#she does the thing i do where i lean on my shorter siblings shoulders just to mess w them

[cryptidflavored-archived-blog]

@kinqofcandy @blklemillion this is just a concept doodle but i drew older satsuki. i based her off the red eyed tree frog so she’s a colorful baby and is also the tallest in her family being 5′5

[scoobydoo-ghoulschool]

Harringrove Week Day 1

June 24th: Song of the Day, 80's Version (I Wanna Dance With Somebody) Fic + Mood board

Chase My Blues Away (Rated Teen and Up)

Steve’s night started out simple. Really all he’d been trying to do was fulfill a favor.

Or okay- So maybe Henderson had had a last minute date for homecoming, and he was too embarrassed to have his mom drive him, and it’s not like Steve would leave him hanging like that. You save a kid from interdimensional monsters a half a dozen times, you have to take him to homecoming if he somehow manages to get a date.

So, a favor, and some insatiable curiosity about this new girl Jenny.

It was really simple when Steve thought about it like that.

If he didn’t factor in the rest of the night.

“You can’t leave,” Dustin hissed from the backseat, throwing a glance over his shoulder where Jenny was already getting out of the car. She was cute, in like a high school kind of way, with a high pony and the biggest shimmery teal dress Steve had ever seen.

“What do you mean I can’t leave, I’m not hanging around the high school parking lot dude. That’s creepy. That would make me creepy,” he insisted, because alright, he’d resigned himself to the fact one of his friends was a good 4 years younger than him. So what? No big deal.

But being two years out of high school meant hanging out in a school parking lot was a total no go.

“What if it’s lame! What if the dance is so bad we have to leave immediately? And then I think there’s like an after party and if I get invited I have to be able to go. I need this,” Dustin pleaded, before turning to send a reassuring smile in his confused date's direction.

Steve looked back at him hard. He would not break. Not this time. He had Top Gun on tape back at his apartment, with an unpopped bag of popcorn, and an entire glistening package of Twizzlers. He was going to enjoy himself, alone, at home. He was not-

“Alright, so I’ll see you in a bit. Thanks Steve!” Dustin thanked him quickly before sliding out of the back seat. It was as the door slammed that Steve realized what exactly he’d done.

“Every time. How does he do it every time?” Steve marveled, half impressed and half ready to roll down the window and tell Jenny about a funny little song from the Never Ending Story.

Instead, he went and parked his car.

He reclined the seat with a sigh, and tried not to think about how his lower back had been acting up. He was 20, he was fine, really, he just needed to pop it right once and then-

He heard the roar of the engine before he saw the Camaro pull up. The rumble of it sat low in his stomach, causing an instant reaction as he sat up in the reclined seat.

He could see Max Mayfield halfway out of the passenger door already, before the car had even had a chance to stop. She’d gone for something more casual than Jenny, in a shorter, less puffy bright blue dress. It looked nice.

As the car came to a screeching halt, she shouted something, before slamming the door shut. She hadn’t got a half step away, when the window rolled down, and she stopped to turn back to it. There was a pause as the driver spoke.

In an instant her demeanor softened, as she leaned back over to the window to reply. For a moment Steve’s vision was obscured, and he watched the tinted windows of the Camaro thoughtfully. After a moment, Max stepped away with a nod and an eye roll, and gave a slightly enthusiastic wave goodbye. Which was saying something for Max.

At one point Steve would have been a little freaked by an emotional turnaround like that. But he’d seen Nancy and Mike go from being at each other's throats one second to, exchanging tearful ‘I love you’s’ the next. Not to mention Robin and her three younger brothers. It was just a sibling thing. You kind of had to have one to get it.

He understood enough now to know that whatever Max and Billy had going on, it was okay.

Steve was just about ready to lay himself back down, when he noticed something odd. The Camaro wasn’t pulling out of the parking lot. It instead idled for a while, before smoothly rolling itself further out to an open space, settling into a spot just down the aisle from Steve.

He blinked. Turned back to the wheel of his car, and tried to think.

He hadn’t spoken to Billy Hargrove since... Oh God, it couldn’t have been Christmas? No, he’d tried to talk to him over the summer too. A few times actually. 

It’s just- okay, so the guy had been an asshole before. And then he died, and honestly? It had sucked. Like a lot. More than Steve was willing to put thought into. But then it turned out, no, that hadn’t been Billy, but instead some type of Mind Flayer clone. And then actual, living, breathing William Hargrove was stuck in the Upside Down for over a year.

And then through another, frankly insane turn of events he ended up kicking some ass, saving some more lives, and then he was just… back. Back in Hawkins, working at Pete’s auto shop a couple months later. Just- alive. Right across the parking lot from Steve’s own car.

Just across the parking lot, and exiting his car, like it was normal to be a ghost one moment and then not the next.

Steve watched as he pulled a carton of cigarettes from his back pocket. The street lamps above him cast a weak, halo like glow above him, and Steve caught himself from letting out a soft gasp. 

He really needed to get a grip.

Without a second thought, because if he let himself think he wasn’t going to move, he was out of the car, keys jingling in hand. Billy barely glanced up as he made his way the yard or so across the lot.

“Harrington,” Billy intoned, tapping out a cigarette from the carton. He was all casual lines, and easy expressions. Steve envied that, always had.

“You don’t seem surprised to see me,” he said, coming to stand a few feet away. A comfortable distance, just in reach.

“I saw you when I pulled in. Still Henderson’s chauffeur?” Billy asked, grabbing a Bic lighter from his other pocket. He flicked it, once, twice, as Steve’s eyes tracked him.

“He had a date,” he said in explanation, and Billy nodded his head. Steve wasn’t sure he actually understood or if he just didn’t care enough. It was hard to tell with Billy sometimes.

He was dressed in an old Van Halen T-shirt, loose enough to be considered a V-neck, and a ripped pair of work jeans. Steve felt cold just looking at him.

“It’s 60 degrees out man, what’re you doing in a shirt like that?” He said it without thought, gaze drawn to the dip in the shirt where Billy’s still intact St. Christopher medallion hung.

“Everything feels warmer. Up here,” Billy said, too casual as he took a drag of the now lit cigarette.

“Right,” Steve said, frowning down at his shoes. He couldn’t help the second glance up though.

His hair was still growing back, curling just below his earlobes now. It was nice looking, but Steve still missed what it had been. A small, very quiet part of him was glad Billy hadn’t decided to just keep it short.

“Mind if I share?”

Billy’s eyebrows rose, but he pulled the cigarette from his lips and held it out. Steve took it slowly, watching as Billy let out a stream of smoke. It spilled out into the air like a wave. Undulating and impermanent.

“How have you- how’s work?” Steve asked, taking a step to the side to lean against another empty car. His hand shook as he put the cigarette to his lips.

Billy watched him, eyes narrowed, and Steve had to stop himself from coughing on the inhale. Billy turned away from him before answering.

“I’m not doing fucking small talk, Steve. What do you want?”

Steve did cough this time, smoke pouring from his nose, but he managed to keep ahold of the cigarette. He kept it pinched between his fingers, as he wiped his other hand across his mouth.

“I just- I was wondering,” Steve finished lamely, and Billy watched silently. 

Finally, he held his hand out for the last of the cigarette, and Steve handed it over gladly.

“Work’s fine, it’s money in the bank. What more could I ask for?” Billy said with a shrug, a little biting, as he puffed moodily on his returned cig.

“Cool. That’s… good,” Steve said, his lips forming a thin line as he nodded awkwardly.

“Look Billy, about Christmas-”

“Yeah, definitely not talking about that,” Billy cut him off quickly, dropping the cigarette, finally at the end of its life. He brought his foot down on it and ground it into the asphalt, before making a move for his car door.

“Okay, wait, I didn’t mean to-”

And he hadn’t meant to. Back in December, he hadn’t meant to corner Billy Hargrove at a reunion Christmas party and kiss him.

He’d gotten drunk. Like the kind of drunk he hadn’t got since his keg king days, and that was always a mistake. It had been out at Hopper’s new place, and the atmosphere had been warm and inviting. He’d lost control a little bit. 

He didn’t regret it. But he did regret how he did it.

“I’ve heard that one before,” Billy snapped, stopping his hand, letting it rest on the door handle to the Camaro. He wouldn’t turn around.

“Well you haven’t exactly let me get further than that,” Steve said, a little exasperated, even if he didn’t really have the right to be.

He watched Billy’s back, the gradual rise and fall of his shoulders with each breath. Even in the chill air of early October, he looked solid, unwavering.

“Was it a pity kiss?” 

The question knocked Steve back a little. Billy turned just enough to look at his face, eyes hard, questioning.

“What no-?”

“Then stop fucking apologizing. It was one kiss, we can be grown ups about it can’t we?” Billy questioned, finally turning back around, crossing his arms defensively in front of himself.

Steve nodded, feeling his hands shake, even stuffed deep into his pockets. He had to finish this time. He couldn’t let another 8 months pass by without telling him.

“I didn’t mean to… But I did want to.”

Billy blinked back at him, his lips in their natural pout, parting just slightly.

“It’s been months,” Billy said, after a moment, eyebrows drawn together, a little disbelieving. Steve moved closer, feeling more confident.

“I know.”

“Whoever said you had game was a God Damn liar man,” Billy muttered, letting his head sink down to his chest, as he ran a hand over the curling hair at his neck.  

Steve couldn’t help but laugh, just a little, in relief, maybe, but also because none of this sounded like a rejection. Instead of pushing it again, Steve stepped over into Billy’s space to lean against the Camaro along with him. Billy’s breath caught for just a moment, before relaxing.

They listened quietly to the music pouring from the open gym doors.

When the soft, high voice of Whitney drifted out, Steve let his head tilt in its direction.

“Still into chick music huh, Harrington?” Billy asked, and Steve couldn’t help but roll his eyes, feeling the draw to continue this familiar fight of theirs.

“The Bangles are unisex. Just because they’re an all girls band does not make them chick music,” Steve muttered, not actually feeling too annoyed as he caught sight of Billy’s smirk.

“Houston’s got nice pipes, I’ll give her that,” Billy shrugged, letting his crossed arms fall to his sides, one more barrier broken between them.

“Yeah, it’s a good song. It’s kind of weird though,” Steve admitted, as the poppy music continued to play through the darkened night around them.

“The lyrics can’t be that confusing even for you.”

“No. No it’s, it sounds really upbeat but- ya know, it’s meant to be wistful. I guess, I don’t know. I get it though,” Steve said, stuffing his hands into his Jean pockets feeling suddenly awkward and unsure.

“You wanna dance with somebody?” Billy asked cheekily, as Whitney repeated her own refrain.

Oh, I wanna dance with somebody

I wanna feel the heat with somebody…

“Yeah, I would,” Steve said, looking up at the sky, and the stars winking into existence there.

“Then what am I, chopped liver?”

At first Steve scoffed, a little taken off guard. It was only when he turned to look at Billy’s reaction, that he saw that he was serious.

“I’m not- I’m not dancing with you in the middle of a parking lot.”

“Who’s gonna see?” Billy asked, challenging, and childishly hopeful all at once. Steve let his lips part, unsure what would come out of his mouth next.

I need a man who will take a chance…

“Alright, okay. All I know how to do is sway, so…” Steve said, a little breathless. 

Billy moved forward first, to rest his hands at Steve's hips, his grip firm, solid. Steve let out a soft breath, watched as Billy's eyes tracked the way his lips parted slightly with it. Carefully, Steve looped his arms around Billy's neck, fingers latching into the loose, soft fabric of his T-shirt.

They began to sway, feet inching around one another, the dim lighting of the parking lot a blanket of safety. He could feel Billy's heartbeat against his chest this close, a steady thrum, something undeniable about it. The heat of him, the feel of him was intoxicating.

So when the night falls, my lonely heart calls…

“Billy…” the name fell from his lips like a prayer, and Billy’s eyes locked with his, the barest hint of a smirk on his lips.

“You talk too much Harrington,” Billy leaned in then, eyes partly lidded, but not all the way closed. Steve met him halfway, over eager, but when their lips finally met again, after all these months it sent an immediate shock of heat through him. 

He tilted his head to deepen it, and Billy lifted one of his hands to grasp the back of his neck, pulling him in until they were tipped back against the Camaro together. When Steve let his tongue run a tentative trail across Billy's lower lip he was quickly granted entry, the heat and slick overwhelming.

The moan that followed shocked him, mostly because it hadn't come from him.

“See what acting like adults gets you,” Billy breathed against his mouth, hot and a little damp. Steve could only nod for a moment, a husky laugh on his lips.

“I’ll have to try it more often.

“Somebody, Somebody ooh. To hold me in his arms,” Billy sang faintly, along with the song, and Steve couldn’t help but press a kiss to the other boy's temple. 

“You know I think this might be my favorite song now,” he said, pulling back, pushing aside a damp curl from Billy’s forehead.

“You and your chick music man,” Billy said with an eye roll, but he was grinning, cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

“Hey. Whitney’s universal,” Steve said, letting his head fall into the crook of Billy’s neck, pressing a line of kisses up to his jaw. 

“Yeah, okay, Whitney’s universal,” Billy said airily, but his hand had found a place in Steve’s back pocket and he gave his ass a squeeze at the same time. Steve felt himself grinning, as he sucked a dark bruise into the soft skin of Billy’s throat.

Don'tcha wanna dance with me baby

Dontcha wanna dance with me boy…

I had a blast writing this, and thanks so much to @lazybakerart for putting together the prompts for this week!!

[shivada-jade]

codename: vind

older sibling!reader

characters: diluc, kaeya ➡ mentions: adelinde, crepus, la signora warning(s): alcohol consumption, swearing, and because for some reason, older siblings tend to be shorter than younger siblings. iDK WHY but ugh, yeah you're shorter than diluc and kaeya bc you're the older sibling. ik, i hate it too

like, i wanna be a tall 6'2 woman

diluc's 5'10 so u can still be tall in the story.. just not 5'11 😢 sorry over 5'10 folks

➡ WRITTEN BEFORE 2.1 so uhh :D

notes: platonic w diluc and kaeya, duh bc ur the older sibling. sibling love!!! sibling love !! woop woop !

"Dad, I'm home!" You bellow out to the house, waving a polite hello to Adelinde who looked shocked to see you. You kick off your shoes and slide your way to the long table in the living room, swiftly grabbing an apple before heading upstairs.

Your hands graze the railings and make your way up to find your dad. Upon reaching the last flight of steps, you were suspicious with how the place was very quiet. Granted, your younger brothers are now adults, but it still felt too quiet. Maybe you expected to see your brothers playing a game of chess, maybe bickering and fencing. You were hoping to see your family after being away.

You were a part of the Fatui under the Mondstadt branch. It was and at the same time wasn't a choice to be roped into the Fatui. You got roped into the wrong group of friends and found yourself blackmailed by the infamous group.

You didn't want to join. You didn't want any of it. You've been disconnected from the world. Wiped out from the face of Earth. No one gave information to you, you couldn't learn anything about what's happening currently. The most you could do was send letters, but even those were difficult to send out. You had to do it in secrecy or you'd be in trouble.

Love, the better sibling,

[Y/N]

Or another common send off is:

Please write back soon,

[Y/N]

And your family never failed to send back letters. They asked what you're doing, where you are and how are you, still you never told them your occupation, fearful of what they would think and where your loyalties lie, so you told them you were working under an adventurer.

It's for the greater good. You remember trying to convince yourself.

You're a horrible person.

You were sixteen then. Your younger brothers were twelve. It's been 10 long years since you last saw them, and 6 years since you last received a letter back. You miss them dearly. You often wondered what sorts of adventures they did without you.

But why are you wondering about this? You knew what they did: you knew everything that happened.

You're living under a heavy burden.

"Dad?" You call out again. Maids and wine makers look aghast when they see you, and they're on the verge of fainting when you call out to your father.

Stop the act.

It's strange how the letters were suddenly cut off. The last letter you received was from Kaeya, telling you how you needed to come home straight away. You tried to, but the Fatui prevented you from doing so. A lady called La Signora supervised you directly to make sure you didn't leave.

You know...

Adelinde brushes the dust off her uniform and hurries up the stairs to catch up to you, "Dear, is that you [Y/N?]"

"Did you forget me that easily? I'm offended Miss Adelinde," you chided, but the teasing look in your eyes give Adelinde relief to know you aren't actually offended. "Miss, where's dad?"

You're sickening.

Adelinde takes one look at you and squeezes your shoulders with a smile, "I'm afraid that's not for me to say. Master Diluc should be able to-"

"Oh, where's Diluc and Kaeya?" You ponder, and the corners of your lips curl upwards. "Those two were always attached to the hip. Where are they now? Horseback riding at the vineyard? Ha! I-"

You glance at Adelinde's watery eyes and stop your babbling. "What's wrong Miss Adelinde?" You reach for her hands on your shoulders and hold them. "Ah, has father been making you work too hard? I can request him to lessen your load."

Adelinde shakes her head no. "You don't have a clue, do you? Oh," she sighs. "Please, rest yourself by the fireplace. I'll prepare tea for you." She rests her hands back at her side and scurries to the kitchen.

You frown, unsure why she's jumpy, but you follow her request and sit by the fireplace. The crackle of the fire contrasts the tense air you feel when maids brush past you, offering tea Adelinde made. You thank them, gently blowing on the drink.

After taking a sip, you place it down with a pinky to lessen the noise it makes on the table. You hear the door open, and the choruses of maids greeting someone.

"Welcome home, Master Diluc," you hear and other voices saying, "We've prepared a meal for you and your sibling, would you like to rest yourself?"

You peek from your chair, he obviously hadn't realized you yet.

Diluc's lips make a thin line and shrugs off his jacket, "Why is Kaeya visiting. Isn't he supposed to do his knightly duties?"

You have no clue why he says it like that. The venom in his voice sends a shiver down your spine. You decide this is your cue to give him a warm welcome. You stand from your seat, and open your arms in a grand gesture and waltz to your brother. "Diluc! It's been a while huh?"

You clearly see him tense hearing your voice. His head snapped to your direction with his mouth parted. The maids respectively take their leave, bowing before they do so.

Diluc looks you up and down, still not believing you're there, like you're just his imagination. His hand slowly reaches out to you as if you're a dream.

Your feet lead you closer and you grasp him tightly in an embrace.

He freezes, but slowly relaxes in your hug, reluctantly bringing up his own arms to wrap around you. You feel his grip tightening, and you feel his shake out silent sobs. His face buries in your neck, letting tears fall on your clothes.

You soothe his back, and press a kiss on his hair. "I'm home, Diluc."

He trembles, pushing himself away to look at you clearly. Why hadn't you come home earlier? He wanted to vent, he wanted to yell, shout, he wanted to know how much he missed you in your absence.

He clears his throat and coughs in his fist. "You should have told me about your arrival," he adjusts the gloves on his hands, and looks to the floor like he did when he admitted he accidentally broke your toy when you were 10.

After these years, he still looks up to you as his older sibling. Not a thing has changed.

But you couldn't help but notice one thing. You knew Diluc and Kaeya had matured, you knew they would grow taller, but shit, now Diluc's taller than you.

"I sent a letter a month ago," you began. "It should have been sent to your office in the Favonius Headquarters? That's where I send my mail after you told me about your promotion to Cavalry Captain."

You squish his cheeks with both your hands. "Because I know you're a workaholic and only respond to letters that mean business, so that's where I sent it off to. You never write back, neither does Kaeya," you pause, thinking for a moment. "Neither does dad. Tell me he hasn't gotten sick that he couldn't respond to my letters."

Diluc lifts your hands off his face and frowns. He doesn't know how to break the news to you- not when you look so excited to be home and tell of your adventures to your family, so he asks, "Did you eat yet?"

You note the frown on his face. "'What's got you grumpy," you prod. "I need to find dad first. Told him in the first letter I gave him, I'd give the first gem I find."

Diluc watches you leave him to go to Crepus' room on the second floor. He hears the thuds on the floor and the opening of the door, but does nothing to stop you. You left with a smile, and you come back confused.

"Why is dad's room empty?"

How cruel.

...

Kaeya hums, passing by Flora's shop and purchasing a Calla Lily for the sake of it. He is well aware of the Fatui that stand by corners. Whispers of the wind give him intel, and so does alcohol apparently. He leans on a wall right outside Angel's Share, watching two Fatui members drink some of the tavern's strongest alcohol, imported from Snezhnaya.

"That damn," the one with the red and black mask hiccups, lifting a mug with foam overflowing. "Damn brat's gonna snitch on us to the Knights- *hiCC* boss lady wou- *HicC* would have our heads!"

Thankfully, their more responsible Fatui friend takes the mug and switches it with their drink, water. "You're the one who let Vindicta out of your sight when you know their frequencies to escape. This is all on you, buckaroo."

One of the Fatui escaped? How peculiar.

Kaeya hums, in steady strides he shows himself to the Fatui and takes a seat from another table and sits in front of the two. "My, my, my. If it isn't the wonderful Fatui," he divuldges. He twirls his Calla Lily around his fingers, amused with the Fatui's reactions.

Their mouths drop, knowing who he is and they hastily clean themselves up by sitting straight and wiping away the alcohol from their faces. "Good evening, sir."

"Evening to you too," he places the flower behind the person's ear, flustering them. "Well? Drink up. Everything you order will be on me."

The Fatui look at each other, skeptical with Kaeya's kindness, but the drunken one accepts the offer. Kaeya celebrates in the inside as he slowly gains Fatui intel.

Though, the second Fatui whom he dubbed the "Responsible One," took a while for them to take a sip. Turns out, they couldn't handle alcohol, that's why they avoided drinking it.

"So, my dear friends," he slides a coin on the table and stares both of them down. "A mora for your thoughts? I couldn't help but notice the tense of your shoulders when you first arrived here."

Responsible One raises their mug drunkenly, and gives a pointed look, "You... you know too much. How?..." They stare at their friend and whisper shout, "Don't tell him about Vind or-" They fail to continue their sentence and pass out on the table.

Kaeya feigns a surprised face and looks at Fatui number 2, "Who exactly is Vind? I'm sure you don't mean the storm watcher up at the cliff." He coats his voice with sugar, and it seems Fatui friend fell for his kindness.

"The damn brat," they spit out before hiccupping again. "Recruited them, fed them, saw potential, gave a home, and they escaped."

Kaeya nods and pushes another bottle of wine to the Fatui's direction, urging them to continue.

"Was supposed to be one of the Agents to spy on the *hiCc* to spy on the Ragnvindr family, because *HicC* Vind was one of the best there is. They were about to be promoted Harbinger after an assignment *hiCCUpp* but then Big Boss Lady said 'End the Ragnvindr legacy,' Vindicta left without a word. They escaped."

The Fatui downs another bottle of wine. "But judging from Boss Lady's reaction, Vind did the job: killed him and placed the blame on the Knights."

The Calvary Captain knits his brows and places his hands in front of him. It laced themselves and he watches the Fatui person empty out his wine.

"I'd be careful of what you say if I were you." His lone eye glints dangerously.

"End the legacy?" Kaeya frowns. "Can I ask..." He couldn't ask why or the Fatui would stop talking to him. "Can I ask when your beloved spy did their job?"

The Fatui waves a hand, "Six years ago. After they killed that damn aristocrat's father, they tried escaping. Big Boss supervised them under their watch. 'Potential' the Harbingers always say, but I don't see the potential in them if they don't have loyalties under the Fatui. A wild card, really."

They lay their cheek on the table. The temperature drops quite dangerously. Kaeya's diamond eye glints with coldness before it turns back to warmth.

"Rumours have it," the Fatui sighs, playing with his empty mug. "The training Vindicta went through is rougher, so we were hoping they would tie their loyalties to us. We let them explore once, and they escaped under my watch. Maybe it was their assignment to leave, maybe it's not, because Boss Lady was okay with it, she said 'Vindicta will always return in our hands.' when they first escaped, and surely enough they do return. But either way, I'm fucked for letting them go missing the third time of the week."

Kaeya laughs with no soul and quickly ends the lovely 'conversation.' He pushes himself from the table and stands, "Thank you for chatting with me, it's been interesting." He tucks in the chair and glances at the two Fatui dozing, or close to dozing off.

He swiftly turns away, scoffing when he's out of sight from people. Vindicta is a dangerous card. Not even the Fatui know where their loyalties side.

Vindicta. How peculiar indeed.

One of the best Fatui, which probably meant they were payed well with respect and mora, but why are they labeled as an escapee when they always return? With someone as dangerous as a Harbinger, who do they side with- the Fatui or something else?

Kaeya has a lot of questions.

...

Diluc sits on a cushioned chair and hunches over, resting his chin on his hands, thinking.

Always thinking.

The once lit fireplace is soaked with water he splashed over. The scent of burnt wood wafts nearby. The light chatter of maids go through one ear and leave the other.

How long had it been since he last saw you?

Eternity is his answer. It's been eternity since he last saw you.

He lets out a long sigh, throwing his head back and running a hand through his untied locks.

Too much thinking for today. Diluc groans in frustration and sits back up. He turns his head slightly, seeing you in the corner of his eyes taking out boxes of things you owned from 10 years before.

It doesn't make sense to him. Why come back so suddenly after years of not seeing you? Though, you claim you sent him letters, he never got them because he closed himself off from the Knights.

"Diluc," you set down a small picture of a family portrait you took out from hiding behind many books.

You are taking this oddly well.

