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fuck-your-chickenstrips-hoe · 11 months

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Forever and always, Mi Amor 🤞🏾

E42 Miles G Morales

part: 1

Warnings: Nothing too big. Light swearing,Miles is AGED UP ( he's around 18, pushin’ 19.) For people in the back, READER IS BLACK. (Reader is also about 18-19) Reader uses she/they/her pronouns (If this picks up more traction I will translate it for our he/him’s and our they/them’s.) Bad Spanish (Spanish is NOT my first language, i’m still learning little by little, so if im saying anything wrong PLEASE tell me so i can fix it.) Miles is a bit of an OOC, cause there’s like not any official material other than his ability to rizz himself up. Miles is healed/ healing from his father’s death. This isn’t edited, so if there’s bad grammar, keep it to yourself please, this is my first official fic since my dingy wattpad days, so let me warm up. LOTS OF DIALOG

Summary: You just wanted to take your boyfriend out to dinner.

It's about 5:15 pm when you enter Miles’s apartment. He had given you a key as soon as he moved out of his momma’s house a few months ago, going on about how if you needed a place to hide from the outside world, you’d always have a place to go. “Miles! ¿Mi amor,dónde estás?” (my love, where are you?) You call out wandering through his apartment. You knew he had to be somewhere because his 2015 Mercedes-Benz c300 was parked outside. “Miles, baby, are you home?” Calling again as you reach the hallway that leads to his bedroom, “He has to be in his room.”, You conclude as you hear the low bass of what was hoped was his music. Looking around as you walk, you see pictures of his family (mainly his uncle and his dad) and a couple of paintings you made him for past birthdays.

When you finally make it to his bedroom door, you fling it open. “Miles! ¿Así que aquí es donde te escondes?” ( so this is where you’ve been hiding) Miles flinched at the sudden noise, putting his gadget aside as he turned in his desk chair to face you. “Oh, Hey mami,” He says with his hand over his heart, trying to recover from your little jump scare. “¿Qué pasa?” (what’s up)

“Nothing’ really. Just thought I should stop by, 'cause I miss you ‘n shit.” You say as you slot yourself between his legs so you can look down into his rich cinnamon-colored eyes. “Well ain't you know how to make a man feel special?” He says as he places his hands around your waist. “Baby, I was just about to put this sucka down and go for a run.” He says, referencing his discarded gadget. “You can stay here unless you want to come with me. I'm always up for a running partner” He follows up with a smirk and wiggling eyebrows. “Nah, baby. You know how much cardio I ‘ate doin’ cardio.” You scrunch your nose in mock disgust as you motion for him to push back his seat, which he complies with. “What’s this gadget ‘bout ?” You ask as you place yourself on his lap. “Oh, this?” He wraps his arm around your waist as he spins the chair to grab his contraption. “I’ve been tweaking it for a while, but it’s supposed to be a power dampener. I’m not sure if it works, but it’s something I've been experimenting with.” He looks back and forth between you and his work. “¿Quieres echar un vistazo,princesa?” ( you wanna take a look, princess?) You smile brightly as you nod. “Yes please!!!” Miles gives you a soft half-smile in return as he hands it over. “It ain't perfect, but I think it needs a new processing chip and more stabilizers here, here, here, and right there.”

You follow his long nimble fingers as he points out specific areas on his machine. “Oh, and the circuiting! I haven't finished with that, but at the….” You didn’t catch the rest of his rant, too caught up in how his eyes seem to glow with excitement as he goes on and on about his work.

“And that’s how….Baby… Hey…” He snaps you out of your trance. “Am I nerding you out? I seemed to have lost ya?” You feel your face grow hot at the call-out. “No, baby! You was doing just fine. Just got a little lost at how you need to wire the-um.. the..thingy.” You say sheepishly. Robotics was never your thing. “Yes, the thingy.” He teased as he gently removed his work from your hands. “I'm glad you are at least a little interested in what I do, even when I nerd out…You know I love it when you take an interest in me.” He says, smiling down at you. “Well I think it's hot when you nerd out, and even if I didn’t- which will never happen- I’ll always be invested in you.” You say as you cup his cheek, which he leans into.

“When did I get so lucky…” He mumbles to himself in your hand. “You got lucky because I'm a sucker for men that want to heal themselves. Now, I wanna hear more about this… this power dampener!” You say in hopes to continue seeing his eyes light up. “Oh, um, sure.'' Miles smiles lightly. “So the goal of the device is to create a disturbance in the electrons of an object. The effects of it depend on the range between the power source and my machine.” As you listen, Miles's facial expressions light up, and he begins to move his hands animatedly. When he looks down into your eyes, he’s shocked by how genuinely interested you are. “Baby, has anyone told you how fuckin’ smart you are?” You hum as you nip at his cheek. “Oh..Um” Miles was taken aback by the intensity of your praise. “Awh- Well- Not- Not recently…No..” He says with a chuckle trying to deflect. “You might be biased, mami.” He kisses your cheek. “Thank you, but I promise I'm just your average tech guy.” You snort at his dismissive behavior. “Now why would I be biased?” You quirk a brow. “Are you callin’ me a liar? Cause you know I’d NEVER lie to you, Mi Amor. Lo llamo como lo veo.”(I’m calling it how I see it) You state with no room to argue. Your boy needs to know how special he is.

“Well… I mean” Miles gives a dramatic sign. “Well if MY GIRL says I’m smart, then who am I to argue?” He gives one of his cocky-ass smirks. “Ain't that the truth!” You puff out your chest with pride. It always makes you ecstatic when he calls you HIS GIRL. “Well now that MY MAN knows how smart he is, do you think he’ll be smart enough to let HIS GIRL bring him to dinner after his run? My treat since he always pays.” You say with a smirk of your own. Miles considers the idea for a moment. “Well, I might as well be a genius because who am I to say no? But no promises on you paying.” He responds as he reachs out to flick your forehead. “Nope.” You emphasize the ‘p’ with a pop, grabbing his hand before it makes contact. “I'm gonna pay for everything because you quite literally refuse to let me pay for shit.” You huff as he keeps trying to assault your forehead with finger flicks.

He lets out a chuckle-the that makes his chest rumble-as he finds it amusing how passionate you are about paying. “¿Qué tiene de divertido?(what’s so funny) I wanna know, too,asshole!” You whine feeling left out. “Es nada.(it’s nothing) I just find your determination endearing.” Your face grows increasingly hot. “Well… Good! ‘Cause this determination’s going to make sure your takin’ care of. You might as well call me your sugar mommy for the night.” You wink and blow him a kiss as you get off his lap to sit on his bed. “So tell mommy where you wanna go” You jest wagging your fingers. “ Ha-” He stifles a laugh. “Well then….Mommy, there’s that new steak place you’ve been wanting to try out. Although it's a 'lil expensive… So we can split the bill."

Miles tries to play it slick. “Eres gracioso.(you’re funny) If you want steak, then we’ll go have steak. But don’t think for a moment that I ain’t got it like that. You and I both know my ass makes enough to order half the menu and then do it again tomorrow.” It upsets Miles sometimes how hard you work. Splitting your time between getting your degree, working at your paid internship, and braiding hair on the weekends, you barely have time for yourself…or him. “I know, Mi Amor.” He says, moving to kiss your forehead. “Solo estaba jugando. (I was just playing) I know you got me.” He says, planting his kiss, causing you to pout. “Why the long face, baby girl?'' Miles teased as he pushed a stray braid behind your ear. “You just got to be difficult. Just let me take care of ya.” He smiles and rubs his hand against your brown skin. “You’re gon have to make me.” He jests with a shine in his warm brown eyes. “Is that a challenge, Mr. Moralas?” Your pout turned into a wicked grin. “I'm afraid so, baby girl.” His heart kicks into gear at the sight of your grin. “Well, then you best hurry up and get to ya runnin’ then? Wouldn’t want you to skip that delicious cardio, now would we?” You mock, trying to push the process of dinner. “There’s no way you just called cardio delicious.'' Miles finds himself laughing as he pulls away to find his running shoes. “I can’t help it! You just look so good when you finish a run, I can't be blamed for associating cardio with yummy.” You try to defend yourself. “Suuuure, mami. That’s why.” Sarcasm and an eye-roll quickly follow, causing you to flip him off. “Just hurry up so we can eat.” You jokingly hound as he makes his way back to you. “Yeah, yeah. Im goin’, im goin’! Just give ya man a kiss before he goes, ok? You're my Forever and always, Mi Amor.” This was how you two always departed. It was a way for Miles to express how much he valued you since he learned the hard way that time is precious, and last words hold meaning. “My Forever n’ always, Mi Amor.” You repeat as your lips part. Satisfied Miles kisses you one more time and heads for the door. “I’ll be back.” He calls before he locks the front door behind him.

*Guys, if yall want a part 2, please say so in either my asks or the comments. I won't know if it's good enough to continue if yall don't interact.🤧👍🏾*

#black reader #x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #atsv x black!reader #across the spiderverse #marvel #marvel x reader

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brick-a-doodle-do · 2 years

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Favorite Dsmp duo and favorite trope

my favorite dsmp duo changes depending on what it’s for, but, for g/t, my favorite duo is easily t!george or g!dream (or vice versa,,,)

my favorite trope changes so often !! right now, though, i think it's a giant seeming eerie and terrifying, despite them trying to be funny/playful. and they've got no idea the tiny is scared shitless :)

(unintentional fearplay lol)

i saw a video about manhunt in george's pov and it was super cool so obviously i gotta make it g/t 😎 (this video should definitely be watched beforehand cause my descriptions are slacking lol)

soooo have this lil thing :D

(also have the tiktok cause damn it’s awesome)

oh george~

tw: vore, un/intentional fearplay (kinda both), panic/hyperventilation

wc: 1614

—–—

First hunter, first to die. That seemed like a false statement, but, after having been through this very thing innumerable times, George can only stand face-to-face with agreement. While he may have had more experience with Dream as a person, he has had no change in his agility or stamina since the very first time they’d tried this rather irritating game. To go against a giant, for him, would be welcoming his demise with open arms. And while he’s done it before, he is not looking for a second death when they’re only less than half an hour into the hunt. So, he’s taken a shortcut.

Water splashed around him as his boots collided with the ground under the river rushing harshly downstream. A subtle wave of pain traveled through his body as he took a hint of damage. He steadied himself, keeping himself from falling directly into the strong water.

“Geoorge~”

George froze at the calling of his name, a flutter in his stomach erupting instantly. His hands inches to his pathetic excuse of a weapon: a dull wooden sword that he was lucky enough to craft in the short time span he was given. His breathing picked up, creating an eerie echo. George’s eyes couldn’t seem to find a resting place as they looked every-which-way, darting from cavern to crevice to wildlife as he tried to find even a clue that Dream was nearby. He’d not expected to be followed after his death. In fact, he wasn’t aware that Dream knew where he was at all, especially considering the fact that he’d looked rather busy with the other four members of his party.

“I’m gonna kill you, George!” Dream laughed softly. He sounded delighted to speak these words, like it was a pleasure to create pain for the hunter. George panted, finally pulling the weapon from where it rested on his side. His knuckles became white from the intense grip he had on the handle, but, despite the pain, he stuck to the grasp. George’s mind begged him to crouch in the small indent in the stone ‘wall’, however he knew there would be no use in hiding from Dream. It’ll simply be taunt, after taunt, after taunt, until he forces George out. That being through mental manipulation or Earthly damage. He stayed put. As if any kind of defense he attempted would truly wound the giant enough to disable him.

George looked up, taking in the scenery before he’d be momentarily visiting the afterlife. The tip of the ravine was littered in green trees, a sign of early Spring. George looked down when a branch snapped from the water, startling him out of his gaze. “George,” Dream drawled. He sounded like a child calling for a cat, or perhaps a cat calling for a mouse. George’s panicked respires returned once more, and fear laced his body once again.

He aimlessly spun at a slow speed, eyeing the rock formations above him. He exhaled shakily.

“Where, oh where, is Georgenotfound?~” Dream said in a sing-songy tone of voice, his words soft, taunting. It sounded far too close to a doll with a whiny old voice box.

George continued his mindless movements and uncontrollable hyperventilation as he stood there in nothing but anticipation. Dream’s mask, his voice, any sign of him, really. Or, just simply his demise. Perhaps a boulder or a tree. George shuddered, then exhaled shakily at the thought of being in such a vulnerable position, and still, although he told himself otherwise, kept drifting towards the only thing that could really be called safety.

George was startled into looking elsewhere for the second time, as the subtle sound of stone hitting stone resonated in the thin space. He caught sight of it instantly, watching as little more than a pebble drifted downwards from the very top of the ravine. George’s heart sunk, and somehow his deathly grip on the weapon became significantly stronger. He inhaled, trying to gather what little confidence he had remaining.

