#also like... do not even pretend that handing over the egg would have worked

[kradogsrats]

I'd Do Anything (... But I Won't Do That)

This started out kind of weird and petty but then turned into an actual thing about the relationship of Viren's character arc(s) to the Arc 2 "I'll do anything for you" theme, because that's actually pretty important for the context of how both Callum and Claudia will have to confront the same conflict.

Pictured: Do NOT take a shot every time we get a callback to this line, you will die.

Basically, the petty part is that I think evaluating Viren's Arc 1 decisions through the "I will do anything for my family" lens is... disingenuous is too strong a word, but maybe simplistic? The "Viren doesn't reveal/offer the egg to save Harrow's life because he's too preoccupied with hanging on to his own power" take has never sat right with me because the real core problem of Viren is a lot more complex than just "he's lying (to himself)," it's a whole pattern of denying his own agency in doubling down on his mistakes. He'll make one bad/selfish decision, and it becomes a cascade of subsequent actions that he sees as being unavoidable, but that aren't necessarily even informed by the same reasoning or values as the initial decision. Like everything else in Viren's dream, Kpp'Ar's take that his choices are all oriented toward power is both accurate and not necessarily as literal as it seems.

Because, like... Viren's not actually a manipulator or even much of a planner—he's a very skilled opportunist. That's why all his choices wind up being based entirely on the context of past choices, and frequently make no sense when you look at them from a "hey buddy, where exactly do you think you're going with this" angle. It also contributes to why he's so desperate for control all the time, in that he acts primarily in a reactive way rather than proactively, which is always an inherently less secure position.

Pictured: The kind of statement that definitely always leads to things going super well.

Even taking the egg in the first place is a reactive decision—not that he doesn't make a choice there, or that he doesn't choose power over the threat he believes the egg poses, but he did actually walk all the way up the Storm Spire, fight five or six Dragonguard, and get kicked down a flight of stairs with the intent of destroying it. He didn't argue with Harrow about destroying it while secretly planning to take it for himself. He only even thinks of it as a weapon because Tiadrin planted the idea in his mind—as an opportunist, the temptation to leave an avenue to power open rather than close it off is what he can't resist. He sat on Sarai's last breath for ten years waiting for a chance to weaponize it to maximum effect, he can sit (figuratively... or literally, I'm not gonna stop him) on the egg for as long as it takes for an appropriate use it to appear. Tiadrin even specifically encourages that he not "waste" it, both specifically by destroying it now, and implicitly by using it too quickly and foolishly.

Pictured: Smart mom, dumb ass.

Tiadrin's angle, of course, is that the longer Viren hangs on to the egg without actually using it, the higher the chance it can be recovered. She doesn't know that Viren will leave things in a state where the assumption is that the egg was destroyed, meaning no one will think to try recovering it, but that's not really her fault and it still pays off.

The gamble Viren makes, on the other hand, is that the opportunities the egg affords will be worth the risk of it somehow falling back into Xadian hands. If the egg returns to Xadia alive, he's back to square "his name will be vengeance" in the game of We Killed the Dragon King. So yeah, you could say Viren values keeping the egg over Harrow's life, but in doing that he's actually operating largely on the exact same values and beliefs that made him argue for destroying it in the first place. It's just that his prior choice of risking humanity's security for the sake of potentially world-altering power has backfired in the context of an immediate and direct threat to Harrow's life. Really, the entire rest of s1 and s2 are him doubling down specifically on keeping the egg from returning to Xadia while also milking the opportunities coming from that course—e.g. the egg cannot go back to Xadia, therefore Callum and Ezran cannot return to Katolis either with or without it (knowing their goal is to return it to Xadia, which it will be difficult to stop them from doing once Ezran is king), and that means someone has to take the throne. If the egg can't be recovered, their only hope is a decisive first strike against Xadia, so someone has to mobilize the Pentarchy immediately. None of them are things he planned in the sense of "well, if Harrow dies then I can get his sons out of the way and make myself king, and then conquer Xadia." It's all reactive to the situation with the egg. You could argue that he'd do the same things if the egg wasn't a factor, like it's possible he's always been kind of lying in wait to push Harrow's sons aside and seize the throne... but if that was the case, he'd really do much better to make a bid for regent like any normal evil advisor would.

