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mischiefmaker615 · 9 months

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Bloodline (Pt.2)

Part 1

Rating: R dark themes

Summary: unable to gain children from his wife, Loki seeks out a mortal who can do it instead.

She hated herself for it, for not feeling as angry as she should towards the man that was using her. She shouldn’t be able to even look at him, let alone ask him to stay with her.. but here he was beside her, sitting down on the bed as they both kept eye contact to themselves. She was pregnant, and she trusted him that it was the truth, you’d think magic would be just as accurate as a doctor visit right? These past weeks of their.. ‘’routine’’, she’s become numb to his cruelty and- dare she say it, used to it. the struggle was gone..

‘’…you must really love this place.. to even go beyond the extent for it..’’ she whispered and her gentle tone made him turn and look at her, his expression still unreadable but it was gentle at the same time.

‘’I’m sure you’d do anything to protect your home.. the people you care about.. -I’m not expecting you to understand.. I’m not saying all this is right.. but..’’ he trailed off, not trying to justify that what he did was right, but.. he had too. He looked away from her, guilty making itself known after all these weeks of pushing it down.

‘’I’m sure I would understand if I had family.. I was orphaned as a child- to this day I’m not sure exactly what happened, grew up in the orphanage and got kicked out officially when I became of age. Lived every day just working, sleeping just to wake up and do it all over again-.. I didn’t have a purpose..’’ she explained, looking down at her hands as her heart beat past, not sure why she was giving her whole life story when she really should be killing him.. but where did her hate go?

‘’..didn’t?’’ Loki asked, looking at her as she finally raised her eyes to look at him back and she gave a mild shrug.

‘’one could argue that I can finally feel like I’m useful.. I’ve lived every day on repeat, no one back there would miss me.’’

Loki looked at her as if she were strange, raising a brow as he studied her features. ‘’..you were chosen because you resembled a goddess.. how do you find yourself unseen?’’

She sighed and her hand instinctually began playing with a lock of her hair, trying to register how she should feel that he called her beautiful, her cheeks reddened all the same. ‘’..others have different definitions and expectations as what they see as beautiful.’’

Loki merely shook his head, his mind wondering off as she looked at him as if reading his mind.

‘’not all mortals are idiots though.’’

The choice of words actually made Loki chuckle, knowing she knew what he had been thinking as those mortals had seemed to have terrible taste if they didn’t find her in their standards of beauty. ‘’well, you are most certainly the first mortal I’ve seen in my life time that I would call beautiful.’’

The conversed for a little while longer, small talk having a small hint of awkwardness to the whole thing considering how their relationship had started, but the small teasing here and there made it a bit easier to talk to each other. They mostly got to know each other, no one daring to talk about the whole reason why she was here, but merely about their lives, likes and dislikes- childhood and hardships. Loki most certainly surprised himself on opening up a bit to her, and the “venting session” as she called it, made him feel like there was an unknown weight off of his shoulders, as if he finally had someone he could talk too.

A feeling came to his chest, not guilt anymore- although it was very much still in his stomach. He hadn’t felt it in such a long time, not since he had started finding interest in Sigyn. Was it.. fondness to this particular woman before him? he half listened to what she was saying and upon realizing he was indeed feelings he was developing, he quickly stood up- startling her.

He kept his voice gentle with an apologetic bow ‘’I’m sorry love, I didn’t mean to frighten you, I just- I must depart right now- but I shall return.. to deliver dinner.’’

Another meal brought to her like a prisoner, and the mere sentence made her features lower just slightly- which didn’t go unnoticed by Loki as he looked away from her. ‘’..i shall return..’’ he promised, as if a second reminder would make her feel better- why did he care?

She was to be bred.. nothing more.. who was he to reassure? To explain himself to her.. of gods.. he cared.. he was guilty, he was growing fond of her.. why? She was indeed beautiful, his lust was getting extremely difficult to hold back as he longed to touch her, to have her come undone.. to have a connection deeper.. but her spirit, her fire and getting to know more of her life.. kept him wanting more..

“norns..’’

He cussed as he went down the halls in a rush, as if getting farther away from her room would help think all this wasn’t happening. His whole plan was simple: gain a child and that was all. Why.. did he have to fall for the mortal.

Yet he did just what he said. Upon delivering her evening meal, she asked him to stay.. and he did. The small voice in his mind told him he shouldn’t get attached and just leave once everything was finished upon stepping through her door, but it was to late. He was attached. They began speaking more, even laughing and Loki staying longer than he knew he should.

Sigyn would question his whereabouts, why his attitude had changed to a lighter tone but he merely reassured her that he was just content that Asgard had been safe through this time and would simply find different places to read- as to not cause suspicion nor would he be able to find him. part if him felt guilty at the same time that he was also betraying her, that although there was no real love towards her as a wife, he was still cheating on her behind her back. The other part of him felt alright with it because having a child would mean Asgard was secure and.. he finally was putting his happiness first..

That mortal woman was the first joy he had in ages only because he had fallen for her. It pained him to leave her and his loins ached for her. Ever since he found out she was pregnant, he had not touched her. Nor had he had time for himself and his wife would no longer suit his interests. Yet he got what he wanted, the child was damn near close to being born now, whenever he began to get hard when he would check on her, he would cut the meeting short and leave. He would not touch her now that he knew he no longer needed to.

An Asgardian child grew faster than a mortals, and the “potion” he had her drink daily allowed her body to adjust. Yet the due date came faster than he anticipated and although she felt fine like she wouldn’t go into labor that day, his magic told him it ad already begun. Despite her being confused, she always took his word for things because this was his realm, and he knew better so she trusted it.

He was able to convince her to fall asleep, so there would be even less pain and so that she wouldn’t get attached to the child if she saw him or her. A healer would be accompanying him and to her little knowledge, he had placed a spell so that she would forget most and think the one who had given birth was his wife.

Upon waking up, his precious mortal felt like nothing had ever happened. even her groin and stomach felt as if it were yesterday. Yet Loki stayed with her anyway while she got out of her daze, and to her surprise- she took his hand.

‘’what.. what happened?’’

‘’you have given birth love, the healer is now caring for the baby.’’ He said gently, sitting beside her on the bed as she lay still and looked up at him with confusion.

‘’oh.. and once the baby is all cared for?’’ she asked with hesitation.

‘’then our healer will lose all memory of her assistance and I will merely bring the child to Sigyn.. she will be a good mother, I promise..’’ he said gently, trying to ignore the guilt that rose again and how awful the words sounded leaving his mouth while she looked away from him.

‘’you will be a good father.’’

Loki’s lips parted, wanting to speak but words found it hard to leave his mouth. Her words were spoken true, he could sense that- even when he knew he had hurt her and all that he had done. He didn’t know what to say, he just gazed at her with the sudden need to protect, the gather her in his arms, to hold her.

‘’is it a girl or a boy?’’ her sudden words brought him back and he took a breath with a gentle whisper.

‘’it’s a baby girl.’’

Loki wasn’t able to see the small smile that tugged her lips, nor her tears as she kept her back to him. he had a hesitant hand raised to want to turn her towards him, but he stopped. He knew she was hurting, and all of this was because of him. turning away, he stayed with her a little while longer in silence before he finally left, hearing the faint cries through the door as soon as he shut it.

Damn it. damn it all…

He had held back tears upon seeing the child be born, but he didn’t want to go see her without.. her. For the mother not being able to see her child.. he understood the logic of it, but knew it was hard on her as well. And to not even being able to comfort her through it all. Damn it all!

He knew what he had to do.

The same boots that pounded through the halls to get her that day long ago pounded down the same halls to get her now. Loki practically ripped the doors open, startling her as she quickly wiped her tears from where she sat in a panic and looked at him concerned.

‘’what’s wrong? is the baby- what happened?’’ his darling mortal gasped as she saw the bruise on his cheek. She hesitated to see a small smile on his face despite it. ‘’..did Sigyn-‘’

‘’there is no more of Sigyn.. I’m done.’’

‘’but.. but didn’t you say the-‘’

‘’fuck the bloodline-‘’ Loki claimed, cutting himself short by the uncommon language that left his mouth he usually didn’t say. It must have been from spending time with her that he picked up some mild habits. Regaining himself, he took a deep sigh as he looked at her with a forced gentle voice.

‘’I’m done- I’m done with all of it.. you have been taken, then taken advantage of.. impregnated, isolated and now the child in which belongs to ‘us’ isn’t even able to be with you- I am the king of Asgard and I must protect its people, but if this is the king I have become then I will gladly step away from the thrown if it means I am to feel like this for the rest of my life!’’ he practically shouted at himself, looking away shameful as he paced, only to be stared at with wide eyes at his words.

‘’Loki..’’

‘’I have fallen for you love.. I can no longer contain myself nor deny it.. there is nothing I can do to rewrite the wrongs I have done.. only to try to improve on what I do now. You will be returned to Midgard with the child and-‘’

‘’no!-‘’

Her words stopped him as he stared at her, her voice being the loudest she had ever let it as he stayed put, watching her get off the bed and stand before him, grasping the nightgown to her body.

‘’..she needs a father.. I can’t do it by myself out there.. to not know who you are.. its as if its best if you and Sigyn keep her to yourself so she can grow up with two p-‘’

‘’Y/N..’’

Y/N stopped, being called by her name for the first time as she shook where she stood, tears threatening to run down her cheeks as she bit her lip.

‘’the child will have a father.’’ He promised and kneeled down before her, his head down as he felt his own tears threaten to fall. ‘’I will do everything in my power to help you, to help you both, to be there, to support you.. to love her.. and to love you if only you’d allow me to.. I’m done here. I can’t deny my feelings for you any longer.. and if you are to reject me, then allow me to love her as a father..’’ he whispered and closed his eyes as he breathed.

The hand on his cheek made him open his eyes as he looked up to her gentle ones, tears falling down the cheeks of both as he leaned his face into her palm. ‘’we will have you Loki.. it will be okay..’’

Loki slowly placed a hand on her own, knowing there would be much to take place but he knew the truth was better than to live a lie of lies and guilt. Sigyn would be okay, and deep down he knew she knew they were over a long time ago. As king, laws will have to change. It wont be easy, but he’d find a way to make them possible, and right now she was looking more of a being with power than he ever did as he slowly stood up but she kept his hand in hers.

‘’..let me see her..’’ she whispered.

She will be a great mother..

‘’yes.. my queen..’’

Final ♥

#loki odinson #loki god of mischief #loki x reader smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki x reader #lokifluff #loki smut #loki fluff #loki

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octuscle · 1 year

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H hello sir

I’m a first time chronivac user and I don't really know how to use it, could you help me ?

I want to become a chav/skinhead

They always fascinated me, all tuff and courageous, always drinking beer and wearing cool clothes the way they speak and probably ejaculating always

Im quite sheltered and lonely, just wanted a change

Could you help me understand this app?

Mate, you are now 44 years old and a clerk at an insurance company. The idea that you could become a chav comes rather late to you, doesn't it? But don't worry, we'll manage it. We take the setting "Retroactive change with age reduction". Speed one year per hour. This means that every hour you will become one year younger. And at the same time you get a different biography for one year longer. I already have the perfect target image for you.

Friday, 16:00. Let's go! You go out with your colleagues for a beer in the pub to start the weekend. But your colleagues are bored. They only talk about work. And seriously: You're not interested in your work when you're in the office. A few times you try to change the conversation to soccer or boxing. But your colleagues are merciless. Miserable sycophants and careerists. After an hour, you say goodbye and look for a sports bar. Your club is about to play.

This place looks very much to your taste. In front of the bar, a few lads hang out with the right jerseys. Well, you're still standing here in the suit from the office. But nobody cares. You take a cigarette out of your jacket pocket and join the lads in getting ready for the game.

8:00 p.m. What a game! It was on the line. But you rocked it! You get the beer shower with full force. Fuck it! The atmosphere is boiling. You take off your wet shirt and jacket. And celebrate with your mates! Just as you go out to smoke another cigarette, a few fans of the opposing team come by. You yell what kind of losers they are. And the first fists fly. But the last four years in the boxing club have paid off. Of course you have to take a beating. Damn, the nose is probably broken. But the others look worse…

22:00. You stand in your ruined clothes with your bloodied face in a doorway and piss. Fuck, you're drunk… But the evening can't possibly be over already. At your home around the corner you will certainly find another party. But first you have to change your clothes. You sit down in the bus and play with your cell phone. A few of the lads are still sitting in the park. You promise to be there in an hour with a few beers.

There, that's better. Tracksuit. Your best gold chain hangs in front of your chest. And your feet are in stinky white socks. Now it's the weekend! One of the mates has his boombox with him. The beer is warm and tastes like piss. But you have your fun. And thanks to the victory of your team there is also something to celebrate. Shit, you are horny… You can't help but jerk off. One of you had to start. And then you cum on each other's soccer jerseys. It's bad that the police comes by at that moment. Residents had complained about the noise in the park.

It's 3:00 a.m. when you leave the police station again after lengthy instructions. Hey, this should not be the first time this weekend that you come into contact with the cops. Two of the mates come with you to the apartment. For one last beer. And a hot threesome.

Fuck, it's 08:00 o'clock when you wake up. The shift would have started two hours ago. Ten calls in the absence of your boss. That's a thunderstorm. You have to promise to suck him off after his shift. And to take the early shift tomorrow morning. Fuck, Sunday mornings are always the worst for street cleaning. You know that because you make a lot of garbage yourself on Saturday night. At least you can lie down again after a smoke and a sip of stale warm beer.

14:00. Process completed. Here you are: A 22-year-old crook. Without a completed education. You'll be lucky if the money is occasionally enough for a new tattoo. But boi! You have fun in life!

