#wanted kids as if they would just spawn magically from some women somewhere for them makes me 🔫

[femmesandhoney]

men will be like i always wanted to be a dad when they really mean i always wanted to leech upon a woman and her family, none of these men would ever truly go and adopt/foster children by themselves and choose to be single fathers/foster parents because they apparently have deep parental instincts somewhere. somehow, it's only ever imagined with a wife and children your wife takes care of, funny how that works. they just want the status of being a "family man" when they say shit like that.

[thermodynamiclawyer]

yeah, this is gonna be a trainwreck. here’s @bandagegirl ‘s and my GHS headcanon masterpost. our goal was to have at least 3 per character, if not more. we kinda had to group the last few characters together in the end, though. it’ll be split up in categories between the characters in the Game, then Anime-Only, and then overall Worldbuilding at the end as for easier reading.

Game Characters

Gregory

the Lost World/Gregory House is Gregory’s own manifestation through loneliness and envy. (see Worldbuilding)

he’s WAY older than a grandfather of James. he’s more of a great-great-great-great grandfather, but it’s easier to just call him grandpa.

he’s been long dead in reality for years. always constantly dreaming and manifesting his Lost World and eventually never woke up.

there is almost 0 records of him from reality. because of this, there is no clear time period he originated in, unlike the guests.

he’s a collector. he loves historically significant antique items to put on a shelf and learn all about.

as taken from the manga, his favorite historical subject is War.

he suffered from frequent night terrors as a teenager, making it difficult to sleep before the manifestation of the Lost World.

while he usually tries to set up a weekly chore schedule for the residents in the hotel, he usually ends up doing everything himself (both because the guests throw in the towel very quickly and that Gregory wants to do everything right).

his magic abilities include teleportation and immortality, but he’s still very prone to injury.

Gregory Mama

she’s actually a manifestation within the Lost World that Gregory used to cope/punish himself with.

has the tendency to adopt new guests as family members only to eat them/their souls later. this also applies to Gregory attempting to manifest new family members in the past, to which he stopped after Gregory Mama has shown to steal their souls each time.

obviously, she’s not Gregory’s real mother, rather a personification of the abuse Gregory suffered in reality.

as young children usually don’t use their parents real name often, she doesn’t have a real name.

James

he’s a child who escaped reality after discovering a forgotten family member (Gregory) in very old family photos; having little to no relation to the rest of the family.

plus, hearing rumors of a hotel that only appeared during moonless nights only encourage him to take on a challenge.

since he’s related to Gregory (even if it’s very distant), his monster transformation was a lot faster, becoming a full rat in little under a month.

he LOVES horror movies, especially slasher films. he might be a little too influenced by them.

he owns a large range of weapons, from toy water guns to actual chainsaws. that doesn’t mean he’ll use them responsibly, though.

he’s a very smart kid, even to the point where he can be manipulative to both the kids and the adults. he’ll even convince other kids to take the blame for him whenever he starts problems.

his parents from reality miss him very much.

Catherine

in reality, Catherine was a German nurse in the 1940’s during WW2.

as a human, she was actually afraid of the sight of blood and would get lightheaded whenever she had to treat a soldier’s wounds. however, as a determined nurse, she tried her hardest to become tolerant of blood. tolerance became fondness and fondness became obsession to the point where she was hurting her patients just to see blood again.

she is attracted to both men and women, however she experiences internalized biphobia. due to this, she’s desperate to find true love with a man while specifically trying to avoid romantic relationships with women.

she knows how to take care of children.

she molts her skin during periods of time, you know, since she’s a lizard.

she didn’t gain magic powers along with her transformation, but instead gained physical strength.

Cactus Gunman and Cactus Girl

both originated in the Mexican revolution, especially around 1910.

Gunman had been shot in the chest a few times in his life and surprisingly survived each of them.

Gunman’s personality completely changed once he arrived in Gregory House with his sister, becoming a paranoid coward from the brave “hero” he made himself out to be.

they both grow seasonal flowers in the springtime. Gunman grows one large red flower on his head, which he hides with his hat in the spring time. he prefers to only show to his potential lover. Cactus Girl grows smaller white flowers in her hair.

Gunman is in dire need of glasses.

Gunman is quite fond of gardening, and loves to talk about flora. sometimes, Lost Doll will accompany him in the courtyard while he weeds.

they would die for each other, so don’t cross them.

Cactus Girl can shoot better than Gunman, but prefers her lasso and other melee weapons. she’s sworn off using guns after the revolution.

Cactus Girl has the ability to spawn in zones in smaller closed areas, such as turning her hotel room into Cactus Land; sort of like a pocket dimension. it’ll disappear as soon as she leaves the room.

sometimes, they both don’t need to eat due to the occasional Photosynthesis, and can go a long time without water.

Hell’s Chef

he worked as a highly regarded chef in Russia at a fancy restaurant, with mixed European family origins.

him and Mirror Man were coworkers of some sort.

he came from a long line of wrestlers, but broke family tradition to cook as a passion and career.

he died after the restaurant went up in flames.

his throat is still scratchy and rough from the incident, so he isn’t much of a talker. not to mention the language barrier and that he’s still attempting to learn the language everyone else speaks in Gregory House.

while the appearance of his meals look absolutely irredeemable, Chef’s cooking is actually very tasty; so much that you almost can’t taste the poison. he prefers making meals that are hearty and savory, rather than “looking good”.

he prefers to do all the food shopping and butchering. nobody knows the best ingredient selections like he does.

like Catherine, all of this “magic ability” went to his incredible strength.

most, if not all of his body is made out of wax, with vein like wick all throughout the body, giving him general bodily structure.

Neko Zombie

(see Worldbuilding)

Clock Master and My Son

My Son was a stillborn in reality; the death of him and his mother gave Clock Master an alcohol addiction and depression.

1960 is the year My Son and CM's wife died, making it when time stopped for CM. he’s sort of “stuck” in 1960 in a way, which is why the year is plastered on both of their foreheads.

My Son was technically "born" in Gregory House.

when Clock Master came to Gregory House, an infant My Son was already waiting in his room. Because the child died before getting a name, CM referred to him as My Son.

while CM's time abilities are getting worse with age, they never were great to begin with due to the Lost World's unusual flow of time.

My Son's time abilities on the other hand have the potential to be the most powerful ability out of everyone's when he gets older, being able to play multiple timelines at the same time and even rewriting reality. this is due to being born in the Lost World, so his ability has adapted to Gregory House’s “time” system.

Judgement Boy + Gold

instead of a singular character, Judgement Boys are classified as a “species” considering there are multiple of them, with more being produced in the Judgement Factory daily. there is not a singular JB.

the Judgement Factory in Gregory House is a sub-factory of a much bigger Core Factory, where it branches off into different zones and other manifestations. There are countless Judgement Factories in existence, all with numerous JBs being produced and trained.

Judgement Boy Gold is an individual one-of-a-kind model, however, there are more in the “Metal” series similar to him in different factories with a variety of training jobs.

JBs came into existence after a lawyer in the early 2000’s won a court case that suppressed the rights and safety of these assembly line workers in a Toy Factory, which caused hundreds of workers to be injured or even killed. realizing the consequences of his actions, he spiraled downwards into insanity and ended up in Gregory House, rarely leaving his hotel room and eventually manifesting the Factory.

most models or designs of a Judgement Boy are based off of toys; one of the very few things reflected from the lawyer’s fatal court case.

the standard JB’s appearance is a bastardized caricature of the original lawyer, only with added cages and robotic features. the lawyer began transforming into a red monster with sharp teeth and claws, but never saw the results as he disappeared into the Core Factory one day, never to be seen again.

see @ask-factory and the #extended factory tag for a more extensive story.

Mummy Family

Mummy Papa, Mummy Dog, and Mummy Mama originated somewhere in the 1980’s.

the reason they’re in Gregory House is an overlap of death and the fact that Mummy Papa was unintentionally poisoning the 3, leading to ending up in the hotel as a “punishment”.

they’re Bloodhounds.

Mummy Papa loves to collect weapons and owns a saber collection, especially older historically significant ones.

Mummy Dog enjoys morbid facts and likes to tell the other children about death.

Mummy Papa has Münchausen Syndrome by Proxy, which is triggered when the sword shifts in his head. because of this, he keeps himself and the rest of his family sicker with unclear motives, perhaps to have the ability brag about their ailments. (more details here)

Mummy Mama suffers from more immune-system based illnesses and anemia while the other two deal with physical and phantom pain, which they all pass off as colds.

the plant in Mummy Mama’s head is a parasite, and needs to be fed directly to continue living if Mummy Mama gets too weak. (the plant prefers blood)

TV-Fish

one of the few characters classified as a species.

TV Fish have a wide variety of fish or other sea creatures they can be. the TV Fish in Gregory House are much smaller.

some TV Fish don’t even have to be TVs. some can be other electronic appliances just as long as they’re combined with a fish skeleton.

they can be found across other Zones and places besides the Lost World, some with localized and native species differing from what we already seen.

TV Fish are an invasive species in the Lost World.

they’re attracted to people with better memory. a person more intact and in touch with their memories could attract an entire school of TV Fish!

Roulette Boy

practically a God, Roulette Boy has reality bending powers.

however, since he follows his own rules strictly, he sets limits on himself as to only use them for his games, and won’t apply them to himself since he’s the Game Master.

nobody knows what the “rules” he follow are, but he restrains himself on what he can do while hosting a game. though, once you’re in his game, it’s almost a free-for-all and he can change you to be whatever pawn he sees fit until the game is over.

while RB prefers traditional board games, nothing’s stopping him from hosting RPGs or other turn-based video games (as seen in Lost Qualia.) he also loves gacha games and gambling.

when not hosting a game, he likes to roleplay.

Angel/Devil Dog

she is not a guest in Gregory House, neither a manifestation of the Lost World. she is a messenger from an entire separate outside world/reality, and she’s always been Angel Dog.

her, Death, and Gregory have been around equally the longest.

her and Gregory have a long history of rivalry. she’s always meddling in the Lost World and trying to let souls out a backdoor. whether she’s doing it to free them, or just to piss off Gregory, depends on her mood.

Angel Dog has a solid grasp on reality, however, her reality is different from the guests. it’s why her and Neko Zombie get along.

she doesn’t have a split personality disorder, as she chooses to become Devil Dog whenever she feels like it. her decision making is very emotion-based.

she’s a Dachshund!

Devil Dog likes soccer, and Angel Dog likes american football.

Lost Doll

ever since coming to the Lost World, she has either stopped aging altogether or she ages very slowly, as most object-based guests do.

she’s a wooden marionette with the ability to change her size.

in reality, she belonged to a very poor family who could only afford a few outdated wooden toys, which is why Katie was so special to her.

she’s good friends with James, even if she’s usually the one falling victim to his pranks. sometimes, when Katie takes over, it can be the other way around.

she has poor volume control and tends to shout when she’s excited or provoked.

she’s the youngest guest.

Death

Death, like Gregory Mama, is a manifestation of a part of Gregory's life.

he was created from Gregory’s favorite comfort movie, The Seventh Seal.

Death used to work in Gregory House as a doorman, welcoming the guests and wishing them goodbye, but fleed when Gregory Mama appeared and got rid of all other "manifestations".

his goal is to free Gregory's soul and end the Lost World, which is only possible if Gregory is the only person left.

Anime Characters

Dr.Fritz

Dr.Fritz is also German like Catherine, but came a little later in time.

back in reality, his body slowly stop responding, so he illegally tried to build himself a new body. that new body wasn’t fully ready yet when he decided to transplant his own brain when he was wheelchair bound and starting to lose arm control, so it was a very long process.

because of his condition, doctors either didn’t treat him correctly or flat out ignored his problems, so he has a strong mistrust to other doctors, which is why he wanted to operate on himself. the other doctors said there was nothing they could do, but he had other plans in mind.

he was there for the Berlin wall falling, and still has a piece of it as a keepsake.

he falls apart easily and has to re-sew body parts or snap his neck back into place. Catherine helps put him back together (in return, Fritz helps her shed.)

Catherine calls him Fritzchen on occasion.

he documents the species of the patients he treats out of curiosity and hopes to help them better. his treatments may be considered “unethical” but he knows for certain that if it’s to cure or treat the patient, he’ll go great lengths to break any rule in the medical field.

Mono Eye Wizard + Frog Fortune Teller

both are canonically married to each other, i just wanted to make sure everyone knew :]

Mono Eye Wizard wears a helmet, and he’s also an amphibian with one eye underneath his robe.

both are very interested and knowledgeable in the Magical and Paranormal side of the Lost World.

both held onto their souls for longer than most people, but lost them in the end.

Wizard is normally very powerful, he just SUCKS at summonings. (plus, he’s a little bit of an idiot)

on the other hand, Frog Fortune Teller isn’t very powerful, but she is very smart (and stubborn). she’s almost always right, especially if it’s a bad thing she predicted.

Wizard, and other characters such as Musha Dokuro and Egypetit all worship the same Dark Lord.

the little horned skeletons in Wizard’s cult are also classified as a species. sometimes, he allows in other interested members.

Wizard is fluent in latin.

Second Guest

the Second Guest, as shown at the end of the season two, has the silhouette of a rat. that’s her actual form; a shadow.

her “job” is to eavesdrop on other guests to go and report to Gregory Mama.

she’s very fast, quiet, hard to catch, and a big snitch.

the others call her “Hello Sister” as a title, while Gregory Mama calls her “My Lovely Daughter.”

her cigarette embers still glow on the wall, which is one of the only signals she’s in the room, especially in a poorly lit one.

usually only Gregory, James, and Mama can “hear” what she’s saying.

Chef strongly dislikes her and Lost Doll avoids her like the plague.

Prompters

a pair of indistinguishable twins, escaping reality after being rejected of their dream to become famous theater actors. both young adults.

they work multiple part time jobs, including helping out in the Judgement Factory in the hotel and Kabuki's theater, along with Poor Conductor’s performances.

they share drinks at the bar. their favorite drink is a raspberry/strawberry milkshake with two cherries. don’t forget to give them two straws!

they’re both learning how to cook with Hell’s Chef. so far, they can dice onions very well. :]

Public Phone

he’s in the Lost World as a punishment for being a greedy thief in reality.

he can create fake alibis, passports, various cards in addition to faking voices.

he’s drinking pals with Clock Master.

he takes any currency, just nothing fake. only HE can be the swindle here.

he’s a perverted little bitch.

Various Species

Haniwa Salarymen are classified as species, created from overworked businessmen in reality. The occurrence of them are very common, and season 1 happens to focus on one of them.

Black Ducks are a species, specializing in working kiosks, amusement parks, and other booths. Speed Mouse is never seen without a team of Black Ducks. Street Vendors sometimes accompany them.

Musha Dokuro are an invasive species to the Lost World.

Trap Mice are a (rare) artificial species built in the Lost World.

Dead Bodies are also classified as a species. they are the result of Death freeing an individual’s soul, leaving a husk/empty body behind.

species like these show up in reality to those who are close to their visit in the Lost World, appearing in the background or the corner of their eye, replacing real people.

individuals in all of those species are not visible/noticable until you interact and get close with them. they’re like NPCs.

Others

Wooden Lizard was Captain Wood’s favorite keychain that came to life.

Fat Chicken is an omnivore. He can and will eat anything.

(see here for Pig Gentleman and Mirror Man.)

Mirror Man can summon his own pocket dimension.

Kinko and Inko know more than they lead on, and Kinko is definitely much more powerful, but he can’t be bothered to do anything about it. he’s lazy.

Inko smokes cigars, but hates cigarettes.

Earth Man (from Lost Qualia) is non-verbal. he’s also very eco friendly!

Hell’s Taxi is a manifestation of a false sense of hope to escape the Lost World. it can also manifest in Reality to pick up new guests.

Egypetit’s head is made up of Gold, a strong conductor of magic in the Lost World.