You're taking this too well, in fact.

This raises a red flag for Diluc. He told you the fall out of your family, how he quit the Knights, but still you're going around the place like nothing had happened.

Don't you feel any rage? Or even sadness?

He sees too many red flags and hates it- from the way you can hide things like Kaeya so easily, to the way you just suddenly appear back in his life. It feels weird. It's not easy to let someone that in quick, yet you're still his role model, so it's okay, right?

He's always looked up to you when he was younger. You never were at a loss of words and stood up for him. You were the person he can turn to when something wrong happens, but what were you doing for yourself to be gone for so long? Adventuring Teyvat could not have taken ten whole years. Where did you even stay?

"Diluc," you crouch in front of him and talk to him as if he were six again. "I'm okay, okay?"

Diluc takes a shaky breath and sits up straight. His posture resembling a king's. "I have an idea, and I would like you to help me."

You look at him in awe. The realization settles in: Diluc has grown, and you're still stuck trying to make up the past.

"And what do I help you with?"

"Finding who's responsible for father's death."

notes: had this in my drafts for a long time and i was like "wait where was i going with this..." until BAM i have the idea again so im gonna continue it

(part 2)

[malfoysstilinski]

can’t even pt2 | JJ MAYBANK (+SMUT)

MASTERLIST

PAIRINGS: JJ Maybank x Reader, Rafe Cameron x Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.1k 

SUMMARY: part two of can’t even. jj and y/n can’t stay away from each other after their meeting on the beach. 

WARNINGS: smut, cheating, public sex, dirty talk, drugs, domestic violence, curse words

A/N: i actually wrote another version of part two but it was REALLY angsty so i wrote this one instead. hopefully it’s okay idk

PART ONE IS HERE

You couldn’t stop thinking about him. JJ Maybank, that was-- not your actual boyfriend. The incident on the beach had happened a week ago and Rafe seemed to not even remember arranging plans to meet you that night, so you never brought up the fact that he had left you lonely. 

Lonely if fucking JJ Maybank on the beach was considered lonely. 

Regret had followed you around for days, yet somehow, at the same time, all you wanted was for it to happen again. For JJ to stumble upon you again and for your lips to meet and for his hands to roam places only Rafe should go. 

“You’re being weird,” your boyfriend mutters, lifting his beer bottle to his lips and taking a swig. 

He’d said it quietly to not draw attention to the two of you sat on the couch at a party, his friends surrounding you but talking about something else. You tense slightly when his large hand grabs your thigh and his lips press against your ear. 

“What is wrong with you?” Rafe hisses. 

You stare at his hand on you and try to convince yourself that it feels the same as it did at the start of your relationship. That you still love Rafe like you did months ago before you realised how truly fucked he was. 

You grab his hand and squeeze it, turning so your lips are inches apart from each other. “It’s nothing,” you whisper. 

You pull him in by the back of the neck and Rafe kisses you back eagerly, yanking you by the hips. You’re practically on his lap when you hear a wolf whistle from Topper, causing the two of you to pull away from each other. 

“Get a room!” Rafe’s friend howls. 

Rafe rolls his eyes and smirks. He’s about to make some witty comment about actually having a girlfriend when one of his friends you don’t recognise pulls out baggies of white powder. Rafe’s eyes practically warm at the sight of them and he pushes you away from him to lean closer to the table the drugs are going to be sprawled out across. 

“Rafe,” you wrap your hands around his bicep as you try to whisper in his ear, not wanting to embarrass him in front of his friends. “You promised you were gonna try--”

“Leave it, Y/N,” Rafe huffs, “Just a line or two.”

Just a line or two. 

Rafe must think you’re completely stupid if he thinks you’d believe him. It was never just one or two with Rafe. He was a selfish and dependent person. It was never simply over with him-- he always went back for more. Always. 

You roll your eyes and stand up, drifting away from the boys who are about to snort their fathers’ money up their noses. There’s no point in trying to convince Rafe to not get high tonight. Rafe does what Rafe wants. 

You decide to go and find your favourite Cameron sibling instead-- Sarah. She was most likely around somewhere considering it was a Kook party celebrating the start of summer. Your eyes eventually landed on blond hair, but much shorter and messier. 

JJ. 

His blue eyes have already landed on yours before you can wonder what he’s doing at a Kook party. His lips tug upward into a small smirk and you notice his bottom one is split but healing. Somehow he still looks like the most handsome man at the party. 

You move closer to him unconsciously, like magnets or something. JJ has a red solo cup in his hand as he peers down at you. 

“What are you doing at a Kook party?” You ask him. 

“Invited by Kie, of course,” JJ shrugs his shoulders. “I get the best of both worlds.”

“Hm,” you release a small huff through your nose, amused. “I wouldn’t necessarily say this party is any good.”

Your tone is daring. It tells him everything he needs to know. 

“I’d have to agree,” JJ downs the rest of his solo cup and crumples it in his hand before he lets it tumble to the ground. His tongue darts out to collect the alcohol across his lips. “Let’s get out of here.”

...

“Oh, fuck,” you hiss, biting your lip as JJ slides into you. 

You look down at your bodies joining together and realise JJ’s doing the same thing, groaning to himself at the erotic sight. He presses you harder against the wall of Rafe’s home and pulls out before shoving into you roughly again. You gasp, arms wrapping around his shoulders to keep yourself up right. 

Your dress is hiked up and your panties moved to the side. Nobody would see anything if they rounded the corner of the large house, but they would know exactly what was going on from the sounds that left both your lips and the way JJ’s hips thrusted like was on a mission. 

You felt like you were slipping, legs shaking slightly, until JJ grabbed beneath your thigh and hauled it up to his hip. You understood what he was saying and jump, letting JJ catch you with both his calloused hands. His slender fingers squeeze your ass as he remains deep inside of you, a smirk on his face at the hazy expression you wear. 

“What would you do if Rafe came ‘round the corner right now, hm, darlin’?” JJ grins with gritted teeth as he thrusts particularly hard, making you bite down on his shoulder. “Would you let me carry on fucking you?”

“Yes,” you breathe, hands moving from the back of his hair to scrape at his back, his shirt riding up with them. “Let him know I’m yours.”

“That’s right,” JJ’s eyes darken possessively. “You’re mine.”

He pulls out of you and guides you so that you’re back on your feet. His hands grip your hips and he shoves you against the wall so your cheek is pressed against it. He squeezes your ass again and then thrusts his cock inside, pinning your arms behind your back. 

You feel like you could cry from the amount of pleasure you’re experiencing, whines and moans leaving your lips that made it sound like you were shooting some over the top dramatised porno or something. 

“Look at you,” JJ breathes, one hand holding your wrists back and the other gliding his fingers down your spine. “Such a pretty body. Such a shame I can’t have it all the time.”

You whine even louder, attempting to back up against him a little. JJ chuckles darkly and grabs your hips nearly painfully. It feels good with the pleasure though, especially when one hand breaks free to reach around and rub figure eights against your clit. 

“You’re soaked,” JJ mutters. “Who are you wet for?”

“You,” you pant. “Wet for you, JJ.”

“Damn right,” he lands a harsh smack to your ass and teases your clit even faster. “Those noises you make are so pretty, baby. So pretty.”

“I’m gonna cum,” you grab at the wall. 

“Do it,” JJ orders, slamming his hips into you roughly. “Cum around my cock, baby.”

His words have your eyes rolling into the back of your head and there’s no way that nobody heard your moans. JJ fucks you through it, not quitting until your body is left jerking in the aftermath. He pulls out and you seem to know what he wants. 

You turn and kneel, opening your mouth for him and sticking your tongue out. JJ grins, blue eyes twinkling. God, you’re perfect. He jerks his cock a few more times and then groans lowly, cum spurting out and landing on your tongue, a little on the side of your lip. 

You make eye contact with him as you swallow his seed and JJ wishes he could record it or something. Especially when you swipe away the remainder of his cum with your thumb, slipping into your mouth and sucking it off.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” JJ grunts as he zips up his trousers and helps you to your feet. 

“Thank you,” you giggle, surprised you’re not as ashamed as last time. “That was... good.”

“It was?” JJ furrows his brows. “I didn’t think you’d be back after last time.”

“Neither did I,” you admit in a whisper. “But it looks like I can’t stay away, huh?”

...

“Yes, yes, yes,” you squeal as you both reach your high together. 

JJ groans loudly underneath you and you can feel his warm cum fill you up. Your eyes flutter at the sensation before you pull yourself up and off of him, rolling onto your back next to the blond who was panting, staring up at the ceiling. 

“That was fucking amazing,” JJ grins as he rolls onto his side to look at you. 

The two of you had been hooking up for about three or four weeks now, not including the week you spent apart after the first time. You knew you needed to break it off with Rafe, you really did, but the boy was more concerned with drugs than you and it had gotten to the point where you were pretty sure he forgot the two of you were dating most of the time. 

Besides, you were honestly scared. Scared that if you told him that you didn’t want to be with him anymore that he would lash out and hit you... or worse. 

“I think I’m gonna do it today,” you say and JJ’s eyes light up. 

“Really?” He questions. 

“Mhm,” you look around at the room JJ spent most nights in in John B’s Chateau. “I don’t want to be that person. I hate doing this to him.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” He asks worriedly. 

“That will piss him off even more,” you scoff, shaking your head. “I think it’s best I handle this myself.”

“But it’s Rafe we’re talking about here,” JJ states the obvious as he sits up, pulling a shirt over his body. “He could get violent.”

That’s exactly why I’ve been putting it off, you think. 

“He’ll probably be more glad that he can snort as much coke as he wants now without me breathing down his neck,” you mutter. 

...

You stick to your word and later that night you find yourself outside the Cameron household. It’s quiet, just the family inside tonight. Sarah smiles when she opens the door to you and tells you that Rafe’s upstairs in his bedroom, so you take your time heading up the staircase. 

Please don’t get mad. Please don’t get mad. 

You knock on his door and hear some shuffling about before it opens. Your heart nearly stops when you realise Rafe’s as high as a kite. His pupils are dilated, the skin around his nose a little red and he’s breathing heavier than usual. He doesn’t even smile when he sees you, just moves aside. 

“What?” He mutters. 

“Rafe, we need to talk.”

There’s silence. Then he laughs. Rafe starts to cackle like a madman, and perhaps he is. He stops laughing after a few seconds and stares at you quite blankly. 

“Who’ve you been fucking, then?” Rafe suddenly demands, mood flipping like a switch. “Come on! Topper, is it? John B on the boat? Come on, Y/N! I’ve seen the hickies!”

“Rafe,” you cower backwards. “I think it’s best we just end our relationship here--”

“I don’t want to be with a used slut, anyway,” Rafe growls, grabbing your wrist and squeezing. 

You yelp before you rip it out of his grasp and shove him back as hard as you can by the chest. “Me? Me a used slut? You’ve cheated on me with half the tourons that come through this fucking isla--”

You’re smacked across the face next, your head flying to the side in shock. Everything’s silent aside from Rafe’s heavy breathing as he waits for your next move. You hold your cheek, pulling back finding blood on your cheek.

“Bye, Rafe,” you mutter and start to leave.  

“That’s it, then?” Rafe yells after you, sounding somewhat panicked. “You’re not gonna fight back? You’re just gonna let me do that!?”

Before you shut his bedroom door behind you, you send him a small smile and think of the blond who will be more than furious to see the growing bruise on your cheekbone. 

“Don’t worry, Rafe. You’ll get what’s coming to you.” 

taglist: @beth-winchester21 @thatshithurted8 @k-k0129 @mayybank @joshy-obx @dontjinx-it @baby-pogue @sydney-m @jeyramarie @aamcqueeny​ 

[illyaana]

Squiggles - Oikawa Tooru

Thanks to @pocky-writes for this collab! It was so fun to do~ Check out all the other writers involved in the collab here ヾ(•ω•`)o

Tags: Oikawa's POV, Angst, Minor Fluff, Cursing, Kissing, SFW, Manga Spoiler (Oikawa and Iwaizumi's future jobs)

Synopsis: You entered Oikawa's life - and it hasn't been the same ever since. (If I give anymore, it'll be spoilers TwT) (I also named Oikawa's sis Miho-)

Word Count: 4334

⋯⋯ ⫍ SFW Masterlist ◍ Navigation ⫎ ⋯⋯

Liked my writing? Do you want a drabble specifically made for you about your love life with a character of your choosing? Check out my 50 followers event over here!

All stories are basically a squiggly line - it has ups and downs with multiple loops in random spots. Some parts might be thicker or shorter than others, but all points of the story make up a giant, huge squiggly line that either brings you joy or sadness. I wanted my story to be as thick and long as possible - to outshine all the other squiggles the world has to offer. It was going to be the best squiggle ever until you came along and made it loopier and uneven.

.

.

.

I remember the first day you came into our class so vividly.

I had rushed to the school to copy Iwa-chan’s homework. The Kitagawa Daiichi blazer I wore was soaked in sweat thanks to me running a few blocks in several minutes. Of course, Iwa was in the classroom, waiting for school to start. He had rolled up his sleeves and was reading the literature component assigned to us - the very book I never touched ever since volleyball practices began.

“You are of a different breed, Oikawa,” Iwa-chan mumbled as he passed his book to me, “This is the last time you’re doing this.”

No, it isn’t.

“Yes, sir.”

I pulled out my book and began to move at top speed, hoping I would finish before class began.

That’s when you opened the door, breaking my concentration.

You were glowing. The school blazer seemed so big on you - as if someone with a bigger physique gave it to you - but you look so precious in it. You had a jump in your step, a wide smile plastered on your face. Your hair looked so soft even from a mile away. You seemed so at peace with everything - even when you entered a new school.

You carried yourself with such confidence it scared me.

I loved being the confident one, the hot one, the cheerful one - yet you stole those roles from me the second you walked into the school campus.

I didn’t know what I felt; was it inferiority or was it just pure admiration? Maybe a combination of both?

All of this… It was so new to me.

I was always surrounded by those who were eager for my approval - to be part of my posse and be connected to me in some way, but I just wanted to be around you. It was the first time I ever took an interest in anyone excluding my volleyball team.

It’s weird, isn’t it? The feeling of warmth rushing through your skin, but your throat just feels tight - it doesn’t want you to say anything you would regret, so it tries to hold you back. Your palms sweat and become clammy, goosebumps rise on your skin - it is so freeing yet restricting.

I wanted to come and welcome you to the school - maybe take you around the school grounds, show off a bit at the gym, find out who you are as a person - if I got lucky, even get your phone number.

“ ‘kawa, are they new? I feel like I’ve never seen them before…” Iwaizumi asked, pulling on my rolled-up sleeve.

Of course, this had to happen, didn’t it?

Iwaizumi tried to cover his red face with his arms, but he was failing miserably. His forehead began to sweat, a trail of water dripping down his chin. His chocolate eyes glowed just like your skin - so much so you could see the hazel flecks within them. His whole arm was covered in raised goosebumps, just like mine.

He was attracted to you.

“I think they are,” I replied, hiding my feelings with a smile, “Why Iwa-chan? Oh my god Iwa, you’re blushing!”

Iwaizumi threw a book to my face, earning a groan from me.

“Shut up, Shittykawa,” he says, blushing in a deeper red, “...but yeah, I think I do.”

“Well, if you want them to swoon for you just like how almost all the girls of the school do for me, I can help you. Just with the daily fee of milk bread during recess, I can turn your single ass into a full-fledged bachelor!” I say, trying to lighten up the mood.

“I'll buy you milk bread for lunch, either way,” he mumbled.

“See? It’s basically free, isn’t it? The best part of it all; it comes with a free gift! A box of milk every day so that you can grow taller-” Book number two found its place on my forehead once again.

“You’re such an idiot,” he says midst chuckling, “Thanks for the offer, Tooru. I think I’ll do this by myself, though.”

“Ok, then! Just so you know, the offer is always on the table,” I smirk, teasing the shorter male even more, “Don’t forget the milk.”

“I am never buying you anything ever again.”

.

.

.

Classes went on as usual, but I couldn’t focus at all.

I kept on staring at you from my seat - enjoying every single thing you did. I saw how you’d raise your shoulders in frustration when you couldn’t understand a question, how you’d bite the end of your pencil when you were focusing on the class, how you’d play with your fingers when you were stressed - I was taking mental notes without even realizing it. I loved all the small little huffs you’d make when you’re agitated. Judging by how you were speeding through most of the questions, you seemed to be a smart student.

I kept on playing small scenarios that I would do to get your attention.

Maybe I’d ask you a question and act like I couldn’t understand the whole topic so that you could tutor me, or I should just ask you about your opinions on the essay topic we discussed in class, or I could tease you about that small thing you did in front of the classroom when the teacher wasn’t looking.

But I would never do that to Iwaizumi.

My mind replayed that small scene of him blushing just at the mere glance of you. If he could, he would’ve already gushed about you to me - tell me all the things I already knew just by looking at you. He’d go on and on about how you squinched your nose when you drank that hot drink a bit too early and burnt your tongue.

His squiggle was already slowly moving around you, making a loop fitted for you and you alone - and I will happily watch from the sidelines when you two finally become a thing.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Welcome back, Tooru!” My sister said from the kitchen, “Give me a minute, I’m helping mom prepare lunch.”

I placed my bag in front of my room and headed to the kitchen.

“Don’t make poison, please!” I tease her, enjoying the annoyed expression on her face.

“Tooru!” Mom sighed, “We’re inviting our new neighbors for dinner today. Go shower and get ready.”

I stuck my tongue out at my sister, earning an anger-filled hum from my mother. I ran to my room and soon headed to the shower to get ready.

Slinging the white towel on my shoulder, I head back to the kitchen area and set the table for the meal.

“Where are they from again?” Miho asked Mom.

“They’re apparently from Tokyo. The father passed away recently, so the mother had to bring the rest of the family to Miyagi to reduce the financial burden. Sad, isn’t it?” she replied.

“We should help them here and there,” Miho started, “We don’t need to give them money, but maybe help them get used to the city?”

I nodded, but I wasn’t present in the conversation ever since Mom mentioned Tokyo.

“Do they have a kid my age?” I ask, hoping that I’m wrong.

“I think there’s one that just transferred to your school?”

Please, don’t be who I think it is.

The doorbell rang, shaking me out of my thoughts.

I slowly headed to the door, gripping the doorknob tightly as I slowly opened the door.

I was right.

“Hello, Oikawa-san! It’s me, Y/N, from your class,” you said, a smile on your face.

“I just wanted to thank you and your family for your generous offer, but we can’t join you for dinner today,” you started, “Mom has to go get some things settled before she can come for dinner. Sorry, again…”

“What about you? Have you eaten anything yet?” My mom asked as she walked towards the door, “If you want, you can eat dinner here and bring some back for your mom.”

“Really?!” Your lips widened, “Thank you so much, aunty!”

You sat right beside me, just like Iwa-chan does when he comes over. I loved seeing you talk so comfortably with my family. I could see my mom’s adoration towards you when you talked about your life back in Tokyo. Your eyes lit up when you talked about your family - even if you were talking about your father.

You didn’t know it yet, but your presence makes my squiggle a little lighter.

“What school are you going to, Y/N?” Mom asked.

“I’m going to Kitagawa Daiichi like Oikawa-san. I am in his class, actually... “ you trail off.

“Do you want me to walk you to school? I don’t mind doing it, but Iwaizumi would be joining us too. Are you okay with that?” I ask, gripping the ends of my shirt.

For the first time in my life, I hated the fact I had to be beside Iwaizumi.

“Thanks, Oikawa-san. It means a lot,” you smiled.

.

.

.

I regret asking you that question.

I had to see Iwaizumi try to flirt with you.

I had to see how you’d occasionally lean your head on my shoulder when we walked to school until Iwaizumi met up with us in the middle of our walk to school.

I had to see Iwaizumi carry your bag - something I wanted to do.

I had to see Iwaizumi make small jokes to you - something I wanted to do.

I had to see you enjoy Iwaizumi’s presence - something I wanted you to only feel for me.

I had to let it happen in front of me, didn’t I?

Books and movies never compare to the real thing; to see the person you love gush over someone you love like a sibling.

But you were closest to me, not Iwa-chan.

You came to me when you had problems, not Iwa-chan.

You stayed over at my place to relax, not Iwa-chan’s.

You watched movies with me, played games with me, told secrets to me - not Iwa-chan.

Your squiggle intertwined with mine more than Iwa-chan’s.

“Tooru,” you said as you played with the rogue strands of my hair as your head laid on my lap, “Do you want to go out on a trip?”

“What? Why?”

“We’re graduating, but we never had a trip together. It’s weird, isn’t it?” You say, slowly getting up.

I pushed your head back on my lap, earning a muffled squeal from you.

“It isn’t, to be honest,” I say, “...but I do like the idea.”

“So, we’re doing it?” you say as you wiggle your feet in excitement.

“Yeap. I’ll ask Iwa-chan if he wants to join,” I say as I grab my phone.

“I was kind of hoping that it would be just the two of us? I haven’t been able to talk to you without anyone intervening for a long time, and there’s a lot I wanna talk about.”

You looked at me, hoping for some reaction, but I couldn’t say anything.

If I was not friends with Iwaizumi, I would’ve said yes almost immediately.

I know I love you - ever since I saw you, I have.

But Iwaizumi deserves someone amazing like you.

I don’t.

“Tell me, then! I don’t think Mom’s coming home anytime soon and Miho is working right now, so there isn’t anyone who’d disturb us now,” I say through gritted teeth.

I felt your disappointment when you sighed and moved to lie down on my bed.

“I guess I’ll tell you another day.”

I felt your squiggle moving away from me - moving on without mine.

.

.

.

Soon, our one-week trip to Tokyo began.

Thanks to months and months of pestering, our parents let us go by ourselves to the city you grew up in.

I could see everything in your eyes, thanks to your stories about this place. The small, quaint shops, the smell of freshly made Taiyaki at the side of the road, the small kids running on the pavement while being chased by angry parents - all of it.

“Oikawa!” you patted my shoulder, “That’s the bakery I talked about last time. You know, the one with amazing cheese tarts? Oh, that’s where my dad gave me my first cup of coffee!”

Iwaizumi chuckled as he focused on the road, admiring your love for the city.

“Why are you laughing, pine cone hair?” You tease Iwaizumi, trying to get more reactions from him.

“Nothing! You sound cute, that’s all,” he said as he focused on the road.

“Oh, really~?” You move closer to Iwaizumi and whisper something in his ear, making him blush instantly.

There it is.

That icky feeling I hate.

Why did it come now? I was with Y/N and Iwaizumi - the people I care about the most.

Go away.

Get out.

I don’t need you.

“Well, I’ll just chaperone Oikawa then, Hajime. Have fun all by yourself in a huge city you don’t know well,” you say, teasing him even more.

Hajime.

They said Hajime - not Iwaizumi.

“Geez, get a room, you two.”

“Sad I’m taking your husband away, Tooru?”

“The fuck, Y/N!” Both Iwa-chan and I scream.

You laugh as you lean back into the backseat.

“What? You both are an old couple,” you begin, “Oikawa is the flamboyant one and Iwaizumi is the man that’s only gay for Oikawa and actually thinks before doing something.”

“Did everyone think I’m gay for Oikawa?” Iwa says under his breath.

“Yeap,” you reply, “Many girls were sad, to be honest. I kept on telling them you’re straight, but they didn’t listen,” you shrug.

“And me?” I ask.

“You were labelled as the hot pansexual, lucky you,” you reply with an eye roll.

“Why did no one tell me…” Iwaizumi said to himself, worried.

“Honey~,” I began teasing the ‘pinecone’.

“Shut the fuck up, Shittykawa.”

“ ‘Shut the fuck up, Shittykawa’ - why don’t you give an actual nice nickname for the brunette over here,” you ask him, playing with the stressed driver.

“No.”

“Do it or I’m calling you pinecone for the rest of your life.”

“No.”

“Do it or I’ll tell them-” I say before getting cut off by Iwaizumi himself.

“Prettykawa.”

“Holy shit, Y/N,” I wiped my fake tears, “He called me pretty! Darling~”

“Oh my god, Oikawa,” you say, laughing as I hug Iwaizumi’s arm.

Our squiggles were intertwined and in a good way - that’s all that mattered.

.

.

.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi looked at me with a serious face, “I think I am going to confess to them tonight.”

Wait, you are?

Please don’t.

Don’t take them away from me.

I need them.

Iwaizumi, please don’t.

“Finally! It’s about time you made your move - I think they like you too, so you have a shot.”

It’s true - I see how they stare at you.

Their eyes are filled with admiration, lips fixed in a soft smile, their hands grazing your cheek - they love you as much as you love them, Iwaizumi.

“Thanks for supporting me, Tooru. It really means a lot to me,” he says as he hugged me, “Thanks for being my best friend.”

I haven’t been a good friend, Iwa.

I fell for the same person.

I want to steal them from you so badly, but I can’t bring myself to hate you.

I want to hate you so bad, but I can’t.

This feeling… I hate it.

“Thanks for being mine, too.” I smiled, but the smile never reached my eyes.

You’re taking them away from me, Iwaizumi.

You could’ve gotten anyone else, but you took them away from me.

I don’t want to feel this - this hatred growing within, yet here I am, cursing you in my head the minute I see you.

“Go! Why are you wasting time?” I say, pushing you towards the door.

I saw the smile you gave me as you ran to her room.

