#your very existence came from the fact that your brother was never supposed to live for long

[lloydfrontera]

theo's mom dying when he was born, him growing up with a sickly older brother who he's always known will die young and that he's supposed to replace, him being raised to become emperor after his father's death and making that such a cornerstone of his sense of self-worth that he has a breakdown when that future is taken from him,,,, maybe him falling in love and marrying sylvia, an elf that will outlive him for hundreds of years, is less of a tragic coincidence and more of a self-preservation move lmao

he met one (1) person who he had a near-zero chance of outliving and decided that she's the one he wanted to spend his life with. it's almost funny in a kinda tragic way.

[chuluoyi]

I'm thinking about Megumi's sister, who went to magic school with him. who was trained by Gojo. who fell in love with Gojo. who dared to confess her feelings to him. and which Satoru rejected, saying that he was too old for her

it doesn't have to be something obscene… so if you like this idea, then please write something!

belong with me

- gojo satoru x reader

the strongest sorcerer is your savior. you know he is far from your reach... but is it so wrong to love him—after the years you spent by his side?

genre/warnings: angst to fluff, a bit slow burn, age gap, one-sided pining, mentions of injury, comfort, teacher!gojo x student!reader

notes: omg omg i actually really like this idea!! i had wanted to write this since you sent this ask but i was struggling with the setting, so i tweaked minor things so that it’ll fit the canon timeline—reader is megumi’s cousin rather than sister.

and *sigh* it somehow turned out into a 4k+ word🤧

general masterlist

What is Gojo Satoru to you?

If asked that, Megumi would definitely say that he owed both of your lives and his sister’s to him. Following the chaos too complicated for you to understand that left the three of you orphaned at the age of six, Gojo Satoru, who were just barely an adult himself then, was the one who stepped in to take all of you in.

But to you, he was more than just that. He was many things. Your savior, mentor, friend, and... you daresay, first love.

And because of that, you would never thought that there’d come a time when your heart was really broken by him.

At first, Gojo Satoru felt like a big brother to you. Megumi was suspicious of him since the very beginning—his skepticism was funny sometimes—but you and Tsumiki weren’t as much.

He easily became your friend. You would laugh for hours to end after he cracked the stupidest or lamest of jokes. He made the fact that curses exist and that you were somehow able to keep them at bay more bearable.

And when Tsumiki fell into her curse… Gojo was there to bring you comfort.

“Why isn’t she waking up?” Your hands were shaking as you frantically poked and nudged your kind cousin from her peaceful slumber at the hospital bed. The smell was suffocating—the sight was unbearable. Tsumiki was supposed to be bouncing up and keeping both you and Megumi at bay, not lifelessly lying here like this.

Facing Gojo, who had a tight-lipped expression beside you, you pleaded, "Gojo-sensei—" your glassy eyes welled up, voice choked with tears, "—make her wake up, please..."

And that was the first time he broke your heart. Even the strongest couldn’t lift this cruel curse posed upon your kind sister.

Your throat tightened, choked with painful whimpers as tears flowed uncontrollably. Sudden grief overwhelmed you, making you sway and shake like a leaf. At first, you didn’t notice how a pair of warm hands enveloped you, drawing you close for comfort.

Gojo allowed you to cry against him while you pounded on his chest. Not a word came out of his lips, a telltale sign that he was taking the situation seriously—something you, above anyone else, understood well.

From then on—ever since the tragedy that befell Tsumiki, it seemed like Gojo became even more protective of you but stricter with Megumi. The two of you eventually pursued the path of jujutsu, driven by one wishful thinking in mind—the possibility to break Tsumiki’s curse.

Encountering Gojo became a daily routine when you lived at the dormitory as a first year at Jujutsu High. He frequently dropped by just to greet you, or give you some things he got from his missions.

"Here," Gojo handed you the package of a popular kikufuku store. With that blindfold on and a shit-eating grin split his face, he actually looked so ridiculous. "I got you all their available flavors! Trust me, you'll like them!"

Against your own will, you felt rosy blush spreading across your cheeks. "Oh, thank you... I'll give some to Megumi as well, he's been working hard lately..."

"Ehh?" he pursed his lips. "No, no, no—they're for you! Don't give them to that emo kid!"

There was absolutely nothing significant about how he worded it. You were well aware of that—only a fool wouldn't be.

So why are you so giddy? Hah, why do you feel like you're... special?

"Don't call him emo," you chided, trying to suppress your smile.

"But he is! He's always grouchy with me without reason!"

Throughout your childhood, and now as you were entering adulthood yourself, Gojo's presence in your life still felt like a comforting, warm blanket—a dependable presence you could rely on, someone you could trust completely.

And apparently, someone you had unwittingly given your heart to.

It was a gradual process. You didn't fall for him at first sight or anything of the sort—it took years of being under his protection. Even as you watched him pursue one girl after another from the sidelines, you couldn't deny it—your heart was already his since then.

He always knew what to say, how to cheer you up.

"What's got you so down, huh?" Gojo asked, tousling your hair gently as you slouched. "Is it because of earlier? Don't be so down, you're doing great."

You fidgeted with your fingers, feeling the sting of failure twisting your gut. "I held everyone back, sensei. That's not great at all."

In the last mission, you nearly put Yuji and Nobara's lives in danger. You had taken the initiative to step into the cursed room, and had it not been for Megumi who came to your rescue, any one of you could have sustained significantly more severe injuries.

Gojo offered you a lopsided smile. "You couldn't have known that. Don't beat yourself up so much. The most important thing is that all of you are safe."

"But we might not, all because of my daring ass."

"Look."

He squatted to meet your eye level, and it dawned on you that he wasn't wearing that blindfold. "The fact is that everyone is good. And no, even if Megumi wasn't there, you wouldn't have been doomed. I would have been there, I always have, yeah?"

He was truly a sight, with that sparkling eyes even more so when he smiled unabashedly, voice not as playful as his tone usually was.

"That doesn't make me feel better," you replied, forcing out the words even as you were somewhat awestruck. "It doesn't change the fact that I'm inadequate."

"You're a first year," Gojo pointed out. "Everyone is bound to make mistakes. You just have to learn from them."

"In our line of work, those mistakes can cost us lives." You chewed your lip, looking down. "I—I don't want to be responsible for someone's death."

Your words left Gojo momentarily speechless. His blue eyes blinked several times as though he was taken aback, and you felt even more small—you had just revealed your deepest fear to him.

But suddenly, he laughed right in your face, prompting you to shoot him a glare. Just as you were about to retort, he rested his palm on your head.

"Do you seriously think I will allow that to happen?" Gojo queried with a wide grin and snarky tone. "To you, out of everyone else?"

You gazed at him in a daze, feeling self-conscious with his warm hand on your head. He'd likely done this a hundred times already, but you could never get past the sensation of his gentle touch on your skin. You yearned for more—for him to cradle your face, to caress you, to draw you closer—

“The obvious answer is, I won't,” he declared so surely, exuding unwavering confidence. You blinked, marveling at how his words made your heart soar and your breath catch. “So stop thinking about scary things. I'm here, remember?”

How was there a person who was such a perfect blend of the man of your dreams—smug, but also funny, caring and strong, like Gojo Satoru was?

Was it a sin to harbor these feelings for him? He has always been kind to you, and if you daresay it, fond of you as well. Is there a possibility—

Really, you should have known your boundaries.

"I think..."

And yet your heart screamed, for whatever it's worth—

"...I love you..."

Why couldn't you see that this was doomed right from the start?

"—Gojo-sensei."

You were breathless. Your wildly thumping heart drowned out almost everything else. Your hands were sweaty, and you braved yourself to meet his eyes.

And when you did, you knew heartbreak for the second time—

The way his smile faltered a bit, yet he forced it upwards, perhaps to spare your feelings.

Just as he always has. Ever since he rescued you back then, he would do these silly things so you would feel better.

"I'm flattered, you know?" Gojo gazed at you genially. "But I think—"

"You don't understand." What am I even insisting? "I... like you so much, Gojo-sensei. All this time."

It was supposed to be your final card. Baring everything to him. How grateful you were that he took you in, the kindness he showed you, Megumi and Tsumiki, those sleepless nights after Tsumiki fell into coma that he spent with you, sharing shaved ice on the hottest, cruelest summer...

"You're almost half my age," he stated matter-of-factly, and a sinking feeling settled in your stomach. "You're mistaking love for admiration. That's it."

"No! I know how I feel—"

"You should find someone your age," Gojo added while maintaining his smile. "There are good guys out there. Toge is nice—ah, but his cursed technique might be a little troublesome. Yuji is earnest and honest..."

You have never thought that there’d come a time where your heart was really broken by him. But he just did, as he listed all your friends without any regard to your feelings.

Suddenly, a wave of resentment surged within you, prompting you to hiss and cut him off.

"You're always like this," your eyes had started to well up with tears, but you ignored it. His puzzled expression only fueled your frustration.

"I hate how you constantly treat me like a child!"

You felt ashamed, but in hindsight you should've probably expected this. You didn't have anyone else to blame but yourself. You knew it wasn't fair to lay the blame on Gojo like now—he was merely on the receiving end of the brunt of your heartbreak.

You hated this. You hated yourself. And you couldn't help but to hate him too, despite knowing that you shouldn't.

With that, you dashed away, tucking away your first love to the furthermost part of your heart, swearing that you'd never, ever revisit that chapter of your life again.

Ain't that just the worst thing to hear?

Witnessing your tear-streaked face as you hurried past him left him stunned, rooted in place.

In no way was Gojo Satoru going to romance his own student. You were quite literally his protege and his other protege’s sister. That was simply out of the question. Not that he was the model of propriety, but even he knew that was not right.

And it didn’t have anything to do with the fact whether he did see you as a woman or not, because even if he did, it shouldn’t make a difference.

Right? It won’t change anything.

Because it was how it was supposed to be.

It was probably one of the forms of tantrum—or whatever it was labeled—in the end, it was simply a reaction to not achieving what you wanted.

For years, Gojo had shielded you and Megumi from the Zen’in clan. They were horrible people, and you were eternally grateful that Gojo went to great lengths for you, always swatting them away before they could get close to either of you.

Now that you thought about it, who they really wanted was Megumi. Your cousin held the quintessential Zen'in talent, while your modest Projection Sorcery wasn't particularly rare among the clan. Still, they sought you as well, merely to bolster their prestige with another member.

Normally, you wouldn't think such things. But you weren't in the best state of mind, muddled by your blind heartbreak. It skewed your mindset to one of the extremes.

And then you got this terrifyingly brilliant idea—what if you turned yourself to them? Surely the Zen’in would be sated for a while and stop bugging Megumi.

And you didn’t have to see Gojo as often too.

This went against everything he had done to ensure your safety. But that was the first thing that entered your mind when Zen’in Naoya accosted you by chance.

"We're family," he stated with a smirk, sending a shiver down your spine, an unsettling feeling washing over you. "We wouldn't harm you. Why waste your time being Gojo's little errand girl, huh?"

This was easier, or at least that was the illusion you attempted to persuade yourself with.

Naoya left with you with a meaningful "Think about it."

And the more you thought about it, the more you leaned towards the scenario you had thought to be unimaginable before—leaving Gojo behind.

Two months had passed since then, and it was time for the Kyoto Goodwill Exchange event. Gojo remembered this being one of the most exciting moments during his youth, and he sincerely wished that you would have fun too, even with all that had been going on between you.

He knew he was the one who said Yuji would be good. But he wanted to backtrack when he saw him getting punched by Todo. Nah, Yuji was too stupid, he wouldn’t want that for your match. Must be someone else… who was stronger, better.

And then he was even more beside himself when he saw you with Mechamaru.

Like really? That tin soldier? You could definitely have someone more human. He surely didn’t approve of the sight of you getting friendly with that suspicious scrap of metal!

"Hah," he grumbled to himself. Was it just him or were young boys these days simply too subpar?

Yuji is too risky, after all, he is also Sukuna's vessel. Todo... no way, he can crush you with one hand... Panda is a panda...

As if the roster wasn't bad enough, he was met with the most bewildering sight.

Never would have Gojo thought that someway or another, he would see you with that obnoxious Zen'in spawn who called himself the heir.

Before he could grasp his actions, he stomped right into the midst of where the two of you were—

. . .

You were a step away from agreeing to a whole load of new mess, until wind got knocked out of your lungs as you were harshly yanked from behind—

—and the next thing you knew, a broad back was in front of you.

“What do you want?” a low voice, almost foreign to your ears. But this man before you was Gojo Satoru himself, just way sterner than he usually was.

You were caught off guard by his tight grip on your wrist, his dark gaze fixed on the Naoya.

“Ah, don't be like that, please.” Naoya dismissed with a wave of his hand. "I'm just saying that it's been too long already for you to play the benefactor. She ought to be with the family, where she rightfully belongs."

Gojo seemed to grow more imposing, his sneer deepening. "And by family you mean you?"

The atmosphere grew tense as the exchange between them continued, each word laden with underlying tension.

"Hah, Gojo-sama, you really think you're so high and mighty, don't you? I'll have you know that she, and by extension, the Fushiguro boy, are Zen'ins. No matter how—"

Naoya's words seemed to falter as Gojo's presence intensified. There was this thick electricity in the air, and you almost shuddered when he spat, "Leave."

He couldn't possibly murder another great clan's heir, no matter how much he might have been able to. It would incite a strife that would make his eyes hurt. He just had to scare him off.

And he did. Naoya went with his tail tucked behind him, and that was one problem taken care of. Now Gojo just had one other thing to deal with—

"What were you thinking?" he asked, his tone sharp and accusing, before he even properly faced you. "Since when did you start meeting up with him?"

You hadn’t talked to him ever since your botched confession, but with the way it seemed, he was acting quite normal. It irked you.

"That's hardly your business," you retorted with a hiss.

Your responses seemed to grate him. "Oh? What do you mean it's not?"

"He is right, isn't he? I'm a Zen'in. There is no need for you to go out of your way to keep me under your wing. I can always go back to them."

"Are you—" His frustration was evident and it was quite possibly the first time you saw him direct this at you. "You can't go to them—"

"Sure," you mocked, wrenching your wrist away from his grasp. "I'm telling you, I'm not a child, Gojo-sensei. Please stop telling me what should and I should not do."

"That's not what I'm getting at. I've told you how horrible that place is, your place definitely isn't there."

"And? Where should I be?" you huffed challengingly. "Please, don't tell me that it's your cue to say that it's by your side. Because both of us know it's not."

Gojo didn't know what frustrated him more, the fact that you somehow fell into whatever it was that Naoya had whispered to your ear or how bratty you were being right now. Unwittingly, he let his own pettiness slip out, "You know what? You're being quite childish right now."

He convinced himself that, having practically raised you, he was entitled to have a say in major decisions in your life. He wouldn't let the Zen'in take Megumi away, let alone you.

Your face went scarlet with repressed anger. "So be it then."

With that, you stalked away, and just like how you went away from him the first time, Gojo could only stare at you in silence.

How had your relationship with him turned this sour? Was it the wrong thing to not acknowledge your confession before? He sincerely thought you would realize the implications behind your own words and snap out of that ideal version of him you had in mind—because he knew best that he wasn’t made for this.

Girls your age must want a taste of young love. He understood that, but it couldn’t be with him. It had to be someone else.

He resumed his musings earlier before he found you out with Naoya. And he finally came to a conclusion, that Yuta was the best match. Shame he was still away somewhere in Africa.

When Yuta got back, he would introduce him to you. Yuta was strong, kind, and he wouldn’t hurt you. And it would do him good too to have someone who cares about him.

Gojo Satoru never made flawed judgements. He knew this was the best approach, and yet why was there still this stifling feeling in his gut… at the idea of you being with someone—god forbid—who isn't him?

Not long after, a sinking feeling gnawed at him at the chaotic mess surrounding the Kyoto Goodwill event.

At first Gojo thought it was the standard worry. He chalked it up to all of his students were trapped inside this curtain that specifically forbid him to enter. Naturally, he would worry for his students; after all, he was their teacher.

But when he saw you fell on your knees with what seemed like a stem of cursed flower perched on your chest, he knew it was something else.

You were gasping for breath, clutching your chest in pain while Panda supported your weakened form, and seeing you like that apparently was too much for him. For the first time, Gojo regretted his decision. He shouldn't have pursued the enemy first. He should have gone to you first.

His instinct took over as he swiftly tore you away from Panda’s arms, drawing you close to his chest. His mind went blank, but he forced himself to focus on you, on what was causing you pain. "Y/N, calm down—"

"It hurts—!" you whimpered, digging your nails into his arm tightly, tears streaming down your face. "It hurts so much... I-I..."

For Gojo, this was a form of torture he hadn't realized before. For him, seeing you smile should have been the default, not this sobbing, injured, vulnerable state you were in now.

"I'll take you to Shoko. You'll be fine," he murmured decisively into your ear as you slumped against him. His grip around you tightened, and he repeated, "You'll be fine, I promise."

In the midst of your foggy mind, a realization struck—this was the second time you were ever held in his arms. And much like the first time, you felt an overwhelming sense of security.

Ah, but he had rejected you. You should know your place. You really should because pining on someone who didn't want you wasn't a wise thing to do.

But just this once...

Stupid. You were stupid indeed.

Because you chose to bask in this very short fantasy, fervently wishing that the heavens would grant you this sweet dream of him holding you in his arms like just this for a little longer.

As Gojo quietly observed you resting after being tended by Shoko, numerous thoughts swirled through his mind.

"I hate how you constantly treat me like a child!"

That was not true. He didn't mean to treat you like a child, because you were indeed not. You were a grown woman now, no longer the crying child consoled by Tsumiki and protected by Megumi as you were back then.

Once, you were this young bud he was meant to nurture into strength, but now despite himself, he saw you more as a woman rather than his protege. He wanted to see you bloom into this pretty girl he had always known you were, always innocent and protected—and a selfish part of himself would add: preferably by himself.

You were so serene. You looked so soft too as you laid there. Gojo thought this wasn't quite right and he couldn't quite get the image of you screaming in pain out of his peripheral thoughts.

Had he truly fallen? This strong urge to protect you, ensure your happiness, see you always smiling—it was as if these emotions were suddenly planted, but immediately establishing themselves like deep-rooted feelings that wouldn't fade away easily.

No, actually... who was he kidding? It was what he had kept to himself for a while now. He just refused to acknowledge these feelings out of the misguided sense of propriety.

It was all he could think of from the moment you passed out until you awakened. He pasted a smile on his face when you opened your eyes to his face.

"Ah, Gojo-sensei..." you mumbled, still disoriented. The way you looked at him was as if you were spooked, to say the least, and it bugged him. "Sorry, how long have I passed out?"

"Just a few hours. Are you okay? Do you still feel the pain?"

"Uh... a bit, but I'm okay..."

Normally, he never seemed to run out of things to talk about with you. This was too obvious. You were uncomfortable with him, and he noticed it.

You also seemed acutely aware of this immensely awkward situation. Having spent the majority of your life with him, you used to be open and at ease around him. But now, it wasn't the same. All because of your reckless confession before.

You spent the first few hours with occasional silence. Eventually, Gojo stepped away for a while, leaving behind a lingering sense of discomfort instilled within you.

You remembered the feeling of being in his arms. Once again, he saved you. The least you could do is to express your gratitude.

I don’t like this. It had been two months already. You had to put an end to this unbearable tension. You couldn't force him to return your feelings—you understood that now. And to make it to the way it used to be, you had to make it clear to Gojo too.

And so when he was back to your room, you braved yourself again. For the second and last time.

"Gojo-sensei," you breathed out, willing your shaky hands at bay. "I'm sorry to make you uncomfortable. Please forget what I said before."

What is this now? Gojo blinked, stopping right in his tracks, somehow hearing how you started with a "sorry" didn't sit well with him.

You continued. "Maybe you are right. I'm grateful for you, I look up to you... for the longest time, I might even have idolized you."

Wait...

"But it isn't love," you said with finality, looking away. "This is me admiring you, for all things you have done for me. And even if it is, I still can't force you to look at me in that way."

Gojo could only gaze at you in silence, a storm raging inside his chest. This was what he had hoped you would realize when you confessed your feelings back then, but now—

"I don't like how... we are now," you gulped. "And it's my fault. So I'm taking it back—"

“No, just—” This wasn’t right. Gojo knows it, but why is he saying this? “Just wait for a minute.”

You started as someone he wanted to protect, along with Megumi and Tsumiki. And then you grew up right in front of his eyes. Someone like you, who had gone through many horrors in life ever since young should have someone dependable and strong who could make you happy.

But then Gojo thought, he didn’t like how others looked at you. Heck, in his eyes, they were inadequate for you, if anything.

“Sensei?” you looked up to him with that doe eyes of yours, and Gojo Satoru felt like this was enough.

To hell with you finding someone your age.

He was strong—the strongest, and if it’s him, he most definitely could protect you far better than anyone.

He could make you laugh—had been for years already, and nothing would stop him now.

He would be damned should you somehow go to the grubby hands of the Zen’in.

“Keep your eyes on me,” his somber voice said then, causing your heart to skip a beat in response.

In short, he was better-suited for you more than anyone else ever could, in every possible aspect.

Apparently he was right. Your place was by his side, after all.

“…because from now, I might start looking at you too.”

[notjustjavierpena]

I’ve been binge reading your amazing husband!javier series and it makes me feel soo 💕💗💞 but what i’m very curious about is inés! i don’t think (unless i missed it) that you ever wrote anything about when inés was born!! just curious on javi’s reaction to having a girl. girl dad javi for the win. that’s it. that’s all.

Girl

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: I so hope that this is what you had in mind, anon-sweetheart. This is the best I could do 🥺💖❤️

Summary: A glimpse into how Javier handles Inés, his two days old daughter.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: Domestic, descriptions of a postpartum body, Javier loves his family, Javi POV, newborn bubble, bit of angst, life with a tiny baby!!

Word count: 2.7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57176173

Girl

There are soft and fine hairs on Inés Peña’s head. Javier already finds that his favorite pastime is to run his fingers over them, feel the way they brush against his fingertips, and send butterflies through his body all the way to his heart. The gentle strokes to her head make her squirm underneath his touch, solidifying the fact that he is a father of two now, one of whom is a baby girl. 

He never quite understood the idea of wanting to take a bullet for someone until he became a father to Lucas. It makes him feel slightly bad about the stress he must have caused his father back in the day, running around intentionally seeking dangerous situations all the way into adulthood. He supposes that it’s payback that Lucas already causes him stress from merely existing and he has to force himself to give up control once in a while when Lucas wants to independently try new things that might get his knees scraped literally and figuratively. He knows it’s ridiculous to think that maybe it’ll be different with Inés because he has a certain idea of how it will be to be the father of a girl. You’ve laughed about that already, told him that sometimes it can be even worse with a girl. 

A girl.

He weighs the meaning of this, has been aware of the new responsibilities that follow with having a daughter since he held Inés in his arms for the first time. A nurse had handed her to him whilst you got some much-needed rest and he had been floored by emotions that shot through his body. He had never thought much of the significance of raising a daughter before she came into his life screaming but feeling her skin against his own made his mind spiral. How stupid a man he is, that he ever thought it wouldn’t be much different than what he has gone through with Lucas, and whereas he still looks forward to the day of her first smile, her first step or her first word, a special kind of dread follows him around as he looks down at her now. The world is so cruel for someone so tiny and frail, someone bound to be met with challenges he’ll never understand. It’s a different kind of need to protect; it’s instinctual, intense, and utterly consuming. What about her first party? Her first job? Her first boyfriend? What about all the things that only you can help her with? Oh God.