Poor Conductor was powerful enough to manifest his own room into the Lost World, rather than checking into the Hotel himself.

Unbaba is semi non-verbal and cannot remove his mask. he’s definitely powerful enough to make guests lose their souls.

Bonsai Kabuki needs to water his head frequently or else he’ll be drained of energy, and be unable to open his third eye.

The Rainbow Dragon fossils, which Bonehead is after, are cursed, and uses his wife’s voice to compel him into seeking after them to claim yet another victim.

Toilet Baby may not be as powerful, but he can still summon dangerous attacks related to pocket dimensions.

Sleepy Sheep is used as a vessel in his sleep for those who are powerful enough to enter dreams.

Worldbuilding

Gregory House was a real place back in Reality, and it originally belonged to Neko Zombie and his loving family.

However, years and years of built up envy and hatred from Gregory, a person who didn’t receive the same love and luxuries as Neko Zombie, manifested the Lost World as a way for him to cope with the things he didn’t have in Reality, bringing the house down with him.

The remains of the house in Reality is now a mere rumor in the town, but its influence spreads across many zones to this day.

Neko Zombie is the final remaining member of the original owners of the house.

Him and Gregory are LONG forgotten for generations in Reality.

Zones are a loose term in the Lost World, which could mean alternate realities, different dimensions, etc. The Lost World is a zone with its own manifestations.

Another Zone could have its own origins and realities. Reality is not a zone, if that makes sense.

A Zone itself can manifest as a single individual or object being the Core that keeps the zone existing. (See The Core Judgement Factory that branches off Sub-Factories into different Zones.)

The Lost World is a very large Zone that reaches and branches off into other Zones, pulling in individuals.

Because of Zonal shenanigans, time moves a lot differently in the Lost World.

awful hospital does a better job handling zones better than this, actually. we took a little bit of inspiration from it. see here and here for a better grasp on what i’m trying to say.

[pl-panda]

Damienette aranged marriage: part 3

Whoa... Two parts in one day. Sorry if this one is worse, but yet again I wrote this instead of sleeping. 

Warning: there will be some cursing from Jason, but can you really blame him? Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from, @thyladyanput for idea for Chat Damian and me for the plot.

Part 1

Previous

Next

Damienette arranged marriage: Part 3

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“And why would you tell her everything?!” Jason screamed, still hidden behind Batman’s towering posture.

“Because she is my wife Todd!” Damian screamed. The silence in the room was thick enough that if the assassin swinged his sword, he would be able to cut it in half. Finally, Bruce was the one to break it.

“Fuck.”

This worked like detonating a bomb. Immediately, Red Hood, Red Robin and Nightwing pushed their way into the room and surrounded the two teens. 

“You were gone for less than forty-eight hours!” Dick

“How did you manage to get married!” Drake

“You are just fifteen demon spawn!” Todd

“And who is she!?” Drake again.

Talia watched this whole ordeal with no small amount of amusement. That is until Bruce suddenly appeared next to her. His frown was downright scary even for her. “Explain. Now!” The growl was low and emotionless, but it was enough to yet again put the room in dead silence.

“Beloved. It is good to see you too.” Talia smiled seductively.

“I am not in the mood. Now talk!”

“Fine.” She dropped all illusion of niceness. “I made peace with old enemy of the League. Or even a shaky alliance. But to seal the treaty, an assurance was required.”

“And that assurance was?” Jason asked confused, earning a facepalm from Dick.

“The Royal Marriage. An heir of the League and future leader of the Order.”

“And that leader would be… her?” Batman asked, not fully convinced.

Marinette was standing there the whole time, greatly uncomfortable with the attention Bat Family was giving her and Damian. She did read a bit on them, but it was always Alya who never shut up about heroes. For the most part, she preferred talk about Ladybug, but lately there was slowly forming a rift. The aspiring reporter was falling into Lila’s lies, posting unreliable videos on Ladyblog. Rossi had it for Ladybug and Alya, together with the rest of Marinette’s class, was falling for her machinations. They still hanged out with Marinette, but there was this distaste forming around her. She was no longer their to-go person with personal problems, being replaced by Lila who was awful at helping others unless it benefited her. But now Marinette had more pressing matter than a pity little liar. She looked at Batman, then at the bat-kids and finally at Damian. They were all looking at her expectantly.

“Oh right! Sorry. I did it again…” She gave them a sheepish smile. “I am Ladybug, hero of Paris and Great Guardian of the Miraculous.” She stated. Most of the heroes (bar Damian who knew a tidy bit about the Order of the Guardians) were confused.

“Paris doesn’t have heroes. There aren’t even any supervillains there.”

“Excuse me?! How does nobody knows what is going on in Paris!” Ladybug shouted. “Ugh! Seriously?!”

Batman narrowed his eyes. “Forgive me, Ladybug, but the Justice League would know if there was a threat in Paris. So who are you really.”

“Then ask Green Lantern. He was the one who laughed at my plea for help.” She scowled, but then her demeanor changed. She calmed down and gave a sheepish smile. “But guess I should thank him. I can only dread what would happen if Superman was akumatized. Or Flash. Or anyone really. I don’t think I could win.”

Batman frowned. He would have a talk with Hal once he dealt with this. If there was really a threat like that, ignoring it was not only stupid, but dangerous. And the girl was at best Damian’s age. She was dealing with this for how long? The way she spoke suggested that she was in charge. A child fighting in a war all alone. 

“For now beloved, it should be enough for you that the two of them are legally married.”

“Like hell!” Jason shouted at her, waving his gun. “They are fifteen. No court would accept this.”

“Actually,” Tim started, “under some laws they can be married. For example ‘The Personal Status Law of Muslims’ in Sudan sets the minimum age at ten.” He spoke like he was reading an encyclopedia.

“But we are somewhere between Nepal and China. I don’t think there are such laws here.” Dick said, but his confidence wavered.”

“Tt. First of why don’t anyone ask me or Marinette about our opinion?” Damian asked irritated.

“Shut up Demon Spawn. Adults are working here”

“If you don’t shut up, Todd, I will make you eat your dirty socks until you choke on the stench.” The young boy threatened. Marinette cringed at this, not really wanting to imaging such situation. 

“The marriage stays.” Talia stated coldly. “Otherwise, I will not be able to stop League from going to war against Order of the Guardians.”

“You are their leader.” Batman pointed out.

“That may be correct, beloved, but I am but a regent. Only after Damian finally assumes the leadership, his word will be law. I do try to reform the league, but there is little I can do in this situation.”

“Bullshit!” Jason cursed. “You are just manipulative bitch.”

“Jason!” Dick hit the back of Red Hood’s helmet, causing him to almost tumble. “Language. There are minors in the room.”

“Don’t worry Mousier.” Marinette noted that the whole debate shifted to English. She learned it years ago when she first got interested in fashion. Some of the greatest fashion critiques wrote only in English and she didn’t want to be left behind. And other foreign critiques and designers were always translated into English. “After today, cursing is the least of my worries.” During the talk, Marinette pulled her yo-yo to check the situation in Paris. The good news were that there was no Akuma attack since her confrontation with Hawkmoth. Bad news: she was gone for over forty hours already.

“What exactly is the deal?” Bruce sighted. He loved his boys, but he could practically feel his hair graying. At least the girls didn’t go around marrying total strangers. “I want the full story Talia. Don’t even try to deceive us.”

“As you wish Beloved.” She smiled and sat back at her chair. Jason was about to hop onto where Marinette sat, but Damian ‘accidentally’ tripped him. Ladybug detransformed and Tikki flew out. 

“What is this flying mouse?!” Dick screeched upon seeing a kwami.

“My name is Tikki. I am kwami, or if you prefer a small god, of creation and luck.” 

“Okay… I’ve totally seen weirder.” Jason shrugged and Tim was too busy trying to plug in his pocket kettle to make himself some coffee.

“Ekhm.” Bruce faux-coughted to get their attention. “Begin Talia.”

“Many centuries ago, magic jewels bestowing extraordinary powers were created. These were... the Miraculous. Throughout history, heroes have used these jewels for the good of the human race. Order of The Guardians was responsible for protecting and distributing the Miraculous for the good of all humanity. Some time in the past, League has learned about the existence of this artifacts, more powerful than even Lazarus Pit. A secret war began between two organizations. There was a constant stalemate until the Order was mysteriously destroyed without a trace. We believed all miraculous to be lost until two years ago heroes and villains using them appeared in Paris. Initially, we ignored them, long since abandoning this war. But then, some month ago a temple of the Guardians suddenly reappeared with the Order in chaos. The League attacked, but they were strong enough to withstand the initial strike and turn it into a siege. In time, we would have succeeded and wiped them once and for all. But instead, the Guardians understood their situation and reached to us with agreement. A truce and alliance, in exchange for sparing them.”

“Yeah right! Only an idiot would take such offer!” Red Hood kept arguing with the Assassin woman.

“Or a strategist. Either way, the League wins. They no longer need to worry about threat, but this way they also get an ally.” Batman remained expressionless, but he kept sending Damian and Marinette side-glares. He wanted to know how they are coping with this. The girl was a bit shaken, but that was to be expected. He would talk more with her later. What surprised him was that Damian seemed to show concern for her. The kind he usually reserved only for his brothers and father. 

“Yes. While our methods differ, the League and the Order have a common goal: prosperity for all humanity. But to ensure that neither side would go against the other, there needed to be a more tangible symbol of this union.”

“Marriage of the heirs. In the past such method was often used to symbolize an alliance. It symbolized equality of both partners and parties they represented.” Tim acted as an universal encyclopedia again, which Jason did exploit to tease him mercilessly while the others focused on the discussion.

“And let me guess” Dick frowned. “If they break the deal, it means war?”

“Yes.” Damian simply nodded. The memory of his mother’s threat hanging over the girl’s live was still fresh. Now that he got to know her better Damian was surprised that someone so brave and strong could at the same time be such emotionally unstable or open. It was almost refreshing. His family was awful with emotions and beyond that women only saw his last name. Many times he dealt with liars who tried to use him to get into the pockets of his father. But with Marinette he was sure that she was genuine with her feelings. He could not find any reason for her not to be at the moment, especially after she revealed her secret to him. 

“So what? We are just supposed to roll with it? What will press think? You will give Alfred a heart attack Damian.” Dick rambled. Youngest Wayne decided to ignore him and turn to his father. 

“While this might be a bit inconvenient, I believe it is the best course of action for now.” Damian spoke with cold and calculative voice.

“And what about you?” Batman turned to the girl, who for the most part lately was busy discussing something with the kwami in French. Bruce was proficient, but he was too focused on Talia and Damian.

“I… I accepted that my duty as Great Guardian comes with certain responsibilities. If this is what it takes to preserve peace, then I guess… I guess I will roll with it.” She smiled at Dick, almost daringly. Damian smiled too. Anyone who teased his brothers like that earned some points in his book. “But I can’t just leave Paris. For now it’s peaceful, but I don’t know how long it will last. And there are my parents… Oh Kwami! What will I tell my parents! Or my friends! Or my class! What if they reject me for this and I will be kicked from home, then I will not become a professional designer and I will never fulfill my dream and I will be forever lonely…” She unintentionally rambled in mixture of English and French while walking in circle and waving her hands. Damian grabbed her by her wrists to stop her before she accidentally knocked someone out and then cupped her hands with his. She was still talking random stuff, which made absolutely zero sense. Damn. She is cute when she is rambling. What!? He shut down the intrusive thoughts and focused on the girl… his wife.

“Calm down. Take deep breaths. You will not be alone.” He hoped it would work, but she barely slowed down. He sighted. Damian looked her deep in her bluebell eyes and she saw the two whirlpools of jade green he had. They were more prominent that Adrien’s. “Listen to my voice. All is going to be fine. We will not leave you.” This time, it did work and she calmed down. 

Rest of the Batfam watched in shock how Damian has acted. It was most unusual for him to initiate physical contact at all, much less act this gentle. They looked at Talia, but she shrugged.

“I didn’t do anything if that’s what you think.” She smirked. “But I don’t think I needed.” Two newly-wed were just standing there, starring in each other’s eyes.

“Robin!” Batman finally got him to break out of this. “We gotta go. We will figure out exactly what to do later.”

“Fine. But we are taking Marinette with us.” Damian stubbornly stated.

“Yes. She should not stay here. And I have more questions for her.”

The flight to Paris was surprisingly fast. They traveled in perfect silence, but she felt rather uncomfortable with how everyone (bar Damian) sent her a suspicious glares. Finally, they landed around 8 PM on the rooftop of local Wayne Enterprises headquarter. She walked out first, happy to finally get back onto her home turf.

“Now there are some questions that needs to be answered.” Batman spoke.

“Uhm… Okay?”

“Stop intimidating her Father.” Damian scowled. 

Bruce reluctantly nodded. “Maybe it would be the best to discuss it in private of my office.” He pressed some buttons on his glove and the bat-plane camouflage. Well, it was probably more of Bat-cargo plane since it could fit six people comfortably and still have much space free. 

They got into the office, where Bruce had a total of five armchairs set around the coffee table. Immediately, Damian and Dick took two of them, leaving the head one for Bruce and one in between the two Waynes for Marinette. Tim didn’t bother trying to fight with Jason over who gets the last place, instead opting to just jump onto computer chair at the desk and activating a holo-screen. He quickly connected to Batcomputer and started to pull various files (mostly on Marinette and her close ones, but she didn’t see it). 

“So tell me. What is our young couple planning to do now?” Dick teased them.

Jason was standing next to the alcohol bar, pouring several glasses of whiskey. Before Bruce could protest, he brought five and placed them on the table. His reaction to disapproving glare from the other adults was to just shrug. “What? They are married. I think underage drinking would be the least of the problems. Oh! That reminds me.” Jason grinned maliciously and pulled his wallet. He tossed something square and silver at Damian. “I don’t want any demon spawns junior running around soon.”

Once Marinette realized what was that and what was he implying she turned redder than Tim’s outfit. Damian scowled. “I have a sword on me Todd, so watch what you are saying. I might not have chosen her to be my bride, but I will not let you embarrass her just for your fun.”

Jason saw an opportunity and he would be damned if he didn’t take it. “Which sword are you talking about?”

Damian hissed like an angry cat and drawn his sword, lunging at his brother. Todd initially wanted to block the attack with his gun, but fine steel cut right through it. Seeing murder in Damian’s face he did the only plausible thing: started to run.

Marinette was inventing new shades of red with her blushing. Bruce gave her an apologetic look. “Please, don’t take his comments to heart. Jason is…” before batman could find a right word there was a sound of something crashing, followed by a painful yelp. In just a moment, Damian returned happy, his sword a bit bloody.

“Please tell me you didn’t kill him…” Dick begged. Marinette was not sure whether this was a joke or not, but the longer she stayed with the batfam, the less sane they appeared.

“Nah. But he didn’t look where he was running and toppled the stack of boxes and I ended up stabbing him in his left calf. He will live.” Damian assured them. And true to his words, a limping Jason appeared in the doors. He grabbed a fresh bottle of whiskey on his way to the armchair and slumped resigned. “Demon spawn!”

“Idiot!”

“Enough!” Bruce wanted to pull his hair out. “We came here to discuss a certain situation not stab each other. Marinette?”

“Yes monsieur Wayne?” She asked, still stunned with what happened. She had to admit Damian acter chiviliarus protecting her honor, even if his way was pretty violent. 

“I was trying to ask you, what do you plan on doing now?”

“I… I don’t know. This all happened so fast…”

“It’s okay. I don’t think anyone would have a plan for such situation.” Dick reassured her

“Bruce does. It’s inside the safe in the batcave in folder labeled ‘Talia never gives up’.” Tim chimed in before returning to his research. 

“Well, no one sane has such plans.” Dick tried to cheer her up. It did work even if just a bit. “But ask yourself what do you want.”