You are such an amazing person, Iwa-chan.

You can care for someone who deeply hates you.

.

.

.

I saw how they were basically draped around you for the next few days. They looked so happy just to be beside you.

Each day, their eyes spoke stories of love for you, Iwa. They used to come over to my place and gush about you every day, like a ritual.

You’re so fucking lucky, Iwaizumi. This isn’t fair.

They’d go on and on about your physique, your personality and the small things you’d do.

Congratulations, they finally paid attention to the things you did for them. I’m happy for you, Iwa.

I am happy for the two of you, truly.

They are truly happy.

I could’ve never done that - never.

I just wish I wasn’t walking towards the gym that day.

I saw your first kiss under that tree - the tree the three of us used to spend under while waiting for practice to start.

I saw how their hands gripped on the back of your head, pressing themselves on you. I saw how you gripped their hips oh so tightly as you showed them your passion towards them. I saw how breathless they looked the minute your lips left theirs. I saw how they grazed your chin whilst staring into your eyes in admiration.

I pictured how it would’ve been if I was in your position.

I would’ve held them tighter, pressed my forehead against theirs so that our noses would brush against each other. They’d play with the ends of my hair, going on and on about how soft each lock was like they usually do. They’d eye my lips as I stared at their soft and supple lips. I’d press the tip of my thumb on their bottom lip, enjoying the view of their parted lips made just for me and me alone. Slowly, I would kiss their cheeks, hoping for some cute reaction from them. From their cheeks, I would drag my lips to their chin, placing soft kisses here and there.

I would then press my lips against theirs, enjoying the soft noises escaping their lips.

But I never will - you’re theirs as they’re yours.

Of all places, why did you have to choose there?

I can’t come back here without thinking about that kiss now.

That icky feeling…

It’s back.

Go away.

Get out of me.

I am happy.

“Damn, Iwaizumi,” Matsun said as he approached the gym, “Y/N’s really in love with them, huh?”

“Shut it, Matsun,” Maki said, looking at me.

Of course, he’d notice.

I am in love with his friend's girlfriend, after all.

“What? He’s telling the truth; they’re so in love with each other they can’t even see that three people saw their first kiss!” I shouted, earning a growl from the black-haired male hugging Y/N.

“Out of all the times, Shittykawa…”

“You better run, he looks feral!” You shouted, laughing.

“You sure he wasn’t feral ever since he initiated that kiss? I saw that hand wandering, Iwaizumi~!” Matsukawa shouted as he ran to the gym.

“Iwaizumi isn’t innocent anymore. You aren’t part of the gang anymore man, stay back,” Hanamaki said, wiping a fake tear whilst gripping his sides, “You’ve grown up too quick, Iwa-senpai.”

“You okay, ‘kawa?” Maki said as he turned to me, rubbing my back.

“I am fine, Maki. Go ahead - go to the gym, I’ll come in a minute,” I gave him a nod as I walked to the toilet.

That day was the first day I cried over someone in school, and hopefully the last.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Tooru… Tohru…” You mumbled.

“Yes, my name is similar to the main character’s. What about it?” I sigh.

“We should get you a cat. Who knows, you might kiss it and it’ll become a girl?” Iwa chirped.

“That’s a cat version of Princess and the Frog,” I say, annoyed.

“Stupid,” you hit Iwa’s thigh, “Get with the program.”

Iwa groaned as he rubbed his leg, “That was really painful, dumbass.”

“Tohru, he called me dumbass,” you whined.

“I am not Tohru - it’s Tooru.”

“Brown hair, all of the people around them falling in love with them, high pitched voice… that’s you,” Iwa joked.

“Major flaw in your theory - I am not a girl.”

“Alternate universe Tohru then,” you said, enjoying the banter.

“Tohru plays with animals, I play with a volleyball team.”

“How do you know she isn’t in a volleyball team? It was never specified she isn’t part of a volleyball team.”

“It’s never specified that she is part of a volleyball team,” I say, clearly annoyed by this conversation.

“I’m getting you a cat - a ginger one,” Iwa said, grabbing his phone from the side table.

“Don’t get me a cat!”

“Get him a cat, love. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’ll love it,” you said, leaning against Iwaizumi’s chest to see his phone screen.

“Holy shit,” you said, holding back a laugh, “He’s actually looking-”

“Iwaizumi Hajime!” I scream, making both Iwaizumi and you laugh loudly.

“I was looking at a cat meme, stupid.”

I sign out of frustration and look back at the TV screen, avoiding the mischievous couple.

I eyed the way they were sitting on the couch.

You were seated in between Iwaizumi’s legs, their back pressed against his front. Their hands played with Iwaizumi’s left hand, fiddling with his fingers as they stared at the screen in front of them. Iwaizumi wasn’t looking at the screen though - he was staring at his lover who was fully immersed in the scene unfolding in front of them. His right hand grazed their right hand, enjoying the feeling of them comfortable in his arms.

You looked happy, and that’s all that mattered.

The last episode soon finished and you looked to the ceiling, stretching your neck.

“So sad it’s over,” you said, smiling.

“At least it had a good ending. I don’t think I need to remind you how heartbroken you were when we watching Banana Fish’s-”

“Don’t remind me - I’ll cry here and now.”

You got off the couch and walked towards the kitchen to get a drink.

“So,” you plopped on the couch, leaning against Iwa, “What’s the final plan, Mr Tohru?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your life after high school, of course! What’s the plan? I know Hajime is planning to be a trainer, but you never told me what your plan is.”

Hajime.

Hajime.

Hajime.

Again with the Hajime.

Just use Iwaizumi, for fuck’s sake.

“...Tooru?”

I snap out of my thoughts. “Oh.”

“You’ve been out of it recently. You’re okay, right?” You say as you walk to sit beside me.

I chuckle, looking at your concerned face.

“I’m good - just stressed about life, that’s all. I am not so sure as to what’s the next step, but it’s going pro.”

You hug me from the side, placing your head on my shoulder.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you, now? Aren’t you scared that you might make Hajime jealous?” I tease.

“I don’t know - I just feel I need to do this, like a feeling that you might do something rash.”

I felt tears wet the side of my shirt.

My eyes darted to the sight of you, sobbing, gripping on my shirt.

“Don’t you dare forget me, okay?” You say through sniffles, “I sure as hell won’t forget you.”

I cup your face in my hands, wiping off the trailing tears.

“I won’t.”

You made a huge loop on my squiggle, Y/N - I don’t I can ever forget you.

.

.

.

.

.

.

TO: Y/N (2:30 a.m.)

It’s been so many years, Y/N.

You’ve blossomed into the amazing person I knew you’d be.

I saw Iwa-chan recently - after all, he’s training the Japan team.

I actually made it into a team - the Argentinian Volleyball team.

I kept on doubting myself, but you kept on reminding me of how good of a setter I was back in high school.

I know you’re busy being the big person in your industry - congrats on all the awards again, I keep forgetting to contact you.

If you’re down, maybe we can call? I miss your voice.

I sent the message, hoping you’d reply as fast as you used to when we were in high school.

I looked from the hotel window, trying to imagine how the scenery is back home in Miyagi.

The roaring fields, the birds flying in the sky as we walked down that small pathway, that traffic light you’d draw on while waiting for the cars to pass - I remembered it all.

I remembered it all just because you were part of it.

Funny, isn’t it? After so many years, I still think of you.

Not as my friend’s lover, but mine.

I shouldn’t have invited Iwaizumi to that trip.

I should’ve just kept you all to myself - protect you from the world.

I should’ve just kept Iwaizumi out of your life - not let him in at any point.

I should’ve just told him how I feel about you.

I tried so hard to get over you, Y/N.

I met so many other people, hoping they could fill up the hole you left when you left me for him. I had so many sour relationships just because I was comparing them to the rhetorical you that I dated. If the world had given me a second chance, I would be standing beside you - I would work to provide for you the best the world had to offer.

But in the end, your squiggle was meant to grow without mine. I had to accept it and move on, as much as it hurts.

Covid 19: Angst train :)

All reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated!!!

[foilfreak]

Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 2

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(Link to ao3 version in comments below)

Chapter 2:

The journey to Mother Miranda’s personal laboratory was much shorter and more enjoyable than the original walk to the meeting site, in Salvatore’s humble opinion.

Mother Miranda was mostly quiet, distant, and preoccupied throughout the duration of the walk, even more so than normal. That being said however, while this sort of behavior would usually spell disaster for whichever one of the 4 lords was forced to be in her presence during these sorts of moods, in this situation, Mother Miranda did not appear tense or agitated or hostile like she usually would be. Just lost in thought. As though she were only quiet because she was too busy thinking about something else to speak. She didn’t even seem to mind his various attempts at starting conversation, which surprised, but endlessly delighted, the mutant man.

‘Mother must be in a very good mood today. She hasn’t hit me or told me to shut up the whole time we’ve been together. Maybe she’s made another breakthrough with the cadou? I’d certainly be very happy if I were in her shoes’ Salvatore excitedly thought to himself as the woman in question stepped forward to unlock and open the large steel door of her personal laboratory, allowing Salvatore to step into the facility before closing and locking it again behind her.

“Moreau, do you recall the set of mutation experiments I began at the beginning of last year?” The raven mother asked, turning around and beginning to quickly make her way down the long, dark corridor.

“Y-you mean… the o-ones with the new c-cadou strain th-that I… that I d-developed… f-for you?” Salvatore stutters, breath labored and body struggling to keep up with the taller woman’s vastly larger steps.

“Correct” Mother Miranda says, turning a corner. “As impressed as I was with the final results of this particular strain, I’m afraid it still isn’t good enough. None of the subjects I implanted with cadou last year turned out to be favorable candidates.”

Salvatore stops in his tracks, a look of horror and agony on his face as news that he’d failed mother once again practically tears him apart from the inside out. “O-oh Mother… I-im so s-s-sorry to h-hear that… b-but don’t w-worry… I’ll-I’ll try h-harder next t-time… I w-won’t fail y-you again Mother, so p-please… please j-just give me a-another chance to get it r-right… i b-beg of y-you…”

Mother Miranda stops and turns toward the mutated lord, staring at him in silence as he drops to his knees and grovels at her feet, begging desperately for his failures to be forgiven.

“Off your knees, Moreau, this behavior is unbecoming of a Lord such as yourself. Besides, I never said that you were the one to blame for the lack of successful results, nor am I necessarily displeased by the fact that these experiments yielded failed vessels.”

Salvatore allows his gaze to rise to his mother’s face, where, true to her words, the parts of Miranda’s face that Salvatore could make out from behind her mask did not appear marred with the familiar expressions of anger and disappointment that the 4 lords were usually met with after another round of failed vessels.

“Y-you’re… you’re not upset with m-me?” The deformed man asks, his voice laced with shock and disbelief.

“No, my child, I’m not upset with you. While these experiments may have ended in failure, they did provide me with useful information that may prove to be pertinent to our mission in the near future. In fact, as I said earlier, the reason why I’ve brought you here is because I want to give you a gift, as a reward for all your incredible work. Did you expect me to be upset with you simply because this round proved unsuccessful as well? Do you really think so poorly of your loving mother, who works tirelessly to ensure her children are happy and rewarded for all their faith and trust in me?” Mother Miranda sniveled pitifully, turning her gaze away in mock dejection as Salvatore, horrified that he’d insulted and hurt her somehow, scrambles to his feet, gently taking both of Miranda’s hands into his own and holding the supple skin to his bloated and deformed face, desperately hoping this would comfort her.

“No no no no, o-of course n-not, Mother… I-I’d never expect s-something like th-that from y-you… and-and I k-know better… b-better than a-anyone… just h-how h-hard you w-work… not j-just on y-your experiments… but f-for all o-of us… too… you l-l-love us… you… love ME… I-I’ll always love y-you, Mother… always” Salvatore blurts, stumbling over his words as he tries desperately to comfort Mother Miranda, an effort he’s seemingly rewarded for, when Miranda takes one of her hands away and brings it back to the top of Salvatore’s head, once again gently brushing her hand against it.

Salvatore’s knees nearly give out from under him as the heavenly sensation washes throughout his body like a raging typhoon, leaving him feeling tired and weak yet hungry and wanting for more, though whatever that “more” was, Salvatore was quick to beat it back down deep within himself, knowing this was neither the time nor the place for him to be entertaining such… primal desires about someone like Mother Miranda, no matter how little he intends to act on them.

“Thank you, Moreau. You always know exactly what to say to make Mother feel better. You’re such a good boy” Mother Miranda says, making sure to put extra emphasis onto the last two words as she reaches forward and pulls Salvatore closer to her.

“G-g-g-gggg… good… boy… me?” Salvatore chokes, tears beginning to fill his eyes as Mother Miranda’s arms come to wrap around him, pushing the deformed man’s face to lean against the soft, feathery material of her bosom.

“Yes, Moreau. You’ve always been very special to me. From the day I met you, you’ve been such a good, well-behaved boy that I never have to worry about” Miranda begins, her face blank and expressionless as she passionlessly strokes Salvatore’s face. “No matter how simple the task, those 3 are always making mistakes of some kind and forcing me to come and clean up their messes after them, especially that snake Heisenberg. But you? No, never you, Moreau, not my special, perfect little boy who always tries his best to make Mother happy. Do you enjoy making Mother happy, Moreau?”

“Y-y-yES! Of-of c-course I do” Salvatore moans, his voice slightly muffled by Miranda’s chest as he violently nods his head in affirmation, tears freely falling from his eyes as his head swims deliriously from the endless wave of kind words and gentle touches.

“Good! I always knew you did. And for that, I'm going to reward you with something very special. Something to… keep you busy... while I’m away for a little while” The raven mother coos again.

Salvatore stops for a moment when the meaning of Miranda’s words finally registers in his brain. “While… w-while you’re… away? You’re l-leaving us?” Salvatore asks, his voice growing increasingly distressed with each word.

“Only for a short time, hopefully,” Mother Miranda answers, “but yes, at the end of this month, I will be leaving the village in order to attend to some very important business I have. I’m not sure how my journey will fare, however I'm optimistic that it will be the key necessary to finally getting my Ev- uh… pardon me; the key to finally achieving our goal of creating a perfect vessel. Doesn’t that sound nice, Moreau?”

“It-it does” the deformed man says quietly, still put off by the mention of Mother leaving, but not wanting to put a damper on his mother’s incredibly rare good mood. “But… where is i-it… th-that you’ll be g-going… an-and for h-how long?”

“Just down the mountain to pay someone a visit, however I have no idea when I'll be back. That will depend on how successful my mission goes, I suppose.”

Silence falls over the two as Salvatore, still upset by the news that Mother Miranda would be leaving, continues to take in the comfort and warmth of his Mother’s arms for just a moment longer, selfishly wishing that Mother held him more often. Eventually however, Mother Miranda does pull back from the superficial embrace, gesturing for Salvatore to follow her once more, which the deformed man begins to do without question.

“Of the 4 of you, you’re the last one to come and pick your gift,” Miranda says, unaware of the visible slump that Salvatore’s shoulders take on upon hearing this. “However, despite there only being one option left, it would appear as though your siblings have decided to spare you their usual games of trickery this time around. If anything, I think you might be the one to have ended up with the best deal after everything is said and done.”

Salvatore looks up at Mother Miranda with an expression of mild confusion, wondering what on earth she could mean by that. His musings are quickly interrupted however, when the two enter a large room filled with various pods.

“Of the 22 test subjects we started with last year, only 13 were genetically compatible with the cadou parasite, and even then, only 4 ended up surviving the full mutation phase. Despite their impressively stable conditions, they still aren’t suitable vessels for my purposes, however I felt as though it would be such a waste to just do away with them. So, with that in mind, I’ve decided that my gift to you all, before I must leave you for a time, is to give one test subject to each of you.”

“G-give? You’re… y-you’re giving us t-test subjects?” Salvatore repeats dumbly, not certain he understood where this was going.

“Correct” Mother Miranda affirms. “This is easily the most successful batch of mutations we’ve seen to date, and given the amount of time and effort I poured into making sure these last 4 survived until now, I’d at least like to see some use gotten out of them before they die or suddenly lose control of their mutations and go rogue.”

“Like… l-like what?” The hooded man asks nervously.

Miranda merely shrugs her shoulders, uncaring. “Anything you like. Housekeeper. Playmate. Labrat. Partner in Crime. Whatever it is you desire of your gift, you may have without question. And in the event they refuse you… well, you’ll at least have a fun little toy to chase after for a little while.”

“I... see...” Salvatore says quietly, growing less and less excited about this whole “gift” thing, now that he knows that his gift is just another person.

Another person to scream and wail at how unbelievably hideous and disgusting of a monster he looks, no doubt.

Without another word, Miranda heads over to the large control table located in the middle of the room, pressing a few buttons before 4 of the many identical pods begin moving toward them. Steam pours out the tops and bottoms of the metal pods as the large capsules slowly finish lowering themselves from their hung pedestals, displaying them directly in front of Miranda and Salvatore.  The man in question stands anxiously in front of the still sealed door, nervously fidgeting with his fingers as he waits for Mother to show him his gift, a myriad of thoughts and fears and worries flying throughout the mutant man’s mind.

“The first 3 have already been chosen by your siblings, but the one on the far right is all yours” Miranda says, pushing another button that causes the singular pod in question to click open, its door slowly beginning to rise upward toward the ceiling.

Salvatore nods in understanding as he tries to avoid watching the door of the pod open, instead hyper focusing on what Miranda is saying as the tension in the room becomes so thick it feels as if it could be cut with a dull knife.

After what felt like an eternity and a half of waiting, the pod door finally finished opening, and in that exact moment, as the disfigured man’s gaze finally fell upon the sight of his gift for the first time, his eyes went wide in shock, his mouth dropped open in disbelief, and his hands fell limply to his side in complete and utter bewilderment at the sight that stood before him.

“That… th-that’s… for me?” Salvatore manages to croak out, his throat suddenly dry as a desert and the air from his lungs having left him the second before.

Raising his hand up toward the creature wired into the pod, the hooded man finds himself unable to look away, feeling almost mesmerized as his mind struggles to figure out whether all this is really happening, or if he’d finally succumbed to the insanity of his condition and dreamt all this up as a sick and twisted way of coping with his soul crushing loneliness. Either one was just as likely at this point.

“I’m sure you’ll still be quite pitiful on the day I have to leave, but at least this way you’ll have something to keep yourself occupied with until I return, yes?” Mother Miranda says smugly, clearly pleased by his reaction. “So, what do you think, Moreau? Do you like the gift I’ve gotten for you?”

It wasn't until after several moments of silence that Salvatore finally responded. After stuttering and slurring unintelligibly over several sentences worth of responses, 2 words, and 2 words alone, finally managed to tumble from the mutant man’s lips, his eyes shining as he finally reached forward enough to slowly and carefully intertwine his fingers with the small and delicate hand of the beautiful young woman that slept peacefully inside the pod.

“She’s perfect!”

[hpdabbles]

Ronald “Pretty one” Weasley

I couldn’t stop thinking about a conversation I had on discord and so here. Ron Weasley becoming the Pretty Weasley

“Alright, you know what? I will not allow this.” Harry said one night after walking in on Ron trying on the robes his mother sent. The Yule Ball was but two weeks away, with neither of them being able to find dates yet, Ron had hope to try on the robes and see what they look like.

He felt utterly miserable staring at his reflection and Harry wouldn’t stand for it. His friend walked over with a set jaw, a firm frown and a stride that promise he would burn the world down if needed to get what he wanted. Ron often wondered how Harry could be so intense all the time, wasn’t he ever exhausted? “Off with the robes Ron.”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“Off with the robes. You aren’t wearing those. Burn them if you must.”  Harry repeated planting himself before his friend, hands on his hips. Briefly Ron thought of his mother when she was on a rant about the twins. “I’m going to get you something better to wear.”

A rush of shame and outrage sprung through the red head’s body, his face clouding over. He can’t figure out what to do with all the emotions, so he lashes out. “I don’t need your pity!”

“It’s not pity! You’re my best friend! I want to help”  Harry insists and it was only due to the fact he has seen the same expression on the Boy-Who-Lived’s face when he attempted to convince Ron he hadn’t put his name in the goblet.  

The red head pursed his lips but he nodded anyway. He could always find a way to pay his friend back, because he would be paying him back. Ron refused to be anyone charity case. “Fine. How exactly are you going to get me new dress robes?”

Harry practically lit up as if he thought of a brilliant idea. “Okay so I’ve been thinking a lot about this. We can’t leave the castle but you know who can? Dobby!”

At once the little house elf appeared in the room.  “Harry Potter has called for Dobby?”

“Yes, Dobby, you are a free elf yeah? Would you be able to leave Hogwarts and buy something I need?”

“Dobby has no master! Dobby can go buy for Harry Potter” The little elf chirps and Ron is honestly surprised by Harry’s idea because he hadn’t even consider the house elf to be able to leave the castle at all. “What is Harry Potter needing?”

Harry’s green eyes twist to lock with Ron’s ocean blue, and they crinkle as his friend gestures at him. “Dress robes for Ron. Something. Something really nice.”

Dobby freezes then frowns.  He gives Ron a calculating look which is something the pureblood never thought he would see on a house elf. He feels himself hunching over, a reaction of anyone staring at him for too long. 

Dobby snaps his fingers and a measuring tape appearing at his side.  “Dobby works in kitchens now, but Dobby would buy Malfoys robes when Dobby was not free. Dobby can find Wheezy robes. Dobby will make sure to find ones that work with Wheezy’s skin tone and eyes. Arms out Wheezy!”

“Um” Ron says throwing his arms out in a straight line at either of his sides. Harry grins taking a seat on the bed as the measuring tape zip and zaps around him. “Thank you Dobby. What do you mean with my skin tone and eyes.”

Dobby wrinkles his nose. “Dobby learned all about that while working for Malfoys Dobby did. Wheezy never dresses for the right colors, but Dobby knows which is best. Dark or falls yes, not bright.”

Ron had no idea what that meant but after a few minutes, the house elf proclaim he was finished and would be off to commission a outfit for the Weasley. Harry gave him a few galleons to pay for it, then he carefully folded up the old robes Mrs. Weasley sent Ron, to throw into a box under the red head’s bed, never to see the light of day again. 

“Now, what to do about your hair....” Harry starts but Ron raises his hands to his head, backing away from the other male who has picked up a pair of scissors. 

“Oh no! You are not coming anywhere near me with those mate!” 

“But-”

“No Harry”

“Fine” The boy huffs. He placed the scissors back on the night table near him and throws himself onto the bed. “I suppose we can find someone else to do it.”

That was easier send then done. Alas over the two weeks where they were waiting for Ron’s pending dress robe order, the two could not find someone who could do a decent cut and someone Ron trusted enough near his hair. They were so distracted with helping Ron for the big day they forgot about finding dates until Hermione reminded them the day off that Harry had to be on time with his date before hand to do the first walz.  

“oh no, I forgot about the date” His best friend whispered in horror as the two boys got ready. Ron himself was also in peril. The dance was to start in two hours and there was no sign of Dobby, his hair was still long and he didn’t have a date. Harry at least was wearing the robes his mother bought with his money and while he didn’t look like huge celerity of his status at least he had the proper attire.

“We are both so-wait. We both don’t have have...a date” Ron starts stating at Harry. The Potter stares back with a blank expression, bless his soul but the boy could be so dense.  “Mate we could go together.”

“Together? Wouldn’t that be...odd? Professor McGonagall said I needed a date, so people would think you and I are on a date.” Harry says slowly. He’s body language gives away to his discomfort but Ron knows Harry isn’t oppose to going with a bloke, he is just worried about how others will react. He gets like that whenever something from his upbringing comes to mind. The Weasley rolls his eyes.  

“Those muggles really do have everything backwards don’t they? Mate no one will care if you and I are male. Half the school is bent.”

“What really? Is this like the twins thing?”

“Twins are not that rare Harry. Almost every family has at least one set of twins in every three generations.”

“They are rare. In the muggle world at least.”

“Good thing we aren’t there then.” Ron then remembers he hasn’t gotten robes and wilts, throwing himself on the bed. “Though if Dobby doesn’t come back soon I understand not wanting to be seen with me in those dreadful dress robes Mum sent.”

“I’m not embarrassed by you Ron. Never. Your my best friend.” Harry says earnestly and the red head can’t help but crack a smile at that. He knows he has insecurities that can’t be resolved with simple words but sometimes Harry makes them a little bearable. “If you want to, please be my date. I rather it be with someone I know anyway.”

“I...” What does one say to that.  “I guess it be cool”

Ron cringed as the words left his mouth but Harry relaxed. The Potter looked at the time on the clock and shrugged. “May as well shower Ron. Whatever your wearing won’t matter if you smell like sweat.”

“Hey! I do not smell!” The red head shouts offended but the teasing eases something in him and he finds himself gathering what he needs for shower. Harry’s laughter followed him into the bathroom, until later when Ron was stepping under the water, Harry knocked on the door.

“I’m going to meet you there!” 

He shouted back a agreement, unable to hear of Harry walked away or not as he shampooed his hair. Half-way into scrubbing his body, a soft pop was heard and Ron screams as Dobby rips away the shower curtains. 

“Dobby brought Wheezy- stop screaming it only Dobby- Dobby brought Wheezy’s robes and Dobby will be helping Wheezy hair.”  The little house elf proclaims as the teen desperately tries to cover himself. “Out! Out! Much to do, Wheezy mustn’t be late!”