He huffs out a little laugh that stems from disbelief. Inés is two days old and she has already transformed him into something new. He loves everything about her: Her flat little nose, her disproportionately big hands, the details on her skin, creases on her forehead, and prints on her fingers that make her seem so real even when she doesn’t do much. He knows she exists for real because of her being soft to the touch and because of the tiny noises she makes in her sleep but it’s the feeling in his body, a buzz that he can’t explain that tells him how real. 

Sleep is all she does really, much like her older brother did during his first week in the world of the living. She has big eyes that flutter behind her eyelids as she dreams, curling up her little body to mimic the way she slept in her previous home which is your belly until she wakes up slowly with a massive yawn that makes you giggle as you greet her. 

“You are so loved, Inés,” he whispers as she coos in her slumber. He tucks the blanket around her a little more, rubbing her little belly with his fingertips, “So so loved, mi amor (my love). Mamá and I are gonna take care of you.”

He barely finishes the sentence when he feels a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, making him turn his head to look back at you. You are standing right behind him, smiling tiredly at him and just out of the shower but you shake your head when he starts to get up from his seat to offer it to you. 

“How are my two loves doing?” You ask softly to redirect his attention away from you but he takes you in for a moment before finding the proper response. You are in the underwear that you specifically bought for the first month after Inés’ arrival, waddling around as your body still hasn’t quite figured out that it’s not housing a baby anymore; your belly is still rounded, your skin bears stretch marks that he thinks of as beautiful as lightning on a night sky, and you move through his home with the careful slowness of someone healing. 

“Perfect,” he says when he still has his eyes on you, smiling warmly as you return it with a shy face. He turns back to look at his infant daughter and rests his arms on the side of her bassinet, “We’re perfect, ain’t we, Inés?”

“At least you are,” you groan softly, dragging the footstool from Javier’s chair towards the two of them. Your words are followed by a chuckle to hide your self-consciousness, “I don’t feel very perfect myself these days.”

Javier tuts at you as you go against your doctor’s advice of not moving things that are too heavy so soon after giving birth. He decides to move swiftly before you can protest, getting up from his seat and guiding you to sit in his chair instead. He has a warm and reassuring hand on your back as he helps you sit down, knowing that the tiredness is as much from the soreness of your back and feet as well as the sleepless nights a newborn brings. 

“Gentleman,” you note.

“You are amazing,” he stresses and sits down opposite you, not bothered at all by the new seating arrangement, “Absolutely beautiful too. How are you feeling?”

“Just a little sore, it’s okay. Don’t worry,” you admit and look past him to stare at your baby to consciously ignore Javier’s concerned eyes. You lean towards the bassinet and he decides not to get too fussy about you, just hears your dreamy voice and lets it wash over him, “Can you believe Lucas used to be this size?”

Javier shakes his head as memories of Lucas’ early days flood his mind instead, noticing the way his two kids already look a bit alike. He scoots his seat closer to yours and takes your hand without saying anything, “Yes and no, it feels like it was only yesterday. Can’t believe he’s running around now, stressing his father out like that.”

You put a hand on your belly as you giggle quietly, moving slowly to rest your cheek against the side of Inés’ bed and only wincing a little. Javier squeezes your free hand but you choose to tease him instead of acknowledging his concern, “This one will too, you know. Enjoy this moment while it lasts.”

“I’m trying but I really want to pick her up all the time,” he tells you with embarrassment. He wants to press his nose into the top of her soft head and inhale that distinct smell that all babies have, the one that seems to be holding him hostage in a bubble of sentiment. 

“You can’t,” you scold playfully, “She needs rest and so do you.”

“Fuck, lo sé (I know),” he nods understandingly but he has the kind of longing that only a newborn can cause to a parent, “Pero es tan perfecta (But she is so perfect).” 

“También será perfecta cuando se despierta (She’ll also be perfect when she wakes up),” you remind him and pull his hand to your lips to kiss it, showing him a sort of affection that only you have ever brought him.

“Perfecta como tú (perfect like you),” he charms with no other endgame other than seeing your mouth pull into a little smile, cheeks warm from his love. 

“You clearly need a nap too,” you say in your motherly voice, hiding your face from him and trying to play the fact that he still makes you feel like a teenager off, “Gotta sleep when the baby sleeps.”

Javier finally tears his gaze away from his beautiful infant daughter. He sits up straight and watches you mirror him with hidden discomfort. He could continue his playful reluctance to get up from his seat but seeing how tired you look despite your best efforts to hide it from him makes him a little more serious. 

“Alright, you win,” he lets go of your hand to hold his hands up in mock surrender, earning a quick and affectionate roll of your eyes. He’ll read your mind like this and adjust accordingly, happy to play the fool if it just ends in your comfort, “I’ll behave myself if you take a nap with me.”

“That’s a deal,” you agree and put your hands on your knees to stand. 

Javier rises from his seat and holds out his hand to help you, shaking it a little when you don’t immediately take it. However, when you do and haul yourself up from the chair, a relieved expression crosses your face when you can support your belly while he supports your back. 

He guides you across the floor to the bed, chest feeling alight with his affection for you as you get comfortable under the covers. He dares a last glance at his daughter before joining you, lying down face-to-face with you and tenderly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You smile with heavy lids, placing your hand between your heads so he can take it. 

“You rest,” you tell him as he curls his fingers around your wrist instead, rubbing your delicate skin with his thumb. 

“Thank you,” he whispers into the quiet room. 

You furrow your brows while smiling, “For what?”

“For giving me my family,” Javier drags your hand to his mouth, returning the kiss you gave him earlier. It’s so gentle because you are so sensitive everywhere right now, body filled with overwhelming hormones and overstimulation, “You’re a pretty big factor in its production, you know. I just… did what I do best.”

“Javi,” you avoid his eyes, focusing only on the slightly dirty joke by chuckling. 

“No, I mean it. Look at me,” he continues and only goes on when you give in and find his eyes. He places your palm against his cheek, “You are a brave woman. And so strong. Your body is so powerful.”

You swallow hard, clearly affected by those words because he knows the journey to receiving the gift of Inés has been a bumpy one. You both try not to think about that one particular night. You brush his cheek with your thumb, “Thank you, baby. And thank you for being such a wonderful father.”

It’s Javier’s turn to look away. He exhales deeply through his nose, “I don’t know about that. Do you think I’ll be whatever she needs?”

“Of course,” you turn your hand to run your knuckles along his face instead, “What are you worried about? Look at Lucas.”

“There’s so many things I’ll never understand being her father,” he says regrettably. He can feel his blood pressure spiking just thinking about the fact that someone will try to limit her for simply being born a girl. He thinks about his past, guilt rising in his throat at some of the things he has done during his years in Colombia when he jumped from bed to bed which now seem starkly at odds with raising a strong woman. 

He closes his eyes briefly, a deep crease on his forehead showing you that this is not just a passing thought but something that has been rooted into the bottom of Javier’s mind. Inés being born has simply triggered it to come out. He is struggling before you, feeling the weight of his newfound role as a girl dad. 

“You know, having a daughter is very special,” you say without getting a reply. 

His thoughts drift to the challenges ahead, imagining the countless ways society might try to define or confine his daughter. The world, he knows, can be goddamn unforgiving if he doesn’t live up to his responsibilities of teaching her resilience, to empower her to navigate a world where she might face things that he will never fully comprehend but will lie awake over if he misses the severity of them.

“Hey, heyheyhey. Javi,” you make him snap out of it, scooting closer to run your fingers through his hair. Your voice is soft and tender, “Where did you just go?”

“It was so easy with Lucas, I know, but I can’t help but worry if I’ll do wrong by Inés,” he confesses quietly, ashamed of these intrusive thoughts, “If I’m a good example of a man.”

“You are a fantastic father, Javier,” you stress and give him a sweet smile, a twinkle in your eye as you talk, “Wouldn’t have let you marry me and make babies on me if I didn’t think that you were a good man, you know. Give me some credit for choosing you.”

“You knew how to pick ‘em, huh?” He says with a smile, reassured. 

“And I should know about horrible fathers, baby,” you bump your noses together with a little laugh, “But seriously though. You parent with compassion and love. I wish I had had you growing up and I’m a girl, so yes, my opinion matters.”

Javier's smile widens, the tension in his shoulders easing as he listens to your words. He’ll always feel undeserving of your unwavering belief in him but right now, he just lets it soothe his soul.

“You always know how to make me feel better,” he murmurs and pulls you into an embrace, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that turns into several loving ones, the two of you using the little amount of free time you have to enjoy each other. Your belly touches his stomach which drives him crazy, your scent is everywhere, and he pants softly when the kissing ends.

“As long as I am half as amazing as you. You’re such a natural. I don’t know how you do it,” he says and gives you one last longing kiss. He gently runs his hand over your still-rounded belly, the skin marked with stretch marks, “I’m in fucking awe of you, Mamá."

"It’s just instinct, Javi. We both have it.”

“Don’t downplay it. You are the best mother they could ever–” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence when Inés makes a noise of complaint. He tenses up and listens, his eyes going toward the bassinet. You both hold your breath, waiting to see if she’ll settle back into sleep or if she needs attention.

When the soft whimper doesn’t turn into a more insistent cry, you are the first to speak. You tease lightheartedly, “See? Instinct.”.

“You know what? I’m just gonna check on her,” he carefully disentangles himself from you and moves over to the bassinet. You watch as he leans over and he can feel your gaze in his back as he watches Inés' chest rise and fall slowly. The joy of reunion is just the same each time he goes to look at her. Did the two of you really create something so incredible? He sighs in relief and reports to you, “She’s fine, probably just dreaming.”

“She’s asleep,” you pat the bed, “Now, come back to bed. I want you to hold me before Chucho drops Luke off tomorrow and we have to be four people in here.”

“No more quality time with my girls,” he pouts theatrically as he gets into bed again. He scoots closer to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. 

“We’ll have plenty of quality time, just a bit noisier,” you say with a soft laugh. You nestle against him, feeling the warmth and safety of his embrace. 

“Christ, I love you,” he whispers into your hair.

“Mhm,” you kiss his chest even if it’s on top of his t-shirt.

As you drift off to sleep in his arms, Javier feels excitement when he thinks about spending his first day as a family of four with you. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough, so he falls asleep until he is needed, knowing he’ll be there in less than a heartbeat.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[lulu2992]

I appreciate your time so much!! ♡

1.) Jacob wasn't married, but in your opinion, why do you think they kept the song only you and the music box in the game for him.

2.) The first time you meet the siblings, Individually Joseph isn't with faith and Jacob, but with john, he is do you think it's because be didn't trust him.

3.) Who was holly and Terry to john

4.)john mentioned a woman in they dlc that she gave him everything, but she made him angry. Did he kill her or just physically hurt her?

No problem :D

Question 1:

We indeed know from the lead writer that, before that idea was eventually scrapped, Jacob’s backstory was different: he had a wife and “Only You” was the song they danced to at their wedding. So why did they keep the song even though it seems it doesn’t mean anything special to him anymore?

Maybe it was too late or too inconvenient for the devs to pick a new one, or everyone still liked it, or there’s something very dark and ironic about turning people into mind-controlled killing machines using a love song, or they decided the lyrics didn’t really have to matter anymore, or maybe because, as Jacob suggests after Eli’s sacrifice, “only” the Deputy could have done it.

They are the chosen one in Joseph’s prophecy, so maybe they were also the person Jacob was waiting for all along and the song was always for them. He apparently believed his destiny was to die for Joseph and the Project so, in a way and as the lyrics say, only the Deputy could “make all this world seem right”, “the darkness bright”, and were his “destiny”.

As for the music box, it’s simply a conditioning tool, and it plays “Only You” because it’s still the song Jacob uses as an auditory conditioned stimulus, I guess.

Question 2:

Good question! You’re probably right because we also know Joseph personally contacted John to basically tell him to calm down and there’s no evidence of him doing the same for the other Heralds. An NPC also says she heard that, unlike Faith, John “never had the Father's full confidence” and, while she’s not a cultist and it seems to be a rumor, this is fiction and the line exists for a reason. That, plus the fact Joseph says the abuse his younger brother faced as a child turned him into “a monster”, “not perfect” and sometimes “not even good”, may explain why he came to the baptism. Judging from John’s reaction, it was a surprise inspection and he didn’t expect his brother to show up!

Deleted dialog also suggested Joseph may have come to this specific Cleansing because the Deputy was there, but I can see him wanting to keep an eye on John to make sure he doesn’t hurt people more than necessary too. By the way, it makes me sad he arrived precisely when John, who was apparently doing pretty good before seeing the Deputy, lost it for just a few seconds...

On a side note, I like to imagine that, canonically, since Jacob represents the Horseman of the Apocalypse riding the Red Horse of War from the Book of Revelation, which inspired Joseph’s prophecy, he was supposed to be the second seal to be broken and therefore the first Herald to die. That could not only explain why John is so angry upon seeing the Deputy and wants to hurt them, but also why Jacob is not angry at all the first time we meet him. I know he’s not as emotional as John, but if the Baptist is already dead at this point, I find Jacob oddly calm for someone who’s just lost the little brother he “always tried to look out for”, says an NPC who then adds, “Imagine what [Jacob]'s gonna do when he finds out you killed him.”

Question 3:

Who was Holly to John? In the novel Far Cry Absolution, someone he had a casual sexual relationship with. In the game, though? Nobody, it seems.

In Far Cry 5, we learn thanks to an NPC and even in the unused encyclopedia that there is (or was) someone named Holly in Hope County who joined the cult, but she lived in the Henbane River region when, in the novel, she was Will Boyd’s neighbor, implying she lived in the Holland Valley. Also, in-game Holly had a girlfriend named Charlie who is never mentioned in the book (she had an abusive husband instead).

Sure, you can find a note at the Pepper Residence that she supposedly wrote and in which a husband is mentioned, but I think it’s inconsistent with the rest of the information the game gives about her. It feels like they wanted to make it look like she was the same Holly as in Absolution... but I don’t think it works very well. Plus, we know Eden’s Gate forbade fornication (sex between unmarried people) so it feels very out of character for cultists to do that and openly admit it, especially John who is obsessed with sin and always seeking Joseph’s approval.

Who was Terry to John? Most likely another cultist, but I don’t know more. The only time he’s mentioned is in the note “Your Question”, which John wrote as a reply to him, but there is no information about Terry or what his question was. Did John even know him personally or did he call him by name simply because Terry’s note was signed?

I wish we knew more and I really want to know what he asked, but yeah, all we can conclude is that he was a cult member. I like to imagine he may be the “T.J.” who wrote this note (in John’s Gate), though:

LOST KEY Has anyone seen the weapons locker key? I spent the whole day caring for the new arrivals and lost it somewhere. Last thing I want is for John to find out. If one of you is playing tricks on me, cut it out! T.J.

It’s also very possible they’re two different people; I’m just “headcanoning” here!

Question 4:

What happened to the woman in the DLC is unclear but, since all John does in Collapse is cut people because of those “urges” he can’t control, we can assume that’s what he did to her. Did she survive? They don’t say it, but the fact they made John say, “They’re going to find out what I did to her” makes me think she can’t talk about that herself anymore and is probably dead...

I’m going to talk more about John’s characterization in Collapse and more specifically about how it influenced people’s perception of him and his actions in my reply to your other ask.

[fluffyfantasticducky]

Mischievous Matching

☆ Pairing: Loki x Mutant!Reader

☆ Synopsis: Loki is a trouble maker, always one to cause trouble, but he meets a mortal that is even worse than him and he finds himself absolutely powerless and victim of your stupid outdated pranks, but he finds himself to be putty in your hands.

☆ Word Count: 7,656 (good thing I didn't know what to do with this prompt, eh? This is just the second longest fic I've done.)

☆ Notes: My first request! Yay! 🥳Loki is a smitten little lee. I'm really bad at doing pranks so I did the worst and oldest pranks I remembered, because it's funny Loki not growing up on earth wouldn't know any of them. Also, it's not said outright, but in case of doubt the reader's mutation is super-elasticity because guess who started watching One Piece 👒🏴‍☠️.

☆ Warnings: Very bad and outdated pranks, other than that it's just pure fluff and flirting.

Loki thought he was smug. He had always been the smart brother, growing up constantly tricking an entire realm of Gods and Goddesses, he was very little used to people being smarter than him. Of course, he knew a couple of them existed, his mother was one he could never lie to. Odin more often than others saw through his deception and caught him playing pranks on Thor. But when you grow up in a Realm that values more your physical strength and at most your ability to come with war strategies… You come to believe you’re bound to become complacent, and it becomes a matter until… well, what always happens.

Loki would’ve never expected his match would come from Earth. Quite frankly, he had expected humans would always stay the same, kind of like Asgardians did. But they didn’t. Humans (for the most part at least) didn’t have magic or supernatural skills, so they chose to be inventive, they created modern civilizations purely thanks to the fact that humans chose to play smarter.

He wouldn’t admit it, now that Asgard settled on Midgard, and he got to see what humans did with technology… it was sort of admirable how much they had made purely with ingenuity. Only a bit.

There was Stark, who had made a technological empire and entire armies just with just machines, humans like the sanctuary where Strange lived or the Maximoff girl that had learned magic despite their incompatibility with it, or the bug hero’s mentor that figured a way to alter the size of matter itself. Not to mention the Avengers had managed to take him down, a God his ancestors used to venerate without question.

Perhaps some humans were in fact, formidable.

Still Loki could get away with a ridiculous number of things simply because a lot of humans were just that gullible. His illusions had already started wreaking havoc in small towns where his illusions had turned into rumors of what he learned humans called UFOs… although, to be completely fair, he was, by definition, an alien.

But the true meaning of formidable he found in you.

He met you one night he was allowed to visit New York and he decided to mess with passerby Midgardians. He simply sat on a bench of the park casted the illusion of a Ratatoskr and let humans do their thing. Truth to be told, while the creature wasn’t necessarily scary, it was gonna be interesting when the young ones noticed a talking squirrel and he saw some children excitedly trying to catch it, which may or may not have been actually endearing. But the real fun came when the parents became hysterical. Chaos ensued and Loki couldn’t hide a smile.

“That’s yours, isn’t it?” a voice asked, and you sat beside him.

He looked at you perplexed.

“It’s just… it kinda sticks out that you seem even more amused than the actual children playing with that. It’s supposed to be Ratatoskr, right?”

He didn’t expect anyone to notice, he had sat at enough distance that he couldn’t be related to what was going on, and he had a book on his hands so no one would relate his amusement to what’s going on.

The illusion vanished as he lost focus, surprised that you noticed him. He couldn’t hold back a soft laugh through his breath when a woman in her middle age let out a screech threatening to call the cops on an invisible talking squirrel. And to his surprise you laughed too.

“Man, I enjoy seeing your everyday soccer mom lose her marbles at whatever, but actively seeking their wrath takes courage.” You laughed.

You stretched out your hand and introduced yourself with a firm handshake which Loki surprised himself returning and giving away his actual name.

“W-Wait… like the Loki, Thor’s little brother… The Asgardian that… you know… over a decade ago did… you know?” you asked perplexed, not daring to say the actual thing.

Loki tense up, not knowing how you’d act next. For all he knows maybe the police force would end up showing up after all.

“Damn, so what they say is true” you shrugged. “You are a softie now.”

“What they say?” Loki gasped out indignant.

“Yeah, it was over the news a bit after the second snap, Ironman and your brother gave a press conference to explain you were in peace with Earth and it was Thanos’ brainwash.” You explained as a cheeky grin formed on your face. “Ergo, you are a softie.”

Loki was speechless. You knew who he was, you knew what he had done to New York, and yet you were poking the bear with a stick without an ounce of fear in your expression.

“Listen well, mortal, I–” Loki huffed.

“Pfft! I didn’t know Gods blushed.” You laughed heartedly.

“Hang on just a minute!” Loki protested as he became aware of the heat on his cheeks “I am–”

“Surprisingly fun to be around.”

He opened his mouth and closed it again as he found himself with no witty retort for your teasing.

“Thank you, I suppose” was all he could say, with less spite than he usually had when he spoke with mortals.

“I was gonna go grab a bite, wanna join? It’s a bit boring eating alone” you offered.

His stomach growled and he took the offer, partly because he was very hungry and both you had caught his curiosity. You were an odd one, that was for sure.

“So…” you wondered. “Is it true you’re staying with the Avengers?”

“Why do you wanna know?” he asked back.

“Curiosity” you smiled.

A question like that could’ve easily triggered an alarm, but for some reason it didn’t. And you didn’t lie.

“Yes, my brother decided to join the quarters to live with his friends and he took me with him” Loki admitted.

“Took you with him? Like an updog?” you arched an eyebrow in a way that made him feel slightly sheepish.

“Excuse me? What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“Updog.”

“What about it?”

“What is updog?”

“Not much, what’s up with you?” you wheezed before letting out a dorky laugh.

Despite the fact that the All-Speak did not allow him to understand a place’s lingo he understood he had fallen for a stupid Midgardian joke.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I had to try, oh… oh god, I hadn’t met a anyone who didn’t know that one yet, but I had to try. I like you already.”

Now he was convinced, you were definitely an odd one. Not only did you not fear him, but you were bold enough to pull practical jokes on him and teased him for falling for it. It got on his nerves.

But he couldn’t help but follow you around. You kept teasing him the entire trip to a sandwich shop.

“What do you want to eat?” you smiled.

Loki stared awkwardly at the menu, he recognized some of the ingredients, but he had never been to a place like this. And he wasn’t used enough to human food to make an informed choice.

So, you stepped up and asked him a couple of questions about the food he liked and made a choice for him.

“You can punch me in the arm if it’s not good” you winked at him.

Loki surprised himself smiling at you.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

But it was really good. It wasn’t anywhere near as refined as what he was used to eat, but it was surprisingly good. And you even paid for his food, which spared him the uncomfortable conversation over why he had no money despite leaving in a millionaire’s house.

“Hey, I live a bit far away, do you mind accompanying me home?”

Loki wasn’t sure why he accepted, but he found himself following you around, risking getting lost in New York City since he didn’t really know the area that well just yet. But he got on the bus with you and followed you home.

Which to his surprise… was the compound he himself lived in.

“Wait… D-Did you…?”

Loki felt betrayed. Of course. He should have known Stark would send an agent to find him, no one really trusted him, and they had to assign him a nanny to make sure he–

“I’m glad I ran into you” You spoke, interrupting his train of thought. “I still feel anxious coming so far out of the city alone, sorry if I cut your trip short.”

That caught him off guard. Were you not follow him? He didn’t sense a lie, but perhaps he was still a bit distracted.

“You mean you found me by accident?” Loki asked.

“Yeah, I’m not used to the headquarters being a home, so I need to get out to stretch my legs every once in a while. Otherwise, I feel… I don’t know.”

“Imprisoned.” You finished, as Loki’s lips let out the exact same word in almost a perfect synchronization.

Again, no lie.

“Hah… yeah” you smiled. “Sorry, I probably sound like a brat, complaining about living in such a big place.”

“No, I understand perfectly.” Loki found himself say in soft tone.