“Well… I would wish to finish my education and I always dreamed about becoming a professional fashion designer.” 

“And how is this plan working so far?” Bruce inquired.

“Well, I do run a small internet boutique, where I take commissions and uncle Jagged refuses to wear anything that wasn’t personally designed by me.” She said casually.

“Wait a moment… Uncle Jagged as in Jagged Stone, the world-class rock musician?!” Tim suddenly shouted.

“Uh… yes?” She got confused

“But his only designer is the mysterious MDC! That would mean you are MDC!”

“Uh… yes?” Marinette had no idea why Tim acted like that.

“Oh god! Oh god! I got to meet MDC! Can I get your authograph?” He was suddenly next to her, holding a copy of the her first album cover she made for Jagged.

“Sure.” She signed it and handed it back. It read: ‘Good luck TD, MDC’.

Tim Fainted.

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

Taglist (sorry if I missed you)

@pheonixashtree @sassakitty @unabashedbookworm @vixen-uchiha @maggiecc12 @actualdisasterwoman @tired-butterfly @shizukiryuu @floralfi @imanerddealwith @northernbluetongue @krispydefendorpolice @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @bluesoulblueheart @theatreandcomicfreak @disneyfoxuniverse @mindfulmagics @alwaysnumberonetruth @nyaabinch @jardimazul @lenamau @rosep16 @dramatic-squirrel @sonif50 @daminett4life @lulutheawkwardess @weird-pale-blonde-person @mooshoon @jeminiikrystal @mochegato @moonlightstar64 

[fallen029]

Open

"How did you get it?"

"Get what?"

"Your scar."

Mirajane stared at Laxus with the same disappointment he'd stared at so many other women, in moments like this, just like this, where they were at their closest, their most intimate, and he began to have ideas and feelings and thoughts and desires for something more, something concrete, something real, but then they'd brush their finger over his most cliché part, the zigzag that laid across his eye, and question him about it. Ponder. Wonder. Ask. Blatantly. Because they thought they could. Because they were in a relationship, or at least something close, they were close and that meant that they could discuss the sorts of things that one discusses when they're close, but they weren't close.

Someone close to you, who felt so deeply for you, everything beneath the surface and in-between the crevices, would never ask something like that. Because they would know. Without ever lingering on it, ever questioning it, they would just know. Be well aware. Without knowing the truth, they would know better than to ask. Something so personal and tragic and...and…

And he thought they were different.

Because they were different.

She was different, than every other woman that thought that because they could bring him to his knees that he should just surrender every hidden part of himself. He was different, with her, than the closed off, distant and expectant, so expectant and rigid, man that he was with every other woman.

If she'd asked him, if she'd really asked him, straight up and honestly, about how he found himself with a lightning bolt scarring his flesh, he would tell her straight up. Not get huffy or defensive. Not give some bullshit, bogus lie about how he'd done it himself, or had it done, maybe, with the help of Freed and Bickslow, to make himself look cool. No. He'd have told her the truth. Not withdrawn or been ashamed. Been angry or defensive.

Mirajane was different to him, than every other woman before, and he loved her, he truly, honestly loved something, someone, for once, and it was so real and raw and it hadn't really been that long, but he'd never felt this way, not really, not even when he'd thought that this was the exact thing that he was feeling, all those times before, but this time was so different and real and special and she was it. He knew she was it.

Perhaps it was his own self-importance, the arrogance and swagger he had, to think that just because he felt this way, just because he'd fallen so hopelessly and madly in love, that without a doubt, of course, Mirajane had found herself feeling the same. That of course, to her, their summer romance while the S-Class jobs weren't rolling in and he was taking a break, while she was finding more time off work as Kinana desired more hours, wasn't going to bloom into something more, but rather die off, fade away, with the long days, like a fling should, like all summer flings should. Because oh, they were the same, of course they were the same, but at the same time, they were so different because he was in love, he knew he was in love, he could tell he was in love, truly in love, but she was not.

Was she?

The way she withdrew then, from him, as he traced a finger across the faded, old, but still prominent scar she had right beneath her left breast, long and crooked, but hidden typically from the world, even with her typical skimpiest of outfits or swimwear, it lay just so perfectly, but prominently, to Laxus, who spent so much of his time with his head buried there now. And he'd traced it before, both with the tips of his fingers and the point of his tongue, but now as he did it with the edge of his fingernail and spoke those words, so softly, that he'd so often heard spoken to him.

Mirajane shifted back from him, a certain look crossing over his previously content expression, and he had to wonder how he'd fucked it up, so quickly, so easily, so obviously, as the moment shattered and he fell away from her as well, both silent now with their own realizations about the other, spawning from a simple question.

Laxus would have told Mirajane anything he wanted. He thought that he did tell her everything she wanted. He'd opened up, in this short expanse of days where it felt much longer than the multitude of years they'd known one another, however sparingly, for the majority of their teenage years and all of their adulthood. He knew so much about her, learned so much about her, from this some odd thirty, sixty days, whatever it was, it didn't matter, all that mattered was how special they were, how important, those days, these days, but if this was fleeting, if she didn't feel that way, if she didn't hope the same as him, that the summer never ended, then…

Then…

"I'm sorry."

"Dragon-"

"No, I shouldn't have ask-"

"It's not that."

Mirajane found that she couldn't look at him. That she didn't want to. Then. He was getting out of bed then, following her silence, and she felt like she should do something, to stop this from happening, but at the same time, she wasn't the one who'd spurred it on.

Was she?

No.

No.

He'd done this, by questioning her, asking her that, and she hadn't mean to draw away, visibly recoil at his words, but it just took her back a bit, his question. In a way she wasn't expecting. It wasn't exactly something she was asked about frequently. If at all. Mira found most everyone had scars, in some way or another, especially given the line of work they were in. And considering so many of the men she did find interest in were also mages, working far more than she did in those days, most of their bodies were speckled and marred by an assortment, some even in awkward places.

But Laxus' was different. She'd give him that. If she knew his hangup about it, then she would surrender that nugget to him, yes, of course, because his was so prominent, so much a part of who he was, brought together his whole facial structure, really.

Plus, well, she knew Laxus fancied himself as different. From the rest of them. His pain and trauma, baggage and backstory were intricate to him in a way the rest of them didn't understand. Laxus lived for his pain and his anguish. The remembrance. He liked to pretend that it was in his past, where it belonged, like the rest of them were forced to do away with their own, but unlike the rest of them, Fairy Tail wasn't an escape, a gateway away from the tragic years that brought them as wayward youths to the guild's sanctuary. It was a constant reminder of all he'd gone through, the enigma that brought about so much strife to his family. Fairy Tail was the Dreyars, but also destroyed the Dreyars.

Even if everything had worked out, when she was young, in her village, she imagined she'd still have left eventually, would have had to, to get away from what it had meant, what she'd felt, all the scenery to remind her, constantly, of when she lost her parents, her childhood, and her freedom. She'd want to be somewhere new, carving a path, separate from the things that had drug her down, even if it wasn't to her absolute degradation, somewhere where she wasn't remind constantly of what she'd lost. Who she'd lost.

Mirajane loved Fairy Tail because all her early memories tied to it involved discovering her magic, battling it out with Erza, watching her younger brother and sister, both ravaged by the world, come out of their shells again, find friends again, discover happiness again.

Laxus' memories, as he'd told her before, in moments like this, where he felt his most open, consisted of all the people he'd known, not just his parents, but all of the people, the past members, who eitehr died out there, on jobs, or just went away, disappeared, gone of to live fulfilling lives separate from the only thing that he could ever imagine being; a Fairy Tail wizard.

A mage.

A fairy.

Laxus lived with his trauma, his past, shoved in his face every single time he walked through the wrought iron gates and into the hall, the one that had changed so many damn times, but still felt the same, no matter it's grown or shrinkage, as the air inside consisted of the exact same presence it always did, all the way back to when he was just a little kid.

The scar cut across his eye was much the same. Plain for everyone to see. But hidden in the fact that he'd never tell, he couldn't tell, anyone anything about it. Refused.

With the power of transformation magic, Mirajane could hide just about any blemish or marking on her body that she wished. And she didn't mostly, usually. It was a nominal amount of magic, it was almost second nature to her. She didn't know what it was not to hide away parts of herself. Not face them. Not force others to do the same.

But it was different. Overnight. Frequent, overnights, which she found herself dealing with then, with Laxus, as they'd lay in bed together, so openly and freely, and she warned him the first time, she let it all down, her magic and guard, but he only laughed and made some passing remark about how silly she was. Feminine. Girly. Womanly. Something like that. Equally dismissive. To be so concerned about appearance.

She laughed too, because it did sound silly, didn't it? All of it? To care about something like that? And it was so hot, that summer, the summer that they were together nearly every night, falling into his bed together, alone in his apartment instead of crammed and hammed up with her siblings back home, that Mira found it best not to wear anything, nothing at all if she could help it, and it felt so freeing for it to occur to the two of them, at the same time, the same thought, without a word spoken between them.

When the guise fell, when the ruse faded her flesh didn't look so pure and white, but nothing about the two of them ever was and Laxus seemed happy and content, in his own way, his unspoken way, for them to be like this together. Open. Unabashed.

Laxus didn't want the summer to end, but Mirajane did. She wanted it to shift to the colder months, where they had to cuddle up together and wait out the heat once more. He didn't want things to change, but she couldn't wait until they did, until they changed into something even more solid and real.

"Seriously, just drop it. I shouldn't have-"

"It's okay, Laxus. Really. I-"

"You don't have to tell me-"

"I know why you asked."

Of course she did.

Of course she did.

Because of all the random assortments of scars she had, from all the battles she'd fought, won and lost, this one was the oddest, wasn't it? All alone? In it's age? It looked far fresher, because it was, than any other she had. In a strange place. He was curious because he brushed against it so frequently, because she talked of her life so frequently, but never mentioned this not yet faded, not truly, still raised somewhat, rough patch of skin. Even without her magic, the others were all at least somewhat hard to notice, as they blended with age, but this one was different.

Why was everything about the two of them so different?

This was hidden because she chose to hide it, she was able to hide it, with or without her magic, and it was separate, from everything, and she knew he'd question it, eventually, he seemed to run his fingers, tongue, everything across it so frequently, and this was just a game of averages, between the two of them. Trying to out play the other. How much could be given up in exchange for silence on the rest?

He meant no disrespect, hadn't considered the possibility of such a negative reaction, but as he sat there then, on the edge of the bed, feet rooted in the floor, he wasn't pushing up, getting away, like he'd seemed to desire the second he realized the err in his delving. Instead, he just sat there, head turned just slightly in the darkness of his bedroom, staring over at her with something of interest, maybe, or perhaps just hopeful acceptance once more. Whether she told him the truth or not, expelled all of her secrets and thoughts and feelings and emotions regarding the scarred flesh no longer mattered; he just wanted her to pull him back down on the bed and banish any fears over misdeed.

But when she reached for him, to pull him back down, into the bed once more, it wasn't to rectify his mistake, but rather to sigh, deeply as they rested their foreheads against one another's, the silence different now, but still hinged on something.

"I just," Mira whispered softly as he bowed his head then, her lips brushing over his golden locks instead, "don't like to talk about it. Think about it."

"That's okay," Laxus assured her, burying his head into her, wishing he could go back to how he was before, when he wasn't absolutely terrified of the thought that she didn't want him, or wouldn't want him any longer, once the summer began its descent. "Really. We-"

"It was...recently, is all." She thread some fingers into his hair then, blinking some as she thought. "And not in...battle or training or anything, so I just..."

He wasn't ready again, so soon, but that was fine because that wasn't what she wanted and when she pushed him back, shoved him really, suddenly, so he was staring up at her, Laxus only blinked sleepily.

Reaching down, Mira traced a finger over the zagging line that scarred his face, made him look so mean, so evil, so much like her Satan Soul take over, but different, because he wore this every single day. Not as a mask, but as a part of himself.

They were so different.

His eyelid fluttered shut, instinctively, void of intention, while the other stayed wide open, watching as she applied pressure, just a bit, while gliding down the lightning bolt-esque marking over his eyes, feeling it, truly, for the first time.

"Who gave you yours?" she asked softly and he didn't even think about it, didn't reflect, just answered honestly.

"Ivan," he replied dryly, but honestly and Mirajane nodded her head slightly as she removed her finger from his cheek.

"I was dating a...jerk, a few months before you first asked me out." She shrugged some, glancing away from him then. "From another guild. It was...different, than how it is, with you and me. And we kind of… He just wasn't someone I should have been with. He had his own stuff going on-"

"Do I," Laxus asked her softly then, his voided gaze turning harder then, "know him?"

"No," she whispered, but she nodded her head, just a bit, and he glared. Then, sighing, she added, "It doesn't matter."

He wanted to argue, she could tell, but relented some as he remarked, "Why did he...cut you?"

It felt blunt, put like that, and Mirajane looked away as she remarked, "He didn't. Not really. We were...fighting, and his magic… It's stupid. His magic just caught me because I wasn't going to, you know, transform on him or anything. I just...and he…he underestimated me. Most men do."

Reaching out, he sat up some as he caught her chin, just slightly, in his palm, forcing her to meet his eyes. They were on even ground again. Finally.

"I don't," Laxus whispered to which she smiled, weakly, distantly, just really.

"I know," she agreed as he fell back then. "Dragon."

They were shifting again, together now, as she slowly fell back into bed as well, and they were together again, settling once more for the night. In the morning, she had to get down to the hall and he'd promised to train with the Thunder Legion, so they needed their sleep, they needed far more than they were typically allotted, but at the same time, in that moment, he didn't want it.

At all.

But she did.

At least somewhat.

"Why do things have to change?" he muttered as his eyes felt heavy and this was all just a dream, almost, kind of, it felt like, but Mia's lips felt warm against his cheek as well as her breath, reminding him that it was all real, all too real.

It felt like a weird thing to say, a very weird thing to say, honestly, but somehow, someway, because they really were connected, maybe, unspoken, but known, and Mirajane understood perfectly.

"Because if they don't," she answered with a yawn, falling back into her side of the bed then as he blinked at her some more, determination the only thing winning out against sleep in the battle to keep his eyes either open or closed, "then they can never get any better."

"Can't get any worse," he reminded, but she only shrugged.

"Sometimes," she told him simply, "it's worth the risk."

And after finding this to be true, following his question that brought about the entire interaction, it was hard for him to do anything other than agree.

[hitchell-mope]

(Film three. After “pirates medley”. The hook sisters have just run into an alleyway near the marketplace)

Harriet: ya shouldna done kiddo

Cj: why not.

Harriet: because it wasn’t a good move

Cj: you might like men drooling all over you but I hate it.

Harriet: you agreed to it.

Cj: I didn’t think they’d try that. So I’d apprecrie you dispensing with the victim blaming if you please.

Harriet: yeah yeah whatever. Lookee o’er there

Cj: aw FUCK!

(They’ve just spotted chadeficent and Ursula some ways away)

Harriet: SEA WITCH!

Ursula: oh god. (Fake smile) Harriet! To what do I owe the

(Cj shoots her in the stomach with a blunderbuss)

The sisters: where is he.

(Ursula straightens up and the bullet flies out of her stomach hitting some poor sap in the head)

Chadeficent: that was Balthazar yes?

The other three: who the hell cares?

Harriet: where is my brother?

Ursula: hmmmmm. Dunno don’t care. That work for you?

(Harriet lunges are the sea witch but Cj holds her back. While this is happening Hadie poofs back in slightly singed and very pissed off)

Hadie: for the record Rodan. I don’t appreciate being sent to Dark Mountain. Chernabog may be insultingly attractive but he’s far too fatherly for my tastes.

Cj: shove off spawn. There’s more important matters at hand

(Hadie chuckles sinisterly. Then force chokes the sisters)

Hadie: oh look at that. Fragile necks and bravado are such an inexplicable combination. And as you will see very soon. Deadly

Harriet: he.. he he mi...dea.