Anyway, all of that does still undermine the statement that he'd do "anything" for his family (which includes Harrow), and it is ultimately because of that initial choice he made to take the opportunity of power over the certainty of securing humanity's future. It's just not as simple as, "Viren says he would do anything for his family, but he won't sacrifice his own power and ambition." In the wake of his critical failure to prioritize humanity in destroying the egg, he's making choices that do prioritize humanity (from within his worldview that Xadia is an existential threat barely held at bay)... but they're still bad choices because they're all reactive to that original bad choice. It's not that he's working at cross-purposes to what he says his goals are, it's that he genuinely thinks digging his hole deeper will somehow work out positively, or at least better than the alternative would.

Pictured: Another statement that for sure indicates you're doing totally great.

Really though, I don't think you can (or are supposed to) look at the trifecta of self-individuals-world and point to one that Viren—or really any character outside of Callum, Rayla, and Claudia—puts at the top. Part of the whole point here is that elevating one of those at the expense of the others is never going to be the right choice all of the time. Obviously always putting yourself first is shitty, but we get multiple examples of over-prioritizing one of the other two as being self-destructive and dangerous. Consistency isn't supposed to be positive, here—a core part of this arc is likely to be Callum grappling with that, and that's without even looking at what's going on with Claudia.

The other thing is that "I will do anything for my family"-Viren is actually on some level a different character than Arc 1 Viren, such that evaluating one based on the context of the other doesn't actually make sense. We don't get even a hint of the "I would do anything for my family" in the series until s4, after Viren has died and been revived. Yeah, we had it earlier in the novels, but in there it's really about Claudia and her relationship with Viren, not Viren's values or actions. Arc 1 Viren and Arc 2 Viren inform each other as characters, but most of the point is the ways they aren't the same. And while Arc 2 Viren is understandably preoccupied with the concept of sacrificing for family—given that he's been stripped of everything that was in his life except Claudia, who went to terrible lengths on his behalf—Arc 1 Viren is actually quite consistent with how he's laid out in his Tales of Xadia character sheet:

Like, check out those Liberty and Glory statements—not even close to the same ballpark as Callum's "I value those close to me more than anyone or anything" Devotion and "I'm beholden to my inner circle, not some silly kingdom" Liberty, but quite accurate as the through-line on his s1-s3 actions. There's nothing in there about family, because Arc 1 Viren isn't actually meant to be associated with "I will do anything for my family," and he's not lying to himself by not acting consistently with it in Arc 1.

Arc 2 Viren is then a kind of emotional reboot back to a particular point earlier in his life—not necessarily the point before he first did any dark magic at all, but before he did his ill-defined "anything" to save Soren, which is implied in multiple places to be the point where he started in on a spiral that had tangible and fairly rapid effects on his personality and outlook. That's further emphasized by the contents of his dream in s5—seeing him behave in a genuinely loving and joyful way with Soren is shocking, and immediately raises the question of what the fuck happened and why.

Pictured: Healthy coping mechanisms.

Part of what still distinguishes Viren's "I will do anything for my family; however dangerous, however vile" from Callum's developing "I would do anything for you" is that Viren is always deliberately addressing the "things that are so unforgivable, you will never forgive yourself" facet while Callum leaves it implicit because he doesn't really understand and/or want to acknowledge that yet (and also Rayla would probably twist his nose again, which fucking hurts). In how Viren describes it to Terry, he is using that up-front acknowledgement to then essentially abdicate any emotional responsibility for... well, anything at all. The entire "however dangerous, however vile" mantra is another way of denying his own agency, because if he'll do anything, then he doesn't actually have to go through the difficult emotional process of making those decisions and dealing with the aftermath.

Pictured: H-healthy coping mechanisms?

Terry correctly pegs this questionable excuse for philosophy as "not having feelings," and generally not the best approach, because it will do things like lead to a default state of emotional unavailability to your children—oh, wait. I think it's not unlikely that Viren's emotional distancing from what "I will do anything for my family" meant contributed a lot to the degradation of it as his core value and his ensuing Arc 1 state. A lot of what's going on in his s5 dream is that he's being confronted with the consequences of "I will do anything for my family," specifically. He's being forced through an emotional speedrun of what it has cost him and everyone around him, and what has he got to show for it? Claudia, corrupted beyond recognition, proudly repeating his own words back to him.

Pictured: Whatever the opposite of daddy issues is.

