of warmth his mouth and hands send into your core as his lips cover nearly every inch of your legs. You hold onto that breath, letting it expand in your chest as he slides your underwear over your knees, past your calves and onto the floor. He lets them drop without a word, his lips peppering slow, affectionate kisses onto your skin before squeezing his fingers against your ankles and into the arch of your foot. One by one, he lifts your feet up and out of your heels, watching you step over the crumpled fabric of your dress now pooled around them before running his hands up and down your legs as you turn around to face him.

The city lights cast such a beautiful hue on his handsome face, highlighting his cheekbones and darkening his eyes as they look up at you from his position on the floor. You reach out to touch him as his hands remain on your calves, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear as his eyelids close for a brief second. You can’t believe how lucky you are to have reached this moment with him, wondering how much your luck would have changed if your date had shown up on time.

“Matching lingerie,” his words interrupt your thoughts as his eyes open back up, locking onto yours. “It’s almost as if you wanted someone to see.” His lips curl into a smirk with his teasing tone, his breath warming a path up your body as he rises to his feet, just barely brushing his palms over your thighs and hips on his way back up.

“Well, you can never be too prepared,” you start to rationalize your wardrobe choices to him before his hands slide up your stomach and back, stopping once they find the hook of your bra.

“Oh, I’m not complaining.” He brings his lips closer to yours as he works to unfasten it, pulling the restrictive bodice down your arms and dropping it onto the floor with the rest of your clothes. “I’m just glad I’m the one who gets to see it.”

The phantom flavor of whiskey mixes in with the sweet aftertaste of wine as your lips part to welcome his, gasping as his hands graze over your newly exposed breasts. You can feel your nipples harden against his palms as they curve to cup around them, lightly squeezing before smoothing up your chest and neck to cradle your face and savor your kiss. He pulls back just enough to glance down at your lips again, pausing for what seems like an eternity before looking over at the armchair in the corner of the room. He kisses you again, this time a little deeper, a little longer before gently stroking your cheeks with his thumbs as he pulls his hands off of your face, reluctantly breaking contact.

“I’m Max, by the way.” He whispers his belated introduction, slowly turning away from you to head toward the chair as he begins unbuttoning his own dress shirt.

Jesus Christ, have you been that enamored by him that you really forgot to ask him that? His fucking NAME? You watch him pull the tails of his shirt out of his waistline, shrugging it off his shoulders to reveal a body just as chiseled as the features of his face. Goddamn it, you’re in trouble. You can feel a bit of moisture start to collect between your thighs as you stare at him, hearing your own voice instinctively recite your name out loud as he makes his way over to the chair, undoing his belt and pants.

“Now we’re no longer strangers,” he starts, winking as he pushes his pants and underwear down in one fell swoop. “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?” He kicks off his shoes and steps out of his clothes, backing up to sit down on the empty chair that faces you.

“Am I? Do I? Umm… thank you.” You stare at his naked silhouette, the sheer sight of him tying a knot into your stomach as he settles into the armchair, your whole body tensing in anticipation. “You look… good, you look umm…” you stammer as you watch him spit on his palm, slowly gripping himself in the darkness as he silently takes you in.

“Come here.” He interrupts your brain’s mad scramble for words as he beckons you with his opposite hand, patting his thigh. “Take a seat.”

Your eyebrows dart into your hairline as you gawk at him, unable to reply as your throat dries up and your thighs rub together to contain the arousal nearly dripping between them. You watch him stroke himself in a grateful mixture of both desire and disbelief, forcing your muscles to move your body forward as you eagerly make your way toward him.

The fabric of the chair bends beneath your knees, its plastic blend cracking and pinching into your skin as you straddle his thighs, his mouth falling slack as you grab onto his shoulders for support. His other hand snakes its way up the back of your neck, fingers gripping onto your hair just tightly enough to control your body and guide your movements. He lowers your hips down as you roll them toward him, looking up at you as he carefully glides the head of his cock in between your folds, spreading your juices up and down your length.

“Right here?” You tease, nudging against him at the most delicious angle as his grip on your hair tightens with a slight moan from his lips.

“Yeah,” he mutters, eyelids fluttering shut as he tries his best to control his breathing, careful not to enter you just yet. He continues to coat himself with your arousal, pressing his tip against your bud as he opens his eyes to watch the rhythmic movements of your body in complete and utter awe. “Right there, just like that.”

“Okay.” You suck your breath in through your teeth as he brushes over your clit, showering your senses with dozens of little bursts of pleasure, each upward motion of his tip quickly countered by a downward thrust of your hips until all of those pulses finally build up inside of you. That ecstasy you so rarely get to experience heats to a boil, rising up in your blood until you can feel it race through every inch of your body. Every time he rubs himself against you, that pleasure acts like a drug, traveling further through your blood vessels and up into your heart and lungs. It spreads like oxygen through your circulatory system as it pulses through your arteries, giving your brain and body the intense high that you’ve been craving, the high that you’ve been needing.

You moan against his forehead as that blissful delight suddenly takes over, pushing through your veins and capillaries, saturating the very tissue of your muscles as it makes you shiver uncontrollably. You cry out as it works its way through you with each beat of your heart, feeding every organ, vessel and nerve with a pulse of euphoria that violently rattles itself into your bones. You arch your back as your thighs quake against the chair’s armrest, pulling his head into your chest until there's nothing left to fuel your cells, nothing left to hold you up as your muscles momentarily fail, lowering your hips down onto his.

He groans as you sink down onto him, pushing himself up inside of your heat, feeling you shudder and spasm around his cock before he’s even lifted his hips up off the chair. He grins into the delicate skin of your chest, holding on tightly to the back of your head as he continues to bury himself deeper into you. All sense of restraint and control he’d practiced before seems to melt away with each consecutive thrust, his moans becoming more feral, more sporadic as he kisses his way up your neck and chin. He loses himself completely, kissing your lips with reckless abandon as he pulls your body down in one final blow, snapping his hips up against your thighs, suddenly spilling his release.

He grunts as he holds you close, each twitch and spasm of his pelvis coating your inner walls white as a trail of sweat runs down your chest and onto his. He grins as another wave of pleasure rolls through you, vibrating every cell in your body as it clenches your muscles around him, turning his grunt into a groan as he moans the extent of his orgasm into your lips. He kisses you harder as your fluids mix with his, the two of you moving together in a mesmerizing rhythm as he sucks your tongue into his mouth, scraping his teeth across your taste buds.

“You look so perfect when you come, you know that?” He whispers his praises into your mouth as his breathing slows, nipping at your bottom lip before kissing it again with a smirk.

“Uh huh.” You whine, barely able to put words together as your skin still tingles with the aftershock of your bliss. You hold his face in your hands as you kiss his lips, moving your mouth down to taste the sweaty skin of his jaw and neck before resting your head on his shoulder. “You do, too.”

“Yeah?” He holds himself inside you, running his hands up and down your back in an attempt to ease the process of coming down from the chemical high you both just shared. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to look any more beautiful than when I first saw you downstairs, but this…” he kisses your hair, inhaling your scent. “This is better.”

[ohbutwheresyourheart]

I have far too many half-written things in my google docs that have never seen the light of day, so I've decided to start buffing up the best ones and posting them unfinished. Maybe I'll come back to them later, or if not at least someone will hopefully enjoy reading them as they are.

First up: fragments from a WIP based on the concept that Eva did not actually die when the twins were children; instead, she got caught in the magic field of a Geryon and sling-shotted to the middle of Devil May Cry 5. What I wrote revolved more around the aftermath, and Eva trying to come to terms with the modern world, her losses, and not knowing what happened to her sons.

The building is echoing once the buffer of trash is removed. High ceilings dissipating into shadowy un-shapes. Dark corners shifting like predators turning and twisting. It’s too like the manor in those early days before she tamed it as Sparda had; made it respect her for all she was a mortal woman.

Made it respect her because she was a mortal woman.

She feels so tired, though; too tired to start a fresh war. So Eva lives with the shadows and whatever they may hide. At least it’s not outwardly hostile. Even if it was, by rights she shouldn’t be comfortable here.

This domain, this world, empty of her sons.

----

Swollen and fragile all at once, like a wine glass held too long in hot water - ripe for shattering with a single thoughtless move.

Midmorning is an inauspicious time for any demon to appear; Eva uses the reprieve to walk the city streets. Capulet is smaller than Red Grave but still a decent-sized city in its own right, checking off all the requirements: university, libraries, museums, churches, arts district, cheerful cafes dotting the sidewalk…

A few months ago -- no, thirty years ago -- she would have delighted in browsing the art supplies store, or checking the museum events for child-friendly exhibitions (but boys you must behave), or laughing into her coffee as two eight year olds descended into extensive debate on the merits of chocolate cake over strawberry tarts.

Now she buys peppermint tea in a to-go cup and takes it to the park.

Capulet is unexpectedly windswept in August, errant breezes stirring up the parched over-long grass around her ankles and pulling her hair, strand by strand, out of the confines of her ponytail.

The park is quietish; the younger children are out in force but a university city never really feels alive during the summer while the students are away. She follows the winding gravel path towards the duck pond at the centre and circles it once, twice. Watches other mothers with children tossing breadcrumbs to the ducks; running; playing.