Dream laughed. And, it wasn’t a lighthearted, amused laugh. It was a taunt, with a tone so similar to the last sentence he spoke. If nothing else made him frightened, it would now be this. It echoed around the canyon a hundredfold, adding to the eeriness his repeated pants created. A string of swears flowed through his mind, just as the water did. The sound rang in his mind, efficiently giving him more goosebumps than he could grasp. Every time he thought the wretched echoes of a laugh had finally taken their leave, he’d just shudder again. Until, eventually, it did stop. As the very last, unfortunately loud, vibration of Dream’s voice bounced back and forth from stone wall to stone wall, Dream spoke up again, “Come here, George!”

A shadow fell over where he stood. George knew painfully well what was to come. He directed his worried eyes upwards, instantly dropping the wooden sword as he stared with intense eyes at the hand coming at him at a speed far too quick. “No!” George yelped, screamed, as skin was all he could see. He had yet to properly register what was happening, until four fingers were closing over him like a cage, with Dream’s thumb securing him to the palm, as if somehow he could attempt, or even successfully, make an escape.

George huffed, freeing one of his arms from the gentle, yet firm, grip Dream had on him. He drew his hand to his face, pulling up the goggles that cover his eyes. And, right as he did so, sunlight drifted back onto his tiny form, welcoming him with a ripple of fresh air. He gasped, struggling against the thumb. “Hi, George,” Dream undoubtedly grinned behind the awful mask that covered his face. “Dream, you are so annoying, put me down,” He didn’t have it in him to be scared. George’s memory was not awful, he knew that Dream had four other human’s to be worried about. He knew that, when he died, he was paying attention to them. But, now, he’s here, distracting both himself and George.

Dream tilted his hand so that it was laying flat, then positioned his fingers so he was able to give George free room to move, while still creating somewhat of a barrier against him. “Why are you bothering me? Shouldn’t you be like…hiding?”

“You were…far easier to get to.”

George rolled his eyes, shifting upwards.

Dream rose a hand to his face, gripping onto the edge of the mask to pull it upwards, only to where his mouth was visible. George scrambled back into the fingers, instantly knowing exactly what was happening. “Dream, seriously, you are so annoying. Put me down,” He muttered, trying unfortunately hard to cover the shake in his voice.

“Why? You’re just going to die if I do. I’m just keeping you safe, George,” Dream hummed, opening his maw and drawing George closer to it. He titled his hand, and even though he tried his utmost hardest to avoid falling into Dream’s open mouth, he failed, and gravity did its terrible job of making George tumble past a row of too-sharp teeth and right onto his friend’s tongue with a small groan of protest.

“Dream!” He called out, watching with a frown as he saw he now was covered in darkness. He sat up, then slowly rose to his feet. The surface under him, or rather the wet muscle under him, twitched as he tried his share at walking along it. Instead of making it more than five steps, however, he instead stumbled back down.

George yelped as he was tossed to the side of Dream’s mouth; his cheek. The very same tongue he was on just a moment before prodded at him, coating him in a disgusting layer of saliva. He groaned, “Dream, you’re actually disgusting–” George stood there, at a total loss for words as he felt a familiar feeling of revulsion circulating inside of him. Then, after a short second, his body was unwillingly being moved to a different area. He somehow ended up situated atop Dream’s tongue again, more saliva pooling under him. He nearly gagged at the sticky feeling. “Dream, please, let me out of here, it’s disgusting,” he tried.

Technically, he was met with a response. Just, not the one he particularly wanted.

Instead of being spat back out into the outside world, into a space where spit wasn’t actively dripping down onto him, he found himself tilting down again. He yelped again, trying to dig his nails into the muscle. However, he realized a moment too late that they were too dull to do anything useful. So, instead of saving himself from a very uncomfortable few hours, he fell effortlessly down into Dream’s throat, where only one swallow was what it took to send him traveling down a tight gullet, where he could hear the sounds of his friend’s body echoing around him just as the very same friends’ voice had echoed around the ravine.

And, like that, he was in the place he absolutely despised.

George landed in Dream’s storage quickly, where he found that there still was an uncomfortable humidity in the room, along with the usual sticky-ness of the ‘walls’ around him. George huffed, folding his arms tightly as he found a place to rest for the rest of the evening. “I hate you.” George murmured quietly, breaking his annoyed facade (that only he could really see,) to prop himself up against the wall. His hands slid down as he tried to pull himself upwards. He nearly gagged again, shuddering at the uncomfortable feeling.

George can’t help but hope the hunters win.

_________ ׂׂ

gross, i used ‘~’ /j

^^ i rarely use that. today is a special occasion :)

i love this i this love this

i speedwrote it while waiting for the dteam vlog but STILL >:D

also dream’s dialogue up until when dre catches george is not mine and is from the video !!!! ⚠️⚠️

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reading-wanderer · 1 year

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DP x Pokémon AU

In collage Vlad finds and adopts at trubbish that he finds. He either doesn’t have another Pokémon companion or it’s like the family Pokémon, so it’s not really bonded to him much and is just there for his protection. It’s a girl that he names after his dead sister, but Jack likes to call her G-man (garbage man) to go with the V-man nickname.

The portal they’re building is still to the ghost zone, but that means something a bit different than DP canon, because ghosts are considered Pokémon/ can become Pokémon in the human realm. Jack and Maddie both have Dark type Pokémon specifically to fight against whatever ghosts come through (I haven’t quite decided what their companions are)

But then the accident happens and Vlad gets blasted by the portal and rushed to the hospital. Normally companion pokemon are welcome, encouraged even, but his is a literal sentient pile of trash. She’s not sanitary and his condition is delicate so Jack takes her in. And then they just. Never visit.

So Jazz and Danny grow up with this pile of trash that just kind of migrates around the house and mopes most of the time, but then their parents start their new portal experiment and suddenly the trash is on a rampage, trying to destroy their stuff and prevent Danny or Jazz from going anywhere near the basement. The portal gets finished, but doesn’t work and they can’t figure out why.

By the time they get the reunion invitation, Danny still hasn’t had his accident but his new Pokémon has been troublesome enough that he and Jazz still get dragged along.

So then once they get there, Jack tells Vlad that he has a surprise for him and releases the trubbish from her ball and Vlad, who is rich now and has a trio of very well trained and expensive Pokémon that he keeps as guards, finds himself just staring blankly down at the Pokémon he never though he’d see again. (And isn’t this just another thing to be pissed at Jack over, the trubbish was His and Jack should have given her back well before this point).

The trubbish practically attaches herself to him and for the rest of the visit, he’s walking around with a sentient trash bag in his arms— which ends up derailing his whole plan so the Fenton’s leave un-attacked and unaware of the danger they just avoided. Then they go home and there’s nothing keeping Danny and Jazz out of the basement anymore so Danny has his accident. Except, now he knows someone who also had an accident and is much more willing to go seek him out.

#reader babble #pokemonxDP #Danny phantom #Vlad Masters #I have thoughts #also like three ongoing fics that need to be updated #the plot bunnies need to pipe down

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iwannawritelots · 2 years

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Tears

Originally written April 2022

Masterlist

Genre: angst, comfort

Ship(s): Satan X MC

(genderless MC)

Trigger/content warnings: mental breakdown, self-blame, lesson 16 spoilers

Headcanons/notes from the author: The spoilers for lesson 16 are immediate so no before-the-cut paragraph and the blurb is more vague than usual sorry lol

Brief Blurb: Satan and MC cry.

A few days had passed since the incident with Belphegor, and you had not left bed. You had been given death, and somehow came back despite how much you wished you hadn’t. The only company you had liked the past few days was from Satan. He was very quiet, only sitting on the edge of the bed and running his fingers through your hair whenever he came in. You didn’t have to speak, and he didn’t either. It was a connection that the two of you shared after being a couple so long.

Your bedroom door very quietly squeaked, then squeaked again. Satan’s familiar footfalls sounded, then the creak from your mattress as he sat in his usual spot. The two of you sat there in silence for a while, and for a moment you thought he might say something… but he didn’t. He simply played with your hair like always. Your body relaxed at his touch, and you listened to his breaths as they got more unstable with the passage of time. This wasn’t how it had been the last few days…

Slowly, you rolled over to look at him. Fat tears raced down his cheeks, and he had a black eye, a bloody nose… “Satan…? What happened?”

He stared at the wall, sniffled, then glanced at you. “G-Got in a fight with Belphegor.”

“Why…?” you questioned, genuinely confused. Nobody else seemed to care about what the avatar of sloth had done to you, so this had to be unrelated.

“He killed you…” mumbled Satan, voice shaking. “I… hate him…”

Attempting to smile, you told him, “I’m still here, Satan…”

“You’re… in pain…”

“Satan…”

“Why else would you be bedridden…?” Satan began to suffocate on sobs that were sneaking up on him. “I did nothing to stop it…” He violently wiped his face, crying and wheezing. “Y-You… Y-You must be in s-so m-much mental a-anguish…”

You couldn’t bear how heartbroken he sounded, but couldn’t lie to him as comfort. Satan would see through your lies, and it would only upset him more. “It’s not your fault, Satan…”

“I-It is…” he insisted, crying quickly becoming hysterical the more he attempted to calm himself. “I-I am s-s-so sorry… I-I’m s-sorry you got d-dragged d-down h-here…”

“Satan, it’s fine—”

“N-No it’s n-not!” he wailed, rubbing his fists into his eyes. “Y-You’re s-s-so uns-safe h-here! Y-Y-You haven’t ev-ven been a-allowed to s-stay with the o-other h-h-hum-man!” He sniffled and wiped his face, but he couldn’t stop crying after letting out the built up frustration. “Y-Y-You should be th-the one who’s c-crying, b-but y-you d-didn’t e-even b-bat an e-eye at th-them letting B-Belph-phie off the h-hook!”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” you told him gently, feeling tears well up in your eyes. “That’s all…”

“H-How could I n-n-not w-worry!?” he sobbed, burying his face in his hands. “Y-You j-just… I-I l-love you! I l-love you s-so m-much…”

“I love you so much too, Satan.” Carefully, you pulled him down to lay with you. He cooperated without any struggle, quickly burrowing into your shoulder. “I’ll be fine, kitten…” you cooed, petting his hair.

“N-Now you’re c-c-comf-forting me… I-I’m s-sorry…” he muttered. “I-I w-wanted t-to comf-fort you… N-Not the o-other w-w-way around…”

“I know, Satan…” you assured him quietly. “I know you didn’t mean to cry, but you keep so many emotions in; it was bound to happen.” You pulled him close to yourself, and he snuggled into the crook of your neck. Blinking out a few tears, you gave him a soft squeeze. “I’ll be okay… I’ve got you, after all.”

“P-Please… nev-ver go a-away a-ag-gain…”

#satan x mc #mc x satan #satan #mc #gn mc #obey me! one master to rule them all #obey me! shall we date?#obey me!#obey me #omomtrta #omswd #om #fanfiction #fanfic #darlingficsbycinna #iwannawritelots

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halothenthehorns · 1 year

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Chapter 20: THE FLEECE WORKS ITS MAGIC TOO WELL

"At least these things aren't long, no offense Percy," Magnus said as he thumbed through the last few pages and glanced at the still staggering pile.

"None taken," Percy quickly assured. "You think I want more crap happening to me in each book!" He was rubbing his necklace where the second one resided. The silver pine tree painted in detail on the golden clay bead had been obvious at the start, but ominous now.

Magnus nodded agreement to that, silently thinking that whatever happened to Percy inevitably also affected Annabeth and the less of that the better as he theatrically cleared his throat and read the new title.

Percy felt un unpleasant buzzing in the side of his head for definitely being able to figure this one out early. Thankfully it wasn't quite painful, but left him jittery in his seat all the same like he should be waiting for something to go wrong with Thalia now permanently back in the picture, but at least she'd been here all along so it didn't torment him to guess right.

"That would be a real puzzling one if the evidence wasn't right in front of us," Jason chuckled as Thalia lounged out in her chair.

"Something good came out of this misadventure for everybody," Will laughed at the explosive following weeks where Percy and Thalia hadn't exactly blossomed into immediate friends, but he'd never seen Annabeth happier.

That afternoon was one of the happiest I'd ever spent at camp, which maybe goes to show, you never know when your world is about to be rocked to pieces.

"So dramatic, such intrigue, what on earth could be about to happen?" Thalia said with almost a straight face.

"Remind me to enter you into a poker tournament," Percy rolled his eyes.

Grover announced that he'd be able to spend the rest of the summer with us before resuming his quest for Pan.

"Well I would hope so," Jason yelped. "Guy spent long enough and nearly died on the last one."

"Like that's going to stop him," Percy grinned as the happy feelings flowed right back into him now. Grover had been getting cheered by every bush he'd passed for being the first satyr to come back alive, but more importantly, he was safe at home again.

His bosses at the Council of Cloven Elders were so impressed that he hadn't gotten himself killed and had cleared the way for future searchers, that they granted him a two-month fur-lough and a new set of reed pipes. The only bad news: Grover insisted on playing those pipes all afternoon long, and his musical skills hadn't improved much. He played "YMCA," and the strawberry plants started going crazy, wrapping around our feet like they were trying to strangle us.