Loki walked with you inside and accompanied to your room. The sight when you opened the door was rather dismal. Just a small bed, a desk. But the bed was interesting, or more like what was on top of it. A stuffed little bear with a green bow on its neck, and a travel bag. He assumed they did go with Director Fury’s intention of having the trainees educated like soldiers until they completed their training.

After that day he felt more interested on helping with the training of newer recruits, thing he crushingly refused to do before meeting you. But it was his excuse to see you more. And as he imagined, you were among the best recruits. You weren’t the strongest, nor the fastest, and definitely not the tallest given some mutants came to be even taller than him. But you were agile and flexible, and you worked harder than anyone else to make up for any shortcomings you could have.

And you were smart, the smartest in the group. Loki had seen Stark give tests to the recruits and your results always came among the best, and more often than not, you were on top of those results.

“You did it again” Loki would congratulate you.

“It’s just a number on a paper” you always replied back, “that doesn’t mean I am going to be good on the world out there.”

“And yet your leg is bouncing with excitement” Loki pointed out.

You laughed and placed a hand to your knee to make it stop.

“The ego boost is still appreciated” you replied, a bit sheepish.

You were his favorite of all the recruits. Not that it was a title most competed for, a lot just gave him wary looks when it was his turn to train recruits, after all who wanted to have the man who once terrorized Earth as the class teacher. But you always helped to control the group, willingly volunteering for sparring with him for demonstrations and even while everyone else got a partner you chose him, even when that meant it’d be ten times more difficult than picking another mutant.

But once again, that allowed him to get closer to you.

“I’m telling you, it’s magic!” you assured him pointing to the water bottle as you sat next to him.

“Sure, it is.”

He knew you had no magic. He had read your files –for purely professional reasons, like personalizing– and knew of your abilities. But he also had no clue how you had shoved a coin bigger than the bottles neck all the way to the bottom.

But he didn’t like that playful giggle of yours, it always meant trouble.

“Look inside if you don’t believe me.” You said placing your eye on the bottle orifice to get a better look at the coin.

He sighed and mimicked what you had done, pressing his eye to the bottle’s finish to get a better look and see if he could figure something to get it out.

“I don’t see–”

In a second you had squeezed the bottle and splash him in the face. Which was noticed by a few recruits that let out quiet laughs, unlike you who were giggling shamelessly at his expense.

“You! You... traitorous, cheeky, despicable, insolent–” Loki huffed as he latched onto your ribs and squeezed them repeatedly making you double over in laughter.

You batted his hand gently after about a minute as you regained his composure.

“Oh god, you’re my favorite thing ever, it’s been years since these pranks stooped working on everyone else” you laughed.

Loki huffed. “I wasn’t living here years ago.”

“Oh, I know that’s what makes it funnier” you laughed and patted his shoulder.

Other trainees were looking at him amused, but he noticed they seemed a lot less tense now. As if some of that fear they had was gone. It was… weirdly nice. So, he just sighed and rubbed his face with sleeve to dry himself off.

“You cannot expect me to go easy on you after your little stunt” he asked as he stood up.

“Mm, it’s already, I like rough treatment anyway” you winked at him.

That made some other people in the room as Loki’s cheeks heated up lightly. But he still smirked.

“We’ll see about that in a few minutes, won’t we?”

You were also what humans called, the class clown. And your favorite thing was to prank him. It was all harmless stuff, like when you started a game the entire class to start a game every time, he used Asgardian or just outdated expressions like “Norns” or “Heavens.” Or that time you taped giant googly eyes to your chest, so he had a hard time giving a lecture as he got the urge to laugh every time he glanced at you, and even had the audacity to tell him, “Hey, my eyes are up here!” as you bounced, making the googly eyes bounce all over the place. That time where you filled his locker with confetti and balloons.

It was embarrassing because despite he’s nature, he had no way to get back at you. His illusions didn’t faze you one bit, and the concept of pranks for a god weren’t particularly safe for humans, your style was weirdly benign, and he couldn’t match it. And everything he tried repeating from your pranks wasn’t really surprising.

He used to think nothing could ever bother you at all… Until he was wrong.

He found you one night by the roof, sitting with your legs hanging on the edge, but the little border made a secure railing that kept you safe. You had been gone for hours, even skipping training, and he saw a half empty bottle of Vodka behind you.

“What are you doing here?” he asked as he sat beside you.

“Wasting time, and Tony’s reserves” you joked bitterly. “Watching the forest.”

“It is a lovely night” Loki admitted. “But you were missed at today’s sparring. It is obvious I’m not nearly as tolerable without you around.”

“Just relax, they’ve already warmed up to you” you sighed. “No one likes a stiff teacher.”

It was true hay whenever you made him laugh everyone else seemed to ease up as well. He always attributed to your natural charm and that you relished embarrassing him. But… people were a lot less wary around him lately.

“What made you skip?” he asked.

“It’s the 13th anniversary since my mutation manifested” you sighed and you reached your arm into the sky, it stretched for a few meters before it regained its normal shape.

“I thought people here celebrated that” Loki inquired. “You act as if a partner abandoned you.”

“I don’t know, I think I miss being normal… well, more normal” you chuckled humorlessly. “Not feeling like an actual monster.”

Loki could relate to that, realizing that you are different means you will never wake up with the same concept of yourself, because as it turns out, you are a mistake, a cosmic improbability and turns out, you’ve never been like anyone else around you.

“You are not monster, you’re a–”

“Oh right, because mutant sounds so much nicer.”

“Does it upset you?” Loki asked. “Being the way you are?”

“Yes. No. A little? I don’t know, it’s like a dream living in the Avengers home.” You sighed. “But… don’t you ever get the feeling that rather than wanting to have you around they’re just don’t want you to go rogue? I mean, I get it, with all that’s happening with the Banshee black market…”

Loki couldn’t help but laugh at that. If anyone understood what you felt, that was him. You were a mutant, which granted was becoming much more transcendental these days. More with the mutation enhancing drugs circulating, SHIELD and other organizations were putting a lot of energy to make sure less mutants went on a rampage. But none of you actually had major lists of crimes on their backs, unlike Loki. If anyone was being monitored that was Loki.

Even if he was technically an official Avenger already, it always felt like it was all because of his connection with Thor and at most that he was already highly trained, better than most other Avengers.

“I assure you that they do not think that of you.” Loki spoke reassuringly. “The Incorporations of Mutants Program is simply to remove mutants from a dangerous environment.”

“Yeah, free of Banshee and even add some mutant soldiers to their ranks, it’s a win-win situation” you spoke bitterly.

A part of him felt weirdly nostalgic. His mind took him back to the treasure vault of Asgard, his words reverberating on the walls: «So I am no more than another stolen relic, locked up, here until you might have use of me?» And now, more than a decade later, he found himself defending his father. This was just the same, you weren’t necessarily wrong… but it only a piece of the picture, the hurtful bit of a picture.

“You’re right to feel that way.” Loki spoke reassuringly. “But know that these people care about you… even if their original intentions aren’t as selfless. Trust me, I would know.”

“That’s surprisingly mature for a prince that’s technically younger than me.”

He felt his cheeks warming up to your comment and scoffed out a laugh. Of course, even in a vulnerable moment you wouldn’t let the chance pass to tease him.

“What can I say? I am not just devilishly handsome, charming, and tremendously intelligent,” he smiled, “there’s gotta be some wisdom to balance it all out.”

That made you laugh in that way that made his heart flutter in his chest. And before he knew it, you had rested your head on his shoulder. He felt his cheeks heat up and a smile make its way to his face. Had it always been so difficult concealing his excitement?

“You forgot humble and down to earth” you chuckled and rolled your eyes.

“What can I say, darling?” he smiled, “I’m a perfect man, I am completely irresistible.”

“And you still can’t get a date” you smile nudging his side.

“Not my fault there” Loki chuckled, “I’m quite particular when choosing a lover.”

“Right, and you being insufferable has nothing to do with it” you smiled as you grabbed his side and gave him a few squeezes.

The feeling made him jolt and let out a strangled gasp. Of course, you little brat always took advantage of this silly weakness of him ever since you found out.

He remembered the day you found out, quite vividly.

It was a holiday, so most recruits were out for a couple of days with either family, friends, or a new fling. Even some of the Avengers with friends out of the compound left for a few days. So, it was the super soldiers, the Maximoff twins, Vision, Thor, Loki, and you.

Your family had left for a trip, so you had no reason to leave the compound. Loki was thrilled that he would have you practically to himself. He felt those butterflies deep within his chest every time he saw you alone in a room. Of course, he kept his cool as best he could, still being the same mischievous charmer he’s always been, despite feeling like a giddy kid at the sight of you.

Even the most ordinary of mornings were blissful with you around. Even things like breakfast you could always make a monotone activities fun. Like right now, making Thor and the Maximoff twins laugh and sing around with you while you were whipping pancake mix on a bowl. It was some sort of little dance party while you cooked.

Loki couldn’t help but stare and chuckle softly.

“Loki, good morning” you smiled as poured some mix on a frying pan. “Wanna join us for breakfast?”

“Is it required for me to squirm around like a possessed worm like you’re doing?” he joked.

“Yes, it is imperative that you do, otherwise the pancakes will come flat” you quipped back with a cheeky smile.

“Come on brother, I know Midgard dancing is very different from what we used to see at home,” Thor intervened, “But it is quite fun, give it a try!”

“That’s the attitude, Thor-nderstorm” you grinned as you continued to dance.

“In that case I think I’ll just do with some coffee” he cleared his throat as he spoke.

“Come on, brother” Thor insisted, shameless —or rather, clueless— as usual. “It’s fun!”

“Hey, no shame if he can’t do it” you said, “Not everyone can dance.”

Loki laughed.

“If you call that «dancing», I’ll let you know I am actually a great dancer” he stated, just so you knew.

“Loki, if someone has to inform me of their traits, I have learned not to believe that.” You challenged him.

He looked away, focusing on the black liquid dripping into the coffee pot, trying to think of anything else that wasn’t you. Just the coffee, dark, bitter, that he had to keep himself from drinking before bed or it’d deprive him of sleep... Just the way you…

“ACK—!” he was brought back by the squeeze on his sides that made him jump and hold back a yelp.

He was ready to yell at Thor, when he saw the outstretched arms and you looking at him from the other side of the kitchen, the hands returned to your hips. Everyone was looking at him.

“Oh, you’re back” you saw his rosy cheeks a bit confused. “Honey?”

“Excuse me?”

“What do you want your pancakes with? Honey?”

“Uh- I… I- no… Um, I didn’t— I…” he couldn’t even look at you.

But you gave him a reassuring smile.

“I recall you like them with honey” you smiled, “It’s Thor that likes them with maple syrup.”

“That’s correct” Thor beamed happily.

“Don’t finish it all you hoarder” Pietro quipped as he wrestled with the blond for the bottle of syrup.

He sighed quietly, thankful that they had moved onto the next subject. He served himself his cup of coffee and just when he was going to turn around, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and that gently traveled all the way down his side and caused him to shiver.

He looked at you with daggers in his eyes before checking on the rest that were focused on eating and didn’t notice anything, thankfully. You just look at him and chuckled, before handing him a plate with neatly piled up pancakes with honey and some a small mix of berries you knew he liked.

“I didn’t know all Gods were so ticklish, I thought it was a Thor thing” you whispered. “…Good to know.”

You might as well have buried him alive after that. But, to his surprise you didn’t tell anyone. No one brought it up, not even Thor, who was already painfully aware of how cripplingly sensitive Loki was. No, and the anticipation killed him for the next day or two.

You didn’t bring it up once until one night you had the entire compound to yourselves. The doctor Foster had invited Thor over to «watch movies», not that anyone bought that for a second, the Scarlet Witch had gone on a date with the Vision, Barnes and Rogers were out on a party thing and had taken the Maximoff brother with him to further introduce him as part of the team. So, it was you and Loki completely alone.

You were reading on the couch on the weirdest positions, with your head upside down and the book inelegantly hanging on the air as you red upside down with your back arched as it seemed you’d fall out of the couch any second.

He grinned. It was the perfect chance to get you back. He made sure to be very quiet as he approached you and moved very slowly so you wouldn’t notice him —human earbuds were a blessing for his mischief, but they were not infallible— and right when he was towering over you. He squeezed both your sides.

“AAAAAAHHH!” you screeched as you fell off the couch.

Loki looked over to where you were laying on the floor where you had a hand over your heart.

“Loki! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” You scolded him.

What? No blush, no squeaky voice, no stuttering, no nervous shifting or even a giggle? No nothing? Were you that good at playing dumb? No way.

“What was that for?”

“I am sorry, I simply can’t resist when someone is vulnerable like that” Loki shrugged it off and sat on the couch, hoping you wouldn’t ask him to elaborate. “What are you reading?”

You sat back up next to him and showed him the baby blue book with pink letters and a couple kissing on the cover. One of those romance novels you liked.

“Is that the one you told me about?” Loki asked.

“It’s the one” you grinned and noticed the book beside him. “What are you reading?”

“Just old Asgardian poetry” he said, showing you the book, despite knowing you don’t speak Asgardian. He noticed the look you gave him, with an arched eyebrow and a smug grin, “It’s old even for me. Just old love poems.”

Your eyes sparkled like absolute diamonds, and you scooted closer to him, your face just inches from his. “Can you read one to me?”

He felt his cheeks flush at your excitement, and the clumsiness. But he cleared his throat and opened it on the poem he was reading. But he decided to be smug and read it just like it showed, in old Norse.

“Oh, so funny.” You growled and jabbed his sides.

Loki nearly jumped out of his skin and barked out a laugh. A laugh that didn’t go unnoticed given you quickly followed that same movement that had made him squirm. He very did a very poor job at concealing his reaction.

His brain quickly felt fuzzy, he could feel his restrained laughter echoing in his chest, and even still a few snickers were slipping out. His arms felt like worms just clumsily trying to find your hands to push you away. His face was impossibly hot and surely a dark shade of red at this point. His mind was on its knees begging for him to succumb and allow his body to laugh. And that’s exactly what he did when your hands sneaked past his arms and gently wiggled against the skin on his armpits.

“Wahahait! Stohohohop that!” he laughed.

“So that’s what your laugh sounds like” you teased him. “Hm… it’s actually kinda cute.”

“Stohohop this or ehehehehelse!” he latched his hands to your forearms but found that he didn’t even have the strength in himself to push you away.

Maybe it was that subliminal fear that he knew how fragile humans were. Maybe he was just that stupidly ticklish. Or… maybe your fingers were warm, and soft… and you had never given him this much attention.

He had fallen back on the couch, and you sat on his waist, straddling him with your legs on each side, and your hands were now exploring every bit of his torso to see what got him to laugh the hardest, your eyes were looking for every reaction, and your words were dedicated solely to tease him. He truly had you all for himself right now.

And it was driving him crazy.

“Mohohohortal! Cease this ahahahahat once!” he cackled. “It’s ahahahahan ordeheher!”

“Oh?” you smiled in a made that made his insides tingle, “I don’t think you’re in any position to make that call~”

Your thumbs dug into his hipbones that made him arch his back as he let out a loud screech and followed by a stream of guffaws. You laughed along with him, and it almost made this torture worth it.

Worth it, not more bearable.

“Plehehehease, no more! I surrender!” he laughed as he clumsily slapped your forearm in what he had learned was a sign of giving up.

“Wait, seriously” you asked, a bit surprised that you had actually gotten to him.

“Yehehehes, please, I yieheheheld!”

And thank gods it worked. You immediately stopped tickling him and helped him sit back up.

“You okay there?” you smiled at him, and his only response was tackling you to try getting some well-deserve revenge.

Ever since that night you had tormented every once in a while, by tickling him silly whenever you felt like it. But somehow you always had the decency to make it behind closed doors, where no one could see him laughing like an idiot at the mercy of a mortal simply tickling him. And… laying on your bed at late hours was very much worth it, the books he brought to read for you could always wait.

Loki and you chatted for a few hours and soon you sober up enough which relaxed Loki enough, but he noticed your conversation turned more melancholic, contrasting with your grumpy drunk rant earlier. You talked about your family, old jobs, and a department you owned before moving in on the compound.

“Can I tell you something funny?” you smiled sadly, and he nodded. “I miss being ticklish.”

“Well darling, I think that’s been enough alcohol for you.” Loki said as he grabbed the bottle and made it vanish away from you.

“I mean it!” you laughed.

“You’re insane.”

“It’s… I used to laugh so easy… Now every poke, every squeeze, every jab…” you poked your side and your finger sunk in your skin. “It’s… I don’t know… absorbed? I don’t feel anything like I used to.”

He remembered, the time you tickled him silly, how he attempted to get revenge, and how poorly it ended for him.

He latched his hands to your sides and squeezed you thoroughly. He crawled his hands over your belly, he pinched your ribs, and skittering his fingers under your arms. He experimented on every inch of your body.

But at most you gave him a soft breathy laugh, more amused than ticklish induced.

“Sorry Loki, I’m not that ticklish” you smiled trying to be apologetic, but you seemed more amused.

Your armed stretched and wrapped in circles around his bicep to pin his arm upward and still stretched enough to reach and tickle under his arm.

Needless to say, this time he didn’t get a break so easily.

“I doubt there is any actual downside to being the way you are” Loki encouraged you, “I’d give anything to not be… you know…”

“Cripplingly ticklish?” you smiled and elbowed his side making his face flush.

Norns, where had the days gone when he used to be a charming silver-tongued flirt? He used to be swooning men, women, and mythical beings alike, but your silly teasing for some reason had him blushing like a young boy.

“I-It’s… not how I would have phrased that…”

“I would” you cut him off with a giggle and poked his ribs, making him jump and barely hold back a squeak. A squeak.

“Right… Nowhere near the point I was trying to make” he sighs.

“I know… I just miss that intimacy” you sighed.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, tickling was fun when I was little, it’s a nice way of being close to others” you sighed as you rested your head against his shoulder. “And I wish I could have that. Usually I get «no, it’s unfair since you’re not ticklish» and well… No more fun for me.”

Close to others.

He gulped at the warmth of your body as you leaned on him. His heart was racing, his hands were sweaty, his face was burning, he felt a knot in his throat and his breath was hitching.

“Tickle me then.”

“What did you say?!”

What did he say?!

Loki had been through the toughest training regimes growing up, he’d been deadly injured in battle countless time before he even turned 1000 years old, he’d withstand the most merciless tortures, and had been clinically dead more than once. But ever since he was little the one thing he couldn’t stand, was getting tickled. It was so bad to the point where the only people who could tickle him were his parents and Thor… who also had the advantage of being about three times stronger than Loki.

He remembered vividly the last time he was tickled past his limit he had lost control of his magic and unintentionally sent Thor to the healing room for two days (although he had been too proud to admit it had been an accident). The fact that you had left your last encounter tickling him unscathed was a miracle.

“Are you serious?” you asked him, looking at him suspiciously.

Truthfully, he didn’t know if he was. He was so convinced he hated being tickled, that he couldn’t understand why the idea actually felt… Exciting? Appealing? He tried convincing himself it was just the idea of having your hands on him.

“Yes, how bad can it really be?” Loki nearly wanted to die when he felt his voice crack in nervousness, and he had to clear his throat. “You’re just a human, after all.”

“Oh, is that so?” you chuckle. “Mm, I might take you on that offer then.”

You squeezed his side and his breath hitched.

“W-Wait, don’t!” he gasped and grabbed your hand.

“Oh, here better?” you grinned and used your other hand to squeeze above his knee, which made him jolt and grab your other hand by reflex.

“Gods, you do not make this easy” he chuckled softly.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable” you smiled genuinely. “I still appreciate the intention.”

The disappointed look on your face was all the motivation he needed, he pulled you towards him and sat facing you, guiding your hands to his sides as he felt his face burning. How terminally insane had he gone?

“Do it before I change my mind” he said firmly.

“Pfft!” you giggled, “You’re crazy.”

“It would seem so” he smiled. “Let’s get this over with…”

You chuckled and you started skittering your fingernails along his sides. Loki’s jaw tensed immediately as he felt his lips started twitching upward.

“Aww… you’re so ticklish, Loki” you smiled as you kept tracing your fingers up and down his sides, from his hips to his upper ribs. “It’s so charming.”

He cursed his choice of wardrobe today, and Midgardian fashion in general, he could have used a good layer of his Asgardian leather armors. Now a cotton shirt and black jeans served him very little as your finger tormented his sides.

And he was starting to giggle already.

“Yohohohou’re such a pehehehehest!”

“C’mon… it is pretty cute how you laugh,” you smiled, “your voice is so deep but your giggles are so light.”

“I’m nohohohot cute! Hehehe- Hey! Dohohohn’t touch thehehehere!” he giggled when your hands wiggled towards the sides of his belly.

“Oh, your pwetty tummy is so ticklish, isn’t it?” you cooed doing bloody baby talk, “You so cute~”

“Stohohohohop!” he guffawed. “Do nohohot patronize mehehehe!”

He hated how well you had learned how sensitive his stomach was. You had tickled him about three times total prior to this peak of insanity, but the weak spot that was his entire abdomen didn’t go unnoticed from the first time.

“I’m sorry, it’s so hard not to tease you when you have such a cute way of laughing.”

“I’m nohohohohot! Stop sahahaying that!” he protested between laughs.

“You should see yourself” you smiled at him. “The way you scrunch up your nose and stick your tongue out ever so slightly is so endearing!”

“Shuhuhuhut up!” he laughed as he bent over to try protecting his belly from your fingers.

You were being so gentle to him, simply skittering your fingers over his shirt. Being anyone else, that might have just gotten a few giggles out, but he was so ridiculously ticklish, especially there. That this delicate taunt to the skin had him hysterical.

“No mohohohore!” he pleaded, “Not thehehehere!”

“Not where?” you asked innocently. “Here?”

And you poked gently over the patch of skin right below his navel.

“Cuhuhut it out! Gehehet away from my stomahahahach!” he cackled, “I’m behehegging you!”

For some reason you decided to listen and move from his gut, moving to poke and knead his ribs, even doing those unbearable ticklish pinches around him.

You had a hellish ability to have him in stitches.

It kept going for a while, you would explore a spot, have him giggling like a child and then move onto the next to start over, not giving him a chance to get used to any sensation or spot.

“Dahahahahahahahaharling, plehehease!” he laughed, “thahahat’s so bahahahad!”

Seemingly that phrased worked and it stopped you giving him the chance to catch his breath, he placed a hand over his chest, feeling it rise and fall as he tried refilling his lungs with air.

“You little imp!” Loki panted “I was being so nice to you!”

“So was I” you smiled, “I’ve tickled you before, you know how bad it can be.”

Surely you were right, but the way you said it, almost like a promise, made Loki’s cheeks flare up, not that it would’ve been noticeable given how his face was flushed from laughing.

“You’re a menace” he chuckled, as he ruffled your hair “How come I’ve grown so fond of a little nuisance like yourself?”

“What can I say? I’m irresistible like that” you laughed as you rested your head against his arm.

He chuckled as he felt a lingering warmth spreading from where you were resting against his arm to his chest.

“Maybe you are” he sighed with a smile. If only you knew.

“Loki… can I ask you something?” you looked up at him.

“What is it?”

“Are you happy… living here?” you asked. “Or… have you never thought of running away?”