“Why don’t you go and play, boys? Just--”

“Be careful, I know.” Vergil’s eyes, already so much older than they should be. “Why even try when we have to pretend?”

She’d never come up with a good enough answer for him.

Trish finds her on a bench. She sits down without ceremony or preamble, sunglasses her one concession to the summer day but otherwise as unaffected by the August sun as she no doubt will be by the coming autumn chill.

(Eva is rapidly coming to dislike Trish. Not because she is a demon, per se, but because it’s so fucking demoralising to constantly see the perfect version of herself; an Eva who will never succumb to sagging tits or a bloated stomach or even messy hair.)

“Are you all right? You’re sitting there like a ghost.”

Eva sips her tea to save herself from an immediate response. The cup is almost empty and the dregs are cold; she doesn’t remember drinking it.

“I’m fine.”

“Mm.” Trish doesn’t look as though she believes Eva in the slightest, but thankfully doesn’t push the issue. “Well, in that case, I have a favour to ask.”

“Oh?” Eva becomes instantly wary. Even as despondent as she feels, she knows better than to thoughtlessly promise a demon anything.

Something flashes in Trish’s eyes, gone too quickly for Eva to define it. The slow smile that curls the corners of her lips is equally inscrutable.

“Don’t worry, it’s not a favour for me, exactly,” she assures her, waving a perfectly manicured hand (again that familiar burst of jealousy towards a creature that could control their human physical appearance at will; Sparda had never had a bad hair day in his life--). “Lady heard you’re quite the dab hand with magic and she wanted to know if there were any goodies you could make for her, or teach her, or… whatever, really.”

“Last I saw, Lady has a tongue in her head,” Eva replies coolly.

Trish’s smile widens. “Oh, she does, but she’s out of town this week and when I saw you I thought I might as well ask now as later.”

“Mm.” Now it’s Eva’s turn to give Trish a searching look. She taps her nails (not perfectly manicured by any definition of the term) against her empty cup, wishing there was some left; she could make use of a timely pause to sip her tea and give herself a moment to think. “Well, I’m happy to talk to Lady about what she needs when she’s back in Capulet.”

“I’ll pass the message on.” With one flowing, elegant movement, Trish gets to her feet and stretches like a languid cat. “I’d better get going. See you around, Eva.”

“Yes, see you,” Eva mutters to her back; Trish is already going, sashaying through the park like she owns the place.

Something about this doesn’t smell right and Eva has sense enough to be cautious.

And yet… When she returns to Devil May Cry, she spends time going through the cupboards she’s restocked and checking her herbs. She uses the laptop Nero and Nico set her up with and finds websites that sell the supplies she needs -- whether advertised for witchcraft or otherwise -- and prepares lists of useful tricks; things that used to give her the edge she needed to survive another night.

It might not be useful for Lady -- if, indeed, Lady even asked the question -- but it’s useful for Eva. Practically, because she can’t be too careful even now, and in the abstract;  when she goes to bed that night, Eva sleeps better than she has in weeks. Her hands might be dry and her nails might be broken, but with her fingertips stained and smelling of herbs once again she almost begins to recognise herself.

----

To Eva’s palpable surprise, Lady does actually swing by Devil May Cry the following week.

“Trish told me she saw you,” Lady explains as she unholsters Kaline Ann and sets her down on the desk. “Did she tell you the kind of thing I was looking for?”

Because there is truth in this cover story that Lady and Trish have concocted between themselves. Yes, mainly they want to check on Eva, but it also never hurts for an old bitch to learn some new tricks.

And how does Eva look? Less like Trish than she used to; Eva has taken to shoving her hair up in a loose bun at the back of her head (the better, Lady assumes, to keep it out of her face now she was no longer playing lady of the manor) and has swapped her elegant black gown for a serviceable sweater and jeans. On her feet, Doc Martens. On her hands, broken nails and stained fingertips. In her eyes - fire.

“In passing.” Eva is - suspicious? Well, Lady can’t entirely blame her for still finding her feet with all of them, particularly Trish - though Trish herself had taken it as a compliment that Eva considered her enough potential trouble to be wary of.

“You’re welcome to anything I can teach you, although…” Eva’s gaze slides across and down to Kalina Ann. There is something distinctly hungry (covetous?) in her eyes. “You seem to have the offensive side pretty well covered.”

Lady grins, one firearms aficionado to another. “Give Nico a call if you want anything - you can’t beat the Goldsteins for guns and for you she’ll probably do it for free.”

That does it: the reserve cracks and Eva grins back. It is not the kind, motherly smile that Dante probably remembers. This is the smile that a tiger would give you if it could.

“Noted.” Eva pulls out a stack of books from one of the desk drawers. “Now, where do you want to start?”

It does not take long for Lady to be very, very glad she arranged this meeting. Eva is an absolute trove of knowledge. Much of it Lady already knows, and some of it is interesting but not strictly relevant -- Lady’s fighting style being much more full-on than Eva’s tactics lend themselves to -- but she still picks up plenty.

----

Nero is a dutiful, darling boy. He checks in with her, regular as clockwork, trying to disguise the anxiety in his voice. He doesn’t know how to be with her, but he tries nonetheless.

He asks her, often, to visit him in Fortuna; to meet his girlfriend and the children they have adopted. Eva demurs and lets him think she’s still putting off the inevitable label of grandmother. It’s not a total lie, but it’s far from the primary reason. Maybe, perceptive as he is (and he is; Sparda’s eyes staring at her, seeing straight through her despite the un-Sparda-ish mouthing off), he knows that, too, and is giving her time.

It’s just… what if they come back, and she isn’t here to greet them? What if they think she’s truly gone again? She can’t hurt her boys like that a second time. She can’t let them down again when they look for her, reach for her. God knows she was worth fuck-all to them then and even less now, as much protection as a paper cut-out, but if they know she’s willing to put herself between the two of them and danger, then… that’s something, isn’t it? However little, it’s something.

The latest attempt comes on a late autumn evening. October is slipping away, each dark evening bringing them a little closer to Halloween. The most enterprising of the local children have already ventured out trick-or-treating with the excuse that the 31st is a school night, and Eva watches troupes of ghosties and ghoulies and long-legged beasties parade past the windows with a bittersweet smile. She bought a bag of candy but doesn’t really expect any trick-or-treaters; Dante, with good reason, didn’t take pains to encourage the local kids to come calling.

Nero and Nico pull up, a welcome interruption to her descent into melancholy, out of breath but radiant from their latest skirmish. They stop by Devil May Cry on the pretence of leaving word for Morrison that payment is due, but Nero could do that himself on the little computer phone he carries around with him. In reality, they’re checking on her.

Eva doesn’t mind, really. She likes the company, and the kids (God, she calls them kids, they’re not that much younger than she is) are energetic; it’s hard to be actively maudlin when refereeing a shouting match. Nico especially is nosy and almost impossible to brush off or offend. On every visit, she wheedles a few more secrets out of Eva’s recipe books. Lately, Eva has been amusing herself by giving her tidbits and letting Nico reverse-engineer either the process or the product. Usually, she gets it right. Occasionally, she comes up with something better.

Tonight, though, Eva feels even harder to cheer than normal. Nico is put off by a wad of cash to get takeout -- Sparda laid the bounty of the world at her feet, but Nero and Nico are giving her a world tour laden with grease -- leaving Eva and Nero alone for half an hour. Nero has unchecked notebook privileges, as long as he’s careful with them, and he flicks through the entries thoughtfully.

“How did you learn all this stuff in the first place?”

“It depends which stuff we’re talking about.” Eva leans over his shoulder, pointing to the pages. “Sparda gave me a lot of them; things he’d picked up over the years, I don’t even know where from. But this one -- here -- that was from a hunter I partnered up with a lot in the early days. These tisanes were from my aunt. I used to say she should have been born a mediaeval herb-woman, except they’d have hung her for a witch.”

But Nero has stopped looking at the pages. He’s looking at her instead; thoughtful, in a way that is so Vergil it makes her heart skip a beat.

“What were they like, your family?”

“My family...” How long has it been since family wasn’t Sparda and the boys? How much longer since it meant the house she grew up in, and the people who populated it? “Oh, they -- they’re long gone. Better not to dwell. I have the boys,” Except she doesn’t. “And you, of course.”

Nero isn’t diverted, not for a moment, and the tilt of his eyebrows is pure Vergil. But he lets it go for now.

They taper off into silence. It lasts for a few minutes, Eva turning over possibilities in her mind. The words, when they come, are nevertheless a surprise; something she hadn’t meant to let loose.

“My father was a twin,” she says abruptly. “He and my uncle were thick as thieves. I always used to hope I’d have twins -- they say it skips a generation, so I thought it was likely I would -- and then they’d both always have a friend.”

She lets out a hollow little laugh. A friend. What a fucking fairytale.

Where did she go so wrong? Yes, the boys had always had their spats, but Eva had chalked that up to a mixture of their demonic blood and the marked differences in their personalities, watchful but not truly worried. She tried to encourage them to get along, to talk out their problems, but had also comforted herself that it was something they would grow out of as they got older and developed a bit more emotional maturity. Siblings fought; it was perfectly normal. Even she and Elijah--

Eva squeezes her eyes closed. She can’t think about Elijah right now.