Because the whole point of Viren's "I will do anything for my family" in Arc 2 is the challenge of whether he would/will do it all again. If he holds to that value the same way he did before, he'll do whatever it takes to save Claudia—however dangerous, however vile. Most of Viren's moral and emotional stuff has been based on his self-serving resignation to having "no choice." He's so tragically trapped in a chain of spiraling consequences he can never break... except oh wait, he totally can. S5 is all about Viren recognizing the dark magic feedback loop and that he has the agency to break it, and his best and only chance to avoid doing further harm to Claudia is to not be willing to destroy himself that way again, even it it means his death will cause her terrible emotional pain.

We'll see how that works out. Because let's be real: Claudia's gonna Claudia, regardless. However it goes, there's an important narrative precedent being set for both breaking free from dark magic/Aaravos and evaluating the "I will do anything for you" impulse in a more nuanced way.

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 4 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After you helped him with his dating app, Bradley goes out with a woman who should have snagged his interest. But it's a little hard to pay attention to someone else when he's constantly thinking about you. And it doesn't help that Nat easily calls him out on his crush. 

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (eventually 18+)

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

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For a split second on Friday night, you had managed to convince yourself that the sooner you helped Bradley get matched up with someone, the better it would be for you personally. 

You'd be able to stop thinking about him as a hot, single dad and be able to focus on him as the hot, taken dad who you occasionally babysat for. You could still go over and watch Noah when he and his girlfriend went out for a date night, which you wouldn't mind doing at all. 

And that's why you had helped him get his dating app sorted out. Because the sooner you could stop thinking about eating popcorn with him on his couch, both of you in sweats, the better. There was no way that man was interested in you. Sure, he was a little flirty at times. Yeah, he had brushed your cheek when he put the crown back on your head. But it was probably all because he could tell that the babysitter had a crush on him, and he was trying to be nice.

You were surprised to hear from him on Wednesday morning when you were getting out of the shower before class. 

Bradley Bradshaw: Are you available tonight?

God, it hadn't taken long for him to chat with one of the women on the app and get a date set up. 

I'm free. What time do you want me to watch Noah?

You felt your shoulders sag as you got dressed. You needed to chill out. The only thing you should be worrying about later this evening was Noah and studying for your exams. 

Bradley Bradshaw: I'm meeting someone at 6:30. Be here at 6?

Yeah. You would be there. 

When you pulled into his driveway at 5:45, you were happy to see his Bronco was already there. You were also annoyed that Greyson was blowing up your phone. You knew what he wanted, but you had been avoiding him all week. You were beginning to think that this "ex with benefits" arrangement wasn't really working for you. 

After shoving your phone into your bag, you knocked on the front door and called out, "Hi! It's me."

"We're in the kitchen."

You followed Bradley's voice, and when you spotted Noah at the table, his face lit up as he mispronounced your name. You were instantly smiling back, but that didn't last long. Because when you saw Bradley standing at the stove, he was wearing his flight jumpsuit tied low around his waist with a tight, black tee shirt. 

"Hey, Princess," he said, glancing at you over his shoulder. And with just two words and some black fabric, you were a little turned on. 

"How are you two boys doing?" you asked as casually as you could while watching Bradley's biceps stretching his shirt sleeves. 

'Good!" Noah cheered, eating a bowl of dry cereal with his hands. 

"Fine," Bradley replied. "Be a lot better if I had time to go grocery shopping. Thanks for making the spaghetti and meatballs for us." He turned to look at you again, his eyes lingering on your lips. 

"Don't you need to get ready for your date?" you asked, closing the distance between the two of you. 

"Yeah, but I'm starving. Need to eat something before dinner."

You looked at the pan on the stove. "What are you trying to make?"

"Eggs," he replied, turning to look down at you with a small smile. "Trying being the operative word."

"You're useless in here," you told him, pushing him toward the hallway. "Go get ready and I'll make you some eggs." His body was warm and hard, and it was clearly a mistake for you to touch him like this. 

"You don't have to do that," he said, laughing as he pretended you were actually capable of pushing him around. 

"I actually don't know how you managed to survive this long without me," you said, pushing him all the way to his bedroom door before he surrendered. 

"You have a valid point."

You felt buoyant as you walked back to the kitchen and made Bradley an onion and cheese omelet while you sang with Noah. "You want ants on a log?" you asked, tousling his hair. 