His face darkened. It made sense, but the idea of you thinking of him as a potential traitor stung worse than every awful thing said to or by him in stupid fights with Thor or his parents when the arguments got heated.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, you lived in a castle, with luxury, prestige, fame and power” you spoke, “isn’t this too little for you? Don’t you feel trapped?”

Now that reasoning he didn’t expect. He smiled at you fondly.

“You make me sound like a spoiled brat” he chuckled.

“Aren’t you?” you chuckled.

“Of course not, I am the epitome of humility” he claimed, making you laugh. “But… answering to your question… I used to feel trapped, every day I’d be plotting my escape, how to make my great escape.”

“And we won't hear a word they say…” you chuckled.

“What?” he smiled.

“Nothing, The Great Escape is a song, continue” you smiled.

“And trust me… at first… I tried, they didn’t take long to catch me analyzing their security systems and patrolling schedules in a chance to sneak out. I was given so many last warnings and caused Thor so much trouble. Until… eventually I realized… I had nowhere to run to” Loki spoke sadly, “And eventually I stopped trying, this was all I had, and I had to make the best of it. At least my brother was around…”

“Aw, so you do care about Thor” you smiled as you nudge his side.

“I did not say that, and you are not to tell him that” Loki spoke in a fake seriousness. “His ego is big enough as it is.”

“Oh, you’re criticizing him about his big ego.” You laughed, and Loki’s heart fluttered, “You should tell him, he would be very happy that his little brother loves him.”

“Perhaps I will one day” Loki smiled, resting his cheek on the top of your head. “Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted…”

“Diva” you muttered under your breath, making Loki chuckle.

“…Eventually I resigned to living here,” he continued. “And one day, the Incorporation of Mutant Program was introduced.”

“I’m still not over the fact that we were named the IMPs” you laughed, making Loki snicker.

“Are you kidding? That was the only thing I considered salvageable of you all at the time.” Loki joked, earning a poke on the ribs from you, “…Among the other Avengers I was requested to instruct the recruits. Which I refused to do.”

“And then you met me” you smiled.

“And then I met you.” Loki agreed. “Which made it all more bearable, you at least provided me with some challenge and entertainment.”

“That’s a really twisted way to say you like me” you chuckled.

If you only knew…

“Would you believe me if I said I did?”

“That’s fair.”

The triggered something in him, a moment of bravado that made him want to risk everything and tell you.

“Are you sure of that?” he asked, as he gently placed a finger under your chin, and pulled for you to look at him. “Even if I said you drive me completely crazy?”

Oh, the look of shock that adorned your now blushing features was delicious.

“Even if I said that I think about you on every waking moment, and that just for the sake of that smile of yours I’d withstand the most barbarous tortures… That for the longest time now you’ve had my heartstrings wrapped around your fingers, playing me like a puppet at your will just for the sake of you one day maybe looking at me the way I look at you.”

“What…? Wh— L-Loki… I— you—!” you stuttered.

Your face was red, but you didn’t seem repelled by his confession. Thank goodness. He thought maybe giving you some time to organize your words was the best thing he could do.

“Why me?” you finally asked.

“Why not?”

“I’m not particularly strong, powerful or attractive” you stated. “Even among just the other recruits.”

“I beg to differ, it takes a lot to render a god helpless like you did earlier.”

“Because you allowed me to” you retorted.

“Because I am crazy about you” Loki said gently.

“Why?”

“You’re stubborn, you get on my nerves all the time, you question and defy my authority every chance you have, and you have no fear of the consequences of crossing a god, especially one with my history.” Loki chuckled. “That takes a lot of courage.”

You smiled at him shyly, and oh gods, the amount of self-control it took not to tackled you and kiss the daylights out of you was ridiculous.

“You are funny, and witty, you have these innocent eyes that make me want to blindly believe you every time you pull one of your stupid pranks on me.”

“And you fall every time” you smiled as the pink shade returned to your cheeks.

“I fall every time” he whispered with a gentle nod. “I fall every time you smile, every time you laugh and every time you look at me as if I was someone interesting and worth getting to know better.”

“You are worth getting to know better… Hell, you’re worth risking a friendship for…”

“Risking a friendship— Mmph?!”

Before he could process what you had done he was already melting against your lips that were sweetly pressed against his.

He felt your fingers sneaking behind him, brushing gently against his neck, which made him laugh softly against the kiss before they continued their journey to his head, where they started playing with his hair in a way that caused him to swoon. In return he placed his hands on the small of your back, brushing his thumbs against you.

And you let out a giggle.

“What was that?” he asked amused.

“W-Wait, do it again!” You smiled brightly.

Loki smiled and brushed his fingers gently across your back and you let out a little giggle.

“It tickled!” You exclaimed.

“Oh did it…?” he smiled and experimented by gently scratching your sides and belly, just soft caresses with his blunt nails over your skin.

And you were giggling like a happy kid.

“Would you look at that…” Loki taunted you. “The little springy mortal is ticklish after all.”

You just rested against his chest as he tickled you, not protesting or squirming at all, just happy giggles. He supposed it made sense, pokes, squeezes, and jabs did nothing, but your skin was still sensitive enough to react to caresses, and it turned out it was all he needed. He took his sweet time exploring every little spot on your body that made you giggle.

Perhaps tickling was fun after all.

| Masterpost |

[bonefall]

How does Fallenleaf feel about how Ivypool and Dovewing were treated? And what do the latter think about her (Dovewing especially, since i imagine she was compared to her a lot when it came to the prophecy. I can definetely see an exasperated Jayfeather going 'Well Hollyleaf took the prophecy seriously before- when we thought she was part of it). Come to think of it, I can see Dovewing resenting Fallenleaf not only for the comparisons made about her, but also the fact that Jayfeather and Lionblaze let their sister know but she can't tell Ivypool even as they grow more distant. (Granted, Hollyleaf was told BEFORE they realized she wasn't part of the prophecy, but who knows if Dovewing is privy to that. >:3c)

Their relationship is, uh...

Skip back 100 years ago, Holly Leaves the Tyrant ruining ancient society.

She killed Jay Wing with her own two paws, drove Lion Roar out through grief, and then tried to stop Dove Wing from taking the survivors to the mountain

Dove Wing beat her ass. Handed it to her on a silver platter. Folly Leaves could break her brothers, but NOT Dove Wing.

Fallen Leaves for 1,000 seasons in a tunnel: "thank god i never have to see that random person who mcfuckin wrecked me ever again i think i would die of embarassment and/or fear"

Lionblaze, modern day: "we missed you so much... we were terrified when you acted like that, I thought I killed you when we... well... it's time to put that behind us. Are you prepared to meet your nieces? ...i raised them. If you hurt them I'll never forgive you."

Dovewing: (IS THAT RANDOM GUY WHO KICKED HER ASS)

And then Fallen learns Cinderheart went through with the plan to raise them with Lionblaze so Poppyfrost could have access

But that Poppyfrost did not TAKE that access.

So basically Cinderheart went through all this for nothing

AND on top of all the other new information (and she can't entirely remember where she "left off." Was that one's name ALWAYS Honeysnake??)

One of those things is the prophecy. That was only revealed shortly before the Fire Scene in BB, and then the Fire Reveal, Firestar dying, the Gathering Reveal, uhh... what was the gray guy she killed's name again? Asterfall??

Her freakout before getting time travelled is the fuzziest part of her life, she can barely remember half of it and the order of events is totally scrambles egged. Did the fire happen before or after her grandpaw died??

But meanwhile Dovewing's been raised her whole life with Fallenleaf as like, this big missing piece in everyone's lives, she wanted to know the truth about her for her entire existence. Hollyleaf was an impossible standard to live up to, her mother's true love and her Firekin's prodigal child before her.

And now she can't. Because this is obviously not Hollyleaf. This is a big, confused shadow. That's FRUSTRATING. Dovewing is trying really hard at this point to not show how upset she is about this. You mean to say the sad ghost she could hear shuffling around in the tunnels her whole life was her long lost aunt all along?!

THIS is what she was being held up to, all her life? This is why she could never take a break? This is the fuss? Some Fucking Guy?!

Meanwhile Ivypool is trying to mimic the feelings her parents feel. She takes a lot from Lionblaze, desperate to signal to them that she's in the family and cares about the same things they do. I don't think she really feels much of anything towards Fallenleaf at first-- but if they all care together then it feels like they've "come together"

And Dovewing's lack of enthusiasm, or even desperately veiled frustration, is like betrayal. CARE with me, we're supposed to FEEL GOOD about this AS A FAMILY. And if you can't then WELL WELL WELL look who's WINNING AT CARING ABOUT THIS, something very NORMAL and POSSIBLE to do! Surely, I am the better daughter, actually.

And while all that's playing out, Fallenleaf is still like, absolutely haunted by Dovewing being that random person who kicked her ass. She deserved it but like... she killed her brother in an ancient epoch and it turns out his sister in another lifetime is now his daughter in this one. What the fuck. And she looks at her negatively EXTRA what the fuck

I want them all to have a few good scenes together, but I don't think their relationship to Fallenleaf is... strong.

She ends up marrying their mom, Cinderheart. I think for Dovewing, she DOES actually think that's nice for them.

But Ivypool feels threatened. She feels she's going to get replaced.

This is while Lionblaze also ends up moving on with Toadstep, mind you. Both parents are finding new mates and having new kits

Ivypool takes it especially poorly, Dovewing has complicated feelings.

Isn't it just peachy that Cinderheart and Lionblaze COULD have been good parents all along? They just weren't, for you?

Hollylark is their half-sib through CinderxHolly, and Snaptooth and Flywhisker are adopted half-sibs through ToadxLion

When Fallenleaf learns the full story, she feels sorry for how the two were treated. She would controversially support Dovewing's leave; but she isn't the type to do huge confrontations anymore. Since her time as a Tyrant, she has a sort of godly, detatched air about her.

So there wouldn't be any chewings-out of her brothers. She doesn't have that sort of confidence in her own judgement anymore. Trying to control others and tell them how they should sort out their problems caused the Kitty Bronze Age Collapse lmao

[rocksibblingsau]

"Death is tragic, but sometimes living can be so much worse."

So..... same anon that send the rant ask that this come from and I just have to say how good this is. Like unbelievably so and everything from your response as well, I cant say this enough I love your writing and how you interpret trolls and their world

Honestly, you're so right that they likely had that "hes in a better place now" (pun not intended), it fits so well with what we know about pop trolls mentality and life-style. The same trolls that erased and forgotten everyone that was lost during the escape, including the heir, would also accept a little brother as dead and go on without checking so they can better ignore the grief of losing him. Thinking about it, thats a way better and in-character reason why Floyd never came back

People say that he was out partying or he forgor or whatever, but the thought that some 3-5 years later he stopped to think and realized "oh... hes probably dead by now", and now having to choose between confirming the "reality" that his brother died waiting for him or just moving forward, be happy and never think about things that upset you (that just pop trolls second nature at this point)

There is a part of me that still wants to write Brozone facing that grief either by having to save Floyd without him or reuniting some other way, now with the added against of "everybody including you forgot your brother ever existed, isn't that fun!". Thinking about it, I may even write that Branch died in the woods or something instead of the bergens. He didn't die because they left him in the tree, he died because they never came back for him. And the same mentality that "helped" them "grief" (read: ignore) his supposed dead is the same mentality that caused the pop village to ignore and ostracize him (that being what actually killed him). Tragic, gut-punching, hope they surfer and cry about it :)

But for my actual headcanon of the brothers mentally during those 20 years, I can only imagine your view of the situation is just that good and accurate. Thank you for entertaining my thoughts and sorry for the rambles lol

Thank you! I love overanalyzing things, and Trolls is a very fun subject to work with!

It's very in line with Pop mentality to just accept that and move on. Bruce especially lives on Vacay Island where "every day is a vacay". I could see a bit of that mentality existing there. Maybe not the 'sugar coat everything in glitter' degree but 'why worry?' type of ignore your problems.

Branch dying on his own rather than in the tree I think is a way more terrifying reality. Hundreds of Pop Trolls were eaten, and that's seen as the Bergens fault. Branch getting injured and having no one to check in on him so he passes is on the village. It's been mentioned in Rock Sibblings but the fact is, that was a reality Branch faced. Poppy likely would've come by EVENTUALLY but she was younger than him.

In Rock Sibblings the truth is if not for Poppy deciding to follow after him, no one would have ever known what happened to Branch. In Techno Branch and Classical Branch, no one actually does until 15ish years later.

With his brothers, it's sad to say that with an alive Branch, there's very little that could have them initially realizing that Branch is hurt. I mean look at him in Trolls Band Together. He's not fully grey but he's very drastically darker than they all are despite initially all having the same skin tone. Yet none of them react or mention it. They're fine to ignore the situation at hand.

Never apologize for rambles. That's what we do here.

[kerubimcrepin]

Live-read: Dofus Heroes - Kerubim Tome 1 (part 1)

You can find this comic's physical version on Ankama's site, webtoon version on Allskreen, and Free Scans on various file-hosting websites that shall not be named.

Quick disclaimer: While I will be including french screenshots here, because it is a language that uses the latin alphabet, and everyone has that on their keyboards, all ready to type up in DeepL and Google translators — what I will actually be reading is a new fan translation in my native language, which does not use latin alphabet.

Time to quickly switch between two tabs because nobody has translated this comic into English. Yaay...

This comic has, as my fellow crepinjurgenology studies colleague @dullard put it, "thin god Ecaflip jumpscare"

Ecaflip looks a lot like Ush here, and I think it's way too malevolent. Part of the fun of him to me, is that he is an Evil Fucking Cat that looks like a cute cat. It makes his despicable actions more funny & interesting.

...Anyway, this comic came out during the run of the show, in 2013, and its sheer existence, — including its negative portrayal of ecaflip, its inclusion of blood and Kerubim's 20 mental illnesses, — is a direct confirmation of the show being an unreliable narrator story. (Though, we've been knew.)

This comic's most important function for this blog is that it will provide us with a well-needed glimpse at what Kerubim's adventures are like when he isn't retelling them to a 7-year-old child whose respect and approval he desperately craves.

The second Kerubim is fatally wounded, he gives up. Yet, Ecaflip saves him, without using one of his nine lives, just as he did in the Wheel of Destiny article.

I suppose it's one of his trump cards, isn't it?

But I am more interested in how at peace Kerubim is with death... It does make sense for Kerubim to hide some rather morbid feelings about his life behind his cheery facade, doesn't it?

It must be tiring. Losing your family, being a god's plaything, losing your brother, feeling like you have to constantly play the role of the cool womanizing warrior, and never unpacking your emotions about any of it. Death would feel like a relief from such weight.

Which makes Ecaflip's grip on his life feel more malicious.

I know, chances are, this comic, as well as most of the show, were made well before Kerubim's demigod status was thought of as a plot-point.

But even in terms of him being a demigod... I think that death would seem relaxing, despite its temporary nature, wouldn't it?

One of the main things of this whole comic is that Kerubim gets amnesia.

Harry Du Bois-ass character. Not only is he mentally ill, divorced, and has 20 layers of sad backstory, but also he got amnesia. God bless.

Yeah, this comic is more realistic and gritty than the show, but the cartoon shenanigans are still real. Thank god.

There's a reason why I think that a big part of Kerubim's character is his experiences with loneliness and isolation, and the way it makes him crave being loved and cared for, as well as how it makes him act out to get attention and popularity.

It's telling that while completely amnesiac, he identifies immediately with a small kitten, whom he immediately assumes is a "he" and "an orphan", and wants to take care of it.

It may seem like an innocuous moment at first, but "he is all alone" will become a reoccurring motif for Kerubim's mental state and subconscious in this comic, and it is the comic where we get the Orphan Kerubim reveal.

I already discussed the fact that I think Kerubim kept and adopted Joris due to Atcham-related guilt earlier on the blog, but I will take this moment to voice 2 other reasons:

Kerubim identifies with orphans and children easily. He would never leave Joris alone after looking at him and thinking "You're all alone. Like I was."

The idea of having a child would be very pleasant to someone as lonely as him. He struggles a lot with wanting to act in a way that will make people like him, and children are, by nature, inclined to like their parents even if they're complete losers.

Btw, if you follow my main, @joris-jurgen , you probably know that I headcanon Kerubim as having comorbid HPD and BPD. Because it fits. And because personality disorders are usually the result of insane levels of childhood trauma. And... my experience running this blog has so far not swayed me from this opinion in any way. This little paragraph was your Armchair Fictional Psychology Corner. This man can fit a lot of sadness and wanting to be loved in him.

Ecaflips confirmed to, just like real cats, have very good night vision.

...Aaand now I'm thinking about cute scenarios of Kerubim, Atcham, and Joris travelling at night, or navigating their home in the darkness.

(Because Joris doesn't have human eyes, as we've seen from the movie. And considering the way Grougaloragran's eyes reflect light in the Oropo ova, chances are, dragon eyes glow in the dark, the same way cats do. Which brings me to the point that, Joris's dragon-ish eyes would probably glow in the dark. Like a cat. Yeah, I am very sane, and should not be sedated in any way, readers.)

Crocosec has always wanted to have a butcher's shop and feed people with delicious food...

Ah, I don't know why, but my silly little detail-noticing from the first eps, where I pointed out that he has a meat shop, paying off? It makes me feel fuzzy. It's nice to know that the person who wrote this comic cared enough, and that it's something that was put in here with intent.

Anyway, I am about to be very normal about the next few pages.

*jumpscaring you by including a screenshot from the high-quality scanlation I am reading. Because this moment would be too blurry if I didn't.

He isn't even playing with any other kids... This is going to kill me, and not in a fun way.

The translation I am reading interprets the last line as "I would return to..." but it seems a bit wrong to me, especially considering my own research on language sentence-comparing sites.

What Kerubim pretty much says here, is that, he'd like to become a huppermage, and use magic to bring back his parents, sisters, and brothers.

While one could interpret that as Kerubim being lonely while being raised in an orphanage all his life without a family, I have a couple of counterpoints:

He calls the kitten "orphaned" specifically, which implies that there were parents, and that they aren't there anymore.

If it were just a family he wanted, he wouldn't be as specific as to say "sisters and brothers," besides just "parents," which leads me to assume that Kerubim means specific people he used to know (before they died).

3. Atcham is a Crepin too, as was revealed in the Dofus Movie. Logically speaking, if they were both given to the temple after being born, (and as we know, Atcham was at the temple, because Bashi knew him, according to Wheel of Destiny #8) they probably wouldn't have surnames, especially the same one.

4. Kerubim's unfunny joke about being the last in his family.

5. Wakfu: One More Gate's shopkeep being an ancestor of the Crepin family implies that Crepins are a real family that existed, and that, perhaps, Kerubim's affinity for selling stuff has to do with his early upbringing, before he was orphaned.

6. In the Dofus manga, Atcham says that a sword he owned, which was stolen from him, has been "passed in his family for generations", which yet again, points to them having a family to begin with.

All of this to say... What I think happened was far more devastating.

He had sisters and brothers, and two parents — it doesn't matter if the Crepin family was an adoptive one, or if it was made up of their biological mother, her husband, and half-siblings. Because they're all dead, and that's just... horrible.

A whole family, at the very least 6 people (if we assume that by "sisters and brothers", he means just two sisters and two brothers), wiped out.

...Oh, and one last thing.

7. I think that, as an adult, Kerubim did put some research into dark magic, with a hope of bringing his family back.

Just as he said he would.

....Though, as always, that might just be me reading too much into things. ╮(￣ ▽ ￣)╭

These aren't the tears of an orphan who wishes he had a family. These are tears of grief of a child who used to have one.

And Ecaflip, his biological father and God, is taunting him about it.

...I would speak on my deeplore conspiracy theory that perhaps Ecaflip himself is to blame for whatever happened to Kerubim and Atcham's family, — to get Kerubim, or both of them, isolated, and under his thumb, — but perhaps it's just me being actually clinically insane.

[barok-vanzieks]

Since your darling apprentices came home, the bill ought to come due, Barok van Zieks. One final question, and because it's in your best interests, I swear to you that none who share your blood will be able to see this thread.

Your brother: your emotions toward him are a braided mass of sorrow and joy, mirth and despair. I find it difficult to pick through, to understand the chaos of your warring emotions. My final requested answer is an explanation. What do you feel for him, in as complete an answer you may give, for both the fair and the foul?

-@chaosofshadow

...Very well. I suppose I have delayed this for quite long enough now, and I have had much time to think on the subject. You wish to know how I feel about my brother? Here is the fair and the foul, laid bare for you to witness and to judge.

For ten years, I lived without my brother. For ten years, I cherished the unblemished memory of him; a hero of the people, a paragon of fairness and justice. For ten years, I mantled the echo of his heroism, nearly crumbling beneath its weight. For ten years... I hated for him.

And then... With the ten-year-anniversary approaching... I learned the truth at last. My brother... A murderer. The very murderer, in fact, whom I had so despised for the past decade—in his name.

All those I prosecuted, and the weight of the title I carried... All of the pride, all of the pristine sorrow, all of the hatred... Tainted.

My brother tried to tell me, long ago, that there was a demon inside him... I dismissed the idea. And for a decade after his death, I stood by this dismissal. Yet, when the heavy fog was dispersed at last, not only did I learn that he did in fact have such a demon; I stared at my own visage in the mirror, and I saw within my features... another monster. Not by the same name, not at risk of committing the same unforgivable deeds. But nevertheless, a monster who had convinced himself he was merely a victim. And this realisation shook me to the core.

I believe we all have them, these monsters. Some battle theirs. Some succeed, others lose. Some never need to learn whether they would be victorious or not. Some embrace them willingly. And others... simply give in.

When I learned that my brother had found a way to communicate with us from beyond the grave, I was... conflicted. The dead should stay dead; it is the natural order of things, and in Klint's case, I knew that his presence would create waves of discomfort and pain for those around me.

And yet, I am merely a man. A man who once loved his brother more than anything else on this Earth. A man who, despite everything, or perhaps because of it, needed to be reminded... of what is truly important. Of how to love. Of how to be loved. Of how to laugh, and live, and wonder what tomorrow might bring. Of what it once felt like to have an entire world before my feet, exciting and new, while still being firmly rooted in the security of a love so irrefutably true and sincere that nothing could destabilise it. This was the Barok of a decade prior, and it was the Barok I had locked away when my brother died. I locked him away because there was no longer anyone to share him with, no light to be cast upon his future, and no love to ground him. Had I not locked him away, I might as well have thrown him in the deep sea; cursed him to an eternal life in the depths of his own desperation and misery.

But I locked him away. And when my brother returned, albeit only in an ethereal, untouchable form, he began to pick that lock.

It is clear to me that his presence, however much pain and suffering it might have brought to both me and others, has undoubtedly returned some of that light and love to my life. It has enabled a younger, less troubled Barok to peek out from the dungeon in which he had been locked away for so long. And when he dared to peek... He saw that perhaps, the world was not quite as dark and gruesome as he had convinced himself. Perhaps, there might even exist the possibility of love outside of his brother's shadow.

My brother opened that door by appearing in my life from the afterlife, but... I believe that if he were to vanish again... I might not need to lock a part of me away a second time. Not because I am by any means grounded, or secure, or loved the way I once was. But I do have a better sense of the world now than I once did, and I understand that there is no such thing as to walk eternally in bright sunlight. Sometimes, walking in shadow—or even darkness—is not only the right decision, or the necessary decision, but also the decision which will bring you all the more light in the end.