A warm, calloused hand covers her own and Eva opens her eyes to see Nero watching her, his expression unusually serious.

“It’s not your fault,” he tells her, quietly but with a forceful conviction behind his words that reminds her of Sparda. “Yeah, they’re idiots, and they’re both kind of fucked up in their own ways, but it’s not your fault. They’d be a lot worse if it hadn’t been for you.”

Is that true? Eva isn’t sure which is worse; that she has ruined her boys, or that they would somehow be even worse without her.

But none of this is Nero’s problem. Grandson, she reminds herself once again. Grandson. Not a peer, not a comrade to lean on. A young man she needs to protect.

Pull yourself together, Eva.

----

Eventually, Eva gets sick of sitting around Devil May Cry waiting for something to happen.

She has never been a passive person. Eva makes things happen. Ever since Lady asked for some tricks to help her on hunts, Eva has been building up her supplies again. Restocking her herbs, potions, and powders. Dusting off Dante’s collection of magic books (a surprisingly comprehensive collection; Vergil had always been the bookworm, while Dante was too much of a fidget-bottom to sit still for five minutes)  and reminding herself of her favourite cantrips. Eventually, she contracts Nico to make her a pair of guns like her old ones.

The last time Eva felt so lost, she was drowning in grief for her husband and it ended in tragedy for her sons. She will not make the same mistake twice. Reaching back through the years, breaking down the walls she had so carefully built up, she remembers how it felt to be fifteen and alone; fifteen and desperate; fifteen and unstoppable.

Then she asks Morrison for some work.

As a young woman trying to break into this line of work, Eva had gotten used to the looks she elicited from these “brokers”. The initial amusement, thinking she’s joking. The surprise when they realise she isn’t. The patronising shake of the head as they assure her this is no work for a pretty little lady like her. Finally, the shock and anger as they hastily reconsidered their position with a gun jammed up against their throats.

Over time, she’d gotten a reputation for being an infernal bitch who was extremely good at what she did, which meant the work came easier. Eventually, by the time she met Sparda, she’d been running her own jobs without a broker at all - unless they were coming to her for a favour.

But that was then. Now she’s back to square one. Unproved. Untried. Untested. It’s aggravating but Eva knows she’ll have to just deal with it if she wants an in.

Because Eva is pretty sure she can talk Morrison into kicking a few jobs her way. Asking Lady, or Nero, or Trish to share, though? It will all be there - amusement, surprise, disbelief - and the worst thing of all is that they will be speaking not from baseless stereotyping but all too real knowledge.

Dante told us all about it, Eva. You barely lasted a minute when the demons attacked, isn’t that right? This is way too much for you.

No. She will work until she has beaten the softness out of herself. Until she can go back to them on an even footing. Until it’s second nature once again to have gunpowder on her clothes and the spark of magic at her fingertips. Until the Underworld has learned to fear Sparda’s whore again.

Then she will get their respect, rather than their pity.

Morrison drops by periodically for coffee and a chat. There hasn’t been any money-grubbing yet; Dante owns the office outright - Eva has seen the deed and it’s real enough - and the bills are being paid out of his last earnings. It won’t last forever, but it’s been enough to take one worry off Eva’s mind so far.

Instead, Morrison seems to simply enjoy her company, or maybe he just can’t kick the habit of showing up at Devil May Cry to see Dante. Whatever the reason, Eva enjoys his visits and his dry humour. What Morrison makes of her, she’s not sure; Eva had told him, in a tone that made it clear she was lying, that she was Trish’s long-lost sister. Morrison had simply chuckled and refrained from asking any questions.

That’s one thing Eva always did like about brokers; they’re the kind of people who don’t ask difficult, unnecessary questions.

“You’ve got this place looking real good, Eva.” Morrison looks around with genuine admiration and gestures with his lit cigarette to the spider plant growing ever larger in the corner. “Way better than Dante ever did. Mother of God, the state I’ve seen this office in… well. Maybe best not to elaborate too much there.”

Eva laughs, remembering how Dante always tried his best to weasel out of his chores. Even getting him to make his bed was a challenge. It seems he hasn’t improved with age.

“It’s certainly been quite the project. But, now that it’s done, I’ve been thinking I need something else to do.” Eva watches Morrison carefully, waiting for his reaction. “Do you have any work for me?”

Morrison smirks. “Getting bored already? Yeah, I got a few things on the back burner - the kind of stuff the other ladies think they’re too good for, if you catch my drift, and the kid really has got his hands full.”

...Okay, that was absurdly easy. Eva narrows her eyes, but Morrison doesn’t look like he’s trying to mock her. On the contrary, when he sees her expression, he holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“Hey, I don’t control the work that comes in! Besides, pay is pay, am I right?”

“I’m looking for hunting work,” Eva says pointedly, wondering if he’s mistaken her meaning.

“Yeah, yeah, I got you.” Morrison chuckles as he takes a drag on his cigarette. “What, were you expecting me to say no? If nobody will do the work, I won't get paid either.”

“I…” Eva is floored. All of her preparation, all that time spent rehearsing her arguments, and it turns out she doesn’t need any of them. “I was expecting, uh…”

“Pushback?” Morrison gives her a knowing look. “Do you really think I’d have lasted this long with those ladies if I trotted out that kind of line? As far as I’m concerned, if you hang around with Dante, Lady, and Trish, then you know what you’re doing and you can take care of yourself.”

Morrison pulls a notebook out of his pocket and rifles through it, humming under his breath. He tears out a page and walks over to lay it on Eva’s desk.

“Here are the details. Just give me a call when you’re done with them and I’ll arrange your payment. Damages come out of your cut, mind you. If everything goes well, I’ll see what else I have for you.”

----

It really is grunt work, but Eva doesn’t mind; she’s not arrogant enough to think she could jump single-handedly into something like Red Grave, guns blazing.

The job also isn't urgent - hence Morrison being lackadaisical about bullying someone into taking it - which gives her the leisure of reconnaissance and planning time.

An empusa nest out on some waste ground that a local developer bought before noticing his unexpected squatters. Straightforward enough, although Eva takes more precautions than she thinks are necessary just in case. After all, she’s seen her judgement is far from perfect.

But in the end, all goes smoothly. No nasty surprises. Just some nasty stains on the concrete from empusas blown to kingdom come. Eva grimaces at them, hoping they don’t count as “damages”. The land is being developed anyway, right? Surely they’ll be putting down fresh tarmac?

In the end, Morrison does take a cut from her pay, but it’s less than she feared and so Eva swallows it with as much good grace as she can muster. The stack of notes is a reassuring weight in her hand. Ballast, though for (or against) what, she’s not entirely sure. The important thing is that she’s done a competent enough job that Morrison leaves her with the details of another couple of jobs. In this way a reputation is built.

“Morrison,” Eva calls out just before he leaves.

Morrison pauses on the threshold. There’s a beat before he looks back at her over his shoulder and Eva gets the impression he knows exactly what she’s about to ask.

“Do you think he’s coming back?”

Because Morrison is not Trish, or Lady, or Nero. He does not know her connection to these people. To Dante. So he has no reason to lie to her or spare her feelings.

He sucks in a breath, considering. “You know, I’d gotten to the point where I never thought I’d see anything Dante didn’t come back from. So many times I thought he was in way over his head, only for him to walk away laughing. But this job… this felt different from the start. Gave me a sort of -- premonition, you might say.”

A soft hum; something that might have been a laugh, if there was any humour in it, and Morrison shook his head.

“The truth is, Eva, I don’t know. I really don’t. He could come waltzing back in here tomorrow, carrying a pizza and laughing at us all for ever doubting him. Or we might never see him again.”

Eva sinks slowly into the desk chair, feeling the truth of it in her bones. A tidal wave of exhaustion crashes over her, threatening to drown her in one clean swoop. Tired of worry. Tired of uncertainty. Tired of never even having the cold comfort of a body to bury. Tired of that tiny speck of hope that even now refused to be snuffed out completely because, however ridiculous it was to expect it, there was still the chance--

“I knew someone else like that, once,” she hears herself say. “He never did come back.”

Morrison gives her a searching look. He seems, for a moment, to be on the verge of saying something more, but in the end refrains. Instead, he tips his hat to her.

“You take care, Eva.”

“Yeah,” Eva replies distantly. “You too, Morrison.”

----

The work is important for more than Eva’s ego.

Her blood sings in her veins once again. The hum of power at her fingertips, like the whine of electricity. A promise, maybe even a vow if you were so inclined to call it such, that one day in the none-too-distant future a small slice of the world would once again turn at Eva’s call and beckoning. She has known this once before when playing lady of the manor. Now, the power is both weaker, for lack of Sparda’s force bolstering her, and sweeter, for knowing it is all of her own clawing and devising.

Her blood sings and Eva tastes iron and lightning on her tongue. Her fingers smell of metal and herbs and something no mortal can rightly put words to; the tang of the Underworld and the burning sulphur of demons.

When Eva looks at her reflection in the chipped bathroom mirror and sees an old, familiar light in her eyes, she knows it is time.