"If Polyphemus had just given him some reed pipes, I bet he'd have annulled the marriage himself," Nico chuckled.

I guess I couldn't blame them.

Grover told me he could dissolve the empathy link between us, now that we were face to face,

Percy was already shaking his head as the sentence started and was pressing a stubborn hand to the back of his head like he could hold it into place, nobody needed the following outburst from him saying as much.

but I told him I'd just as soon keep it if that was okay with him. He put down his reed pipes and stared at me. "But, if I get in trouble again, you'll be in danger, Percy! You could die!"

"If you get in trouble again, I want to know about it. And I'll come help you again, G-man. I wouldn't have it any other way."

In the end he agreed not to break the link. He went back to playing "YMCA" for the strawberry plants. I didn't need an empathy link with the plants to know how they felt about it.

"Thrilled enough to murder, that's a real accomplishment on some level," Alex's lip was quivering by the end he tried so hard to say that sincerely.

Later on during archery class, Chiron pulled me aside and told me he'd fixed my problems with Meriwether Prep. The school no longer blamed me for destroying their gymnasium. The police were no longer looking for me.

"How did you manage that?" I asked.

Chiron's eyes twinkled. "I merely suggested that the mortals had seen something different on that day—a furnace explosion that was not your fault."

"You just said that and they bought it?"

"I manipulated the Mist. Some day, when you're ready, I'll show how it's done."

"That's a thing!" Percy burst out. "Why has he not been teaching me that this entire time!"

Thalia had to press her fist against her mouth to stop herself from busting out laughing he still didn't know it to this day.

"You mean, I can go back to Meriwether next year?"

Chiron raised his eyebrows. "Oh, no, they've still expelled you.

Then she and everyone began laughing once more, and Percy sighed but waved it on. "Fine, whatever, I'm worried the apocalypse would come early if I managed to ever leave a school without getting expelled. Surely it's one of the coming signs of doom."

"I still think we should talk to Chiron about implementing some of their school curriculums," Will insisted, "deadly dodgeball would be a hit with the Ares kids, and blowing shit up would be a class the Stoll brothers would ace."

"I'm sure Chiron will squeeze it in between the lava wall, arts and crafts practice, and their roller coaster of doom," Percy agreed as he waved vaguely at the Norse kids.

Your headmaster, Mr. Bonsai, said you had—how did he put it?—un-groovy karma that disrupted the school's educational aura.

Percy made a strange face as he tried to decide if that was insulting or not. Was the principal implying he was too smart to go there?

...that was a first.

But you're not in any legal trouble, which was a relief to your mother.

"Frankly I don't know what she's going to do with all of her free time now she's not worried about that," Percy said with nothing but relief.

Oh, and speaking of your mother ..."

He unclipped his cell phone from his quiver and handed it to me. "It's high time you called her."

Percy expected more snickering laughter on his part for having to check in with his mom, but all he saw were sad smiles and a strained delivery from Magnus. Nobody had forgotten poor Sally had been left in the dark for the entirety of Percy's quest on what was going on with him.

The worst part was the beginning—the "Percy-Jackson-what-were-you-thinking-do-you-have-any-idea-how-worried-I-was-sneaking-off-to-camp-without-permission-going-on-dangerous-quests-and-scaring-me-half-to-death" part.

Alex gave him a slow clap for managing all that in one breath though.

But finally she paused to catch her breath. "Oh, I'm just glad you're safe!"

That's the great thing about my mom. She's no good at staying angry. She tries, but it just isn't in her nature.

Percy was smiling so much it looked painful. A part of him still hated himself for leaving her in Hades's realm for moments like this, how could he ever have hoped to keep going without her there at the end of every crazy summer he had?

"I'm sorry, Mom," I told her. "I won't scare you again."

"Don't make promises you can't keep Percy," Thalia said ruefully.

Percy sighed because he knew she was right. Wishing and regrets didn't get you much, and no action he ever took would hold that promise.

"Don't promise me that, Percy. You know very well it will only get worse." She tried to sound casual about it, but I could tell she was pretty shaken up.

I wanted to say something to make her feel better, but I knew she was right. Being a halfblood, I would always be doing things that scared her. And as I got older, the dangers would just get greater.

"I could come home for a while," I offered.

"That probably was the best thing you could have said to her," Jason nodded diplomatically.

"No, no. Stay at camp. Train. Do what you need to do. But you will come home for the next school year?"

"Yeah, of course. Uh, if there's any school that will take me."

"Oh, we'll find something, dear," my mother sighed. "Some place where they don't know us yet."

"Not Canada, California, New York, and probably St. Louis if they're still holding a grudge against you blowing up their arch," Thalia ticked off on her fingers. "You're not even a teenager yet and you're already racking up a considerable list."

"I chose to take that as a compliment," he rolled his eyes.

As for Tyson, the campers treated him like a hero. I would've been happy to have him as my cabin mate forever, but that evening, as we were sitting on a sand dune overlooking the Long Island Sound, he made an announcement that completely took me by surprise.

"He adopted a cat to help his sphynx fear?" Magnus grinned.

"He and Clarisse teamed up for the next chariot race and you're screwed," Jason chuckled.

"He was secretly Poseidon all along?" Alex snickered.

"This is what you guys have been reduced to?" Percy asked in exasperation. "You can't guess the chapter titles anymore so you drag this out?"

"We've having fun," Jason reminded.

Percy huffed and glared at the stack of books. Surely they couldn't all be about him, and they'd get their dues how 'fun' this was.

"Dream came from Daddy last night," he said. "He wants me to visit."

I wondered if he was kidding, but Tyson really didn't know how to kid.

"True," Will nodded, "Connor tried to teach him a knock-knock joke once and it didn't go well." They'd repaired that whole in the Hermes door with smiles.

"I'll take him as is," Percy reminded with pride.

"Poseidon sent you a dream message?"

Tyson nodded. "Wants me to go underwater for the rest of the summer. Learn to work at Cyclopes' forges.

"Wait," Magnus went cross-eyed in that now familiar expression of something strange everybody else hadn't looked twice at. "Underwater? Forge? Don't forges require, you know, fire?"

"He's immune to fire," Percy shrugged like that's all the explanation he'd ever thought up for this, a great look of disappointment on his face he clearly hadn't been invited to come obviously bothering him a lot more than normal rules of physics.

He called it an inter—an intern—"

"An internship?"

"If it's anything like that school's charity case, I'd be worried," Alex scoffed. "All work and no pay while being criticized."

"Hope they at least have decent office supplies to steal," Magnus agreed.

"Yes."

I let that sink in. I'll admit, I felt a little jealous. Poseidon had never invited me underwater.

"Go with him!" Jason looked ready to start shaking Percy in hopes the memory of that happening would appear. "I'd call that plenty of training!"

"Now I'm being encouraged around fire huh?" Percy brushed him off, no matter how tempting the idea was. One notorious way to get attention from your parents was to sneak around right? Why not right into his dad's domain, see how long he was ignored then.

Then he remembered he was trapped at the bottom of the ocean without so much as a wave of hello and his scowl only grew.

But then I thought, Tyson was going? Just like that?

"When would you leave?" I asked.

"Now."

"Now. Like ... now now?"

"Now."

"I think he's going now," Magnus added helpfully.

"Perceptive as your cousin," Percy huffed.

I stared out at the waves in the Long Island Sound. The water was glistening red in the sunset.

"I'm happy for you, big guy," I managed. "Seriously."

"Hard to leave my new brother," he said with a tremble in his voice. "But I want to make things. Weapons for the camp. You will need them."

Unfortunately, I knew he was right. The Fleece hadn't solved all the camp's problems. Luke was still out there, gathering an army aboard the Princess Andromeda. Kronos was still reforming in his golden coffin. Eventually, we would have to fight them.

All of the Greek kids grimaced at this, and Magnus sighed as the book dipped in his hands and he looked uneasily around at the others to come. They were only just done with the first two, it would be a miracle to survive all of them.

"You'll make the best weapons ever," I told Tyson. I held up my watch proudly. "I bet they'll tell good time, too."

"I hope he does that exclusively, starts a haberdashery of weapons and watches," Alex beamed.

Hearth smiled to himself maybe Blitz would like a business partner.

Tyson sniffled. "Brothers help each other."

"You're my brother," I said. "No doubt about it."

He patted me on the back so hard he almost knocked me down the sand dune. Then he wiped a tear from his cheek and stood to go. "Use the shield well."

"I will, big guy."

"Save your life some day."

The way he said it, so matter-of-fact, I wondered if that Cyclops eye of his could see into the future.

"Maybe, if it's a one-time-only kind of use," Jason muttered as he hadn't exactly done much of that yet, but he was quickly adapting to the idea he shouldn't assume he knew otherwise.

He headed down to the beach and whistled. Rainbow, the hippocampus, burst out of the waves. I watched the two of them ride off together into the realm of Poseidon.

Once they were gone, I looked down at my new wristwatch. I pressed the button and the shield spiraled out to full size. Hammered into the bronze were pictures in Ancient Greek style, scenes from our adventures this summer. There was Annabeth slaying a Laistrygonian dodgeball player, me fighting the bronze bulls on Half-Blood Hill, Tyson riding Rainbow toward the Princess Andromeda, the CSS Birmingham blasting its cannons at Charybdis. I ran my hand across a picture of Tyson, battling the Hydra as he held aloft a box of Monster Donuts.

"I need whoever's permission I have to get to turn that into a vase!" Alex seemed to demand of the universe as a whole.

"You have my blessing," Percy assured.

I couldn't help feeling sad. I knew Tyson would have an awesome time under the ocean. But I'd miss everything about him—his fascination with horses, the way he could fix chariots or crumple metal with his bare hands, or tie bad guys into knots. I'd even miss him snoring like an earth-quake in the next bunk all night.

"Hey, Percy."

I turned.

Annabeth and Grover were standing at the top of the sand dune. I guess maybe I had some sand in my eyes, because I was blinking a lot.

"Tyson ..." I told them. "He had to ..."

"We know," Annabeth said softly. "Chiron told us."

"Cyclopes forges." Grover shuddered. "I hear the cafeteria food there is terrible! Like, no enchiladas at all."

"Where did he hear that from?" Nico asked, it's not like Grover had ever struck up a conversation with a cyclops before.

"Nymph gossip, maybe a cyclops has even visited camp before," Will shrugged. "Poseidon might have sent one as a blessing to help, or the tree spirits are just full of it. Chiron's never shared a lot of stories about children of his," he reminded with a sad smile at how uniquely troubling Percy was.

Annabeth held out her hand. "Come on, Seaweed Brain. Time for dinner."

We walked back toward the dining pavilion together, just the three of us, like old times.

Percy couldn't hold back a longing sigh. He liked all of the friends he had around him now, but he couldn't shake the feeling of who was missing too.

A storm raged that night, but it parted around Camp Half-Blood as storms usually did.

Lightning flashed against the horizon, waves pounded the shore, but not a drop fell in our valley. We were protected again, thanks to the Fleece, sealed inside our magical borders.

Still, my dreams were restless. I heard Kronos taunting me from the depths of Tartarus: Polyphemus sits blindly in his cave, young hero, believing he has won a great victory.

"Hopefully it keeps him off the dating game for the next few millennia," Percy scowled.

Are you any less deluded? The titan's cold laughter filled the darkness.

Then my dream changed. I was following Tyson to the bottom of the sea, into the court of Poseidon. It was a radiant hall filled with blue light, the floor cobbled with pearls. And there, on a throne of coral, sat my father, dressed like a simple fisherman in khaki shorts and a sunbleached T-shirt. I looked up into his tan weathered face, his deep green eyes, and he spoke two words: Brace yourself.

I woke with a start.

There was a banging on the door. Grover flew inside without waiting for permission. "Percy!" he stammered. "Annabeth ... on the hill ... she ..."

The look in his eyes told me something was terribly wrong. Annabeth had been on guard duty that night, protecting the Fleece. If something had happened—

Thalia closed her eyes for a moment, the sad smile lingering on her face so her eyes could hide the pain. She almost hadn't recognized the girl, nearly a teenager, the same kid now closer to the age Thalia had been when she'd fallen. Absolutely nothing had been the same when she'd opened her eyes again, but here she looked around with as eager a smile as everybody else. Maybe Zeus had even had some inkling of this passage of time would be her best path.

I ripped off the covers, my blood like ice water in my veins. I threw on some clothes while Grover tried to make a complete sentence, but he was too stunned, too out of breath. "She's lying there ... just lying there ..."

Percy sort of wanted to rip one of Grover's horns off for nearly giving him a heart attack, but he was to grateful his best friend had come to tell him at all rather than staying with Annabeth and rousing around the first child of the Big Three he'd found.

I ran outside and raced across the central yard, Grover right behind me. Dawn was just breaking, but the whole camp seemed to be stirring. Word was spreading. Something huge had happened. A few campers were already making their way toward the hill, satyrs and nymphs and heroes in a weird mix of armor and pajamas.

"How the best sleepovers end up," Alex nodded this made perfect sense on every blade of grass at that camp.