Perhaps I might have had this realisation without the reappearance of Klint in my life. If I had, it would surely have happened at a much later point in time.

But enough rambling now; I suppose I have yet to answer the actual question you posed. What do I feel for my brother? ...It is rather complex. I love him, more than life itself, despite his flaws and imperfections. I am not yet prepared to say farewell a second time. And yet... I will never again view him with the adoration I once did. The Klint van Zieks I loved as a young man is dead, and nothing that exists in any of our planes of existence would be able to bring him back. Where once I felt untainted sorrow for his death, I now face emotions that are thousands of times more complicated. I have only begun to make an attempt at expressing them to myself, and so I fear I cannot yet give you an exhaustive answer as to their exact nature. Were I to attempt it anyway, I might name such concepts as disappointment, anger, a sense of injustice and a deep, deep loss. But these are mere vapid descriptors and cannot possibly convey the true spectrum of how I feel.

Despite all of this, before I end this post, I must emphasise: He still loves me, still carries me unquestionably if necessary. And some part of me, at least... still remains his darling.

.........

With hope that this shall serve as a satisfactory answer at present.

[alterchaos]

THE FAULT IN OUR STARS: CAPTIVES

Aboard the Ark, the girl with the golden hair plots her escape...

(cw: imagery surrounding death/body horror)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: ESCAPE: PRISON ISLAND

NEXT CHAPTER: THE FAULT IN OUR STARS: REVENGE

Above the cool, blue planet there was a satellite station known as the Space Colony Ark. In one of the windows overlooking the stars stood a girl, hair golden like the sun and eyes an oceanic hue. She frowned as she looked down upon the planet, paying no mind to the itchy, restricting collar of her blue gown. She’d grown accustomed to it these past few weeks, though she still preferred to unclasp the gold button when her captor wasn’t looking, allowing a sense of freedom and self-expression however small it may be.

It was rather boring aboard the Ark, though the girl supposed that was better than most kidnapping situations she’d seen in her cartoons back home. There was no sun to wake her, so she had to rely on either a simple alarm or the regular check-ups from her so-called “brother”. After waking up came breakfast, then studies, followed by lunch and some afternoon activity. Then there was freetime, which she often used to find clues to aid in her eventual escape. At the end of each day came a check-up and health evaluation, always conducted by this strange nurse that resembled Sonic and his friends rather than any human she’d witnessed in her life. Finally, it was bedtime.

And thus the cycle continued.

There also existed a plethora of secrets and hidden passages aboard the pristine Ark, which thankfully gave the girl some sense of adventure in her time there. By this point, she’d nearly mapped out the entire station, though there were a few rooms she was never allowed in.

Gerald Robotnik’s lab

The captain’s quarters

The maintenance bay

Everything else was fair game.

“Hey there, kid! Ready for your check up?”

She didn’t even face the winking nurse.

“Where’d Shadow go?”

The nurse shrugged, “Who knows. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“...”

Out of everyone on board, the nurse and caretaker of the Ark was the only one who didn’t force the name ‘Maria’ on her, unlike the unseen doctor and her assailant. She didn’t necessarily address her by her real name either, though Eve didn’t believe correcting her was worth the energy.

Though she felt thankful that Shadow was away at the moment, she couldn’t help but feel some level of sympathy towards the hedgehog. She’d been terrified of him the first few days after waking up from her head injury, though quickly realized he had no intention of hurting her. In fact, it seemed as though this whole mess started because of a deep desire to protect her, or this ‘Maria’ she slowly learned of over the weeks.

From what she’d figured out, Maria was a very sick girl who lived here aboard the Ark alongside Shadow and the doctor. They were her family and loved each other very much. This was especially evident in the activities Shadow pushed on her to try and “remember”, including reading, art, and lessons. In his mind, the year was still 1953 and everyone had mysteriously vanished one morning after he’d woken up, causing him great panic. When he found her, he believed she was Maria and that she was in grave danger due to her ‘illness’. That was why he’d kidnapped her, insisting something was terribly wrong the entire way.

Any attempts at telling him otherwise were met with a sharp denial and more health examinations by the nurse before her. That was why she searched the Ark. Her hope was that proving him wrong would snap him out of his delusion and convince him to set her free. He was always kind to her, going out of his way to make her happy, so she wasn’t afraid to address him. That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that there was no proof.

At least…not in the rooms she’d already searched.

It was risky, but she knew she’d have to start looking for a way into the forbidden rooms, and that search would start tonight after everyone was asleep.

She turned, ready to join the eccentric nurse without further hesitation.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

“Right this way!” The nurse blew a kiss into thin air.

Yep. Definitely eccentric.

—----------------------------------------------------

knock knock knock

Eve looked up from the book she was reading in bed.

“Maria? Can I come in?”

She sighed, unwilling to turn away the surprisingly well-mannered hedgehog. To his credit, he never acted in a way to make her feel unsafe and she was well aware her injury at the school had purely been by accident.

To be honest, she didn’t mind his company.

You know…when he wasn’t forcing her to live as if she were Maria.

“Yeah…”

The colony door slid open, revealing the young, tired hedgehog wearing a set of pajamas. He rubbed his eyes a moment as he entered, sitting on the edge of the bed and releasing a small smile.

“What book are you reading?”

“Legend of the Black Wind.”

“What is it about?” The young hedgehog looked into her eyes with genuine curiosity.

Eve paused for a moment in shock, “You mean you haven’t read it already?”

“Papa would bring us new gifts every time he visited Earth. He got us this book on his last visit before…well…” He trailed off, clearly bothered by her lack of memory.

“Oh…”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“It’s about a bad guy who lost everything. He hurts others because of how he’s been hurt, but in the end, he remembers the wishes of those he lost. He gives up everything to save the world he once hated and becomes known as a hero.”

“That’s such a sad story…”

Eve shook her head, “Not to me. I think it’s a happy story because it reminds us that there’s always a chance to do the right thing.”

“...The right thing, huh…”

“Yep.”

“And how are any of us supposed to know what the right thing even is…” Shadow clenched his fist.

“I don’t know…I guess we just know when the time is right…”

“Maybe…”

“...”

“...”

“Shadow…You have to know by now that I’m not Maria…”

“...”

“I like you, Shadow. I really want to be your friend but…”

Shadow rose from the bed.

“...I can’t replace her-”

“I think you must be tired after all that reading, Maria. Don’t worry though…” He turned to smile at her, a couple tears threatening to fall, “...Even if you can’t remember me fully, we’ll just make new memories together…here…home where we belong…”

“Shadow…”

The hedgehog walked over to the door.

“Please…I miss Earth…”

He paused, refusing to turn back and face her.

“Rest easy, Maria.”

“Shado-”

The door slid gently shut behind him, all traces of his presence gone. The girl remained still for another moment before curling up into herself, all her frustration, anxiety, and sadness spilling over into her tears. She silently cried until there were no more tears left to cry before finally looking up in newfound determination.

Tonight she would finally seek some answers.

Tonight she would finally begin to make her escape.

—----------------------------------------------------

Eve waited until everyone was well asleep before sneaking out of her room. Each step was tread with silent care, every corner double checked for signs of life. She felt like a spy in one of her cartoons, which offered some level of amusement in an otherwise harrowing situation. Out of the three forbidden rooms, Eve decided to first check the maintenance bay, mainly due to Gerald’s looming presence over the Ark. He was never seen, always using the overhead speakers to address everyone from either his lab or the captain’s quarters. The girl wondered at times if he was merely a ghost like the ones back at the castle set, haunting the isolated space station for all eternity. She quickly came out of her thoughts though as she arrived at her destination.

“The maintenance bay…”

scuff…shuff…le…

“Huh?”

She pressed an ear against the locked door, picking up on small shuffling sounds within.

“Odd…Okay…let’s try this…”

Eve pulled a pin from her hair and stuck it inside the lock like she’d read about in one of the adventure novels aboard the Ark. She turned and turned but…

…

Nothing.

She tried again…

And again…

And-

“My my, quite the little thief we’ve got here.”

“-!!!” Eve sharply turned her head behind her, catching sight of the nurse from earlier. How she’d not heard her approach, she had no idea, but this was bad. Even as Maria, who knew what kind of punishment awaited her now…

“I-I-I’m so sorry! I-I w-was only t-trying to-”

“Relax kid. I’m on your side.”

“Huh?”

The nurse removed her uniform, tossing it behind her in disgust. What remained was a sleek, black bodysuit with a pink heart ordaining the front. From her back, two large, black wings flapped open, the nurse in question rolling her shoulders as she released a sigh.

“Ah. Much better.”

“A-A-Ahh…” Eve didn’t know how to react, flying between wanting to scream and freezing solid.

“Woah! Woah! Easy kid! Your dad hired me to help…well…my team to be more specific…”

The girl eased up a bit, looking at the winged creature with awe, “Who…Who are you?”

“Rouge the Bat, member of G.U.N.’s 7th squad.” Rouge extended her hand to shake the girl’s, “I know all about you and your friend, Sonic. I come from his world after all.” She winked with a small giggle.

“Y-You mean Mobius?”

“That’s right! I also ended up in the blast that sent everyone here and you could say that I ended up on the wrong side of the law…you know…being the wonderful jewel thief that I am.” Rouge pointed to herself with flair, “After that, I ran into this old hag and was invited to join her squad in exchange for my freedom. Little did I know my mission to investigate G.U.N’s more…corrupted branches…would land me in the perfect position to ensure the safety of our sponsor’s missing daughter. Well…fortune does favor the beautiful I suppose…” She sparkled with her self-aggrandisement, ignoring the human girl’s incredulous and somewhat confused stare.

“I…guess so…”

“But enough about me. You certainly didn’t expect to pick that lock with such a tiny hairpin, did you?”

“Umm…” Eve blushed in embarrassment.

Rouge sighed, “Just leave it to the professional, kid…”

Eve’s eyes began to sparkle, “Oooh! Does this mean you’re going to use some fancy trick or spy gear to melt through the door or something!?”

“Nope.” Rouge held up a shiny key, “A real thief doesn’t even need to pick locks. She just takes what she wants.”

“Woooah…”

With a single turn of the key, the lock popped open with a small click.

“Now…let’s see what this ‘Gerald’ guy has locked away in-!!?”

Both girls froze before the shocking sight, Eve covering her mouth in horror as her eyes fell upon the beaten and bruised figure tied up before her.

“Kn-Knuckles!!?”

The red and purple-bruised echidna leaning against the giant emerald behind him let out a small cough, his shaky gaze meeting the young girl’s tearful eyes.

“E-Eve…? What are you doing here…” He shifted his gaze to the bat beside her, “...Rouge?”

“In the flesh, handsome.” Rouge smiled teasingly.

Knuckles rolled his eyes, “Whatever, Bat Girl…” He winced as he attempted to shift his position slightly, “A little help?”

“R-Right…” Eve immediately knelt to his level, trying her hardest to untie the echidna through the trembling in her hands. It was no use though and she continued to struggle greatly until Rouge came to her aid.

“Stand back, kid.” Eve obeyed as the bat raised a pocket knife from one of her boots, slicing the binds off Knuckles with ease, “There. You owe me, Red.”

“Pssht! As if!”

Rouge’s hands flew to her hips in disbelief, “You know a simple ‘thank you’ would go a long way!”

“And why would I thank the jewel thief who worked alongside Eggman to keep me locked up here!?”

“Well if it weren’t for me, you’d be dead! Is that what you prefer!?”

“Uuh…guys…”

The couple turned to the girl, speaking in perfect unison, “What!!?”

The girl jolted, though slightly amused at the spectacle, “Shouldn’t we…be focusing on a way out of here?”

“You know, Red, the girl’s got a point.”

“Oh like I was the one making a scene just now?”

“Why I-!!?” Rouge paused, looking down at the kneeling girl holding her arm.

“Rouge…please…he’s been through a lot…”

The bat softened a bit, though still remained somewhat on edge, “So?”

“I’d be angry too if I was beat up and shoved into a closet like this for weeks…”

Rouge sighed, the tension leaving her. She smiled thoughtfully, “You sure do have a lot of empathy, kid…Alright…I won’t fight anymore.”

Knuckles flashed a cocky grin, “There…that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

“And you…”

“Eh? M-Me!?” Knuckles pointed to himself sheepishly.

Eve stared at him sternly, folding her arms, “Mom and Dad taught me that it’s polite to always say thank you when someone does something nice or helps out.”

“Uh…r-right…sorry…” Knuckles looked back up at Rouge with a smile, “Thank you, Rouge, for coming to save me.”

Rouge stared at him in awe a moment before averting her gaze, “Wow…you can be…surprisingly charming when you want to be…”

Knuckles blushed slightly at the compliment, unsure how to respond. It didn’t matter though as Eve was already behind him, helping lift him to a standing position. He stumbled a bit, causing the considerably smaller girl to stumble alongside him. She didn’t give up though, continuing to steady him as he regained his balance, Rouge jumping in as well to help. After a moment, the echidna smiled at the human girl, waving her away as he refound his footing, standing tall beside her with a couple heavy breaths.

“Are you sure you can stand on your own?”

“Yeah…Thanks, kid…”

Eve smiled, “Hehehe! No proble-”

She froze, eyes wide.

“Hm? What’s the matter?”

“…”

“Eve?”

“This way!”

“Hey wait!”

It was too late. With that, the girl ran out of the maintenance closet and around the corner, leaving the bat and echidna behind to watch in shock.

Knuckles turned his face away, closing his eyes, “I’m sorry…if my words hurt you earlier…” With that, he ran out after her.

Rouge froze at his subtle apology, her cheeks blushing slightly as she watched him run out the door.

“Y-Yeah…don’t worry about it…”

She shook her head in denial as she ran out after them, paying no mind for once to the large emerald left behind.

—----------------------------------------------------

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The girl with the golden hair navigated the halls without a second thought.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

She paused a moment at a fork in the road, looking between the two halls before racing onward.

“This way!”

Huff huff

“Eve…Slow down…”

“Where are you taking us, Blondie?”

She didn’t answer, continuing to stare ahead with steely focus until she happened upon a large set of locked doors. She ran up to them and stopped, standing there silently as her two friends caught up to her.

Rouge’s eyes flew wide, “This is-!!”

“Okay…Why did you bring us here?”

“...”

She continued to stare at the doors, unblinking.

“Eve?”

Knuckles waved one of his large hands in front of the unmoving girl’s face.

“H-Huh?” She blinked a couple times, looking around in confusion, “Wh-Where are w-hey wait…isn’t this…?”

“Stand back you two.” Rouge approached the doors, sliding a stolen key card along the scanner. The doors slid open with a puff of air, revealing a large, circular room with a window overlooking Earth along one of its walls. Various types of science equipment were strewn about, decorated with cobwebs and various stains. A couple tables were flipped, with broken switches and syringes lining the floor.

Knuckles grabbed the girl’s shoulders before she could take off again, “Hey, stay close. Got it?”

She nodded, “Right…”

The trio walked through the doors slowly, past a large computer with multiple screens. Their eyes then fell on a circular area in the center with loose wires hanging from the ceiling, no longer producing any spark of life.

Rouge swallowed nervously.

“Professor Gerald’s lab…”

“Who?”

“According to our sources, he created Project Shadow in this very room. It was thought that he died many decades ago but…”

Eve’s head turned to the right, catching sight of a glowing gem.

“But…?”

She slipped from Knuckles’s grip, reaching out…

“He’s the one holding us all captive here.”

She grasped the blue gem before her gaze shifted upward…

“How can that be though if he’s-”

“AAAAIIIIIEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!”

“EVE!!!”

“BLONDIE!!!”

The girl fell backwards, scrambling away from the disturbing sight as she clutched the emerald close to her chest. Knuckles slid down next to her, reaching out and holding her as she buried her face in his arms, a few tears flying from her eyes as she began to tremble. Knuckles and Rouge looked in the direction she’d come from, their eyes widening as they saw it.

“A-A…skeleton…”

“Hey…It’s okay…I’ve got you, kid…” Knuckles shielded the shaking girl from the horrifying sight.

The skeleton before them was lying on its chest atop a blood-stained floor, a faded, blue dress draped gracefully over its decomposed figure. A few holes lined the cracked bones, including one straight through the middle of the skull. Rouge covered her mouth in shock, immediately recognizing the style and fit of the outfit.

“Th-That’s…”

“Maria? What are you doing in here?”

“-!!!??”

TO BE CONTINUED…

[riiwriting]

Pastry Possibilities | Barbatos (Obey Me)

Summary - After months of living in the Devildom, there were some things that you just accepted as a part of life, such as it being impossible to steal a moment of the royal butler's time.

Notes - First time I've ever written anything for this fandom. I don't have any idea why Barbatos is who came to mind first, but whatever works.

Warnings - N/A

Pronouns - GN (no pronouns used at all)

It didn’t take long at all for you to understand the unspoken routines of the Devildom. There were some things you just simply didn’t ask about, like Satan’s opinion on Lucifer, or that time that Levi summoned Lotan. And then there were some things that everybody simply just accepted as parts of life; no matter how seemingly unfair or odd to you they were.

Honestly, the longer you stayed there, the more that those kinds of things began to arise. You had to grown into understanding Lucifer and Satan’s relationship, just as it took time for you to understand why Mammon chose only to be a decent person when it came to you or his younger brothers. But there were also things that were quite apparent to you from day one, like the fact that it was eternally night, or Barbatos’s unwavering devotion to Lord Diavolo.

The latter, of course, made the most sense out of any of them. When you were introduced to the teal-haired demon, Lord Diavolo seemed to almost make a point to add his title of “butler.” Though you felt it to be a bit condescending, Barbatos had seemed to take pride in his position at the young lord’s side. To each their own, you supposed.

However, as your stay in the Devildom extended, this simple fact of existence seemed to bother you more and more. Something about the butler had caught your intrigue, and though you couldn’t quite figure out what it was, it created an ache in the pit of your stomach.

You knew everyone else. You knew what made the brothers tick, just as you knew what Luke and Simeon’s favorite desserts were. Hell, you had even come to know Lord Diavolo himself quite well, thanks to a desperate need for a breath of fresh air during the exchange retreat, and his willingness to accompany you.

There had been virtually no opportunities to really converse with Barbatos. In the few that there were, Diavolo was always present —and if he wasn’t, Mammon was. You learned very quickly that if you wanted a chance to actually talk to the butler, you’d have to create the situation yourself.

That was when you decided to pick baking back up as a hobby. You were quite familiar with a collection of human-world pastry recipes, but it had admittedly been a few years before you spent much time in front of an oven. Partially out of fear of embarrassing yourself in front of the brothers (though mostly due to a desire for peace and quiet), you asked Simeon if they would mind sharing the Purgatory Hall kitchen with you.

“Of course not! You know you’re more than welcome at Purgatory Hall for any reason,” Simeon said, a bright smile on his face.

You returned his smile in full. “Thank you,” you beamed gratefully. “I know this sounds silly, but it’s been a while since I’ve tried to bake anything. If anyone is going to have to tell me that my cookies taste like ass, I’d prefer it be you.”

Simeon laughed, “Well, I’ve never known you to be bad at anything, so I’m sure they’ll be quite fine. I do have to ask though, is there a reason why you’re deciding to pick an apron up all of a sudden?”

Though you knew there was quite literally no way Simeon could REALLY know your intentions, the mischievous glint in his eye made you shift your feet. He always seemed to know when you had some kind of plot, regardless of how hard you tried to disguise it. You had been foolish to think that this time would be any different.

“Oh, nothing in particular,” you lied seamlessly, hoping that Simeon didn’t catch the way you wiped your sweaty palm on the bottom of your RAD uniform jacket. You thought up a new line of reasoning as quickly as possible. “I just feel like my entire personality down here has revolved around Lucifer and his brothers. I miss doing things just for myself.”

Your heart panged at your own words as you realized how true they were. Though a conscious awakening wasn’t exactly what you was going for, it apparently placated Simeon’s curiosities, as he tapped his chin and nodded thoughtfully along with your words. “Well, that’s certainly understandable. I’ll say again, any time you need somewhere to go, you’re welcome at Putgatory Hall.”

You thanked him again before giving your friend a tight hug and announcing you’d stop by a little while after school. Simeon simply nodded and agreed to your plans before the two of you parted ways.

You turned away from Simeon and nearly right into Lucifer, who was eyeing you with suspicious curiosity. You jumped a bit at the sight of him, before letting out a small sigh. “Geez, Lucifer, haven’t you learned in the hundreds of years you’ve been alive not to sneak up on people like that?”

“I was simply standing here,” he noted stoically. “You were just in a hurry and didn’t watch where you were going.”

You felt your face burn under his gaze. Maybe he had a point. Breathing another sigh, you apologized, “Okay, I’m sorry. I just realized I had been talking to Simeon for longer than I anticipated, and I didn’t want to be late to class.”

Lucifer drew out a short, disbelieving, “I see,” before an uncomfortable silence hung in the air. When it became painfully clear that you didn’t know what he was expecting of you, he asked, “I presumed you and Simeon were making plans of some sort?”

“Oh!” you said in surprise, having been expecting some sort of reprimand, as Lucifer seemed to love handing those out when they weren’t warranted. “Well, I suppose. I asked if I could bake cookies at Purgatory Hall later tonight.”

One of Lucifer’s eyebrows rose. “Is there a reason you can’t use the House of Lamentation’s kitchen?” he asked, somewhat offended.

You quickly shook your head. “Of course not! I just figured I could use Luke and Simeon’s help. It’s been a while since I baked anything.”

Lucifer didn’t appear convinced, though you supposed his expression always carried some sort of suspicion, but he didn’t press you any further. Instead, he said, “You’d be better off asking Barbatos for help.”

A lump formed in your throat. You wanted to tell him he was an idiot, and ask him how exactly he thought you would be able to simply steal Barbatos’ attention from Diavolo. However, the last thing you needed to do was actually give Lucifer a reason to punish you, so you simply waved a passive hand. “Oh, he’s too busy for that.”

Lucifer shrugged, though apparently seemed to agree with what you said. “In that case, if your cookies turn out to be palatable, you should take some to the castle. I’m sure Diavolo would appreciate you sharing human culture with him, and Barbatos might be able to offer you feedback.”

You had to fight to keep yourself from bouncing on your feet, a sudden anxious rush running through you. You jumped at the opportunity your friend – used loosely – laid in front of you. “That’s a nice idea, thank you. Would you do me a favor, then, and tell Diavolo about it the next to you see him? That way a visit wouldn’t be completely unexpected.”

Your thoughtfulness seemed to impress Lucifer, who allowed his lips to quirk into the faintest of smiles. Just as quickly as it had come, the expression disappeared. The demon gave a curt nod, “I’ll let them know.“

Though you felt the conversation had ended, Lucifer lingered in front of you. You then realized the one thing you had forgotten to cover. “And of course I’ll bring some back to the house for you guys,” you promised.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, acting as if he hadn’t been waiting all this time for you to confirm exactly that. “I would expect you to bring some to me, at least, considering we’ve had this conversation. Thought I don’t think Beel would forgive you if he found out you didn’t save any for him,” he teased.

All of a sudden your little cookie experiment was turning into a bake sale, but you couldn’t do much other than nod and escape from the hallway. Once you reached your next class, you retrieved your D.D.D from your bag to text Luke about the situation. Your tension eased when he responded enthusiastically, saying he would help however you needed him to, and that he couldn’t wait to hang out with you.