"I love them!" he cheered, but when you checked the refrigerator, there were no carrots left. Pretty much the only thing in there was the French vanilla coffee creamer, which instantly made you smile. You took it out and started brewing some coffee in Bradley's fancy coffee maker. 

"Is this for me?" Bradley asked, buttoning up his Hawaiian shirt right in front of you and nodding to the omelet. 

"Yep, should hold you over until your actual dinner," you said as he grabbed a fork and took a huge bite.

He moaned. He literally moaned as he ate the food you made for him. You watched him take bite after bite until it was all gone. You wished he'd use his mouth on you next. 

"That was delicious. Thank you."

You just nodded and cleared your throat. "Mind if I take Noah out in the car with me? I thought he might like the bayside playground."

"Sure. I'll put his car seat in your car before I leave," Bradley said, kissing Noah on his head. 

Once again, you thought about him kissing you there as he smiled and headed out for his date. 

"Noah, feel like going to the playground?"

"I want ants on the logs," he insisted, having finished his cereal. 

You sighed, and just as you heard Bradley pull out of the driveway, you decided to see how much money he kept behind the TV. A hundred bucks. You could go grocery shopping for a decent amount of food with a hundred dollars. 

"Should we go buy more carrots and raisins?" you asked Noah, tucking the money into your pocket. "You can pick out a treat, and then I'll make you ants on the logs before bedtime."

You ended up at the grocery store, trying to make a game out of everything to keep him entertained while you tried to maximize the money. Hopefully Bradley wouldn't be annoyed, but you figured he needed as much help as he could get. Noah was sweet, but doing everything by yourself was too hard. 

"More cereal?" you asked, and you let Noah pick out Cheerios. "And milk this time?"

When headed back to Bradley's house with ninety-eight dollars worth of groceries and Noah in tow, you couldn't help but imagine staying all night and getting more meals ready for them. 

You managed to make Noah's snack while you unpacked the groceries. "I need my crown!" he said, running to his bedroom and returning with his yellow, construction paper crown. "Get yours, too!"

You ran your fingers along his cheek. "I don't know what happened to mine. Should we make a new one?"

Noah laughed and took you by the hand. "It's in daddy's room."

You let him lead you down the hallway. "Is it?" you asked, entering Bradley's room all the way for the first time. It was tidy and it smelled like him. But you stopped short when you saw it. 

Your purple crown was hanging on one of the bedposts. 

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

Bradley was actually enjoying himself. His date with Talia was going way better than either of his previous dates. Not only did she tell him she loves kids, she asked to see some pictures of Noah.

Bradley paused for a beat as he swiped past the selfie of you in the crown and the photo you had taken for his dating profile. Then he showed Talia some pictures of Noah, and she made a fuss over how adorable he was. But now Bradley was thinking about what you and Noah might be doing at home right now. He got so distracted he barely heard what Talia was asking him. 

"Sorry, what was that?" he asked, watching her lick chocolate cake from her fork with mild interest. 

She giggled softly. "I was asking if you wanted to plan for a second date? Maybe this weekend? When we can stay out later? You said you had a reliable babysitter."

Bradley scrutinized her face for a moment. She was pretty. She seemed really sweet. She wanted to go out with him again.

"How about I send you a message? Maybe we can make something work."

When Bradley said goodbye outside the restaurant, Talia leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, grazing his mustache as she pulled away. 

"Goodnight, Bradley. Talk soon," she said with a grin. But he felt nothing. 

During the short drive home, he tried to convince himself to take Talia up on her second date offer, but it just wasn't working. But when he pulled into his driveway next to your car, he found himself jumping out of the Bronco and jogging up his front steps to get inside as quickly as he could. 

"Hi," you whispered, looking up from your spot on the couch. You had a textbook open on your lap, and you were wearing the paper crown. Either you or Noah must have retrieved it from his bedroom. The idea of you in there thrilled him a little too much. 

"Hi," he replied with a grin. "How was Noah?"

"Good. How was your date?"

"Good." His heart was beating a little faster as you set your book aside and straightened up on the couch. 

"Oh. You think you'll go out with her again?" 

Bradley couldn't help but think you looked a little disappointed. "Not sure."

"I'm beginning to think you're just really, very picky, Bradley."