Very little magic needs to be complicated. The point is will, and the directing of it. For those unfamiliar with the craft then the trimmings of rituals and candles can go a long way in finding that direction.

For those who live long enough to become old hands, just the thinking, coupled with the right runes, is enough. Eva takes a sharp knife, a handful of herbs, and a silver-backed mirror (in this, old ways are better; a mercury mirror would work better still, but this will do for now)... and she searches.

Blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh, soul of my soul, I seek thee now. Come to me, come to me, come to me…

It is a powerful spell. Kinfinding may not be enough to physically draw her boys forth from the Underworld, but it should at least show them to her in the scrying mirror.

Eva seeks until her blood runs dangerously thin and her head pounds and her vision begins to darken. She seeks further still until she knows herself at the very precipice of what she can safely come back from… and only then, with great reluctance, does she let the spell go.

She has not seen them, either of them, even once.

----

Eventually, it feels meaningless to even keep up the pretence she thinks the boys are coming back.

What has happened to them is almost immaterial. The nightmare scenarios are so numerous that eventually they blur together into one long snuff film that leaves her numb. Like Sparda, they were there and then they were not. Like Sparda, she will never know what exactly happened.

Devil May Cry becomes part tomb, part cocoon. She has saved enough money to keep Morrison at bay for a while even after Dante’s funds run out, and she continues to take work for the sake of it, though she doesn’t keep track of her income versus expenditures. If or when the money runs out, she’s not sure. It’s pointless to think so far ahead. Perhaps she’ll just die, like she should have before.

A wife without a husband. A mother without sons. Once, she would have vomited at the thought of a woman identifying herself by the men in her life, but somehow it crept up on her over the years and now she’s left with gaping, bloody holes that gung-ho feminist rhetoric does nothing to paste over.

Nobody seems to notice the change in her philosophy. Though, she gets precious few visitors anyway. Trish and Lady leave her to her own devices, having apparently satisfied their curiosity about her. Morrison has tapered off their tete-a-tetes and only shows up when he wants money. Nero is a busy boy these days.

One night she dreams about them. The dream is very similar to the ones she used to have about Sparda; lifelike, almost lucid dreaming, where everything was the same - she is in bed, having just awoken - except he is there, smiling gently, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

Sleeping in, Eva?

Dreaming about the boys is very similar. She dreams she awakens in the night to a sound downstairs. There is no panic of a break-in; nobody bothers her these days. Voices, muffled, from the floor below. Eva calmly gets out of bed, registering even the rustle of the sheets and the cold, bare wooden boards under her feet. She pads slowly out of the bedroom to the top of the stairs.

There they are, standing in the centre of the office, illuminated perfectly by a strip of moonlight through the window. It is like a picture. It is too perfect and too easy. This is how she knows she is dreaming.

Still, for the first time in months, her heart eases.

They are talking softly to each other, too softly for her to catch the words (there is a limit, she concedes, to just how much even her vivid imagination can conjure). Eva doesn’t mind. She stands at the mezzanine and soaks them in.

Dante gestures to the stairs and looks up. He freezes as their eyes meet. Vergil, a half-heartbeat behind his twin, mirrors him.

“...Hey,” Dante croaks, the gesturing hand that had fallen still now awkwardly waving. “We’re home!”

This is more than she expected. Eva’s throat constricts. Even her dreams of Sparda were not so vivid or so long.

“You’re late, boys,” she manages after a moment. “Dinner was hours ago.”

She is trying for levity, trying to play her part in this scene, trying to piece together something happy for when she wakes up, but her voice cracks halfway through the sentence and she finds herself choking on a sob.

Dante is halfway up the stairs in a moment, hand outstretched to her. Eva, too, is reaching out to her little boy and she cries out when she finally has her arms around him again.

She does not get even a heartbeat of joy before the world collapses into shadows and flames. Dante dissolves, her arms closing around thin air, and the staircase morphs into an endless corridor to hell. Her boys are nowhere to be seen, but she can hear them screaming.

Or maybe she just hears her own voice, screaming herself awake.

There are more dreams, afterwards; more recognisable for what they are. Her life runs before her eyes in reverse. Searching for the boys. Watching Sparda walk away for the last time. The face of every person she never saved. Then, at last, the denouement: Elijah, torn open. Her father and uncle staring sightless into an abyss. Her mother reduced to so many scattered chunks of meat.

Eventually, because Eva is someone who makes things happen, not someone things simply happen to, she makes the decision to go back. She has faced Red Grave; faced the ruined manor. It is time to face much older ghosts.

It is a private matter, and so Eva tells nobody of her intentions. She lets Morrison know she will be out of town on personal business, timeline uncertain; she will give him a call when she’s back. He is free, in the interim, to pass her usual work on to other sources.

For anyone else (because she still hopes, deep down, that her boys will one day come home), she leaves a note on her desk.

Out of town for a while.

Eva re-reads the brief scribble and wonders what else to add before realising there really is nothing more to add. No forwarding address or contact number, because she does not want anyone to find her. Anyone who wants her, can wait until she comes back.

She makes it ten minutes out from the city before she turns back to scribble an address at the bottom of her note.

Just in case.

----

Plane tickets are cheap these days, and she has a passport courtesy of Morrison, but Eva elects to drive. Call her old-fashioned, or even just plain curmudgeonly in her old age (ha), but Eva likes the hum of a good motor much better than the press of noisy crowds.

Besides, she’d need a car at the other end of the flight anyway, where she’s going. She can even call it a vacation if she finds a motel to spend each night in. If not -- she’s slept in a car before and it won’t kill her to do it again, especially when the rental is much more comfortable than any old banger she’s passed a night in before.

Highways turn to country lanes as she veers further and further off the beaten track. The temperature drops, too; winter in the shadow of the Appalachian mountains is nothing to sneeze at. Eva has forgotten a lot of things over the years (too many things), but she remembers that. Funny how events and people slide slowly but surely from her mind but sensory impressions remain: the icy, pinesap-tinged tang of morning air in winter; the crackle of a fire; the warm doughy smell and pillowy softness of homemade dinner rolls.

Become someone else, she’d told her younger son as their world burned around them. Change your name, change yourself, and hide. Not easy, no, nothing like easy -- but possible, for the right price. For the price of giving up who you were before.

Except no bargain is ever so neat and no transaction ever so complete.

[return-to-twisted-wonderland]

🔆anon

Grim made it into the school a while ago. He was a bit late, but he didn’t think that would mean anything much with how great he was. And he was kind of right, they accepted him in, but now he wasn’t sure if Night Raven was the best school he could have gone too.

When he first came in, he was squacked at by a random black bird. It absolutely refused to leave him alone, following him like some siren. The noise only attracted a child who grabbed him and pulled him into a hug. The kid, who Grim now knows is Canis, didn’t listen to any orders he gave, just giving him a hug and calling him “Stone”. He tried to insist he should be called The Great Grim, or at least Grim, but the kid didn’t stop. Though, by sheer luck, the noise of the argument and the continued squawking attracted the schools headmage.

To be honest, the headmage wasn’t much better than Canis. He tried to shoo Grim without a second thought. No matter the explanation, he seemed like he didn’t want to listen. It was only when Canis started whining about keeping “Stone” that Grim was allowed in, and that was visibly because the headmage just didn’t want to deal with the situation and saying no would make the child cry.

With admittance, Grim was given all that he needed, but even that was lacking. The food was good, but without any money to buy his own, he could only eat at the crowded cafeteria during the times it was serving. He was given a broken down dorm called Ramshackle where water dripped through every time there was so much as a drizzle. Even the students and teachers were gossiping how “Crowley could allow a cat in the school.” His whole experience was horrible and he only ended up with two people he could even call close to friends and that’s just because they bonded over a bad situation. Them and Canis who refused to not be around him.

Grim first met Ace and Deuce when Ace decided to mess with him. It was about to turn into a fight until Deuce came in and stopped it. That was the start of their friendship and marked how it would continue on. Even after a disaster.

The first warning sign was when Canis claimed to see a “birdie” who turned from black to red and black. Of course, no one took that seriously. Who knows if it has any meaning now, but that’s just when things started to get weird. Next was Ace getting kicked out of Heartslabyul and crashing in Ramshackle. He complained about how horrible the building was the whole time, but refused to help fix anything. Deuce had to help by being the messenger between Ace and any news from their dorm. The third warning for trouble was when Ace learned he could challenge Riddle for the seat of housewarden. He declared a challenge and immediately failed, but it set even more groundwork.

Finally Grim thought he would be done with Ace taking up space in Ramshackle when Trey said he would help bake a replacement tart for Ace to apologize. He was very much wrong in that thought. They planned to bring a replacement tart during the Unbirthday party, and with it being a party and one where Grim also wanted to go, Canis begged to be let in as well. Trey begrudgingly agreed to let them in as long as they caused no problems, even putting another dormmate, Cater, up to help watching them.

Though, according to fate, a party where a whole dorm, and even a child, is attending, is the perfect time for Housewarden Riddle to go into a freak out that turns into an overblot. There was destruction everywhere. So many people, including Grim, ended up hurt and the excess blot everywhere only made the injuries worse. Everyone in attendance was lucky that it ended to where they could be up and at it by the end of the month.