“Let me at least put some pants on!”

The House elf plants the boy into a chair, and snaps his fingers into three rapid sessions, a comb, sessions and a spray bottle flout around the Weasley who eyes the items with true free.  “Dobby do you know what you are doing?”

“Dobby has personally cared for Lucius Malfoy’s hair since he was seven! Dobby knows what to do!” 

Thinking of the man’s long fabulous hair “Alright...”

Later Ron is rushing to get to the meeting point. He barely had time to check his reflection since Dobby insisted on another shower after the haircut, and that he help him into the dress robes. He was also spread with some kind of cologne but when it came to see how he look he was honestly stun.

The fall color- which turn out to mean colors ranging from red to browns in different shades. Ron’s were dark red with dark brown- dress robes Dobby picked out for him fit him to the perfect cut meant to highlight all of his best features. They hugged his upper chest and arms but it wasn’t like the hand-me-downs that he got from his siblings who were all broader and shorter then he.

For as long as he could remember Ron had always felt like he was a weed kind of built, tall but scrawny. He never imagine getting clothes that were meant to fit him made him look so different. He seems lean.

His hair was cut shorter now too, not in layers that he had worn since young but more posh and even. Ron never thought he would look good like that but the cut made him look nice, make his eyes pop and his freckles stand out. 

He liked it. 

He really did. 

For the first time, he felt good. 

Harry was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs the other champions and their dates already there and Ron was surprise to see Hermione hanging off of Victor Krum’s arm. Merlin but she looked like a goddess. 

Ron felt himself flattered for only a second because Harry looked up and his already large eyes widen.  “Ron! You look amazing!”

The others were also looking stun and with more confidence he made his way to his best friend. Hermione claps her hands  “Ron, you look great. Confidence makes you very fetching!”

He felt his face heating up. Harry presses his shoulder to his, short the boy may be but it makes it easier to speak “Thanks ‘Mione. You look beautiful.”

Around them more and more people start to hand out compliments and Ron thinks, this, this might be his thing. He could be the pretty Weasley. He could learn how to dress well and maybe he could ask Dobby to teach him. Maybe Ron could even learn how to make his own clothes, or make modifications to the hand me downs so they fit as they should. So he could look lean all the time. 

He knows it could be shallow but...

but he deserves to feel good, to look in the mirror and like what he sees. At least that's what Harry says as they stumble through the first waltz grinning at each other for being goofs and Hermione encourages his idea later while the three get some punch. 

She claims it doesn’t matter what others think because it’s self-care and self-love, something she is always up for. Ron gives her a goofy smile, and then Harry invites him to another dance, while they are dancing- this song a upbeat one and not a formal waltz thank goodness- his best friends stares a little at him before blurting.  “Ron, I think I like girls and boys.”

The red head raises a brow,  “yeah? Is it Cedric?”

Harry shakes his head.  “No. I won’t tell him yet I just...wanted you to know. Have I told you how nice you look?”

“At least a dozen times mate, but thanks.” He laughs as the two spin around avoiding a different pair.  “Tell that bloke soon yeah? You deserve someone nice.”

Harry blushes “I’ll tell him. Thanks Ron.”

[joonie-beanie]

Unspoken Affections

Paring: Bean (MC) x Lucifer

Word count: 2,059

This is a short story for my MC Bean, and Lucifer.

To get a brief understanding of Bean and Luci’s relationship, I suggest clicking the link above and reading Lucifer’s section on the post. This story is basically when Lucifer finally draws out Bean’s feeling for him.

👉👈 I hope some people can relate to Bean, and enjoy the angst/fluff/comfort.

The moment Bean lays eyes on Lucifer, her heart skips a beat.

She’s inexplicably enthralled with him--his handsome smiles, his kind gestures, his everything. She wants to learn him, wants to be close to him in a way that his brothers can’t. She wants his affections--wholly, selfishly--all to herself.

But he feels so beyond her. His very existence is something crafted by god. Among the brothers, he’s the most powerful, and beyond that, he’s Diavolo’s right hand.

And Bean is just a human. A human who yearns for something far out of her reach.

She draws a line in the sand from day one--attempts to cut herself off from her feelings for the Avatar of Pride.

Don’t let Lucifer know you’re in love with him. 

It’s not an easy thing to do, but she manages.

She befriends the seven brothers, growing her relationships with them every day. And it feels natural, with all of them--to eat, drink, and be merry. To stay up late and do homework together, or go out on a grocery run in their company. Every relationship feels equal, and fair...until skinship starts being shared.

A bear hug from Beelzebub is met with laughter, and reciprocation. Bean throws her arms around Mammon or Leviathan without second thought. And if Asmo pecks her cheek, or Satan holds her waist, or Belphie hugs her from behind, she’s all smiles.

But the moment Lucifer appears at her side, fingers curling around her shoulder and giving her the softest of squeezes, she’s stiff as a board. Her face goes carefully blank for a split second, and it takes her a moment to regain herself--smiling up at him, and acting like nothing is wrong. That she hadn’t just reacted to his touch so vastly different than his brothers.

It throws him through a loop.

Had he done something to offend her? He doesn’t bother questioning Bean, in the moment. He lets it go, and decides that he’s likely overthinking. Perhaps his show of affection had been unexpected.

So, he tries to exhibit his affections more often. A headpat here, an arm around her waist there. Yet, all shows are met with fake smiles, and carefully picked reactions. 

Lucifer, despite himself, starts to get frustrated.

Bean acts as if nothing is wrong following those moments. She continues her relationship with him as normal--checking on him when he works too hard, keeping him company in his study on late nights, bringing him meals if he can’t find the time to pull away from his work.

She exhibits a kindness to him that feels genuine, and intimate. He has caught her on more than one occasion simply watching him--a fondness reflected in her eyes that has his heart beating a bit faster.

When she’s not being careful, he can read her affections for him clear on her face. And yet, when he tries to draw out those affections, his attempts end up futile. She shys away--locks her feelings behind a poorly constructed veil. 

And for what it’s worth, Lucifer strives to be understanding. He waits, and gives her space, hoping that one day she will open up to him. Yet, weeks pass, and he’s left watching from the sidelines as Bean showers her brothers in her physical affections, but not him.

He still receives her love--through late night conversations, and freshly brewed cups of tea--but he craves what his brothers have. Doesn’t understand why he’s the outlier among his siblings. He has been nothing but kind to Bean--has opened himself up to her more than he has to anyone in the last millennia. And it’s clear that she loves him--that she cares for him just as equally as any of his brothers. 

So why won’t she allow him to get close?

Finally, he decides to breach the topic.

“Why do you reject my shows of affection?”

Bean is sitting on the couch in his study, DDD in her hand, when he speaks those fateful words. Her fingers still, eyes widening ever so slightly as she turns her head up to stare at him. She hadn’t even heard him stand from his chair, or make his way to her side. But here he is, towering over her--leaving her nowhere to run.

Lucifer can see her scrambling for a lie to come up with. Even if she tries to cover-up how flustered the question has made her, he can see it in the way her body reacts. He has been around her too long now--he notices the little things about her, the tiny habits her body has when she’s startled, or mad, or happy.

“I--”

“I am no fool, June,” he speaks plainly, leaning down to her eye level. Her gaze darts away, flustered by the close proximity, and the way her real name sounds when spoken by the Avatar of Pride. Lucifer reaches a gloved hand forward to grasp her chin. He continues once he has guided her gaze back to him--her pink tongue poking out to wet her dry lips.

“I see the way you interact with my brothers, and the way you interact with me, and there is a difference. You’ve allowed the others the right to adore you--to touch you, however they wish--,” his voice softens, crimson eyes trailing down her neck. He spots the faint marks that linger on her skin, barely visible to anyone who isn’t searching for them. “--but it seems that such a right has not been given to me,” his heavy gaze jumps back to hers, and he sees the blush that has spread on her cheeks--can practically hear the way her heart has sped up within her chest.

“Why?”

He releases her, gives her space to think, but doesn’t move far. Lucifer won’t allow her to skirt around him this time. He wants to hear the truth. 

“Lucifer…”

Bean has been dreading this moment--trying so desperately to avoid it for as long as possible. She doesn’t want to express her adoration. The amount of love inside of her that solely belongs to Lucifer is overwhelming, and she feels that if she admits it, the dam she has so helplessly crafted will break, and everything--every feeling--will come flowing out at once.

And what will Lucifer say, then, when she admits that she loves him? That she has longed for him since day one, and has wanted nothing more than to be his? Surely, someone like her will be rejected. Lucifer is an ex-angel, a powerful demon, an otherworldly being who she cannot live up to, no matter how hard she tries. 

She cannot match him. And he deserves better.

And yet, Lucifer has no plans of letting her escape the current conversation. He won’t let her leave until her feelings for him have been aired.

Bean wants to run away--far, and fast.

Without warning, she presses to her feet, and faces Lucifer. His eyes widen in surprise, taking in the brilliant blush that has spread across her face. She looks embarrassed, and angry, and sad all at once.

“I love you,” she says. “So much. Too much.”

Lucifer falls silent at her words, confused, and elated. He only snaps back into reality when Bean slides past him, making a break for the door.

He’s quick to grab her wrist--twirling her around and wrapping his strong arm around her waist, so their fronts are pressed together. She raises her hands to push against his chest, but her attempts to disconnect herself are fruitless. 

“If you love me then why do you act like this?” Lucifer gives her a squeeze, emphasizing his words. 

Bean goes still in his grasp. Her forehead knocks against his shoulder, defeated, and he can feel her shakily exhale.

“Because you’re too good for me.”

Her voice warbles as she speaks the words, and Lucifer can sense the sadness in her soul. The heartbreak that she’s placed upon herself, before ever giving him a chance to reciprocate her feelings. 

Her fingers shake where they rest against his shirt, emotions overwhelming her, just as she had feared. And she tries to calm herself down--tries so very desperately to shove her feelings back into their cage--but Lucifer thwarts her attempt. 

His gloved fingers brush over her flushed skin, moving her hair from her face. He cups her cheek, beckoning her to look at him, and the soft look of affection shining in his eyes breaks her. 

Tears well in her eyes, fingers fisting in his shirt.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

She sobs the words, breaking down in his arms, unable to control herself. This is not what she expected. This is not the rejection she had mentally prepared herself for time and time again. 

The love she sees in his crimson gaze scares her as equally as it thrills her. Her deepest fears and insecurities rise to the surface, reminding her of her imperfections--of all the reasons she had ever felt inferior to the Avatar of Pride. She wants to tell him that he’s making a mistake--looking at her with such adoration. He could have someone better--someone shorter, or taller--someone skinnier than her, with a prettier face, and better qualities. 

There is no reason for him to love her, and yet, he does. Wholly, and truly. 

It shows plain on his face, as he stands there, holding Bean in his arms. He wipes her tears away without second thought--cradles her head and presses his lips into her hair as she hangs onto him--soaking her worries into his shirt with each hot tear that falls.

“Silly girl,” he whispers the words against her. She chokes on a laugh, sniffling. She’s finally beginning to come down from the barrage of emotions that have afflicted her. 

“I’m not silly,” Bean mumbles, leaning away from him as she lifts her palms to rub at her eyes. “I was really worried, you know? You’re just...you’re you, and you’re perfect, and handsome, and amazing--there’s no reason for you to love someone like me--”

“And who is someone like you?” he questions softly, his palms lifting to cradle her cheeks. His thumbs stroke lovingly over her flushed skin, clearing away whatever tears remain. “Someone intelligent, and kind-hearted? Someone who works-hard, and is mindful of others?”

Bean pouts at his words, but leans into his touch--craving the feeling, and the comfort that comes along with it. Lucifer breathes a laugh, leaning down to meet her. He tilts her chin up, connecting their lips softly, and Bean quietly moans--the sound full of longing, and satisfaction. 

Her hands lift to wrap around his neck, and she presses herself into him--deepening the kiss without second thought. She has longed for this moment, has dreamed about it too many times to count.

“I love you as well,” he whispers the words into the kiss, staring at her with half lidded eyes. Pride wells within him, his sense of self returning as he finally receives the abundance of love she has kept hidden for so long. The declaration of her affections for him sates Lucifer in a way he can’t begin to describe. 

He feels relieved above all else, but a hunger stirs inside him. 

He has waited too long for this moment--missed out on countless days and hours he could have spent loving her, had he only confronted her about her feelings sooner. 

He is jealous of his brothers, and the amount of time they’ve already had to love her--to have her in ways that he’s been unable.

Lucifer moves his arm to wrap around her waist, his other hand petting through her hair and cradling the back of her head. He kisses her deeper--open mouthed, hot, and wet--evoking tiny gasps, and wanton groans. 

And Bean melts into him, done fighting. She allows herself to drown in his affections, her hands moving to grab the fur of his coat as she holds onto him for dear life. 

By the time Lucifer pulls back, she’s blushing prettily, gasping for air. He smiles, fingertips soothingly rubbing through her hair. 

“Tell me again,” he says, pressing a ghost of a kiss to her lips. “Who do you love?”

She opens her mouth, no hesitation present, and Lucifer feels his heart sing. All those months hiding from him, and it’s only taken 10 minutes to tear down all of her walls. 

“You, Lucifer. I love you.”

He has a lot of lost time to make up for.

[celeste-clearwater-06]

Beauty and the Beast || Pt. 2

Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader

Part one if you haven't read it!!

Y/N woke up the next morning with a terrible ache in her back and neck, due to where she slept the night before. Her eyelids opened slowly, like heavy curtains in a royal ballroom, although her cell was far from it. She became aware of her surroundings, and the first thing that came to mind was the clattering of coins and jewels, being piled up without an end in the depths of the kingdom. The sounds of demanding shouts and carts rolling in to pay their toll with treasure.

She sat up, stretching as far as she could muster, and then twisted side to side, hearing the satisfying pops of her spine. Little light came into the cell, but it was enough for her to make out something in front of her.

Food.

She reluctantly reached for the (literal) silver platter, which had a small bowl of stew, half a loaf of bread, and a goblet of some dark substance.

She relished the taste of this well-cooked food, which was, albeit a bit cold, but still absolutely delicious. The cup was a well-aged wine that she sipped on carefully, making sure to take satisfaction in this rare meal.

She ate another piece of bread, leaning her head against the wall, and closed her eyes.

"I take it you're enjoying the meal?"

Y/N jumped in surprise at the sound of a Scottish voice, followed by a hearty laugh. A raven haired-dwarrow was leaning against the wall outside of the metal bars, with a large grin, and on his finger, dangled a key gold ring. Y/N glared at him, and his rather peculiar-looking hat, braided hair peeking from underneath.

"Yes. It was quite good actually, Master Bofur." She looked down at her fiddling hands.

"Aye, so you do remember me?"

"Of course. It's hard to forget 13 dwarves and a hobbit seeking refuge in your own home." A small smile crept up her face, "Have you come to remind me of your name, or something else?"

Bofur chuckled with a shake of his head, hat flopping along with it.

"No my lady. I've come to show you to your room."

"Room?"

"Aye. Our master's orders."

Y/N rolled her eyes.

"I don't think I should accept any offerings from your poor excuse of a king."

"Well, then the good thing it's not an offering from my 'poor excuse of a king'." Bofur started to unlock her cell doors, sending her a sly wink, "Kìli and Fìli are just as much in the line of Durin as their uncle."

Y/N nodded in realization.

"Princes."

"Now yer gettin' it," the dwarrow smiled, opening up the cell door, "Come on then lass. Let's get you to your quarters."

Y/N sighed, and then stood up, linking arms with the shorter male, and he led the way with a skip in his step.

The two walked over the huge paths of iron and stone, looking down to the piles of gold and jewels of every shape size, and color. Y/N gaped in awe at the sight of it all. It was very impressive, all the more reason to fall to the dragon sickness.

Bofur patted a hand on her back.

"Let us hurry, Lady Y/N. We'd best hope the King doesn't catch us moving you."

She nodded, tearing her eyes away from the stunning spectacle below their feet, and let him lead the rest of the way to her new room.

Soon, the duo stopped at a pair of enormous oak doors, trimmed with intricate gold designs that led up to the shining doorknobs. And if that wasn't enough...

Bofur looked over his shoulder, before carefully opening the entrance revealing a beautiful chamber bedroom. On the opposite side, a mahogany canopy bed, laced with dark red and black drapes that matched the ones on the slim glass windows sitting on either side. The floor was partially covered with a fur rug, made from a thick-coated animal, though it was one Y/N was unable to identify.

The room, although beautifully decorated, was dark and musky, dust coating almost every surface, and a fireplace to her left had very seldom been used.

"A-are you sure this room is for me, Master Bofur?" Y/N managed to get out.

"Why of course! Only the finest, from our princes. Is it not to your liking, my lady?"

"Oh no! I love it, but..."

"You're a prisoner?" Bofur finished her thought.

Y/N nodded, still looking around in awe.

"You are still a human, much less a Lady. I understand our leader can be a bit cruel,"

Y/N scoffed.

"However, he is not heartless. This dragon sickness has hurt him more than you could know." The dwarrow shook his head solemnly.

"I can see that very clearly... But, what is this room even for?"

"The King's sister, Princess Dis. She's to be expected when the Arkenstone is found, but for now, I don't think she'll mind if you use it."

Y/N nodded.

"Well, I should be off. I've got more digging to do," the gentleman gave a tip of his floppy hat and a wink, "Expect a visit from the princes very shortly, lady Y/N."

"Thank you Master Bofur." Y/N waved and then turned around at the sound of the clicking door, and fumbling of keys in a lock.

After confirming that he was gone, the young heroine walked over to a large vanity, wielding a mirror that had been neglected for many years. Its shine was long gone, covered by dust and fading paint. She reached a delicate hand out, wiping away the residue, and observed her reflection, her tired, tear-stained eyes, and rosy cheeks that were red from the cold floor of the cell.

Y/N sighed, turning away, and then noticed the huge bed from before. Although it was a childish thought, she wanted so badly to run over and leap onto it. And that's just what she did. She jumped up and landed on the bed with an unsatisfied cough, the dust, and lint flying up from the heavy sheets and duvet cover.

"So much for elegant..." Y/N muttered, dusting off her fur cloak. She looked up through the boards of the canopy bed, and to the beautifully painted ceiling, covered with detailed images of clouds, nude Dwarves seated regally seated upon them. She gave a slight chuckle.

An abrupt knock stirred her daydreaming, and she shot up.

"The door is open..." Y/N called.

"Aye, clearly it's not, since we're having to open it." A familiar voice called. Prince Fìli and Kìli, the sister-sons of Thorin, peeked their heads through the doorway with precarious grins.

"Ah, I suppose it's open now..."

"I take it the room is to your liking, Lady Y/N?" Fìli asked smoothly, striding through the door, and shortly behind, followed his younger brother.

"It is quite nice," The girl nodded, "Tell me, Princes under the mountain... Why did you call to give me a room?"

"It's the least we could do, my lady." Kìli smiled.

"You sheltered us and fed us and kept us warm when nobody else in Lake-Town would even bother." Fìli added.

"Really, it was no problem. But seeing as I'm a thief, I don't understand why I'm getting such royal treatment. Your uncle has taken a deep disliking to my brother and I."

The prince's shared a worried glance.

"We understand that our Uncle has fallen under this sickness. Ever since he'd gotten ahold of the stone, he's gone completely mad."

Y/N scoffed.

"And to that, I can agree. Does he endure this idea of me taking your mother's room?"

"He does not know..." Fìli whispered.

"He'll find out soon enough, dear brother. Uncle will just have to tolerate it. In our book, he's done quite enough damage." The dark-haired prince clapped a hand on his older sibling's shoulder, "Besides, a prison cell is no place for such a lively lady as yourself." He winked in her direction. Y/N smiled softly, looking down at her hands.

"Your kindness is greatly appreciated. I do take it to heart."

"We hope you do. You should join us all for dinner in the great hall, my Lady." The blonde smiled.

"Would Thorin allow it? I'm sure he'll already be furious with me taking a room..."

"Well, he hardly joins our Merry feasting anyways. To obsessed with that stone, and trying to become ruler of Dale."

The three were silent for some time before Y/N sighed.

"I'll consider your offer, although no promises can be made."

"Fair enough." Kìli grinned.

"We hope you see you accordingly, Miss Y/N." Fìli bowed shortly, and then took his brother's arm as they left the room, leaving their "captive" in quiet once more.

[between-the-alchemist-and-god]

Dear Victor, Please Answer (Ernest study)

[click here to read on AO3]

Summary: On a cold winter night, as a snowstorm buffers at his windows, Ernest attempts to draft a letter to his late brother Victor Frankenstein.

Notes: CW // allusions to death, mention of incest (Victor and Elizabeth, but they don't have feelings for each other it's just their wedding), allusions to chronic illness.