Cj: he...gone

Hadie: what? What’re you talking about?

Chadeficent: oh I think you know

(Hadie’s eyes glow bright grey. He drops the sisters, takes out a silver knife and throws it at Ursula. It slashes her cheek)

Hadie: ever heard of phlegathon tempered steel? It cuts you. Then heals you. But keeps you in burning unbearable pain. Until such time the wielder chooses to release you from it.

(Ursula’s cheek is starting to burn. Steam is curling from the edges of the cut)

Ursula: I was exiled from Atlantica. Whatever petty wound you deal me is of no consequence.

Hadie: yeah but (he sighs) cut you enough and it burns away your very being. So. What’ll it be bitch?

(Ursula growls in irritation and disappears in a torrent of water)

Hadie: now that that’s over oh cripes they’re gone.

(Chadeficent and the girls have left the scene. At the Jolly Roger Hook is waiting on deck)

Hook: GIRLS! What the hell have you been doing. Dukes is dead. And the men say you killed him Cj. If you keep doing this you’ll never land a husband.

Cj: aye. And what of it father?

Harriet: oh god not now.

Cj: yes now. Our brother has been missing for a year now and may as well be dead and all he cares about is his disgusting heterosexual misogynistic bastards of a crew

Harriet (coughing): code red. Code red

Hook: what’re you saying Cj?

Cj: what d’you think I’m saying dad?

Hook: it sounds as though you’re thinking to much like your freak of a brother

Harriet: Harry was bisexual pops

Hook: like I said. A freak. Men are with women. Women are with men. It’s the law of the world. And I expect my children abide by that

Cj: yes and when they don’t you cast them out and they need to take refuge somewhere else. Say a restaurant run by a squid

Hook: if you have something to say then say it.

Cj: ok. I like girls. Always have. Always will. And you cannae change it or me

(Starkey hobbles outside with a tea set. Sees the family feud. Starts to make his way back inside)

Hook: STARKEY! Did you know about Cj’s affliction

Cj: oh here we go

Starkey (diplomatically): uhhhh. I believe that. She. Wanted

Cj: it’s ok uncle Starkey. I told him last year. Considering he was the one that raised me while you were brainswashing Harriet into being Captain Hook 2.0 and Harry was fuck knows were trying to get Tick Tock to chomp his hand off in a vain attempt to get your approval!!!!

Hook: in time this will pass and you’ll be just like your sister

Cj (scoffing): of course. Be like Harriet. The pretty one. The smart one. The obedient one.

Harriet (for once very sheepish): Ceej. Could ya please lemme outta this?

Cj: no. He’s always wanted me to be like you. But guess what. I’m never gonna be who you want me to be

(This is when “sit still look pretty” happens. After the song Cj storms off)

Hook: and do you have any oddities you’d like to share Harriet? Because if so nows the time

Harriet: yes. As a matter of fact I do. For the past seven years I’ve been in uh heh “cahoots” with Gaston junior.

Hook: like the freak and the pansy

Harriet: sort of. Except theirs was more emotional. Ours is. Purely on the physical side. And yes. I’m the boss.

(Hook goes puce)

Harriet: uncle Starkey. I’ll be back presently

(She runs after her sister)

Hook: take me back to my quarters Starkey

Starkey: of course sir.

(He wheels the captain back in side. Harriet catches up with Cj. She finds her in an alleyway surrounded by the felled bodies of ten dogs and one cat)

Harriet: what the hell did you do.

Cj: the one thing I ever got from him, that wasn’t a hand me down from you or Har, was this.

(She holds up a whistle)

Harriet: wow

Cj: yep. Turns out it’s a dog whistle. Which pretty succinctly explains how the bastards could hear it all the way across Neverland when Jane found the treasure

Harriet: and the morbidly obese demon on four legs?

Cj: Tremaine’s moggy

Harriet: right. What you did was incredibly brave you know.

Cj: I don’t like animals.

Harriet: I meant what happened at home just now

Cj: I know. Like I said. I don’t like animals.

(At the core fours old apartment chadeficent has just arrived. Only to see Jafar watching tv)

Chadeficent: hello worthless. Miss me?

Jafar: who...?

Chadeficent (Maleficent’s voice): this better?

Jafar (exasperated): you couldn’t have taken control of a pretty one?

Chadeficent (Chad’s voice): fuck off you crypt keeper

(Jafar looks taken aback)

Chadeficent: bugs are to be worked out

Jafar: what is it?

Chadeficent: spawn of Cinderella

Jafar: you couldn’t have got the ash girl herself?

Chadeficent: too strong willed (Chad’s indignant voice) hey! (Maleficent’s voice) SILENCE! (Both voices) I am creating a cult. To destroy our children. Ursula is aboard. What say you?

(The next morning. At Evie’s palce)

Mal:...and Ben found them this morning passed out on the couch with like eight tubs of deluxe rocky road ice scattered at round.

Jay: deluxe?

Mal: chocolate marshmallow ice cream instead of chocolate ice cream

Jay (hopefully): Christmas list?

Mal (generating a tin with magic): why wait?

Jay: ooh yay!

Evie: AH! No. Not yet

Jay: awww. I’ve been here for an hour

Mal: let the man eat sis. It’s the least you can do since you are stabbing him with pins when you could just use 🎶🎶magic🎶. By the way. Your hair remarkably black today

Evie (snarling): get outta workshop

(Mal leaves cackling. She goes to the kitchen where Carlos is giving a plate the thousand yard stare)

Mal: hey kiddo. What’s up?

Carlos (softly with a lot of feeling): the cake...it’s gone. An entire macadamia nut chocolate sponge cake. Gone. How? There was enough for fifty people to have two slices each. And it’s all gone. How can it all be gone?

(The twins and Gil come racing pass the room screeching at the top of their lungs with food all around their mouths)

Mal (aside to Carlos): I think I know. (Normal volume). Gil! Could you bring the kids in here please?

(Gil troops back to the kitchen with the twins trailing behind. All three look terrified. Carlos and Mal lift the twins up onto the counter)

Mal (“mom” voice in full effect): now boys. Did you ask your papa to get the cake from the fridge?

Twins: uhhhh...

Mal: it’s ok. I’m not mad. I just wanna. If it was you then that’s ok. If it was Dude then we need to get him to a veterinarian.

Carlos: WHAT?!?!

Mal: oh shit. Sorry honey.

Carlos: listen to me you rotten little————(the twins look at him with the epitome of puppy eyed innocence) 🎶dad. Where are you. You’re good with this type of stuff🎶

Mal: paperwork

Carlos: fuck

Gil: it was us. Squeaky wanted a snack and I couldn’t find anything in the fridge but the cake. We only meant to share a corner but Celia oh crap

Mal: 🎶oh Celia🎶

(The girl melts out from the shadows clutching her stomach)

Mal: did you help Gil and the twins eat the entirety of Jane’s birthday cake?

Celia: if I says yes what would you do.

Mal: give you an antacid and advise you to take it easy with the party food.

Celia: then yes. I helped.

Mal: come on then.

(They head to the bathroom. But Mal’s phone starts ringing)

Mal: it’s Ben. Do you know how to get to the bathroom?

Celia: Dizzy sent me a schematic last night

Mal: good. That’s good. If evo finds out I will plead the fifth. You do know that don’t you?

Celia: wouldn’t expect anything less. See ya

(She runs off)

Mal (answering her cell phone): hello your majesty. Any idea on your eta or should I send your apologies to Jane?

Ben: I wish I was close to being done. But there are so many papers to get through and there’s no use in denying it. People are terrified at what ever killed the guards.

Mal: I could come and help you?

Ben: no. Definitely not. Go have fun. Do the routine.

Mal: but you’ll miss it. Though a private rendition for your eyes only could also be very interes-

Cogsworth: ahem hello my lady

Mal (trying not to laugh): sorry Carlton.

Cogsworth: that’s quite alright dear. I’ll just uh go ahem away

(He leaves and bal bursts into laughter)

Mal: oh that was oh god that

Ben: I I’m so sorry

Mal: don’t be. Just sorted a domestic so a I needed a laugh

(As they’re talking Mal’s walking outside)

Mal: what on the office menu today

Ben: chargrilled Damon foie gras and quinoa

Mal: what no pizza?

Ben: fraid not

Mal: I can always zap you some sausage rolls and mac and cheese cupcakes from the party

Ben: please and thank you?

Mal: and the new cake

Ben: Celia?

Mal: along with your brother and nephews. Carlos was not happy

Ben: of course.

Mal: hey, was chad supposed to meet us at Evie’s?

Ben: I don’t think so. Is he there?

Mal: yeah. Looking like the shalka Doctor.

Ben: oh.

Mal: I’ll go see what he wants

Ben: be careful. Love ya

Mal: always am. Love you too.

(She hangs up)

Mal: hey chad. Whatcha doing

(Chadeficent turns to look at her. Their eyes glow black. And Mal enacts the safety protocols on the house keeping everyone else inside and safe)

Mal: what did you do?

Chadeficent (Maleficent’s voice): oh it’s not chad. Hello my sweet

Mal (breathing heavily): Maleficent?

Chadeficent: mhmm. Now give me my sceptre

Mal: what did you do to him?

Chadeficent: he is simply a mindless hormone driven teenage boy

Mal: yeah, I know, he’s an dickhead. Nobody likes him. At all

Chadeficent (Chad’s voice, very, very hurt): they don’t?

Mal: yeah. You’re insufferable.

Chadeficent (Maleficent’s voice): ENOUGH! Give me the sceptre

Mal: you stole the wand didn’t you. And the staff and the mirror. So why do you need the sceptre.

Chadeficent: I want everything of importance (Chad’s voice) I wanna be king (Maleficent’s voice) I want my daughter back

Mal: I’m not your daughter. And chad you hate magic. Why would you use it to be king?

Chadeficent (Chad’s voice): I uh I dunno (Maleficent’s voice) he was easily bought with a butter finger and empty promises I have absolutely no intention on fulfilling. Now. The sceptre.

Mal (mind working a mile a minute): h how, how about a story. And I can make you a cup of tea yeah? Or coffeee?

Chadeficent (Chad’s voice): ooh beer (Maleficent’s voice) very well. But be quick about it

Mal: ok. Ok um

(She turns to the drinks table. This is when “she’s so gone” happens. After which Chadeficent picks her up from the splintered table by the neck)

Mal: why...are..you...doing...this?

Chadeficent (Chad’s voice): you don’t deserve this. None of it. You belong on that slag heap. You deserve to rot. To be forgotten. I want you all dead. Don’t you see? You can’t be queen. It’s not right. Audrey should be queen. And I should be king

Mal: but...Ben

Chadeficent (still Chad’s voice): ALL OF YOU WILL DIE. YOU. THE MAGIC PEOPLE THE RUNT THE CHICKS THE TRAIOR THE FREAK OF A DWARF. ALL OF YOU. DEAD (Maleficent’s voice) as for me. I want to break you. For you to see how useless you truly are without me.

Mal (turning purple in the face now): get...bent

(Chadeficent drops her and pulls out the wand)

Chadeficent (Chad’s voice): there’s never been an ugly bitch who’s been queen. Looks are everything. Bibbidi bobbidi boo

(Mal is washed is black light which solidified into a black cloak. The houses doors are blasted off their hinges and jay stands there completely gold and absolutely buzzing with power. Chadeficent cackles as they disappear in black smoke. Jay and the others rush to Mal’s side)

Carlos: oh my god! Mom are you ok?

Mal (voice hoarse thin and cracked): yes ahem yes ye yeah. What the hells wrong with my voice

(Evie takes the hood off of Mal and cackles)

Evie: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OH MY GOD! YOU LOOK LIKE

Jay (unimpressed with her behaviour): your mother. When she gave the apple to Doug’s aunt

(Evie stops cackling)

Carlos: what happened

Mal: Chad’s possessed by Maleficent. He wants to kill us all and be king

Carlos: and goat lady?

Mal: wants to break me

Evie: so what do we do

Celia: isn’t it obvious? Hades. Your father.

Evie: he is not

Celia: Mal was right and you know it. So stop pissing about and help me get your sister inside the house so she can get some proper clothes on cause an old lady in a minidress is not a good look. I should know. Cruella used to come to the arcade in the warm days. It’s was horrifying. Thank you Carlos for killing her last year by the way

Carlos: much obliged Ceels.

(Mal’s phone rings again. This time Carlos is the one to answer it)

Carlos: hi yes dad. Ok brace yourself. Chad has the wand. He’s possessed by Maleficent. He wants us all dead. Barricade yourself in your office. Emergency protocols. All that shizz. You have magic so you should be fine. We’re gonna stop them. It’s what we do. Us too (he ends the call) that’s dad sorted. Now how do we fix mom?

Celia: go to the island. Get the ember. Come back here. Kick him in the balls until he’s exorcised

Mal: Gil. You coming with us?

Gil: I would but. My boys

Doug: I’ll stay with them. I have my exosuit. I’ll keep them safe. I promise you I will

Gil: ok

Evie: oh my god!

Doug: our kid is fine. She’s with Lonnie and Jane. You know. A badass and a light fairy.

Evie: oh thank god

Jay: so we all know what we’re doing. Action time?

All the others: action time

Squirmy: AAAAAH

Gil (panicky): what? What is it? What’s wrong

Squirmy: I want to give the pretty lady my present

(He holds up a bouquet of periwinkle blue tulips. Everyone relaxes)

Gil: Jane will love them. But it could be a good idea to keep them here. Just until we’re all back together. Yeah?

Squirmy (unhappily): yeah

Doug: c’mon boys. You can help me bake a new cake.

The twins: YAAAAAAAAY

(They run back in. Evie goes up and embraces Doug)

Evie: we’ll be back soon as possible

Doug: take however long you need. I stabbed someon in the junk last year. I can defend myself

Evie: oh I know that. It’s just that

Doug: Evie sweetie. Look at me. I’ll be fine. I promise. And if I need to reach you there’s our phones the the psychic link you set up.

Evie (voice breaking): I...

Doug (understandingly): me too. Now let’s go

(They all run back into the house except for one)

Mal: uh. Guys

Jay: oh. Right

(He runs back and carries her to the house)

Mal: watch the hip. Watch the hip

Jay: yeah yeah yeah.

Celia: so do we get the the island. The limos?

Evie: no. They’re all the the school garages until next week.

Celia: then we’re screwed?

Mal: not entirely

Jaylos and Evie: THE BIKES

Celia: what?

Mal: how I left last year

(At the cliff site. The six of them are on their bikes. Celia’s hanging on to Gil)

Carlos: go on mom

Mal (voice still croaky): noble steed proud and fair/you shall take us anywhere

(They drive over the magic bridge to the island. Back in Auradon Chadeficent is making their way to Jane’s birthday party)

Chadeficent (Maleficent’s voice): are you sure this shall work? (Chad’s voice) it had better. They all deserve it for hating me

[xyliane]

life and death and love and

summary: yusuke and botan have a conversation about immortality. because neither of them are good at decorum, they have it over kuwabara’s grave. kuwabara wouldn’t care. probably.

notes: hello yu yu hakusho, my first fandom, my forever love, home to my favorite shonen protagonist and favorite mentor in anything. @wuzzyletoastermac is a terrible influence. gen, looooong post-series, discussions of death. yusuke and botan brotp, 1800 words

----

Yusuke stops aging at some point. Or stops aging visibly at least—he never looks as dignified and ageless as Kurama, or as young and pissy as Hiei, instead wavering between too young to drink and too old to not know better. But eventually, Kuwabara looks at him, dressed in old jeans that shouldn’t be as flexible as they are, then back to himself with salt streaks in his red hair, and says, “Shit, Urameshi, you stay young and you still don’t look as good as me.”

Then there’s a time when someone mistakes him for Keiko’s grandson and she still hasn’t stopped giving him shit for it. Decades dead, and Botan is still popping by with messages: Yusuke do you still have a thing for older women? Is that your big secret?