Right after the overblot, while they were still at the ruins of the party, Grim found a black stone. It smelled lovely, like sweets and flowers, and it would probably would taste good too. But right as he was about to eat it, Canis grabbed it. Grim was done at this point and demanded it back, but that lead to an argument. An argument between him and a three year old. Grim definitely should have gone to a different school. The argument attracted the attention of Ace, Deuce, and Cater. One of which took the rock from him, but he couldn’t really tell who as the headmage busted into the dorm right after claiming someone had ran away, gotten to him, and said there was an emergency. Though, he was a bit late to everything.

Grim should have picked a different school to go to. He just felt drained afterwards. He just took the time the party goers were given for recovery and slept. Though once Grim got back to normal life, Canis started mentioning seeing the same bird, but this time its feathers turned yellow and black. Grim wanted nothing to do with this.

Poor timeline two Grim. I imagine that timeline two Grim (I’ll say 2!Grim) ends up less demanding and annoying than how 1!Grim and Canon Grim are. (1!Grim acts the same way Grim does in canon.) 2!Grim is just gets fed up with everyone. He goes through every overblot and has to deal with ramshackle alone while being bothered by a kid.

At least he didn’t eat the rock.

2!Grim being done with everyone is a mood, but also good on 3y!Canis on keeping the stone away from Grim. But he also fought with a 3 y/o, so that's mildly hilarious.

[luimagines]

The chain and demigod reader walking around a market, wild is looking at new shields and food/ingredients. Hyrule is buying medical supplies. Time is trying to keep everyone together.

Demigod Reader is looking at some pretty trinkets, twi is following her, listening to her every time she picks up a cute or pretty trinket and shows it to him, and the way their eyes brighten up.

Two children end up running over to them, one of them is around 6 while the other is around 4. The older boy holds the hand of the younger one. The older one is wearing clean clothes, but the clothes are obviously meant for playing, with different pattern fabric sewed into rips from playing. His hair is long and is held in a short ponytail, and he's missing a tooth.

"Aw, did you two get separated from your parents? Do you need help?" *Demigod reader asks kneeling down to theri height*

*the older boy looks confused* "mama stop joking, you're my mama!" *He then looks at twi* "and Pa!..... But where are we? We were just at home and now we're in a town!"

*The younger boy gives a smile with his tiny chubby face and laughs*

*Twi and demigod reader quickly look at each other confused with wide eyes and*

(I totally thought that this was going to be that meme where the man buys whatever his wife/girlfriend looks at/touches in the store (with out her knowing of course XD))

Twilight can feel the blood go cold in his veins. Admittedly, he can see the resemblance almost instantly. One has his eyes- the other has the widow's peak by his forehead where his hair parts. He can see Reader almost just as clearly. The younger is clearly her spitting image.

Not wanting to make the children feel unsafe or awkward, he jumps into the little role, not questioning once if he should reconsider this. "Of course! How silly of us. Did you boys find anything exciting? I thought we were all supposed to stick together until we all went back home."

The older boy looks a little guilty. "I'm sorry pa, I know we were suppose to stay close and not wander off.... I found a cool stick?"

"Really? Let me see!" Twilight also gets to the children's level where they more than happily tart showing off their little treasure from their "adventure" away from home.

[scorpio-marionette]

Christmas Cravings

Pairing: Max Phillips x F!reader

Rating: R for Restricted; 18+ ONLY

Warning: Mentions of pregnancy, cravings, snow storms, and breeding; pre-established relationship

A/N: This is inspired by an actual Spanish Bakery in St. Augustine, which is about an hour away from me.

Part of @toomanystoriessolittletime December Writing Challenge

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It shouldn’t have been possible. Afterall, Max is technically dead. The most he can guess is that the biology of vampires is either under researched at best, and at worst grossly assumed and guessed. Regardless, you were pregnant with his child. The usual symptoms were expected to occur. Morning sickness, body aches, fatigue, cravings. What wasn’t expected was just how prominent your appetite would become. Both for food and for him. You’re practically insatiable, and that’s saying something. When Max had turned he was akin to an animal in bed, but you? You are a goddess who seeks that which she desires. Wringing out your pleasure and his as if the world ended that day. You tire him out. He wonders if his vampirism magnifies the hormones your body creates. Again, the lack of knowledge fails him. Luckily this time it isn’t a moment of you jumping his bones to fill you with another child. Rather you’re looking to fulfill a sweet tooth. Though the fact that you have more or less mounted him, bare legs on either side of his hips and your lace clad pussy bearing down on his cotton covered cock doesn’t escape him. Neither does the way you subconsciously grind down onto him as if to just slide him into you for a moment. Max controls himself however. His lady needs a very special pastry after all.

Your request on this very early morning is for a unique pastry that can only be found in the little Spanish Bakery, in the small historical town about an hour away from your shared apartment. You had fallen in love with the sweet yet tart taste of the fruit on the flakey, pastry bed, but it’s difficult to get ahold of it sometimes. The Spanish Bakery only bakes enough for the day. Once they sell out you have to try again tomorrow. One good thing about being woken up at 4 a.m. by your pregnant girlfriend is that Max now has the time to dig out the car, drive to town, and buy the bakery out of your desired treat. One bad thing is that now you’re awake… and you want to go with him… outside… in the snow…

“Absolutely not.”

Max will not have you leaving the house, pregnant with his miracle child, while it’s freezing outside! It’s not safe nor healthy for the baby, or at least that’s what he’s read. You should stay home and do menial exercise. Nowhere does it say you should trek through snow for a midnight snack. But alas, you refuse to take no for an answer. Max may not realize it, but you feel you’ve been cooped up too long. The surprise at having a seemingly impossible pregnancy has made Max cautious. Making him want to keep you safe, but locked away. You want to get out of the house for a little bit. The recent snow storm makes you even more eager to go. The news said there should be about a foot and a half of frozen water piled up outside your door. Why wouldn't you want to go see that?

Your lover argues that him going makes sense because the cold doesn't affect him at all. You argue that you're getting in the car whether he likes it or not. Huffing at your insistence, he hauls you up into his arms and carries you up stairs. At first you think he's going to leave you there. Using his inhuman speed to run to the door. Instead, Max drags out a pair of his socks, sweatpants, and the hoodie he wore last night. He pulls the socks onto your feet. Their size is a bit too big for you. He pulls the pants up your legs. Their elastic ankle cuffs hold your socks in place. He tucks your shirt into the pants to hold it down as well before pulling his hoodie down over it. A wishful thought that his scent will keep you from doing anything more rash. He asks which hat you'd like to wear and you naturally ask for one of his. He makes sure the black woven beanie is secure over your ears before picking you up again and walking you out to the car. Already dressed to play the part of the desperate boyfriend freezing to get his girl a snack.

On the road, you stare out of the window. Some people have opted to leave their Christmas lights on all the time, so you delight your senses in the colorful twinkling lights. As you enter town, you're astounded at the festive feel though most people are still asleep. The window displays have yet to resume their performances but the effort is palpable in their static presence. You long to run from shop to shop to see what they've done with their decor, but one over protective vampire makes you stay in the car.

Pulling into the parking lot behind the bakery, you can see an inviting golden glow among the other darkened store fronts. Max exits after he's sure you won't leave the safety of the vehicle. As he approaches the front door even he is amazed at the warmth that seems to fill him. As if this bakery were magic. He knocks on the door. He shivers a bit when the grandmother opens the door. Using his best apologetic smile, he asks the woman if he can come in. And it's as if his heart had beat again.

What he thought was the front of the shop was actually the back of another. The chocolatier next door actually. The grandmother graciously informed him that the bakery was in fact closed for the day, but that she and her grandchildren have been baking all the usual to take door to door for their neighbors as snow day treats. Max quickly apologized for intruding and explained why he had come. Never one to leave anyone out, the grandmother simply turned around to a tray of freshly made pastries. She pulled out a cake box and promptly filled it with all the pastries on the tray. Max was actually going to tell her that it wasn't necessary to give him all she had, but the woman merely waved him off.

"There's something special about you," she claimed cryptically. "And I have more in the oven."

Thankful, Max takes the box and returns to you. Clamoring in, he presents you with the kind gift from the grandmother. You squeal in delight at the sight of your beloved snack. Much more in the box than you could hope to eat, in a day at least. You throw yourself over the box to smother Max in kisses, but stop before your appetite switches to him. Settling back into your seats, you take a couple pastries as Max starts the car. Once back on the road, you hand Max his treat. You prop your feet up on the dash, much to his displeasure, and enjoy your snack on the way home.

[pbandjesse]

I felt pretty good today. My allergies continue to plague me but I was in a good mood this morning. I didn't sleep amazing, waking up with a very upset stomach in the middle of the night again. But I was able to sleep after that and felt pretty good when my alarm went off.

I got up and got dressed and felt happy. My eyes were hurting and my sinuses were making my ears very closed up. But I was still very excited for the market.

James made the bed and we left together. We would have to come back pretty quick when I realized I forgot my tablet. But it was not a big deal. We stopped for my tablet. And headed to the museum. A pit stop for McDonald's breakfast. And then we went to set up.

And I had a lot of fun! I got lots of hugs and was really happy to see my market friends. Give them updates like how we bought our house. It was a good day.