I heard the clop of horse hooves, and Chiron galloped up behind us, looking grim.

"Is it true?" he asked Grover.

Grover could only nod, his expression dazed.

I tried to ask what was going on, but Chiron grabbed me by the arm and effortlessly lifted me onto his back. Together we thundered up Half-Blood Hill, where a small crowd had started to gather.

I expected to see the Fleece missing from the pine tree, but it was still there, glittering in the first light of dawn. The storm had broken and the sky was bloodred.

"Curse the titan lord," Chiron said. "He's tricked us again, given himself another chance to control the prophecy."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"The Fleece," he said. "The Fleece did its work too well."

"Ooo, actual chapter title being quoted," Magnus shook his head at how all of this had worked out. The uncomfortable question of how they would ever manage to beat a Titan who was already so many steps ahead of them still sort of made him wish for his ignorance of this world back if they were all doomed.

We galloped forward, everyone moving out of our way. There at the base of the tree, a girl was lying unconscious. Another girl in Greek armor was kneeling next to her.

Blood roared in my ears. I couldn't think straight. Annabeth had been attacked? But why was the Fleece still there?

Percy was looking from Thalia to the book with a heavy sense of forbidding. 'Was Kronos right to play this card,' a nasty voice whispered in his mind. Thalia wouldn't do that to Annabeth, but then, neither should Luke. It suddenly bothered him quite a lot Oceanus had 'accidentally,' not managed to pull in his girlfriend or best friend, just a couple of strangers he got vague impressions about and kids he didn't even know. How did he know what side Oceanus was on? Could this all be some weirdly elaborate trick into trying to convince him to switch sides away from them?

The tree itself looked perfectly fine, whole and healthy, suffused with the essence of the Golden Fleece.

"It healed the tree," Chiron said, his voice ragged. "And poison was not the only thing it purged."

Then I realized Annabeth wasn't the one lying on the ground. She was the one in armor, kneeling next to the unconscious girl. When Annabeth saw us, she ran to Chiron. "It... she ... just suddenly there ..."

Her eyes were streaming with tears, but I still didn't understand. I was too freaked out to make sense of it all. I leaped off Chiron's back and ran toward the unconscious girl. Chiron said: "Percy, wait!"

I knelt by her side. She had short black hair and freckles across her nose. She was built like a long-distance runner, lithe and strong, and she wore clothes that were somewhere between punk and Goth—a black T-shirt, black tattered jeans, and a leather jacket with buttons from a bunch of bands I'd never heard of.

She wasn't a camper. I didn't recognize her from any of the cabins. And yet I had the strangest feeling I'd seen her before...

"It's true," Grover said, panting from his run up the hill. "I can't believe ..."

Nobody else came close to the girl.

I put my hand on her forehead. Her skin was cold, but my fingertips tingled as if they were burning.

"She needs nectar and ambrosia," I said. She was clearly a half-blood, whether she was a camper or not. I could sense that just from one touch. I didn't understand why everyone was acting so scared.

I took her by the shoulders and lifted her into sitting position, resting her head on my shoulder.

"Come on!" I yelled to the others. "What's wrong with you people? Let's get her to the Big House."

No one moved, not even Chiron. They were all too stunned.

Will gave a guilty wince he'd been just as stunned stupid even as he admired Percy stepping in like that. Will had never met Thalia, but her story was legendary, it could have been no other Half-Blood in their leader's arms, and the whole camp seemed to have been holding its breath at the time as they all wondered what was coming next.

Then the girl took a shaky breath. She coughed and opened her eyes.

Her irises were startlingly blue—electric blue.

Jason studied her now the same way he had himself in the mirror. It wasn't just the eyes, it was the same powerful aura Percy gave off. There was something in the air about her nobody could mistake, and yet as he started unconsciously rubbing his tattoo, all he could think was how strange his mind had to be for not ever having found her threatening like he often did Percy.

The girl stared at me in bewilderment, shivering and wild-eyed. "Who—"

"I'm Percy," I said. "You're safe now."

"Strangest dream ..."

"It's okay."

"Dying."

"No," I assured her.

Thalia shivered, just the smallest bit like a cold chill had passed over her, and Percy immediately felt like a jerk for any second guesses he might have as his first impulse was to assure her now. He could now claim same as her to wake up a stranger in a strange land and she'd been nothing but a friend to him, looking out for him the entirety of his stay here. It was no regret then, that no matter the outcome, he'd at least given her the same honor upon first meeting her.

"You're okay. What's your name?"

That's when I knew. Even before she said it.

The girl's blue eyes stared into mine, and I understood what the Golden Fleece quest had been about. The poisoning of the tree. Everything. Kronos had done it to bring another chess piece into play—another chance to control the prophecy.

Even Chiron, Annabeth, and Grover, who should've been celebrating this moment, were too shocked, thinking about what it might mean for the future. And I was holding someone who was destined to be my best friend, or possibly my worst enemy.

"Dun, dun, dun," Percy chuckled for himself.

"Don't count yourself off either of those lists yet Jackson," Thalia rolled her eyes, not understanding the strange look he gave her. Like he didn't know whether to laugh at that for the joke it was for once.

"I am Thalia," the girl said. "Daughter of Zeus."

"That would have been a lot more dramatic if you hadn't been hanging around with us the past few days," Magnus told her as he finished looking up and around.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she grinned, "next time we all get sucked into a room together, I'll hide behind the couch until my grand arrival."

"Thank you, finally, a woman with some class," Alex nodded.

Perhaps the snickering that circled the room was a little more exhaustion induced than they would have admitted, but it must have been late enough in the day for all of them nobody cared. Percy was first out the door fighting off a yawn, everybody else's conversations lulling easily to a close.

Alex and Magnus lingered around still practicing their signing to each other and Thalia and Hearth were happily adding in, watching the two in an almost paternal way.

When Nico gestured Will out and he gladly jumped to his feet, Jason watched them leave discreetly and debated if he should follow or invest more into learning ASL. Though he'd disclosed his secret, he still wanted to talk to Nico again now that he was more confident his other secret wasn't exactly being held over his head, but he still didn't find Nico the easiest person to talk to either. Not as standoffish as he was that first day, but still giving off the aura of antisocial he had no clue how Will kept bypassing. When Thalia called his name and asked how late he planned on staying up, he found himself getting easily sucked into their group without another thought.

Nico lead him up to the terrace, and Will closed the door and watched him with that same casual, laid-back attitude like there was nothing at all in the world to worry him. At least he didn't seem to be holding a grudge?

"Sorry, for um, snapping your head off before," he fidgeted guiltily in place and couldn't look at Will to long. Ugh, he was so bad at this; but he wasn't taking Will to that other camp, let alone Tartarus with him, it was too dangerous to risk anyone but a solo mission. That stupid prophecy line of Clarisse's mocked him though, and maybe he would go to Camp first, get a useless prophecy and let Jason decide if he wanted to take that risk...He couldn't explain that though and didn't know what else to say. "What do you want from me?" He demanded point blank why Will cared at all, why he'd asked and started all of this!

"Nothing!" Nico still wasn't doing this right, Will looked hurt anew at his accusatory tone as he answered. "Just, I know some people prefer to be alone, and I'm not judging, honestly! I'm sorry for pushing, I just wanted you to know you had a friend, if you wanted one."

Nico kept scrutinizing him for a few moments more with lingering guilt. There was no lie in Will's voice...but that couldn't be it? What reason did Will have for wanting to be friends now? "Well, Jason's going through some crap and I, um, guessed and offered help. It, it's up to him." He found himself suddenly hoping Jason would invite Will along to the other camp, but then, maybe he should pass the buck altogether and just let even Thalia and Will deal with Jason with clear directions and go straight to Tartarus when they got out of here. He was putting it off to much, trying to delay it, and Gaia would not wait. Her plans may already be in motion, and somebody had to stop them.

"Okay," Will said, clearly at peace with this decision left out of his hands, a baffling thing all its own. Nico was the only demigod capable of stopping the Earth Mother in Tartarus, and he'd be the only one who wasn't missed if all he could do was send a dream message for a warning to come.

They stood in awkward silence for a few moments more and Nico wished he could leave now. Will seemed to sense this, he stepped away from the door in invitation but said gently, "I know you're not looking forward to the next book. If I could pay Connor to steal it away and stop this, I would."

Nico found himself hesitating now, but all that came out was the odd comment, "you talk about Connor a lot."

Will shrugged that off like he seemed to everything. "Kind of have a crush on him, and Katie Gardner too, but they're dating each other so sorry if it comes out wrong. I'll try to stop bringing it up." Will bit his sun-chapped lips at the end and gave him a funny look he didn't know what to call.

Nico stared. He'd never imagined a guy could say something like that so casually in his life. He'd seen men displaying affection for each other on the streets during his travels, sometimes with horrible commentary from other passersby on the street, sometimes without a second glance. He had no idea which and when in this culture it would be taken, but it was strangely nice if Will could say it so off-hand, maybe he just hadn't been at camp long enough to find out. "No, um, just, I just noticed."

Will squatted, then lounged out on the crumbling balcony and now looked up at him, an oddly vulnerable position as he gestured back to the stairwell. "Nobody in there is going to judge you for what comes next Nico, we've all got our secrets."

"Not for long," he bitterly reminded. Percy may fling him out of the ocean when he found out he'd been hiding away who his dad was, Jason and those Norse kids might too. Will was just too nice to know better apparently, naïve enough to blindly trust him. He didn't know Thalia's score, maybe pity as she might understand why he wouldn't go parading the fact.

And when he finally heard in vivid detail what had really happened to Bianca, he might wish for it...

"Your sister is a hero," Will whispered gently as if reading his thoughts. "You take after her. You've done nothing wrong, Nico, by not sharing every detail of your life. Nobody held a grudge against Jason or Alex for not sharing their vulnerabilities the second they showed up in here."

"You don't know the half of it," Nico scoffed, but it came out a bit watery, and it had nothing to do with the ocean. Hades had betrayed his trust once and Percy had blamed that on him, Pan hadn't given him a second glance in his last words, Minos had tricked and manipulated him for months. Before, he'd felt the need to do something irrefutably good to maybe someday impress Percy, but even that notion was withering away. He didn't know why he still didn't tell Will about Gaea's rising, maybe because he was afraid the Son of Apollo would try to talk him out of it.

"And I won't if you don't want me to," Will shrugged while Nico did a double take.

"How?" Now studying the blonde and waiting for the trick.

"Oceanus isn't sitting on top of us making us all be there, it just seems a common courtesy," he reminded with a wave of his hand. "I don't even think I was supposed to be brought here, probably an accident like those Norse kids. If you want one person Nico, who doesn't know every single thing you've done printed out and still trusts you, I'll leave the room whenever you ask, no questions."

Something so warm and unfamiliar flooded through Nico, he decided he should sit down too as light-headed as he was. "Thank you," he murmured, his hands felt oddly heavy in his lap, a weight settling on his back that had nothing to do with the responsibility he felt hearing the whispers of the dead and coming horrors, it was a different kind. The pressure seemed less in fact, like he'd only just now noticed it lighten now it was gone.

There were no lights in the gloom below, no passage of time to speak of. They sat together in silence for an untold time until they both mutually got up at once and went off to beds.

PJOPJOPJOPJO

Here I am, being a liar by once again ending dramatically on Nico and Will. I swear I don't try to play favorites on purpose. I'm sure you're all so disappointed.

I'll start the next book around early June, see you all then!

#PJO #Percy Jackson #Thalia Grace #Jason Grace #Hearthstone #Alex Fierro #Magnus Chase #Nico di Angelo #Will Solace #children of the big three #percabeth #fierrochase #solangelo #fanfiction #reading the books #HDYSG #SoM

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writing-to-nobody · 1 year

Text

Indecision

Rouge meets Azel’s brother, Cain, and Azel faces a dilemma.

Continuation of Office Date. Rouge belongs to the lovely @littlemoondarlingarts

Rating: G

Words: 2,004

Somehow, Rouge had let himself be roped into another dull day in the office. He sighed, looking down at the sketch he was working on and wondering how demons could stand such a dreary existence. He'd long-since given up on focusing with the deafening silence in the office. He didn't even have Azel there to keep him company, as the demon had vanished nearly a half hour prior, claiming he had to make an urgent call.

Rouge gazed out the window and scratched out a few more details of the cityscape. He wished he'd brought his paints so that he could capture the brilliant red of the mid-morning sky. Unfortunately, when he'd left the castle that morning, he'd tricked himself into thinking he'd be able to get a bit more work done. He frowned. Dracula would be displeased. Perhaps he should have refused Azel's offer, but he'd been so keen on spending time with him, he'd forgotten how dull this sitting around could be.

Just as he was contemplating tracking him down and asking to be taken home, or at the very least directed to the nearest opera house, he heard the doors open. He turned in Azel's chair, looking eagerly toward the hall, only to deflate somewhat when he saw an unfamiliar demon standing there instead of the one he'd expected.

"Whoa. You"—the demon pointed at him with both hands—"are not Azel."