#male tf #chronivac #muscle tf #reality change #wife beater #age reduction #chav tf

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solar-eclipses-stuff · 1 year

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Buddha and Hades with horned Y/N

Characters: Hades, Buddha

Yes, I think he wouldn't try to talk to you, because from the outside you looked like Poseidon

You were quite respected, but you were also feared for your heavy aura, although you were not evil, but there were all sorts of rumors about you

They didn't talk to you much about this, and in general you were consumed by a feeling of loneliness, and you decided to find someone who could chat with you

Why the Buddha? You didn't understand it yourself, it's just that when you especially needed communication, it was as if he found you himself

Yes, and then you started talking, you were older than him, but that didn't make it any less interesting with him

After that, you began to communicate more, of course there were no incidents, he was genuinely surprised when you said that you had never eaten popcorn.. I think then you fully appreciated his kindness)

Your ears and horns were certainly noticeable, but he did not immediately see them, then when you were sated with conversations, he looked around and realized that your ears were longer than usual, he thought you were an elf, but the horns confused him

You explained that you didn't quite know the name of your race, you were something between an elf and a dragon, so to speak a love experiment, of course you also had a tail and wings, but you couldn't turn into a full-fledged dragon

Therefore, when he asked to ride him, you refused and said that you would not lift him (😀)

I think he will try to touch your ears, but this should not be allowed! The skin on the ears is especially tender, (according to all the canons of the big-eared) and the horns were not so sensitive, so let it touch you to your health

Of course you were older and you were generally brought up differently, that's why you extended the courtship season, of course when your relationship reaches a new level, it will definitely take several years (millennia if he didn't rush you)

When you first kissed, you bit his lower lip, and he didn't feel strange to you, and in general it tasted like blood that then poured out of his lip, from that moment you became more careful

Maybe a little later you will still allow me to touch your ears, but he still needs to get to that, just let's do him good luck, ok?

King of the underworld, an interesting title and for you it was no exception

Hades is the king of the underworld, you knew about him, but you were interested in his personality, what was he like? Like his younger brother Zeus or like Poseidon? You didn't know but you were interested

He did not visit Valhalla often, so when he nailed you were more than surprised

Yes, he looked like Poseidon, and he looked calm and balanced, you approached him and started a dialogue first, of course you didn't really hope for an answer, because if you are respected and revered here, it's not to know that he knows about you

But your thoughts scattered when he answered your request. Oh, yes, he was not completely like any of his brothers, so to speak, the golden mean

Of course, he was older and had no more experience, and for you he was extremely interesting, and in general he didn't care about your aura (which you can't hold) because in general he was stronger and could just crush you

He was immediately interested in your race, he learned about a slightly strange couple that your parents formed

You could chat on duty, exchanging experiences and stories from life, you liked each other)

I think your courtship stage was long enough, so much so that Aphrodite already began to be interested

The first kiss.. It was passionate, perhaps because of this expectation, it tasted tart like wine/grapes with an admixture of honey, of course you already bit your tongue, but it didn't hurt, although it added a taste of blood

Well, in general, you are both elegant and charming, a good couple I think)

#record of ragnarok #shumatsu no valkyrie #buddha x reader #record of ragnarok x reader #record of ragnorak #ror #record of ragnarok buddha #ror x reader #hades x reader #record of ragnarok hades #ror hades

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redisaid · 5 months

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Beneath the Blue Moon - Chapter 9

Gibbous

Oh hi. Happy 2024. Yes, I'm still working on this. Let's play sad lore retrospective with Jaina for a bit.

4643 Words

Read it on Ao3!

Do you know the ache, how the bitterness tastes to me? It makes my heart run cold But when I hear your name I get lost in the memory Of the kingdom that we built before

Vereesa Windrunner, unlike her sisters, was petite and always put-together, lacking that air of wildness about her. But, that certainly didn’t mean she had any less of a temper.

Her shrill query of, “You agreed to what?” could be heard throughout the vaunted halls of Proudmoore Keep, and certainly so in the Lord Admiral’s chambers.

“Vereesa, please,” Jaina offered, all the more tired of being the continued voice of reason. “You haven’t let me finish explaining.”

“And you haven’t listened to anything I’ve told you about her,” Vereesa went on.

She paced before the great hearth, having abandoned the seat besides Jaina’s and in front of a roaring fire that sought to stave off the chill of yet another dreary day in Boralus. The rocks glass and the two fingers of good Kul Tiran whiskey within it lay untouched on the armrest of the empty leather armchair, not having been allowed to serve its purpose of tempering this conversation.

Vereesa herself was still clad in the regalia of the Ranger General, though not of Silvermoon or any place at all. Her Silver Covenant were homeless in that regard, so small in number, so scattered in a world where their people had suddenly split into three peoples within a matter of a decade. A blink of an eye for an elf.

Jaina had given little thought to how jarring that might be. Until now, at least.

And it was even more jarring to consider a fourth people among those that were once High Elves--the undead ones.

“That corpse is not my sister,” Vereesa went on in emphasis of this. “I’ve told you myself what I saw when Alleria and I attempted to reunite with her. And now you want to meet her alone?”

Jaina had not intended to share this fact, but it seemed wrong not to. She had assumed that Vereesa came calling to discuss the nature of this new ceasefire, and had been informed as to much of the goings on regarding it. But now, seeing her tread a trench into the floorboards, Jaina wasn’t sure her worry came from ignorance or a greater wisdom.

The third Windrunner sister to be called any sort of General had been on a mission to scout deep in the interior of Zandalar, in a desert region known as Vol’dun. She’d only arrived back in Boralus that morning, and apparently had been quite confused at her troops being recalled from enemy territory due to a ceasefire agreement.

And to say she was incensed about Jaina’s plan to meet with Sylvanas that evening was an understatement.

“Things have changed,” was all Jaina could offer to that.

Because she still wasn’t sure what had changed. Mechanically, yes, Sylvanas had the whole of her soul back and it had changed her dramatically. She’d stolen herself back from death, and in doing so had brought an army of winged skeletons upon the newly combined forces of the Horde and Alliance. She had warned them. She had explained for the whole of the Alliance to hear.

But it still didn’t quite register. Even as Jaina watched those newly blue eyes track her across the deck of the joined ships, before, during, and after the battle against the things she had named Mawsworn. Even as Jaina reached out to her, touching skin that was as cold as she’d thought it to be, and reeling from the feedback loop caused by their renewed soulmate bond, she didn’t understand it all.

It had been easier to say to herself that Sylvanas was dead. Her soulmate was gone. The woman who walked the world in her place was indeed a cruel apparition, a taunting symbol of failure, a banshee wailing for a loss she could no longer comprehend.

The reality, it seemed, was far more complicated. And Jaina felt she deserved a chance to know it. That was why she agreed to speak to her, to attempt this understanding.

Or at least that was how she rationalized it to herself.

Explaining that to the short, burning fuse that was Sylvanas’ younger sister, however, was another matter.

At least it wasn’t the older one.

“And you believe her? You believe what she of all people is telling you?” Vereesa accosted, still making laps around the fireplace.

Now that was a tougher question to answer. The glowing mark on Jaina’s hand told her the obvious, and should have made it as simple as that. But it wasn’t. It never would be.

“You have to understand--” Jaina started, though she didn’t herself.

“She was going to have Alleria and I killed!” Vereesa reminded her.

Jaina knew her version of the story well enough. Her old friend had come to her the night before Teldrassil had burned with a tearful confession. A tale of three sisters, none of whom seemed to be able to see eye to eye, meeting with a common goal to rid their ancestral home of the undead. Or, well, the undead not in control of their actions, as it were.

Vereesa had only wanted some measure of peace, some closure from this meeting. What she got instead was a view of the true faces of her elder sisters, or so she claimed, and a fear of both of them. With tears staining the silvery memorial mark of her own great loss so plain on her face, she had told Jaina she felt both were lost to her.

The accusations of attempted murder had come from a sighting of Dark Rangers, bows drawing and waiting, and Sylvanas’ hand signal to call them off of those shots.

Jaina wasn’t about to make excuses for that. No, Sylvanas would have to explain herself, to her sisters, her soulmate, and anyone else who might care to listen.

Her silence was perhaps what finally made Vereesa stop pacing. She looked up from her feet beneath a curtain of silvery hair to find Jaina starting back at her, and stopped dead in her tracks.

“I’m worried for you, you know,” Vereesa said, hands coming to rest behind her back, shoulders straight as she collected herself. Still every bit as militant as her sisters despite it all. “With what I’ve heard--I can’t imagine how you must feel. If Rhonin were to…”

Ah yes, the great river between them that was Rhonin. Rhonin, who was instrumental in all of this, really. Rhonin, who had worked with Jaina in Dalaran when she was still an apprentice. Rhonin, who managed to finally introduce Jaina to his mysterious elven wife and soulmate, who was usually too busy or too distant to make it to social gatherings in the city of mages. Rhonin, who grinned along with Vereesa as she shook Jaina’s casting hand, turned it over, still held in her own, and remarked that she’d seen that mark before, or at least one strikingly similar, and that she knew someone Jaina just had to meet as soon as she possibly could.

Rhonin, who had died with one last spell on his lips, protecting Jaina with that final incantation. Rhonin, whose ghost was a silvery mark on Vereesa’s cheek for her tears to well in, a constant reminder of loss. Rhonin, who would never stalk the world as an undead abomination for thirteen years, only to come back fully to himself out of the blue and blaze that mark alight again with wild accusations about the cruel nature of death, and paranoia about some cosmic Jailer that were apparently all proving true.

Jaina watched the words fall from Vereesa’s lips, unspoken. Her understanding too, came in silence. If somehow, someway, the same had happened with Rhonin, she would go. She would meet him. She would ask her questions. Even if he had done it all. Even if he had burned Teldrassil, and had his Rangers’ bows trained at his own family. She would go.

Jaina lifted her own rocks glass, draining the remainder of the contents. Two fingers of good Kul Tiran whiskey weren’t going to help her, or help this, but they certainly couldn’t hurt it.

“I’m worried about me too, Vereesa,” she started, setting her glass down and reaching for Vereesa’s to hold it out to her in one of many of this week’s peace offerings. “But I have to go to her. I have to know. Now please, sit down and talk to me about it.”

---

Jaina wondered at whose bright idea it was to build a city on what was essentially a graveyard of a battle where it seemed no one really won.

But, it had been hers. All of it. The city, the battle, the losses. The look in her father’s eyes as she sat idly by, betraying him with inaction. The panic in Rhonin’s as he shoved her through the portal, away from the destruction that would mark the end of the brief existence of the city she’d named Theramore.

And now it was nothing but a ruin, so poisoned with an excess of arcane that even she couldn’t venture far into its remains. Instead, Jaina waited on a rise overlooking the destruction of her own ambitions. She waited to be destroyed again, perhaps.

Those early days in Kalimdor were like fever dream to her still. Bright and hazy and punctuated with the roiling current of emotions she kept at bay with work and duty. After all, one couldn’t get lost in mourning one’s soulmate if one was too busy trying to keep the survivors of multiple ruined nations fed and sheltered in a strange land, right?

As awful as it was, that would have been easier. The finality of knowing that Sylvanas was gone and there was nothing she could do about it was easier to accept. People died. Wars ruined everything. It was simply a fact of life in Azeroth, one Jaina had already known well in her parent’s mourning of Derek.

But she remembered too, and vividly so, the day she found out that her situation wasn’t so clear cut or perhaps so final.

Jaina looked across the debris at the remains of her tower, once a place bustling with people she’d never see again, and memories so evocative they clung to the very stones, crumbled and toppled though they were.

The news had come in a missive from Stormwind, a report of Alliance forces who had held out in Lordaeron, attempting to reclaim the capital of the infested nation from the undead. It was a letter meant to inform of military failure, nothing more. It seemed that Grand Marshall Garithos was poised to retake the city from the demons and undead who controlled it, but had been betrayed by the free undead he allied with at the last moments. Leading them, along with the effort to betray Garithos? Sylvanas Windrunner, of course--now a banshee, but apparently still as cunning as she had been in life, and very much opposed to giving control of the city back to the living.

Jaina could remember the moment she read that name. She could remember the polished wood of her desk, the warmth of the fire crackling in her hearth and the smell of its smoke. Wet wood from the marshlands always gave off much in the way of smoke. She could remember hearing Pained shuffle outside the door to her chambers, booted feet on stone. She could remember the tears that welled in her eyes, the confusion at which she looked through them to her hand, and saw the mark on it was still silver. But the name was there.

Sylvanas Windrunner still existed, in some part, but not any that was meant to love her. And this, Jaina knew even then, was far worse than her just being gone.

She’d searched for every scrap of news from Lordaeron thereafter. Anything she could hear or find or send someone to know on her behalf. From the rumors of sailors--though no Kul Tirans would dock at her port--or the tall tales of neutral goblin merchants; all were equal in value to her, as the truth came in so few trickles those days.

But that truth rang the same every time. Sylvanas Windrunner was out there, undead and angry, rightfully so, but in the wrong way. She fought to keep the living out of Lordaeron. She would eventually come to ally with the Horde. She would be central to bringing the newly dubbed Blood Elves in with her and her Forsaken undead.

And Jaina was always left to wonder what might have happened if, instead of hanging on to scraps of news from others, she had reached out herself.

Though Sylvanas hadn’t reached out for her either.

Their separation across the continents was quite symbolic, really. They would not meet again until the Undercity was attacked. Even then, it was a pained look across the room, one that Sylvanas refused to acknowledge. From then on, Jaina would do the same for her.

That had told Jaina what she already knew. Her love was dead. Their bond was a thing of the past. There was nothing there to be saved, no threads to sew together again.

It seemed as though everything of hers was doomed to end in such bitter emptiness. No, that wasn’t the right word. Just as it was with Theramore here, silent save for the hum of excess arcane and the distant crash of waves, as no birds could brave the damaging magic of the area--Jaina was always left staring out over a ruin of her failures, and they would not look back.

No wonder she didn’t know what to do now that blue eyes stared back at her with a longing she had long since banished in herself.

The sun was setting behind the mountains that separated the wetlands of Dustwallow marsh from the high plains of the Barrens. It painted the waters of the swamp and sea alike a glowing orange--a strange contrast to the pulsing purple of arcane that still clouded the ruins. Jaina herself had taken part in the calculations, along with her fellow members of the Kirin Tor at the time, and she knew exactly how long it would be this way. Centuries was the answer. Far longer than the brief existence of her sanctuary city. This refuge of refugees would be a glowing, dangerous ruin long after any that remembered it as anything else were gone.

A hole in her heart. Another scar upon a world already scarred so deeply, so violently, so quickly.