I would set up. James would help and than stay outside for a bit to collect some forms for insurance from vendors. And I was having a very nice morning.

I would buy some brownies and a chocolate pop tart and then a whole bunch of strawberries. Which were super dark red and lovely.

I wasn't sure how my day was going to go though. I wasn't sure I would sell anything. So I just focused on the craft I brought with me.

I would spend most of the morning catching up on my knitting and I am totally caught up now. And I would work on sewing down my ends from last months square. That still has work to be done but it was nice to have something to focus on.

But I would make sale! I actually did really good today. I sold 8 stuffies and a bunch of stickers and even some prints. I was having a great time. I made my sales goal for the day by 1030. So the rest of the day felt easy and fun.

I would have some great interactions too. People being super kind about loving my designs. Making a deal with a 4 year old after she asked for a stuffie and I told her she has to ask her parents because they cost money. And so she tells me "my daddy has so much money" which was hilarious. And when she came back with her dad a few minutes later and I said hello again, her dad went "again?" And I explained she had said he has so much money and he laughed and seemed flabbergasted and then gave her $20. So I bargained with her and we shook hands very seriously at the end of the transaction which was just the best.

I would also have some lovely conversations with Anne and Ginny and Stan and also Jordan. We would talk for a long time and while we were talking I noticed a man who sails with the downtown sailing center waiting near the market table. And I knew as soon as Jordan left he would come over. And I was absolutely right.

He wasn't weird or anything but he was hitting on me. Asking if I have a man. And I am like yes I have a whole husband! But we would still chat and exchanged Instagrams because he makes tshirts and I like connecting with other small businesses in the city. I have seen him around the market plenty of times. He's hard to miss. He is a young black man in a wheel chair who is a double amputee. His whole deal on Instagram is about overcoming the hardships so you know there's a story there. Maybe he'll tell me sometime. I told him to come chat with me next Saturday before he goes sailing again.

I think it's hard making friends. Both because I mostly just want to be alone. I am mainly not interesting in hanging out. But also that people think I'm flirting with them. I am not trying to!!! I am just friendly! But I am still trying to make those connections.

And I think I did a good job at that today. Making more market friends. I even met a girl who's job is curate Jellycat collections?? What a neat job! She was so sweet. I joked with her that she was 100% my audience and she was like I get that a lot!

Callie would come to the market today. And it was so nice to sit with her for an hour. I shared my strawberries with her and we talked and caught up and discussed camp. There is apparently a meeting on Tuesday night for senior staff to discuss the schedule. I hope that goes well.

I spent most of the last hour drawing on my tablet. I wanted to design a silly logo for the events team. I was just having fun. And then Jesse came through and I got to show him briefly and was just having a nice time.

At 1 I would pack up. I had made a few trips around the market. To say hi to people. To go say hi to James and enjoy the AC for a bit. But once I was totally packed up and everything was in the car (which was a little bit of a struggle, and I would replace the rope handles on my box because the current ones were to short and hurt my hands) I would go sit at the front desk with James and Jordan. And talked for a bit. James went to get their bike off the car and warmed up their lunch. But once they were back and calling for the last tour of the day, I would head home.

Getting home took almost a half hour though because there was a music festival downtown that made me go home in the most bizarre way. It was not fun for me!! If I had known earlier I would have taken the tunnel. People were driving so stupid and someone tried to go around me and I was so mad about it. Almost caused a multiple car accident!! People need to calm down.

When I got home I brought one of my baskets in. To sort and clean up. When James got home later they brought in the rest for me to sort through. But I was a bit tired. And very hungry.

So I made a little lunch. A small frozen pizza because that's the only thing I want for eat for some reason. And spent time just resting on the couch. Sweetp was outside. I trimmed my nails and watched videos and it was a nice afternoon. I never a really slept like I had originally planned. But it was all okay. Just having a nice time.

James would come home and were very sweaty. They would go clean up and then come to lay with me. And we would spend a lot of the afternoon resting together.

But not all of it. James would run to the hardware store. To inquire about ladder rentals and to get fly tape to capture the annoying flies that have come in the house. And while they were gone I would sort my market boxes and then I would work on sewing panels on the dress I got last week. And it actually fits me now so I am very happy. It needs slightly more fixing but I think it's going to be a really great option for the musuem. I am pretty excited to be able to have a place to wear slightly nicer things.

James would make me vegan fish fillets for dinner. And we watched videos together. James would play a video game. And we just enjoyed being together. Talking and making plans. I was feeling really happy.

My allergies started hurting again. I would take a shower and it helped even if my eyes were burning. I would take more meds and they are finally kicking in so I am slightly less unhappy.

I am going to go brush my teeth and get in bed now though. I am hoping to have lots of energy tomorrow. I want to be productive and have fun. So wish me luck. Sleep well everyone. Wash your hands and take care of eachother!!

[invisibleraven]

It's Friday and I actually saw your list early!!!

You deserve the whole world, sweet tarts

Carrie stifles a giggle as she peers around the corner, seeing the guards chase after the vagrant chicken she'd liberated from the stableyard. At least one of them should have a bit of freedom before they met their fate.

And this would be her last chance, so she slipped her cloak over her head and disappeared into the shadows of the garden, through the hidden hole in the wall and made her way into the bustling market.

The air was rich with spices, fruit, coffee blossoms. It smelt like freedom. Everywhere was a cacophony of sound, in may different dialects, arguing over the price of fish, the measure of a bolt of cloth, the weight of a purse. Carrie loved it, loved to take it all in.

These were her people, and before she took the crown, she desperately wanted to know them, not whatever her father's advisors let her know. Not the painted false picture of happiness, but the truth of their struggles, their wishes, hopes, and dreams.

That's why every so often she slipped out of the palace, came into town, and walked amongst them, made notes over which stalls were doing poorly, which establishments were cheating their customers, which merchants looked the other way when the poor and hungry slipped an apple or loaf of bread they had no coin for.

Well that, and for the cute minstrel who wandered the street singing his songs for a bit of gold.

She'd come across Reggie during her third trip out, standing at a corner, loudly crooning a bawdy tale about her errant and long fled mother. Carrie had laughed aloud at it, and Reggie had lit up with delight that someone had enjoyed his song, bowing with a flourish and asking if she had a request.

"I like the one about the Maid of Maleen, do you know it?" she asked.

Reggie beamed, and surprisingly, bent low to kiss her knuckles. "I do, though her famed beauty is nothing compared to yours my blossom."

Carrie had blushed to the roots of her hair, hiding a pleased smile behind her hands as Reggie sang, making eyes at her all the while, and ever since then, every time she managed another sojourn into town, she found him once more.

Today he was beside the fountain, telling tales of daring do to the children that he minded while their parents replenished their wares. She stood back and listened raptly to the stories of knights bold, slain dragons, and dangerous djinn that granted wishes-at a price. Reggie spotted her and winked, but never broke from the story, intent on wowing this wide eyed audience.

Finally the stories were done, the children gathered, and Reggie was all hers. "You're good with them," she said, knocking their shoulders together.

"They're easy to entertain," he replied with a shrug. "Plus the coin isn't bad, even if I'd rather earn it through my songs than my child minding skills. But just a few more weeks, and I'll finally have enough to buy you something worthy of you my blossom."

"I don't need anything from you Reggie," Carrie demurred.

"But you deserve the whole world," Reggie insisted. "I'm no prince, but I can do the right thing and at least offer you a ring when the time comes."

Oh.

Carrie's hand froze in his. She knew that Reggie adored her, he'd said as much after their second meeting, and she confessed she felt the same some time later. But she also knew they were living on borrowed time. She was expected to marry a worthy suitor after she took the crown-some baron or duke if no prince offered himself up. There was no way the nobility would accept Reggie-who was good, kind, and sweet, but poor as dirt with no name or title-as the royal consort.

"Reggie..." she started, but he held a finger up to her lips.

"Please act surprised when I ask," he said with sincerity. "I know it's fast, but when you know..."

"I know," she whispered. "And if I could say yes right now I would."

"Just a few more weeks, I promise."

Carrie made a valiant effort to smile, but she was sure she failed, and the rest of their meeting felt stilted. It was almost a relief to leave him, just to leave the tense awkward feeling behind. But at the last moment she turned and blew him a kiss before slipping into the crowd and swiping at her gathering tears, knowing she would never see him again.

A few weeks later, Carrie was still feeling the sting of heartbreak, haing that she could never go back to Reggie, hating the golden noose sitting atop her head. Her coronation had been grand and lavish, but it had been joyless to Carrie, knowing it doomed her to a life of melancholy without real love.

Now her father was approaching her with letters from suitors, and one who was waiting in the hall.

"Well that's brash of him," Carrie replied. Part of her wanted to refuse him, just for his boldness, but she knew that even if no union formed they could become an ally, so she sighed and rose, letting her father lead her to the hall. "Who is this one?"

"A newer chap, inherited the household of some raj or other, right down to the man's title due to a debt the man owed his father. Bit of a stroke of luck if you ask me," her father said. "He's new to it, so I guess that explains him not knowing conventions well. You can smooth out his rough edges I'm sure."

"We'll see," Carrie replied. "I'm rather fond of rough edges as it happens."