Rouge sighed heavily. "So I've been told, repeatedly." He gave the demon a dull once-over. This one was ambiguous in gender, with dark hair and curved horns somewhat resembling that of a ram. He tried to remember if he'd seen them before. Perhaps among the indistinguishable masses of Azel's employees?

The demon cocked their head to the side. "Are you even a Scarlet?"

Rouge had learned enough from Azel to know that 'Scarlet,' in this context, referred to the group of demons the emperor ruled over through distinctly un-democratic means (much to his disapproval). "Er, no," he said.

"Uh…really weird Mauveine?" the demon guessed, drawing closer.

Rouge scooted his chair back toward the window, unsure of this demon's intentions. Azel had warned him that he had enemies, and demons were easily comparable in speed and strength to vampires. It wasn't out of the question that this stranger might mean to harm him, and he was out of his element in this unfamiliar realm. "Who are you?" he demanded.

For a moment, the stranger seemed surprised. Then, they took a step back and gave an extremely theatrical bow, so low that their long hair nearly brushed the floor. "Cain Desrosiers, at your service," they said, and straightened up just enough to wink at Rouge.

"You're Azel's brother," Rouge realized.

Cain popped back into an upright position, grinning. "That depends on who's asking and what they said about me. Anyway, who are you?" They danced forward, resting their elbows on the edge of Azel's desk. "You look way too cool to be hanging out with my brother, but this is his office."

Rouge wondered if he should say something in Azel's defense. He wasn't sure if Azel would return the favor if the tables were turned, though. "I am…a guest of your brother's," he said, remembering how Azel had described him to his office administrator, who often popped in at the most inconvenient times, keeping Azel frustratingly on task. "Although, seeing as I have been waiting for him to return for over thirty minutes, I'm beginning to question his hospitality."

Cain winced. "Oof. Yeah. Do you want my advice?"

"Not particularly."

Cain hopped up on the edge of the desk, swinging their legs. "Well, too bad. I feel like I've gotta warn you: unless you're some kind of important foreign dignitary, Azel's just not gonna have time for you. Sucks, I know, but that's my brother for you." They grinned over their shoulder at Rouge. "Now, if you want some proper company—"

Abruptly, there came a shout from the doorway. "Cain! Just what do you think you're doing?"

With a startled shout, Cain all but leaped off the desk, the fur on his tail spiking up in shock.

Azel was standing in the hall just outside the office, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed to dark, furious slits.

Cain audibly gulped. "Oh! Azel, there you are. I was just, uh—"

Azel didn't say a word, just pointed, glowering, at the hall.

Grin fading, Cain slunk toward the doors. "I was just—"

"Out," Azel growled.

Cain turned the corner and vanished into the hallway, Azel glaring after him until he was, presumably, out of sight.

Then, Azel stepped into the office, all but slamming the doors shut behind him. His tail was lashing, his ears pinned back in obvious annoyance. "If I have told that miscreant once, I've told him a thousand times—"

He took a deep breath and held it for several seconds, hands clenched tightly at his sides until, on the exhale, his stiff posture relaxed slightly. He turned to Rouge, the well-worn lines between his brows furrowed in an all-too familiar frown. "I apologize. I didn't intend to be away for so long, and I certainly didn't intend to provide my delinquent brother with an opportunity to harass you. Are you all right?"

Rouge felt a fluttering in his stomach. Azel was worried? About him? "Oh, well," he tittered, "quite all right, now that you've returned."

Was it just wishful thinking, or did Azel look relieved to hear that? Either way, he nodded. "Good. With any luck, that will be the last call I have to attend to today." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, in a gesture Rouge was rapidly beginning to recognize as an indicator that he was more stressed than he was letting on.

He rose for Azel's chair. "Why don't you sit, mon cheri? You look tired. I hope that call wasn't too troubling?"

Azel eyed the chair doubtfully, as if, in sitting down for even a moment, he might resign himself to laziness. Rouge made a mental note to talk him into a few more spa days. The effects of the first had clearly worn off.

With great reluctance and a quiet groan, Azel lowered himself into the chair. "No," he said. Then: "Well…"

"Well?" Rouge echoed, placing his hands on Azel's shoulders. He was as tense as ever, and only relaxed slightly at Rouge's attention.

"It was Skye Delacroix on the phone," Azel reluctantly confessed.

Rouge couldn't honestly say the name sounded familiar. "Oh?"

Azel winced as Rouge pressed down on a particularly stubborn knot on his back.

"Apologies, mon amour, but you are so tense," he murmured disapprovingly. "How did you manage this in just a few days' time?"

"It—ah—comes with the job, I suppose." Azel grimaced. "With the position, really. You see, Skye and I…well…I suppose you could say we were…intended for each other."

Rouge's only real surprise upon hearing this was that Azel hadn't brought it up sooner. He wasn't unaware of the pressures that positions such as Azel's brought with them. "You were," he emphasized carefully, "does that mean you are no longer bound, in such a way?"

Azel's gaze darted to the floor. "Well," he said, "not exactly." He leaned back in his chair a bit, folding his hands in his lap. "There's a bit of a complicated history between our circles, you see. There has been for some time, even before the war, but of course, that certainly didn't help matters…" He shook his head, as if he'd digressed too far in mentioning the conflict. "In any case, we've maintained a tentative alliance for the past few hundred years. This…engagement between Skye and I was more of a formality than anything, until—"

He sighed, leaning into Rouge's touch. "Well, with the tension with Fulvous and the rebellion brewing in Aureolin, the Rubine empire has been looking to ensure that we are allied, once and for all."

"And they intend to secure this alliance by forcing you to marry?" Rouge scoffed. "They can't be serious."

Azel's omnipresent frown deepened. "I'm afraid they're quite serious, and Skye…well, I don't know if she's enamored with me, or with the idea of having me, but…" His voice fell to a mumble. "I don't even like her." His shoulders bunched up, and it was really no wonder that he was tense if this was how he sat most of the time. "Um. Please, don't tell anyone I said that. I'm usually not so rude."

Rouge gave up on the massage. It was impossible while Azel was working himself up like this. He eyed the lesser-quality chair beside Azel's and decided to just stand. Of course, in his current mood, standing turned quite quickly to pacing. "I think you've every right to be rude about the prospect of being made to marry someone you don't love. I think it's absolutely ridiculous that you've even considering it. Just think about it for a moment: you'll be stuck with this woman for the rest of eternity, and suppose you have children—"

"Children?" Azel's eyes went wide with horror, as if he'd just now considered the possibility.

"Well, it's not out of the question that your new 'ally' would require it, is it? Then, if you ever even think about leaving…" He trailed off, thinking of his own two children. When his former wife had found out about the relationships he'd taken solace in throughout their loveless marriage, she had wanted to take his son away. He hadn't allowed it, of course, but the fact that it had been a possibility was horrible enough. Then there was his dear little Fran…he used to see him every week, but now they were restrained to video calls. Of course, that had nothing to do with his breakup with his former lover, Theodore, and everything to do with the presence of an old friend who hadn't yet learned to behave around others. He was just glad Azel hadn't met him yet.

"Well, she might try to keep your children from you. It could even start a greater conflict than if you'd simply refused to marry her from the start."

"I-I suppose I hadn't considered that," Azel said, obviously shaken. He leaned forward on his desk, bowing his head. "But what am I to do?"

Rouge hated seeing him like this. "You could simply…leave?" he suggested hopefully. "Come back to my realm. I'll find a place for you. If not in my own castle, then—"

"No," Azel said sharply.

Rouge flinched.

"I-I mean. Oh, I'm sorry…" Azel shut his eyes tightly, his expression pained. "I didn't mean to shout; it's just that this empire is my responsibility. These people are my people, and I cannot—will not abandon them to the whims of rebels and warmongers."

Rouge was torn. Even though his relationship with Azel was new and ill-defined, he did care for the man, and it pained him to see him this way. At the same time, he was loath to hang around and watched him destroy himself. "So…what will you do?" he asked hesitantly.

Azel shook his head, a small, defeated motion. "I don't know," he said quietly. "It just seems so…if my father were alive, what would he have said, to hear that I'm even considering refusing? The last thing Scarlet needs is to be at war with three circles. Though, perhaps the threat of Fulvous will be sufficient to—augh." He clutched his head in his hands.

Rouge hesitantly approached him. "Perhaps you should take a break. Some time to think on it could do you good."

He half-expected Azel to refuse. After all, he had a reputation of stubborn efficiency to uphold, but the fight seemed to have gone out of him for the time being. He gave a weary nod. "Perhaps," he agreed. He raised his head just so to look up at Rouge, and he looked desperately tired.

Rouge rested a hand on his back. "To the castle, then?"

Azel nodded.

#Azel #Cain #Rouge Rouge #love tagging that btw #for the record: Cain is still quite young in this one #and has not yet learned discretion in his flirting #if Rouge met modern Cain it would go very differently but I thought this worked fine for this story #Let Cain still be Azel's screw-up little sibling #Story #stories

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truckreincarnation · 8 months

Text

head empty thoughts un(vee)fined | Vee | Trial 2.2 | Attn: Nao

The pounding on their head is growing stronger by the minute as others continue to contribute their two cents' worth to the discussion. For a moment, it seems like they're getting close to a conclusion, but ambiguity keeps the group undecided on what might have actually occurred. And unlike what happened with Vivianna two weeks ago, he doubts the guilty party will be quite as keen to fess up, knowing what would follow in their wake, to their wake.

Vee wishes they were simultaneously more and less intelligent. A more intelligent person would have already solved the case and found the culprit, and a less intelligent one would not bemoan their inability to as badly as they were. They're running on fumes as it were, the crushing weight of Perry's demise continuing to hang over their shoulders, inescapable until justice was found for her. He doesn't want to think about the alternative result.

"Those j-jewels serve no p-practical purpose for healin'." They'll at least affirm. "I'm... n-not actually sure if t-they were part of t-the craftin' room to begin w-with... They should b-be, but if any of y-you have seen Manami's new d-dragonstaff, that has r-rubies inlaid into its tip. C-Could they have come from somethin' l-like that or...?"

It's not clicking together in their mind, the uncertain state it's in proving to be a hindrance to their train of thought. There has to be something they're missing. "Just to... t-thin the field d-down to who realistically c-could have been responsible for t-this, per Germain's inquiry." He mumbles, trying not to let his quavering voice freeze up on him. "Assumin' n-no two people are c-coverin' for each other, the p-pairs of Germain and Luz, Esmée and Y-Yuliya, Harriet and Avery, and M-Meili and Theophania a-are all accounted for."

Half the pool, gone. "I have n-no reason to think Shinjuku w-would do this, not considerin' many of us c-can vouch for him lookin' a-around for Pears. Similarly, it's u-unlikely Manami could have g-given her blindness - she would not have b-been able to see b-blood trails, and I can't i-imagine she wouldn't have left f-footprints stumblin' around if she was on t-the second floor. I'm..." Would it be too selfish to say it? Perhaps not, given the circumstances. "Eliminating myself as w-well. I hope I don't h-have to explain w-why."

They glance over to Nao and Bian. "The t-two of them were seen o-on the first floor, and while I s'pose t-there's also no one w-who can vouch for them individually across o-our timeline, there's little p-pointin' in their direction that w-would suggest either of t-them knew Pears was dyin' u-upstairs to go there. Though Bian could h-have seen the note, it s-seemed untouched where it w-was found on the library's f-first floor." They turn to Frank. "Which leaves F-Frank. But I don't... know h-how tenuous his alibi is either, e-especially since with the l-level of bleedin' that Perry experienced, I'm not s-sure how... Maybe with o-one of her skills?"

It really is going nowhere fast. "I just... C-Can I ask for you a-all to empty your p-pockets, maybe? It's a l-long shot but... there's somethin' I w-want to check based on w-what you're holdin' with y-you, since the r-rooms were not opened for o-our checkin' use." They ask absently, trying to ignore the scream of pain bubbling underneath the bridge of their nose. "And... While I k-know you've been wearin' that g-glove for some time, even before y-yesterday's events, Nao... Could I a-ask if you remove it f-for a quick check? And the o-other two to roll up your sleeves t-too. If the Shatterstone was d-detonated from afar, we'd find n-nothin' anyways, but... seein' nothin' w-would also be confirmation of t-that, I guess..."

#Vee #ch2 #trial2 #submission

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greenlodgecypher · 9 months

Text

Crying Diamonds, 2/6

Part 1

"Mother knew what it was, of course. The gems were real. The thing was set in platinum, for Pete's sake! He pretended surprise, and she could tell that something was wrong. She thought that he had stolen it from his uncle, and started asking questions. In ten minutes, she had the whole story. It wasn't just 'nasty gaudy'; it was nastily haunted.