Word Count: 2499-2511 depending if you ask Google Docs or AO3

Story after the cut

~~~

Dear Victor,

Ernest’s hands paused, twirling his quill between his fingers as he contemplated that phrase. Some of the ink bled onto his fingertips.

Dear Victor. Two words with the world as their shadow. How many times had Elizabeth written them? Henry? How often had Ernest wished to dip a pen into the ink and hash out those letters?

Would this be the last of them?

Ernest looked up from the paper, ripping his mind from the ancient memories unlocked between the familiar strokes of his pen. The window before his desk glimmered with ice. The panes had frozen with intricate designs of frost, like someone had traced their finger over the mountain silhouetted by the setting sun in the distance.

Winter had fallen so quickly. Ernest hardly had enough time to dust off his thicker coats before the mornings had grown later and the daytime shorter. A storm strong enough to blanket the entire house in white was coming soon, he was sure of it.

Ernest could never properly enjoy winter. His father used to preach about how he was “too frail for the cold but too stubborn for the fire.”

While other kids of his class and age would go about their days with more layers, drenching themselves in snow, Ernest’s winter was often spent huddled under blankets or trying not to singe himself as he embraced the fireplace in the hall.

This year, he didn’t even have the comfort of a home.

He had a house, mind. A large house at that. A house full of so many rooms and so many ghosts that he should be dead before he salts it all.

But ghosts weren't much company anyway.

The thing about houses and ghosts is that they don't do much but sit there and rot. Just last week the roof had begun to creak in an alarming fashion, and Ernest was sure some rodents had found their way from outside into the walls.

These developments had not worried him in the autumn as the season passed by, like a cow trudging up a hill to snowy days and freezing nights. But as winter took hold of the land and grew colder, so did the rooms, and so did Ernest. Where he was lethargic and blissful in the summer, this winter reality struck him awake with icy winds.

Ernest stared at the window. It was closed, but a deep chill still lay deep in his chest, regardless of whether the wind pushed at the walls or not.

His eyes shifted downward to the floral patterns etched into the window frame. Perched atop the wood stood a small carving of a dove, its dusty body curving toward the heavens, beseeching its maker for unknowable desires with rounded eyes.

Ernest eyed it for a moment.

His mother had loved doves in the way that all compassionate people did, for their symbolism and their association with large, over-romanticized events. Her dresses, her accessories, and even her make up all held that same disposition as a dove about to take flight, an olive branch in its beak.

Caroline had believed in that branch—that simple twig carved from nature and hearts willing to change. Her dying wish rested on that simple twig.

It was a dying wish never to be: Her wish for her eldest children to marry.

Ernest sighed, eyes shifting back to his paper.

Caroline had put her everything into that poor, rotten, old twig. She did not notice the apathetic glances from Victor and Elizabeth nor the way they never spoke of it except at her prodding. And on her deathbed, her head stuffed with fever, Caroline had held out that wretched stick with such compassion. Such ignorance.

Up until her last breath, Caroline had held that branch tightly, hoping someone would take it.

If Ernest had been by her bedside as she fought for breath—if she had entrusted him with her woes—if any of them had only known of the cursed disease of fate running through his cursed family, Ernest would have taken it. He would have taken the branch before it could be snatched by the cold winds outside. He should have taken it.

His breath hitched, but his eyes did not water. Ernest clasped his hands around his pen to stop them shaking.

Victor should have taken it. He should have honestly taken that final offering, not picked it up like some wretched apple meant for the ground and smiled up at their mother, as if the twig hadn't stabbed him in the heart repeatedly since the day Caroline brought home his sister and expected all of them—him, Victor, Elizabeth, and Henry—to play nicely together like perfect little children.

If they had ever truly been kids to begin with, considering the mental anguish all of them had endured, ingrained into their very personalities and strong enough to drive all of them into madness—for regret, for ambition, for recognition, or for love.

Caroline thought Victor had accepted her offer, and this knowledge had brought her peace in her final moments. It kept her from this sickness of mortal minds.

She thought wrong.

Dear Victor, the paper taunted Ernest as he finally loosened his grip on the pen. Dear Victor.

Would things have changed if that branch had been anything but selfish? Passed from one soul-seeking hand to the next? Or was it converted, the moment it contorted along the family tree, to a broken bridge hanging between the romantic apathy of cousins?

Ernest finally moved his hand, and onto the paper the ink bled these words:

Dear Victor,

I never asked you, busy as you were in grief and study, just how Mother was in her final moments. Was she scared? Did she accept her illness with grace as I never could? Did she ever blame me for my absence? I do not expect an answer, but if you should find a way to give one, I will wait. If afterlife does truly exist I trust your first (and most likely final) apology for mortal affairs be to our mother instead of me.

Ernest lifted the tip of his pen and rested his elbow on the desk, rereading his words.

He remembered how that wish had ended, when Victor and Elizabeth had endeavored to go through with it. He had been present for the wedding ceremony of his brother and adopted sister, as well as the preparation and the tragedy thereafter.

William never saw such white as Ernest did that day. He never had the chance.

More ink bled onto his hand as the quill rolled between Ernest’s fingers. He pressed it deeper into the paper and carved the message:

Victor, Mother did not deserve all that we gave her. Nor did she deserve her death, just as our brother and sister did not deserve theirs.

Nevertheless, they are dead, and I can ask only the afterlife how they fare.

His hands shook and the nib of the pen bent oddly, threatening to break, as Ernest pressed it deeper into the paper.

A question. He could write a question, surely. Just one thing to ask his brother, and then he would know.

He hashed out the words:

Is William there with you now, or have you two been separated for your mortal paths? How about Elizabeth? Have you yet reunited with Henry?

Do you think I could see you all again some day?

At this final sentence, Ernest inhaled sharply. His hands lifted from the page like it had become the surface of a heated stove, and he grasped at the edge of the paper, fumbling with the corner. He glared at the ink-blotted message a moment longer, then ripped it from the wooden surface with an audible cut of air.

He crumpled the paper in his hand and yanked open a thin drawer which usually sunk deep into the desk’s rim. From the drawer he produced another piece of paper which he slid into the last one’s place.

It laid quietly on the desk, waiting.

Ernest pulled his quill where he had dropped it and dipped the tip into the inkwell once more.

The wind outside rose in volume as Ernest stared at the new canvas. The sound was a scream in the ghost-riddled yard of the house, and for just a moment, Ernest wondered to himself how many of his resting siblings had screamed that same scream in their final moments.

With a shiver, Ernest stared deeper into the grooves of the paper, urging himself to move the pen. When no such movement came, he sighed and slouched lower into the chair.

Is this how Henry felt, slaving at a desk covered in paperwork and a half-written poem hidden beneath it? Ernest remembered how Henry had often appeared in his room on summer days, driven in by the heat and a desire to get away from that horrid desk of work.

Henry spent most days in the Frankenstein house, in part for the company and in part to evade his father. When Victor and Elizabeth were unavailable to tempt him toward more exciting adventures, Henry would grab a paper and a pen, sit at the foot of Ernest’s bed, and write poetry. His voice was calming.

“I must not go bland,” Henry would say as he produced from his person a copy of Swift or some other poet's work (Ernest could never figure out where he stored them in a jacket so thin), “for my father thinks it best I abandon writing all together! Can you believe that, Ernest? Abandon poetry for whatever ‘business’ he wishes me to attend.” At this he made a displeased noise that held a few seconds too many, along with a pout up to the Heavens.

Ernest laughed at the theatrics. Until those laughs turned into wheezes. Then wheezes into gasps. And then he coughed until the mirth finally disappeared under the need for air.

As usual.

“He sets me up with lessons and work all day,” Henry continued when Ernest had finally caught his breath, glancing at him cautiously every now and again, “like I am some mule to carry his business for him.” Now he leaned closer, his tie of bright hair falling from the perch on his shoulder and mussing his bangs.

Ernest would pitch closer, too, so he could hear the words whispered to him.

“But I always manage to sneak a few plays in with me. The secret is to keep them under the jacket and say how cold it is every few minutes. Oh!” Pulling back, Henry reached for his paper and began to scribble. “That’s a good theme for something, don't you think?” He smiled at Ernest.

Even if given a thousand years, Ernest thought he could never forget Henry’s smile. Henry smiled with his whole body, like he had a candle stuck inside of him and transparent skin; he always smiled like he completely meant it. Ernest admired him for that.

Victor had, too. Sometimes Ernest suspected that Victor wished to be more like Henry.

But Henry and Victor would never be alike, for Henry would rather have his own blood spilled upon the ground again than be tarnished with what vile substance staining Victor's hands. If that substance had not been Henry’s blood in the first place.

In truth, Ernest knew what killed Henry had not been his brother. In that same vein, however, he knew Victor had a trail behind him. Sometime between Caroline’s sickness and William’s murder, Victor had walked along a path of red, blazing with a human desire to see the fundamentals of the world break.

Victor had always been ambitious like that. He always sought what he wanted, and very often received it—at least, in some sense.

Sometimes Ernest wished he had inherited such a trait as well.

He stared back down at the paper.

Ernest pondered at his desk for a moment, the winter storm making the walls whine around him.

His back straightened with resolve.

Maybe, he thought to himself, maybe I could try.

And so he began to write.

What Ernest realized in that moment was that he didn't want answers. He had never wanted an answer, even before Clerval disappeared, before the wedding, before Ernest and William’s game had led both his brother and his friend to their deaths, and even before Victor had left for that cursed school.

Ernest did not care why Victor had left them for a school so far away. He could live without knowing who had really framed Justine. He never even had to ask his mother just how it felt in her sickbed if fate forbade it.

No, Ernest didn't want answers. What good would an explanation do in this empty house in the middle of winter? No letter he could write would ever answer all—or even any—of his questions.

What Ernest really wanted—needed to do, before this storm caved the roof of his psyche and he descended into that madness rooted within his blood—was trust himself.

Trust himself enough not to make the same mistakes as his mother.

To be there when someone else meets their maker; to never again lose sight of anything of worth in his life.

To enjoy life and poetry as he never could as a child.

To hoist himself out of bed, not because he is sick, but because he has rested with a reason to go outside.

But Ernest could live without all those. They were meaningless sentiments for a grieving man. He did not need to fix all of his mistakes, nor did he have to prove to himself that his life could, indeed, go on.

The only thing Ernest needed in order to finally rest without fidgeting all night in his bed, or to stop those recordings of old conversations and faces from flashing in his mind, was to trust himself.

More specifically, trust himself to let go of misplaced sympathy.

With a long inhale, which made his eyes water as he released it, Ernest put the quill tip back to the paper. The lines were messier this time, margins less defined and letters spilling into each other.

But beyond that disorganization the paper read:

Dear Victor,

You were a brother and friend. I looked up to you. I looked up to your wit and your drive—that same wit and drive which drove you so mad that I still feel the bitterness of your delusions in my morning drink.

I hope your death was quick and fair to you, because I know that is all that you wanted upon your deathbed, unlike our mother who wished only for you and our sister to live on without her.

I wish I could ask for a final word to William, but I know you shall not see each other. Your egotism has surely damned you. So instead I ask one thing of you— Say hello to Zeus’ eagle for me.

Your brother and legacy,

Ernest

The snowstorm wailed.

[crqstalite]

Letters Home.

I made a mistake because this was originally meant to answer a prompt fill and then I forgot about it until now. So I tweaked it, but it still works I think.

I would rather not think about the fact the current majority of writing I've done for Lali and Joker is very angsty. That'll change, eventually, but it was begging to be written so here we are. It's a little shaky since I've written Joker himself maybe a grand total of three times but I'm happy enough with it.

Post-Thessia, minor (major?) character death mentioned. Lali/Joker.

"There's a new Blasto movie coming out, it doesn't look a lot better than the last one, but it'd be great to see with you when you're home again."

Her green eyes are still bright, her grin wide while she falls back on the collection of pillows decorating her bed. Her concerns then must've extended about as far as what was for dinner that evening, or tomorrow's assignment. Blasto wasn't one of her favorites, he knew that every time they'd watched one together, but she'd sat through every single one because it made him happy. Not that she didn't complain the entire time though.

It'd been a while since he'd been fifteen himself, but those concerns shouldn't have included Reapers in them.

"You must know about all the inaccuracies in the movies, huh? With the Council and stuff this has to be hilarious to you."

Joker isn't sure what feeling to name the one that's threatening to consume him while Hilary continues talking, rattling off that week's events. Teachers, classmates, her chores around the house.

The vidmail just seemed so normal. Everything had seemed perfectly fine when he'd checked in on them after they'd left Earth. Maybe that was an overstatement, nothing would've been fine but it was still manageable then. His father and his younger sister had intended to bunker down for as long as they had to, as long as they could while he'd promised them to try and get them off Tiptree. Nothing had seemed off. Nothing had seemed wrong. He thought they'd have time.

Six months later and he'd proved himself wrong. Time was in shorter and shorter supply. By the time he could turn his attention fully back to finding them nearly a week ago to do anything more about their situation, it'd been too late. He'd heard it over the extranet, part the long list of colony worlds flashing red every other hour. His blood had run cold while he'd hoped, prayed he wouldn't find his homeworld among the lost.

The galaxy felt like it stopped spinning when he did. In big, bright red letters, it'd said Tiptree, and he...it'd all felt like a bad dream then. That he'd look back and see it was some other colony out in the Traverse. Not his. It couldn't. It shouldn't have. It was so far outside of normal trade routes that it didn't make sense for the Reapers to seize it.

Yet they'd done so anyway. The last communications had gone out the day prior, and had stretched into silence since then. Where he'd be expecting a call today, instead his missed messages have remained dark. His 'tool won't connect to his father's, or Hilary's.

He almost misses when the door behind him opens, his hand missing the pause button on the video while he scrambles for it. He doesn't get a great glance over his shoulder, but it's enough for him to try and get his emotions back in check long enough to hold a conversation, "Shepard? Look, I'm sorry for what I said earlier."

"You've got the wrong Shepard, actually. I think." If the voice isn't enough to convince him, then the absence of anger in it does when he turns his chair to look at her. Smaller, softer, more concerned when Citlali pauses in the doorway compared to her elder sister. His girlfriend a sight for sore eyes, at least compared to her counterpart, "Sorry for scaring you, if I did.

"You didn't. Just, thought she was making the rounds again. And holding a grudge against your commander doesn't really bode well for you, as I've found." He can't find the energy to add a genuine laugh with the quip, and while Citlali smiles, it's one of the ones that's strained, "What? I feel like Alenko's walking proof of that."

"I guess, depending on how you look at it." She furrows her brow, maybe in thought, maybe in disbelief. He still can't read her very well, though it's not as if she makes it easy. Shaking off the expression, "Do you mind if I come in? You seemed...busy."

While Hilary's vid has gone quiet, he doesn't meet her eyes. The distraction might be better than nothing, even though he'd rather spend his time alone, most likely watching the last handful of mails from the month prior, "If you want to, sure. Did you need anything?"

"No. It's just...quiet around here. Thessia's on everyone's mind and it honestly feels too constricting." The door closes behind her, "If you're worried, Kodelyn's with Liara right now. I don't think she's going to come back up here for a while."

"Oh good. That'll probably give her time to cool off." Refocus her frustration with Thessia back towards comforting, always seemed like it fixed something in her. He might've been out of line, but he hadn't been expecting for her to explode at him like that. It seemed too out of character, and he hadn't been able to accurately predict it. The longer she spent doing anything else was probably extending his lifespan. Shepard wasn't predictable, but she rarely played the stereotype of the short-fuse Commander.

"Cool off?" Citlali quirks an eyebrow, "Was she mad at...you?"

"Surprising, I know."

"Weird. What'd you do?"

"Nothing." He says habitually, then sighs, "I don't know. Rough day for obvious reasons, she wasn't doing so well and I probably didn't make it any better."

"Oh." Citlali cringes, "She wasn't too upset with you, was she?"

"Probably not with me specifically. I just ended up as collateral damage."

"Collateral -- Never mind. She'll probably apologize when she's feeling more like herself. If she ever does." Her tone wavers at that, uncertainty on the other end of it, "Are you okay, though?"

His silence answers it for her. What does he say to that? Fine, only that I found out my home might be ashes and the only family I have left might be gone?

Well, he probably could.

"Sure. Fine."

Her smile's shaky, "Are you really fine, or are you just trying to get rid of me?"

"Never, I love spending time with you. You know that."

"Uh-huh. I'll suspend my disbelief, but only because you're sweet," She frowns at that, padding over to sit in the empty co-pilot's chair, turning it to face him, "If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. You don't have to lie to me though."

"I'm not. Just dealing with...everything. All of us have our off days." The screen blinks when he turns back to it, Hilary's expression still frozen in one of amusement. His chest grows heavy again, this one was dated a day before the Reapers came through. This vidmail, the one like so many others that'd come before it, was one of the last ones he'd ever have of her.

And when he received it, he hadn't thought anything of it. He wouldn't go as far as to say he'd taken the ritual for granted, but he'd thought he'd receive another one. And another after that. He was careful to watch every one, and send back another as soon as he was able. His had gone unread.

"Fair enough." Citlali leans back, blissfully oblivious, "Long day. Maybe way too many things happened all at once."

"You could probably say that again."

"I'll refrain from repeating myself." She chuckles, "Can't wait to get back to the Citadel. The rest this crew needs is probably ticking up towards absurd."

"That bad in your professional opinion?" He asks, "I'd thought we were doing just peachy. Y'know, with the Council trying to absolve themselves of guilt and the galaxy crumbling around us."

"Thank God for night clubs." She responds, leaning back, "It just feels tenser than ever. Can't shake the feeling we're getting towards the end of whatever this is, and it's making everyone jumpy."

"Probably, yeah. Hopefully it'll be longer than a day or two when Shepard's done with Horizon. It'd be nice not running from Reaper forces day in and day out."

"Too exciting for you?"

"Everyone has their limits. just seems like there are more of them than ever lately, and they all want a piece of us." That much is true. The other half is that he wants a chance to search. Search the Citadel, search the surrounding systems. Maybe Hilary would be with the refugees, and he just hadn't found her yet. Maybe she'd lost her 'tool. They'd never been great at remembering each other's codes.

One hell of a time to forget, if she was out there, all alone and surrounded by the unknown.

Citlali turns her gaze towards the front window, then to one of the screens in front of him from what she can see, "Thessia-related matters aside, if you're willing to share, who's that?"

He hesitates, trying to find an answer while his throat tightens around his words. All he can do is send a picture of Hilary over to her screen. She halfway smiles when she receives it, one of her out in the yard during his last leave. Yellow sundress, celebrating the first day of summer, "Friend? Family? She looks just like you. Same grin and everything."

"Family. Younger sister, actually."

"Aw. Looks just like you." Citlali smiles, "What's she like?"

"Like any little sister, I guess." What was there to say? Why is he looking for adjectives to encapsulate the sister he loved, and why is it so difficult, "Smart, kind, practical joker sometimes. Occasionally gets on your nerves, but you love her too much to stay mad."

"As all siblings do. Feel like she'd be fun to have around. Guess you missed out on the curly hair gene, huh?"

"Had it when I was younger."

"Is she looking to follow in your footsteps? A pilot just like her brother?"

The lump in his throat almost doesn't let him answer her, and he plays with the bill of his hat, "Maybe. I don't think she ever really said anything about it."

"Big shoes to fill, I get it." The smile fades slightly when he doesn't follow up on it, "Where is she now?"

His voice is raspy when he tries to talk again, "I don't...really know. I don't know if she even still is."

Her face falls, furrowing her brows once she realizes, "I- Jeff..."

"Evac orders were sent out to Tiptree a couple of days ago. No news since, only that a handful made it...somewhere. Liara didn't say where." The orange lights in front of him start to swim in the water collecting in the corners of his eyes, "I don't even know if she made it offworld."

There's a flood threatening to burst behind his eyes, delicately held back for the last few days just by sheer will. Just the thought of the planet being turned into Earth, Palaven, Tuchanka...hell even what he saw of Thessia turns his stomach.

They didn't live that close to any major city, but they still would've been at risk if they sent any husks out that way. Any of the other grotesque monsters they'd seen lately.

Had she been looking for him? When it'd all happened, had he missed her call while they were in FTL? Just by a split second.

The thought of one them getting their hands on her, one of the sweetest girls in the galaxy who'd done nothing but act as a ray of sunshine in his life, it kills him to think about.

His hands are wet, he doesn't even realize until he hears Citlali's boots against the ground behind him. Her eyes are searching his face when she kneels down next to his chair, holding out her arms halfway in a silent question.

He accepts a moment later, wrapping his arms around her. She hugs him back, a quiet whisper on her lips when she returns the gesture, "I'm so sorry."

The dam breaks.

Big jade eyes that match his, a grin she lamented about every other day. The figurine he'd brought back for her, the Normandy, on her nightstand just in view.

What he'd give to see her again. Hear her voice again.

The galaxy crumbles away, tears streaming down his face.

"I love you, Jeff. I miss you."

[bookandcranny]

Shortwave Radio

Why he decided to leave behind a perfectly good astral cluster and go sight-seeing on a spinning ball of dirt in this great cosmic nothing of a solar system is a mystery to the entire family, but it’s been almost ten years now and so they’ve all had no choice but to conclude that he’s not coming back any time soon. 

The right thing to do is to support him in it, so says tender-hearted big brother Hercules, and if that means jumping through a few hoops to attend some strange human ceremony in this hot and lifeless wasteland, then that’s simply what they’ll do.

summary: Five siblings from the stars come to earth by invitation of their estranged little brother, who’s only request to them is that they take a road trip across the American southwest and try to learn to see this planet the way he sees it.

content warnings: dysfunctional families, carsickness, strong language, fear of abandonment, and accidental misgendering of a nonbinary character

length: about 7k words

also, have a playlist!

🛸🛸🛸

On a particularly sticky day in late July, a black minivan rolls up outside Gruber’s Convenience somewhere in the vague liminal world of the i-110 out of El Paso. Shimmering like a mirage the vehicle comes to a stop and five figures shuffle into the station. Working the counter is a greasy-faced teenager who calls himself Benj, though according to his nametag he’s Benjamin until the end of his shift.

If he weren’t intentionally ignoring the group that just walked in, resenting the loss of quiet and the cool air that just escaped with the chime of the door, Benj would notice a few things about them. For one thing, while they all look quite different, all five of them are wearing the exact same clothes: pale blue t-shirt, gray jeans, plain white sneakers, not a toe scuffed or sullied by the dust they kicked up coming in. They’re perfectly inconspicuous outfits, but too new, too deliberate in their banality. 

The people in the clothes have much the same effect. They’re collections of ordinary, aesthetically pleasing parts assembled as if at random, almost uncanny at the wrong angle. Not supermodel pretty, but perhaps stock photo passable. One of them keeps touching things. Just, touching them. He trails his fingers over snack cakes and little pouches of corn nuts with an unreadable expression. Three of them are clustered together in front of the drinks fridge speaking in hushed tones. 

The last one of the bunch is hovering in the corner making eyes at the shop’s resident mascot, Garfield, an uncreatively named tabby cat who’s taken to sleeping on a box underneath the AC unit. The cashier does notice her (he thinks she’s a her) if only because she’s kind of cute, in a straight-laced camp counselor kinda way. He’s already building up an idea of her in his head, every atom of it more false than he realizes.

The Christine or Sydney or whoever reaches down and gives the cat a poke, which turns into an experimental stroke. 

“Mrph?” says Garfield, like cats do.

“Mrph?” parrots the... Liz maybe? No, not quite, he thinks. Garfield blinks at her, yawns. She withdraws, looking half offended by his indifference.

“Don’t take it personal,” Benj says. “He’s not very social.”

She looks at him for the first time and he reevaluates his earlier assessment. Eyes too pale, too far apart-- not ugly per se but definitely not worth the possible write-up he’d get for flirting with a customer.

“He’s the owner’s cat,” he babbles, scratching his chin and looking anywhere but at her. “Or so they say. Honestly I think he just showed up here one day and no one could get him to leave.”

Before she can reply, one of her matching buddies comes up to the register and dumps an assortment of snacks onto the counter. It’s a baffling, eclectic pile, but like any good retail worker Benj has long since learned not to examine anything too closely.

“Road trip, huh? Where are you guys headed?”

The radio behind the counter has gone all staticky. He fiddles with the antenna.

“Visiting family,” says snacks guy. His voice is soft and monotonous, a stark contrast as the guy’s built like a US SEAL. 

Benj looks from face to face. “All of you?” He’s having a hard time believing any two of them are related.

He nods, once. A stiff, decisive shake of the head. The crackling of the radio is getting worse. Benj turns it off.

“Will that be everything, sir?”

Another nod. 

“Herc, wait!” One of the man’s supposed relatives comes up behind him and shakes him by the shoulders. “Hercules, look at this.”

He slams a book down on the counter, one of the cheap paperbacks Gruber’s pedals between the condoms and the first-aid kit stuffings. The cover reads, “The Chest from The West” and features a heavily airbrushed model in a cowboy hat and unbuttoned flannel shirt.

“What am I looking at?” Herc asks.

“Get this too. I want to read it.”

“Why?”

He opens his mouth but whatever he’s about to say, Benj doesn’t really want to be present for it. He quickly scans the book and throws it cover-side-down into the bag. Let them work this one out on their own, hopefully somewhere else.

“Your total’s $29.75” He spins around to shake the radio, which is somehow now back on and blaring louder. When he turns back, the register is telling him everything’s been bought and paid for. Guy must be lightning quick with a credit card, he thinks.

“Huh. Guess you’re all set, man-- sir.” He hands them their bags. “Have fun at your family thing.”