It is her fault, too, ripping into his ear for not showing up for her birthday party just because Demon World had been a little preoccupied with an influx of stupid in the form of militant invaders from another dimension, like a video game gone terribly bad. She’s eighty-one. She’s had eighty-one birthdays, she’d have eighty-one more if Yusuke has anything to say about it.

Needless to say, she doesn’t. If there’s one thing Yusuke’s learned in his impossible life, it’s that people die, and most of the time, they stay dead. Him and Kurama, he’s still not sure if they’re the lucky ones, or the ones that got scammed.

(Yusuke makes sure Botan gives Keiko a deathday card every year, now. He’s sure it makes her laugh, and if she ever wants to be reborn, Yusuke is sure he’ll keep sending them. Birthdays, deathdays—they’ll become unwieldy after a while, but he’s got a long time to worry about that.)

(For now, she stays dead and nags him from beyond the grave, beyond worlds. Yusuke can’t believe he loves her.)

Demons have an odd view of their own mortality, or lack of it. Yusuke first realizes this with Raizen, who for all his centuries is still fixated on years that soar by like fireworks, bright and brilliant and gone in a flash. Moments that shape his life, ignorant of the decades and centuries that lie between. Yusuke, still a baby in comparison if not in strength, can’t help but feel the years slipping through his fingers, each one staying in his memory even as some things begin to blur. It’s scary in a way he’s not used to, something he can’t fight against and isn’t sure he wants to.

“What’s it like to, you know. Live forever?” he asks Botan, offering her a smoke over Kuwabara’s grave. It’s been a few years now, and the dipshit is still insisting on haunting Yusuke’s thoughts. Absolutely unfair, really—it’s not like they don’t see each other, not with Koenma blatantly ignoring Yusuke’s irregular stints of breaking and entering Spirit World unless the brat needs something.

One day, Yusuke will admit he does it because he misses them, Kuwabara and Keiko and even the old hag. For now, he still looks young enough that a little B&E is excusable as a weird sort of early-demonhood rebellion.  

Botan crinkles her nose at the stench of burning nicotine. She’s perched on Kuwabara’s gravestone like it’s a posh throne, absolutely no care to deference of the graveyard or the cat toys half-buried in front of the grave. Maybe Yusuke’s finally rubbed off on her, but more likely she’s more comfortable in a graveyard than anywhere else in the human world. Someone smarter would have something to say about the boundaries between life and death, but Yusuke’s not that sort of person. “I’d think Kurama would be a better advisor on this subject,” she says delicately.

“Kurama’s in the same boat as me. We don’t die, but we already did, and who knows, maybe I’ll go three for three one of these days. I’ve pissed off enough people.” Yusuke takes another pull, smoke wafting in front of his nose. “Besides, I tried asking him already. He just gave me that annoyingly smug smile he gets when he doesn’t know the answer and told me to give it time.”

Botan giggles. “That does sound like Kurama.”

“Look, I asked other people too,” Yusuke huffs, counting on his fingers everyone he’s tried. “Enki and Kokou were too busy planning the next tournament, and I don’t think they really understood the question anyways, since we can die if we get punched hard enough. Hokushin and the monks went all zen guru on me again. Yukina practically gave me a dissertation on the power of life and made me babysit her twins again—one of them has Kuwabara’s hair and Hiei’s personality, and it makes my head hurt. The angry gremlin himself just did his grr I am angry piss off thing he does when he's not sure what to say. And I tried asking Jin and Chu, but they don’t seem to understand the idea of mortality at all. Fucking fight-happy dumbasses.”

It’s a sign of their decades of friendship that Botan restrains herself from more comment than, “They are the fight-happy dumbasses.”

Yusuke flips her off with his free hand. “So I’m asking you. If anyone knows what living forever’s like, it’s a shinigami, right?”

She laughs, bell-like. “I suppose I can see your point.”

And then it’s quiet again, birds chirping and leaves rustling. For all that Yusuke’s stopped aging, Botan never has. She’s always looked as old as she needed to, not so much like Koenma’s drastic physical change but just…fitting in. Never too old to be a kid’s friend, never too young to be an elder’s confidant. It might be magic, but Yusuke’s pretty sure it’s just Botan.

Yusuke finishes his cigarette and stabs it out on the dirt in front of Kuwabara’s epitaph. “So?” he demands.

“Hush you, I’m thinking.” She props her chin up on her hand, elbow on her knee and foot on the tombstone, like some perky gargoyle.

“If this is you thinking, maybe I don’t want to live forever. It’s like watching a loading screen.”

“Some of us actually use our brains on occasion,” she says. A strand of blue hair falls out of her ponytail, wafting on the breeze. She twists it around her finger.

“I’m more of a concept than a person, you know?” she says. “Death. Shinigami. Yamaduta. Grim reapers. We exist as we do because people think us that way, part of the wheel of life and death. We keep the cycle moving. Don’t want it getting clogged up, after all.”

Yusuke snorts. “So I…thought of death as a hyperactive blue haired girl? Puu aside, that does not sound like me. Definitely not fourteen-year-old me. I was a shithead.”

She laughs. “No, no. Nothing so personal as that. Many people prefer the concept of death as a terror, anyways, something to be feared and hidden. But we…I will live forever because death will always exist, and people remember that it exists. And if people believe death to be manifest, well. Someone has to do the job.”

“It definitely won’t be Koenma.” The thought of toddler-sized Koenma attempting to corral lost souls into the Spirit World is almost enough to cackle at.

“And I certainly don’t want his job. Or Jorge’s, for that matter. All of that paperwork.” She makes a face, nose scrunched and tongue out. “But I will live forever, because there are people to believe in me, and because there is a system that needs me. I’m an extension of more than just my thoughts.”

She hops off the tombstone, narrowly avoiding a kitten plushie an angry red-headed boy had placed there not too long ago. (Yusuke is, of course, sworn to absolute secrecy over this, but he doesn’t mind. He held Hiei’s secret long enough, holding onto Kuwabara’s spawn’s is actual child’s play. And if the kid’s anything like Hiei or Kuwabara, the blackmail potential will be endless.)

“So what does that make me?” Yusuke asks, neck cracking as he looks up at Botan. “I’m not ferrying anyone across any rivers anytime soon, not even if Koenma tries to hire me again. That’s a shit gig.”

Like he’s fourteen and stupid, rather than decades and aware of his stupid, Botan bops him on the nose. “It makes you who you are, Yusuke. And remember, you’re as immortal as I am, in your own way. As Keiko is, or Kuwabara, or Kurama or Hiei or the rest of your ‘fight-happy dumbasses.’ As anyone you love, and loves you.”

He considers this for a moment, turning the thought over. “You know Botan,” Yusuke says slowly. “You’re pretty smart. But you’re also full of shit.”

She laughs again and ruffles his slicked-back hair. He throws his arms over his head, attempting and failing to protect himself. Being a questionably immortal demon with nearly infinite power means keeping up appearances, especially since most of the demons he knows have never heard of the concept of hair gel and can get away with it on a mixture of spite, sarcasm, and whatever’s in the air in Demon World. “Botan!” he protests, feeling as bratty as he sounds.

Satisfied with her work, Botan leans back and summons her oar, hopping onto it in midair. “I love you too, Yusuke. And if I live forever, so will you, even after you do something stupid to get yourself killed again and Koenma makes me drag you kicking and screaming across the river.”

He leans back, propping himself up on his hands and crossing his legs. “Take your time, I guess,” he says.

She hovers there for a moment, obviously waiting for something. “Do you want a ride back?” she asks. She doesn’t specify where back is supposed to be: back to Demon World, back to his old home, back somewhere he never quite fit in but damn if he didn’t try.

Yusuke pulls himself to his feet, dusting off his jeans and pulling a comb out of his jacket. “Nah. I’ve got a family visit this afternoon. Gonna check in on the twerps, see how they’re doing.” He tosses the rest of his cigarettes onto Kuwabara’s grave, where they scatter over the plushie and the cat toys. He’s almost tempted to light them on fire, just to be ornery. He’s a moderately-sized scary demon from hell—youthful appearances and doting grandkids aside. “Tell Keiko I say…Well, you know. I love her, I miss her, all that. Kuwabara too.”

“Of course.” And she’s gone, off into the sky in a dash of blue hair and grins, her kimono manifesting halfway into the scattered clouds. It’s a nice day, sunny and bright despite the early spring chill. Kuwabara would’ve loved it, the old romantic.

Not Keiko, though. She preferred summer storms.

Yusuke sighs and jams his hands into his pockets, nose tilted to the sky. Maybe he is getting old, if he’s thinking about stuff like this. Well, there are worse things.

[writingismyhappytime]

Good Little Witch (Part 10)

Angelo Parente x reader ​​​warnings: language, smut, extreme violence and torture, magic, mention of human trafficking

You giggle, rolling onto your back, your lips meeting Angelo’s again and again. He’s grinning down at you devilishly, his dark eyes glowing with mischief.

He’s also ticklish.

Your nails rake his side, causing a reluctant gasp to leave his lips as you deploy secret tactics.

“(Y/N) —.”

“Down with the demon!” you giggle, furiously running your fingers up his ribs until he’s falling over in defeat, you rolling over him triumphantly. “Say uncle!”

“I never give in!”

“Say it!”

“No!” He sounds breathless, you know he’s going to break. You peck his lips, feeling him start to curl up, still refusing to ask for mercy.

He’s so stubborn.

You finally relent, your hands now pressing against his shoulders instead, not wanting to torture him too long, you’re not evil after all. You grin down at him, your red hair falling over your shoulders and curtaining your face.

Angelo smiles slightly, his hand rising to cup one side of your face, his chest moving heavily beneath you where you straddle his waist shamelessly.

“You’re evil, you know that.”

“Says the big badass demon.”

He chuckles, tugging on your hair so you’re leaning down, letting him kiss you, lips melding warmly against your own. You kiss him back, your tongue parting his lips. You ignore the swell of heat in your chest as you kiss him, pretending it’s not there at all.

You’re kind of worried at what it means.

You’ve never had someone spend time with you like this, take you shopping, on vacation. Of course, your relationship didn’t start like this, you’d been strangers, a means to an end for each other.

You’re not sure when it changed, but you’re glad it did.

He means a lot to you, and now… well, now you’re pretty sure you’d kill someone for him. Over him, you mean. Like if they attacked him and meant him harm, you would protect him. Yes, much better phrasing.

You know without a doubt he’d do the same for you as well.

He might not think it, but you know he cares for you; you can sense it, weirdly enough, which of course you assume is the blood. Everything always has to do with the blood; one part of you wonders if the reason you care for each other is the blood, not true affection, but you suppose in the long run it doesn’t matter, because it feels real.

Your lips suddenly hesitate against his, and you sit up, frowning. Angelo hesitates, watching your brows furrow.

“What is it?” he asks, his eyes running down your slender body, over the curls of hair covering your breasts from his sight.

“I care about you,” you say bluntly, immediately drawing his eyes to your face. You feel him tense beneath you, his hands now hovering, as if he doesn’t know where to touch you or if he even should. “I don’t know why, you’re a demonic prick with an ego much bigger then your dick. I’m thinking it’s because of the blood we shared, y'know?”

You run your fingers through your hair thoughtfully, unsure why you suddenly felt the need to admit all of this. “I mean, do you feel it? Is it just me?”

Your eyes meet his.

Angelo is completely still, his black eyes actually panicked as he looks into yours. His lips part, but words are beyond him at the moment. It’s like you can feel his heart hammering in his chest, see the way he’s floundering for a response.

You try to crush the disparaging disappointment at his silence, at the fact he doesn’t say anything. So it’s just you then? He doesn’t feel it? Did you mess up somewhere, garner some kind of feelings that don’t make sense?

Angelo doesn’t know what to say. All he can do is stare up into your eyes, feel your disappointment as his own. You want him to say something, you expect it of him, but he’s completely out of his comfort zone. He doesn’t care about anyone, he never has, and yet…

Oh, fuck. Who is he kidding?

“I would kill for you,” he finally says, drawing your lowered eyes back to his. He sits up slowly, forcing you to lean back, your hands coming to rest on his inked shoulders. “I will destroy entire cities if you want me too, if it ever comes to it to keep you safe.”

“Really?” You quirk a disbelieving brow at him, wondering if he’s just trying to dispel the awkwardness of the situation; you’d just admitted your unwelcome feelings into the business arrangement — although, admittedly, sleeping together hadn’t been part of the deal, it had just sort of happened, so you suppose the two of you had crossed some lines at some point.

Plus, well, you’d tortured people together, and murdered them, and, well, there had been that other time with the werewolf and the jackhammer —.

“Yes.” Angelo brushes your red curls from your face, his own growing serious. “And no, I don’t believe it’s the blood, Red.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re different then any other creature I’ve ever met.” he finally says, the words starting to come out, and he ignores the sense of relief he feels at finally being able to say them, to put his confused feelings into words. He’d been mulling over how he’s felt about you for a while, especially with the comments from Horror and Christopher nagging at the back of his mind.

No, he’s never brought anyone to his island before, he’s never treated a pet or a business associate the way he does you. He’s never taken his pets shopping, or introduced them to his brothers other then to share them.

You’ve weaseled your way into his life so permanently he can’t imagine the future without you. Even Horror seems fond of you, and that little vermin is usually too self-absorbed to notice anyone else.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a demon, the spawn of a human woman and the devil’s helpers. I am unable to love, all of my kind is. I may have brothers, but I do not care for them, I take care of them because they are my blood.” He keeps brushing at your hair, too nervous to hold still. “But it’s…. different with you. You… aren’t afraid of me.”

“Why would I be? You’re not as big of a badass as you think you are.” You tell him, earning a reluctant chuckle.

“So you have proven. You don’t fear me, little witch, you accept me and all of my demonic ways — including feeding on the pain of humans, of torturing them, dismembering them for my own enjoyment. I was most impressed when you joined me in dealing with that Mikaelson.”

Eh, you don’t like the memory, but you feel a sense of justice about it. “He deserved that and much worse for what we did to him, Angelo.”

“I’m aware, Red. I’m aware. I will do that to every Mikaelson I meet for the rest of eternity if it pleases you,” Angelo says, unaware of how devoted his voice sounds. You quirk a brow, but don’t comment on his tone. “I will do whatever you wish of me, if it pleases you.”

“You sound like you’re a little attached, Mr. Parente.”

“What can I say, I like red heads.”

Your cheeks heat, and you just look at him a few moments, tilting your head.

“So… so you really… when this is all over —?”

“When it’s all over and I’ve hunted down every member of the Mikaelson family and choked them with their own organs, I want you to stay with me.” He tells your firmly, running his hands up and down your arms. “I want you to stay in my dank ass castle, for it to be your home, if you wish it.”

“So basically you’re asking me to move in with you?” You try to fight the growing smile on your lips. “Like permanently?”

“Or until one of us kills the other, yes.”

You giggle, and lean forward, mashing your lips eagerly against his. You’re unaware of how the heat in your chest is mirrored in Angelo’s, how it feels all consuming, making his chilled body feel warm for the first time since he was a human.

You make him warm where he has always seemed so cold.

And he loves you for it.

You press on his shoulders, pushing him onto his back again, kissing him fervently, wanting to let him feel how much you care about him. You want to prove it to him, you feel like you have too.

Angelo’s hands close around your waist, and he rolls, pressing you down into the soft, cool sheets of his custom-made bed. He doesn’t want to stop touching you, he wants to make love to you for the rest of the night, for the rest of the day — for eternity if he can. He doesn’t know what he’ll do without you spicing up his life now, and he doesn’t want to find out.

You know Angelo better then any other creature on the earth, including his brothers. You know how he feels about his father, his human father — how much he’d hated becoming a demon, how awful it must have been for him when he realized he could only survive if he caused enough pain to others.