"A phone call to the uncle confirmed it. We'll call him G. G didn't want to see the thing again; said it was un-Christian; said the nephew was doing him a favor. He didn't care what Mother could get for it, as long as it went. Given that Mother and I have earned something of a reputation for dealing with such artifacts cheerfully, I suppose it was only natural to come to us. "She walked the customer through the proper process, of course. Appraisal, insurance. Took photos and measurements. She said she'd quote him on it. He didn't want to wait, though, and it was only with much reluctance that he agreed to take it home with him. She asked if it could really be that bad. "Oh, you'll see," he said. "Well, she quoted him, and he brought it back. The price was cleared with the uncle; it wasn't enough, really. The thing would have gone for more at auction. But they must sell, and sell they did. And after the first night it was kept in the safe, Mother knew what he'd meant about seeing. "She had stayed longer than usual, working on some things to make up for her conscience about how much she'd paid for the necklace. Usually she doesn't make such purchases lightly, but it was a steal and she knew it. The clock got on to seven, and since it was the dead of winter, it was well after dark. "Around then, the howling started. It was horrific; like a scream, but nothing like a person could make." "Not a fox or a rabbit?" Sayers asked. "Mother said no. We have them out here, of course, and sometimes you'll find a legend or two about a big cat; but Mother knows what a screaming rabbit sounds like. No; she said it was more like a sustained roar. It did sound like a scream; but it was wrong. Too hollow. Too even. "And then there were more of them. Mother sat frozen there, listening to the sounds move around. They were outside, she thought; but she couldn't see anything. No footsteps, nobody crossing between the lights outside and her window. She was almost too afraid to look, but she did very well, I think. She always tells me she doesn't have the nerve for creepy things, like I do." "Did she call the police?" Eliot asked. "That was the first thing she did," I said. "It was the right thing to do, of course, at least when one has to consider a human agency as opposed to a paranormal one. And, as you might suspect; by the time they arrived, the howling had gone. They didn't find a thing. The ground was frozen, without any snow on it. No way to tell what might've been about. "So it was my job, after all. 'You'll see', the nephew said, and I indended to. I had great plans for this object, if it could further my research. I didn't have the advantage of Patrick's company this time—he does have a home life, you know—but I thought I could handle an investigation on my home ground. I probably should have had someone else afoot, but then that's the benefit of hindsight.

Part 3

#the green lodge cypher #tglc aug 97

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s-o-a-p-ing · 1 year

Text

ACTS S.O.A.P. ~ CHAPTER 23

Thursday, 1/12/23

SCRIPTURE:

Gazing intently at the high council, Paul began: “Brothers, I have always lived before God with a clear conscience!” ~ Acts of the Apostles 23:1

OBSERVATION:

Can I say that? That I have always lived before God with a clear conscience?

Not until Jesus any way... though I should be able to because of His grace and my salvation through Him...

It must be the enemy guilt-tripping me into having a guilty conscience - into regret and unnecessary remorse and shame...

...and my own un-confessed - un-repented - sin...

APPLICATION:

Don't live un-confessed...

Live in the clear conscience given by and through Jesus...

PRAYER:

Forgiving Father God - forgive my failure to confess everything I think I can get away with... May Your Holy Spirit continue to move me to repentance as well as lip-service admissions to disobedience... Thank You for Your Son Jesus Who makes it possible for me to stand before You with a clear conscience... In His Name, and for Your glory and honor and pleasure...

====||====

In my e-mail this morning was the "Hope Heals" newsletter - Katherine and Jay Wolf's organization around their story - I first heard them at the first Passion Conference in the Benz in Atlanta...

...so often we confuse things that should be practiced with things that should be believed.

I once lived as if hope was orthodoxy—a tenet in which I was a passive party. But then I survived a stroke, which stranded me in the wilderness of an intensive care unit and neuro rehab facility, neither of which inspired even a thin optimism, much less a steady, sustaining hope.

Hope, I learned, is not an abstraction to be believed. Hope is a habit....

So I began practicing hope. I named the God I knew—the God of love, wholeness, and second chances—so I could remember what to expect from him. Like a liturgy, I recited his faithfulness in the past so I could anticipate his future provision. Again and again, I affirmed what I knew to be true, even when I didn’t feel it to be true: God brings beauty from ashes and turns mourning to dancing. I didn’t know when resurrection would finally happen, but I hoped and hoped and hoped.

Yours in Him - in hope and thanksgiving...

<))><

#Acts #Acts 23 #Clear conscience #Hope

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britishassistant · 3 years

Note

When Villain!Yuu manages to return to their dimension and finds out their minions did, it’s one of the few times that the Supervisor has lived up to their title as heir. The next day the head of the minions of the attempted murder squad was found battered, covered in bird poo, and tied in front of RSA. If Crowley asks, Yuu makes the excuse that they are simply following one of the rules of villainy. If a minion steps out of line, don’t correct, make an example out of them.

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

Warning for dark under the cut.

There are three items on the desk.

One is a cellphone. It’s a compact, black brick of a thing, the sort that could survive a drop from a window a story up. Its screen is currently dark and silent. It has not buzzed or vibrated, or given any indication that it’s even on.

The second is a glass of clear liquid. The glass looks pretty standard, no fancy plane designs or rectangular shapes. Just a squat round cup with a round lip and clear liquid an inch or so from the top. There are small bubbles forming in the bottom, the longer it remains undisturbed. It doesn’t seem like those are the results of carbonation, or some other nefarious properties.

No. If anything, the cup is there for the third object on the table.

A pair of two pills are sitting innocently by the cup’s side. One is larger, pale pink, and lozenge shaped. The other is smaller, a capsule that’s colored dark green and blue.

The minion swallows. The phlegm feels like it’s lodged in his throat.

There’s a sigh from the other side of the table.

The Supervisor leans forward. The supervillain’s features are slightly drawn, like they’re preparing to undertake an unpleasant chore.

The minion has the insane urge to giggle at the sight.

“So…” The Supervisor splays their hands. “Unfortunately, following reviews of your recent performance, we have found that you are…not a good fit for this business. It’s been determined that it’s in everyone’s best interests for you to be terminated from your current position effective immediately.”

The minion—or rather, ex-minion—gives a shaky nod.

The Supervisor tilts the brim of their top hat up, so they can better make eye contact with him. “You have two choices for your…ah, severance package.”

One hand gestures to the glass and pills. “Option one: you take these. The pink one is a sedative, and it’s up to you whether you take it before or after the other. It’s pretty fast acting, so it shouldn’t matter so much either way. All you’ll know is just falling asleep.”

The other gestures to the phone. “Option two: I make a call to Dr. Crewel. You’ll be transferred to his department. But in the, ah…volunteer capacity. Instead of the minion one. Do you have any questions?”

There’s a moment of stunned silence.

“W-what?” The ex-minion stutters. “B-but…I, I don’t understand?”

“What don’t you understand?” The Supervisor asks, patience in every line of their posture. Like they were an adult helping to explain something complicated to a small child.

This, in spite of the fact that the ex-minon was a decade the supervillain’s senior.

That helps the ex-minion order his thoughts somewhat. “I-I thought the rules for g-getting fired were that the min-minion in question would be turned over to the police for arrest. Or to the local sup-superheroes.”

The Supervisor nods. “That is what happens in most cases, yes. However, in those cases, the termination is contingent more on minion incompetence or betrayal. You and your…friends, regrettably, fall outside that purview.”

The ex-minion’s mouth moves soundlessly. “But…I don’t understand. Isn’t this for betrayal? That I betrayed you?”

The Supervisor’s mouth tightens, even as the rest of their face remains impassive. “That…is another crime you committed, and one that was taken into account when making this decision. But it is far from the main motivating factor behind all this.”

The ex-minion wracks his brain. “But, what…?”

“You attempted to murder a child.” The supervillain exhales, some dark, wounded emotion entering their eyes for the first time. “Another version of myself, true, but an injured, defenseless child. One who had never done anything to you, or anyone else in this world. Who had no involvement in whatever quarrel you have with me. Who nearly bled to death on my roof due to the injuries sustained as a direct result of your attempted murder.”

The Supervisor shakes their head. “And that would be bad enough, especially as I was under the impression that they would at least be cared for in my absence. Except this? This was not an isolated incident, was it? Looking over the behavior of the perpetrators, it’s become clear this is only the culmination of a dangerous trend I should’ve seen and put a stop to ages ago.”

The ex-minion doesn’t think he can breathe.

“The first endangerment of Miss Elena Blackwood back at the bank. The repeated suggestions of attacking elementary, middle or high schools or public playgrounds to divert heroic attention during heists or schemes. The inclination to ignore my orders when I specified that children were to be released immediately if caught up in a hostage situation we organized. The attempted hostage taking of Mr. Cheka Kingscholar while he was my guest.”

The ex-minion tries swallowing again. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “I thought you didn’t know about that.”

He winces at the mindless admission.

The Supervisor’s eyes narrow at him, and fury rolls off them in almost visible waves. There is no doubting the Night Raven’s genetics were used to make them like this.

“I have my ways.”

The ex-minion quails under their glare.

The Supervisor sighs, scrubbing a hand over their eyes. “Do you understand now? You are not being fired for betrayal. You and your cohorts are being terminated for repeated and willful perpetuation of un-villainous crimes of one of the highest orders, in accordance with League Statute A55. So, what’ll it be?”

“Sh-shouldn’t there be a hear-hearing, or, or an appeal, or something?!” The ex-minion begs desperately.

“If you wanted forgiveness, you should have applied to the Royal Sword Association.” The Supervisor rattles off blandly. “We here at Night Raven Corporation specialize in putting the super back into supervillainy.”

The ex-minion slumps. “…I always hated that slogan.”

The Supervisor pulls a commiserating face. “Not some of Dad’s best work, I’ll admit.”

He stares at the pills and at the phone.

“…Which did Miette pick?”

The supervillain pointedly glances towards the glass and its companions.

He snorts. “Naturally. She’d rather be dead rather than be something monstrous like you.”

The Supervisor inclines their head but doesn’t deny his words.

He considers it some more. “…Would I still receive a paycheck? As a volunteer?”

The Supervisor shrugs. “One that’s considerably reduced from what you currently earn, but yes. You would be compensated for your services. And your current life insurance will still be maintained and paid out to those you specify in the event of an accident under Dr. Crewel’s care. Or, indeed, if you take the other option.”

Like he has anyone he wants that money to go to.

His eyes dart between them.

The choice is easy in the end. Miette can call him a coward all she wants beyond the grave, but he’s not letting this thing be the last sight he sees.

“Make the call.”

The supervillain nods, and picks up the phone.

It’s screen lights up as they lift it towards their ear, pressing a button. “Dr. Crewel? Mr. Aston Michaels has expressed his consent to be transferred to the volunteer department. When can we expect pickup? Five minutes? Yes. Yes, this is the last one. Well, thank you for your help. Have a nice day.”

They hang up, and set the phone back down on the table.

Something flickers across their face— distaste? Weariness? Regret? Whatever it is, he hopes it haunts this thing’s nightmares for the rest of its miserable existence. It’s the least it deserves.

The two of them sit there in silence. Then there’s a knocking behind him, and light spills over him as the door is opened.

A pair of minions in impeccable suits step through, nodding to the supervillain, who nods back. Each one of them takes one of his arms and gently pulls him up from his seat.

“I’d say you’re going to be dammed to Hell for this.” He says, almost cheerfully, before they can turn him away. “But I’m pretty sure you need a soul to go down there, and things like you don’t have those.”

There’s a subtle intake of breath from the suited minions on either side of him. He ignores them, his glare fixated on his now ex-boss.

The Supervisor smiles grimly back at him. For some reason, that kind of pisses him off.

“Oh, believe me, Mr. Michaels. I know.”

#ask #tw: suicide mention #tw: human experimentation #twisted wonderland #twst #harrassed villain yuu au #supervillain au #twisted wonderland yuu #twst yuu #the supervisor #villainous paranoiac yuu #divus crewel #dire crowley #why is all my dark stuff for this au #like seriously #office jargon covering up terms of endangerment #yuu goes and gets very drunk with ace and deuce after this

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hood-ex · 3 years

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I was wanting to ask that for a really long time and the prev anon already opened this trend so, what's your opinion on the YJ Robin(the cartoon) and the Lego Batman Robin(from the 2017 movie)

Tbh, one of the best things about YJ Robin was his laugh. I have a hc that Dick has a hyena laugh, and YJ Robin definitely had a creepy cackle that's not necessarily on the same track as a hyena laugh, but was still, like, an unusual laugh.

One thing people really liked about YJ Robin was his wordplay. Asterous. Heavy on the dis. Yada yada. But his iconic, "why isn't anyone ever just whelmed?" quote was essentially the same quote from the movie 10 Things I Hate About You. So boooo on not being all that original.

I think they totally should have given Cass the wordplay thing since that's something I've seen her do in the comics. Obviously, Cass wasn't in that season and the writers wouldn't have even thought of bringing her in back then, but looking back on it, I wish she had that quirk instead. I just think it would have been more fun to see Cass questioning words and being like fuck these prefixes/suffixes.

Anywho. My favorite YJ episode was the one where the Red Tornado "siblings" captured the team and were torturing/killing them. Dick's character was so nicely balanced in it. He was playful and had some jokes as shown when he started doing the whole spelling bee thing with Artemis.