The Dark Portal had opened when Jaina was three years old. She was busy chasing seagulls on the docks of Boralus then, and had no concept of the changes it would bring to her life. She had no idea how it would bring cities to topple, or dragonfire to rend rifts in the very land, or a giant sword to pierce its heart. She had no idea then, a little blur of blonde hair and energy, that she would never know a life of peace because of it.

And even now that another tentative peace was on the table, and a scar waiting to potentially be healed, she was too wary to trust either.

“You were just another ruin for me,” Jaina said to nothing and no one, for that was all that was left of Theramore.

And the person she’d truly meant the words for hadn’t arrived yet.

Once, in her tower here, Kinndy had touched her mark, sliding tiny fingers over the silvery skin. Gnomes were like elves, and honestly most of Azeroth’s longer-lived races, in their deep respect for the binding of soulmates. Kinndy was young, her own mark still dull and untested--neither bereft of her chance to meet the one she was meant to love, nor yet ready to.

Still she had understood.

“You don’t have to act like nothing’s wrong all the time, you know?” she’d told Jaina that evening, alone with her in the tower.

What had spurred the comment was anyone’s guess. Jaina couldn’t remember the context. Maybe she’d looked especially tired that day. Maybe she’d let herself doze into the spell tome they were going over together. Maybe she’d let the distance she felt from herself catch up to her eyes.

“What do you mean?” had been her question.

Kinndy had patted the silver skin of her hand, the dull shine of the moon. “You have to be sad. I mean, I know you are. It’s okay to be sad sometimes, especially when you have reason to be.”

Reason after reason after reason would pile onto Jaina. She attracted them like a magnet did iron. Like honey for flies. And now the bright spark of a girl and her pink pigtails and goofy little smile were another thing for Jaina to mourn. Another memory she felt could never be given the justice it deserved.

Tears, even, that Jaina could not shed. For if she cried for Kinndy, then it was wrong she didn’t cry for Pained. For Rhonin. For papa. For the soldiers that had looked to her as their hero, their savior. For the kind vendor that always tossed an apple at her from his cart, and wouldn’t take no for an answer when she tried to pay for it.

Tears she couldn’t even reserve for Theramore, lest they should belong to the people who died in the effort to stop Archimonde in the battle to save this very continent. Even before that, for those who died in the wake of Arthas and his arrogance. Years after that, for those who died with Horde axes in their backs and blood red banners shoved into their skulls. For the Sunreavers she’d slaughtered in her rage at the Purge of Dalaran. For those people on both sides she’d failed during her inaction at the Legion’s invasion, still so deep in that anger that it drove her, for once, to simply do nothing.

What she’d told Kinndy that day had remained true, even after all this time.

“I am sad,” Jaina had said once. “But just because I’m not crying about it doesn’t mean I’m not sad. Life has to go on, even when we lose people in it. It’s our duty to them to carry on. So yes, I’m still very sad, I suppose. But I carry on.”

Jaina Proudmoore always carried on, even as the world crumbled around her, bit by bit. It was the only thing she had left to do.

Her resolve to continue that settled in, only to be shaken by the sound of distant wingbeats, heavy and solitary.

The whiskey she’d downed in her efforts to temper Vereesa did nothing to prepare her for the arrival of her older sister. Sylvanas was a distant speck in the sky, seated atop a giant bat, flying in from the north, from Orgrimmar.

How dramatic. She couldn’t have just had someone portal her in, like a civilized person, could she?

Though Jaina supposed she might have wanted her own time to think, as such a flight might afford. Orgrimmar was not that far to the north, and the bat was fast in its approach. A small measure of time alone was likely as much a luxury for Sylvanas as it was for Jaina. She could not begrudge her for wanting it.

But yes, the bat was very dramatic. Even as the creature landed--sending swirls of dust into the air with one last lazy flap of wings that seemed both too heavy and too small to keep such a creature aloft--there was no lack of drama about it.

Not even in the way that Sylvanas hopped from its back, landing on the ground with graceful ease, then took one step forward, and stopped.

She was about a hundred feet off toward the north, away from the edge of the cliff. Close enough where Jaina could still meet the searching blue of her eyes. The face that was both different and too similar to how it had been in life, now that it wasn’t set in an angry scowl.

No, she looked on in question. She was asking permission, but lacking for the words.

Sylvanas didn’t know what to say to her.

“You might as well come here,” was what Jaina told her for her silence.

In life and in death, there was no doubting Sylvanas was an incredibly beautiful woman. Jaina had not spared her a glance in these thirteen years and the handful of times within them that they’d been in the same room. Her once-lover was a fleeting shadow on the edge of her vision, a ghost in eyes purposely darted away from an abomination that should not be. But now, looking upon her again, really looking, for the second time in as many days, there was no denying she was still beautiful. A beautiful woman from a beautiful family born of a beautiful people.

Not the same way that her sisters were, though. Not rugged and honed as Alleria was, like savage power of the tooth and fang of a great beast. Not petite, organized, and spritely as Vereesa was, her pixie nose up-turned further even in her anger that afternoon, a child’s toy marching in her pacing. No, Sylvanas was in-between them, just as she had been in birth. Neither feral nor fae, yet a little of both. Tall for an elf, but just a hair shorter than Jaina, though she’d say they were of a height if asked. Or she did, back when she laughed and joked with her Rangers.

Back when that skin was golden, dotted with errant freckles from the eternal summer sun of Quel’thalas. Now it was ashen, almost purple in hue. And cold. She had been so cold when Jaina touched her.

But she was still beautiful. In a different way, perhaps. Militant in her march toward Jaina, in her purple armor and its silver skulls. In the wine color of her cape, floating behind her in the wind and the dust that still hadn’t settled from her landing. In the creaking leather of the rest of her kit, clean and shining, no longer splattered with gore and broken feathers from battle.

Such a formal gait could mean only one thing. Jaina felt it loop back from Sylvanas in an anxious, chest-deep confirmation.

She was nervous.

Nervous as she had been the first time Jaina met her. Before she could feel the echo of her tension. She’d read it on her face then. The subtle twitch of long ears. The straining of a striking jawline.

Jaina too, had been nervous, but the feeling had washed away when she’d seen how beautiful the elf who shared her soul mark was. How lucky she was to have her.

And now, ruin for ruin, white hair and bags beneath her eyes, staring out over the closing distance at this pallid, undead version of that nervous woman she’d first met not so long ago, Jaina could not help but think that perhaps undeath didn’t suit anyone so much as it did Sylvanas Windrunner. She was a beautiful ghost. A ruin, but at least one that was striking to behold.

“I had it in my head that you wouldn’t come,” was what Sylvanas finally found the courage to say as she came within arm’s length of Jaina, then stopped again. “That I would fly around and not see you and give up for the dark. But you came.”

“I said I would.”

Truth be told, the resolve to follow through on her word had taken another two fingers of good Kul Tiran whiskey after Vereesa had left. It had taken the tears of Sylvanas’ younger sister, and an unasked for pep talk from her mother that Jaina was already trying to forget. It had taken an hour of staring out over the ruins of Theramore, deciding to stay--deciding that she too was a thing broken, and that a chance to be mended in some small way, was worth taking, even if it was difficult.

Sylvanas reached out a hand, absent its gauntlet. A hand with a wrist beneath it that glowed a brilliant blue in the shape of a moon beset with snowflakes. Yes, Jaina had decided the pattern was snowflakes. She had to have something of it for herself.

She snatched it back. She looked at Jaina, herself a painting of foreign colors. No longer gold, but fiery orange from the setting sun, lavender in her bloodless skin, and blue eyes, not grey.

Changed, scarred, another creature so ruined by Azeroth’s slow spiral, but still beautiful.

“I’m sorry,” was the second thing Sylvanas said to her, as they stood alone on the cliffs over what was once Theramore.

“For what?”

The words sounded so accusatory. Perhaps they should have. For the mana bomb Sylvanas might have stopped from destroying this place. For Teldrassil. For dying. For still being here, despite dying. For dying again after that. She should be sorry.

But Jaina hadn’t meant them like that. She didn’t know how she meant them. Maybe just to know. Maybe just to reconcile the feelings that roiled over their bond. A boiling sense of shame, bubbling up in the throat. A longing that hurt as it gripped the chest. A fear, a subtle thing weighing heavy in the pit of the stomach.

“Everything,” was Sylvanas’ answer.

But that would not be enough. Jaina wasn’t certain what could or would be. There was no apologizing, really. If anything, Azeroth owed them both apologies. Perhaps Medivh for opening the portal. Perhaps Gul’dan for building it. Perhaps Sargeras, for the legion. Perhaps Azshara, for making him aware of this world and its treasures in the first place.

Still, Sylvanas wanted to talk. She wanted to give an apology. She felt so much and so deeply that it bled into Jaina like a dye leeching into wash water. It stained her black.

“I don’t think you came here to list the things you should be sorry for,” Jaina told her.

Sylvanas had not. Perhaps she’d had a plan for what she’d wanted to say. How she’d wanted to say it. When and where. Jaina, it seemed, threw a wrench into these.

Sylvanas reached out again, and let her hand fall empty again.

“I can start, if you like,” she offered.

Jaina didn’t want that. She didn’t wanted a bulleted list, much as she loved organizing such things. She didn’t need boxes checked. She wanted so much from this conversation, but knew she might not get any of it.

Mostly, she wanted to understand why she felt guilty for not reaching for that empty hand. She wanted to know if Sylvanas felt that from her. If she had an answer for it.

Jaina wanted anything to make sense. She was comfortable with ruin and devastation. She knew them well. She understood them. She was an expert at working through grief.

What she didn’t know how to do, though, was rebuild.

“I don’t need that from you,” she told Sylvanas. “But I do want to know what it is you wanted to tell me. Why it is you wanted to meet.”

Jaina supposed she owed it to herself. For Theramore. For Teldrassil. For the sword in the side of Azeroth. For the grief she didn’t have time to feel. For whatever reason. She supposed she owed it to Sylvanas too. Not an apology, as there was no apologizing to be done.

No, she owed her a chance. She owed herself a chance. A chance to do something different, for once. A chance to take the ruins apart brick by brick, and build them up into a new tower.

#sylvanas windrunner #jaina proudmoore #sylvaina #fanfic #beneath the blue moon #this fic takes me forever to write because i have to jam so much lore into it #but that's also fun sometimes #hopefully chapter 10 soon

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entomolog-t · 4 months

Text

Valentine's Day Special- Conversation Hearts

Happy Valentine's Day! As a treat here's a not-currently-canon-but-maybe-future-canon short for INSTAЯ as a part of the G/t Valentine's Prompt List.

Bram find's a new way to get his messages across.

Word count: 759

(Bonus there is some that will accompany this short- I'd just like to get a little farther on GtWAC and my comissions before taking the time to finish)

____

“I know you washed your hands but there is something deeply wrong about that.”

Bram pulls back his hand from the batter with a glare, chirping incomprehensible words, yet the cadence made it clear he was mocking me by mimicking my chiding. Below us, Honey whines, desperate for her share of Bram’s stolen batter.

I return his glare, though I can't help but chuckle at his disdain as I shoo him away from the bowl. His eyes narrow as he chitters some sort of grievance at me, Honey’s pleas going unanswered as he makes quick work of the batter coating his claws.

The sight sends a chill down my spine.

Was that a tongue? I shudder, not wanting to think too long about the logistics of how his nightmarish mouth worked. I turn my focus away from what I'd come to recognize as his muttering and back to the task at hand, whisking in the pistachio cream and cardamom extract, the batter taking on an almost cozy scent. One by one, I fill the cupcake papers, a grin tugging at the corners of my lips at the thought of how nice the house would smell as they baked. The soft music playing nearly hid the sounds of his talons as they clicked across the countertop- thankfully, away from the batter.

It felt … good.

Normal even. Just to be able to ease into something familiar again, if only for a moment.

For just that singular moment, I could get lost in a fantasy where there wasn’t a tiny abomination trying to sneak a taste at the cupcake batter… A fantasy where Bram was… Bram and we were just a normal pair of people spending time together.

My relief didn’t last long, as the unmistakable sound of a plastic bag rustling broke through the cozy ambience.

I frown.

He’d, quite literally, gotten into the Conversation Hearts Clyde had dropped off that I’d been planning on using as toppers for the cupcakes.

“You overgrown cockroach,” I scold, though the smile that tugs at the corners of my lips dulls any edge the insult carries, “You act like I don’t feed you.”

The bag chirps with what I can only assume is some snide retort thrown my way. I sigh, smile still tugging at my lips as I move the tray to the oven. Had he always had such a sweet tooth, or was this something to do with -

A sort of whistling chirp abruptly pulls me away from my thoughts. I turn my attention to Bram- a conversation heart in his main set of arms. As I’m about to make a comment about his digustingly sweet choice of snack, he holds the heart out towards me and I feel my own freeze in my chest.

Oh.

I stare at him for a moment. What could have only been a second seeming to stretch far longer than reality should permit.

There was a dreadful feeling of both being caught off guard and knowing exactly where this was going- my brain rattling off various little sayings printed on those hearts.

Be mine

You’re cute

Love you

I felt heat rise to my face.

Kiss me

I swallow. I could only hope that my face didn’t show a fraction of the panic running full tilt through my mind. I mean, of course we’d grown to like each other's company- it’s not like there were any other options out here. All that time together… we’d grown closer but- How was I supposed to respond to this? If anything the majority of our time spent together was spent annoying one another- sure it had been teasing… but certainly not that kind of teasing! I chew on my lip, a strange feeling of dread brewing in my chest- would I break his heart?

Though another question seemed to itch the at the back of my mind,

Did I have to?

My heart thrums loudly in my ears, each beat feeling all too much like gunfire. I reach my hand out towards him, and he hands me the candy heart, his tail swishing behind him in anticipation.

I grit my teeth, mind reeling over just what I was supposed to say.

He chitters, and my brow knits together as I recognize the noise. Not nerves... The broken half chirps had become a familiar sound- laughter. As I read the tiny red text, the weight vanishes from my shoulders, a feeling of genuine relief accompanying the all too familiar sting of irritation. Irritation for both Bram and Clyde.