He blew out a breath, dropping onto the couch next to you, loving the way you said his name. "Huh. I never considered that."

"You don't like martinis. You don't like the opera. You don't like women under twenty-four or over forty. All those martini sipping, opera loving grannies of San Diego might be just what you need." 

Bradley was doubled over laughing, looking at your smirk.

"I mean, who does that even leave for you to date?" you asked, clearly trying not to laugh.

You.

Jesus Christ. He needed to stop thinking about you like that. There was no chance in hell that was ever going to happen. Which was a real shame, because you made him laugh every single time he was with you. 

"Oh, I hope you don't mind, but Noah and I went grocery shopping."

"You did?" he asked, his laughter turning to surprise. 

"Yeah. I used the cash behind the TV," you told him with a wince. "I hope that was okay. I didn't want to bother you during dinner."

Okay? It was more than okay. He couldn't believe you had done that for him and Noah. 

"I also made you dinner for tomorrow night. Chicken fajitas that you can reheat." 

Now he was just staring at you blankly. "You don't have to do any of that stuff."

You just shrugged. "If you don't want me to, I won't. But honestly, Bradley? It looks like you could use the help around here. You're kind of shit in the kitchen."

"You caught onto that, huh?" he asked, involuntarily inching closer to you on the couch. "What gave it away?"

"Oh, I guess the fact that Noah asked me about a hundred times to leave more food in the little plastic containers for him."

Bradley reached out and ran his finger along your crown. "Did you wear that to the store?"

Your eyes fluttered closed briefly. "No. It wasn't until almost bedtime that Noah wanted to wear our crowns. I didn't know you kept it."

He just nodded. He should be embarrassed that it had been hanging on his bed. 

"I like your bedroom," you whispered. 

Bradley swallowed hard, trying to think of something to say, but you beat him to it.

"Why aren't you sure about a second date?"

His response was out before he could consider it. "Aren't there supposed to be sparks?"

You pressed your lips together and nodded. "Ideally."

"Didn't feel them," he replied with a shrug.

"Shame." 

He watched you stand and stretch, just like last time. But your shirt rode up, and Bradley could see your skin, and he wanted to press his lips there. He quickly stood as well. "Um, I'll get the carseat out of your car," he mumbled. "And if you're going to insist on being exceptionally helpful again in the future, I'll leave you my credit card for groceries."

"Okay," you replied, reaching up on your toes and gently putting the crown on his head. "Want to put that back in your room for safe keeping?"

Every ounce of his being wanted to suggest you take it there yourself and wait for him. 

"Okay," he told you instead. 

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

Bradley paced around the hangar, waiting for his turn to hit the skies. 

"What is your problem?" Nat asked him as she sat calmly on one of the benches. "I thought you'd be completely chill right now. You've been on a bunch of dates."

Bradley stopped and looked at her. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Nat just rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you didn't get your rocks off yet?"

"No," he practically growled. "I haven't even been on a second date."

"You know, you can have one without the other, right?"

Bradley ran his hands over his face. "I don't want to start doing that."

Nat stood up and stepped in front of him, placing her hands on his chest to stop him pacing. He hadn't even been aware he had started pacing again. 

"How long has it been since you were intimate with someone?"

Bradley shrugged and didn't want to look at her. "A year."

Nat wrapped her arms around him as well as she could with them both wearing their flight suits. He felt instantly better. He should have known it would be okay to talk to her about stuff. 

"Oh, okay. I get it now. You need it to be special."

"Kind of," he replied, looking down at her as she nodded up at him. 

"I'll stop busting your balls about it then."

"Appreciate that."

"Why don't you tell me about your dates?" she prompted, patting him on the shoulder as she released him.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Not much to tell. Rebel just wanted to hookup. One didn't like kids. The one I went out with the other day was okay. I should have wanted a second date; I know she certainly did. But there wasn't anything really drawing me in? I don't know, Nat."

"Well, how's the babysitter working out?"

Bradley felt himself relax when he thought about you. "Oh, she's great. She's so funny," he said, smiling as he thought about you picking on him for being useless in the kitchen. "She always eats Skittles. And she knows the most random music. Did I mention she knows how to cook? Like really cook? She's good at it. And she likes fancy coffee creamers just like me. She even took Noah to the grocery store with her, so my fridge has actual food in it. And Noah asks for her all the time. She brings him coloring books, and she taught him how to sing the alphabet song backwards."