Tossing your device back into your bag, you relaxed in your seat and decided to be optimistic. Lucifer and Simeon both had been more helpful than you anticipated. While part of you almost wanted to thank them, you thought you might die of embarrassment if anyone found out how desperately you were trying to retrieve Barbatos’ attention.

You still hadn’t figured out what it was that drew you to him. You were half-convinced that it was simply the mystery of it all – that you just couldn’t stand not knowing everything. However, the more you felt butterflies arise at the thought of the demon butler, the more you lost faith in your innocent act.

You were drawn to Barbatos the same way that everyone else seemed to be drawn to you. And while quite literally anyone else would have been an easier route for your heart to take, you had begun noticing your brain circling back to him.

You genuinely hoped that once you got a chance to see a bit of his true character, that sensation would fade. Maybe then you could actually get on with your life.

x

“There we go!” You declared with a slight wince as you tossed the last pan of cookies onto the kitchen counter. Simeon and Luke, who were each sitting at the kitchen table, munching on cookies from your first batch, gave you a small round of applause at hearing you were finally done, 7 trays later.

Luke smiled happily from around his cookie, crumbs falling from the corner of his mouth. “These are really good MC! You didn’t need our help at all,” he said happily.

Simeon nodded at his sentiment. “You’re very right Luke. Though I’m definitely not complaining about getting first dibs over Beel.”

You felt your cheeks redden at their compliments. Dipping your chin to focus on removing the cookies from the tray to a plate, you responded to their praise, “Well, I’m glad that they taste okay.” It was one of the most basic cookie recipes you could remember, so you didn’t think you’d forgive yourself if you messed them up.

After finishing his cookie, Simeon joined you at the counter, watching curiously as you distributed the cookies evenly between a few different plates. Feeling his gaze, you look up at him. “Do you guys have notecards? And a marker?” you asked politely.

With a small nod, Simeon disappeared up to his room, returning moments later with exactly what you had asked for. You thanked him, before scrawling everyone’s names on individual notecards. This would at least help you remember who you had already given some to.

Simeon continued to watch your actions, laughing quietly when you tucked the card with Beel’s name onto the fullest plate. You then decided to make two plates for the house in general, hoping that with Beel removed from the equation, no fighting would ensue.

Of course, to save your own ass, you separated a few and bundled them up in parchment paper, attaching a notecard with Lucifer’s name to the top. You didn’t bother labeling Purgatory Hall’s cookies, as you would just leave them here.

You seemed to hesitate at the last plate, debating whether it was improper to write Diavolo and Barbatos’ names, or if you should simply address the castle, or possibly just Diavolo. You wanted Barbatos to know that you had him in mind, but you also didn’t want to break some unbeknownst to you status quo.

Simeon noticed your hesitance, and asked, “You aren’t taking any to the castle?”

Your head snapped up, directly meeting your friend’s blue eyes. Your face reddened, “I am. I just didn’t know the proper way to address them.”

A humored smile spread onto Simeon’s lips. “I’m sure Diavolo will be pleased regardless of what the label says,” he placated.

You bit the inside of your cheek, wondering if asking a simple question would give away your intentions too much. After a short study of Simeon’s expression, you figured if there was anyone you didn’t mind knowing your thoughts, it was him and Luke.

“You don’t think it’s improper to address them to both him and Barbatos, do you?” You asked, glancing up at the taller angel through your eyelashes.

Simeon was quick to shake his head, “Not at all. I’m under the impression that Diavolo sees Barbatos as more of a very helpful friend than a servant. And I’m sure Barbatos would love the idea of someone baking something for him for a change.”

You let his words sit in the air for a moment, your eyes focused on what was left of the cookies in front of you. With a small frown on your lips, you divided what you had left between two plates rather than one, making individual labels for each.

Once you had tucked both of the cards into their proper places, you looked back up at Simeon. “Do you mind if I run to the castle and then swing back by on my way home?” you asked. It was a shorter walk to the castle from there, and you were mildly afraid of questioning from both Mammon and Beel if they noticed you had sweets for other people.

Simeon and Luke both announced that they wouldn’t mind your coming and going at all, though with a knowing look, Simeon asked if you wished for him to accompany you to calm your nerves. You shook your head, knowing that as much as you would enjoy his company, it would defeat the whole purpose of your cookie scheme.

After short promises of being right back to retrieve the rest of your pastries, you stacked the two plates of cookies in your arms and headed out into the stuffy evening air. You tried not to let your nerves bubble to the surface on your walk, but the moment the castle’s grand doors were in front of you, you had to take a second to collect yourself. After swallowing your pride, you knocked on the door.

Momentarily, the door was pulled open, revealing a pleasant-looking Barbatos. “MC,” he greeted with a warm smile, “My Lord was just asking if I had seen you yet this afternoon.”

You returned his smile gently, anxious butterflies bouncing around your stomach. “Well, I apologize for keeping you both in anticipation. I suppose I didn’t think about how many cookies I had to make for everyone, and how long it would take.”

A knowing look shone in the butler’s eyes, and he gave a thoughtful nod before stepping aside and inviting you in. You shifted anxiously on your feet as you stood in the entryway of the Demon Lord’s castle.

“Give me one moment, I’ll go retrieve Lord Diavolo,” Barbatos announced quickly.

Before you could think better of it, you stretched a hand in his direction to stop him. Fingertips grazing his jacket sleeve, your face burned when he turned to you with an unreadable look. You swallowed the lump in your throat, “Before you do, I just wanted to give you these, is all.”

You handed the butler the bottom plate of cookies, watching meekly as his eyes drifted across his name scrawled in your handwriting. His expression seemed to change, but when he looked over at you, his eyes still seemed to hold their normal humored curiosity. Clearing your throat, you explained, “They’re nothing special, but I figured it would be nice to eat something you didn’t have to make for a change.”

This time, you were certain that his expression changed, as his mouth quirked into a tiny smile. You had grown accustomed to the polite smiles he sent you while you conversed with Lucifer or Diavolo, but you had to admit that it was nice to be the reason for even the tiniest bit of his contentment.

However, when he didn’t say anything for a prolonged moment, your anxiety worked double time. “Sorry, I’m know you’re used to higher quality sweets, but–“

“I’m sure these will be wonderful,” Barbatos spoke thoughtfully, his words silencing your rambling. When you met his gaze again, his smile had grown, most likely to put you at ease. You allowed yourself to return his smile, and relished in the way his cheeks dusted with a shade of pink. “Thank you, MC. It’s admittedly been a while since I received any sort of gift for myself.”

Your heart thumped against your rib cage as you successfully fought the urge to tell him that he was the sole reason behind you getting in the kitchen in the first place. You instead settled for, “I figured as much, which is why I wanted to make sure to bring you your own.”

You watched as the butler’s chin tilted away from you, undeniably hiding a flustered expression. His reaction made your chest swell with pride, even as he hurriedly excused himself to go retrieve Diavolo.

When the young lord arrived in the entryway to greet you, Barbatos was notably absent from his side. You chose not to inquire, but Diavolo seemed to notice your gaze traveling around the room, and voiced an internal thought. “I admit, I’m not sure where Barbatos disappeared to,” he said with a small frown. After a moment of studying your demeanor, his expression melted into a curious smile. “Though I will say he was quite red in the face while letting me know of your arrival.”

Your intention had certainly not been to fluster him – in fact, you didn’t think that was possible – but you took that as a sign that maybe you were getting somewhere.

“It’s later than I anticipated, but I know Lucifer told you I’d be by, and I didn’t want to disappoint,” you explained as you handed the red-haired demon the remaining plate of cookies.

Diavolo let out a deep laugh, “You have yet to disappoint in any way, MC.” He paused for a moment as his eyes drifted over the parchment covered plate. Seeing the notecard with his name, his expression faltered, “I don’t mean to question your thought process, but I don’t suppose you’d mind if I shared with Barbatos?”

You felt yourself smile at his consideration, and supposed Simeon had a point about the two of them being friends. “You can share with anyone you’d like! Though I have already given Barbatos a plate for himself.”

Immediately upon hearing your words, Diavolo’s goofy smile returned. Things apparently seemed to click into place, as he let out an understanding, “Ah.” After a moment of suggestive silence, he declared, “Well, I’ll have to have him invite you over to use the kitchen here sometime. I’m sure the two of you would work quite well together.”

You felt your face flush once more as you smiled at the offer. “Well, I’d certainly appreciate the opportunity,” you responded politely. There was a glint in Diavolo’s eyes that told you he had you entirely figured out, but you excused yourself before giving him the chance to say much else.

Diavolo himself saw you out, thanking you again at the door. When you asked him to tell Barbatos you said goodbye, he all but smirked, promising to pass the sentiment along.

[stillresolved]

“ i want to know what love is to you. ” ( to: aeri )

@goldenheirs / "i want to know..." prompts

A SCOFF. “What is this supposed to be, philosophy class? We’re not in university anymore.” Do forgive her for her imprudence there, Ma-ri; she was in the middle of a sketch when she was interrupted and no one wants to be on the receiving end of Kang Aeri’s temper. Especially when she is in the middle of creating. She was like that too, back when she was a student in the classes outside of her major. Whatever the professor was saying always came second to her doodling, soon to be a masterpiece. Who are they to interrupt the makings of a foundation to timelessness?

Nevertheless, Ma-ri is family now, even if Aeri pities the girl. For crying out loud, Ma-ri is engaged to Bel, of all people. The golden goose with the ego of a peacock. It’s one thing to be oogling him over SNS, but another thing to have to put up with him…for life. Aeri would rather jump off the top of the Kakao’s headquarters, thank you very much.

This being said, she sets her pencil down and leaning back in her chair, crosses her arms. “What, having marital trouble with my brother now? And here I thought you two were living the fairytale happily ever after.” Of course that’s just Aeri rattling off whatever dispatch has been saying about Ma-ri and the oldest Kang’s engagement. In other words, exaggerating the truth, as usual. 

“Well it’s definitely not whatever the fuck is happening in that…cesspool.” Love is an interesting word to describe the familial ties within the Kang family. Maybe somewhere, deep down, there is love– loyalty to one’s own kind. It just ends up…twisted, shattered, and corrupted the closer to the surface it gets. 

So yes, maybe there is love. But certainly not the kind Aeri seeks out.

“Someone who isn’t fucking exhausting to be around,” she starts though, legs crossing. Better to start with something specific than vague, right? That’s the way most of her sketches start out anyways. AERI the designer doesn’t begin with broad strokes. It must always begin with a specific vision of some part. “If I have to walk eggshells around you for everything I do, it’s not worth it. I’m not giving up my life for just anyone.”

Worth it. Maybe that’s the answer Ma-ri is looking for ultimately. For all the cynicism that runs through all the Kangs, Aeri…well she wouldn’t call herself an idealist or optimistic, but she is confident. Hopeful. 

“I wouldn’t be where I am in my career if it wasn’t for my fiancée. I used to think she was the most aggravating person ever.” Devora Diana Song, Aeri is referring to. Although surely Ma-ri knows her, if not at least from the less than savory tales the golden goose has probably recounted about the CEO of the Chosun Ilbo Paper. Aeri considers that fact, alone, to be the cherry on top of all the reasons to come around to her fiancee– if it pisses off her brother, then it is worth pursuing. 

But maybe Aeri should’ve realized all along. Even when Devora was aggravating just by existing, Aeri could never keep her eyes off of her. From the pedestal the Kang family has always expected Aeri to stand on, she was always watching Devora. They were always looking at each other, instinctively know that inevitably gravity would pull them towards one another. Soulmates, one might say, but Aeri has never been one for romantic ideals. She glances outside the window, into the sun.

That’s what love is, isn’t it? Enduring. Patient. Inevitable.

( And yet maybe, just maybe, there is a vague thought, she has. That perhaps this is not the first life in which she and Devora have crossed paths. In the vaguest of…flashbacks? Premonitions, there is a picture of them together, under different circumstances, one where the guilt racks on Deva’s back and Aeri’s hands are callused from years of servitude– )

A far off look. Aeri shakes her head. “Anyways, if you really have to ask someone outside your relationship for love advice, maybe you shouldn’t get married. Pity, since we would’ve finally been getting a someone with common sense in the family–”

[more-than-a-princess]

"I can fare just fine at a 'debauchery party,' thank you very much," Sonia quipped in return, her pout pausing only when she realized how such a phrase could be interpreted. "I simply choose not to make them a habit. Possible scandals and all, and I daresay everyone has their hands full with the future duke anyway." Just as Liam would want it, she knew: he'd told her once that his future would never be a happy one, at least with how the Novoselic Royal Family was currently run. So having as much fun, no matter the risk, seemed like the only way to spend his life, without much care for the consequences. Too many nights had been spent sharing a bottle of amber-colored liquor, Sam studying his music or pilot training or some other talent he far excelled his brother and cousin in. Liam lived life lightly, sometimes too light for Sonia's heart to take: the reasoning broke it every time. If there was one promise she wanted to keep as Queen, it was for him to live openly and honestly about who he was.

Hopes like that...that kept her going, even to formal dinners where she was only invited in order to compromise her morals. Or least, attempt to force her into doing so. Sonia sighed, leaning further back into the plush chair than was deemed ladylike. "I must use my naivete to my advantage, or else I will be taken advantage of," She told him resolutely before turning her head to look at him, her look weary: by the topic, not him. Never him, as her blue eyes pleaded for a change of topic once she'd confirmed his concerns. "That is the path towards being jaded, is it not? If my kindness can be believed to be ignorance, then no one expects much of me. All the more surprising for them, then, when their assumptions catch them off-guard. But...thank you: I could not do this job without holding onto my principles. The crown will consume me otherwise one day. I am trying to ensure that does not happen, but it is not as simple as my father made it out to be when I was young. I am not sure if the Novosonian people agree with you on the last bit, though: that they are fortunate to have me as a ruler one day."

If just for the fact they would have a reigning queen, something even the most open-minded of Novosonians had a difficult time swallowing. The track record of women in power in the history of the country counted as a sole reigning queen from five centuries ago, the only ruler who ever got close to having Novoselic invaded by enemies. Since then, the country has remained safe, neutral, and prosperous, to both praise and criticism around the world.

Having Sonia as queen one day would bring enough unrest to Novoselic, to some degree. She frowned at the advice, keeping magecraft and the world he resided in well away from hers, but she knew it was coming from a kind place. It just made the space between them feel all the bigger, and not just the space from her cozy easy chair to the bed he currently occupied. "Well, that will be to the relief of...well, everyone besides me, really," Sonia admitted with a groan. "My occult hobby is already a problem, should it ever be found out. I suppose informing my family that magecraft exists and that we have been unwelcoming to mages, possibly to our detriment, is a conversation to spare them from. I am sorry they disregarded you, though: magic circuits should not have to prove anyone's worth. Especially yours."

Not that other governments around the world were terribly open about knowledge or dealings with mages and magecraft. Or if they were, they kept those conversations far away from the Novoselic Royal Family. Another example of ignorance, Sonia supposed, alongside her own. Though this time, her own came in the form of how Shirou felt about her borrowing his books.

"That is where you are wrong!" She accused, giving him her best attempt at a playful glare: narrowed eyes before breaking into a smile. "I keep plenty of secondhand items in my possession: or older, especially if it is family heirlooms. But much of my occult and horror film collection pieces are acquired secondhand. For collectors, sourcing preloved items can often mean they are quite rare and well-loved and taken care of. But if you cannot keep them, I shall be glad to give them a good home. You could even..."

A pause, a shiver. Whether it was due to the chill or her next thought, Sonia would never admit. "You could even visit when you like, if you should like to read them again. I shall ensure that you are given access to the library at Boudry House, whenever you wish."

That hadn't solved the blanket issue, but Shirou had taken that into his own hands. Literally, as Sonia watched him use his circuits to create an oversized coat. Oversized for her, anyway: it would likely fit him perfectly in a color he seemed to care for far more as an adult than he ever had as a teenager. To her knowledge, anyway. "Thank you," She murmured, taking the coat gingerly in her hands. She knew by now that what he conjured was real: weight and feel and everything else that had to do with the object he had in mind. But that didn't make it any less remarkable. Sonia slipped it over her shoulders and put her arms through the sleeves. As expected, both were too wide and too long for her shorter, slighter frame, but it allowed her to pull it tight over her cocktail dress like the blankets she'd been searching for.

"It is warm..." She smiled, rolling up the cuffs just a little for her hands to move easily before snuggling back down into the chair. No blanket or sweater or robe could compare. "Is that a lingering effect of the magecraft, Shirou? It feels...like you have recently worn it. That sort of warmth. It is wonderful." Now, her only danger was falling asleep during the film, in her cocktail dress, and not in her own bed, properly dressed and ready for sleep. Of course, the footmen outside would hear Shirou if he needed anything but it was the principle of it all. He deserved a quiet place to recuperate and didn't need to be at the receiving end of household gossip, if she were caught sound asleep in his room.

His friend always spoke about Cecily in such high regard that Shirou was under the impression she was a miracle worker. Even when Sonia had her bouts of fancy she had always been very disciplined and some of her rebellious inclinations were easy to foresee and carter to. The perchance for the occult, for example, or how much she enjoys horror movies. Only occasionally she would be a little more adventurous so Cecily certainly would be able to arrange or at least foresee a few contingency plans — or so Emiya believed. If he was right on the money or if Sonia was overselling it was still up to debate.

❝ Ah, so it is the latter.  I understand, you intervening in your cousin’s hunt for fun could actually be detrimental to my chances of escaping unscratched ? Or perhaps you are like me and doesn’t know the basics of surviving that kind of party ? ❞ he teased. It was hard to imagine Sonia engaging in debauchery indulgence even if she might be surrounded by it due to the nature of her job as the crown princess. ❝ You know, the fact that you won’t compromise on your core values is one of the things that is most admirable about you. ❞ as someone who travels and deals with all sorts of powerful individuals, Shirou had witnessed many kinds of leaders. The more powerful they are they usually lean to use their influence to get what they want – more power, money, sex, drugs… Those who have it all like to play fast and loose with morals, accumulating all sorts of excess and discarding those who aren’t on their level without a second thought. He’d heard about Sonia’s mother’s lovers from rumors and hints from the princess herself, yet the queen’s perfectly curated image paints her as a saint. It was praiseworthy that Sonia wants to uphold her morals and remain hopeful in the process. ❝ I can tell people tend to think you are naïve, they think that not becoming jaded or petty like them means ignorant. Your kindness is both your greatest asset but also your weak spot. The people of Novoselic are fortunate to have such a wonderful ruler.  ❞ —Still memories of a certain King of Knights made his heart feel tight.

❝ I think it might be a good idea to keep Novoselic relatively magic-free. ❞ he spoke frankly ❝ Political relationships are usually complicated enough, but mages can be downright inhumane. Some think as non-mages as little more than cattle, so a few selected ones you may be able to trust can inject some money in the country and offer support against mages with funny ideas. Luvia-san and her family can play their reputations of the “hyenas of Europe” but they are very caring and never go back with their word. ❞ he was actually a little surprised that the Church and its related branches like the Burial Agency barely have any dealings with Novoselic as well. ❝And I wasn’t talking about my own abilities as a mage, I was talking about people like you. You might be royal and a crown princess, but for most mages it is the same as nothing. Royal or homeless, if you don’t have magic circuits it makes barely any difference. During a ritual that took place in Fuyuki no-one paid any attention to me because at the time I didn’t have enough magic circuits to be considered a mage – just part of the peanut gallery. ❞ he revealed whilst dispelling her confusion ❝ This is one of the many reasons why you should be careful if you ever decide to allow the Mage’s Association to go back to Novoselic. Tohsaka and Luvia-san are exceptions, and there are a few individuals who won’t dismiss you . But you should be wary of mages, thankfully most of them chose to isolate themselves from regular humans unless it benefits them somehow. ❞ that was a harsh reality and kind of a dour conversation subject.

–  That was immediately brushed away by Sonia’s outburst, that caused Shirou to pause and blink before chuckling to the point of going “ow ow”  thanks to his stitches. Once he’d calmed down, he was able to articulate better: ❝ I’m always traveling around and I can’t keep my books. I end up giving them away or leaving them behind because I can’t store them. Knowing that a book that made me happy is in good hands will be perfect. ❞ he explained ❝ I know that a princess like you might not think too highly of second-hand articles but I promise you that I usually take good care of books. ❞ …A few of them had bullet holes tho. Those are usually discarded. ❝ A book is meant to be read after all. And to share a story with someone I know might enjoy it would be the best outcome, don’t you think ? But if you don’t want them, I understand. ❞

He watched as the girl struggled, it was indeed a little chilly and he was afraid that the blanket he was using might have been dirtied with his blood so it would also be no good. There was only one thing that he could do: ❝ Tʀᴀᴄᴇ ᴏɴ ! ❞ he hummed, mana pouring through his magic circuits activating it. In the past it would take a few seconds to retrieve the structure and picture it in his mind, now it was instantaneous : it was a dark burgundy windbreaker coat, it was warm enough despite not fitting her current aesthetic. It was also his size, he can’t create anything only reproduce things that he’d seen before. ❝ Use this, it will protect you from the draft. ❞ he indicated, holding it to her.

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Protector

Summary: Virgil’s entire job is to protect Thomas, and he takes that job very seriously.  The core sides might argue too seriously.  The core sides don’t know that there are actual dangerous sides he needs to protect Thomas from.  But there’s another side he needs to protect too.  He used to be able to count on help from Janus, who did the job without even knowing it back when he still lived with them.  But now Virgil and Remus are alone, and they have to look out for each other, which means the last thing that Virgil should do is leave his brother by himself.

Too bad it’s not exactly his choice.

Author’s Note: Hey, read the trigger warnings for this one.  Not everything comes up in every chapter, but when it does, I’m not messing around.  Please be very careful with this one if the warnings are something that’s going to bother you, and if you don’t read it, I won’t be mad.

That being said, welcome to my massive love letter to brotherly dukexiety.  These two are such amazing brothers and if I have to write my own monster of a fic to make everyone else see it, that's exactly what I'll do.  It's finished already, so welcome back to your regularly scheduled Sunday morning updates.  Hope you enjoy!

And as a last note, absolutely all the credit to @shadowling-guistical, who was there for me to scream to and who cheered me on and got just as excited about this story as I did the whole time it was being written.  Mishii, I am not exaggerating in the slightest when I say this story would not exist without you.

...

Virgil was not at all excited at the prospect of meeting with the core sides again.  That video was supposed to be a one time thing!  Okay, well, Thomas had said something about him being potentially used in future videos, but that was going to be something that happened once in a while, whenever they needed a villain to defeat or wanted to talk about the dangers of anxiety.  Why on Earth would they need to talk to him again so soon?

Remus hadn’t seemed to get it either, but he at least had been willing to get Virgil’s mind off of it by suggesting all sorts of ways he could annoy the core sides when he went to talk to them.  Most of his ideas involved dropping blood, saliva, or other bodily fluids on them, to which Virgil had laughed and pointed out the way that he definitely wouldn’t be able to conjure that much of anything.  He wasn’t Creativity, after all.

“Eh, you could at least spit on Janus,” Remus said, waving his hand dismissively.  “You’ll be right next to him.”

Virgil laughed again.  “Yeah, spitting on Thomas’ Self Preservation.  That’ll get me invited back.”