He flashes the big guy a thumbs up. He looks strangely staggered by the gesture and replies haltingly, “Thank you. You also, have fun.”

“Come on, sibs,” the more energetic one chirps. “Cass? Cass, come on.” He drags his sister away from the cat, who’s just starting to warm up to her. “That’s you, remember? Let’s go.”

They don’t get any gas from the pumps outside. Benj is pretty sure he saw the testy looking one with the ponytail shoplift a bottle of off-brand cola, but he isn’t paid nearly enough to care. At least after they’re gone the radio starts working normally again.

Hercules drives, though it’s not so much driving as sitting in the driver’s seat and telling the van to go. Earth machines are simplistic and easy to manipulate. Slow though. Cass is riding “shotgun”, as is apparently customary for the navigator. Andromeda, Zeta, and Camelopardalis share the backseat, where the formermost is rehashing the same tired debate with the latter.

“We need to work out a better earth name for you,” he insists. “Myself, I’ve been doing some research and I’m thinking about going by ‘Andy’ from now on.”

“I’m not calling you that,” says Zeta.

Camelopardalis asks, “What’s wrong with the name I have?”

“It is a bit long,” Cassiopeia agrees. “A shorter one would help you fit in better.”

“Speaking of fitting in, something else has been bothering me. What’s your gender supposed to be?”

“My what?”

“You know, your gender. We all picked one.”

“It’s almost like you didn’t read the brief,” Zeta says, instigator that she is.

“It’s almost like none of you read the brief, that I took the time to write specifically to help you all acclimate to earth culture.”

“Zeta, don’t upset Cass,” Herc scolds.

“I’m not upset.” She turns in her seat to stare pointedly out the window. There isn’t much to look at, just miles upon miles of rolling desert interrupted by the occasional billboard or truck stop, all crawling by at a snail’s pace compared to the sort of travel they’re used to. Not that she’d recognize the analogy. She misses the cat.

Camelopardalis fiddles with their seatbelt. “Which one are you again?”

“I’m a ‘man’,” Andromeda recites. “Earth men are known for their physical prowess and carnivorous diet, they live in cave environments, and often congregate in packs called ‘fraternities’.” He waves the gas-station novel in the air. “I’m going to research their habits and perfect my persona. By the time I’m done with this I’ll practically be a local.”

“I don’t know… Zeta, what made you decide to be the other one?”

“Flipped a coin.”

“Women,” Cass informs them. “Can be most commonly identified by their long hair, fastidious hygiene habits, the use of traditional face paints to accentuate the eyes and lips, and by fleshy protrusions of the upper torso. Any of these traits can indicate an earth woman, though none are necessarily required.”

They throw up their hands. “How is that helpful at all then! Zeta?”

“What do you want me to do about it? I didn’t invent them. Hercules, are you sure these ‘snacks’ are safe to eat? They have a strange texture.”

“If you don’t like it, don’t eat it.” He punctuates the point by reaching back and grabbing a cream-filled cupcake off the pile. He tears the plastic with his teeth and eats half of it in a single bite. He barely tastes the thing, but he’s hoping if his siblings follow his lead their mouths will be too full to whine at him.

“Yeah, Zeta, don’t be a bitch.” Andromeda opens a pack of mini donuts, albeit more gingerly, and pops one into his mouth.

Cass whips her head around. “Where did you learn that word?”

He holds open the paperback and points to a page.

Austin hesitated. “I’ve never ridden a horse before. What if I fall?”

Derek chuckled manfully. “Don’t be a bitch, city boy,” he teased. Then he placed his large, calloused hand upon the small of Austin’s back. He leaned in and whispered, “Don’t worry, I won’t ever let you fall.”

The navigator leans over the center console and tries to snatch the book away but he dodges swiftly, clutching it to his chest.

“That’s foul language, Andromeda Alpheratz.”

“Earthers use this kind of speech with each other all the time. It’s a sign of familiarity and affection. You guys need to be less formal if you want to blend in.”

“If it’s meant to be an insult,” Camelopardalis wonders. “Why would they use it to convey affection.”

“Because they’re brutish, unevolved lifeforms,” Zeta sneers. “‘Blend in, blend in’. The rest of you can worry about blending in with the apes. I’m only doing this for Perseus.”

“We’re all doing this for Percy,” Hercules says in a chastising voice that makes even Zeta shrink down in her seat. “So can we please agree to be somewhat civil and not make this trip more painful than it needs to be?”

There’s a murmur of general agreement and peace is restored, however temporarily. Camelopardalis clears their throat.

“I still don’t really understand why we couldn’t land directly at Perseus Nine’s coordinates.”

Cass huffs, blowing a dark curl out of her face. “For the last time, Percy specifically requested we partake in the human ritual of the ‘road-trip’ for this last portion of our journey. It’s the same route he traveled the first time he came to earth, and apparently holds some sort of sentimental significance. It’s important to him we experience the same pilgrimage. For some reason.” 

She adds the last part under her breath, knowing full well the others will still hear her. They can hear one another when separated by countless miles of empty space, their voices resonating from star to star, clear as a bell. Compared to that, the close proximity of a rented minivan is stifling. There’s an uncomfortable intimacy to it, these crudely assembled physical forms pressed together, bloated and heavy with all the trappings of humanity. Sweat and road dust and gravity cling to Cass like an over-warm coat and she longs for the cool estrangement that comes so easily in the void of space. It’s tough to be a star-dweller away from her star.

“The reasons don’t matter,” Herc declares, and his word is as good as law here. He is the eldest of them, though the concept of seniority is abstracted somewhat by the literal millennia they’ve all lived through.

Percy is the baby, as well as the black sheep of the family, so to speak. (His actual moniker among their kinfolk roughly translates to “the dissonant note”, a scathing insult for those who knew what it meant.) Why he decided to leave behind a perfectly good astral cluster and go sight-seeing on a spinning ball of dirt in this great cosmic nothing of a solar system is a mystery to the entire family, but it’s been almost ten years now and so they’ve all had no choice but to conclude that he’s not coming back any time soon. 

The right thing to do is to support him in it, so says tender-hearted big brother Hercules, and if that means jumping through a few hoops to attend some strange human ceremony in this hot and lifeless wasteland, then that’s simply what they’ll do.

“At least we can check one more stop off the list,” Zeta quips. “What’s next?”

Cass checks her itinerary. “We are to visit one national historic landmark, one ‘tourist trap’-- whatever that means-- followed by a stop at ‘Diane’s Diner’, home of the world’s best pie. After that, we can head straight to the meet-up location.” She glances at the clock on the dashboard. “We’re a little behind schedule but we should make it right on time as long as there are no unexpected delays.”

An hour and a half of driving later, Andromeda throws up corn chips and mini donuts all over the back of Herc’s seat.

They pull over on the side of the road. The desert sand is just beginning to give way to sparse yellow grass, brittle from the sun. Herc steadies Andromeda, looking viscerally displeased as he finishes emptying out his recently manifested stomach.

Camelopardalis frets through the whole episode. “We’ve all been eating the same food, except for Zeta. If it’s poisonous, one of us will be next.”

“It’s not poison, it’s carsickness,” Cass sighs. “Honestly, I’m starting to think none of you even looked at the brief.”

“Zeta, look in the back for something to clean up with.”

“Why me?”

“We’re going to lose so much time…”

“Would you rather hold him?”

Andromeda retches.

“Do you think Percy would care if we skipped a couple stops?”

“Cassiopeia Sigma,” Hercules begins sternly.

“Alright, alright. I’ll figure something out.”

Fortunately they’ve happened to stop within walking distance of something called The Trinity Site, according to the map. Camelopardalis and Cass go ahead to check another stop off the list while Zeta and Herc clean up the van and make sure Andromeda isn’t actually dying. (How embarrassing, to be a quasi-immortal astral being only to perish at the hands of a tainted twinkie.)

They wander from the roadside, following the map and occasional signposts, and shortly find themselves standing in front of an ominous looking stone obelisk with a bronze placard affixed to one side.

Trinity Site: Where the world’s first nuclear device was exploded on July 16th, 1945

There’s more but Cass stops reading. Camelopardalis asks her to explain what the plaque means by nuclear device-- they’re familiar with nuclear power as a concept, fission and fusion, ideas not far departed from the system of energy exchange that sustains their natural bodies in the heart of their stars-- but goes pale when she goes into the relevant applications of said devices.

“Wonderful,” she grumbles to herself as she snaps a few photos of the monument with a disposable camera. “I’m sure Percy will be thrilled.”

“Excuse me.”

The pair turn to see a man in a colorful button-up and khakis and a woman with a day-old sunburn peeling off beneath the straps of her tank top. 

“Boy are we happy t’see the two of yous. Couldja take our picture real quick?” 

The woman holds out a camera, a significantly more professional piece of equipment than the one Cass is holding.

“Oh, sure,” Cass replies. She’s nervous as she takes it from her hands. She’s never encountered this sub-species of human in her research before, and finds it difficult to parse the woman’s peculiar dialect. Both of them are smiling, but they’re also showing a lot more teeth (and a fair bit of gum) than she thinks is normal. A subtle threat?

Nevertheless, she fumbles with the camera for a moment before managing to take a decent snapshot. The man wraps an arm around his wife’s waist and she slots herself in against his side.

“Ope, wait, let’s do a silly one to send to Marsha and the kids. Were my eyes closed? No? Perfect, you’re a doll. We’ll leave you kids alone now.”

“Sure,” she says again, feeling out of pace.

“My nephew wears his hair like that,” the man says without segway. He’s talking to Camelopardalis, they realize. “It’s very… hip.”

They touch their hair. They hadn’t given it much thought before, might not ever have if he hadn’t pointed it out. It’s nice, they think.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

His expression flinches into a puzzled frown. Cass smacks their arm.

“Sir! Thank you, sir.”

After they’ve walked away Cass gives him another jab for good measure.

“His hair was longer than the other one’s,” they complain. “And the chest was sort of fleshy. How was I supposed to know?”

“We’re lucky you didn’t cause an incident. Earthers carry weapons in this part of the world.”

They rub their arm. “I don’t know, they seemed nice.”

Still they give a fleeting glance at the plaque behind them and argue no more.

They return to the van, now blessedly puke-free. Andromeda is looking better too. They all pile in and almost immediately Camelopardalis misses the freedom of being able to move without touching somebody. It may be their imagination, but the car seems to be moving slower than ever.

“How was it?” Zeta asks, despite her obvious disinterest.

“Uninspiring,” is Cass’ reply.

The other nods and doesn’t force her to elaborate. “I wish I knew what Perseus intended for us with this… chore list.”

“It’s not important, we just do it.” 

Herc is always a steady presence, but even he is starting to sound annoyed with repeating himself. Zeta, of course, can’t leave well enough alone.

“If we just knew what he wanted us to do or say we could do it and go back to how we were before.”

Cass snaps. “Maybe you should stop complaining and make an effort for once.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

The car erupts into a heated four-way argument. Only Hercules resolutely abstains from comment, though his hands tighten into fists on the steering wheel. The fight doesn’t end in resolution so much as exhaustion. Everyone’s too miserable to keep hurling accusations and insults for the next hundred miles, and at length they lapse back into tense silence.

Zeta rests her head against the window, taking the arythmic rattle into herself, breathing it out in silent, frenetic melodies. She dislikes fighting with her siblings, no matter what they might claim to the contrary. It doesn’t happen often, or didn’t, but things have been different since Percy left home. The littlest star-child had a natural soothing presence to him, one that she’d long taken for granted. Earth is so noisy, she thinks. She strains to listen but she can’t hear a trace of him anywhere.

She tries to imagine what he’d say, if he were here.

“What are we even doing?” 

Probably not that, but she already has everyone’s attention now so she figures she might as well keep going.

“I mean, we’re still behind schedule, we can’t stop bickering, Andromeda can’t even eat right apparently, and I’m pretty sure half of us didn’t even look at Cassiopeia’s brief.”

“Are you getting to a point?” Cass asks irritably.

“I’m just saying we’re all… bitches.”

“Zeta!”

“Get comfortable with it! We’re all bad at this. Me, you, all of us. So can we just stop blaming each other and have a truce in the interest of getting this over with?”

Cass opens her mouth, then lets it fall shut, sinking back into her seat. For a moment it seems they’re heading for another long awkward silence, when Andromeda sits up and points out the window with a sudden urgency.

“Look!”

Herc slows down and they see a billboard lit up in eerie green neon light, directing them to the next off-ramp.

Must see attraction! Visit the one of a kind Ancient Aliens Exhibit! 

The star-folk look at one another.

“Is this what they call a tourist trap?”

“It seems likely.”

Andromeda is glowing-- in a very literal sense-- with excitement. “It’s an exhibit about us.”

“‘Ancient’? Speak for yourself, I’m still only in my six-thousands.”

Needless to say, they do stop at the roadside museum. Cass takes pictures aplenty and, to her surprise, actually enjoys it. Andromeda is disappointed to find there isn’t actually a display dedicated to their kind. Instead there are a lot of grainy photos of some squat, bug-eyed species called “greys” and diagrams of the Egyptian pyramids for some reason. He gets over it by the time they get to the gift shop.

By unanimous decision, they do not buy anymore snacks, though Zeta’s eye does linger on a cooler in the corner advertising “the ice cream of the future!”. Herc does however buy a number of souvenirs. (Rather, he convinces the automated register to record a purchase that didn’t technically take place, and bumps up the number in the bank account of one very nice tour guide while he’s at it.) 

They leave with a mood ring, a handful of polished stones in a small velvet bag, a “gravity defying” purple yo-yo shaped like a UFO, and Camelopardalis sheepishly lays claim to a friendly looking martian figurine with bendable limbs. Overall, spirits are much higher by the time they make it back to the van.

“Hercules,” his meek younger sibling ventures. “Could I try driving? I’ve been curious about it.”

Feeling generous and more than a little tired of staring out at the road for hours at a time, he agrees. He shows Camelopardalis the basics and makes sure they know how not to veer off the road or into other drivers and then he climbs into the middle backseat and stretches out his arms so the siblings on either side of him can tuck in against him and rest. Eventually even the diligent navigator Cassiopeia begins to doze. It’s been a long day and none of them are quite accustomed to the burden of having earthbound bodies.

When Andromeda wakes up the first thing he registers is that it’s getting dark, the day reduced to a slim red band sinking over the horizon. The second thing is the yelling.

“What do you mean you don’t know!”

“I thought I could read the map myself--”

“What about you, navigator? What were you doing?”

“--didn’t mean to--”

“As if you’re one to talk! I can’t believe--”

“--and you were the one who--”

“Shut up!”

Hercules’ normally subdued baritone booms through the van. The windshield wipers begin swinging as if in indignation, while the passengers wince and cover their ears. Andromeda can’t remember a time when his brother’s frequency had felt so violent. The shivering resonance it leaves behind makes his teeth ache.

There’s a pregnant pause, then Cass slams open the door and begins to pace.

“Shit!” she yells at the empty air. They’re parked in a field somewhere, no sign of life save for the buzzing of insects and the rumble of a train somewhere off in the distance. Cass kicks at the ground and screams again. “Shit fuck bitch hell! We are so fucking lost! And so fucking late!”

Andromeda winces again and gets out to try and calm her. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“It is not! We’re probably missing the ceremony right now. Percy will never forgive me for this.”

“It wasn’t your fault…”

“I’m supposed to be the navigator!”

“Well, yes, but…” The words come out strangled. He touches his chest and realizes he’s breathing rapidly. His eyes are beginning to water as well. “I should’ve… I didn’t…”

Zeta hurries over to him. “What’s wrong? Are you going to be sick again?”

Without warning he doubles over and begins bawling. 

“Hercules, do something! Something’s wrong with him!”

“Don’t… don’t… don’t…” he gasps and stammers.

Herc clutches his brother. “Don’t what? Talk to me.”

“Don’t fight,” he finally chokes out. “I don’t want to lose anybody else.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Percy,” he sniffles miserably. “He doesn’t care about us anymore. He has earth now, and all his new earth friends, and we can’t even do this one thing for him. It’s my fault. I knew he hated when I called him a dissonant note and made fun of his earth music but I did it anyway. Now he probably hates me and all of us and this whole thing has been for nothing.”

The eldest braces his arms on Andromeda’s slumped shoulders. “Percy doesn’t hate us. He invited us here because he wanted to see us.”

“Herc’s right, Andromeda. Percy doesn’t have it in him to hate anyone.”

“It’s not easy, but he chose this. He chose earth. We have to respect that.”

Zeta grumbles, “And just what is so special about this stupid planet anyway?”

“It has cats,” Cassiopeia says quietly. Her sister glares but she stays firm. “Well it does. And… people.”

“Strange, silly earth people,” Camelopardalis adds, nervously fussing with their hair. “Confusing and contradictory and fascinating.”

“People who hurt each other for no good reason.”

“People who are kind for no good reason too.”

Andromeda wipes phosphorous tears from his eyes and takes out the rumpled gas-station paperback. “In this book Austin leaves his job as a big city lawyer to follow the cowboy he’s in love with.”

“You think Perseus traveled to earth for cowboy love?”

“It’s a possibility!”

Cass scoffs. “I honestly don’t think he was thinking that far ahead. You know Percy. He probably crash-landed without any plan whatsoever. Or, he probably thought he knew what he was doing, and then when he actually got there he was terrified. And then he probably didn’t want to say anything because he was afraid his siblings would think less of him once they realized he was actually just as clueless about earth stuff as they were. That would probably be really, really stressful for him.”

“Are we still talking about Percy?”

She makes a wordless noise of frustration and kicks up another patch of grass.

Andromeda puts an arm around her. “If… Percy was worried about that, I’d tell her-- him! I’d tell him that he shouldn’t be, because there’s nothing he could do that would make us stop believing in him.”

She exhales. “Thanks.”

“I was talking about you, Cass,” he whispers. “It’s you I believe in.”

“Thank you, I got that.”

“I just… miss him, I guess.”

Herc hums in agreement. “Barely a millennium old and he’s already grown up and gone completely terrestrial. This past century has been the longest of my existence.”

“Hercules, it’s only been ten years.”

That news causes him to make such a face that Zeta starts laughing. It’s the first time she’s so much as cracked a smile the entire trip.

“So… what do we do now?” Camelopardalis asks.

After a moment, Cass grabs the map off the dashboard and holds it open.

“A little more light please?”

They step up behind her and hold a glowing hand over the paper. Her brow creases in concentration.

“Alright, I think we’re somewhere around here,” She gestures. “And we need to be here. There’s no way we’re going to show up on time, but we can still show up. We owe him that much.”

They get in their seats, Herc back at the helm, and begin trying to reclaim the distance they lost with the unplanned detour. Cass breathes a sigh of relief when road signs start to reappear. A driver honks at them as they pick up speed and Herc steers closer and makes their radio start playing at top volume. Zeta opens the window and a cool night breeze tickles her skin. The stars are bright and beautiful above them, and looking up, suddenly home doesn’t feel so far away.

All at once they slow to a near stop.

“What’s going on? Why are we stopping?”

“Traffic,” Herc says like it’s a curse. “Looks like there was an accident.”

“Take this exit,” Cass commands. “We can cut through the next town and get ahead of it.”

So he does and soon they find themselves driving through the quiet streets of Kismet, Nevada. That is, quiet until Zeta catches sight of something out the window and yells, “Pull over!”

“What! What is it now!”

She points, and they see. The sign ahead reads, “Diane’s Diner: Home of the World’s Best Pie”. They pull in so fast they nearly end up colliding with a stout aproned woman who’s pushing a teetering hand cart across the lot.

“What do you maniacs think you’re doing?” she demands as they clambour out of the van.

“I’m very sorry, ma’am,” Cass says in a rush. “It is just very important to my siblings and I that we get to this establishment.”

The woman huffs. “You’re a mite late then, I’m afraid. We’re closing up early tonight. Got a big catering order I have to deliver.”

Herc asks, “Are you Diane, of the diner?”

She laughs. “Close. I’m Maddie Finkle of the diner. Diane’s my mother’s name. It’s a family business. But what brings you folks here looking for Diane at this time of night? I don’t think I’ve seen your faces around town before, and I always remember a customer.”

“Do you remember a customer named Percy? It would’ve been years ago, but this place was very important to him. He’s our brother.”

Maddie’s eyes light up. “Why didn’t you say so! Of course I know Percy. And if you rowdy lot are his siblings, then I’ve got a message for you.”

“A message?” Percy hadn’t said anything to them about a message. Maybe this was his way of ensuring they actually made it to the last stop on his list.

“Well, sort of. Come, come, help me load up all this grub and I’ll tell you everything.”

Herc and Zeta go to either side of her and help push the wobbly cart to a truck with the diner’s logo emblazoned on the side. As they load the boxes, Maddie speaks.

“I first met your Percy when I was just a waitress, mama still working the kitchen. One day this kid walks in, looking as lost as can be, comes straight up to the counter and tells me he’s just fallen from outer space and could use some assistance.” She barks a laugh. “I didn’t go for the whole alien thing but that second part was a lot more believable. He looked a mess. I asked if he needed something to eat but he just said he needed a safe place to rest for a moment. He’d been on his feet all day, walking and hitchhiking his way clear across the desert.

“Of course I wanted to know where he was going that was so important, but he said he didn’t know for sure yet. Said he was following a melody, a song he’d heard from very far away that had drawn him to this place. I told him I couldn’t help him there. The only music we had in the diner was this old stereo system mama had put in when she first opened the place and it was long broken. Mama was too sentimental to get rid of the old thing and the repairman couldn’t do anything for it so broken it stayed. 

“He asked me to show him so I did, figuring it couldn’t hurt anything. Then that kid walked up to the busted speaker and just like that it started playing again like it was new. I told him, ‘For that, I owe you more than a place to rest your legs. Stay in town for a while, let us put you up and get you back on your feet, or at least let me drive you to the train station so you can get where you’re going.’ But he refused, and before long he was gone again.

“Then, not a couple days later, spaceboy comes back traveling with this other kid, heading in the opposite direction. I ask him what happened and he says he was going one way but he changed his mind and turned around. He leans in like he’s sharing a great big secret, like we’ve been friends all our lives, and says, ‘I found it, Maddie. I found the song.’ Weirdest kid I’ve ever met! But they make a cute couple, him and that boy, and they’re some of my best customers to this day.”

They finish packing up the truck, Maddie leaning leisurely against the fender as she reminisces. Herc frowns, confused.

“Was that the message?”

“Yup.” She pops the P. “He just told me to tell you the story. Not sure why. I mean, it’s a good story, I think. But you already know all about it, right? You’re his family after all.”

“No, he never told us,” he admits softly.

“Huh. Weird. But then, he’s kind of a weird kid, yeah? I always wondered, is it all you aliens who talk in riddles like that, or just him?”

“I thought you said you didn’t believe his claims.”

“I didn’t the first time, but if your Percy’s one thing it’s… Perc-istent.” When no one laughs, she pushes onward. “Well, that’s all of it. We’d better get a move on, huh?”

“‘We’?”  

“Sure, aren’t you folks on your way to Percy’s place too? I figured you’d be staying over, and I gotta get everything set up for the wedding tomorrow.”

A palpable shock ripples through the star-folk. “Tomorrow?”

“‘Course, what did you think all this was for?” She pats the truck. “I wanted to get everything ready ahead of time so we’re good to go in the morning. It’s not easy being the caterer and providing my lovely self as a guest on the same day, but I couldn’t let those sweet boys down.”

Andromeda slumps over, leaning on Herc for support. “Percy told us the wedding was tonight.”

The chef raises an eyebrow. “Sounds like someone’s been having a little fun with you. Nah, they’re doing some sort of get-together tonight since neither one of the bachelors wanted a bachelor party, but the actual wedding ceremony’s definitely not until tomorrow.”

“I’m going to end him,” Cass mutters under her breath.

“Hurry up now,” she says. “I’m sure the groom-to-be’s expecting you.”

The five follow Maddie’s truck away from the main drags, away from the buildings, the scenery becoming gradually greener as the road turns from asphalt to gravel. At last they find themselves pulling up in front of the house that Percy has come to call home. It’s a raised ranch, flanked by evergreens and patchwork plots of small white and yellow flowers that Percy’s fiance must have planted, and a tower of plastic chairs and tables covered by a tarp. 

It’s a nice place, large and somewhat secluded, set apart from the noise of traffic or threat of nosy human neighbors. Percy’s sensitive to loud noise and, after all, still an alien living in secret amongst humanity. Yet as they get out and follow the caterer where she’s cutting around back through the garden, they’re struck by the sounds of laughter and music and lively chatter.

A group of earthers are gathered on the patio, smiling faces lit by a string of twinkling lights. A man with a guitar strums along with the music coming from inside.

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Andromeda whispers. 

“You think there’s a second Perseus Nine about to be married in this town?” Cass shoots back.

Zeta hisses, “Quiet, I can hear him.”

To his surprise, Herc can too. Above the noise, laced into everything he touches, there is a resonance, his baby brother’s unique personal frequency. To describe it as sound alone would perhaps be inaccurate; it’s a vibration, an echo. Percy is everywhere in this place: his whispers and his shouts, his twinkling laugh, but also the part of him that no human being can detect, the part of him that is still, and will always be, of the stars.

He must sense them too, because in that moment he appears standing in the doorway, bathed in its yellow light. His face breaks out in a glowing grin and he runs to greet them, bolting like a comet being pulled into his siblings’ orbit.

“You made it!” he exclaims.

Zeta snorts and allows him to throw his arms around her. “No thanks to you and your list of demands.”

“You brat,” Cass accuses. “You told us the ceremony was tonight.”

Percy tilts his head to look at her, his expression not half as guilty as it should be. For a moment she reels at the sight of him; the body he’s constructed for himself has aged since the last time they crossed paths. It’s subtle, the way his dimples have deepened into true laugh lines, and his hair has grown ever longer, though it also isn’t as tangled as she remembers. He is still himself, underneath, the light of his true being faintly visible beneath the skin. 

“I was worried if I told you the real date you wouldn’t make it in time. You’re not used to traveling the human way. It can be messy.”

She grimaces. “You’re not wrong.”

“You’re actually here way earlier than I thought you’d be.” His smile falters, only slightly. “This is… everyone?”

Herc swallows. “The others…” he begins, but quickly finds he doesn’t have the words that should follow.

“Well, it’s not like I had enough chairs for all two-hundred-ninety-seven of them anyway.” He reaches out and squeezes his brothers tightly. “Hercules, Andromeda, It’s so wonderful to see you. Camelopardalis, Cassiopeia, it means so much to me that you came. I know it probably wasn’t easy. Zeta…”

She scoffs. “The only hard part was putting up with these bitches.”

Hercules interjects, “We shouldn’t keep you from your party. Go on, I need to get some things from the van.”

“You didn’t bring presents, did you?”

“It’s customary for weddings, is it not?”

Percy grins. “You’re becoming a real expert on earth customs.”

He shrugs and looks at Cass. “I just read the brief.”

Percy invites his family in, along with Maddie, who is perfectly tickled by the siblings’ awkward affection. After helping her bring in the food, Percy beckons over the man with the guitar.