Then as she stepped into the hall, she froze. Because the figure standing there in splendour and finery was a familiar one. Grinning wide with a small ring box in his hands, and his ever present lute on his back.

"Carrie, may I present Reginald Peters."

Reggie gave an overexaggerated sweeping bow, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand while waggling his eyebrows at her. "Told you I wasn't a prince," he murmured when he rose.

"Not far from it though," she replied.

He shrugged. "Not like you were exactly forthright about who you were Your Majesty."

Carrie blushed, but smirked at him. "As I recall, you did promise me the whole world some time ago. Ready to make good on that?"

"Always my blossom," he said, and opened the little box, showing her a truly gorgeous ring, bedecked by pink stones and small pearls. "And my whole life to, if you'll have it."

Carrie blinked away a tear and nodded, smile bursting forth as the ring slid home. "I'll take it."

[mikimeiko]

Day 4 - Vienna (Austria)

The weather is still kinda chilly and grey but it's not raining so we'll count this as a win XD.

I wasn't really ready for most things to be closed on a Sunday, I naively thought that this being the capital things would be different (and to be fair they probably are, we're just not in Milan I guess XD). So I walk to the nearest train station in search for an open tobacconist (can't buy cigarettes fromnthe automatic machines since they don't recognise my id ;_;) and in the process I pass through the Liechtenstein Palace gardens, which are simple but pretty (Liechtenstein remains a presence in this trip XD)

Of course when I got to the innere stadt every single tobacconist was open, so I did a very long deviation for nothing XD

Despite the weather there are A LOT of people around. Everything is very grandiose but feels a little monochromatic in the cloudy weather. My luck runs out and it starts raining again. It starts and stops, mostly light rain but with a couple of downpours.

I eat a random pastry from a backerei and it's so good! Sweet and buttery with a tart jam mixed in that gave it excellent balance. I retreat into a Starbucks to rest and let my feet dry.

Thanks to tumblr user @andiamo-a-totani I went to Hundertwasserhaus and I'm so happy I did because it was BEAUTIFUL. I love when architecture incorporates shapes, colors and ideas from nature <3

It looked like the sky was clearing so I headed back to the center. I love that they decided to convert the Imperial palace into museums and exhibition space, very lovely way of using that kind of building.

The moment I set foot inside the innere stadt it started raining again. Is there a inner city microclimate that I don't know about? XD

I got a wiener wurstel at a sausage stand, choosing kinda randomly from the menu, and I feel like I got the worst item on the menu? (while I was eating I kept looking longingly at the other suasage types grilling). Today in general actually feels like I'm stuck in the worst timeline; every decision I make feels like the one with the worst possible outcome. There's a part of me that wants to give in, go back to my capsule, just watch TV series and go to sleep. But I'm not gonna. Not yet. I have a 24h bus/tram/metro ticket and if nothing else I can still take random transport to random part of the city XD.

(The moment I stepped out of the innere stadt the sky cleared a little bit. That town centre is cursed, CURSED I TELL YOU!)

The SUN is OUT! Everything is beautiful and I can feel the angst evaporating from myself XD

I don't return into the innere stadt JUST IN CASE and instead decide to go check out Schloss Schönbrunn by tram. The route is lovely and the Palace is lovely as well, but I give up the idea of going to see the park behind it when I realize just how big the place is.

I take the metro to go back and to my delight it's actually not underground most of the route. I get down at Stadpark which is a very gorgeous park, and I'm quite happy that I managed to at least pass through it.

I go back to the "film" festival for dinner (I wish there was something similar everywhere I went, noce atmosphere, various foods including local,, no stress about finding a place to eat) and I get the käsespatzle (small dumplings with cheese and fried onion on top) which are insanely good.

It's kinda cold but I don't think I can leave without another watermelon radler (this might be my last chance to drink it after all!)

Tomorrow I'm off to Bratislava and if Hundertwasserhaus has taught me anything is that I'm clearly underprepared for this trip XD so if any of you reading has any recommendations for Bratislava, EVEN VERY TOURISTY RECOMMENDATIONS, please let me know :D

[polkiuu]

2023 Dive Into Aquaplus

After having been into Utawarerumono for well over a decade, and having one foot into Tears to Tiara for the longest of time as well, I decided to finally take the plunge this year to try a variety of Aquaplus' very colorful catalogue.

I got into Utawarerumono a long, long time ago, back when the 2006 anime adaption of it was still airing. At the time, my like of it was mostly superficial. I was still a kid, and I just liked the aesthetics of it. I only started watching it because the name was long and nonsense to me who didn't know a lick of JP at the time. But it stuck with me as it was one of the first few anime I had started watching as it was airing in Japan and subbed. It also introduced me to Suara, who my love for has been anything but superficial.

If it weren't for the 2015 anime adaption of Utawarerumono Itsuwari no Kamen, it may have just stayed as a memory of aesthetics. A few episodes into its airing, I had a strong urge to buy the game, and so I asked for it for Christmas. I was never the same since.

While waiting for the release of Utawarerumono Futari no Hakuoro later in 2016, I got my hands on Tears to Tiara 2 to try and fill the void. I had previously seen the Tears to Tiara anime back in 2009 while it was airing, as I had immediately recognized the art as being similar to Utawarerumono. Looking it up I learned it was from the same company, and Amazuyu had also worked on some of the designs for it as well.

Unfortunately, the game was incredibly difficult for someone like me who is terrible at strategy games, and the writing didn't manage to hook me early on, so I ended up putting the game on hold indefinitely about 10 hours in. At some point in 2017 I picked up the remake of the first game, Tears to Tiara Kakan no Daichi, and really loved it. It still wouldn't be until this year though that I fully threw myself into the Tears to Tiara franchise.

Fast forward to 2023, through various Utaware phases and burnouts, and the release of Monochrome Mobius: Rights and Wrongs Forgotten along with the 3rd anniversary event in the Utawarerumono Lost Frag mobile game re-igniting my mood for the series at the tail end of 2022, I finally decide that this year is the time to make due on my desire to play more Aquaplus titles.

Tears to Tiara II: Heir of the Overlord

Seven years after my first attempt, I finally went back to this in January and finally completed it. My issues from my first attempt never really went away, however the writing managed to hook me around chapter 5, and I had a lot more enjoyment with the OST and various small things now that I had actually experienced the first game, and not just the anime. The uses of Until and Tears to Tiara 凱歌 will live in my head rent free until the end of time.

Tarte became not only my favorite TtT character, but maybe even my #1 Aquaplus favorite. ああっ女神さまっ…

This game got me to start paying attention to Honjou Tatami.

The nostalgia for the first TtT game wrecked me hard and I ended up replaying it right after.

Tears to Tiara: Kakan no Daichi

我が友よ

My Tears to Tiara mood was unstoppable, and so I finally bought its fandisc.

Tears to Tiara Gaiden - Avalon no Nazo

Nothing could have prepared me for the Lidia content in this game or the dragon stage straight from the ninth level of hell.

I still haven't recovered from the ending and the double whammy of realizing what the start of the OP is. The bastards really did it twice.

After this I went on a spree and bought all the LEs and the novels and manga... it is criminal how little supplementary material the games have, and how 2 has none. I have nothing to go on now but copium and offering my life to Marui Takeshi.

Tears to Tiara Gaiden 2 and Tears to Tiara 3 when.

Next, I played my first dating sim in 8~9 years, and a more obscure one at that.

Routes

You don't know what you're getting into until you've already beaten this game.

One of the more unique things I've experienced, to the point I don't know how to talk about it without spoiling it, and it is definitely a game best played blind. Quite possibly the most unique script-writing I've seen. The way the two scenario writers duties were split is one of the best uses of multiple writers that I've seen in a game.

The voice acting in this game is a masterpiece.

One thing I really love about both Routes and Tears to Tiara is the kind outlook on life they have.

I started this just before the Dungeon Travelers 2 series re-release and still have not touched those.

Next, I somehow ended up on one of their most famous.

White Album 2 ~Introductory Chapter~

Short, but emotionally loaded. After All ~Tsudzuru Omoi~ changed me as a person.

I started this one just a few days before the first White Album game's re-release because of course I did.

White Album 2 ~Closing Chapter~

One very charged, and very long work. I had to sit on it for quite a while after. I also binged all its supplemental material.

I haven't had a love/hate relationship with something this strong since, well, Inuyasha. You have issues, Maruto.

Kazusa Normal was a great route.

WHITE ALBUMの季節はまだまだこれからだよ。

White Album ~Tsuzurareru Fuyu no Omoide~

A little underwhelming, honestly. The way the gameplay and routes are structured makes the writing very fragmented. Had some nice moments, but overall I enjoyed the writing of Sayoko's route most, as it feels most coherent, likely due to it being added into the 2010 remake.

Despite the fragmented writing, I did like many of the heroines quite a bit.

White Album has been stuck in my head for months, and now the season for it is upon us...

And what would be most fitting to follow it up with another winter-related game, if not...

Tenshi no Inai 12-gatsu

It might be time to lay off the depresso games for a bit, as I had a hard time getting into this one. In a weird way it reminded me a lot of how screwed up my own mentality was when I was younger, and it's not something I cared to remember. I suppose it gets points for realistically depicting the unstable nature of the adolescent mind.