Dick: "C O O L. Did she W I N?"

Artemis: "N O."

Dick: "D R A G."

Also, stuff like this:

Artemis: "So now what?! Red Tornado is one of the powerhouses of the League! How are we supposed to take down two of him?!"

Dick: "They do seem pretty user-unfriendly."

What can I say? The kid had jokes, and I was pretty fond of them. But to balance the jokes, he also had skills. Like when the building got flooded, he whipped out his respirator (ahem... something Dick should've done with his rebreather in the animated Batman: Hush movie during the graveyard scene...). And he took care of his teammate by passing his respirator off to Artemis. When a Red Tornado came after them, Dick used the items available to him (one of Artemis's arrows) as a weapon, and he successfully got him and Artemis out of the water.

"Well get traught or get dead."

Like ayyye Dick knew how to handle high-pressure situations because, as he said in this episode, "I've been doing this since I was nine."

Then we got some more of Dick's skills with him trying to create an EMP, and he also had some kinda plan about pretending to drown, but then he passed out asldkja.

SO. I like that YJ Robin could take the lead, keep a level head, give out orders, make gadgets, use resources available to him, and also hack when he had to.

One thing about YJ Robin that was brought up was the fact that he kept going off on his own because he was used to working with Batman. This was interesting to me because there's something kinda funny about Bruce and Dick being so in sync with each other that they forget other people outside of their bubble can't anticipate their needs.

It was definitely meant to be a character development thing for Dick which clearly came to fruition via him becoming the leader as Nightwing. Because of this, I'm not super bothered by Kaldur being the leader instead of Dick in S1. Now do I normally like Dick as the leader? Yeah. But he was only 13 in YJ so I'm not too upset about someone older like Kaldur taking the lead while Dick observed the best way to lead/work with others.

Tbh, it's been so long since I've watched YJ S1 that I honestly don't remember if there were other things I really liked or found irritating about Dick's characterization in it. So, yeah, that's all I got.

As for The Lego Batman Movie (TLBM) Robin... well. Listen. I fuckin love TLBM! I thought it was hilarious and I've even got it on DVD. The attempt at Bruce/Babs was obviously No Thanks but everything else... ha.

TLBM Robin had Dick's name, some acrobatics, and a bit of his backstory, but other than that, there wasn't a whole lot that made him super distinguishable as Dick Grayson. I think I once saw someone compare him to an exaggerated Burt Ward Robin. I guess that seems most fitting. It's hard to really discuss since both Dick and Bruce were played up a lot for comedic effect.

Even though TLBM Robin wasn't the most Dick Grayson to ever Dick Grayson, I still found Robin in that movie to be super enjoyable. The whole universe was something fun that I didn't even care to compare to the comics.

#Dick Grayson #Young Justice #The Lego Batman Movie #anon

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deiitaelric · 3 years

Text

split up - part 4

PART 3 HERE

The young adult had more experience in cooking due to his age, so he checked the ingredients and decided on a dish himself. He started to work right immediately and kept Izuku working by his side to make sure he didn't leave a finger in the process. He started to command the other few students who went to help too, seventeen years old Katsuki included, who just wouldn’t stop complaining about being given orders. When dinner was ready, all class 3-A - plus added ones - had dinner together in small groups, the students still asking occasionally questions to their guests.

Once he had his stomach full of delicious food, the kid reclined his exhausted body on Izuku. The greenette smiled tenderly and asked if he could pick him up, receiving a simple nod. Mini Kacchan made himself comfortable between his arms, resting his blonde head over Izuku’s shoulder. He started to fall asleep immediately even though Izuku was moving around picking up the table.

“So Bakugou-kun was this quiet, huh?” Uraraka let his eyes draw the kid factions.

“No really. I think he’s just exhausted. He had a tough day” Izuku rested his hips towards the counter, the duty finished.

“He kept looking at you all the time he was talking to us, like checking you were still there” She raised a hand and pocked one soft and round baby cheek, causing the kid to frown in his dreams.

“I’m the only one he knows here. I didn’t change that much so he recognized me at first sight”

“There are the others” The girl pointed toward the young adult and the two teens who were negotiating - or arguing about - something in a corner of the room.

“You know Kacchan, right?” Inquired Izuku, smiling with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, you’re right” She chuckled. “It’s cute seeing him being this openly affectionate with you, it’s unexpected but… right, you know? ”

“I know what you’re thinking” He dedicated a sad smile to the other three. “But Kacchan and I had these two past. The ‘friends’ past,” he caressed the kid’s hair making mini Kacchan to hug him tighter; “and the ‘no friends’ past” Izuku diverted his eyes back to the others, where the younger seemed to be losing his patience. Uraraka placed a comforting hand on Izuku's back and he smiled at her. “It’s okay. Is the past. We are good now and it seems like it would be even better”

She opened his mouth to say something but her eyes left him to look up right behind him. Izuku was about to turn when he felt a warm hand on the top of his head.

“Hey. Let me have him”

Izuku turned, which caused the warm hand to tousle his curls, his bangs entering in one eye. He looked up with the other eye, smiling even if he wouldn’t want to.

“Kacchan! I’m fine”

“Come on, you’ve been carrying him around for a while” The young adult tousled even more his curls but brushed the bangs away from his eye before grabbing the kid.

“Kacchan, you don’t have to, I can-”

“I know you’re strong enough to carry him, I just wanna help” The blonde settled the child on his chest and it moved something deep inside Izuku. It kinda suited him.

“Oh, well, then. Thank you, Kacchan” Izuku turned back and found Uraraka was gone. “Huh?”

“Should I put him on the couch? I think it’s late enough for him to sleep”

Izuku put his thumb between his lips, thinking about it. “He said he wanted to sleep with me so probably I should take him to my room. He said it himself so probably he’ll gone mad if I don’t take him with me”

“Yeah, he’s definitely gonna be mad if he wakes up in another place”

“I’ll take him to my room, then” Izuku made a move to grab the kid back but the young adult didn’t allow him to do so. “A-are you gonna carry him to my room?”

“This way, right?” Was all the blonde said before starting marching towards the elevator. Izuku left the room with a red glare following his flustered steps.

Izuku brushed the blonde hair away from the little face and covered him with the cover. He looked peaceful and Izuku kept looking at him until his company made a little noise. Turning, he found Older Kacchan looking at an All Might’ figurine. He smirked when his eyes met.

“You have one of these of Dynamight, you know?” Izuku held back a laugh. “Why are you laughing? I’m telling the truth” The blonde kept smirking, leaving the figurine right in place again.

“I know”

“You’re not even a little surprised” He raised an eyebrow, not losing the smirk.

“Of course I’ll have Kacchan’s merch. I simp for the best”

“Oh? So you simp for me?” The young adult took a step, thinking it would derive one step back from Izuku. He smiled wider when it didn’t happen.

“I think you know already I’m a little bit of a fanboy”

“I still don’t get when you’ll gonna just broke under me or be full of this stubborn confidence”

“Broke un-under… Wh-what?” Izuku blushed hard, embarrassed for his own assumptions. “I-I think you should g-go to bed too, it’s getting late” The flustered boy opened the door only to find another blonde there. “Wha-chan!?”

“Fine! I’ll sleep at somebody else's” Katsuki proposed. Fuck Aizawa and his lazyness. How could two teens, a man and a little boy sleep in the same room with only one fucking bed? The kid had found himself a room to stay - fucking Deku’s -, but there were still three of them. He’ll do the same as the kid and the other two could kill each other if they wanted.

“Are you leaving me the trouble?” The young adult pointed at the teen with his head. Said teen started trembling out of annoyance.

“Go you to sleep in somebody else’s room instead of me, then, like I fucking care”

“I’m sleeping in the fucking couch” Teen said, patience lost long ago.

“It’s all clear, then” Adult Katsuki concluded, leaving without another word. Original Katsuki found himself sighing. He would have to find himself a roommate for the night, and some spare blankets and so for his teen version. Heading towards the door, he could see how his oldest self was carrying the kid, dragging a flustered Deku behind.

When all the work was done, Katsuki cursed himself as he walked right towards Deku’s room. What was he doing, anyway? He didn’t know, and he really didn't expect what he found: a very red freckled face opening the door he was just about to knock.

“Wha-chan!?”

The nervousness of the greenette, seeing the twentyish blonde inside his room, twisted something deep down his chest. He just frowned deeply and pointed with an angry hand to his older self.

“You. Get out”

The young adult did so, but not without stopping one second to make sure Izuku knew he could count on him for anything and tousled his hair one more time. Then he started walking away, not looking back.

Katsuki stood there, thunderstruck, until Izuku’s eyes met his’.

“Is there... Anything you want?”

Katsuki just blurted the first thing he could think.

“You better take good care of the brat”

“Of course, Kacchan”

They shared a silence and Izuku moved his feet a little uncomfortable.

“Was he-?” Katsuki started, making Izuku frown.

“Kacchan, he’s nice, okay? Did you not see how he said goodbye?”

“That’s why, I didn’t- Nevermind. I just don’t like him”

“Huh? How can you not-?”

“He acts like he knows everything, like he knows me better, like he knows you better... I don’t like it”

“He’s you but with a few more years, it’s normal he knows you better than you do now. And who would know me better than Kacchan?” Izuku shrugged, smiling at him.

“He’s not the only one who’s pissing me off, anyway. I can’t wait for them all to fucking leave”

“I guess it’s really weird having this other ‘you’ around, but it’ll only last a few days. And the kid is pretty nostalgic”

“Whatever” Katsuki rolled his eyes and shoved his hands inside his pockets.

“Do you wanna check on him? He’s sleeping in bed” Izuku moved over to let Katsuki take a look inside the room.

“It’s fine. Are you still up for practice tomorrow?”

“Of course”

“You would have to bring the brat, tho”

“I think he would like the idea, he told me he wanted to see how much you had improved his quirk”

“His quirk, huh?” Katsuki smirked while Izuku tried to fight a laugh without success.

“Yeah, he said it was his because he’s the youngest so he’s the original and all of you are just proyections of his future self”

“...that smart fucking brat”

“You always were”

“The fucking confidence” Katsuki bonked Izuku’s head as the latter laughed again, and then he turned around. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then”

“Good night, Kacchan”

“Night, nerd”

---

PART 5 HERE

#bakudeku #bkdk #bakudeku fic #bkdk fic

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 3 years

Text

Home (Four Times Crowley was Lovesick - and Aziraphale Took Care of Him)

Written for @do-it-with-style-events "Who Needs A Great Plan" event, Day 1, prompt "Four"

Crawly stood beneath the white wing, watching the rain fall, watching the humans walk away, watching anything but the angel beside him, his smile, the way he furrowed his brow and pouted.

His heart kept doing a funny skipping thing every time he looked that way, which was odd, and made him think he’d gotten some sort of defective body, or possibly that he’d messed something up in the transition from the serpent form.

“You know, I do think this rain might not be as pleasant as I’d hoped,” the angel said, tipping his head back so sopping white curls dangled, dripping onto his robe. “I’m starting to feel a bit cold, are you?”

“Nah. M’adem’n,” Crawly muttered, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.

“Well. I suppose we all have our aptitudes.” He reached down to squeeze the rainwater from his sleeve. “I suppose you carry the fires of Hell within you, or something?”

“S’nice.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the angel turn to smile at him and now his heart was doing some sort of backflip, and his stomach attempting to dance. “G-g-gotta keep’m somewhere.”

“I see. I do find myself missing my sword, but I think…” his lips pursed. “I think it’s in the right hands.”

How could he forget the angel had given away his sword.Fucking brilliant.

Crawly sniffed, and the cold seemed to creep into his nose. “M-must’a b’n-n-nice t’have a-a-achoo!”

His body must be worse than he’d thought. His entire face seemed to have exploded.

“Good lord, what was that?” The angel shuffled closer, peering at him, reaching up to poke at Crawly’s nose. “Is this supposed to make that sort of noise?”

The demon braced himself, expecting pain, expecting a reprimand, expecting anything but a soft finger gently massaging the bridge of his nose, pressing lightly as if he might break.

“S’only a-achoo!” Not again. “Achoo! A-CHOO!”

“This sounds serious!” The angel now stood so close that his arm pressed against Crawly’s. “Oh! And your hand!” He snatched it up, gently tracing his fingers across the demon’s palm. “It’s cold! Have your fires gone out?”

“Nnnnnnnnnh. S’th’cold,” he confessed. “S’getting in m’nose.”

“Well, that will not do.” Being careful to keep his wing in place, the angel looped his arms around Crawly’s waist, drawing him into an unexpected softness, a steady warmth. “There. Is this better?”

“Mrgl.” Crawly didn’t look over, even as the angel leaned against him. He shifted his am, putting it around the angel’s shoulders, rubbed his forearm as he rubbed Crawly’s side, but the demon did not look.

It was safer that way.

“Then you hold the oyster like this, and—” Aziraphale slurped it out of the shell.

“Ngk.” Crowley swirled his wine, glaring into the cup. “I…maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.”