“Adam!”

The man looks up. He has a boyish, freckled face and a head of dark curls that spill over his brow. He sets down the instrument and comes to slot himself against Percy’s side, thoughtlessly, as if that was always where he was meant to be.

“I’d like to formally introduce you to my fiance, Adam. And Adam, this is my family.”

His smile broadens. “Hey, great to finally really meet you guys. Percy talks about you all the time. Did you have a long trip?”

They look at one another for a moment until finally Herc shrugs and says, “Only about twenty-five trillion miles, give or take.”

The happy couple linger for a moment longer, sharing stories and talking about honeymoon plans. Adam is especially thrilled when Andromeda and Zeta begin to co-narrate an embarrassing tale from Percy’s childhood in the Alpha Persei Cluster. Eventually though the pair wander off together, leaving the star-folk to their most harrowing challenge yet: mingling.

“Sorry, what did you say your name was?”

“Camelopardalis.”

The guest, one of the couple’s mutual friends, goes a bit bug-eyed. “Wow, okay, that’s really cool. Kind of a mouthful though. Got a nickname?”

“Nick… name?”

“Like, something that your friends call you for short. My friends call me Dee, but my highschool nickname was Dent.” They point to a scar on the side of their head, just above their left ear. Their fair hair is buzzed short, making it easy to see. “Long story. What if for now I called you ‘Cam’?”

They consider it. “I think I’d like that.”

“Cool, nice to meet you, Cam.”

“Nice to meet you, Dee.” They hesitate. “Would you say you’re a man or a woman?”

Dee frowns.

“Nevermind! I’m so sorry, I just don’t understand the earth gender binary at all. Everything about it just seems so arbitrary and senseless.”

Oddly enough, their new friend perks back up at this. 

“Honestly, same,” they laugh.

Andromeda joins shortly, having struck up a conversation with Dee’s partner who is deeply intrigued by his review of “The Chest from The West”. The three of them spend a while swapping book recommendations. Meanwhile, Zeta gets hit on by a slightly intoxicated young woman with an undercut and an eyebrow ring, although the star-dweller vastly misinterprets her none-too-subtle questioning about alien biology. Cass meets Adam and Percy’s pet dog, Chowder, and deems him as good a companion as the convenience store cat.

Herc catches Percy alone in the kitchen and the two have a long overdue talk. It’s clumsy but earnest, and when Herc mumbles something out about possible future family visits, Percy throws himself into his brother with such vigor that he momentarily forgets about gravity and starts to float off the ground.

“I’m sorry too, by the way, for the whole thing with the list,” he sighs. “It probably seems pretty stupid, I just kind of hoped I could get you to see this world the way I see it. Full of life and love and adventure.”

“And music,” he finishes, catching the way his gaze flits back to the patio. To Adam, singing softly and dancing with one of their friends.

He nods. “I thought maybe then you’d understand why this is so important to me.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to see earth the way you do,” Hercules confesses. “But I don’t think it was stupid of you to try either, and I don’t think it was for nothing.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the mood ring. The friendly prismatic face of a cartoon alien glints up at him. Perseus takes the gift with an understanding chuckle and slips it onto his pinky finger.

“No, not for nothing.”

Tomorrow, there will be a wedding. Percy and Adam will stand in front of their friends and family and exchange their vows. Adam’s mother will complain about them not booking a proper venue for just short of an annoying amount of time, Maddie will bring out a ridiculously tall tier cake that will taste almost as good as one of her mother’s pies, and for once Percy will not be the worst one on the dance floor. 

Tomorrow, there will be a bright silver band around Percy’s fourth finger, neighbored by a smaller ring in the shape of an inside joke, and with all the weight of a promise.

[snappedsky]

Fanatics 87.3

Awkwardness abounds as Squee and Johnny and Devi spend time with their younger selves.

AU is Johnny the Recovering Maniac by the marvellous @devnny Check them out! 

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

--

Lost in the Multiverse Part 3

           Squee scrambles backwards, tripping over the edge of the crater he created when he crashed into the ground. As his head hits the dirt, he spots the large, purple rift hanging in the sky and stares at it with surprise.

           “Okay,” he breathes and sits up. The young Todd Casil stands on the other side of the crater, clutching his Shmee and staring at Squee with wide eyes.

           “O…kay…” Squee grunts and stands up, looking around. He’s on Grave Road. If it wasn’t for his younger self standing a couple feet away, he would almost believe he didn’t go anywhere. But he starts spotting small differences. Johnny’s house doesn’t have any glass in the boarded windows; the house that Colton’s family would be living in doesn’t have any of the flowers his mother plants. Instead it would be Todd’s family there now.

           “Okay,” Squee says a third time. “So I’m in…the past? But where is everyone else?”

           He looks at Johnny’s house. It looks dark and quiet and his car isn’t parked on the street. He hesitates for a second before crossing the yards and knocking on the front door. There’s no answer.

           “Hm,” Squee hums and scratches his head, wondering what he should do, when a shiver runs up his spine. He looks up at the rift in the sky just in time to see a bunch of figures flying out. Two of them head right for him.

           A pair of demons land on the ground between Squee and Todd. Their bodies are mostly human, but they have wings, tails, horns, and claws. They chortle excitedly as they glare at Squee and he flinches back.

           Todd squeaks fearfully and one of the demons turns towards him, licking his fangs. Squee scowls and draws his knives.

           He strikes first, startling the other demon as he charges. He barely dodges Squee’s swinging knife, the blade just grazing his nose.

           The first demon turns his attention away from Todd as his partner stumbles back. But before he can react, Squee drives his knife into the demon’s ribs.

           The demon roars in pain and tries to swipe at Squee with his claws. He lets go of his knife, leaving it in the demon’s chest, and jumps back to dodge.

           The other demon charges in and swings at Squee. He sidesteps it and swings his other knife, slicing the demon straight up the chest. As his blood sprays out, the demon chokes and falls backwards.

           The first demon rushes Squee and swings at him furiously with both claws. Squee dodges each strike and lifts his knife. The demon slices his hand on the blade, ceasing his attack, then Squee swings and slices open his throat. The demon collapses next to his partner.

           Squee pants as he removes his other knife from the demon’s chest, then wipes both blades off on their clothes. As he sheathes them, he spots Todd staring at him with a mix of fear and awe, and he suddenly feels very bashful.

           “Um,” he croaks, rubbing the back of his head, then clears his throat. “Are you…okay?”

           Todd nods wordlessly.

           “Good,” Squee nods and glances at Johnny’s house. “Um…where’s your neighbor?”

           “He…moved away,” Todd replies.

           “He did?”

           “I think so? At least for a little while. He said he’s staying with a friend; a girl, with purple pigtails.”

           “Devi?” Squee questions. “They’re living together? That’s…different. I wonder if she’s in the same place.”

           “Um…” Todd squeaks and carefully approaches Squee. “Are you…me?”

           Squee smiles awkwardly. “I think so.”

           He stares up at him with wonderstruck eyes and Squee looks away uncomfortably.

           “Um, I gotta go,” he says as he steps back and nearly trips on one of the demon’s bodies. He looks at them, then the rift in the sky, then back at Todd. “Uh…do you…wanna come?”

           Todd looks at the demon bodies, then at Shmee, then back at Squee and nods. “Shmee says you’re safe.”

           “He does, huh?” Squee grins and pats the bear’s head. Physically, he looks like a smiling teddy bear. But he can feel Shmee’s presence inside. And he smiles. “Okay, let’s go.”

           “Where’s your Shmee?” Todd asks as they walk down the street.

           “He’s back home,” Squee replies, “at least, I think he is. I’m not really sure. But I hope he’s enjoying himself.”

           “So where are we going?”

           “To find my friends. I think I know where to look.”

           Meanwhile, Johnny and Devi make their way through younger!Devi’s apartment building, younger!Devi, younger!Tenna, and younger!Johnny at their heels. As they go up the stairs, Johnny glances back at them, unnerved.

           “So, this can’t be like our direct past, right?” he questions, “cause I’m like eighty percent certain we never lived together. Also, there’s no fucking way I’d let you put a leash on me.”

           “Hey! It’s for his own good!” younger!Devi snaps, tugging on the leash that she has around younger!Johnny’s neck as he looks at her awkwardly. Johnny just scowls with discomfort.

           “I don’t know,” Devi replies, “are there like multiple pasts?”

           “I don’t fucking know,” Johnny grunts.

           They arrive at younger!Devi’s apartment and she lets them all in. It looks about the same as Devi’s apartment, but with more drawing stuff cluttering the coffee table and couch.

           Younger!Devi removes younger!Johnny’s leash and heads deeper into the apartment. As Devi and Johnny look around, they find themselves standing next to younger!Johnny. Both Johnnys flinch away from each other in disgust and younger!Johnny follows younger!Devi while Johnny moves over to the other side of Devi.

           “I hate this,” he growls, “I had a hard enough time learning to tolerate my physical being. Now there’s another one and on top of being another me, he’s a younger version, which just serves as a reminder of my…worser days.”

           “He seems to be doing okay,” Devi remarks as she watches younger!Johnny hang around younger!Devi in the kitchen. “Kinda…clingy though.”

           “And how are you doing?” Johnny asks.

           “Huh? Oh, well, you know, I mean…” she stammers awkwardly. “It’s…definitely weird. But I’m okay. I mean, who cares that she’s a few years younger than me and I clearly haven’t progressed at all in my art career. I’m still working at it. And that takes time, right? So…so yeah. I’m okay.”

           Johnny watches her worriedly as she looks away, rubbing the back of her neck.

           “My hair looks good though,” she comments.

           Johnny cracks a grin. “Yeah, it does.”            “Thanks.”

           On top of just looking a bit older, there a few more differences between the two pairs of Johnny and Devi. Devi’s hair is the most noticeable. Younger!Devi still has purple pigtails, while the older Devi has her natural black colour and wears it down, with one side cut shorter than the other. Johnny’s hair is scruffier than younger!Johnny’s and he seems less volatile but somehow more grumpy.

           The biggest difference however is how the two of them act together. While younger!Devi and younger!Johnny are comfortable around each other, they still seem very aware of each other’s presences. For Johnny and Devi, it’s the exact opposite. They’re standing much closer together, in each other’s space and brushing up against each other without even noticing.

           These are all things younger!Tenna notices as she observes the older pair from the couch.

           “Are you two dating?” she asks.

           “What!” Johnny and Devi exclaim in shock.

           “I just thought because it looks like you spend a lot of time together,” she clarifies.

           “Well…we do…but we’re not-we never-it’s not like that-,” they both stammer awkwardly. Then they stop as they realize how close they’re standing, and they step apart.

           “Um, okay,” younger!Devi says, mercifully interrupting the awkward situation as she walks in carrying a plate of crackers and cheese and a bag of chips while younger!Johnny carries two glasses of soda. They rest them on the coffee table. “I don’t have much food to offer but uh help yourself.”

           “Wow, younger!Devi’s a better host than you are,” Johnny comments as he sits on the floor by the table and takes a glass.

           “Fuck off,” Devi grunts as she follows suit.

           They also bicker like siblings or an old married couple, younger!Tenna observes.

           “So,” younger!Johnny says as he and younger!Devi sit on the couch. “Are you two just gonna…stay here…?”

           Johnny and Devi glance at him then look at each other questionably.

           “You’re the one who wanted to guard them,” Johnny points out.

         “Yeah, because it wouldn’t be fair if those demon fucks killed them because they’re after us,” Devi retorts, “but, I don’t know. I don’t know where the others are. Should we look for them?”

           “Where would we start?” Johnny shrugs.

           “Then maybe it would be better if we stayed here, at least for the night,” she muses, “maybe they’ll come looking for us. Then it’d be better to stay in one place.”

           “So you’re gonna stay the night?” younger!Johnny asks with obvious disgust.

           “I mean, if that’s okay,” Devi adds.

           “Well, you did save us,” younger!Devi says, “and I guess I can’t just kick you out since you’re…me. But I don’t know where you’ll sleep.”

           “I don’t need to sleep,” Johnny states.

           “Where do you sleep?” Devi asks younger!Johnny.

           “On the rare occasion I do, the couch,” he replies, “but you can have it.”

           “Thanks,” she smiles and younger!Johnny feels his cheeks flush.

           “So you two really live together?” Johnny questions.

           “It’s temporary,” younger!Devi replies.

           “How did that happen?”

           “I’m helping him recover.”

           “Huh. So kinda like what Squee did for me,” Johnny muses, “I’m surprised though that you’re so…forgiving.”

           “Yeah,” younger!Devi says, “it took a while for me to…get past all that. To be honest, I’m still not sure if I’m completely past it. But he did apologize.” She looks at younger!Johnny and smiles. “Which I appreciate.”

           Younger!Johnny smiles awkwardly and fidgets in his seat.

           “Hm,” Johnny grunts thoughtfully and glances at Devi. “Did I ever…apologize to you?”

           “Not in so many words,” she replies.

           He looks away, rubbing his head. “I’m sorry I tried to kill you.”            Devi smiles warmly and leans into him so their shoulders touch. “I know.”            Tenna glances between the pairs of Johnny and Devi. “Wow, I’ve never been a fifth wheel before.”

           Both pairs quickly look away and move away from each other, feeling very uncomfortable and aware. Awkwardness fills the air and Johnny grumbles, “I hate this.”

[unmaskedagain]

Ladybug in Gotham (and Space)

This is part 2 of Ladybug in Smallville

Marinette stood on the rooftop, fidgeting her hands nervously. The harsh freezing winds that promising the coming of autumn left her covered in goosebumps as her simple black peasant blouse and her knee length red plaid skirt; even with the black stockings.  She had done her utter best to look as nice as she could. Her bluish black hair, longer than it ever was before, was tied back in a pretty red bow. She wore a cropped leather jacket and shiny black combat boots that gave her school girl look a nice rocker edge to it. (Marinette really just hoped it made her look tough.) She had simple black purse on her shoulder where Tikki hid from the cold. Her make-up was natural, apart from her movie star red lips. Unfortunately, apart from her earrings, she wore no jewelry to complete the looks as she had been warned about the city of Gotham long before she ever came to the United States. It was because she was in Gotham that Marinette had fighting staff with her. It had belonged to Master Fu. He had taught her how to use it whenever he had the time.

Her Uncle Clark stood protectively next to her. Or rather Superman stood next to her. It was late, but between the overhead of clouds in the sky and the bright lights of the city, honestly, Marinette wouldn’t be surprised if most people couldn’t tell. They had landed, LITERALLY, on the roof the tallest building in the most dangerous city in the world not long ago; but honestly with the building in her stomach, they could’ve been waiting anywhere between ten minutes and an hour, and Marinette wouldn’t have doubted either. Not with the way she felt. Not with the shivers that went down her spine at every shadow that seemed to move and jump at her.

Unconsciously, Marinette leaned against Superman like she used to do with her father when she was a little girl and a scary movie was on.

Superman put a hand on her shoulder and looked down at her with a small smile, “It’s okay,” He assured her. “He’s not as scary as people make him out to be.”

Marinette shot him a look. Yeah, right. The Bat of Gotham. The terror of the night wasn’t as scary as people said. “And Lex Luther isn’t bald either.” The retort earned a chuckle from the man in blue. “Are you sure about this, Superman? I heard what happened with Darkseid. And what he did to Bane. Batman could totally take over the world.”

“Too much paperwork,” A voice growled behind them.

           Marinette yelped, jumped like ten feet the air, spun around, and did the one thing she knew cost her, her life…

           She wacked Batman in the face with her bo staff. With all the strength and skill she earned from years of being Ladybug, she kicked the momentarily stunned Bat in the chest, the force of the hit sent Batman over the edge of the roof.

           It went silent again. As both Superman and Marinette processed what just occurred. Superman’s face portrayed his shock as he mouth was agape and his eyes wide.

           Marinette swallowed hard and nodded seriously. “It’s time to go home,” She told her Uncle. “I, um, I don’t think we’ll be getting any help from Gotham, anymore.”

           Superman just blink. And then blinked again. He shook his head, “What?” Superman asked confused, still a bit stunned. “You hit Batman in the face.”

“He came out of nowhere,” Marinette defended. “He stuck up on us. Who sneaks up on people in Gotham? It’s his own fault.”

“You kicked him off the roof!”

“Still his own fault!”

“Marinette!” Superman face palmed.

“He should’ve known better!”

           The sound of a throat clearing broke up the squabbling Uncle and Niece. The turned around and saw Batman with a severe glare on his face.

“Yeah,” Marinette sighed, “This is when I die.”

           That got Superman’s attention. He wrapped an arm around his niece’s shoulders, and shot a glare back at Batman. “He’s not going to kill you,” Superman promised, “Batman doesn’t kill, right?” He looked expectantly at the Dark Knight.

           Batman didn’t answer, just continued to stare at Marinette.

“Really?” Marinette questioned. “He looks like he’s considering it.”

“You hit me in the face,” Batman growled, his voice low and nightmarish.

           Marinette crossed her arms, “You started it.”

           It was Superman’s turn to sigh.

           Batman stalked towards her. And before Marinette knew it, he was looming above her and she was making her peace with the gods. Marinette glared up at him, fire in eyes, and a smirk on her face as if daring him; faux bravado was all she had to stop herself from crying.

I don’t kill,” Batman suddenly said and stood back. “How old are you?”

“Why? Does my answer effect your decision to kill me?” Marinette smarted.

“She’ll be fifteen soon,” Superman answered.

“Who taught you to fight?” Batman asked her.

“My former master.”

           Batman nodded, “The guardian of the Miraculous. Before I received word from Superman, I assumed the Kwami gods were merely a legend.”

“Well, in their defense,” Marinette said, “Where I come from, people think the same about you.”

           Batman nodded, “You are Ladybug, the Parisian hero. You’ve done good work.”

“You’re Batman,” Marinette nodded back sagely. “You’ll be in my nightmares for years to come.”

           Batman smirked.

“Father!” A new voice roared as a figure landed on the rooftop. “Oracle said you were attacked.” A young boy, not much younger than Marinette, stood in a suit of green, gold and red. Robin, she realized. “She laughed, father. Promised video. She has failed at her job. What is the meaning of this? Who is your assailant?”

“Robin!” Another new voice as he swung onto the room. A older guy, dressed in blue and Black. “You can’t just sneak

“Silent, Nightwing,” Robin growled. “I have come to rescue Father.”

           Marinette glanced at her shoes and then back up at Batman, “Did you call your ten-year-old son to beat me up?” She smirked. He glared at her again.

“I am eleven years of age, girl,” Robin snarled at her.

“He’s just short,” Another voice answered as two more figures landed on the room.

           The taller of the two had on bright red bat mask and a beat up leather jacket. The shorter was dressed primarily in black and red with small gold accents.

“No one asked you, Red Robin,” Robin growled. “And no one invited you.”

“What’s going on, B?” The leather jacket guy said. “Why is Oracle declaring this the best day of her life?”

“She… is embellishing, Red Hood,” Batman said.

“Who’s the girl” Red Robin asked.

           All the newcomers’ eyes went to her. They assessed her. Each noticing her small stature. Her dark hair and her blue eyes. The weapon in her hands. The glare on her pretty face.

“Another one,” Robin roared. “Father, this is getting ridiculous! How many more siblings will you adopt? Have I not suffered enough?”

“Another sister?” Nightwing perked up and somehow managed to snag her away from Superman. Suddenly, she was surrounded by the newcomers. All but Robin towered above her. “Aww, you’re adorable. Cass is going to love you.”

“Did you learn nothing you from last bundle of joy,” Red Robin. “I swear this one better not try to kill me.”

           Red Hood shook his head, “You got a problem, B-man. Hope ya warned Agent A. Where’d he find ya?” He asked her.

           Marinette blushed, a little confused, but answered him, “I hit, uh, him in the face with my staff and kicked him off the roof.”

           The boys, all Robins she realized, just stared at her and burst out laughing. All but the youngest, who still had a smirk on his face.

“I have a new favorite,” Hood declared, a wide smirk on his face and glee in his eyes, as he wrapped at arm around her shoulders. “Yeah… that’ll do it for B,” Red Hood said. “Don’t feel bad, kid. I jacked his the wheels of the batmobile.”

“Enough!” Batman said, silencing all noise. “This is Superman’s niece; the granddaughter of his mother’s dearest friend. She has been staying with his family for a while now. I am not adopting her…?”

“Well that didn’t sound like a question,” Red Hood huffed.

“Yeah, he is definitely considering it,” Red Robin nodded.

           Batman didn’t answer them, which had Superman eyeing him. It wasn’t that he minded the idea of adopting Marinette. But they should discuss it first.

“Transform,” Batman barked the order at the young girl. He needed proof of what he’d been told, and then he and the league would make decisions.

“How about a please?” Marinette raised an eyebrow. “Or were not raised with manners?”

           The guys all blinked at the little girl. A little girl who ignored Batman’s order and demanded politeness.

“Batman doesn’t kill,” Nightwing stated as to remind everyone there, even Batman himself.

“Batman might start,” Red Robin retorted.

           Batman cast a look at Superman who only shrugged with a bewildered smile on his face. Because yes, that my niece, Superman thought, and I’m having Barbara send the video of this entire night to the league before I leave this rooftop.

           Batman narrowed his eyes, “Transform, please.”

           Marinette nodded stiffly and stepped back from the group. “Tikki,” She called. The red Kwami flew out of her purse and landed on shoulder.

“Hi,” Tikki giggled and waved a little hand at the vigilantes. “I’m Tikki, kwami of creation.”

           There were a few stunned hellos back.

“Ready?” Marinette asked her small friend. Tikki nodded. “Spots on.”

           A bright light encircled Marinette as she was transformed into ladybug. Well, new and improved Ladybug. One of the first things she learned after becoming the guardian was how to change her costume. Gone was the full body spandex suit.

           Ladybug now layered ladybug themed armor, covering a black suit. Her mask hid more of her face. She had armored lady bug wings her back that could be used as emergency shields. She still couldn’t fly. But one day, Marinette vowed, she’d figure it out.

“I’m Ladybug,” She introduced.

“Magical girl transformation,” Nightwing murmured in awe. “She has a magical girl transformation.”

           Red Robin nodded approvingly, “Ladybug, the hero of Paris. Your fight with second fight again Horrifcator was legendary. I watch the video like twenty times to learn that finishing move you used on it. Used it on Mammoth.”

“Her,” Ladybug corrected. “How’d it work for you?”

“I think you know how it worked for me,” Red Robin smirked.

“Spots off,” Ladybug said and detransformed.

           Robin’s eyebrow crinkled, “But Father said I’m too young to patrol on my own.” His expression turned furious. “Ladybug has been protecting a city by mostly by herself her years, Father.”

“Robin,” Batman started but was cut off.”

“She is proof that age has nothing on skill,” Robin huffed. “I demand to be allowed to patrol alone. And I will no longer tolerate Agent Pennywise’s childproof locks, in the car or the in house.”

“Or on the cookie jar,” Red Hood add with a point at Batman. “Viva La revolution.”

           Batman pinched his nose. “The Justice League was unaware that the protector of Paris was a child. I instructed Superman to bring her here I could assess the situation and confirmed the villain Hawkmoth to be in fact a magical terrorist.”

“The league oversight just proves their weakness,” Robin said. “Not my own.”

           Batman ignored him. “Cyborg,” He said. “We’re ready.”

           Then Marinette was beamed into space.

           She really had to talk to Uncle Clark about his choice in friends.

           Marinette found herself standing in front the entire Justice League as she found herself telling her story again. But this time Red Robin had been helpful enough to provide video proof of her fights.

           The heroes of the room looked suitable horrified and furious about what had been happening in Paris. Redhood was spitting nails ever since Marinette revealed most of the monster had been possessed kids from her school.

“You don’t have powers,” Green Lantern stated. Ladybug opened to correct him but he kept going. “You get a boost of strength, speed, and endurance but nothing close to super level. From what I understand, transforming into Ladybug just improves your natural abilities.”

“It’s true,” Tikki squeaked. “You’re faster than the average human, but it only goes so far.”

“You don’t even have super healing,” The Flash said. “You fight some megalomaniac that’s more or less holding an entire city hostage, and you don’t even have powers.”

“You fight with a yo-yo,” Batman growled and, then, more than ever before, he looked ready to kill. “You, a child, with no real background in combat training was sent to fight near invincible monsters with a skintight suit and a yo-yo. All while a magical villain hunts you down.”

“Dying’s a strong possibility,” The Green Arrow frowned. “You said it yourself. The former Chat Noir used to die all the time, and if wasn’t for your miraculous, he’d still be dead.”

“He was careless,” Black Canary nodded. “Master Fu was right to strip him of his powers. He was reckless, let his emotions get the best of him, and didn’t take his job seriously, and always rushed into battle. He had no training and his inexperience got the best of him. I always thought he acted like a child. Now that I know he was, in fact, a child it explains much. I thought you were older,” She told Marinette.

“We all did,” Cyborg said. “We wouldn’t let a kid fight on their own.”

           Wonder Woman slammed her hands on the table, causing loud crack to be heard. “This will not stand anymore,” She shouted. Princess Diana radiated power. “The fiend HawkMoth has no issue with the slaughter of children or using them to fight his battles. I will slay the coward myself.”

           As much as Marinette really wanted to see Wonder Woman bash Hawkmoth’s face in, she knew she had to say something. “It’s too risky. Emotions run high battle. While I’m wearing the miraculous, I can’t be Akumatized. Everyone else can. Hawkmoth can get inside your head, turn you into one of his greatest monsters, and find out your secret identities. He is coward, but he is a powerful one.”

           Her words caused an uneasiness to spread through the room.

“We can’t let you fight alone,” Superman said. “I won’t let you fight alone.”

“No one is fighting anyone yet,” Batman rumbled. “We need more intel on Hawkmoth. We’ll contact Zatana to see what she knows about the situation. With any luck, she’ll know of any protection against Hawkmoth. In the meantime, I will act as Marinette’s mentor and see to her training.”

“But she’s sunshine!” Flash complained. “And happiness. And you’re you.”

           Other Justice league members spoke up and complained about the idea.

“Why do you get to be her mentor?” Superman asked sullenly. “I’m her Uncle.”

           Batman raised a hand to silence the room. “I am one of the few non superpowered heroes in the room. Superman is frequently in Gotham,” He gave Superman a look. “And can assist in Ladybug’s training. It is only logical.”

“Logical my left ass cheek,” Redhood snorted.

“I knew he would adopt her,” Damian rolled his eyes.

“Kid never stood a chance,” Nightwing said.

“He hasn’t told Alfred yet!” Red Robin said with a shake of his head. “How many surprise children is he going to bring that man?”

           Officially, or at least as her parents knew, Marinette would be staying with her Uncle Clark and his husband in Gotham while the Kents fixed up their farm a terrible storm ruined. Unofficially, Marinette was the new ward of Bruce Wayne.

           As soon as the Superman, batman, Marinette and the rest of the batfamily left.

           Cyborg ordered everyone to remain in their seats. “You. Have. To. See. This!” He turned on the video Oracle had sent him.