YOU SUCK

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iam93percentstardust · 4 months

Note

Stevetony kissing for a dare!!! Hehe :3

DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARE!

This is the second part to the fic from yesterday (I’m doing all this on unfamiliar technology so I’m a little afraid to exit out of this screen to find the link)

Little Mix is playing through the speakers in Natasha’s dorm room. Steve wouldn’t have pinned Natasha, who normally likes big band jazz and old spy movies, to like that kind of pop music, but she seems to delight in surprising people, so who knows? Certainly not Steve. Bucky would be the person to ask, but he delights in his girlfriend surprising people just as much as she does, so that conversation is a nonstarter.

There’s a knock on the door, and Natasha darts over to get it. Tony slips inside, followed by his best friend, Rhodey, both of them sliding rainslick hoods off their heads.

”Sorry we’re late,” Tony pants, sounding like he just ran all the way across the city. “Warden was making extra rounds earlier.”

”You know, one day Mrs. Hill is gonna hear you calling her the warden and have you taken out back and shot,” Rhodey comments, passing his hoodie to Sam with a grateful nod.

Tony, on the other hand, seems too distracted by insulting the middle-aged chaperone of their dorm to notice that he’s still wearing his coat, so Steve gets up to help him take it off. And, no, Bucky, it isn’t just an excuse to get to touch the pretty omega. He’s being helpful. Bucky should try it some time. Tony smiles at him, sweet and lovely, as Steve slides his jacket off his shoulders, and Steve feels his heart skip a beat. After hearing Tony’s four hour rant on the inherent unfairness in how omegas are treated in this town, he no longer has any concern about associating with Tony—after all, nothing will change if they all just keep going along with the status quo—but he still hasn’t made a move to act on what he’s pretty sure is a mutual attraction. It just hasn’t felt like the right moment.

”My knight in shining armor,” Tony teases while Steve takes the jacket into the attached bathroom where Natasha has a space heater going. Rhodey clears his throat loudly, and Tony rolls his eyes. “Fine. I mean, thank you.”

No idea what that’s about.

“What are we playing tonight, boss lady?” Rhodey asks, dropping onto the floor next to Sam. Tony takes the empty seat on the free bed—left unclaimed when Natasha’s roommate decided college wasn’t for her after all—next to Steve. He curls up as close to Steve as he can get, feeling like a wall of fire against his side. Steve shifts, lifting his arm up for Tony to get even closer if he wants—which he does since he takes the invitation—and puts his arm back around his shoulders.

”Truth or dare,” Natasha declares.

Sam groans. “We’re not in middle school, Tasha.”

She scoffs, “We go home for the summer in the morning. This is my last opportunity to get blackmail material on you so I can make you come visit me. If I have to be left alone with Yelena all summer, I’m going to kill someone. Possibly Yelena.”

Considering how much Natasha talks about missing her sister, Steve doubts that that’s a real threat, but in the interest of peacekeeping, he says, “I like truth or dare.”

”That’s because you have bad taste,” Bucky says. Natasha glares at him, and he hastily revises his answer. “I mean—uh—you have great taste! Obviously.”

”Nice save,” Natasha says dryly.

Tony leans over and murmurs, “Someone’s sleeping in the spare bed tonight,” into Steve’s ear. Steve snickers, drawing Natasha’s glare on both of them. Tony holds up his hands in conciliation. “I would just like to point out that I like truth or dare.”

”Yeah, that’s because you have no shame,” Rhodey points out.

Tony shrugs. “Guilty.”

“You’re going to pick dare every time.”

“Still guilty.”

“And if you don’t get one that lets you run naked through the quad, you’re going to light something on fire. Don’t think I don’t remember that game last year.”

Tony considers it and then shrugs again. “Guilty of that too.”

“You lit something on fire?” Steve asks incredulously.

”I light lots of things on fire. I’m an engineer. Keep up, Steven.”

“Ooh first named,” Bucky taunts. Steve takes one of the pillows from the bed and throws it at him.

Somehow, in all of the hullabaloo, they forget to set down rules for the game, which is good because just like Tony enjoys doing all dares, Steve only wants to answer truth. And for reasons that he’s never figured out, it’s acceptable to pick dare every time but not truth. For the most part, no one really notices—except for Natasha, but she doesn’t miss a trick. Ever. And when Tony and Rhodey start commenting about heading home so they don’t get locked out of their dorm, she talks them into one more round and then turns to Steve with an evil look in her eyes.

”Truth or dare, Steve?” she asks.

“Truth,” he says, certain she’s going to call him out on it. But betrayal comes from somewhere else entirely.

“Hey, you can’t keep picking truth!” Bucky protests. “You’ve done that all night!”

”That wasn’t in the rules,” Steve argues.

”You have to do it at least once,” Natasha wheedles. “You’re the most boring person alive—”

”Hey!”

”I don’t have any blackmail material at all.”

”Okay, let’s not insult Steve’s character,” Tony cuts in, and Steve is about to thank him but then Tony turns to him with that sparkle in his eyes that spells trouble for everyone around. “Just one dare? Please? To tide us over until we get back from summer?”

He sighs. He can’t say no to those big eyes. “Alright. One dare.”

Natasha pumps her fist triumphantly and then, so quickly that she had to have been planning this one for a while, she says, “I dare you to kiss Tony.”

“What?” he squawks.

”You heard me,” she repeats. Definitely evil. “I dare you to kiss Tony.”

Tony chuckles nervously. “Alright, we don’t need to make Steve do something he doesn’t want to do.”

And that’s just—no. Something he doesn’t want to do? Where would Tony even get that idea from? Kissing him is pretty much the only thing he ever wants to do.

Without thinking about it, without letting himself worry about ruining their friendship or if Tony’s protest was really him saying he doesn’t want to kiss Steve or the consequences if they get caught, Steve kisses him. Hand cupping Tony’s cheek, beard soft against his palm, swallowing the soft gasp Tony makes. It’s a good kiss. Fuck, it’s a great kiss. Easily the best one Steve has ever had (not that he’s had that many).

He pulls back only because he has to breathe, not out of any real desire to stop. He’s dimly aware that their friends are applauding them in the background, but he’s too busy drowning in Tony’s dark eyes to care what they’re doing.

”Oh,” Tony breathes, and Steve feels the exact same way.

#stevetony #alle writes #alle answers #if you like please reblog

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princessasmosprincess · 10 months

Text

Charmed, I'm Sure

Chapter 29

Summary: No human has ever avoided Asmodeus's charm. Except for you.

Pairing: Asmodeus x GN Reader/MC

Genre: Drama, angst, a bit of fluff.

Warnings: None in this chapter.

***

Author's Note: This chapter was going to be much longer but I decided to split it so I could spend more time working on the second half and not leave you all hanging for so long. Perfectionism has been a struggle for me lately.

***

“...Well then, I suppose it's about that time,” said Diavolo when everyone at the table seemed to be finished with their meal (aside from Beel who had already begun grumbling that he wanted fourths of the angels’ cooking). “Alright then, here we go!”

Diavolo’s magic filled the room in a bright gold flash that nearly blinded you, and when it subsided the dinner table was gone and the ballroom was filled with hundreds of partygoers, with more filing in as musicians began to play from a gallery high above.

The brothers, along with Diavolo and Barbatos, had transformed into their demon forms, wings and tails proudly on display. You stared at them in awe, having only seen a few of their forms before. They were all stunning.

“Surprised?” said Solomon, coming to stand next to you, “Magic really does come in handy sometimes, huh?”

“We were the only ones here just a bit ago, but now look at all these people.” Luke surveyed the crowd looking both intimidated and amazed.

“They're all guests from across the Devildom, and there certainly are a lot of them.” said Simeon.

Diavolo’s voice easily carried through the full ballroom, “Well then, let the dance begin! Everyone enjoy yourselves!”

The musicians began a dreamy classical number and couples took to the floor.

“Yo, MC.” Mammon nudged your shoulder, “Um, like...you know... Uh, I mean, like...uh…”

You looked at him, patiently waiting as he stuttered.

“L-Like, you've gotta have weird tastes to ask a human like you to dance. I'm guessin' no one here's gonna do that, huh? Ahahahaha!”

You sighed, so this was how he was going to go about asking you to dance? Always with the insults, surely he was better than that.

Mammon continued, looking everywhere else except for your face, “So y'know, as long as you don't have a partner, I guess I could maybe go ahead and pair up with you for a lil bit.”

Then again, he did seem nervous. You decided you should give him a chance.

Just as you were about to answer in the affirmative, Lucifer took hold of your arm, “MC, come dance with me. Now.” And he ushered you all the way to the center of the dance floor without another word.

“You couldn't let Mammon have his turn? He asked me first.” you huffed.

“In general, there are all sorts of reasons why one might ask someone else to dance.” Lucifer ignored your comment and settled his arms around you in perfect form for the dance, “For example, they might be interested in them, they might want to touch them, or they might simply be doing it out of politeness.” He leaned in, “Or it could be because they want to have a private conversation.”

You pulled away, uncomfortable with his closeness. You made yourself small. Pride demanded humility, that was something you’d learned the last time you faced Lucifer, and for the sake of your safety you would give it to him without question.

Lucifer smirked, your reaction seemed to be his desired effect. “It seems like you’ve been getting a lot of assistance lately, from Barbatos, Luke, Solomon… And that’s not to mention the pacts you have with my brothers. You’re up to three, now?” He twirled you once, the movement flawless but devoid of passion.

“I-I’m just following Diavolo’s wishes.” You said as you returned to him. “He encouraged me to make pacts, remember?”

“Is that so? Then you’re a much more, ah, dedicated exchange student than I’ve given you credit for. If only that would show in your grades.”

“My attention has been split lately,” You raised an eyebrow. Why was he coming at you with this now? “Without the use of magic I don't have much in the way of protecting myself. You should know that as well as anyone.” Feeling bolder, you decided to let a single barb loose. It wasn't like he could really do anything to you in a room full of Devildom nobles and the Demon Prince.

“And yet,” Lucifer sneered. “You reek of magic. Asmo’s magic.”

You nearly tripped over your feet, but Lucifer's firm hold kept you upright, “Asmo’s magic?”

“Yes, I noticed it all throughout dinner. He’s cast some sort of protective spell over you.” He pushed you away to twirl you again, keeping contact with your hand until he dragged you back into position.

You were so confused. Why had Asmo done that when he seemed so unhappy with you? Sure he had lightened up a little at dinner, but you knew very well he could hold a grudge for a while. Besides that, what reason did he have for casting a protection spell on you now?

“And the charm on that bauble of yours has been updated as well, with Solomon’s magic. What is it you’re plotting with them?”

An accusation, but not one totally unfounded, “We’re not plotting anything.” You said, indignant. And it wasn’t exactly a lie, you’d never planned anything with Solomon. At least you hadn’t done so recently. “Solomon fixed my bracelet when we were in the labyrinth. It protected us down there.”

It hadn't helped with Henry but it had kept the spiders away. And the vines. They had seemed so full of life but none of them had touched you or the others, though you had a feeling they would have without your little charm of protection.

“Why do I have trouble believing that?” The flames of Hell blazed in his eyes, “Do you really think that little bracelet of yours will protect you from the likes of me?”

“This isn't about you, Lucifer.” There was no way he’d heard about the task Asmo had given you, was there? And even then, a stolen picture was hardly worth reacting like this.

You attempted to lean away again but Lucifer pulled you closer, his arm wrapped around your back as if embracing you, your body flush against his, “I respect my brothers' freedom to do as they wish. However, if I ever sense that you've become a threat to either Diavolo or us…” He spoke directly into your ear, “...then I will show you absolutely no mercy. Understood?” His grip on your hand pressing painfully into the bruises Asmo and Mammon had left yesterday.

You struggled to free yourself from him, wincing in pain as he pressed you closer. His hold on you only tightened. “I want to be good friends with all of you, Lucifer.”

“Well, that's not what I want."

***

“Poor Mammon,” Asmo laughed over the rim of his flute of sparkling gold demonus, “But the first born always gets what he wants. I am a bit surprised Lucifer was so determined to dance with them.”

“How so?” said Solomon. “MC does seem to be in high demand.” He inclined his head to the rest of Asmo’s brothers who all looked anxious to dance with MC. Levi was even reciting his opening line under his breath, pacing at the edge of the dance floor while repeatedly wiping his sweaty hands on his pants.

“Can’t imagine why…” Asmo muttered, taking a sip.

“Hm,” Solomon smirked, “And I take that to mean you’ve figured out your feelings towards them?”

“As a matter of fact, I have.”

“Well?”

Asmo laughed again, linking his arm around Solomon’s, “They’re nothing more than a toy to me.”

It would be fun stringing you along as if he’d actually make a pact with you. Asmo wasn't naive like Beel or touch starved like Levi or stupid like Mammon. He was clever as he was beautiful, even though he showed that side of himself rarely. He had no use for a pact with a magicless human, regardless of how Lord Diavolo encouraged it for the good of the exchange program or whatever misguided nonsense he thrust upon the Devildom. There would be no benefit for Asmo. His time was valuable.

“This whole time I’ve been making this situation bigger than it actually is. I let them get in my head, you see.” said Asmo, “I’ve been feeling so out of sorts lately, but I’ve realized all I need to do is get them out of my system.”

“I see,” said Solomon as he took a sip of his drink.

“You almost sound disappointed. Is it because they’re another human?” Asmo reached up to stroke Solomon’s cheek.

Soon he would be back to his normal carefree self, Asmo was sure of it.

“Honestly, you really shouldn't b–" Asmo suddenly yanked at Solomon’s arm, frantically dragging him down as if he was drowning, his eyes wide. "Solomon! Solomon, what is Lucifer doing to them?!”

Solomon looked out into the dancers, following Asmo’s gaze. There you were in the center of the dance floor, struggling against Lucifer’s superior strength. Most who saw you would probably just assume you were unpracticed in the dance and that Lucifer was dutifully leading you through it. But there was such fear in your eyes. Fear and pain.

Solomon removed his arm from Asmo’s grasp, the demon pale and panicking beside him.

A toy? That’s really all you were to him? Solomon suppressed a chuckle.

“I’ve got this.” And he made his way through the dancers.