He might be cruel, but the world had made him that way — you don’t care. The world is a bad place, it can burn for all you care, neither of you had deserved the lot in life you’d been given. You hadn’t asked to be a blood witch, to be held in captivity by the Mikaelsons — none of the women in your family had asked for it, had deserved it.

Neither had Angelo.

And his father is a complete asshole, for that matter, so that obviously hadn’t made it any easier on the second born son, either.

But, well, maybe together… maybe together the two of you can create your own little niche of happiness — you deserve that much, you believe. This is the first time in your entire life where you’ve been ridiculously content, almost happy, although you’re afraid to admit it, afraid you’ll jinx it for yourself.

Sure, caring so deeply for a demon might sound kind of bad to, well, normal people. And a demon being fond of a blood witch is certainly a death sentence in most circles.

But Angelo is strong, impervious to everything, and he doesn’t give a fuck about what anyone else thinks, he can crush them if they so much as look at him.

You have each other, don’t you?

And what else do you need?

~~~~~~~

Angelo is so sleepy, his eyes are already closed. His body is curled up tightly behind yours, and the faint press of his lips against your bare shoulder is the only clue you have to him still being awake. You can tell he’s fighting the force of the sun, despite you know it’s already up.

“Sleep, Ang,” you mumble, your arm over his where it curls around your waist above the white, soft sheets.

“I’d rather be… awake,” he yawns, snuggling closer to you. “My dreams… aren’t… com…para….”

You chuckle, your eyes already closed as you listen to him try to finish, his words slurring. You know demons are weakest in the day, but he’s doing an admirable job of fighting the light. He mutters something else you can’t understand, his lips pressing against your shoulder once more but not moving.

There he goes.

Sleepy Angelo.

The big bad demon.

You curl your legs up against you, sighing contentedly as you let yourself drift off.

Oh how you love moments like this with him.

~~~~~~~

Christopher hates you.

He’s practically bubbling with rage, it’s all he can do to contain it, to not lash out immediately. He stares at the text on his phone, the screen starting to crack around the edges as he squeezes it. His sharp teeth grind together, and he slowly stands, exercising all his control.

Angelo took you to his island? The one place he’s always held sacred as his own, the only place none of his brothers are welcome? Christopher knows the location, as he’s the eldest, but none of the others do. Angelo has always coveted the place.

It’s like a smack in the face.

Angelo is in love with you, there’s no other explanation for it. He’s become your slave without even knowing it, he’s practically showing you all his secrets, putting his weaknesses on display. You would be the death of him.

Christopher won’t allow it.

He keeps warning Angelo, but the fool never listens. Every supernatural being agrees the existence of a blood witch is too dangerous, that they should be dealt with at birth. The world knows you live, and they know who you’re with. Christopher knows without a doubt that they’ll start coming after his younger brother if you’re not gone soon.

He won’t let Angelo die because of some damned blood.

The only way to save his stupid brother is to get rid of you, of which Christopher has no issue. Angelo would hate him for the betrayal, of course, but in time, when your influence is no more, he would see it was the right decision.

Christopher gives it a moment, mulling the decision over. He’s always taken care of his brothers, he is known as the head of the family, after all. His father may think it is him, but when it comes to business, the supernaturals of the world go to the eldest son.

Christopher has always taken things into his own hands, as he is going to have to do with this situation.

Angelo will just have to understand. When your blood is no longer in his system, he’ll see the entire reason he fancied you so was because of that, because of your magic. He could find himself another witch and get the same sexual rush if he wants.

Christopher inhales deeply, holding it a moment, his hazel eyes gazing around his office.

He’s never betrayed a brother, but he doesn’t consider this a treachery.

He exhales as he begins scrolling through his phone, his mind absolutely made up. He will do what must be done to protect his family, just like he always has.

Now to call the Mikaelsons.

~~~~~~

Angelo is having a hard time waking up. He finds it odd, he knows the sun is down, that’s it’s rose and fell several times, but he’s still lost in the dreamworld.

But it’s not right.

He’s been seeing the signs more and more, his dreams becoming too blurred, without detail. He’s no fool, and after realizing what is happening, it only takes him a second to wake up, his black eyes opening.

You’re gone.

It’s the first detail he notices about the room, you’re no longer beside him. His body aches, like it hasn’t moved in several days as he slowly sits up. He’s stiff, and he raises a hand to his shoulders, still able to trace the scratch marks you’ve left on him.

He hasn’t healed.

“Red?” he calls, finding his voice scratchy. He clears his throat, his brows furrowing when you don’t respond. He gives it a moment, then tosses the sheets off of him, rising to unsteady legs.

What’s wrong with him?

He staggers a few steps, nearly collapsing onto his knees, his body weak after being still for so long. His fingers dig into the white carpet, his brain feeling muddled and limbs heavy.

Christopher.

That’s the only explanation for the lethargy!

Where are you!?

What has he done!?

Angelo raises his head, gnashing his teeth as he forces himself to stand. He quickly drags clothing from his closet, dressing himself hastily, hardly caring if he looked decent or not. He refuses to give in to his brothers influence, although he can’t stop from yawning as he leaves the room.

All his hellhounds are sitting in place, unmoving, dotted around the entire building. Angelo doesn’t bother searching for you, he can sense you’re nowhere near. Christopher is the only one with enough power to cause even Angelo to sleep, and his blood makes it possible for him to control the hounds.

And he’s the only other creature in existence that knows of the island.

Angelo will kill him if he’s done anything to you!

He doesn’t wait, he just strides for the portal door on the beach, his hellhounds all falling into step behind him when he snaps his fingers.

His chest hurts. He’s worried about you, it’s immediate and strong, and all he can wonder is what Christopher has done with you.

You’re not dead, not yet, Angelo can sense it. But are you hurt? Did Christopher take you for a reason?

What has his brother done!?

Where are you!?

Angelo storms towards the edge of the cliff, and in one step launches himself forward; he’s not going to waste time by taking the long way around. He lands hard, sand exploding into the air and immediately clinging to his clothes.

He has to find you.

The portal door for the island is actually an entrance in the cliff, just a blank wall of rocks to the human eye. It’s contained by the symbols scratched into a half circle, forming the outline for the door. It’s black and purple swirls look angry, lashing like lightning into the sand.

Angelo will rip Christopher’s head off.

The portal opens easily for him, guiding him exactly where he needs to go, he only has to wait a few seconds.

He glowers at the door appearing in front of him, and in one harsh kick has it flying open so hard it tears from the hinges. He doesn’t wait for it to hit the ground before he’s storming into his elder brothers study, black eyes boiling with rage.

“Where is she?” he bellows, his voice echoing throughout the room.

Christopher half turns, a look of disinterest on his face, whilst their younger brother goes tense, his eyes going huge.

“Who?” Christopher asks dryly, looking at Angelo curiously.

He shouldn’t be awake yet.

Christopher had made sure to give Angelo and you both enough influence where you’d be out for a week, not just three days. He suppose he shouldn’t be surprised his brother is awake, he’s a powerful demon, but it is displeasing.

“Where’s my witch?” Angelo snarls, taking a threatening step forward, his fists clenched. “I know you fucking took her from me, Christopher, and so fucking help me if you don’t give her back —.”

“You’ll what?” Christopher demands, closing the book in his hands sharply, his darkly lined eyes narrowing as he turns to face his brother.

“I’ll fucking tear your heart out through your neck.” Angelo spits, not about to back down. He won’t let it go, not until he finds you, not until he can see you’re okay. He’ll never forgive Christopher for this, not ever. Normally he would never threaten his elder brother, but he’d gone too far!

Their youngest brother, barely twenty in human years, is standing beside Christophers desk, his eyes huge as he looks between the two of them. He’s new to the family, he’s only been a demon four years and as their father is useless, Christopher has been looking after him. He’s still young, not in control of his powers yet, and he’ll need a lot of training.

He’s absolutely terrified of Angelo, he has been since he met him. He’d only witnessed Angelo’s powers once, but their other brother, Ghost, had quickly put him down. Angelo had threatened Ghost’s lover, and he’d nearly died for it.

Still, Vinny wouldn’t cross him, he knows he’d be eliminated.

He’s not stupid.

But he also has no idea what’s going on.

Why is Angelo threatening Christopher?

What did the big brother do?

“I don’t see why.” Christopher sounds irritated as he tosses his book down, the thud so hard Vinny winces. “She’s just a witch.”

“She’s my witch,” Angelo hisses; at least his brother didn’t deny he took you. “Now where the fuck is she?”

“Somewhere she won’t trouble you anymore,” Christopher crosses his arms, scowling. “Don’t you see what she’s doing to you?”

“She’s not doing anything!”

“She’s got you under her control, Angelo! You’ve taken her blood!”

“She’s not controlling me! She wouldn’t do that!”

“Since when are you so trusting?” Christopher hisses, frowning when Angelo stiffens, his eyes pure black as he stands off with his older brother. Angelo has never downright threatened Christopher before, he’s never stood up to him.

It’s new, Christopher doesn’t like it. Your influence must be strong. Even now, your blood should already be burned out of Angelo’s body. Why is he so upset?

“How much of her blood have you taken, Angelo? Her control over you is very strong, you’re acting like a pathetic fool,” Christopher sneers, crossing his black-clad arms. He draws himself to his full height, looming over his shorter brother, reading his brooding, boiling thoughts.

Well this isn’t right.

Christopher can’t sense your blood at all.

“I want her back, and I want her back NOW.” Angelo says, his voice cold. His fists are clenched at his side, sharp nails digging into tender skin. He’s completely still, and he’s so angry. He doubts he’s ever been so enraged in his existence, especially not at one of his brothers. Normally they shared everything, from pets to wealth, but this is different.

You’re not a pet, you’re not something to be shared.

You’re Angelo’s, you’re his witch, his woman.

He’ll kill over you.

“You’re in love with her,” Christopher realizes, his eyes widening. He kept assuming Angelo’s fancy was due to your blood, your magic. But there’s none of that left on Angelo’s skin nor in his body. The only other explanation for his ridiculous rampaging is —.

Disgusting.

“You foolish fuck,” Christopher recoils, seeing the stunned look on Angelo’s face. “You seriously gave your human heart to the one creature that has to die? She cannot exist, Angelo, she threatens us all!”

“(Y/N) isn’t doing anything wrong!” Angelo defends you instantly, shaking his head, his black hair brushing his eyes. “She just wants to be left alone, she didn’t choose to be a blood witch! She just wants to be free, you’re the ones who won’t let her! You’re the only one who knew the location of the island, Christopher, and you fucking put us both to sleep so you could take her from me, didn’t you!?”

“I did it for your own good! She’s going to be the death of you!” Christopher swipes his hand in front of him, knocking the furiously thrown book out of the air. “You’ll die if you keep chasing after her!”

“I wouldn’t have to chase her if you wouldn’t take her from me! Where is she?” Angelo bellowed, losing his temper. His eyes are starting to glow, the blackness starting to seep out into his skin, crawling from the corners of his eyes. “Where’s my witch!?”

“You can’t have her, Angelo. She’s not yours. She’s going to be dead soon, and I won’t let you spend your existence protecting her from every creature in the world!”

“That’s not your decision to make! No one would dare come after her if she’s with me!” Angelo’s words are a mere hiss.

“How many times have you been proven wrong, Angelo? She’s not safe anywhere, not even with you! She has to die!”

“No she doesn’t! I won’t let her!”

“You don’t have a choice!”

Angelo growls, and he finally understands what Ghost must have felt those few years ago when he had threatened Serena.

This anger, it’s in his gut, his chest — his entire body is shaking with it. He can’t help it, he can’t control it, and it’s eating away at his mind, making everything darken for him. He wants you, he wants you safe, and if he has to kill every single brother he has to find you, he will.

He’ll kill anyone.

Blood doesn’t matter anymore.

Nothing does.

He just has to find you.

“Did you give her to the Mikaelsons?” Angelo asks softly, the blackness swirling down his cheeks, making Christopher tense, his entire body going taut.

Angelo didn’t inherit any known abilities, not like telepathy, or telekinesis or anything like that. Whatever darkness is inside the second born son, whatever secret ability Angelo has buried inside his demonic energy, it’s not something Christopher wants to experience again.

He saw it only once, on an island many centuries ago. The entire island had been destroyed, the people turned to living statues or ash, completely obliterated. Many had blamed the volcano, but Angelo had even destroyed that.

It’s why everyone just generally ignores him and his temperaments, they don’t try to stop him when he goes on murdering sprees. No one wants to face the mysterious power that literally destroyed thousands of lives.

And Christopher doesn’t want to have to go through the trouble of having another house built because Angelo destroyed it again.

He huffs, crossing his arms belligerently.

Such bullshit.

“Yes, the Mikaelsons have her,” he sounds impatient even to himself. “I gave her to them this morning. She won’t wake up for a few days, though, and they won’t kill her until they’ve gotten their little vengeance out, I assume.”

Angelo is immediately horrified, his entire body turning cold. He can feel his stomach dropping in worry. There’s no telling what those bastards will to do you, especially when you can’t defend yourself.

He needs to get to you quickly!

He knows their compound, he remembers the plans you drew out for him. Even with his hellhounds he won’t be able to scour the entire thing before they possibly kill you, he’s going to need assistance. He can’t very well just burn it to the ground if he doesn’t know where you are, he doesn’t want to hurt you.

“Don’t expect me to offer assistance, Angelo.” Christopher says, his voice frigid now; he wants the best for his brothers, they’re his blood after all. But he won’t keep leading the horse to water if the horse is too fucking stupid to stay away from the burning forest on his own.

If Angelo wants you so badly as to risk death, then so be it. The death of another brother won’t be that painful, it’s not like their father can’t just give them another one. Angelo fell down the rabbit hole, and apparently he doesn’t want to climb his way out.

“I will never ask you for anything,” Angelo says flatly, the blackness receding from his eyes as he looks at Christopher. “I will never forgive you.”

“So you say. When you want something, you’ll come crawling back,” Christopher scoffs, shaking his dark head as he turns away. “That’s all you lot ever do.”

No.

Angelo disagrees.

This is a betrayal he will not get over. He killed Mike and Thomas for betraying him, for selling him out to a older demon at the time. It was after that he’d decided he wouldn’t trust his brothers as far as he could throw them. Everyone made it sound like he just outright murdered them, but that wasn’t the case back then. They’d betrayed him, set him up to die — he should have tortured them beforehand.

Now Christopher.

But, that’s life for you. Live long enough, and you’ll see someone you trust the most betray you.

Now he’s making Christopher feel guilty.

“How long have they had her?” Angelo asks, already moving towards the portal door. He needs to get home, he has to make a strategy.

“A few hours. They won’t hurt her until she’s awake, so you have a few more days. At least, I figure not. It depends on how much they want her to know she’s going to die.”

Lovely.

Angelo grits his teeth, and he doesn’t bother to look back as he steps through the portal, the black and violet swirls swallowing him instantly.

Vinny waits a few beats, then, “What the hell was that over, dude?”

Christopher sighs; he’s yet to break his younger brother from speaking so… like that. Perhaps one day…

“Nothing that concerns you, Vincent. Now, let’s return to your studies.”

Vinny groans.

~~~~~

Angelo paces his study nervously. He doesn’t know what to do! How is he supposed to get to you? Where would they take you first? What part of the compound?

He assumes a dungeon, and no doubt they’d put the anti-magic cuffs on you already. You aren’t dead, and so far you aren’t in pain, at least not that Angelo can sense anyway.

“So what’s your plan then?” Horror demands, crossing his arm as he stands by the desk, watching his brother pace back and forth. “We ride in on white horses and torch the place? Take all their women and wealth?”

“All the women are related to (Y/N),” Angelo sends him a disgruntled look. “Don’t get any ideas. I figure they would have taken her here first,” he motions at the layout of the compound you’d drawn him. “It’s underground, beneath the head of security’s cottage. There’s several entrances, apparently, so I figure if I can get to the compound, I can use my senses to find her.”