           The sight of adorable sweet school girl Marinette hitting Batman in the face and kicking him off the roof, once again caused the entire room to go silent as everyone processed the event.

           Green Arrow was the first to break, “Roy’s going to marry that girl so hard.”

“How is she alive,” Barry Allen asked, his mask down and his red hair shining under the light of the room.

“Batman has a soft spot for children,” Aquaman shrugged.

“Play it again,” Wonder Woman commanded. “Please,” She added with an amused smile.

           The Justice League rewatched the video eight more times that night, and nearly everyone demanded it be emailed to them. As far as The Flash was concerned Marinette was his new hero. As far as Oliver Queen was concerned Roy Harper and Marinette would make beautiful children.

           Living in Wayne Manor was vastly different than living on the farm with the Kents. For starters, Damian frequently jumped out of random place and attacked her with a sword.

           Tim and Jason assured her this was normal. And she’d get used to it. Marinette noted there was no mention of when it would stop. She stopped minding once she realized Damian was using it to better himself so Marinette used the instances to bond with him under the mask of improving his skills. She learned quickly as long as she didn’t treat him like a little kid, he wouldn’t view her as his enemy. Plus he adored Plagg, and the other kwami who basked under his attention. Plagg and Damian were a formidable, destructive, team.

           She got an entire room to work on her designs which did as much as possible. Whenever, she wasn’t training or at school.

           Marinette went to Gotham academy with Tim and Damian.  But she didn’t seem them too much as Tim was in an older grade and Damian a younger one. Damian took to joining her for lunch as he found his classmates to be unworthy of his attention

           Dick Grayson was everywhere. He seemed to have made it his personal mission to bond with the newest member of the Batfamily. Dick went shopping with her, insisted on Disney family movie nights, and started teaching Marinette Gymnastics for superheroes 101. And, boy, could he talk.

           Jason taught her out to drive. Or rather how to drive like the police were after you. Neither of her Uncles were amused. Tim taught her how to use his motorcycle. Again, parental authority not amused. But Marinette learned one thing, she liked to go fast.

The lack of a proper sleep schedule and the possibility of overdosing on coffee was quite seemed to effect the older vigilantes. Unfortunately for them, Marinette had a low tolerance for self-harm and had no problem teaming up with Alfred to take care of her new found family.

           Alfred hadn’t been surprised when she arrived at the Manor. He just sighed and welcome her into the family. The butler had easily taken up the role as grandfather to the batkids and had no problems doing the same for Marinette. Together, they replaced most of the coffee in the house with decaf, worked out a proper patrol schedule for the batfamily, and managed to convince Tim to get more than two hours a sleep a night.

           The two got along really well. Like with Aunt Martha, Marinette traded recipes with the kindly man and competed over who had the best desserts.

           The only issue between the two was the kitchen. Marinette liked to cook too. Alfred like to defend his territory, and insisted frequently on Marinette coming to him for meals. Marinette disagreed as she felt Alfred should relax more. She said this in front of Uncle Bruce which caused the man to smile for the rest of the day for some reason.

           Marinette had met Cassandra her second week in Gotham. The quiet girl and Marinette easily communicated through body language as Cassandra didn’t talk much. Marinette learned to be watchful of the older girl. And with much carefulness, convinced Cassandra to play video games and binge out on sweets together. They ended up painting each other’s, and Dick’s, nails. Cassandra was more than happy to spend time with her “Little sister.”

           Luke was the only sane one in the family. Barbara and Stephanie were the insane older sisters Marinette had always wanted. Barbara taught Marinette about hacking. Stephanie taught her how to break in to places, without getting caught.  Kate, Bruce’s cousin, took to smirking at her whenever Bruce and Marinette were in the room together. (Every superhero had seen the video by then.)  The five of them (Cassandra included), had frequently girls’ nights. That Dick was in no way invited to. (To which he complained to Bruce about.)

           Living with Uncle Clark and Uncle Bruce, the batdad himself, was amazing. For two of the most powerful superheroes in the world, they were pair of love birds. Uncle Clark took her frequently to Metropolis and to see the Daily Planet. She got introduced to the legendary Lois Lane and the fearsome Cat Grant.  Cat Grant was amused that Marinette didn’t become some wilting daisy at her vitriol. Marinette designed her a dress.

           Uncle Bruce was fierce with his training and his research into Hawkmoth, uncovering information the Kwami and the guardians that Master Fu had thought lost in time, thanks mostly to Zatana and Doctor Fate. However, as scary as Batman was to all of Gotham that was how much of a good dad Bruce was.

           He frequently checked in what all his kids were doing and tried his best to participate. Turns out Batman’s weakness is sewing needles.

           News from Paris always made Marinette feel kind of “Whatever”. She was still being pestered by calls her from ex-classmates. The calls tripled when Marinette showed up at a red carpet, high society event with the Wayne family, on Bruce Wayne’s arm, in a killer pink baby-doll poofy dress she designed herself. Uncle Bruce had used the event to introduce Gotham to his niece, his husband Clark’s niece, Marinette.

           Alya demanded the deets on living with the Waynes, on meeting Lois Lane, of living with Ace reporter Clark Kent. She also accused Marinette of lying to them for years. There were still texts demanding Marinette come home. When she wasn’t doing that, Alya frequently send Marinette video message about what a liar Lila was, and how it wasn’t fair the Ladyblog was getting sued for defamation of character. How could Alya know Lila was lying?

           Adrien had started texting her again, though Marinette expect his father was behind this as a way to get an in with Bruce Wayne, as the boy seemed to have been waiting for Marinette to extend her usual olive branch. He didn’t apologize. He asked about the Gotham and when she was coming back to school. Marinette ignored him.

           The only ones who seemed to have gotten the message and appeared to be genuinely sorry were Nino, Kim, Juleka, and Alix. They gave heartfelt apologies and backed off. Her old friends made it clear that they really were sorry for not believing Marinette, not trusting her, but they wouldn’t push her into forgiving them. They knew they were wrong.

           It was because of that Marinette knew that, in one day, she would forgive them. Her heart might not ever heal from the way it’s shattered over the actions that took place in Paris. But Marinette had learned to live with it.

           And that was the first step.

[guardianspirits13]

Hi, I saw your art for the AU where Touya weakness is a medical conditon and I wanted to know if there is a story based on it or a one shot ?

PS: I love your art, is amazing

Hi!! Sorry that I’m so late to respond, I never check my inbox so I was surprised to find so many kind messages there!!!!

The concept for Touya with a quirk-based medical condition is my own idea, so while there is no fanfiction it was based off of, I do have a work in progress for the story! It’s nowhere near finished but here’s an excerpt just for you 😘

(read under cut)

(Important side note- in this au, Endeavor and Rei are good parents who do everything possible to help Touya’s condition. They do inadvertently give less attention to the other kids, but it’s in no way malicious since he has different and more urgent needs)

Touya had always been a small kid.

It was his small stature perhaps, that gave him that spark in his eye. That determined gaze, setting his jaw and taking the world on every step of the way. If he had to fight to be heard, to be seen, then so be it. He refused to be forgotten, lost to a cloud of strangers who were taller, stronger, better.

Natsuo knew this more than anyone.

He had always admired his big brother, always looked at him through the eager eyes of a child. Touya radiated warmth- he was gentle and kind and smiled in the face of pain, if only to comfort his younger siblings- and Natsuo loved him more than anything else in the world.

Touya had always been different. He was always a little unbalanced, always heasitant to rush into things. Always looking out for himself, everywhere he went, lest he take one wrong step and land right back in the emergency room.

For as long as Natsuo could remember, Touya had been sick, but he never let that stop him.

-

He recieved the diagnosis two weeks before his sixth birthday.

It was a cloudy winter day, wind whistling around the walls of the Todoroki estate and cold air seeping through the cracks of thin wooden doors.

This couldn’t have mattered less to six-year-old Touya, however, as he played with his father in the training room. Well, not exactly playing. His dad referred to it as training, but Touya loved it anyways. Hurling brilliant bursts of fire at his father and dodging blasts in return was thrilling. He loved the crackling whoosh of the flames, and their dancing warmth on his skin. He loved running around, laughing, spending time with his dad.

Nothing, it seemed, could ruin this moment of joy as he barely managed to dodge a fireball and it tickled his ear. He emitted a small giggle as he rolled onto the floor. He looked back up at his opponent, towering above his tiny form, and grinned mischeviously. He feigned taking a moment to catch his breath, using it to focus all his power into his hands and create one small, brilliant ball of  sparkling blue flame. As Touya stepped up off the floor, the flame flickered violently, roaring like a caged lion- yearning to be set free. He posed properly, as he had been taught, and reeled his arms to his side.

With a shout of victory he thrust his arms forward, and a wall of flame engulfed the room. It was blinding. The bright light engulfed everything, the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Everything was white, and suddenly Touya felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. His body went limp, and the last thing he saw as the white faded to black were his father’s eyes, contorted with worry.

-

He woke up in the hospital. He only recognized the scene from movies, white-washed walls, a large window obscured by sheer curtains and a steady beep…beep…beeping sound coming from somewhere behind him. He lay in a small bed, just as white as the rest of the room. A tube stuck out of his hand that hurt a bit whenever he wiggled his fingers, and it seemed to have some sort of liquid running through it. On his other hand was some sort of weird clip, and right below his nose was another tube that itched his nostrils. He looked around the room again, hoping someone was there that he could talk to. Nope. He did his best to sit up without moving any of the wires, and just as he crossed his legs the door peeked open.

“Touya!” His mom stepped in the room, and nearly ran to pull him into a gentle hug, her cold hands making his skin prickle.

“Hi, sweetie…how do you feel?”

“…I’m hungry.”

“That’s okay, the nurse should be in soon with a meal.”

“What time is it?”

“It’s past your bedtime.” His mom laughed softly. “It’s almost eleven o’ clock.”

Touya looked up at her with wide eyes. He had never stayed up this late before. It felt like he was a grown-up or something. He glanced at the tube in his hand. Maybe he didn’t want to be a grown up. It seemed scary.

“Am I going to die?”

His mom looked at him, eyes bright and wide.

“Oh, no, sweetheart, you aren’t going to die.”

She reached over and took his hand. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Then why am I here? Isn’t this where people die? What is this for?” He fired off all his questions at once, embellishing the final one with a tug on the tube that sat awkwardly on his face. His mom gently guided his hand away from it.

“You passed out when you were training with your father. We brought you here just to be safe. The doctors have to run a couple tests, but you’ll probably be allowed to leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Where’s dad and Fuyumi and everyone?”

“Your father had to go home to tuck them in. We switched places to look after Natsuo, because babies can get cranky in hospitals.” She brushed the hair out of his face, fingers heasitating for a second as they raked through the fresh streak of white in his dark red hair.

Touya closed his eyes as his mother leaned in and softly pressed her lips to his forehead. The motion was calming, and he relaxed as another bout of exhaustion called to him, lulling him to sleep once again.

-

A week later, the only evidence Touya had of having been in the hospital was an All-Might band-aid on his right hand, where the weird tube had poked his skin. He stared out the window of the moving car, counting mailboxes and trees as they flew past. His mom and dad said they needed to talk to the doctor again, because Touya had a test. He didn’t remember taking a test, but he hoped he didn’t fail it, anyways. His little siblings got to stay at home with a babysitter to watch a movie. He was jealous of them.

Once they got to the doctors office, a nurse led them through identical hallways until they got to a small room. Inside was a countertop, and a big chair, and some normal chairs. Touya got to sit in the big chair. His feet were so high off the ground! His mom sat in a small chair next to him, and his father stood. The nurse left them there alone for a few minutes.

Touya swung his feet lazily as he waited for something to happen. He watched the clock. He hummed a song.

Eventually the door opened, and a short, round man with similarly round glasses stepped in. He shook hands with Touya’s dad, then his mom, then Touya. He said he was the doctor and they were going to figure out what was wrong with him. Touya didn’t know there was anything wrong with him. He looked to his mom for reassurance, and she smiled and took his hand.

The doctor settled down in the second chair. He reached into a pocket on his white coat and pulled out an envelope. He said a few words before slitting it open, and retrieving a single piece of paper. He said some big words that Touya didn’t umderstand. He talked for a few minutes, but Touya was bored so he ignored him. He looked around the room- the bright lights on the ceiling; his father taking up the whole corner; his worn sneakers with stomp-lights that didn’t work anymore. His mom squeezed his hand, and he turned to look at her.

Was mommy…crying?

She reached up with her free hand to wipe her face and smiled at him again, but this time her smile was different. It was a sad smile, like the ones she used whenever Touya scraped his knee or ran to her crying after he fell off his bike. Touya stared back at her. He didn’t know how to feel. He didn’t understand what was going on. His mom turned again and asked the doctor a question. He answered patiently. Then another one. He answered that one too. And on it went, until the doctor finally stood up, shook his parents’ hands once more, and left without a word.

The room was silent for a moment, then Touya’s dad reached down and picked him up off his chair, holding him to his chest with one arm. With the other, he grasped his mom’s shoulder. She had her face covered with her hands, but in a few seconds she sniffled softly and took the hand on her shoulder, allowing herself to trail behind them as they headed back out to the car.

-

“I’m afraid your son has a rare quirk disease.” The doctor looked up from the creased paper containing the damning lab results.

Rei’s heart dropped. She turned to look at her husband. He was stoic, standing frozen in the corner, face shadowed by the ceiling light. She let her eyes rest on her child, seated closer to her, fidgeting with the zipper on his sweatshirt. Touya, her eldest child. Her baby. She took a deep breath and turned back to the doctor, who continued.

“It is known as Degenerative Quirk Disease.” He paused. “The cause of the disease is unknown, but the essence of it is that the quirk preys on the life force of the user. The more he uses his quirk the faster his body will deteriorate, and unfortunately once the damage is done there is no known way to reverse it. As per the name of the disease, it is degenerative and will get worse over time. Unfortunately this does mean that your son will have a shorter lifespan. All known cases have eventually proven to be fatal.”

The room was silent for a moment. Rei’s vision blurred with tears. She squeezed Touya’s hand and he looked down at her, wide-eyed and innocent.

“Mommy?”

Rei smiled softly at him as tears broke her waterline. She haistily swiped them away. She couldn’t bring herself to reassure him. What a terrible mother she was.

She turned away, looking back at the doctor.

“Is there anything we can do?”

He nodded slowly.

“While there is no known cure, there is treatment available. In fact, just recently a villain-strength quirk suppresant was approved for medical use. The only way to slow the disease is to prevent the usage of his quirk as much as possible. This is the best option available, as even among those who thoroughly abstain from using their quirks, there are still accidents and passive attributes to most quirks that would expedite the disease, such as fire-resistance.” He nodded at the man in the corner. His face, normally highlighted with dancing flames, was dark and unreadable.

Rei prompted him further, eager to learn how to save her child.

“What does treatment entail?”

“The most promising option available is a weekly IV treatment supplemented with oral medication.  Both help to suppress quirk usage as much as possible to delay progression of the disease. With regular use his lifespan could be expanded by up to five years, compared to manually abstaining. Now I know this doesn’t sound like the most effective treatment, but given the life expectancy without treatment, five more years of life is the best gift you could give him right now.”

-

That’s all I have for now! If I ever decide to finish it I’ll upload it to my Ao3, and if you like my writing you can find more of it there as well :)

Again, thank you so much for the support! I’m so glad you like my art so I’ll be sure to keep on creating!

[saedii-gilwraeth-simp]

Family - TDC Post-Canon series 1

Ok so this originally was a post canon one-shot but then I really liked the idea so I’m going to do more of these focussing on Arsinoe from TDC to old age likely and all of the things that entails. 

Also, I couldn’t let go of the idea that Billy has more siblings, so I made them! Enjoy!

And then he leans close and kisses her tenderly, as the rooster clucks happily between them (fdf).

Arsinoe feels warmth flood through her, from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes as Billy’s gentle but firm hands hold her close at the waist. She missed him, missed him like he was a part of her that she lost. In a way, she guesses, he is. Finally they hear a throat clear behind them and she wants to scowl at Jules. She pulls away to glare at her friend only to realise it was actually a passing lady in a ghastly dress who obviously didn’t approve of her and the man she loves kissing on the street. She sticks her tongue out and the woman looks even more scandalised. Billy chuckles and buries his smiling face in the hair sitting against her collar, his hand fisting in her vest.

“We should probably go inside before those pants give someone a heart attack,” Billy says and takes her hand, leading her up the path. Right before they get to the door, he pauses and finally seems to remember that she still has a chicken in her vest. He gestures with his hand and she passes him the chicken. He darts around the side of the house and after a minute, he’s back empty-handed. She tilts her head slightly and he shrugs.

“There may be a semi-chicken coop in the backyard,” Arsinoe smiles and ignores the way Jules mouths ‘semi?’ to no one in particular as they finally make it in the door, where the sounds of ladies conversation drifts from the main room. But Arsinoe doesn’t tense up like she used to. She’d been to war now, which means the thought of society ladies was only slightly less daunting. Only by a little bit. Billy looks horrified though and pauses just inside the door.

“I just remembered that my mother has been ambushing me with ladies with the hopes of marrying me off,” he pressed a kiss to her hair. “Thank God you’re here again to save me,” Arsinoe squeezed his hand before holding an arm out, gesturing for him to lead them into the room. 

Ruth Chatworth looks exactly like Arsinoe remembered, obviously not a fan of change, but Arsinoe had to admit she now understood why the woman never wore black. It definitely did not suit her pale complexion. However, her calm smile and light shoulders gave away no mourning, like she actually only wore black and closed the windows for show. Arsinoe likes her a hell of a lot more for it.

Christine Hollen sits on the loveseat facing away from the doorway but turns when Ruth sees Arsinoe and stops speaking mid sentence. Christine seems just as surprised as Ruth does.

“Hello Arsinoe,” Ruth says, standing and approaching her, obviously appraising her pants, vest and longer hair. She then seems to spot Jules behind Arsinoe and seems affronted at the clothes and the cougar at her side. “Who is your friend and why is there a large animal in my house?” Arsinoe almost wants to laugh.

“Hi Ruth. This is my best friend and the Queen Crowned of Fennbirn, Jules Milone. The big cat is Camden, her familiar,” Ruth pursed her lips at Camden but seemed unwilling to enter into a debate about it. Arsinoe sidled past her and sat down next to Christine with a smile. The Governor’s daughter looked lovely (as usual) in a sky blue dress, her blonde curls tied back in an elegant chignon. “How are you, Christine?” She looks affronted but quickly catches herself.

“I’m well, Arsinoe. Are you going to be sticking around this time?” She says, sipping her tea demurely. Arsinoe smiles gently and leans over to make her own tea. 

“I will actually Christine. My business on Fennbirn is over and I have no interest to go back,” she said, picking up a sugar cube. Christine hummed.

“And your sister?” Arsinoe’s hand froze halfway to her cup before pursing her lips and considering. She didn’t have to be a member of polite society to know that telling Christine how Mirabella died was too heavy for afternoon tea. It was too heavy for any time of day really, but sunny afternoon tea especially.

“She died in the war,” Arsinoe settled on, finally dropping the sugar cube into her teacup. Christine went quiet for a beat.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Arsinoe. I know you and her loved each other immensely” the socialite says gently and Arsinoe nods in recognition, taking a sip of her tea.

“Thank you, Christine,” the conversation was interrupted by Billy, Jules, Jane and Ruth coming to sit with them. Billy sat right next to her and put a hand on her knee, a movement not missed by Christine, but she didn’t comment

“So, Arsinoe, what business bought you back to New Estra?” Ruth said and Arsinoe knew exactly what she meant by that. 

Arsinoe sipped her tea and sighed. 

“Well, Ruth…”

~ 6 Months ~

Arsinoe didn’t have a whole lot of experience with children. She liked children and was pretty sure that they didn’t outright hate her back, but she had never really spent extended periods of time around them, Finn excluded. Which is why she was viscerally surprised to wake up to one crawling over her.

“Uncle Billy, don’t you know girls have cooties?” The child said and Arsinoe turned, slightly offended and ready to assert, rather childishly she must admit, that she did not, in fact, have “cooties.” The red-headed child (that she only recognised from photos on the mantle in Ruth’s drawing room) wasn’t paying attention to her though, instead waiting for an answer from Billy, who was groaning.

“John, she doesn’t have cooties. What are doing in here?” Billy says, sitting up so that he was at eye-level with the child.

“Mumma told me to come get you up. She wants to meet Ar-“ he seems to stumble over her name and instead points to her.

“Arsinoe,” Billy and Arsinoe say at the same time and John nods before climbing over Arsinoe, his knee going straight in her gut, and jumping down. 

“Sorry,” John says.

“All good, kid,” she says, waving him off and he runs back out again. Arsinoe turns to Billy, confused. “Who exactly was that?” Billy kisses her cheek to say good morning before leaning his forehead against her shoulder.

“My nephew,” he says and she raises an eyebrow, “my oldest sister’s kid. She lives in Bevellet and John wasn’t a great traveller when he was younger so I don’t get to see her very often. But if Viv’s here then so is Henri and her husband so be prepared,” Arsinoe clicks her tongue in acknowledgement and rolls out of bed. From her side of the wardrobe she pulls a pretty forest green jumpsuit (something she had designed and sewed herself, much to Ruth’s shock and vague horror) and the ribbon that went with it to go in her hair before going into the ensuite to change.

When she comes out, Billy is buttoning his shirt up and Arsinoe grabs a necktie. She wraps it around his collar and uses it to pull him in for a quick kiss. 

“Compared to your mother, how scared should I be of your sisters?” Billy smiles.

“You’ll be fine,” he says, taking the tie from her hands and tying it before offering his hand and leading her out the door.

The kitchen was loud when they got downstairs and the sound only escalates when the people in the room notice the pair. Billy lets go of his hand to go hug two women who she gathers must be his older sisters and two men approach her, smiling.

“And you must be the newest addition to the family,” one of them says. He’s just taller than her (though that was saying a lot) and broad in the shoulders, with red hair and a truly impressive moustache. He’d be intimidating if he didn’t have such clear laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. “I’m John Moore Sr, Viv’s husband, and this is Edward Allen, Henrietta’s husband,” Edward was shorter than both of the two and lanky, with clear blue eyes and brown-gold hair. He seemed quieter than his brother-in-law but his presence wasn’t uncomfortable by any means. She stuck out her hand to them and shook with a smile.

“Arsinoe Queen, it’s a pleasure to meet you gentleman. I believe I met your son already John. He’s lovely, even if he may have bruised my ribs,” she says with a smile and John tilts his head.

“I’ll make sure he apologises for that, miss Queen, we wouldn’t want to scare off the only woman willing to keep Chatworth, after all,” Arsinoe’s eyebrows raised in surprise before she chuckled.

“Eh, he’s not so bad,” she says, making John laugh and turn to the rest of the group. 

“Chatworth, look after this one, she’s a gem,” he calls and Billy smiles and winks at Arsinoe before both have their attentions drawn by a kind feminine voice sitting at the table.

“Well, don’t keep her sequestered, let us meet her,” John nodded and gestured for Arsinoe to move past the two men, where she finally got a glimpse at the two people she hadn’t yet met. Both were women in their twenties who shared Billy’s warm features and she smiled at them, sitting on the chair Jane had vacated.

“Hi Arsinoe,” one of them said, taking her hand to shake. “I’m Henrietta, but most people just call me Henri or Hen,” she smiled with a grin she recognised on Billy’s face and she can’t help but smile back, matching her energy. 

“Hen, don’t try anything until she’s met all of us,” the woman sitting next to them says and Arsinoe turns to meet her. She leans forward to shake but is hindered but a very pregnant stomach. Arsinoe leans forward to meet her in the middle. “ I’m Viviana, Viv if you will. I think you met my son in the last half hour. Ignore any schemes himself or my sister try to drag you into,” Arsinoe laughs slightly.

“I only involve myself in schemes when I can’t be caught, don’t worry,” she hears Billy snort from behind her, “Billy may attest differently but ignore that,” Viviana smiles and pats her hands, letting them go in favour of continuing to eat her breakfast.

~ 3 years ~

“Welcome to this month’s meeting of The Chatworth Spouse Club,” John says, smiling as they clink their beer glasses together. Edward smiles.

“This month we finally can officially add a new member to the Club,” he says, turning to Arsinoe, who was tapping her new wedding band on her glass. “Welcome Arisnoe, to the best kept secret in the family,” he said, loud pride in his usually subdued voice.

“Thanks gents. Is this Club only for official spouses or will we be inviting Penworth into the fold soon,” she smiled with joy as they scoffed in unison.

“He wouldn’t be invited even if Jane was unfortunate enough to marry that wet sock,” John said, making his companions cough but not disagree. “Let’s just admit now that Penworth would spoil our nights away from spouses and children by being his usual self,” Arsinoe tilts her head in agreement. 

“I’m surprised how happy you are at the thought of being away from home, John,” Arsinoe says, sipping her drink.

“Oh no home is great,” Joh says with his usual wide smile, “It’s just with the new baby on the way and three already… well, here, it’s nice to talk to adults every now and then. Edward would agree, right, Ed?” John says and Edward nods.

“Yeah, Henri and the twins are handfuls all the time so breaks are important. But also I can’t wait to be home with them whenever I leave. Why didn’t either of you warn me how much you miss your kids when you’re away,” he sighs lovingly and Arsinoe raises her hands. 

“Don’t look at me, I don’t have children to speak on. Blame John,” Edward smiles at her before turning his smart eyes on John.

“When are you gonna get to doing that by the way, missy?” John deflects back to her and she shrugs with a smile.

“It’ll happen when it happens and besides, I’m never gonna complain that I don’t enjoy just Billy and me. Not that we haven’t had fun trying,” she admits with a small blush and John whistles with a laugh.

“Well, drink up folks so I can kick your asses at darts,” he says and Arsinoe drinks her beer, trying not to laugh. Neither of them had ever beaten Edward at darts. They probably never would if they were being honest with themselves, but she still had a blast trying.

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO SEE MORE OF THESE/SEE SOMETHING SPECIFIC/BE TAGGED TAG LIST: @poisonerrose @alwaysbored005