***

Cross-posted on AO3

#obey me #omswd #obey me shall we date #asmo obey me #asmodeus obey me #asmo #asmodeus #charmed i'm sure #asmo x mc #asmo x reader #asmo x gn mc #asmo x gn reader #asmodeus x mc #asmodeus x reader #asmodeus x gn mc #asmodeus x gn reader #lucifer obey me #solomon obey me

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pixigels · 9 months

Text

the demons have taken over me. heres my thread of romerica thoughts and incoherent rambling

america is an insomniac while romano is quite the opposite. america always tells himself that hes gonna fix his sleep schedule but he never does bcs he just cant... he'll always find himself wide eyed at 5am like always.

romerica did NOT meet and end in the 1920s. like canon says industrial revolution + economic growth in america aka the gilded for a reason guysss. now i dont think they were dating since then but they did not MEET in the start of the 20s. not rlly a hc its just a fleeting thought.

i do think they dated in the 1920s but throughout the whole time they never called it dating (because they are idiots) they were just gay and existing like a situationship ???? but like they were certainly not just friends if you know what i mean.

they didnt get back into their situationship activities until the 50s

30s they broke apart and then 40s was a complicated time that deserves its own post bcs a bullet point would not do its complexity justice.

romano bullies america for his taste in coffee food and everything else.

speaking of coffee their dynamic is so coffee au

america and roma are sun sign compatible bcs they are cancer and pisces. kinda like the moon and the tides of the ocean if you want to get all artistic (i ignore hetalia bdays when it comes to astrology hcs unless its convenient to me)

i personally find it so funny how in the manga romano seems to mentions that he lived with america like a decent amount of times like thats so silly to me and i like to think he does that way more often kinda like an old man who repeats a story over and over again and it makes everyone sick LIKE DAMN WE GET IT (alfred does this too)

i also like to think that they like to shit talk people. like i feel like alfred is kinda blunt/cant read the room and so is lovi but like in different ways but they are blunt with each other so they shit talk people together bcs thats what true couples do <3

i probably have more hcs but i either forgot atm or think its already too much of a common hc for me to mention yk. i pinky promise to make more romerica content. If romerica has a million fans, then I am one of them. If romerica has ten fans, then I am one of them. If romerica has only one fan then that is me. If romerica has no fans, then that means I am no longer on earth. If the world is against romerica, then I am against the world.

what im saying is ill die for romerica and will make self indulgent content just bcs i like it sm

if theres any inconsistencies in hcs, in specific the historical ones,pls correct me im not a history major ive only had a special interest in history (prior to hetalia bcs im a LOSER) for years so i end up bringing it up alot everywhere even in non hetalia related conversations O<-<

#im so normal about them i swear #romerica #hws romano #hws america #hetalia #hetalia romano #hetalia america #hetalia south italy

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trashcatsnark · 6 months

Text

Wip Christmas Eve

Hewwo~ I was tagged by @nightcxty to share some WIPs a while back, I have finally done some writing I feel good about sharing so- have words~ TW: mentions of gore and blood

First WIP: Can You Feel The Sun- Chapter 85

“There is no Samurai without Silverhand,” Nancy says, V feeling a cocktail of melancholy and pride stirring in Johnny’s chest. His eyes staring at the back of Nancy’s seat. V’s hand finding his leg where his feet are propped up, squeezing the muscles there to provide a modicum of comfort or something. “Well, on the technical level- I’d be filling in for him.” “Hahaha... You?” “Kerry vetted me himself,” V assures her, “Know I don’t exactly seem to the type, but different person on stage- trust me. And sides, way I see it, concert would be Silverhand’s honor.” “That so, what's got into Kerry all of a sudden? Thought he got over this ages ago…” Nancy muses more to herself than to V. “I mean, maybe just the timing,” V suggests, shrugging her shoulders and trying to feign ignorance as she delicate tries to steer the conversation,”I mean, fuck- Silverhand’s birthday is right around the corner. Another life, another timeline- be turning 89 in just a few days.” “Swear to fuck, only number that sticks in your head is how old I’d be..” “Doubt it,” Nancy whispers, but there’s almost a breath of a laugh around her words, “Don’t think there’s anything that could have stopped that gonk from putting himself in an early grave. Hate to say it, but people like Johnny die young and they die violently, way of the world.” “What do you mean, people like Johnny?” “Should know, you’re one of ‘em after all,” Nancy mutters, eyes lingering where V bleeds against the leather. V swallows a lump in her throat that tastes like blood. She wonders how she must look to someone like Nancy. Dex’s old question, to burn out young and die without seeing thirty or to have a long quiet life. She said back then, all that time ago, that the world doesn’t give a choice. That she wasn’t meant to choose, that sometimes those on a long quiet like find their plans cut short by a single stray bullet. But she can’t deny that people like her, like Johnny, like Jackie, like Bug- they rarely get to see their hair turn gray. Nancy sits here, deep into her eighties with gray curls and soft wrinkles lining her face. She’s got her quiet life, she’s lived long enough to see her later years, made enough of a name and enough money to stay looking relatively young while doing it. And here’s V, freshly twenty-one, riddled with bullet holes and face a mess of bruises and blood. She’s lived on the brink of death since she was born, even if not for the relic- she’d probably find her end young. At the hands of a gang member, at the hands of her father, her sister, or any of the dangers that lurk in this city. She wonders how Nancy feels- knowing she’ll likely outlive V. V can’t imagine, can’t imagine seeing someone so much younger- a child to her and just knowing their story will end before her own. The merc sucks in a lungful of smoke, lets it settle into her blood before blowing it out the window; “Point is, Ker wants to put on a show.” She tries not to linger too much on wondering how long Johnny will live this time, beneath her skin once she’s gone. He’s not a man meant for a long life, it crushes her heart but she knows Nancy is right. Even with his edges softening, he’s not the kind of man to seek peace and quiet. But that doesn’t mean he’s any less deserving of more time, of a longer story- once more chapter, one more paragraph, one more line, one more word- he deserves that much.

Second WIP- been writing a bit from my durge's POV, early game stuff~

No name. No home. No connections. No idea where he is. But he knows he’s fucked. So, there’s certainly that- he heaves a heavy sigh, scratching black claws over his short dark horns. He’ll have to figure out how to pluck the tadpole from his head and make sense of the abyss sitting inside of it, but perhaps the first step should be just figuring out where the hells he is. His boots crush through sand, the leather thuds softly against a limp corpse. One of many that decorate the beach, crimson streaked rags cover the body. Hair matted to their greying forehead with a mix of blood and sand. The heavy gash across their skull giving away the cause of their death, the smell of drying blood burns at his nose stirring something inside of him. An ache settling within his bones, fingers twitching as thoughts of sinking his fingers through the soft meat flitter in his mind. How easily he could crack the already fractured skull, feel it break within his fingers, play in the viscera he finds inside. Only a pity they're already dead, that he'd never get to hear them scream. What the fuck,no, no- he shakes his head like a dog throwing off water. That's, no, no, he blinks through a haze he can't name. Nudges the body again with his boot, seeing where half their body is turning purple where the blood settles. And as his heel hovers above the corpses head, impulse strikes it down, hard and swift as he crushes their skull- a smile pulls at his lips when he hears the crack of the bones and the squelch of viscera beneath his weight. Then he jolts back, as if struck, smearing blood through sand- why did he do that? Is that the tadpole, making him violent- monstrous? Despite the gnawing gap where a memory should lay, he can't shake the idea this isn't the first corpse he's stood over. Not the first time he’s heard the crunch of bone, watched crimson seep into the edges of his boots, nor smiled at the sight. He shakes his head, pushes through again and leaves the crushed corpse behind as he begins his march across the sand.

#cyberpunk 2077 #baldurs gate 3 #cp2077 #bg3 #aidan becker #johnny silverhand #fem v #durge #dark urge #silas durge #i don't have a proper tag for my durge oc yet lmao

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ldobmm · 1 year

Text

I really hate to bring things like this to the TL again. But much like before, I am blocked by the account and cannot directly respond on there so, ill do my best without proper ss from the post.

Some of you by now may have seen a “call out” post by the CC creator Tomiochan. Now, while I do not condone death threats of any sort, none were ever sent to him directly, and instead a friend of mine used a joke in poor taste in a server that none of us are in any longer. As far as myself in those ss, I absolutely did call Tomio an “asshat”. Now whether it was my business or not, I felt as if the way he talked to his boyfriend when he made a mistake in the server to be super rude. I felt bad. Thus the reason I called him an asshat 😭 and I stand by that and anything else I said 100% because I can own up to my words.

Now before you go throwing stones at me, I said that in the comfort of a GC with people I felt were safe! Two of them I am no longer friends with which explains the screenshots now being brought to light. Was it wrong? Sure. Words are harsh. People certainly talk bad about me too in their own spaces. Nothing I can do about that. I was still respectful on spaces I shared with Tomio. Yes, I thought he was an asshole. No that doesn’t mean I thought he was a terrible person. I had an opinion based on interactions I saw. It really was that simple. We have our ways. I know I do too and I can certainly be accountable.

As far as some of the stuff he said about pulling the race card? Well ill let the ss from the conversation speak for themselves because I pulled no race cards and was left baffled at the attempts to twist what I was saying 😭 For reference I am vi_ncu in these and DABI (discord handle). No I am not Kiya. Those ss are not of me. I don’t know why he was adamant about that being me.

Im getting extremely tired of non black POC and white people in this community making me out to be this extreme aggressor who manipulates people, but then hitting 0 points when attempting to call me out. All because of someone im friends with who happens to be younger than me. The emphasis on our ages is also extremely odd as well. They are grown, as am I. The anti black undertones I have been subjected to time and time again are becoming exhausting and quite frankly, annoying. I will be accountable and admit when I am wrong. But I promise me having an opinion about someone, with my friends, is not as harmful as this is being made out to be. And I apologized if my words hurt. Thats all I could offer. Anyway, all of you have critical thinking skills so I implore you to use those while reading all of this. Im completely fine with being wrong, but I won’t be slandered without full context and made to be some monster. Heres the full convo of when I was confronted. (Sorry some of these ss are so bad I was on my phone 😭)

Having to attach these ss a bit all over the place because you can only post 10 so im super sorry about that! Check quotes for the rest of the ss.

#the pepe emote was necessary too like im very sorry but all of this was so unserious #and the constant is it because in asian?#like 😐#im just..#idk man #i had to insert the ss super weird because tumblr not has a 10 photo limit ��#so some are attached in the quote!

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valkyrie-night-103 · 1 year

Note

I love the WIP bits you‘ve posted so far! If you’re still doing the wip ask game I‘d be interested in hearing about Too Much Too Soon ✨👀

Hi! Thank you for participating, it means a lot! I intended to get this done a couple hours ago but I kept getting distracted, so I made it a bit longer!

To everyone else, if I haven’t gotten around to your ask, I am working on it!

Too Much Too Soon

After getting signed to New Japan and joining the Bullet Club as The Cleaner, Kenny is riding high. He’s winning matches and chasing titles. He’s a bigger star than he’s ever been, no longer the clueless gaijin following his tag partner like a lost puppy and riding his coattails. He’s sold his soul and succumbed to the machine, and even though he hates the person he’s become, he’s right where he needs to be to make history.

He heads into biggest match of his career with his new best friends at ringside. He won’t lose. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he does.

They’re approaching the time limit, and Kenny knows he has to end this now. He leaps into a perfect moonsault to the outside. He can feel every single person in the thousands that make up the crowd are all holding their breath. For just a moment, he’s unburdened by the weight of his own expectations. He feels free, elated, weightless and hopeful. He’s not felt like this in so long. He feels golden.

His opponent moves at the last second, and the dread pulls Kenny back to earth. Like an action movie smash cut, there was a burst of pain, followed by darkness, then nothing at all.

The nothing stretches on for an amount of time. Long or short, he’s not sure. It feels long, but maybe it’s many thoughts compressed into a short space. Maybe it’s supposed to be his life flashing before his eyes, maybe he’s already dead. He drifts between pain and darkness and back into nothing.

He gets the news not even 24 hours after he was rushed to the hospital.

Matt and Nick had gone in search of decent cell service so they could keep the company clued in on how he was doing, and maybe to take a shower and grab some coffee while they were at it.

Truthfully, he’d known what was up from the moment the doctor started speaking. When a medical professional opens a conversation with the fact that he’s lucky to be alive and without any symptoms of paralysis, it’s probably not going to be good news. That kind of light at the end of the tunnel almost always turns out to be an oncoming train, a reminder of hope before it’s stolen.

Either way, you’re no less of a pancake when the reality flattens you.

He still asks anyway, and the way she pauses and looks at his chart before looking back up at him tells him everything he needs to know.

It’s a good thing, too, because doesn’t process much of what she’s saying. He feels like he’s underwater, drowning in static noise. Words and phrases make their way through, one by one.

Retirement. Immediate. Support group. Therapy. Stability. Imaging. Mobility. Surgery. Recovery. Supportive adaptations. Referrals.

He’d sacrificed everything, and for what? His body, his humanity, his home. His heart and his soul and everything in between. He gave it all up for the notion of a legacy, and it was for nothing. He never even got a real chance, and now he never would.

Somewhere, he would bet that Kota is laughing. It’s certainly poetic irony, Kenny will give him that.

The doctor steps away for a while. To give him time to process, as she so kindly puts it. His mouth tastes like metal, and his heart feels equally heavy. He feels so hollow, like he’s 99% empty space, his thoughts are electrons and his heart is the nucleus and he’s in pieces, spread like ashes in all his favourite places.

He hears heated conversation in the hall. The voice is strikingly familiar. It takes him way too long to place where he recognises the voice from.

Kenny had never found the strength to remove Kota from his list of emergency contacts. It was something that had really mattered to them, almost like marriage, it was a commitment to care and protect. Though, after all that had happened, he’d never expected Kota to actually honour it.

And as if the universe wishes to answer his questions in a timely fashion, Kota Ibushi bursts through the doors.