“What if she’s not on the compound?”

“Then I’m going to torture everyone there until I find her.” Angelo is resolute.

He has to find you.

“Sounds like fun,” Horror is a little excited. “So we get to kill everyone?”

“Yup. But if they’re women, they belong to (Y/N). And I want her father.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to kill him and let him know why.”

“Huh, alright. But do you think the two of us can really take a compound of this magnitude? I know we’re badass demons, but these humans, some of them are older then me,” Horror shifts uncomfortably. “They’re going to know you’ll come for her.”

“I don’t know. Christopher might have convinced them I wouldn’t,” Angelo runs his hand along his stubbled jaw. “But you’re right, this is a lot of ground to cover. I would do it myself, but I worry that they’ll kill her as soon as I start in on them.”

Angelo worried? Horror blinks.

He’s never heard that word before, not from his brothers mouth.

“Christopher will not help me,” Angelo mutters, thinking. “Joshua and Ryan, I haven’t heard from them in decades. Vinny is too young, he’d just get himself killed, and that would be embarrassing for the family.”

“That leaves Ghost.” Horror offers, knowing what reaction he’ll get.

“No!” the older demons voice is sharp.

“Angelo, come on. Ghost might seriously help you if you explain the situation. Otherwise, we can do this on our own, but it stands a greater chance of her dying. She’s still a human, if her neck snaps she won’t come back like we do.” Horror tries his best to say it in not an asshole-ish way. He tries very hard. “So, yknow, go beg him for help or something.”

“I would never lower myself like that,” Angelo recoils instantly. “He tried to kill me!”

“You tried to kill Serena. How would you react?” Horror asks mildly.

“I would have killed him.”

“Exactly! So don’t be a dumbass, Angelo! We’re going to need his help! If we attack this compound, two of us can create enough chaos where you can probably slip through unnoticed. You can search for her while me and Devin basically blow shit up and keep their attention on us.” Horror’s pretty confident that’s a solid plan. “I mean, what could go wrong there?”

“I feel like you’re overlooking a lot of details.”

“Nah. It’ll be fine. Do you want her back or not?”

Yes.

Angelo doesn’t have to hesitate.

But he hasn’t seen his brother since he tried to take away his pet. Angelo didn’t care much for humans, and other then having them as pets, he sees no use for them. He hadn’t understood why his younger brother was so fascinated with a simple human woman, and he’d wanted a taste for himself.

Ghost had nearly killed him for it.

But now Angelo understands.

He won’t beg Ghost, but… he’ll ask.

“Is Ghost still in China with the pet?” Angelo finally asks, seeing Horror grin slightly.

“Yes. Serena wanted to go back, she apparently likes the cuisine.”

Stupid little human, she had rocks for brains, Angelo is sure of it.

“I’ll find him then. You get the hellhounds ready for attack. All of them.”

“Alright.”

Horror watches Angelo leave, pleased.

Really, he wanted Angelo and Ghost to make up. He was sure if they were on decent terms, then eventually Ghost would return to work, which meant Horror wouldn’t have to do it all. Ghost is better at the drug business anyway, Horror doesn’t have the patience for it.

He’s thinking about going in to the restaurant business instead, seems more profitable and laid back. Buy a bunch of successful restaurant chains and then let the money roll in! Ghost can handle the drug aspect again.

Good plan.

~~~~~~~

Angelo hates China, he always has. He grimaces the second he steps out into the street, much taller then most of the people around him. He narrows his eyes, glancing around the crowded market place, red and gold decorations bothering his eyes. The foreign language irritates his hearing, he’d never been quite able to grasp Chinese, although he’s decently fluent.

He hates the food as well, he can’t stand the scent of it.

Where the fuck is his younger brother?

It’s a long shot asking Ghost for help, but your life is worth it.

Angelo doesn’t want to stay in China any longer then necessary.

His gaze scours the market, and finally he spots the blonde human woman his brother so favors. She looks ridiculous, yapping quickly to what looks like one of the hellhounds.  Probably the reject one Ghost let her keep.

Well, Angelo doubts Ghost is letting his precious little whore wander around by herself, so he must be around somewhere.

Hmm.

The older demon glances around curiously, but he doesn’t immediately see his brother in the bustling market.

Frowning, he glides forward, deciding a direct approach would get him quicker.

Plus he’d like to have a whiff of Serenas scent one more time; Angelo misses the sunlight.

His lips start to curve as he nears, especially when the reject hellhound notices him first. He doesn’t immediately move, but it’s obvious he’s gone on guard.

Heh.

This is going to be funny.

Angelo ghosts up behind Serena, grinning from ear to ear as he gazes at her long blonde hair, falling in waves down her back. Her scent hits his nose immediately, warm and sunny, and it’s all he can do not to sink his teeth into her neck again.

But no, he doesn’t care about Serena.

He cares about you.

But it doesn’t mean he can’t have a little fun either.

“Hello… Serena.”

She pauses a moment, and then twists, that dumb expression she always wears on her face. It takes her a moment, but then those doe eyes widen, and her fear is instantaneous.

Should get Ghost to her pretty quickly.

“You —!”

“Yes. Me.” Angelo’s quirks a black brow at her. “Still as intelligent as I remember. Where is Devin?”

Serena takes several steps back, looking ready to make a break for it. Stupid human, she wouldn’t get far, especially not in such a crowd.

And Angelo isn’t in the mood to chase her.

“Angelo!”

“Brother!” Angelo turns at the furious hiss, grinning when he sees Ghost standing beside him, eyes already turning black with anger.

“How dare you —!?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not supposed to be around your human pet, you’ll kill me, blah blah.” Angelo rolls his eyes, waving his hand dismissively. “I don’t care, I’m not here for her.”

Ghost frowns, narrowing his dark eyes, black curls falling around his face. “What do you want?”

Angelo doesn’t miss how Ghost has moved, putting Serena behind him and the hound. The demon is so infatuated with his human pet he’s prepared to kill his own siblings to protect her.

Lovely.

Angelo knows the feeling now.

“I’m here for you,” Angelo says, glancing at his watch impatiently. You don’t have a lot of time before you wake up, he has to hurry.

“And what do you want from me?” Ghost doesn’t look interested. Angelo knows he’s going to have to beg to get any help, but for you… well, he might do it.

“I….” Angelo can’t believe he’s doing this. He never thought he would ever have to speak to Ghost again, his stomach feels sick. The words sour on his tongue, but he needs to ask; your life may very well depend on it.

“There is a woman.” He finally says, resigned. “A witch. I need her back.”

“Back?” Ghost quirks a brow, reluctantly curious. His hand is held tightly by his humans, and people are bustling around them all, barely noticing their presence.

“Yes. She was taken from me and I need her back.”

“Ask Christopher.”

“He’s the one who took her from me and gave her to someone else.” Angelo grinds his teeth, tensing.“He won’t help me.”

“She must be important, for you to come to me.” Ghost says thoughtfully, leaning back on his heels. “Why do you want her?”

“She’s mine.”

“A pet?”

“…. No.” Angelo sounds sullen; he doesn’t want to admit what you are to him. “She’s a partner, we have a contract. So long as it’s ongoing, I have go watch out for her. I have no choice but to retrieve her from her captors.”

“It’s not like you, making contracts with witches.”

“She’s a very special witch.”

Ghost doesn’t respond, calculating. He glances back at his human, then at Angelo. “Why should I help you, Angelo? I care nothing for you, I should just kill you.”

“You’re not going to win this time, brother.” Angelo says softly, and on this he is resolute. If Ghost so much as looks at him wrong, Angelo will rip his head from his shoulders. He has to save you, he doesn’t have time to die.

Ghost frowns. “If I help you, what do I get? I’m no longer doing you favors for free.”

“ I’ll owe you one.”

Ghost hides his surprise. A demon owing a favor is a big deal, especially one such as Angelo. They might be brothers, but Ghost knows it was major step for Angelo to come to him for help.

“Ghost,” Serena sounds nervous, clutching at her demon and standing closely behind him.

“I’ll help you.” Ghost says after a moment, grinning just enough for the lights to reflect off his sharp teeth. “But this favor you owe me, it will be for anything. Whenever and whatever I want.”

“Fine.” Angelo doesn’t care, he just needs help! “But come now.”

Ghost actually hesitates, glancing back at his human before at Angelo. “Now?”

“She doesn’t have much time. Send Gwen Steffani here back with Rudolph the rejected hellhound and let’s go!” Angelo shifts in aggravation. “We don’t have time!”

~~~~~

“Alright, here are the three locations we need to cover.” Angelo says, gesturing around the handmade diagram of the Mikaelsons compound. “I need you and Horror to cover these two openings and distract the humans while I search for the witch.”

Angelo is trying to be careful, to say your name as little as possible. He doesn’t want Ghost to know how fond of you he is, he’s concerned about the consequences. Ghost might seek to make them even, attack you for what his older brother did to his pet. Sure, you would probably tear Ghost in half for it, but Angelo doesn’t want to take the chance.

“What are we up against?” Ghost asks, pressing his palms against the messy desk. Angelo’s dungeon office looks like a hurricane swept through it, papers and books open everywhere, hounds prowling restlessly, their talons clicking against the wooden floor.

“These are the Mikaelsons, the human family that uses witches for immortality.”

“I’ve heard of them, but they’ve never been of consequence before. I thought they could only use the witches of one specific family.”  Ghost says curiously, studying the pictures of the family he would be killing. Angelo has apparently printed out every single mug shot he could find of them, and they litter the side tables; some portraits date back centuries, others are a mere few years old. Ghost has never been interested in the petty family, he finds their clawing for immortality pathetic and amusing. For them to be a threat now is ridiculous, but he supposes they have grown in number, therefore making them a more… challenging enemy.

“True. But (Y/N) is the eldest daughter of the family, and they’re going to kill her for running away from them. If she’s dead, her power goes on to the next sister, of which there are two. Now, I figured initially we could just kill her sisters and then they would have to have her alive.” Angelo rubs his jaw, beady eyes scanning the papers in front of him. “But that’s not going to work. We need to get Red out of there, as quick as possible.”

“Do you think this is going to work?” Horror asks worriedly, gazing down at the plans. “I mean, even with all our hellhounds and the three of us, they’re still an old family. Older then me.”

“You’re a baby, that’s why.” Angelo rolls his eyes, although his stomach is knotting. “And no family can stand against three demons of our family. And I intend to make sure that every single member of that family is no more. I don’t want one single bloodline left.”

“Sounds like this is rather personal, brother.” Ghost snorts. He’s growing more and more curious about this witch, especially the way Angelo and Richard keep discussing you. It’s so fond, and Richard looks genuinely concerned. “Who is this witch? Why is she so important?”

“I told you, she’s —.”

“Don’t lie, Angelo, you know I can tell.”

Angelo frowns. “Are you going to assist me or irritate me?”

“Probably both.”

Wonderful.

Serena is apparently rubbing off on him.

“This is what we’re doing.” Angelo says. “Kill. Everyone. Except the stablemaster, he’s mine. And any women. We don’t know who’s related to the witch, so we can’t hurt them. Not yet anyway.”

“So, kill all the men then? Even the children?”