"Oh my God," Nat said, grinning wildly now. "You have a crush on your babysitter."

Bradley knew he was blushing. He could feel the immediate rush of heat to his face. 

"What does she look like?" Nat asked, looking smug as hell.

Bradley huffed out a breath and looked up at the ceiling, willing the redness to recede from his cheeks. "Real cute."

Nat squealed when Bradley took his phone out and found the selfie you had sent to him. "You took a picture of her!"

He shook his head. "She sent it to me. When I was out last weekend. She and Noah made the paper crowns, and she sent me a picture of Noah first."

When Nat started to stare into his soul, he should have known he was in deep shit. "And you asked her for a selfie?" she said, exuding confidence. He nodded and she said, "You asked your cute babysitter to send you a selfie when you were on a date with another woman. No wonder your dates aren't working out!" She slapped him hard on the chest.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"You're thinking about getting your dick wet with the babysitter."

Bradley absolutely could not deny that. He'd been thinking about you in a lot of different ways, including some that were definitely not rated G.

"Nat, just because I'm thinking it doesn't mean I'm going to shoot my shot with her."

"Well, why not?" she asked, putting her helmet on as they got called out to their Super Hornets.

Bradley scoffed as he followed her out into the sunlight. "She's twelve years younger than me. She's still finishing school. I have a fucking child and a lot of baggage. The list goes on and on. I'm going to focus on finding someone suitable. Someone a little older."

"If you like her, I say go for it. But don't just fuck her because she's fun and you think she's cute. Don't do that to her. Or Noah."

Bradley was more confused than ever at the moment, and he needed to clear his head before he took off.

"I wouldn't do that to myself either, Nat." He wasn't just trying to hookup with some random woman; he could do that after an hour at the Hard Deck if he really wanted to.

"Well I want to meet her. This weekend. I'll take you out on Saturday night and meet her then."

He sighed. "I have a date on Friday. Let me see if she's even free to watch Noah both nights."

"Great," Nat replied, turning toward her own aircraft. "And then I'll be the judge of the matter of you getting your dick wet," she called over her shoulder.

Bradley cringed as the ground staff all looked at him as he power walked away. 

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

Bradley asked if you could babysit Noah on back to back nights. Friday and Saturday. Was he already planning a first date followed immediately by a second date? He had probably really hit it off with someone over the app chat feature. It was the only thing that made sense, and he was just trying to cover all of his bases. 

You could watch Noah both nights if you cancelled your plans to hang out with Greyson. The fact that you would rather get to see Bradley for a total of thirty minutes over spending the night with Greyson was telling. 

Yeah, I can come over both nights if you pay me a bonus in fancy coffee from that shop again. 

When you checked your phone at lunchtime while you ate between your classes, Bradley's response made you laugh. 

Bradley Bradshaw: You mean I have to flirt with the barista again? Princess, I'll get kicked out permanently. 

You were smiling nonstop as you typed out a response. 

Do it for me and my caffeine needs? Besides, I doubt the barista will mind being chatted up by you in particular. 

You really shouldn't be encouraging this. It was not a good idea. This man was not available for you. 

Bradley Bradshaw: Oh yeah, Princess? What's that supposed to mean?

Shouldn't he be working right now? Didn't he have a jet he should be flying around in? You couldn't help yourself. You were too excited by the prospect of flirting with him. 

Have you seen yourself? I have full confidence that your flirting capabilities can score me a free coffee. 

You hustled along to your next class, but when you checked your phone again at the end of the day, he had texted you back again.

Bradley Bradshaw: Good to know. See you tomorrow.

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

Bradley wasn't sure why he was doing it, but he managed to leave base a little early on Friday, giving him time to stop at the coffee shop. He picked Noah up with your French vanilla coffee in his cup holder, and now the Bronco smelled sweet and reminded him of you. 

"Can I play with my babysitter?" Noah asked as Bradley buckled him into his car seat. 

Bradley smiled. "Sure, bub. You can play with her."

"She's my favorite," Noah said. "Is she your favorite?" 

Bradley nodded at his son and said, "Yeah. She's my favorite, too."

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

And now Nat is about to get involved again. Could be a good thing, could be a bad thing. I hope you enjoy your babysitter fic @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 5

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[intothedysphoria]

Ocean Hargrove was kind of a handful even for Steve.