#too much too soon #it’s a working title but we’ll roll with it for now #aew #all elite wrestling #wrestling #kenny omega #kenny omega my beloved #fic ask game #golden lovers #aew ask game #kota ibushi #matt jackson #nick jackson

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maybeimamuppet · 2 years

Text

picking teams- chapter 8: cady

helloooo folks happy wednesday!! welcome to the homecoming chapter ooooh. also only next chapter you'll actually get some cadnis finally lol whoops

tw for

disordered eating thoughts

slut shaming

homophobia

implied SA

and as always if i've missed anything please let me know so i can add it :)

enjoy!

—————

Cady finds herself really enjoying the tutoring sessions she has with Janis.

Janis is polite. She always says hello and chats briefly with Cady's parents on the rare occasions they're there at the same time. She never leaves messes when Cady offers her something to eat while they work, and she's never pushy during the actual tutoring.

Cady's also learned that she's much smarter than people give her credit for. Janis' questions may be about things Cady finds simple, but after a more in depth explanation and a few extra practice problems, she picks things up in no time. Not to mention how much she's helped Cady with her English and history homework assignments.

But, the best part is, Janis is so... sweet. She always seems happy just to make conversation with Cady. She's always interested to hear Cady's Kenya stories. Nobody else in America has been. Except for Karen, but Cady knows she doesn't really understand what she's talking about. Janis tells Cady her own stories, and Cady likes to think they're becoming friends.

She certainly hopes they are, anyway.

Janis looks at her in confusion as she stands up towards the end of their session one Saturday, rooting through her closet for something to wear. "You going somewhere?"

"Hm?" Cady hums, turning around with a short skirt and a tank top in her hands. She grabs a denim jacket, too. It's chilly today, but Regina threatened to burn all her jeans if she wore them in public one more time. "Oh, I'm going homecoming shopping with Regina and Gretchen and Karen after this. It always takes me forever to figure out what to wear."

"Oh," Janis says. "Sounds fun."

"Yeah, shopping with them usually is," Cady says. "I mean, I always get totally overwhelmed and all the fabrics feel awful, but I like the process."

"That's about how it goes," Janis chuckles. "I always hated polyester too."

"It's the worst! It's never comfy," Cady pouts. "But it's all they say I look good in."

"You look good in anything."

"Thanks," Cady says with a smile. Janis won't look at her, for whatever reason. Cady shrugs and heads to the restroom to get changed. "I'll be right back."

"Okay," Janis says, her voice a bit squeaky. She must be having a weird day.

Cady does have to admit that her friends have good taste. As uncomfortable as the clothes are when she puts them on, she does look pretty in them. Regina's taught her that shorter skirts will make her legs look longer and more proportional to the rest of her body. Tighter shirts make her look thinner, and layers are an extra bonus. She tucks the shirt in to highlight her waistline, and sucks her tummy in the slightest bit to zip up her skirt.

Maybe one of these days she'll recognize herself when she looks in the mirror wearing these clothes.

Cady heads back into her bedroom after giving her curls a quick fluff. "How's it going?"

"Fine," Janis murmurs. Cady turns around to look at her and finds Janis staring quite interestedly at her math work.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Janis says, barely glancing at Cady. "You look nice."

"Thanks," Cady grins. She swipes on some quick makeup while Janis finishes working, then plops down next to her to look over it. "All right again! I think we can move on next time."

"Thank god," Janis sighs, going totally boneless in her beanbag. "If I had to do one more of those I think my brain would melt out my ears."

"I mean, you'll probably have to at some point," Cady says. "You do have that test next week."

"Shh. Let me have this moment of peace."

"Okay," Cady giggles. She relaxes on her own beanbag, looking up at her ceiling like Janis is doing next to her. Maybe she should get fairy lights like Regina has on hers.

"Do you have a date?" Janis murmurs after a couple minutes.

"Huh?"

"For homecoming. Are you going with anyone?"

"Oh," Cady says. "Nobody's asked me. I think we're just going, like, as a friend group."

"That's cool," Janis nods. "It's usually more fun that way."

"Do you have a date?" Cady asks, looking over at her.

"Yeah," Janis chuckles. Cady feels her heart squeeze a bit, but she can't figure out why. "Damian and I always go together. Every dance since ninth grade. He always drags me with him. I guess he just wants me to, like... get the 'proper high school experience' or whatever."

"You don't want to go?" Cady asks sadly.

"It's not the same for me as it is for you," Janis says quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"You're popular. You have a friend group," Janis says. "Everyone at school knows who you are, for a good reason. Everyone at school knows who I am for a bad reason. It's not that I don't want to go, or that he's not a good date, but... I only go with Damian because he's the only option I have. I don't have any other friends I can go with, or... an actual date I could ask."

"Oh," Cady says. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Janis says. "Damian always makes it fun. I'll have a good time. Don't worry."

"You could come with us, I'm sure," Cady offers. Janis laughs outright at that. Why is that funny?

"Really not an option," she chuckles sardonically. "But thanks for the offer."

"Why not?"

"I'm sure Regina's already given you some version of what happened," Janis says softly. "Just... not possible."

Cady gets the sense that she shouldn't push here, so she just nods sadly. Janis gives her a sad smile in return and gently takes her hand.

"I promise I'll have fun even if I can't go with you. For your sake, I'll have fun," she promises. Cady giggles and squeezes her hand.

"I'm holding you to that, Sarkisian."

"I always keep my promises."

"Good," Cady grins. "Can I ask you something?"

"Maybe," Janis chuckles.

"Is Damian, um..." Cady says, pausing awkwardly. "Gay?"

Janis laughs again, much harder this time. "Yes. He's almost too gay to function. You really couldn't tell?"

"I mean, kinda, but I don't like assuming things," Cady says in embarrassment. She decides to leave out the part about her friends telling her a good bit of Janis and Damian's life story within a few days of meeting them. Something tells her that wouldn't go over very well. Janis nods.

"That's good, though. And for future reference, Damian is very very gay. But if you want to know about anyone else you should probably ask them directly. It's... the kind of story someone should only tell for themselves, you know?"

Cady nods eagerly. "Got it."

"Tits. I'll see you Monday," Janis grins, zipping her backpack shut and standing up.

Cady's sad she has to go. She wonders what kinds of things Janis would pick to wear to homecoming. Wonders what going shopping with her would be like.

"Bye. Have a good weekend," Cady says before she can beg her to stay. Janis waves and is out Cady's bedroom door. Cady waves back and heads over to the mirror to make sure her makeup is perfect. Regina said that if even a single eyelash is out of place it ruins the image of their whole group.

With another coat of mascara she thinks she looks perfect enough for even Regina's standards. She rushes out, trying not to break an ankle on her ridiculously high heels, when she hears Regina laying on the horn outside. She's lucky her neighbors haven't filed a complaint yet.

"Hi," she says breathlessly as she takes her usual spot in the backseat.

"Hey," all three of her friends say at the same time.

"Are you excited, Cady?" Gretchen asks. Cady nods.

"Yeah! I never really wore dresses until I met you guys, I'm excited to get something more... snazzy. I've never had much reason to dress up super fancy before," she says.

"It's so fun, you'll love homecoming shopping," Karen says.

"Shopping with you guys is always fun," Cady grins. "I hope I find something."

"Oh, you will," Regina chuckles, almost ominously.

—-

Cady was expecting to go to the mall again, but apparently dress shopping at the mall is a total fashion faux pas. She looks around at the fancy dress store she's found herself in. They have everything from homecoming dresses to wedding dresses, and most of them seem very far out of her budget.

Her friends head over to the racks of homecoming outfits in their sizes and start grabbing just about everything they can see. Cady is confused by the tulle tornadoes rushing around her, but she shrugs and follows suit as best she can.

Once they all have a decent stack of potential dresses, they make their way over towards the changing rooms. One of the stacks of dresses asks, "Who goes first?"

"Me," another responds, so the other three all waddle over to the benches and plop down. Cady looks to either side now that the dresses aren't covering their faces and sees Karen is the one missing.

They all wait until the curtain opens and Karen comes back out, clad in a bright pink two piece dress. The top has a sort of criss-cross hem, and the skirt falls just above her knee.

She does a twirl so her friends can see the dress in all of its glory. They all hem and haw over it, showering her in rightfully deserved compliments.

The process is repeated for about six more dresses, until Karen reaches the last one she grabbed.

"Which one?" Karen asks, still wearing the last one.

"I think the first one, honestly," Gretchen says. "That one really suited you."

"Not this one. Makes you look like a cheap slut," Regina says like that's a completely normal thing to say. "Definitely go for the first one."

Karen nods sadly and goes back into the changing room. She returns in the original bubblegum pink dress just to make super sure this is the one she should choose. Everyone eagerly confirms it, so she changes back into her regular clothes and switches places with Gretchen.

Cady blinks through dress after dress after dress Gretchen tries on. She compliments every one, because Gretchen does genuinely look great in all of them.

She's more indecisive than Karen was. Cady thinks she will be too. So many choices. How are you meant to know which one is correct?

Each of them had a favorite dress that Gretchen tried on, so she goes back to try those three on again. When she has the last one on, she whines an, "I just don't know!"

"We could all wear pink dresses," Karen offers. "Crown emoji. Then we're, like, matching, but not matching enough to be totally cringe, teeth emoji."

Was that English? Cady asks herself desperately as Regina and Gretchen mull that over. Cady decides to pipe up with a, "The pink one did really suit you, Gretchen."

"Really?" Gretchen asks. "It didn't make my stomach too noticeable?"

That's an issue? Cady wonders. "I didn't think so."

Gretchen shoots her a thankful smile and goes to try that one yet again. Her friends all nod when she pulls the curtain open and steps out to reveal the tight watermelon pink dress. It has long tulle sleeves, which seems to make Gretchen a bit more comfortable in it as well.

"You look really pretty, Gretchen," Regina says. Cady and Karen nod in agreement. Gretchen sighs with a smile, the relief visible on her face as her turn is up. "My turn, bitches."

Cady finds herself bracing as Regina takes her pile of dresses, wondering what circle of hell she's in for now. Regina is always the most demanding when they go shopping. She almost never picks her clothes herself. She leaves that for her lackeys, demanding a certain fashion and quality, and compliments on top of everything.

Cady's definitely glad she made an exception today. Regina picked all her own dresses to try, so they just get to experience the hurricane of lace and satin they're about to be forced into.

Hurricane is an understatement. Regina looks fantastic in everything, because of course she does. They quickly run out of compliments to shower her in. Things turn to, "Ooh!" or "Wow!" rather quickly.

Cady feels like she's woken up from some kind of homecoming coma by the time Regina has tried on the last dress. She shakes her head to clear it when Regina sighs, "So which one?"

"Uh... that one looks great," Cady says.

"Yeah, your waist looks, like, so tiny!" Gretchen says eagerly. Karen just nods along like a little bobblehead.

"Really?" Regina asks haughtily, whipping her blonde hair around to find a mirror. She puts her hands on her hips and does various poses in her fuchsia bodycon dress.

"The, um... color really brings out your eyes," Cady agrees, trying to sound like she knows what she's talking about. Gretchen and Karen both nod again. "And your... hair."

Regina looks at the mirror with a thoughtful pout on her face. "Eh, as long as guys are staring at me."

Oh, definitely, Cady thinks to herself. It's oddly reminiscent of the time she watched a snake eat a cow. The snake has more sequins than the one in Kenya did, though. Wait, is that rude?

"Your turn, Cades," Regina says with a wink. She heads to change back into her (arguably fancier) normal clothes, so Cady gathers her mound of dresses.

"I don't have many pink ones," Cady says anxiously. Gretchen and Karen both take the ones that aren't at least pink-adjacent and give her the ones they have, since they're all close enough to the same size to get away with it. Cady is significantly shorter than the rest of them, but she thinks she'll be able to pull it off with a bit of tailoring if she needs to.

The first dress she tries is awful. The material is glittery, and it has long sleeves. So itchy. It's so tight Cady can't even reach far enough behind her to zip it up all the way. She settles for zipping it as much as she can and just holding the neckline at the top for the same effect.

"It's nice!" her friends say when she kicks the curtain open enough to wiggle through and show them.

"It's really uncomfortable," Cady says, wiggling in a ditch attempt to get the itchy fabric off her skin.

"Pick a different one, then. Can't have you squirming like you're about to piss yourself the whole night," Regina sighs, waving her back into the changing room.

Cady can't quite hide how relieved she is as she turns around and practically rips the dress off her body. She stands there in her underwear for a split second to recover from the awful fabric before she grabs the next dress.

The next few go about the same way, made of too-tight uncomfortable materials that Cady can hardly bear having on her body. Pink is also a tricky color for her to wear with her hair and complexion, so some of the shades simply don't suit her. All this makes for an... interesting homecoming dress shopping experience, to say the very least.

She's down to the last four or so and getting more and more worried. What if she can't find anything? What will Regina do to her?

The next one she tries on is a tight strappy contraption and turns out to be so complicated that Cady gets tangled in the wrong parts of it for a solid three minutes. She takes it off without even showing her friends and places it firmly in the no pile.

But the next one has promise.

She can get into it herself, which is a plus. She can even do the zipper up all the way. It's not saying much, since there's not much zipper in the first place, but it definitely helps.

"This one, I don't even need to see the rest," Regina says when Cady pulls the curtain open to show it off.

"Really?" Cady grins. All three of them nod eagerly and practically shove her over to the mirror so she can see for herself. Cady looks at herself, spinning from side to side to observe the dress from all angles. She does look beautiful.

It's a baby pink, one that actually brings out the red of her hair in a nice way, with small gold sequins scattered around. The bodice is tight and dips into her cleavage in a way she's not the most comfortable with, but she decides she's into it. Her back is almost totally bare, so she'll have to figure something out in terms of a bra that won't show, but that's manageable. The skirt flares out and falls to just above her knee. She shakes her hips the slightest bit, and the swish factor is excellent.

"I like it," Cady nods. "Are we done?"

"No, it's time for shoes!" Gretchen squeals.

Ah, hell.

—————

Aaron turns to look at her when she takes her seat behind him on Monday. "Hey."

"Hey," Cady grins. "How was your weekend?"

"Not bad, not bad. My dad made me spend most of it at a football workshop thing, but it was less tedious than most of them are," Aaron replies. "How about you?"