“Yup. We don’t even want those little buggers getting away, now do we? None of their blood is to survive. Even the ones in the world right now are being hunted down and taken care of. I want to make an example of these humans, actually.” Angelo smirks slightly. “No one messes with my witch.”

~~~~

Ow.

You have the worst headache imaginable!

Of course, that’s probably due to the fact someone punched you.

You shudder, kneeling down on the cold floor of the underground cell system that Marcos has so diligently created beneath his little cottage. There’s water soaking into your jeans, and the anti-magic shackles on your wrists are actually padded, making them the warmest part about you.

You can’t cast any magic, not even blood magic.

You’d woke about an hour ago, finding yourself leaning against a cold stone wall, one you’re familiar with. You’ve spent more then one night in these damp dungeons before when you were younger, and you know there’s no way out of them.

It’s cold, you can’t stop shaking, and you feel as helpless as a human.

You could cry.

But you won’t, you won’t show any fucking weakness to the damned Mikaelsons. And no matter what they say, you know it wasn’t Angelo who gave you up.

You’ll never forget the chilling feeling of waking up there again, of having Marcos standing over you, sneering at you. Your younger sister was curled up in the corner on a pallet of hay, her arms wrapped around her rather rotund stomach where a Mikaelson bastard is growing. It’s her fault you can’t cast any magic, it’s her fault you’re still trapped.

Marcos had laughed at you, knelt and taunted you that your precious demon had given you up, that you’d served your purpose and he didn’t want you anymore. You figure, due to the fact you’d slept full four days, that Christopher had actually been the one to give you up, not Angelo.

That means Angelo would be coming for you, you’re sure of it. He wouldn’t abandon you, he cared for you… didn’t he?

Or had it been a ruse?

No, no it couldn’t have, it hadn’t felt like a ruse, it had felt — real.

So real.

You cut your eyes across the dark room as you hear shuffling, seeing your sister grimacing, pressing a hand against her stomach. Other then maintaining the spell over you that makes it impossible for you to bleed, you can’t imagine what she’s doing in the dungeons with you. If you can’t bleed, you can’t use your blood magic — whoever created that spell, you would absolutely murder when you got out of this damned dungeon!

“Stop looking at me like that.” your sister mutters, glaring at you. You glare right back at her, rather accusingly, your busted lip throbbing.

“This is your fault!” you hiss at her, straining against your shackles. “I could get us both out of here if you hadn’t cast that fucking spell!”

You won’t admit it, but you’re absolutely terrified. You can’t use magic, you can’t defend yourself. You know, after all the frustration and grief you’d caused the Mikaelsons, they’re not going to give you an easy death. You’ll be tortured, you’re sure of it, and every second, you’re waiting for that iron door to open. You’re waiting for Marcos to come back inside, for one of the Mikaelsons.

You’re so afraid, you’ve never been too fond of pain after all, that’s Angelo.

“How is this my fault?” Keera demands, your red haired sister scowling at you; so much for the happy family reunion. “You’re the one who got your own self into this mess!”

“All I did was leave! I don’t want this life, I never did!”

“You should never have left,” she mutters, looking down at her stomach, her face tired. “You started all of this.”

“And what exactly did I start, huh?” You shake your head. “I tried to take you and Aisling with me, didn’t I? You refused!”

“This is our home, why would I leave it?” your sister spits. “Everything was fine before you messed it all up, just like you always do! You should have just done what they wanted of you, and —.”

“You mean let them rape me and use me to give them immortality, whatever else they wished me to do?” You say, anger making your blood boil. “You’re carrying one of their bastards, aren’t you? I can’t imagine it was by choice.”

The look on your sisters face confirms as much.

No, you would have died, they would have beat you to death before you consented to be their bitch. You won’t bow down to them, you don’t like taking anyone’s orders, and you’d be damned even still if you give in to them. You’d left so you wouldn’t end up like your ancestors, and you hadn’t wanted it for your sisters either.

But you can’t save everyone, especially those who don’t want to be saved. You hate what’s happened to your sisters, that’s why you’d wanted the entire Mikaelson family to die, to be eliminated. Angelo was supposed to do that for you, to help you take them out.

You’re not sure if that’s going to happen now.

If you could just get one little drop of blood —-.

“There’s no point in struggling, you won’t get loose.” Kerra finally says, slumping back against the wall. “You’re human, you don’t have magic to help you.”

“Yeah, and that’s your fucking fault.” You growl, straining forward. You can feel the shackles cutting into your skin, slicing the tender flesh open, but there’s no blood rushing forth. It’s annoying as hell, you need to bleed!

Your sister watches you fight against your bonds, not making a sound where she leans against the wet wall. She’s been down here three days now as punishment for saying something out of line, and it’s been as long since she slept. She never asked to be born into the life, but it is one she was given, and rather then fight, she might as well give in.

She cant stop the Mikaelsons, no one can, so might as well accept fate.

She doesn’t want the baby she carried, it had been conceived against her will. But better her then Aisling, maybe she can protect her younger sister from the abuse for as long as possible. She hopes the baby is a boy, one the Mikaelsons will accept, and not a girl to be put through the same torment all the females of her family are to endure.

She hates you for leaving, for abandoning your family when they needed you. She and Aisling had both been young, frightened — they’d just lost their mother, the one who had been protecting them, and then you’d just run off after a few breathless commands to come with you.

They’d been too afraid, they didn’t know any other life.

It had been hell ever since.

The Mikaelsons kept a close eye on them at all times, they were never able to have a peaceful moment. Their father wouldn’t protect them, he just manned the stables, pretending everything is fine, nothing to worry about.

Keera hates him too.

She hates everyone.

She would rather die then continue living, and she hopes the baby at least does that for her. She hopes she doesn’t make it through the birth, carrying the bastard had already been difficult for her, and she’s just… tired.

Even casting magic now is exhausting, and hers has always been feeble in comparison to everyone else’s.

You were always the one meant to take over, not her. You were supposed to please the Mikaelsons, cast their immortality spells and find someone to bare children for. You were the one who was supposed to carry on the line and make sure more females were born so the cycle could continue for ever and ever.

Instead, you ran away.

You left for a decade, and now that you’re back, you’re going to get what you deserve.

Keera hopes the Mikaelsons do to you what they did to her, that you understand what you left your sisters to endure so selfishly.

You grind your teeth in aggravation, straining forward; you can feel the shackles give just the tiniest bit, one of the chains creaking against the bolts in the wall. If you keep pulling, if you just keep trying —.

You go still.

Oh no.

Your eyes are on the iron door as you rise to your feet, narrowing your eyes as you hear footsteps. Your sister looks absolutely petrified, and she’s already pressing herself into the corner, trying to be smaller, invisible.

Great.

You hope Angelo hurries.

The door opens, creaking loudly on its ancient hinges.  You squint, but there’s not exactly a lot of light in your cell, so the man in the doorway is shadowed. You can’t tell who it is, but your fingers are itching to plunge into his eyes, rip them out.

You hate the Mikaelsons, you hate them so strongly you’d like nothing better then to burn their home to the ground with everyone inside.

“Hello, (Y/N).” Ailfrid Mikaelson says from the doorway, a voice you recognize immediately. You tense, but you merely glare, refusing to show fear. No matter what they do to you, you won’t give in to them, you won’t give them any satisfaction.

You’re past that point now.

“Ailfrid.” You say coldly, seeing your sister wince out of the corner of your eye. You were only supposed to address the Mikaelsons as lord or master, but you don’t owe them anything.

His ancient eyes run over you, and it’s like he can see the magic crackling like static on your skin, contained but ready to strike at any moment. You’re so vibrant, even in the darkness of the cell, even from where he stands he can feel your aura.

You’re powerful, and you know it.

The shackles and your sisters feeble spell won’t contain you very long, so your torture will have to be quick.

He’s sure he’ll have you begging for death, he’s going to attend to you personally.

But he needs the books. They were not given when you were, he can only assume the demons still have them. You must know where they are, where he can get them.

He’ll get it out of you.

He walks forward, his shoes splashing through the puddles of dank water. Your chin lifts defiantly as he approaches you. He stops just out of your reach, clasping his wrinkling hands behind his back.

“Are you enjoying your return home?” he asks lightly, your eyes running over his form. To be so old, he doesn’t look it. Some gray hairs here and there, some wrinkles around his eyes — your family’s magic keeps him going.

But not for long.

“I’m going to be the one to kill you,” you say, your voice more confident then you feel. “I’m going to make you watch everything you’ve built burn down. Every single descendant you have is going to burn alive, their flesh is going to peel from their bones and I’m going to make you feed on their hearts!”

“Ooo, I’m shaking. You’re frightening me, truly.” he snorts, and your eyes flick behind him, seeing Marcos lounging in the doorway, smirking at you with crossed arms.

“I don’t believe you’re in any position to be threatening me, little one,” Ailfrid says after a moment, and you twitch as his hand closes around your chin, forcing you to look at him. “But I will give you a choice. Tell me where the spellbooks are, and I will give you a merciful death. Defy me, I will let Marcos and the others have their way with you until you’re begging for mercy. In any way they want. I don’t care if you die, your power will go to your sister, and I’ll just use her.”

“You’re not going to get the books.” You strain against his touch, feeling it tighten. “They’re not yours to have, they don’t belong to you!”

“They belong to my family,” he snaps, losing patience. “They always have. You might use them, but without my influence, none of the spells inside would exist!”

“Bullshit! You’re a fucking parasite!” you hiss, wrenching out of his grasp.

Ailfrid sighs in aggravation. “I think it’s time I tell you how your family came to be connected to mine.”

“I don’t fucking care.”

“There was once a witch,” he says, as if you no longer exist. “Her name was Morgane. She was powerful, a beautiful creature to behold. I was a war lord in my youth, and she was a prize from one of our wars. I took her and I made her mine.”

Of fucking course he did. Seems the women of your family have a tendency to be used against their will despite their power.

“In exchange for her freedom, she promised me immortality. She would give it to me so long as I swore to release her and the two daughters she had with her.”

You frown, listening to the story, reluctantly curious. You don’t know much about your ancestors, and you’d never heard of how Ailfrid had come to use your family as slaves. You’d wondered a few times, but it had never mattered in the long run.

“She gave me immortality, but she was weakened because of it. I truly had no use of her or her children, my wife at the time had given me three sons already. Morgane didn’t survive the immortality spell, you see, but her books did, her teachings. As she was my prize for raiding that kingdom, all her possessions became mine. Including her two very lovely daughters.”

You shift uneasily. You’ve never heard the name Morgane before, its not familiar to you. You have no way of knowing if what Ailfrid is telling you is the truth or not, but you wouldn’t be surprised.

She lived in peace with her children, no doubt, until Ailfrid came and basically kidnapped her because she was beautiful and powerful. There’s no telling what he did to her, or made her do for her freedom — which she didn’t even get! She died, and he made sure her children and descendants never escaped him. He’s been using them for his own whims for centuries.

Witches have long life spans, but the immortality spell is dangerous, dark magic. It binds the life forces of two together, of the earth. It generally did kill the witch, which is why you’d never been up for doing it all, no one is worth losing your life over.

You’ll never forget the image of your mother crumpling, of the white wisp of air leaving her lips as her soul departed.

And they’d just tossed her body away like garbage.

“So you’ve been torturing my family for centuries, good to know,” you mutter, seeing Ailfrid frown at you. “I’m sure Morgane is just itching to greet you in the afterlife.”

“She’ll never have the chance. Do you truly think you’re ever going to leave this compound again, (Y/N)?” Ailfrid sounds almost curious. “You’re never going to see the sun again, nor the demon you were shacking up with. You belong to me, do you understand?”

His fingers are curling around your chin again, this time painfully tight as he makes you look at him. “You cost me a grandson, a nephew. A son. What I’m going to do to you next will make you wish I had drown you at birth just as I did your brothers.”

Brothers?

What brothers?

Ailfrids eyes run over you, and you try not to flinch as he draws your hair over your shoulder, inspecting the bruises decorating your neck.

“I see the demon has had his way with you, plenty of times. You should be prepared then for what my sons are going to do to you when they get here,” he chuckles, smacking your cheek rather harshly with his fingers. “I’m going to enjoy listening to you beg for release.”

“I will never beg.”

“You have no idea what knowledge five hundred years has given me, little one,” Ailrid says softly, trailing his fingers down your bruised neck. “Torture is an art form.”

“Angelo is a demon of pain, he feeds from it. You’d be surprised everything he taught me.” you say, narrowing your eyes as you move from his touch, your chains rattling. “Mark my words, Ailfrid, you won’t survive this night.”

You hope.

Angelo needs to come for you already!

“You’re all talk and no bite, cagna.” Marcos says from the doorway with a contemptuous smile. “You can do nothing right now. You’re defenseless.”

“You’d be surprised at what I can do, stronzo.” you snap in return; Angelo had accidentally taught you quite a few Italian curses in your stay with him.

His lips curl. “We’ll see about that, won’t we? Ailfrid, let me have some time with her, to start. I’ve been chasing her for nearly a decade now.”

“Mm, I don’t see why you shouldn’t get first use of her.” Ailfrid agrees, starting to lose interest; the pleasure of having you back again, of knowing he’s won — he needs to celebrate. You’ve caused his family so much grief, he can’t wait for his men to return the favor. “Do as you wish, get her prepped for Eoin��s birthday. She can be a gift.”

Fuck that!

You strain against your shackles once more, your stomach feeling tight and painful. You know what they have in store for you, but you won’t go down without a fight. No one’s going to help you, but they never really have, either. You’ve always been on your own and this is no different.

You’ll kill all of them.

You don’t mean too, but you’re already losing hope that Angelo will come. You can’t help it, being back in the dungeons — the Mikaelsons being all around you and your pathetic sister whimpering in the corner — it’s like you’ve never left. It’s hard to have hope in such a dismal situation.

You know Marcos will hurt you, do whatever he can to get some information out of you. Ailfrid wants those books, and Marcos will do whatever he can to make sure Ailfrid gets what Ailfrid wants.

You should’ve burned the compound down ages ago instead of running from it.

“I hate all of you, so much,” you say, Ailfrid turning back as he reaches the doorway, glancing at you over his shoulder. “I swear to you, even if you kill me, I’ll come back. I will come back, and I will haunt you. I will make sure your lives are miserable. I will destroy, everything.”

Ailfrid doesn’t doubt that.

Marcos frowns. He doesn’t like your eyes, he doesn’t like the way the red of your veins are starting to become more prominent. The white is starting to disappear, and it’s eeiry to stare into the red abyss.

“Shut your mouth,” he snaps, the back of his hand connecting with your face. You stagger, slamming hard into the wall, a cracking noise as you hit it. You gasp, red curls falling in front of your eyes as your legs tremble.

You spit, but still there’s no blood, nothing you can draw power from.

“You will not speak again,”  Marcos growls, his hand closing around your throat and wrenching you up. He shakes you a little, just to make a point. “Not unless you intend to tell me where those books are.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, you will be soon, don’t worry,” Marcos grins at you, white teeth gleaming in his tanned face. His eyes are so cold, so soulless — Angelo’s have never looked that way and he’s a demon! “Who knows, if you survive the immortality spell, Ailfrid may even let me keep you. Can you imagine what powerful children you could give me?”

“I’d rather die!”

“Don’t think that’s not an option, strega.”

It doesn’t sound as endearing coming from his lips.

You glower at him, gritting your teeth.

Angelo is going to come for you, you have to believe he will.

He’s not going to leave you, abandon you to this fate.

He cares about you doesn’t he?

He’s going to come!

He has too!

He has too.

[smoothshift]

What car makes you nostalgic? via /r/cars

What car makes you nostalgic?

Vans. Definitely vans. I hate to date myself but I came of age in the era of custom vans and disco. A custom van started out life as a regular cargo van. If you had the imagination, carpentry skills, and upholstery skills you could make yourself a fine bedroom on wheels. You would pick up your lady, grab a burger, then park somewhere. Aided by the disco blaring out of your 8-track you’d put your motel room on wheels to good use.

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I got my first blowjob in the back of a custom van. I was 15, she was 42 with big pillowy breasts. The van was her husband’s. “We’re an American Band” by Grand Funk Railroad played over the van’s speakers. It was the highlight of my teen years until I went all the way with my senior year girlfriend Ellen at a house party after a school dance.

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When I came home from the Air Force my dad gifted me a 1977 GMC no window van that had formerly been a plumber’s van. About 2 months after I got it the motor started knocking real bad. Dad, a machinist, built me a fine 350 for it. Which promptly blew up the transmission. After rebuilding that we decided to put a posi in the rear end. That van could shit and get. It sounded great on glasspacks. A deep rumble that wasn’t too loud.

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I had some really cool chrome steel 15” wagon wheels on it. The tires had white letters on them. My dad helped me with the body work and then I had it painted orange with white stripes. It looked tits. Inside I had the deepest, shaggiest fluorescent orange carpet you ever saw and wood grain paneling on the walls .Indian (Native American) blankets covered the ceiling. The front seats got swapped for captains chairs upholstered in orange. In the middle I built a love seat for making out. In the back was a queen size bed with orange satin bed linen.

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I screwed, smoked, and drank my way through college in that van. Life was fantastic. I was older than the average college kid and there was no shortage of girls to drink with. Plus I had a little more money than average because I was working as a bartender. My van was party central. It was some of the best years of my life. On the back I had a bumper sticker that said “When this van is rockin’, don’t come knockin’.” On the passenger side front bumper was a sticker that said “Gas, grass, or ass, nobody rides for free.”

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 I had the only 3 way (2 girls) of my life in that van. Kay and Susan, 2 girls from my American lit class. I invited them to my van to discuss “The Guns of August” and started pouring Long Island Teas into them. When they were sufficiently hammered I broke out “Let’s Get It On” by Marvin Gaye.

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I tell you, college is a magical time. Especially with a pair of naive, kind of bookish, girls in their first semester away from home. When they’re having hard liquor for the first time. They smoked their first joint after.

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As usually happens businessmen looked at the custom van trend and saw that it was good. This spawned the conversion van. The conversion van was a factory built van. It usually had 2 rows of captains chairs and a back bench that folded out into a bed. The nicer vans had an extension that made a bed that was about queen sized. Dark tinted windows and Venetian blinds afforded privacy for all the weed smoking and kinky shit going on in the back. Conversion vans often had TVs and with the advent of VCRs and inverters you could watch dirty movies, smoke weed, and fuck your girl’s brains out in your van. Truly, life had peaked and American society has been in a decline since.

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I bought my first conversion van in 1993. It was a top of the line Chevy. High top, VCR, color TV, and acres of creamy burgundy velour. In 1993 I had a sexy girlfriend named Sandy. Sandy was athletic, never before or since have I taken a woman to bed that had the sheer athleticism and stamina that Sandy had. Making love to her was like running a marathon in Houston in July.

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We took a summer off from our jobs and went to music festivals and concerts all over the country. We went coast to coast and managed to have sex in the van in 37 states. Have I mentioned yet how awesome van life was?

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I would have been happy to spend the rest of my life living like that, alas, we had careers to get back to. Our relationship didn’t survive outside the van. I sold the van a few years later. No amount of steam cleaning can thoroughly erase the smell of weed and sex from velour.

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In 1999 I tried to recapture the magic of the van life. I bought an Econoline this time. A “sporty” low top in black with silver graphics. I kinda fucked up, the thing wouldn’t fit in my garage. Since the HOA has rules against leaving cars outside all night I had to rent a parking spot for it in a parking garage. It got broken into a bunch of times and became more of a hassle than it was worth. Van life was fading out of America and there was a distinct shortage of women who wanted to have sex in a van. I sold it after owning it less than a year.

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I feel bad for young Redditors that missed out. The golden age of the van was something special. Something that will probably not be repeated. The days of the V8 van are coming to an end. The Chevrolet Express and GMC Savana are the only ones left, as far as I know. Sad times we live in. I believe Quigley even went out of business. they converted vans to 4x4. By the same token I’m sure Redditors old enough to have college age daughters are glad van life is no longer a thing.

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I’m not a religious man and don’t particularly believe in Heaven or Hell. Some men, as they see many more years behind them than ahead of them, get religious in their later years. It hasn’t happened to me yet. I don’t think there is enough Holy Water in Rome to wash me clean. If there is an all powerful force controlling the universe and an afterlife I wouldn’t mind reliving the summer of 1993. I just hope I don’t forget my Nirvana and Pearl Jam tapes on the kitchen counter again.

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Take me for a cruise down your memory lane.