“I thought you didn’t want to go back,” Remus pointed out with a grin and raised eyebrows.

“Well, if I’m not invited back, how will I ever work up to being able to spit on Janus without consequences?”

It was Remus’ turn to laugh now, and he flopped down on his bed while continuing to grin.  “You make an excellent point.”

For how lighthearted the conversation seemed, they were both ignoring the undercurrent of fear tucked under the entire thing.  Because for how much Virgil and Remus didn’t love the prospect of him talking to the core sides again, there were still three sides that very much did.

It had been long known by the two of them how badly Malice wanted a way to get to Thomas.  Why he thought Thomas would listen to him was anyone’s guess, but he’d managed to get Positivity and Cruelty on board with the plan decades ago.  They had thankfully gotten pretty much nowhere, due in no small part to the fact that the side they’d need to convince to let them talk to Thomas was a core side who almost never came to their side of the mindscape in the first place.

Of course when he did come down here, he usually talked to Virgil, which didn’t make Virgil super popular.  But him having a direct line to Janus more often would be exactly the kind of thing that Malice would want.  Far easier to pressure Virgil into pressuring Janus into pressuring Thomas for something, as convoluted and complicated as that sounded.  So whether it was what Virgil wanted or not, Remus wasn’t too far off.  The safest thing for Thomas in this situation was to be as antagonistic as possible— which wouldn’t win him any points with Malice.  Whatever.  He was used to hiding bruises whenever Janus came down here.  It wasn’t that hard.

Virgil stayed in Remus’ room for most of the morning, as it was better for brainstorming and coming up with a game plan, especially when Remus was in there with him.  Of course, the game plan often ended up involving a lot of sex jokes and spitting on other sides, but Virgil could edit those parts out.

It was just after what would have been lunchtime if they were eating today that Virgil felt the tugging that meant he was being summoned by Thomas.  He glanced over at Remus with a tense smile that probably came out more like a grimace.

“Ah, time?”

Virgil nodded.

“Spit on Janus for me!”

“No,” Virgil said, as he sunk out in order to appear in the real world.

If he was going to be antagonistic with this thing, might as well get a head start.  Virgil appeared leaning on top of Janus’ hat, picking at his fingernails.  “I’m told you want to talk to me for some reason?”

“Get off of me,” Janus snapped, shoving Virgil towards the other side of the stair platform they were standing on.

“Oh, shoot, were you standing there?  Sorry, I didn’t see anything important.”

Janus gave him an unamused look, and Virgil turned from him to face Thomas before he could reply.  “Is there something you wanted?  I did have things to do today, you know.”

Most of those things probably involved hiding and running for his life, but that could come after he ended this conversation on a bad note so Thomas would never want to talk to him again.

Thomas sighed.  “Well, there was a bit of a surprising reaction to the video you were in,” he said.

Oh, god.  “What?  Are people lining up with torches and pitchforks?  Hate to break it to them, but they can’t actually affect me, I’m imaginary, they’re not—”

“Actually, everyone loved you kiddo!” Patton said brightly.

Virgil blinked and turned to face him.  “I’m sorry?”

“Yes, unfortunately, the fanbase seems to have adored you,” Roman said, crossing his arms and looking very unhappy with the situation.  “You are the second favorite character.”

“Second favorite?” Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course!  After me!” Roman proclaimed, adding a flourish with his hands.

“Oh, of course,” Virgil grumbled, leaning against the banister to his left.  “So why exactly does that matter?”

“Well, we have adjusted our plan slightly to align with what the viewers seem to be enjoying,” Logan said.  Virgil glanced down at him.  “And you will of course be included in more videos.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re gonna be a main character!” Patton called.

“I don’t want to be a main character,” Virgil said, crossing his arms over his chest.  That would be way too much pressure, were they insane?

“Oh!” Janus said brightly, clapping his hands together.  “Well, that decides that then!  Alright, Anxiety, if you wouldn’t mind heading back to—”

“Janus,” Thomas said in a low warning tone.  Janus groaned and looked up at the ceiling in clear disapproval, but stopped talking.

“You didn’t have a problem doing the last video,” Thomas said, turning back to Virgil.

“That was one.  Do you honestly think I’m okay with showing up in multiple videos?  Probably almost all of them if you’re saying I’d be a main character!”

“Anxiety, I can understand the idea of filming can be a little unnerving,” Patton said.  “And so can the idea of moving over here—”

“Wait.”  All of Virgil’s arguments came to a screeching halt before most of them had finished forming.  “Moving over here?”

“It would make it far easier to film if you could be around most of the time already,” Logan said.  “We can hardly expect Janus to make a trip to the other side of the mindscape every time we need to make a video.”

Virgil took a moment to process the irony in that statement, blinking at Logan.

Well, that changed things.  If he helped with the videos, he moved over here?  For a second, Virgil considered what that might mean.  He’d get away from Malice, Positivity, and Cruelty.  From what he understood, the core sides didn’t do things the same way they did.  Maybe he wouldn’t have to watch his back every second.  Maybe he could actually sleep easily for once.  But the problem there was, Virgil didn’t only have to watch his own back.  And if he left Remus alone…

It would be a huge disservice to the creative side to say that Remus couldn’t defend himself.  He was far from helpless.  He’d saved Virgil’s own ass more times than he could count.  But there were two of them and three of the others.  On a good day they could hold their own, but if it was just Remus against the three of them, he’d be pretty exposed.

Virgil was a protector.  That was his job, to protect Thomas.  Remus was a part of that.  And he needed Virgil far more than Thomas did most of the time.

Besides, there was a pecking order to the mindscape, as had been explained to Virgil very clearly the time that Malice and Cruelty had thrown Remus at him, unconscious and bleeding from where his mustache was supposed to be.  They wanted to get to Thomas.  But in order to do that they first had to get to Janus.  And since Janus wasn’t an easy side to get to, their best chance was to fuck with Virgil, the person Janus talked to if he ever came down there.  And if you wanted to fuck with Virgil you fucked with the people he was supposed to protect.  If Virgil left Remus alone and exposed, it would be giving them an even more direct line to Janus, and in turn, to Thomas.

Virgil paused as another option struck him.

He looked directly at Thomas.  “On one condition.”

Thomas blinked in surprise.  “You changed your mind?”

“On one condition,” Virgil repeated.

“What?”

“I get to bring someone with me.”

“Absolutely not,” Janus said instantly, glaring at Virgil.

“Janus,” Thomas said, crossing his arms.

“That’s my job!” Janus snapped.  “He doesn’t get to decide when you meet sides!  That’s my territory!”

“No one said he had to meet Thomas,” Virgil said, smirking as he slipped effortlessly back into the asshole persona.  “But if I have to deal with all of you idiots, I want some actually enjoyable company.”

“Hey, be nice,” Thomas said, raising an eyebrow at Virgil.

“Sorry, buddy, nice isn’t in my job description.  You should talk to Patton about that one.”

“Kiddo,” Patton said, sounding a little disappointed.

Virgil ignored him and looked back over at Janus.  “That’s my deal.  You want me to be part of this stupid video series long-term, you want me to come over here and be on-call for whenever you want to film, I get to bring one side with me.”

Janus narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms.  “No.”

“Janus,” Thomas said in exasperation.  “Come on.”

“I am not allowing a hostile side up here,” Janus said, still looking directly at Virgil.  “I decide when you’re ready to meet new sides.  I know all of the other sides down there, and trust me when I say that you’re not ready to meet any of them.  Letting one of them come over here is dancing too close to that line, and I will not allow it.”

Patton started to say something else, probably an attempt to change Janus’ mind, but Virgil recognized the expression on his face.  He wasn’t going to be swayed.

And Virgil wasn’t going to leave Remus by himself.

“Fine,” he said, straightening a little as he shoved his hands in his pockets.  “Then I suppose we’re done here.”

“Wait a second, Anxiety—” Logan started.

“I suppose we are,” Janus said, not moving his glare.

Virgil sank back out to Remus’ room without another word, despite the protests he heard follow him down.

Remus wasn’t there when Virgil got there, which was definitely a bad sign.  Virgil headed for all of their usual hiding spots first, as they’d decided years ago.  If they went to the others first, they would unquestionably get hurt, and if they already were being hurt, it was okay, they could last a little longer in order to not give away hiding spots.

This time, however, Virgil didn’t have to make it through all of the hiding spots, because he was passing the third when he walked in behind Cruelty holding a knife up to Remus’ face.

Remus must have seen him, but Cruelty was the only one in the room and they were both well practiced with not acknowledging the other’s presence.  Virgil summoned his scythe, made with Remus’ help a long time ago, and crept up behind Cruelty, silent on his feet.

“And another thing—” Cruelty started in a low voice.  Unfortunately, his other thing would be lost to time and space, because that’s when Virgil slammed the handle of his scythe into the back of his head, and he crumpled.

“You okay?” he asked, looking at Remus.

“Yeah,” Remus said, waving a dismissive hand, even though after doing so he moved to clutch at his other shoulder.  “Just a stab wound.”

“Ah.” Virgil shoved down the anxiety that always came when Remus was hurt, whether it was hours of grueling torture or just a simple stab wound.  “You want help?”

“I can patch myself up just fine, thanks, I don’t need help.”

“Oh, yeah?  Because it looks like you got cornered by just Cruelty,” Virgil said, smirking at him.

“Ah ha ha ha,” Remus said.  “But come with me, I want to hear what the heck the core sides wanted to talk to you about.”

Virgil followed Remus to the bathroom, looking him over as he did so to make sure he wasn’t hiding worse injuries.  He had a tendency to do that if he thought it would make Virgil nervous.

“You checking me out?” Remus asked as they both stopped in the bathroom.

“Yeah, you’re still smoking hot,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes.  “Don’t worry, your new scar will not take away from how attractive you are.”

“Virgil, please, everyone knows scars make someone more attractive.  Movies say so and therefore it must be true.”

“Uh huh, yeah.”

Virgil set Remus’ shirt and sash to the side to be washed later as Remus inspected the knife wound in his shoulder.  He was right, it didn’t look bad at all, and he cleaned and wrapped it in under a minute, then snapped a new shirt on over it.  “So, what did the core sides want?” he asked.

“Oh, apparently the fanbase loved me, and they wanted me to move over there to be in more videos,” Virgil said, waving his hand dismissively.

“Hang on, what?” Remus exclaimed, leaping up from his spot sitting on the toilet.  “What did you say?”

Virgil stared.  “I said no,” he said in bafflement.  “Duh.”

“You did what?  Are you nuts?  And I don’t even mean the fun kind, Virgil!”

“Oh, please.”  Virgil crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall.  “What am I supposed to do, leave you over here by yourself?”

“Um, yes.”

Virgil stood up straighter and dropped his arms.  “What— Remus, I’m not going to do that.”

“You get offered a chance to leave this hell hole behind and you turn it down for my sake?  Jesus, Virgil, I love you too, but come on.”

Virgil stared at Remus for another minute.  Was he serious?  It sounded an awful lot like he was serious.  “You… Remus, you’re joking, right?  This is a really poorly timed joke?”

But Remus was seeming to realize that Virgil was serious the same time Virgil was realizing that Remus was.  “Virgil.”  Remus reached out and put his hands on his shoulders.  “I just got stabbed in the shoulder, and we’re reacting like it’s a normal Tuesday around here because it is.  Listen to me.  You are going to get out of here.”

“Not without you,” Virgil said instantly.

“Yes without me,” Remus replied just as quickly.  “Have you thought this through at all, idiot?  Remember when Janus first went up there?”

Virgil scowled.  “What about it?”

“Everyone hated him at first.  Don’t you remember?  Remember why he went up there in the first place?”

“Yeah, of course.  Laura Singer.”

Thomas had met Laura when they were both in eighth grade, when he had found her crying behind the school because she was worried her parents were going to find out she was a lesbian.  Janus had shown up on a whim to make a suggestion, and that was how Thomas got his first girlfriend and came out for the first time simultaneously.  And through that, overtime, Thomas had gained a lifelong friend in Laura, and a core side in Janus.

“But what’s your point?” Virgil continued, crossing his arms.

“No one liked Janus at first,” Remus said, crossing his own back.  “He won them over overtime.  Who’s to say that can’t happen again?”

“It’s not going to happen fast enough,” Virgil insisted.  “I can’t leave you down here by yourself, you idiot.”

“What, you think I can’t handle myself?”

“I know you can.  But I also know three against one isn’t a fair fight.  I’m not going to leave you here, Remus.”

Remus narrowed his eyes.  “Yes you are.”  He sank out before Virgil could protest.

“What— Remus!” Virgil cried, sinking out to follow him wherever he went.

He ended up in the core side’s commons in front of all four core sides themselves, and most of them were already looking either very surprised or very displeased to see both of them.

“Hello, all,” Remus said with his too-wide smile.  “There’s been a change of plans.  Anxiety will in fact be coming up here to assist with more videos!”

“Remus!” Virgil hissed, trying to kick him while being subtle about it.  It’s not like he was going to outwardly disagree with him in front of the core sides, and Remus knew that.

“Oh, really?  That’s great, kiddo,” Patton said with a smile, standing from his spot next to Janus.

“I’m not your kiddo,” Virgil snapped.  “Don’t call me that.”

“Well, we’ll have to see, won’t we, maybe you’ll warm up to the idea while you’re up here,” Remus said, giving Virgil a large blindingly bright grin that made Virgil reach behind him and pinch him on the back of the neck.

“But he’s so thrilled for the opportunity,” Remus continued.  “He just needed a moment for it to sink in, you know, it was a bit overwhelming is all.”

Patton’s smile turned a bit confused.

A second later, Janus stood up, already scowling.  “You seemed very against the idea earlier,” he said lowly.

“Yeah, what the heck is with the change of plans Hot Topic?” Roman asked, crossing his arms from his spot against Janus’ other side.

“I just told you,” Remus said, tilting his head just enough for his neck to crack.  “He needed some time to process.  But he’s more than willing to move up here to join you all.  Aren’t you, Anxy?” Remus asked, turning his smile back onto Virgil again.

Virgil gave Remus a large smile back that poorly hid the fury of a thousand suns, and turned to face the others again.  “Yep.  Just thrilled at the prospect,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Oh,” Patton said, still sounding confused.  “Well, that’s wonderful ki— Anxiety,” he amended.  “Do you know how long you’ll need to move up here?”

“He can do it right now!” Remus called brightly.  “He already has all of your begrudging permission, right?”  Remus snapped his fingers and there was a loud crunching sound followed by Virgil’s room appearing down the hallway right next to Janus’ room.

Virgil grabbed one of Remus’ hands and yanked it behind his back so he could bend the fingers back, even though it was clear at this point that Remus wasn’t going to change his mind.

“Well, that looks perfect!” Remus said brightly.  “We’ll just make sure everything looks good, and then I will be out of your armpit hair!”

Remus sunk them both out again, and reappeared them both in Virgil’s bedroom.

Virgil immediately whirled on him and shook him by the shoulders.  “Why did you do that?” he snapped.  “You asshole, I told you no!”

“And I told you I’m not letting you turn down the one chance you have to get away from the others,” Remus said firmly.  “You’re staying here, Virgil.”

“Remus, it’s not just about that,” Virgil said.  “Don’t you get it, you just gave them an easier way to hurt you and pressure me into doing something to get them to stop.  You know what they’re capable of.  They could seriously hurt you.  They could kill you.”

Sides couldn’t die permanently, but they were way more vulnerable while reforming from death.  Getting hurt during that time was the kind of thing that caused permanent damage.  Virgil and Remus had always been there to watch each other’s backs when it happened before.  If they managed to kill Remus, while Virgil wasn’t there to help…

“It doesn’t matter,” Remus said, pulling Virgil from his thoughts before he could really start spiraling.  “Just don’t do what they say.”

“What— oh yeah, I’ll just do that,” Virgil said, stubbornly ignoring the tears welling up in his eyes.  “I’ll just knowingly let my only family get badly hurt while I live in the lap of luxury.  That won’t make me a huge fucking asshole.”

“You’re right, it won’t.  Because that’s exactly what I’m telling you to do.”

“Remus.  I can’t just leave you there.”

“Okay, fine.  Don’t.  Get them to like you, just like Janus did, and ask them to let me come over here once they do.”

“I said that isn’t going to happen fast enough!” Virgil snapped.  “How am I supposed to get them to like me?  I’m not exactly a likable side, Remus!”

“Virgil,” Remus said, raising an eyebrow.  “I get that this might be a difficult concept for you to understand.”  He leaned into Virgil’s face as if Virgil was missing something obvious.  “Play. Nice.”

Virgil scowled.

“Don’t be confrontational.  Maybe agree with another side every now and then and don’t constantly bring up the negatives to everything they say.  Try not glaring at Janus every time a word comes out of his mouth.”

Virgil opened his mouth to protest, only for Remus to shove his hand over it, which Virgil leaned back from instantly.  He didn’t want to know where that thing had been.  “Virgil, Janus is the main side you have to win over.  You do get that, don’t you?”

Virgil took a step back and let out a groan.  “Yes,” he mumbled, glaring down at the floor.  “I just… Remus, I don’t want to have to deal with him to get you out!”

“I get that.  I’m with you, okay?  But that’s just how it is.  Get Janus to like you, and he’ll be much more likely to let me come over here.  And that’s the only way to ensure that I’m not kicked out almost immediately.”

“I know,” Virgil grumbled.  “I…” he sighed.  He was being unfair, wasn’t he?  Remus was the one who would have to deal with the others alone, if he could do that, Virgil could manage to not scream at Janus every time he saw him.  “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll…” Virgil glared away.  “Play nice with Janus.”  He looked back at Remus.  “But I can’t just suddenly start being the friendliest side in the world to him, that’s just going to make him suspicious.”

“Okay, then try slowly working up to sucking his dick.”

Virgil winced.  “But Remus—”

“I can handle it.  I’m a patient side.”

Virgil snorted.  “Oh yeah, when I think patience, I think of you.”

“I know I won’t be able to get out immediately,” Remus said.  “It’s okay.”

Virgil looked back up.  Remus was biting his lip while frowning and not even pulling off a finger to chew on.

Virgil looked down and laughed bitterly.  “When did you get so serious?”

“Excuse me, is that a challenge?  I’ll strip naked right now.”

“Ew, no!” Virgil called, leaning forward enough to shove Remus’ back.  “You’re disgusting!”

“Thank you, I try.  And don’t ever call me serious ever again.”

Virgil looked over at him, smiling even as he shook his head in exasperation.

“I just trust you,” Remus said.

Virgil stopped smiling.  “Oh.”  He looked at Remus for another moment, then walked forward and pulled him into a hug.  “I’m not gonna let you down,” he mumbled into Remus’ sash.

“Yeah,” Remus said, hugging him back.  “I know.”

Remus pulled back after a minute and smiled weakly at Virgil.  “Okay.  I’m gonna go and add more traps to stop anyone trying to get into my room.”

“Let me help you,” Virgil said instantly.

“No,” Remus said, pushing Virgil back a little more.  “I’ve got this.  I’m gonna be on my own for a little while, I can—”

“Remus,” Virgil cut him off.  “Let me help you with this.”

Remus swallowed, and nodded.  “Okay.”

They both sunk out together and headed for Remus’ room, and Virgil tried to ignore the fear that was cropping up at all of this.  Remus would be fine.  He was Remus, he could handle himself.  Three against one still wasn’t fair, but that just meant he would have to move as quickly as he could.  He’d start tomorrow.  He could make everyone breakfast of some kind.  Pretty much everyone likes pancakes, right?

...

Chapter Two

[unfoundhoney]

a sister’s sacrifice ; part three ↠

↠ platonic!c!sleepy bois inc x fem!reader , platonic!c!tubbo x fem!reader ; angst just angst

↠ masterlist

↠ part one ; part two ; part three ;

↠ @leafyturtle @basheverythingyesterday @terribletoothbat @bestioe @junoblad3 @machiebach @ok-honey

when considering the deaths of the people on the dream smp server, yours is the hardest

schlatt was detested by all when he’d died

few people still truly cared for wilbur when he met his end; the man he once was was long gone by then

but you

you never changed

you were a constant for so many & immovably kind to the rest

selfless, giving, caring

even when you just wanted an escape, you came to the aid of your brothers

you gave the ultimate sacrifice & paid the price

everyone mourns you

when the battle is won & dream locked away indefinitely

once everyone has come down from the high of freeing themselves from dream’s reign, the server goes into a state of grieving

there’s no denying your death

they all saw the message in chat

you’re dead

those that were close to you took it hard

niki was narrowly stopped from burning down the bakery you encouraged her to open and helped build

eret put her emotions into work on a memorial in their museum for you

even under the egg’s control, bad & ant put the eggpire aside for you

of course, those who took it the hardest is your family

when ghostbur learns of your death, he’s distraught

he doesn’t quite know how to handle the information

he protects your home & only allows people to enter when he supervises them

tommy took a while to move past his anger & deal with the fact that you’re gone

tubbo ran off to start snowchester

he chose to distract himself rather than truly process his emotions, even if you’d always done your best to break that habit of his

now that you’re not around, who’s to stop him from letting himself be numb to it all?

techno is another one of your family members who chose to barely acknowledge your passing

he became somehow more monotonous & emotionless

and phil

...

there’s no word for a parent who loses a child

wilbur was gone & of course it messed phil up to be the one to take will’s last life but by that point his son was gone

but you

you’d always been such a genuinely good person

phil did so little for you as a father

he was so absent

he never apologized to you for that

he never told you how much he loves & appreciates you & everything you’ve done to keep their family together when he couldn’t be bothered

it’s a few hours after he received the news from ranboo that all the guilt for everything he had ever put you through hit him

he broke down in his kitchen while trying to distract himself by organizing his cupboards

but all he could think about was you

you & your never ending kindness & compassion

he was never a father to you

yet you never hated him

why couldn’t you have hated him?

it would hurt less to lose you if you hated him; it’s what he deserves

he’s unworthy of your love

but he can only dwell so long on you

you are given a proper funeral

you’re buried by the seashore, somewhere between l’manberg and tommy’s abandoned vacation homes in an open field

the sever members plant so many flowers, your gravesite becomes a flower field

but soon, life goes on

it will only hurt for longer to draw out the mourning period

it would do no good for anyone

besides, you wouldn’t want the server to be sad for your sake

techno supposes it’s for the best that you died

he does his best to move on, filling his days with resource gathering and upgrading his tools, weapons, and armor while trying to think through his emotions logically

as much as he liked you

as much as everyone liked you, you were too good

you were the best of them

fate is not kind to heroes

“hello!”

technoblade is not an easy man to sneak up on, let alone scare

the greeting itself isn’t want startles him

it’s turning toward the voice to lock eyes with you

you who is dead

techno is not proud of the sound he made when he saw you but you of all people wouldn’t make fun of him for it

he just stares at you, slowly realizing what’s happened

you look desaturated, the color drained from your clothes

your skin is grey & almost translucent

you’re a ghost

“y/n.”

“hello! who are you?”

techno tells no on one of your ghost form

he even keeps the rest of the server a secret from you

he leads you to your old home & leaves you there w/ ghostbur

he hopes your and ghostbur’s combined amnesia will keep you out of harm’s way i.e. the rest of the server

he visits you occasionally but mostly leaves you be

you live happily with ghostbur for a while

he is very glad to have you back

his memory is nearly as bad as yours, so the story of the server & what happened to you when you were alive is only given to you in bits & pieces that are near impossible to fit together

it was only a matter of time before someone came to visit your house

“...y/n?”

it’s tubbo who finds you first

or he finds your ghost

(tubbo) y/n! oh my god! you’re a ghost! you’ve come back!