Billy, gorgeous and mysterious single dad, had hired Steve’s skills as a babysitter about two months ago because he worked nights and leaving a six year old alone in a house was morally dubious at best.

Ocean was a character to put it lightly. Her favourite word was fuck, she enjoyed recreationally microwaving crayons and Steve was pretty sure she was some manner of petty thief. Steve was sure looking after her every Wednesday from 8pm until 4am had put new grey hairs on his head.

Seeing her mischievous little grin though, Steve couldn’t help smiling back. They’d dance to Slovenian pop, Steve would reluctantly allow her to paint his nails a sludgy green and they’d both draw pictures of opossums wearing cowboy hats.

Her dad was quietly amused by the antics he missed whilst at work. Not that he’d ever said a word to Steve. No, Billy seemed more like the silent, brooding type with interesting tastes in the bedroom. Not that Steve would ever experience said hypothetical interesting tastes.

There was no way Billy didn’t have a girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Or partner. If he was single, he certainly wouldn’t be entertained by Steve. The man who came over to his house with paint in his hair and yogurt on his shirt half the damn time.

Steve tucked any fantasies he might have concerning Billy to the back of his mind and focused on Ocean.

Billy’s shift changed nearing Christmas and suddenly Steve was looking after Ocean from 5pm until 1AM. This brought about a few changes in Steve’s Wednesday routine.

First it meant that Steve was looking after Ocean while she was having her dinner and that brought with it an entirely new set of rules. There were certain foods which weren’t allowed to touch and others which had to be blended and some which weren’t allowed at all. Steve still managed to turn it into a game in the end.

The second and bigger change meant that Steve couldn’t take the early morning train back to his house and instead had to sleep over while Billy was in the house. It was on the couch of course but Billy still brought down blankets and pillows, fussing over Steve being comfortable. He blushed all the way down to his unbuttoned shirt when Steve thanked him.

Steve now saw significantly more of the Hargrove’s domestic life. He was allowed to stay for breakfast, watching Billy create pancakes in the shape of dinosaurs and quietly serve up fried eggs on toast for Steve. It was delicious but Steve suspected he’d think that of anything Billy cooked.

Billy would even text him for non Ocean matters. Usually it was related to Game of Thrones, which Steve hadn’t watched but pretended he did or complaining about work but Steve was just so thrilled he was being addressed.

Billy had also started signing off with kisses which was unprecedented. Maybe it was just a culture thing Steve wasn’t getting? He did know that Billy had a significantly different childhood to him.

The hearts were harder to explain away. Billy did seem like an affectionate guy with the way he interacted with Ocean though, he could just be being friendly.

Then came the thank you flowers on a random Wednesday the moment Steve walked through the door. They were poppies too, Steves favourite. Billy was blushing again. Steve was pretty sure he was too.

Ocean interrupted them by loudly pretending to be sick in the sink. Steve was going to be very sad when she didn’t need a babysitter anymore.

The bombshell that Steve was being replaced was dropped a few weeks later. A snarky, bubblegum popping woman called Heather was going to be taking over Steve’s Wednesday night routine. Her personality was a perfect fit for Ocean.

Steve thanked Billy for everything then in a fit of panic, blocked the number entirely. He didn’t do so well with reminders of his fuck ups.

Most of the foreseeable future seemed to be eating ice cream and possibly begging the Byers to employ him again so he had enough babysitting gigs to keep up with his rent.

Billy knocking on Steve’s door asking him on a fucking date was a part of no future Steve could have predicted. Yet it was the future that was actually happening.

The only response Steve could come out with was “is this a fucking joke”.

It was not a joke. Billy had wanted to do this for months but his ethics meant he refused to make any moves on someone he was employing. Which Steve supposed he could respect.

The date was very nice. The kissing and the sex which happened afterwards was more than very nice.

The best part remained having breakfast afterwards and watching Oceans eyes light up even after she declared they were “fucking gross.”

Steve could handle being fucking gross if it meant staying in the Hargrove’s lives forever.

For @shieldofiron @dragonflylady77 and @robthegoodfellow

[melrodrigo]

Tardy, part 9

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: It’s time to take down Ghostface once and for all…nothing can go wrong, right?