"Oh, mine was pretty good too. I didn't really do much," Cady says, trying to find an appropriate amount of time to stare into his eyes. So shiny.

"Uneventful weekends are always the best," Aaron says. Cady giggles and nods.

"Definitely."

Aaron chuckles as well. Cady can't help but smile at the sound. "So are you going to homecoming?"

"Yeah, Regina and Gretchen and Karen and I are all going together. Just, like, as friends," Cady says. "Are you?" Please say no, please say no.

"Yeah," Aaron nods, flipping his swoopy hair out of his eyes. Cady tries not to swoon. "Couple buddies of mine couldn't land any dates, so we're just going as a group too."

"That's cool," Cady says, squealing internally. He doesn't have a date. "I hope I see you."

"I'll save you a dance if you save one for me," Aaron says with a wink. Cady flushes bright pink and nods eagerly.

"I will."

"Cool," Aaron grins. Cady tries to stop blushing enough to grin back.

"Cool," she squeaks.

—————

Janis and Cady agree to push their weekly tutoring session back a week. They've decided to spend twice as long the next Saturday working to make up for it.

Which means Cady has all day on Saturday to get ready for the dance.

The dance starts at eight, but Cady's been instructed to be at Regina's house by eleven in the morning at the absolute latest. Apparently getting hot is an all day affair.

Cady's knocking on the door at 10:45 just to be safe. Mrs. George pulls it open and practically drags Cady along with it. Cady stumbles into the house and gives Mrs. George her usual hug. "I like your tracksuit today, Mrs. Sabrina."

"You do? Oh, thank you, honey! You're just the sweetest thing," Mrs. George replies. Cady's heart breaks the slightest bit at her eager response to a pretty basic compliment. "Well, I won't keep you too long. Regina's in her room getting everything set up for you guys."

"Thanks," Cady says, lugging her garment bag up the stairs and knocking on Regina's door.

"What?!" a voice yells from inside. "Kylie, I swear to god!"

"It's Cady!" Cady calls back.

"Oh," the voice says, quieter. The door opens in front of her, revealing a clearly tense Regina. "You don't have to knock, you know."

"Sorry. I didn't want to, like, barge in or anything. I didn't know if you were getting dressed or something," Cady says sheepishly.

"Not like it matters. Not like you're some kind of lesbo," Regina shrugs. "Anyway, are you hungry? You should eat now so you won't later and look all bloated in your dress."

"Oh, um... I guess I could go for some breakfast," Cady says, trying to seem casual about it. She actually hasn't eaten yet, so she's starving. But seeming too interested in eating isn't a good look. "If it's not too much trouble."

"Yeah, whatever," Regina says. Cady winces as she suddenly shrieks at the top of her lungs. "Mommy!"

Mrs. George is at the door in record time, slamming it open and stumbling into the room. "What's the matter? Ear piercing incident? Herpes?"

What kind of family is this? Cady thinks desperately. Regina turns and looks at her mother with that sickly sweet grin Cady has gotten very used to being on the receiving end of.

"Is there any breakfast left? Cady needs some," Regina coos. Her voice is almost unnaturally high, like she's talking to a young baby and not... her own mother.

"Oh, of course! Let me whip something up really quick, I'll be right back!"

"Thank you!" Cady calls as she goes running from the room at the same speed. "So... why do we have to be here so early?"

"Because we need time to wash and style your hair, do all the skincare we need, do makeup, and last minute touch ups and hemming to our dresses, duh," Regina says.

"Oh. I didn't think it was that involved," Cady says anxiously.

"It takes work to look this good, Cady," Regina says. "If we aren't the hottest bitches at the dance, do you have any idea what would happen?"

We wouldn't be the hottest bitches at the dance, Cady thinks immediately. Out loud, she just says, "Oh."

"Once Gretch and K get here we can get started," Regina sighs, already primping in the mirror. She already has makeup on, even though her bed hasn't even been made yet. Cady wonders if anyone has ever actually seen her without makeup. "Lazy bitches."

"I'm sure they'll be here soon," Cady replies, almost defensively.

"They'd better be," Regina huffs. "Where is my mom-"

"I can wait!" Cady interrupts as she sees Regina prepare to shout again. "It's totally fine. I, uh... have a quick metabolism. I shouldn't look too bloated in the dress."

"I have a spare corset if you need one," Regina says.

"We'll see," Cady replies.

—-

Gretchen and Karen arrive about fifteen minutes later, rapidly trailed into the room by Mrs. George returning with Cady's plate. French toast and some mixed fruit.

"Thank you, Mrs. George," Cady says.

"Oh, of course, honey! If you girls need anything you just let me know, okay?"

"Okay, Mommy, out!" Regina says desperately. Mrs. George's face falls the slightest bit before she nods and backs out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Cady eats her breakfast while Regina starts washing Gretchen and Karen's hair in her shower. Karen comes out first, a shower cap over her hair and some green goop on her face. Gretchen follows after another few minutes, just as Cady is swallowing her last strawberry.

"So have you seen any guys you think are cute, Cady?" is how Gretchen chooses to open a conversation.

"What? Uh..." Cady stutters. "There's this guy in my calculus class, he's really cute. Aaron Samuels?"

Gretchen makes some sort of squawking noise oddly reminiscent of some of the birds Cady got acquainted with in Kenya. "What?! No!"

"What do you mean?"

"Aaron is Regina's ex-boyfriend!" Gretchen says in shock. No. No, no, no! "He just broke up with her this summer."

"I thought she dumped him for Shane Oman," Karen pipes up absentmindedly. Cady feels her core go cold just at the mention of his name. Great taste, there, Regina.

"Irregardless," Gretchen huffs. "Exes are off limits to friends. That's just, like, the rules of feminism!"

"Um... okay," Cady says in confusion. No more talking about Aaron in public, got it.

"Oh, but don't worry. I'll never tell Regina what you said," Gretchen says. "I'm great at keeping secrets. Like, Karen and I are dating and we haven't told anyone!"

"Gretchen!" Karen yelps. Cady's eyes go wide as Gretchen claps her hands over her mouth.

"Hey, it's okay," Cady soothes as Gretchen's eyes well with tears. "I won't tell anyone, I promise. Secret for a secret. I'm happy for you guys."

"Really?" Gretchen asks, her voice wobbling.

"Yeah, of course. I wouldn't do anything like that," Cady promises. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Thank you," Karen murmurs as she pulls Gretchen into a hug to comfort her, carefully, so the stuff on their faces doesn't smear.

"Cady! Come on, your turn!" Regina yells from the bathroom. Cady hops up and runs in, leaving Gretchen and Karen to have a moment to themselves. "Bend over."

"Huh?"

"Did I stutter? Bend over. We gotta wash your hair," Regina huffs.

"Oh," Cady says. She takes her hair out of the ponytail she had it in and shakes out her curls before she bends over Regina's very nice bathtub. Regina sets the water on and makes sure it's warm, checking it with her hand before she turns it on Cady and starts hosing her down. Cady flinches as the water hits her scalp and starts running down her auburn hair. "Ack."

"Sorry," Regina says, not sounding sorry in the slightest. "Your hair is really soft."

"Thanks," Cady says. "It smells nice in here."

"My shampoo," Regina replies. That explains it.

Regina massages some into Cady's roots and leaves it for a few minutes before rinsing it out, once again with absolutely no warning. She follows it with something in a tub Cady can't read from this angle, raking it through the ends and harshly ripping apart a few tangles. Cady winces and tries not to say anything at the tearing sound of her hair or the harsh pulling at her scalp. Beauty is pain.

Regina is quick if she's anything. Cady can't have been in for more than two minutes before Regina is twisting her hair around itself, clipping it to the top of her head, and covering the lot in a shower cap. "Hair mask. Holds in the moisture."

"Cool," Cady says. Regina snorts.

"Sure. Alright, over here," she says, beckoning her to the sink. Cady looks in the very well-lit mirror and carefully adjusts the shower cap on her head. "Avocado or melon?"

"Hm? Um... melon, I guess," Cady says, thinking she's talking about a snack. She jumps as Regina approaches her face with some pink goop on a silicone brush.

"What? It's just a face mask, it's not gonna bite you," Regina huffs.

"Oh," Cady says. "Sorry, I've just never done one before."

"Oh yeah," Regina says. "It'll make your skin softer. Makeup will go on smoother, blah blah blah. It's an important step. Now don't talk."

Cady listens, shutting her mouth firmly and allowing Regina to brush it over her face. She shuts her eyes when prompted and feels Regina brush more onto her forehead.

"Okay, you're set. Tell Karen to come do me," Regina says, rinsing the brush off under the tap and screwing the lid back on the face mask.

"Okay," Cady nods. She heads back out to the bedroom. Gretchen and Karen practically leap apart and put a sensible amount of distance between them. "Sorry, just me. Oh, and Regina wants you to help with her hair and stuff, Karen."

Gretchen looked like she was about to stand when Cady mentioned Regina wanting someone, and her face falls when she says Karen's name. Karen just shrugs and heads into the bathroom, so Cady takes her spot sitting on Regina's bed.

"Did Regina seem mad at me?" Gretchen asks as soon as Cady hits the mattress. "I'm always the one who does her hair."

"I don't think so. She's probably just stressed about today," Cady says, trying to comfort her. "I mean, you haven't done anything to upset her. I don't see why she'd be mad at you."

"It's always something I miss," Gretchen says anxiously. "I'll just buy her something nice."

"I really don't think you have to. And you shouldn't have to, she's your friend," Cady says sadly. "Just try not to worry about it, tonight should be fun."

"Okay," Gretchen says, her voice a mere squeak. "Yeah, okay."

Cady gently squeezes her shoulder. "I got your back either way. I'll talk to her if she is mad, you don't have to worry."

"Thanks, Cady," Gretchen says with a smile.

"Of course."

They both jump when Regina slams the bathroom door open and comes strutting out to the bedroom. Karen follows rapidly, returning to her perch on the bed.

They all jump yet again when Regina's mother suddenly slams the other door open, rushing in with a pink book in one hand and a cocktail in the other. It's eleven thirty in the morning.

"Regina, baby, before I forget! Look at what I found in the back of your closet the other day," she squeals, doing a weird mix between a dance and a walk over to her daughter.

"Why were you in my closet?" Regina demands.

"I was just admiring your dress," her mother says. "Keeps me young. Anyway, I found your... Burn Book!"

"No way!" Gretchen and Karen squeal. They both rush up to gently take the book from her hand and start flipping through it.

"Oh, Cady, this was just the funniest thing they did a few ye-"

"Out, Mom!" Regina insists, pointing to the door.

"You got it, baby! Have fun, let me know if you-" Mrs. George says as she scurries back to the door. Regina glares at her, so she jumps straight to a, "Bye." and shuts the door behind her.

"Cady, come look," Karen says, beckoning her over with a wave.

"We cut out people's pictures from the yearbook and wrote in comments," Gretchen says. They flip to the first page. "Trang Pak is a grotsky little beeyotch."

Cady's met Trang Pak. They have history class together and she's on the junior varsity cheer squad. She doesn't know what grotsky or beeyotch mean, but it doesn't sound like anything good. Cady frowns. Trang doesn't speak all that much English, but she's really nice.

"Still true," Regina titters as she's doing something to her eyebrows at her vanity. Gretchen flips to the next page.

"Dawn Schweitzer is a fat virgin."

"Still half true."

Cady knows Dawn, too. Dawn is one of her bases in cheer, and she's always nice to her. She's frowning and thinking so hard she almost misses them reading the next page. "Janis Sarkisian, space dyke. Oh my god, I forgot about that!"

Almost.

Cady feels her heart skip a beat. What does that mean?

"Who's that?" Karen asks, pointing to the page. Cady takes the excuse to peek over their shoulders at the photo.

It's Janis a few years younger, maybe a freshman. Her hair is much blonder, less of the roots having grown in. She's also wearing what Cady recognizes as her infamous army jacket. Janis said she had been working on painting it for a few years, and she can see it as a work in progress in the photo. She has her arm around Damian, smiling at the camera, but Janis' eyes are... empty, almost.

"That's that kid Damian, remember?" Gretchen says. "He's one of Cady's bases."

"Yeah, he's almost too gay to function," Cady laughs affectionately, quoting what Janis told her a few weeks ago. She loves Damian.

Regina whirls around in her chair. "That's really funny."

"Oh, I didn't mean that in a bad way, I-"

"No, put that in," Gretchen insists, handing over the book. Regina passes her a Sharpie, so Cady hesitantly scrawls the comment with an arrow pointing to Damian. "Oh, and put in that stuff about Ms. Norbury, too! I'll get her picture. The Book is great for venting."

"Karen, we should rinse you out now," Regina says. Karen scrambles to her feet with a nod and runs to the bathroom while Gretchen cuts Ms. Norbury's photo out of the yearbook.

The moment is over, but Cady stares at the drying ink in the book. She tries not to think too hard about what she's done as she closes it and rests it on the velvet seat at the foot of Regina's bed.

—-

Before Cady totally knows what's happened, her hair is rinsed and brushed and braided up and her face mask is cleaned off and she's being patted dry with cushy towels.

"How do you want your makeup?" Regina asks as she dabs some preparatory skincare onto Cady's face.

Cady thinks for a second. Aaron dated Regina at some point. Some point recently. Maybe Regina is the kind of girl he likes. She can't be with him directly, but nothing says she can't try. "I dunno, like yours?"

"Gotcha," Regina says. Cady braces for another whirlwind as Regina taps varying products over her cheeks and swipes blush on with itchy brushes and puts on more layers of eyeshadow than Cady thinks an average girl would apply in her lifetime.

Within an hour, she's done, and her spot is vacated to make room for Karen. Gretchen gasps when she gets a good look at her in full glamorous makeup for the first time. "Oh, Cady, you look so pretty!"

"Thanks," Cady smiles. "Is it supposed to itch this much?"

"Yeah, just don't scratch," Gretchen chuckles. "Look."

She grabs a handheld mirror from Regina's vanity and holds it out so Cady can check herself out without being in anyone's way. Cady takes it and turns her head from side to side to see herself.

It's almost reminiscent of her cheerleading makeup, with less blue and other bright colors. Her eyeshadow is gold to match the sequins on her dress. It's packed on so thick Cady can't really open her eyes all the way, which apparently makes her look sexier. Somehow.