(you) hello! *whispers* ghostbur, who is this?

(ghostbur, whispering obviously) that’s tubbo, one of your other brothers i’ve told you about

(you, whispering) oh, right

(tubbo) how long have you- oh, this is incredible! i have to tell tommy! he’s been so sad since you died; he’ll be so glad to see you!

tubbo messages tommy, who is skeptical but reluctantly comes to your house anyway

but there you are

your ghost anyway

which is good enough, honestly

(tommy) y/n!

you catch him in a hug easily, even if you’ve never met him before

(tommy) you’re alive!

(you) no i’m not. i’m a ghost!

techno happens to check in on you when tubbo & tommy are there

bad news for technoblade: you’d told them about techno leading you here

meaning: tommy knows techno hid you from him & everyone else

needless to say, he is not too happy about that

(tommy) you hid her! you kept her away from us!

(techno) tommy, you have to understand-

(tommy) i don’t have to understand shit! you hid her from us! you lied to us!

(techno) tommy-

(tommy) you kept her from everyone! you’re selfish and you’re a liar and you’re horrible and-

(techno) i did it to protect her! she’s been hurt enough protecting others; it’s our turn to protect her. the only way we can do that is by leaving her alone

(tommy) she’s my sister

(techno) your sister is dead, tommy. for once in her life, let her have peace

tommy gives up on techno & goes to you instead

(tommy) y/n! y/n, we can bring you back. we can revive you. well, dream can revive you but he’s in prison so he has to do what we say so we can bring you back. we can be a family again. don’t you want to come back?

(you) ...no

that

...

that isn’t what tommy was expecting

(tommy) what?

(you) if alive y/n comes back, i won’t exist anymore. and i’ve only just got here. i don’t want to go yet

(tommy) don’t you understand how much y/n means to me? y/n has to come back. she has to. she’s so important. not just to me but to, um... tubbo as well! right, tubbo? don’t you want y/n back?

tommy looks to tubbo for some backup but the shorter boy looks away

(tubbo) i think we need to let y/n go, tommy

the betrayal that fills tommy’s chest is soon gone as he locks eyes with techno

tommy knows techno is right

you’re too much of a good person

you’re too willing to sacrifice yourself for others

even as a ghost your kindness is blinding

this server will only drain you of everything you have yet again

he will drain you of everything you are

he’s just tried to convince you to cease to exist to bring back the former version of yourself

(you) i’m sorry. it’s just- i’ve heard there are these really pretty blue flowers in the swamp biome that i haven’t got to see yet-

(tommy) no. it’s fine. i’m sorry. i-... i should go.

tommy leaves your house & tubbo goes with him

even if tubbo caught on a bit sooner to techno’s reasoning, he’s still concerned at his friend’s sudden change in character

(tubbo) tommy... are you alright?

(tommy) ...i really want her back

(tubbo) i do, too. but she’s gone

(tommy) she doesn’t have to be

tubbo can’t argue with that

(tommy) but... maybe it’s for the best

(tubbo) really?

(tommy) yeah.

(tubbo) but just earlier you were telling me about your plan to get the revive book from dream

(tommy) techno’s right, tubbo. all everyone- myself included- has ever done to y/n is take. and she’s given everything

(tubbo) because she loved us

(tommy) as much as she loved us and as much as we loved her... the only thing we’ve ever brought her is pain. i think now... now is her time to rest.

(tubbo) ...that’s very pog champ of you, big man

tommy had planned to visit dream as many times as it took to get the revive book location off of him so he could revive you, but now he’s accepted that he needs to move on

he needs to move on from you & dream & everything dream has put him through

he decides to pay one last visit to dream, put him behind him, & never look back

he’s ready to start a new chapter in his life, one without dream

and the first one without you

but then he’s locked in the prison

two weeks pass

nearing three weeks & tommy still isn’t allowed out of dream’s cell

he’s irritated and annoyed and most of all he’s scared

but he can’t let dream know he’s still afraid of him, that’s why he pisses dream off enough to the point of being beat to death

tommy begs him to stop

but then he’s gone

everything is dark

black

empty

nothing

is this what death is?

conscious in absolute nothingness?

tommy’s feet feel the ground beneath him

his senses come back to him

it’s still dark but he feels as though he can see again

where is he?

heaven?

no, probably hell

or maybe neither?

both...?

what the hell happened?

the first thing to break the silence is the voice tommy has known since he was an infant

the voice of the person who raised him

the voice of the person who has always been there for him

the voice of the person who he has finally let go of

your voice

saying one simple word

“tommy?”

[mass-piplup-outbreak]

End of the Line - Chapter 12

[first] - [previous] - [next] read it on ao3 if you like the fic, please reblog!

special thanks to digitalpen and Asperanna for beta-reading this chapter!

Chapter 12: Opelucid (Part 2) Amends are made.

What is our family like?

Emmet turns the journal towards himself, dragging it atop the carpet of their childhood bedroom. When he reads the question, he takes a moment, sighing and tilts his head back against the edge of his bed.

“Hm,” he hums to himself. “Give me a moment to think about this.”

Ingo draws his knees to his chest, watching as Emmet nervously taps his foot against the floor. After a moment, Ingo is surprised to find himself mirroring that same anxiety. It makes sense he would react this way, especially considering he was blindsided by Iris’s whole existence, but something about the fact that he had to ask in the first place, well… It’s wrong.

Emmet quite suddenly leans back in, slapping his thighs as he re-engages with Ingo. “I have figured it out,” he states. “I will start at the beginning.”

And so he does. Ingo shifts forward, sitting on top of his legs and barely able to contain his excitement. He’s had some questions about this for centuries, and that list has grown since Emmet’s started talking about Drayden! Like, if he’s their uncle, is he related to their mom or their dad? Speaking of, why hasn’t Emmet mentioned their parents yet? Are they not on good terms? And where did Iris come from, anyway?

“Uncle Drayden is our uncle,” Emmet explains, and yeah, Ingo could have guessed that much. “He started taking care of us full-time when we were five. Before that, we lived with our parents, but we liked it more with him.” He smiles at that, and call it intuition or a half-memory, but Ingo thinks it was probably for the better.

“To him, you’re…” Emmet falters, looking down and idly tugging at his gloves. “You are Ingo. We both love you very much, but you were gone, and we… struggled.”

It’s funny. Ingo isn’t quite sure what it means to be Ingo.

“I am going to fix it,” Emmet suddenly insists. “Do you want me to tell him about you?”

Just the thought of it makes Ingo’s stomach twist. Or it would, if he still had one. But that uncertain and anxious feeling remains, a reminder that he’s not enough.

Still can’t remember much, Ingo writes. I don’t want to disappoint.

Emmet’s smile slips into a frown. “Ingo, you can’t- You will never be a disappointment. To any of us.”

Ingo knows that’s bullshit, Emmet’s barely dealing with all of this himself. He didn’t get much of a choice whether his brother found out, and Elesa doesn’t seem to realize just how bad his memory loss is. They’ve been subjected to this facsimile of who Ingo used to be, a mere reminder of someone who isn’t truly there anymore. But there’s no way he could do the same thing to Iris or Drayden, let them suffer the same way Emmet is. He may be a ghost, but he isn’t a monster.

Emmet nervously clears his throat. “I understand, though. I will do my best to keep your secret.”

It’s another weight added to the burden Ingo has left for Emmet to carry. He may not remember too much about Emmet’s habits, but he knows secrets are hard for him. He’s honest, and he’s apparently a better person than Ingo ever was. Just asking him not to tell the truth feels wrong, even if it’s only a lie by omission.

What about Iris?

Emmet considers this for a moment. “Oh right, you wouldn’t remember. I keep…” He trails off, and Ingo has a feeling he was about to say ‘forgetting’.

“I did not know she would be here this weekend. She came to live with Uncle Drayden when she was eight, so she could study Dragon types more. We would have been…” Emmet not-so-subtly counts out their age difference on his fingers. “Twenty-one, about. We weren’t living at home by then, but we visited a lot!” His grin gets just the slightest bit brighter, a bit more right.

From the few scattered memories that Ingo has been able to keep hold of, he knows that this is how Emmet is supposed to be. Happy, genuinely and truly happy. Not the front he puts on whenever he knows Ingo is looking.

“She was the Champion for a while, and she is currently training to reclaim her title,” Emmet smirks. “We were both proud to have a Champion in our family, even a former one.”

For a second, Ingo hesitates to write out his next question. The way Emmet speaks, like it should be obvious to him what he’s talking about, makes him think that maybe it’s better to hide this one. After all, it’s not like he won’t eventually figure it out.

But… Emmet did say Ingo would never disappoint him. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try.

What’s a Champion? Ingo asks.

Emmet stares at the page for a bit too long, just in time for that crushing guilt to return. He shouldn’t have said anything! Ingo should have just waited for the memories to come back on their own, like he has been! Though, that hasn’t exactly been working, but-

Ingo’s spiral stops when he notices Emmet’s smile growing even wider, and his eyes are practically shining in excitement. “Oh,” he says. “You are going to love this.”

‥

Recalling their Gym Challenge to Ingo leaves a happy, tingling energy in Emmet, the kind he has to shake out of his hands. Ingo seems to be matching his demeanor, if the countless questions about gyms and their badges are anything to go by. At some point, Emmet has to dig up some old photos of their badge collection that he left back in Nimbasa, just to prove to Ingo that he’s not making it up. Yes, people really do go around challenging each other to Pokémon battles here, and yes, it is extremely common to train your partners for such purposes.

In the back of his head, Emmet remembers hearing something about the bare basics of Sinnoh’s battling system being developed in the Hisuian Era. Poor Ingo! How could he fare in a land that had yet to reach the standards of modern Pokémon battling? Hopefully there was at least someone around who was willing to entertain him.

Emmet can practically see Ingo’s shocked face in his mind when he hears that they gave up before facing Champion Alder. They definitely could have taken him on, but the Unova League wouldn’t let them be co-Champions. What else were they supposed to do?!

At the very least, finding out they cheered Elesa and Skyla on for their attempts at the Championship seems to quell Ingo’s outrage. Even though they both lost horribly, it was still a fun day. They got popcorn, which Ingo choked on when Elesa managed to knock out Alder’s Bouffalant.

Just as Emmet reaches the height of Skyla’s battle, Swanna barely hanging on by her last leg, he hears the muffled, telltale sound of the front door opening. He stops himself mid-sentence, staring at their bedroom door.

There’s the sound of excited chatter, likely Iris informing Drayden of Emmet’s arrival. That happy feeling in his chest immediately sours and drops into his stomach. Fuck, why is he so nervous about this? He’s been telling Ingo just how much their uncle cares about them, and yet here he is, afraid to face him again after everything.

It’s been three years since their argument. Does Emmet really need to explain himself? He can probably still escape if he jumps out the window. That’s certainly the most reasonable response to this situation.

A sudden chill forms on Emmet’s shoulder, like someone’s pressing an ice pack against him that he can’t feel. Right, this isn’t about him anymore. He’s doing this for Ingo, for any chance that being here will recover the precious memories that he’s lost.

“Thank you, Ingo.” Emmet smiles for him. “I will be fine.”

Emmet quietly slips out of their bedroom, giving Ingo enough time to trail behind him before he carefully clicks the door shut. He takes a deep breath, psyching himself up before he continues down the hall. It’s okay, it’s okay, he can do this. He likes Uncle Drayden, for the Dragons’ sake! He shouldn’t be so scared right now!

What if Drayden doesn’t forgive him? What if he doesn’t understand?

Every step on the stairs creaks too loudly, even though Emmet is trying to be careful. Is this how Ingo used to feel when people told him to quiet down? It’s a cosmic irony, then, that he’s so silent now.

The base of their stairs is right by the front door, and that’s where Emmet finds them.

“I took Hydreigon out like you suggested,” Iris says. She’s standing to the side of the door, rocking on her heels as she speaks. “You were right! It really helped her get her confidence back.”

Drayden is turned away from her, but only to hang his keys up by the door. He’s nodding along to what Iris is saying, so he’s definitely paying attention. He hasn’t noticed Emmet yet, and one final burst of fear rushes through Emmet. This is his last chance! He can still make his escape!! He just has to go-

And then Drayden sees him standing at the bottom of the stairs, and that last second slips away. He looks shocked. Not mad or happy, just shocked. Like he didn’t believe Emmet was serious about visiting this weekend.

“Uh.” Emmet averts his gaze, shifting his weight between his feet. He squeezes one of his hands in the other, an old anxious tic. “Hello, Uncle Drayden. I’m sorry I haven’t-”

A hand suddenly clasps Emmet’s shoulder, and when he finally glances back up, he sees Drayden staring down at him with misty eyes. The twins never outgrew him, no matter how badly they wanted to. He makes Emmet feel small, like he’s still the child who lived here.

“Emmet,” Drayden says. “Welcome back.”

And as Emmet cries, held comfortingly by his uncle as though he were still little, he can only hope Ingo is proud of what he’s seeing right now.

‥

“Woah…” Iris thumps her head against the back of the couch. It looks new, especially compared to the antique aesthetic the rest of the living room has. Ingo gets the feeling that it wasn’t there the last time he made a visit, if his fuzzy and faded memories serve him right. Then again, they haven’t exactly served him well in the past.

While the rest of their family has chosen to sit on the couch, Drayden and Iris seated on opposite ends, Emmet instead elected to stand across the room from them both. He almost looks like he’s giving a presentation, though it’s on a rather morose subject. Ingo’s only hope is that by standing by his brother’s side, even invisibly, he’s offering whatever support he can.

“Emmet, that’s a lot to handle by yourself,” Drayden states. There’s an undercurrent to his tone, an implication that he would have preferred his nephew come to him instead of struggling on his own.

If Emmet is offended by being spoken down to, even if it’s out of concern, the only outward sign of it is the slight clenching of his fists.

“I know.” Emmet’s shoulders slump. “I didn’t believe it at first, either.”

“That’s not what I-” Drayden stops himself with a sigh. “I suppose it makes sense that you found the truth. You would not have declared him dead if you weren’t sure of it.”

“I-” Emmet’s voice cracks as he tries to fight back his tears again.

Iris suddenly pops up off of the couch, and barrels into Emmet’s chest. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?!” she sobs into Emmet’s shirt. “Ingo went to the past, and he died there, and that’s so messed up!”

Swallowing his emotions, Emmet tactfully pats the back of Iris’s head. “I know, I know. It’s not fair.”

They’re mourning someone who hasn’t existed for over three centuries. That’s the thought that strikes Ingo. The version of him that they loved disappeared along with his memories, and he’s not sure if he can ever be that person again.

Iris gently guides Emmet to the couch, between herself and Drayden. It’s awkward and forced, and Ingo can practically see Emmet resisting the urge to squirm.

“You, er,” Drayden clears his throat. “You said you weren’t convinced initially. What was it that changed your mind?”

Emmet suddenly sits up just a bit straighter. “Oh. I forgot the files in the city. Uh…” He snaps his fingers, pulling out his Xtransceiver. “They sent me an email! It has his picture!”

“They?” Iris questions.

“The Sinnoh Historical Society,” Emmet explains while scrolling through his Xtransceiver. “They’re the ones who realized… everything. Then they reached out to me.”

Huh. Actually, Ingo hasn’t put much thought into how exactly Emmet found out that he died. Or even how he found his grave in the first place. Curiosity gets the best of him, and as much as phasing through objects icks him out, he just has to know what they said to each other. Besides, hovering over Emmet’s shoulder to get a glimpse at his Xtrans screen is surprisingly familiar.

Which picture of him did the Historical Society send to Emmet, exactly? He’d stopped by the photo studio a few times, perhaps more than any of his fellow Pearl Clan members did. He was in Jubilife often, after all. Maybe it was the one Irida dragged him into, or perhaps the one Akari took by his side. Then again, Emmet hasn’t brought up the photo at all, so maybe he didn’t see it as important enough to mention.

Palina mentioned once that Iscan was scared of photographs stealing his soul, and even back then, the notion sounded outdated and superstitious. In retrospect, he was probably the one that was out of place, given that he was from the future and all. Though, as someone who’s just a soul, would he be endangered by having his picture taken? This is important to consider.

“It must have been sudden,” Drayden tries to empathize with his nephew. Ingo can’t help but feel bad for him, even if he doesn’t know the full story.

“Oh! Here it is!” Emmet says, completely ignoring his uncle’s attempt at civility. He opens the attached file, and when the image loads, Ingo’s eyes go wide.

He recognizes this one. It was one of his favorites.

The years have yellowed the print, leaving it faded and tattered. Despite that, Ingo can still recognize his own face, just like he did when Emmet found him. It’s him with Gliscor, and they took it together to celebrate the day first day trainers were able to attempt his challenges. His companion is draped over his shoulders in what almost looks like a piggyback ride, and even though they’re both clearly tired, they’re also happy.

Oh, Gliscor. What became of you once your trainer was gone? Did they ever find you and your team after you were lost in the snow? Or are you still buried in the Icelands, awaiting the day someone finally brings you home?

Without thinking, Ingo pokes a finger towards the picture, if only to trace his Gliscor’s face. Of course, the second he makes contact with the screen, the image distorts, warping and twisting. Ingo yanks his hand back, afraid to hurt Gliscor any more than he already has.

“Uh, sorry, it uh…” Emmet stammers, looking for a worthy excuse. “It’s been glitching lately?”

“He looks your age,” Drayden notes. “Maybe a bit younger.”

Iris yanks the Xtransceiver, and Emmet’s wrist by extension, closer to her face. “Really? He looks old to me.”

Well, if Ingo remembers correctly, he’d only been in Hisui for a couple of years before this photo was taken. How old is Emmet right now, anyway? That’s something he should probably know.

Drayden chuckles to himself. “You’ll be better at telling the difference when you grow up.”

“I’m an adult!” Iris insists. “I’m nineteen! That’s grown up!”

Emmet scoffs. “Barely.”

A moment of silence passes as Emmet retrieves his wrist from Iris’s grip. Drayden takes another look at the picture, his expression unreadable to Ingo. Maybe Emmet would know what he’s thinking, but Ingo simply does not know his uncle anymore.

Finally, Emmet speaks up. “I’m sorry, Uncle Drayden. For how I acted when you tried before.”

Tried… before?

Ingo’s unbeating heart drops at the implication, that last puzzle piece sliding into place. He doesn’t know a lot about what life was like for Emmet after he disappeared, and by extension, what exactly led up to him not speaking to Uncle Drayden for three whole years.

Call it a glimpse behind the curtain, but Ingo doesn’t like what he’s seeing. Could it really have gotten that bad while he was gone? That even when people came to the obvious conclusion that Ingo was gone for good, Emmet just couldn’t see it? That he’d ruin his relationship with their uncle, the man who supposedly raised them and loved them more than anything in the world, over the mere suggestion?

Drayden interjects. “Emmet-”

“I didn’t want him to be dead,” Emmet cuts him off, no longer bothering to stop himself from crying. “I know you probably hate me for it, but I was just so mad, and then you wanted him to be gone for good! I couldn’t- I couldn’t-” Unable to continue, he sobs into his hands, a raw grief that Ingo hasn’t seen in months.

Out of concern, Ingo rests his hand on Emmet’s shoulder, careful not to pass through him. Like he always does, Emmet shivers, which is another shovel-full added onto the massive pile of guilt that Ingo feels. After a second to process it, Emmet smiles again, although it’s weak and strained. At the very least, Ingo can let him know that he’s here.

Drayden and Iris both wrap their arms around Emmet, holding him as he continues to cry.

“I should be the one apologizing, Emmet,” Drayden says. Emmet sniffles and looks up at him. “I didn’t want to see you hurting anymore, so I thought-” His voice catches in his throat, and Ingo realizes he is not at all prepared to see such a strong and stoic figure cry over him. “I thought about what Ingo would want, but not what you needed. I am so, so sorry.”

Hearing this, Emmet starts to sob harder.

“You’re both idiots!” Iris shouts, which only makes the two of them laugh through their tears. Ingo snickers at that, and he has a feeling if Emmet could hear him do so, he’d smack him on the back of the head.

Watching the three of them cry together, Ingo thinks that maybe it’s alright that he isn’t there. After all, if they can sort themselves out without him and find laughter, then he sees no reason that he should hold that against them.

They’re family, at the end of the day. He wants them all to be happy, no matter how much it hurts to know he can’t be a part of it.

‥

The weekend passes by quickly, and come Monday morning, Elesa’s car is parked in front of Drayden’s house. She smirks as Emmet offers Drayden and Iris one final hug before departing for Nimbasa, and Emmet can already hear her “told-you-so” in his mind.

“Oh, there’s one more thing.” Emmet steps back, unhooking one of his Poké Balls from his belt. Since Elesa is planning on dropping him off right at Gear Station, he’s already dressed in his signature white work uniform. “It’s Haxorus.”

Drayden’s eyes narrow in on the Poké Ball. “I see. What’s the matter with her?”

“She’s been… upset,” Emmet admits, casting his pride aside. “Refusing to use certain moves, lashing out at her teammates. I do not know how to fix it. I think it may be good for her to spend some time with you.”

“Are you sure about that?” Drayden asks. “I know she’s an important member of your team.”

“She is, but…” Emmet sighs. “I’m not enough for her. I’m not Ingo.”

Drayden solemnly takes the Poké Ball from Emmet’s outstretched hand. “I understand. Some time with her family should do her some good. Iris and I will take care of her.”

“Yeah!” Iris jumps into an action pose. “Don’t worry Emmet! We’ll cheer her up real quick!”

“Thank you,” Emmet nods, smiling the slightest bit wider. “I will be back soon, so don’t make her think I abandoned her!”

From behind his beard, Emmet can see the corner of Drayden’s smirk. “I’ll be holding you to that promise.”

And so, after the hardest weekend of Emmet’s life, he slides into the backseat of Elesa’s car. She offers a small wave to Drayden and Iris before the retreat inside. Once they’re gone, she turns around in her seat.

“Before we leave, I need to ask you this,” she says. “Are there any spirits in the car with us right now?”

“How long have you been waiting to say that?” Emmet asks as he deposits Ingo’s pen and journal onto the seat next to him.

“I thought of it after I dropped you off,” Elesa answers proudly. “I only want to make sure we don’t accidentally leave Ingo behind.

Pulled by an invisible force, the pen lifts up and writes and simple message in the journal.

I am here.

“Ingo says he’s here!” Emmet relays to their dedicated driver.

“I can see that.” Elesa turns forward again. As she puts the car in drive and begins their journey to Nimbasa, she quickly glances up at Emmet through the rearview mirror. “So everything was good?”

Emmet smiles to himself as he watches Ingo begin to draw in his journal again. He’s usually a bit secluded about his doodles, so it’s nice to see him doing something he enjoys so openly. It’s a bit vague right now, but he’s drawing something with Noibat-like wings and a long tail.

One day, when Ingo is ready, they’ll tell Drayden and Iris everything. Ingo will get his whole family back, because after everything he’s been through, he deserves that much.

“Yeah,” Emmet idly remarks, already planning out his next steps to help Ingo remember. “Everything was perfect.”