It had some interesting underlying themes, and I don't dislike the message of it, but I was unable to feel any investment in the heroines. I may have liked it more if the characters were a little more fleshed out.

I've only just beaten it, so I need to sit on my thoughts for it a little longer.

And then a special mention to none other than:

Utawarerumono Lost Frag

I finally picked this back up in November 2022, during it's 3rd anniversary event when they added Raikou. It's not every day you get an entire event dedicated to your only OTP in the series.

I got especially into it after my TtT marathon, and I've read most events, various character stories and a little of the main story. I always wanted to give it another chance, and I'm glad to have finally found something to pull me back into it. I really enjoy what it offers, from the expansions of various Utaware lore, to doing things only a social game really can. The event writing is out of this world.

It gave me 2 of the top 3 things I wanted to see for 7 years from the series now and I can only pray it delivers on the last someday.

Final thoughts

I've had a lot of Aquaplus vocal tracks in my library for many years, and its fun to go through their backlog and realize what songs are from what, and which ones I had that I didn't even realize were from Aquaplus games. And since I've followed Suara since 2006, making the connection between her discography and where her non-utaware songs are from has been a blast so far.

I look forward to diving further in in 2024. I want to give their other famous series like Dungeon Travelers and ToHeart a shot. Comic Party is still waiting on my shelf, as well.

Going through different time periods with their artists is a really fun adventure from an artist's perspective. It's fun to see where they've improved, what habits they've kept, the areas where they adjust things to be more modern, and how their painting evolves. For a long time I only knew Amazuyu by name, but now it's fun to glance at an artwork and be like "Oh, so and so drew this around xxxx year."

I want to see another game with Tatami as the main artist...

I also recently realized the only things I've finished since March have been various Aquaplus fanarts (I have drawn other things, just not finished...) Something unlocked in my brain and I'm enjoying drawing again to an extent, and for that I'm glad.

[nugulover69]

Go-onger vs gekiranger movie livewatch notes (spoilers for all of gekiranger btw)

-Gou lost Bae in India and he does not care nor does anyone else care. that fly cured you of your werewolf disease you ungrateful bitch

-Hant hit on Miki when she would visit the curry shop he worked at. milf liker Hant

-The Engines and Jan talk in the same cutesy baby language incroyable

-Jan is immediately willing to trade Long's Ball Prison in exchange for the baddies not zapping Speedor. Sosuke has done worse things to Speedor but Jan's dainty kitty heart doesn't need to know that

-Jan scaling a building like spoider man

-Retsu and Gou playing the piano with their toes. big win for the Fukami liking feet freaks

-The baddies being able to hammer Long's Ball Prison into an Engine Soul shape is so concerning. why is it so malleable. i know its for the funny but still

-Ken's horndog behavior for girl yellows is mostly Not Funny Didn't Laugh but him giving Saki a ginkgo leaf with a smile drawn on it was cute

-Ran poking Gunpei's cheek also very cute. i too wish i could do that

-Jan being the reasonable one opposite Sosuke is so WeirdChamp. feral turned domesticated cat vs unneutered batshit orange tomcat

-Go on Wings already know beast fist because of course they do

-There are also plentiful Renn and Hant feet shots. toku foot perverts rejoice

-POV you are just a little upside down hater

-Actually I think teaching beast fist to the go ongers is a dangerous idea. they should NOT have this power they WILL do stupid shenanigans with them

-Sosuke getting his geki powers not though training but by being really passionate about saving Speedor. they would be so yaoi if Speedor wasn't a sentient toy car

-Incredible Blueisms on display here

-THE LONG IS OUT I REPEAT THE LONG IS OUT. WOW IT WAS THAT EASY HUH

-Go on Wings trained under Gorie Yen specifically what is this lore

-Bruh it was literally that easy to revive Leo and Mele lmao that doesn't cheapen their deaths at all

-Oh but they're going to perma super hell after this aight sure

-2 minute roll call babeyyyyyy

-Long's bipedal hydra form is so silly looking. tho i guess anything would be a downgrade compared to a horse hydra

-Bae is back from India (in a turban) no thanks to WORST FRIEND EVER GOU

-God the go on mechs are so ugly

-"Engine beast grand prix" sounds like a wild mario kart track

-Jan's hair is very long and pwetty

-Unhand him you purple furry

-Just as well Natsume's favorite food is egg tarts bc it seems Renn canonically cannot cook anything that isn't egg based. also Gunpei being so proud of buying the eggs ough kawaii doggy

-Jan doing Bomper's "bom bom!" ahhhhhhhh kitty

-Genki reds genki redding

-Oh neat they included some bonus live event footage. G3 princess rap and engine formation rap goated

-LMAO THERE'S A PREVIEW FOR KR DECADE HERE? also shinkenger. wow 09 sure was a while ago huh. don't like the passage of time much

Closing thots: cute lil movie! nothing particularly amazing or funny but the contrast between "competent and sensible people" gekis and "heads full of sawdust" go ongers was amusing enough. i would say that bringing Leo and Mele back from the dead AND releasing Long from his Ball Prison kinda cheapened the ending to geki but man. its sentai it ain't that serious lol

6/10 not enough genki red shenanigans for my liking. maybe Jan and Sosuke should have kissed a lil idk

[gildalilli]

Found the opening to a fic I wrote and never finished in 2020.

Aziraphale is sought out by a Paranormal Investigator who is attempting to find out why the hell this corner of Soho is so weird.

I genuinely do not remember if the plot was a jealousy plot or a 'capturing crowley' plot. dfghjkl

“Mr Fell?”

Aziraphale didn’t look up from the Bible he was pretending to read.

“I’m afraid I’m on my lunch break,” he said, “Terribly sorry, I must have forgotten the sign. I’m sure if you come back in half an hour, I will be able to help you with your inquiry.”

Th angel Aziraphale had no such plans. In fact, some unfortunate customers may have found out that if they were to return in half an hour, the shop would have closed early for no specified reason, even if it was 1pm on a Tuesday. That was the thing with running a bookshop: people seemed to want to buy things. It was terribly inconvenient.

Aziraphale turned a page of his Bible to add verisimilitude. Customers hated being ignored, and it was passive enough to avoid confrontation. Most of the time they would take their leave, or else do a polite lap of the shelves to justify coming in. An extortionately priced volume would miraculously find its way into their hands. They'd balk, give a polite half smile to Aziraphale, and inch their way out. The more self-conscious ones made a little show of touching stacks with their fingertips in a desperate attempt to indicate they were not in fact too poor to shop here, they just happened to change their mind after looking at that single price tag, and promptly exit as they remembered that they left the iron on at home. Worked like a charm most of the time.

Most of the time.

“Oh, no, you misunderstand, Mr Fell, I’m not here to buy anything.”

Aziraphale looked up to see a bearded man in his thirties peering around the shop. Specifically, trying to peer into the back room. He quickly shifted his gaze when he realized he was being watched.

“Yes, well, be that as it may, I’ve been taking stock of the shelves all morning and as you can see, it is not light work.” Aziraphale said. “I’m sure it can wait until we’re open.”

“Listen, Mr. Fell, I just wanted to ask you about the history of this place,” said the man, “I’m doing some research on some… local phenomena and I’ve been told you have been the owner for as long as anyone around Soho can remember, you might be able to help answer some of my questions over coffee.”

Aziraphale hated to admit it but he was intrigued. He didn’t mind the way the man seemed to skirt around the specifics of his research, but it seemed best not to push.

“Here’s my card, please don’t hesitate to get in contact if you change your mind. I’ll get out of your hair.”

The man slid a white business card in Aziraphale’s direction before smiling and taking his leave.

Aziraphale didn’t have a chance to look at it as a significantly taller, slinkier man shimmied past the exiting stranger, holding a while box and brown paper bag.

“They didn’t have any Portuguese tarts left, got you a bit of everything in case you were in the mood for something specific,” he said without greeting, plonking the box on the counter, before disappearing into the back room where the clinking of glass suggested that the contents of the brown paper bag was about to be decanted into some vintage crystal.

“Better luck on the Sauv Blanc, though; managed to track down that one we had at the gallery in ’93,” said Crowley emerged holding two glasses of white, thrusting one in the general direction of Aziraphale.

“What’s that?” asked the demon, glancing from Aziraphale’s frown down to the little white card in his hand.

“Left by the young man you passed on your way in,” said Aziraphale. He handed the card over and took a rather large sip of wine as he did so. Crowley raised his eyebrows.

“’Vincent Halla, Paranormal investigator’,” he read aloud, a grin spreading across his face. “Haunting rumour backfire, did it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, he’s asked me for coffee.”

“He what?”

“Said he wants to know about the history of Soho.”

“’History’ my arse. There’s something supernatural he wants to investigate and that something is dressed in a beige overcoat chugging white wine.”

“Chuggin- I don’t chug,” blustered the Angel, who was met with a skeptical look from Crowley, “I don’t chug, I savour.”

“If that is savouring, you’re savouring it down at an awfully appreciative speed.”

“I’m just… I’m afraid. Do you think they’ve noticed the miracles? Maybe I should go, just to smooth things over.”

Crowley gave him a strange look and changed the topic.