“Nonsense! Trying new foods is one of the delights of the world.”

“Yeah, but…I prefer foods that don’t smell so bad.”

That made Aziraphale laugh, which made things harder. It seemed to echo in Crowley’s chest, send his heart into answering flutters. He shifted on the couch, but there was only so far he could roll before it was impossible to drink. Which meant he had to keep looking across the table, at Aziraphale’s couch, where he reclined in a rolling curve of soft white toga and ate his oysters and wouldn’t stop smiling.

“Crowley? Are you feeling quite well?”

“Nrgh. Yeah. Why?”

“Because I asked four times how your wine is and you never responded.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t remember, so he drank a mouthful, then immediately spat it out. Salt water and vinegar, same as any Roman wine. “Lousy.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” And all at once, the angel rolled off his couch and now he was crossing the room and oh Satan, he was on Crowley’s.

This was a disaster.

Aziraphale leaned down and rested a hand on Crowley’s forehead. “You do feel extremely warm. Are you ill? I’m not sure a demon can get ill but—”

“Yes! Yes. That.” He tried to sit up. “Very, very ill. I should go. I should go now—”

“But—”

Crowley managed to get his feet under him, and his robe under his feet, and he collapsed again, falling onto something softer than the couch Oh Satan it was Aziraphale’s lap.

“Crowley!” His head turned instinctively and shit, those eyes were so close.

His heart was going to explode, but it was worth it.

“I should…take you home…”

“Ahhhhhhhh,” Crowley managed. Yes. Please. Please, wherever you call home, that’s where I want to be.

“Yes. Right. Immediately. Tell me where you’re staying, and I will escort you back.”

“My…my…oh.” His stomach was doing something new, twisting around itself. Like when he saw the Hellhounds getting ready for a walk, but worse. “M’a’th’p’liss.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m! At! Th—thepalace.” Great. Now he was either shouting or mumbling. Why couldn’t he think?

“Good. Right. Palace.” He slid his arm behind Crowley, supporting him. “Do you think you can walk?”

The demon’s legs had never shaken like this before. “Definitely not.”

“That’s alright.” And Aziraphale scooped him up into his arms, as easily as if Crowley were a child. “I’ll help you.”

Crowley hadn’t slept in over a month.

He shouldn’t have needed to. Demons didn’t sleep. But he’d gotten used to it, most nights, and now his task consumed him day and night, driving him to ever more complex plans, ever more desperate measures.

But finally…finally…he’d gotten a bloody crowd to see that gloomy talk-y play.

And just in time. Aziraphale had sent word that he was returning tonight, and he was supposed to meet Crowley here, outside the inn. The demon had rooms above, which had been used for scheming and planning and plotting and not, for a long time, sleeping.

He was fine, though. Running on pure adrenaline, yeah, but that just made life good. He couldn’t wait to swagger into that theater, spread his arms and show the angel—

“Ah, Crowley! There you are, my good fellow.”

He turned his head and fuck, there went his knees. Aziraphale was smiling at him like he was actually glad to see Crowley, and his entire body just stopped obeying any commands or even regular rules of biology. He staggered, legs feeling watery, his head spun, lights brighter than stars flashing before his eyes, and his heart just ached to reach out.

“Crowley? Is something the matter?”

“Mnothang.” Brilliant. He slumped against the wall of the inn, trying to get some sense of reality back. “M’a little tired’s’all.”

“Tired? Are you sure?” Aziraphale rushed forward, cupping Crowley’s face in his hand. “You feel…clammy. I need—can you take your glasses off? I need to see your eyes.”

“Szfiiiine.” But he pulled them off, and found himself again pierced by eyes glowing just a bit too blue to be allowed.

“No, no your eyes are glassy. And—and look, your pulse is racing.”Now came the concerned look, oh Satan, no one else ever looked at Crowley like that. “This…this looks a great deal like the latest plague, I saw several villages struck by it coming back.”

“Angelllll. M’ademon. We don’ get th’plague.” Why could he not just speak normally?

“Nonsense, you know perfectly well you’ve always had a strange constitution, getting sick far too often. You still have rooms here, yes? Upstairs. To bed.”

Will you come with me? The angel’s hand hadn’t moved from Crowley’s cheek, and he never wanted to be away from that touch again. “But…”

“No buts.” The hand did fall away, but only to grip his shoulder, spin Crowley around and propel him forward, through the door, and up the stairs.

Aziraphale walked past the mess in his room, the papers, notes, maps, disguises, and everything else needed to convince a city it actually liked that blasted play. He steered Crowley directly to the bed, and pushed him down onto it. “There. Stay put, please.”

“Nnnnh.” It wasn’t the most comfortable place he’d ever lain, but the rough straw mattress seemed luxurious just now. Something tugged at his foot, and he looked up to find Aziraphale, carefully pulling his shoes off. “Still here?”

“What are you talking about? Where else would I be?” He sounded cross.

“The play.”

“Play? Play? Oh, yes, Hamlet.” He tossed the shoes aside and settled Crowley’s leg back onto the bed. “I’m sure I’ll have plenty of opportunities. I hear they’re planning to run it twice as long as they’d expected.”

Of course they were, Crowley was good at his job. But there was no point if Aziraphale didn’t see the crowd. “Gotta go,” he insisted, though his body was already curling up on itself, preparing for a long sleep.

“Absolutely not.” A rustle, and when Crowley’s eye cracked open again, Aziraphale was seated on the edge of the bed, taking Crowley’s hand in his. “I need to make sure you’re alright.”

“Hnnngh.” But he was far too exhausted to argue. “Why’r’ya’lways…fussing…like y’r worried…”

He didn’t hear Aziraphale’s answer, but in his dream the angel said, “Of course I worry. Whatever would I do without you?”

“All them angels,” Crowley shouted, bottle in hand, “an’specially Gabriel, can go! To! Helllllllll!”

“Really? And what about the demons already there?”

“Thas’th brilliant part.” He staggered a little, grinning at Aziraphale. Their celebration at the Ritz had gotten a little out of hand, but in a good way. A way they bloody well deserved. “Th’demons. They go to Heaven. But. But. Buuuuuuut.” He took a long drink, then offered the bottle to the angel, who shook his head. “Wha’was I…ri’ri’righ’—go to Heaven. But. Don’ tell’em th’passwords. For anyfing.”

“Won’t they just figure them out?”

“Nnnnnnnnope! Cuz allll the brains in Hell are right here!” He shouted in the general direction of the office building. “Have fun puttin’…Hastur’n charg’a…stuff…” He tried for another drink, but the wine had all gone. “Awwww.”

“Don’t worry, my dear, we’re nearly home.”

“Ya. S’good.” Home was good. Plants. Television. More wine. The bed. Hadn’t slept all week.

Why was Aziraphale coming with him? Hadn’t the shop un-burned down? Had he left something at Crowley’s flat? A…spare bowtie?

Also: why did Mayfair look suspiciously like Soho?

The penny dropped at about the time Aziraphale got the shop door unlocked. “Thizzisn’ home,” he pointed out.

“Well-spotted. Come on, then.”

Shrugging, Crowley followed. There’d be more wine here, at least, and a sofa to sleep on. Not the most comfortable, but he was tired enough.

Something was different. Crowley squinted at a pile of books, but they remained stubbornly bookish. Ah, well. Sofa.

He slumped on it, waiting for Aziraphale to head to the back room for some wine, or settle into his armchair. Maybe pick up a book to read while Crowley rambled.

Instead, the angel sat beside him.

“Annngiraphel…”

“Crowley. Are you sure you’re feeling well?”

“Course. I’m cebretory. Cerebrorrry. Celebatory. ‘M partying.”

“Yes, I know. But…I just…” Oh, Someone. The concerned, furrowed brow. The pouting lips. The eyes. So much worse than the smile. Good thing Crowley was already sitting, because the room was starting to spin, even before Aziraphale picked up his hand. “I wish you would take care of yourself.”

“Wha? I do. Allllays do. No one else’z gonna do’t. Not’n Hell. Wily demon, righ’?” He tried to smile, even as his heart and stomach started switching places.

“Then why are you always unwell? I’ve lost count of…of how many times I’ve seen you falling over, unable to speak, too hot or too cold.”

“Ssssss’not like that.”

“Yes it is! And…and it was bad enough before. Crowley, we…we’re all we have left. Each other. And…and whatever it is that…that gets you into this condition…alcohol, or illness, or…whatever else. I wish you would avoid it.”

“Can’t.”

“Crowley—” Aziraphale pulled his hand closer, eyes pleading, and for a moment the demon thought he’d just discorporate on the spot. Probably would have if he’d been sober.

“Can’t. S’only one thing tha’makes me…fall orer mysel’. Makes me…can’t speak. S’only evrrr been one.”

Aziraphale’s face was so soft. Crowley couldn’t figure out how his hand had gotten there, pressed to his cheek, but it was good.

Or not. Angel’s eyes went wide. Probably did something wrong. Crowley pulled his hand back, wondering if he’d be kicked out.

“Can you…sober up, dear?”

“Nnnnnnnnnnnnidonwanna.” He wrinkled his nose. Shoulda stopped three bottles ago.

“Yes, I know. But you’ll likely have a hangover either way, and you might as well have it now. And…I want to finish this conversation sober.” Oh, the sad eyes, the serious face.

“Awwwwwtha’s no’fair. S’not like I c’n say no.”

“I…yes, you can. It is your choice.”

“Nnnh. Can’t say no’ta’you.” He looked around for something, maybe a garbage bin or…oh, yes, a planter. Lucky tree was about to get some very expensive alcohol.

He concentrated, pulling all the alcohol out of his body, filling one planter, then another, then another. As the light-headedness faded, the headache came in, pounding and pulsing.

“Glarghl.” Crowley pressed a hand to his eye. “See? Sober. Happy?”

“Not yet. Can you walk?” A light tug on his hand, and Crowley staggered to his feet, trailing after Aziraphale. Up the stairs? They never went up there. Private bookshelves and sculptures and junk.

At the top, Aziraphale opened a door that he’d thoughtwas a closet but actually led to Crowley’s bedroom.

Wait.

Crowley turned around, bleary eyes searching the shop. Plants. His plants. His sculptures. Junk. Also his.

Back to the bedroom. His bed, his furniture. Not his room. Wooden walls covered in bookshelves, good sized window looking out at the back alley. He could just see the Bentley parked out there.

“Th’fuuuuck…”

“I’m…I’m sorry. I should have asked.” Aziraphale gently pushed him towards the bed. “If you don’t like it, I’ll put everything back tomorrow. I just.” A gentle nudge, and Crowley sat on the bed. “I want you close. Where I can take care of you.”

“Don’need it.” He wriggled his toes, making his boots vanish. It was easier than meeting Aziraphale’s eyes.

“Yes, you do.” A hand on his shoulder pushed Crowley down into the bed, his head onto the pillow

It felt so much more comfortable here, in Aziraphale’s shop, with Aziraphale beside him.

“No. Don’t need you to take care of me.” He stared resolutely up at the ceiling, searching his aching head for the words he needed. Swallowing, trying to push aside the pain, the soreness in his throat. “I need…I just need…”

He couldn’t say it. But he reached out, hand groping along the edge of the bed until it found Aziraphale’s, resting lightly on the mattress. Cautiously, Crowley slid his hand on top of it.

“Crowley…please look at me.” His eyes wandered down, following the shelves until they landed on Aziraphale’s face. On his brilliant, angelic smile.

The demon tried to smile back, though his head was pounding. He managed something like a grimace. “Nnnnnnnnh. C’n we finish this in’th’morning.”

“Do you think you’ll be better able to talk?”

“Mrrrf. Will you be there?”

“Of course,” the angel said, nearly indignant.

“Nope. Not a chance.” His thumb traced the back of Aziraphale’s hand. “I can never say what I want. S’not even that many words. But…” Crowley shrugged.

“Can you move over?” Aziraphale asked, sliding his hand out from under Crowley’s.

The demon blinked, confused, and wriggled further along the mattress.

The bed dipped under the new weight as Aziraphale climbed into the vacated space, laying beside him. “I…I could never say it, either. Always something stopping me, some…uncertainty. Even now. But I shall keep trying.” His fingers gently brushed Crowley’s cheekbone. “My dear…would you like to…to make this place…your home?”

“Nh. Shop’s not home.” The fingers jerked away, and Aziraphale’s brow furrowed, not in concern this time, in pain. Fuck. Why was it so hard?

He caught Aziraphale’s hand before it could get far, bringing it back, gently resting it against his heart. “This, Angel. This’s home. You.”

“Oh.” Blue eyes blinked, a look of wonder in them Crowley had felt many times, wonder at this being who cared for him, who stayed by him. Always. “I…I see.”

The mattress shifted again, and suddenly the angel was closer. Which of them had moved? Did it matter? Did anything matter, apart from Aziraphale’s arm across him, all the warmth and softness he could ever ask for, pulling him in, pulling him close, enveloping him as it had that first day.

“Yes. Welcome home, dear.”

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