Again, her freckles are totally covered, packed away beneath a thick layer of foundation. Light bronzer makes her look less dead, and blush gives her cheeks an admittedly adorable rosiness. The lipstick is natural looking, which Cady is thankful for. Her lips but better, as Regina explained.

Her look is very similar to all three of her friends', which Cady supposes really solidifies their whole group motif situation. They look nice, even if they all do look like clones of each other.

Regina is more okay with her mother taking pictures of them this time. Cady thinks she understands the point of dances now that she's all decked out in her fancy makeup and pretty dress.

"Look at those fly bitches!" Mrs. George coos as she snaps an unfathomable amount of pictures in just a few seconds. "Oh, you girls look so beautiful!"

"Thanks, Mrs. George," Gretchen, Karen and Cady all say. Regina just smiles the slightest bit wider in response.

"Just one more!" Mrs. George says. "Okay, I'll let you go. Cady, honey, do your parents have Facebook? Instagram? Marco Polo?"

"Uh... I don't think so. But I can give you their phone numbers," Cady replies.

"That'll work," Mrs. George nods eagerly. She hands over her sequined-cased phone that's almost too big for Cady to hold and lets her enter her parents' numbers. "I'll get those sent off. You girls have fun! And remember to use protection!"

"Mom!" Regina groans. "Bye!"

"Bye!"

"We got a limo?" Cady asks in awe as Regina pulls open the door to the fancy vehicle.

"You picked the right lunch table, Cady," Regina smirks.

————-

"Whoa," Cady says when they step into the school. The theme for homecoming this year is loosely based on a casino. One of the PTA parents is working a 'bar' and serving up alcohol free cocktails, with others working blackjack tables and other 'gambling' events.

"Good evening, ladies, would you care for some gambling money?" Principal Duvall greets, offering little goody bags of Monopoly money and poker chips so they can participate in the events.

"No, thanks," Regina hums haughtily before any of the others can speak up. They walk further in, making their way to the gym where the main dance is set up. "I'll never understand why they come up with those bullshit themes. People are here to dance and find people to hook up with, not for a cheap impersonation of Vegas."

"Yeah," Gretchen scoffs. She listens for a second before she squeals, "Oh my god, it's our song!"

Someone grabs Cady's hand and hauls her towards the dance floor, so Cady runs along so she doesn't roll an ankle on these absurdly high heels.

She's surprised to see Regina dancing too. Regina said she only dances to slow songs so she doesn't sweat. Maybe one song is okay for her.

Cady doesn't know how she should dance. She danced to the music the people in the villages played in Kenya, or whatever her parents managed to get their hands on in terms of CD's. But the only people around for hundreds of miles back then were her parents and a few isolated villagers, and they're much less judgmental than American high schoolers.

She tries her best to follow along with her friends' movements. Before she knows it, the song is done. She's slightly out of breath, but she's having fun.

"Alright, I'm gonna go sit down," Regina says. "Later, bitches."

"I'm gonna go too, but I'll find you guys in a minute, okay?" Cady asks.

"Yeah, of course!" Karen says. "Have fun."

"You too! You guys deserve it," Cady says. "I'll be back."

Cady goes to lean against the nearby wall and people watch. For the budget they have, the school is remarkably well decorated. Lots of red streamers and gold confetti scattered around. Cady takes a moment to breathe and try to get used to the thumping bass and blaring music playing through the loudspeakers. The lights are both too dark and too bright at the same time, and Cady's already totally overwhelmed by it all. And her feet already hurt in her shoes.

She screams the slightest bit when someone slides up next to her with a, "Hey."

"Aah! Oh, Aaron! Hi!" she says. "You look so nice!" Hold me 'til the pain goes away, pleasepleaseplease.

"You do too. This dress looks amazing on you," Aaron replies, looking Cady up and down with a small smile.

"Thank you," Cady replies. "How are your friends?"

"I dunno, they all abandoned me as soon as we got here," Aaron says, leaning against the wall next to her with a small but adorable pout.

"That's rude," Cady frowns. "They shouldn't just ditch you like that."

"Nah, they're fine. I get to do my own thing this way," Aaron shrugs. "Like come talk to you."

"Then I'm glad they ditched you," Cady grins, turning her head to look at him. "God, these shoes are the worst!"

"They look painful," Aaron acknowledges with a grimace. "I thought you looked taller."

"Four inches taller," Cady grumbles, rubbing the ball of her sore foot. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I never understood why girls wear those," Aaron says with a shake of his head. "Probably best to keep them on, though, god knows what's gonna be on this floor tonight."

"Ew," Cady whimpers. "Thanks for the tip, though."

"Anytime," Aaron chuckles. "Hey, uh... do you wanna dance?" he asks, offering her a hand. Cady grins and smooths down the skirt of her dress before she takes it.

"I would love to."

Aaron leads her out to the dance floor. Cady wishes she'd had the foresight to request a slow song, but she'll take the upbeat poppy one playing if it means she gets to dance with the boy of her dreams.

Dancing is a bit of a loose descriptor. They're actually just jumping up and down to the beat of the song, or as close to it as they can be fussed to get. Their hands are still linked, and Cady boldly shifts to twine their fingers together. Aaron pulls her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles, making Cady blush furiously beneath her wide smile.

They both deflate a bit when the song ends, pausing their dancing and looking at each other.

"Can I tell you something?" Cady murmurs.

"Yeah, of course. Anything," Aaron replies gently. "What is it?"

"I really-"

"What?!" Aaron yells as another song picks up. Cady sighs. Maybe now isn't the right time.

"Never mind," she says. "I'm gonna go get a drink, do you want anything?"

"Nah, thanks. I'll be here!" Aaron says, starting to dance like a madman once again. Cady giggles at his antics and heads over to the drinks table.

"I wouldn't drink that," a voice says as she pours herself a cup of punch. Cady whirls around in shock, and smiles when she sees Janis. "Already been spiked. Stick with water if you don't want a wilder night than I think you're expecting."

"Thanks," Cady replies with a grateful smile, leaving the cup on the table for someone who wants a buzz to take. Janis nods, but when Cady looks up after pouring herself some water, she's gone.

She finds out why when Regina is there instead. "Why were you talking to her?"

"I wasn't, she was here when I got here," Cady says. "I think she spiked the punch with something."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Regina hums, leaning casually against the bleachers. "She's probably planning some big lesbian orgy and trying to get everyone drunk."

"Probably," Cady agrees. It never gets easier, talking about one of the only decent people she knows like that.

"So how're things going with Aaron? I saw you two talking earlier," Regina says, a glint of something in her eye.

"You're not mad?" Cady asks sheepishly. "I know you... I mean, uh... that he just broke up with you. That must've been hard."

"Oh my god, of course I'm not mad," Regina says, seeming aghast at the mere suggestion. "I'm, like, totally over him. If you want... I could talk to him for you."

"You'd do that?" Cady asks.

"Of course! We're friends, aren't we?"

"Thank you so much, Regina," Cady says, sagging in relief. "Just don't say anything totally embarrassing, please?"

"I gotcha. I'll go right now," Regina hums, pushing off the wall and strutting in Aaron's direction. Cady hastily pours herself another cup of water and chugs it all in one go.

She tries not to make it too obvious that she's watching them, not wanting to seem like a total creeper. She does give a small, shy wave when both Aaron and Regina look in her direction, but beyond that she doesn't risk anything beyond an occasional glance.

Cady is confused when they seem to be getting closer together every time she looks their way.

Her worst fears are realized when she looks up and sees they're no longer there. She looks around the gym, trying to see where they've gone, and finds them on the dance floor. Regina is practically wrapped around Aaron, her arms linked behind his neck and his hands dangerously low on her hips. Regina meets Cady's eyes, a mocking, knowing look in her own before she pulls Aaron down for a kiss.

Cady blinks back tears that threaten to spill and turns around, dropping her cup behind her. The water splashes onto her shoes, but she doesn't care. All she can think about is getting out.

She runs out of the gym and out of the building, ending up on a small staircase that's meant to be a fire escape. She leans against the railing and breaks down.

She should've known. Regina would have never volunteered to do something like that for her without expecting something in return. Without a catch. And what a catch she's gotten.

Of course Aaron would pick Regina over her. Of course he'd pick the girl he's been with before, the one with experience, the one he knows. The pretty one, the hot one, the tall one, the... everything one.

Cady is nothing.

She's not sure how long she's out there, feeling the brisk wind against her bare arms and listening to the birds who have been brave enough to stick around this late into autumn. The one benefit of it being so chilly is that the sky is clearer.

Cady looks up at it, looking at the billions of stars surrounding her. They're not as comforting, anymore. Now they just make her feel small. Even more insignificant than she already felt.

It's not like it really matters. She can barely see them through her tears, anyway.

She about startles out of her skin when the door opens again behind her, whirling around in shock.

Of course it's Janis.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you," she says gently. She heads up next to her, leaning on her elbows against the railing and looking up at the sky with Cady. "Nice night."

"Yeah," Cady sighs, trying to keep the tremble from her voice.

"You okay?" Janis asks lowly. "I know we don't... know each other all that well, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I just wanted to check, I guess."

"Regina... Regina took Aaron back," Cady sniffs. "She just took him back."

Janis gasps gently, but it seems almost like that wasn't too surprising to her. "I'm sorry."

Cady doesn't know how to respond. It's not okay. Cady does care, a lot. She really likes Aaron. She is hurt.

"It's not-not your fault," is what she settles on after a long beat.

"Need a hug?" Janis murmurs gently. Cady nods, not even bothering to check for people who might see them before she sinks into an embrace with her... friend. She thinks she can call Janis that now.

If she couldn't before, she definitely can after this. Janis just holds her close, gently but with the occasional squeeze. She doesn't even mention the tears and snot soaking into the shoulder of her very nice blazer. Janis seems totally unbothered by it. Content just to let Cady do what she needs to do.

"Sorry," Cady sniffles when she pulls back. "I dunno where that came from. I'll get that dry cleaned for you."

"S'alright," Janis shrugs. "Don't worry about it. Hey, um... Damian and I were gonna ditch early and go get waffles, would you... maybe wanna come?"

That sounds amazing, getting away from the too-loud music and lights that hurt her head. And away from her, most of all. But...

"I can't," Cady says apologetically. "I'm sorry. I'd really like to, I just... can't... let her win. I can't let her ruin this night for me."

"Dangerous game," Janis chuckles lowly. Something about it makes the hair on the back of Cady's neck stand up. It's... a warning. "Well, if you're staying, we should fix your makeup."

"Shit, I didn't bring any," Cady realizes.

"Gimme two seconds," Janis says, hauling the heavy door back open and running inside. Cady waits, getting colder and more confused by the second.

Janis returns, as promised, with Damian and a large bag of makeup in tow. Damian coos sadly when he sees Cady's tear-stained face. He gently pulls her into a hug and gives her a squeeze before he pulls her back to observe his canvas.

"Theatre kid," Janis explains when he pulls out some makeup wipes and gets right to work. Cady lets him gently wipe off her ruined makeup and swipe on a quick replacement look. It looks similar enough to what she started with that she doesn't think anyone will be able to tell the difference.

"Thanks," Cady says with a sniffle. Damian holds up a mirror so she can see herself. She almost likes this look better. The foundation he used is thinner, so her freckles actually show through, and her eyeshadow compliments her eye shape more than the old makeup did. "I love it."

"Anytime. You sure you don't wanna come with us?" Damian asks. Cady nods.

"Some other time. But you guys have fun," she replies. She jumps as Damian spritzes her with some setting spray, coughing a bit as she accidentally inhales some.

"Sorry."

"It's okay," Cady giggles. "Thank you."

"We gotcha," Janis says with a wink. "Knock 'em dead, Caddy."

Cady wraps her in another hug, squeezing her so so tightly in thanks. Janis squeezes her back before she turns her around and sends her back into the gym with a pat to her shoulder.

Cady heads right back to the drinks table and grabs yet another cup of water. She chugs it, making extra sure not to smudge the very nice lipstick Damian applied.

Cady feels better once the ice cold water is settled in her stomach. She walks over to Gretchen and Karen, who are taking a break from the dancing to sit on the bleachers and people watch. "Hey!"

"Hey!" they reply, beckoning her over to sit with them.

"I saw Regina with Aaron," Gretchen says. "Are you okay?"

"Oh my god, of course!" Cady says like it's obvious. I've never been less okay in my life, Gretchen, but thanks. "She must've, like, really wanted him back if she was willing to take him like that. I'm glad they're working their stuff out. Do you guys wanna go dance?"

"Uh... sure," Karen agrees. She seems to catch on to Cady's odd demeanor more than Gretchen does, but wisely doesn't bring it up.

Gretchen and Karen follow her back to the dance floor. Both of them squeal when the next song comes on, some upbeat pop song both of them love but Cady doesn't recognize. She dances along anyway.

She looks over her shoulder at Regina as she holds hands with Gretchen and Karen and dances around. Regina has a challenging look, almost a glare, in her eyes. Waiting to see Cady's response, what she'll do, what she dares to try.

So Cady just smiles.

To anyone else watching, it's a friend smiling at a friend. But Cady knows. Regina knows. A smile can be a threat.

This one says you may have won the battle, but I will win the war.

A declaration.

May the best girl win.

————-

hope you enjoyed!!

here's the links to everyone's dresses! the colors aren't exactly what i was envisioning for most of them but the styles are so just bear that in mind :

regina: https://www.lucyinthesky.com/shop/giulia-square-neck-dress-in-pink-sequins

gretchen: https://www.lucyinthesky.com/shop/doe-power-mesh-long-sleeve-dress-in-purple

karen: https://www.elliewilde.com/ellie-wilde/fall-2020/ew22018s

cady: https://www.promgirl.com/shop/dresses/viewitem-PD2420297

have a lovely day!

#cadnis #paint by numbers #space safari #cady heron x janis sarkisian #cady x janis #cady heron #janis sarkisian #regina george #gretchen wieners #karen smith #aaron samuels #damian hubbard #mean girls #mean girls musical #mean girls broadway #mean girls the musical #mean girls on broadway #picking teams

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