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Language, Angst

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: There’s also fluff in the beginning because it wouldn’t be me without fluff…happy reading! Don’t forget to tell me what you think <3

The rest of the evening is spent in bliss. Tara in your arms splayed on the floor while you guys whisper disgustingly sweet nothings into the other's ear.

The morning after is no different. You wake to the smell of burnt bread, bacon, and eggs.

You get up drearily, try to stretch and immediately regret it when you feel a sharp sting pull at both your shoulder and stomach.

Humph. Last night almost made you forget you had two additional holes in your body.

You poke your head into the kitchen and smile cheekily.

"Good morning sunshine. Whatcha making there?" You hum, waltzing over to stand behind your girlfriend.

You don't see her face but you can tell she's pouting. Her shoulders tight, fists balled at her sides.

"The bagel burned." She says, letting out a tiny huff.

You peer over her to see 4 halves of a bagel burnt to a crisp, sitting sadly at the feet of the table.

"I can see that." You chuckle. She turns around quickly, big frown on her face.

"It's not funny. This has never happened before." She whines.

"It's a little funny. I mean, who would've thought an amazing chef like you would burn some plain ol bagels?" You tease, tilting your face down to press a kiss to her hair.

She pinches your sides a little too hard in warning.

"Okay, okay! Come on, I'll do the bagels. The bacon smells amazing though, you should go check up on those." You suggest, watching Tara brighten up at your praise comically fast.

You can almost see the imaginary lightbulb spark above her head.

"Yes. That's what I'll do." She grins, sauntering over to her bacon and eggs. She turns back quickly as if she just remembered something.

"But not because you told me to." She says, a mischievous grin on her lips. You roll your eyes but nod nonetheless.

She picks up her phone from the counter, presses play on a song.

It fits the energy nicely. Sort of slow, sort of upbeat. It's very romantic though.

She senses it too, you can tell by the way she snakes her hand around your waist and pulls you closer for a dance.

It might look a little silly from an outsider's perspective, you'll admit that, but it fills you with warmth.

It's times like these you want to use those cringy words couples are always describing their feelings with. You feel fuzzy. You want to forget about everything else in the world and focus on her.

"Tsk. tsk. Lovebirds, outta the way, I'm starving!" Mindy exclaims, popping out from god knows where. You frown a little at the intrusion.

She hurries over to the fridge, grabs a stray piece of bacon on her way there; earning her a light slap from Tara.

She rummages through the fridge, moving things left and right and out and in again.

"What's got you so excited?" Tara asks, sharing a look with you. Mindy doesn't turn as she answers.

"Not excited, I'm getting prepared. Can't defeat Ghostface with an empty stomach, can I?" She replies jokingly.

It's enough to ruin the mood. It makes you remember it's not just you and Tara in this world, and absolutely nothing is currently fine.

You straighten, clear your throat. Then turn to Tara, hoping you can still pretend to live in the moment.

"Shall we have breakfast, m'lady?" You ask, bowing dramatically.

You can tell it doesn't work. Tara's eyes darken again.

"Yeah...yeah. Let's." She says, sending you a small smile and pulling out your chair for you.

You squeeze her hand three times and try to send her a secret signal. She smiles a little, returning with three squeezes of her own.

-

You're quiet most of the ride to your apartment. The seven of you are crammed into Sam's little SUV; knees pressed together uncomfortably.

"What's the plan again?" You ask, trying to relieve some of the anxiety that's forming inside you with a distraction. The untimely news about your father had shaken you a bit, leaving you with no memory whatsoever of the plan the rest of the gang had made.

Tara's the one who answers you.

"We call Ghostface, get him to come to your apartment. You, me, Sam, and Chad will be waiting. Try to get him to fall for the trap, cage him up, shoot him and then we chop chop and pretend this never happened for the rest of our lives." She says simply, with all the chill of someone who's planning a holiday vacation.

When you get to the apartment, Sam equips herself with a net gun, the most important weapon; because she claims she's the only one who can use it. She's not wrong about that.

When she hands out the rest of the weapons to the group, you can tell she sees the hesitance on your face. You're tired. Not ready to fight.

The only weapon she gives you is a tiny pocket knife.

There's a trap set up right at the front door, and if all hell goes loose, there's a secret gun stashed in your bedroom.

You're not confident in the plan, not at all. There's way too much assuming what Ghostface will do when you all know he's a deranged psycho with a mind of his own.

By the time you get there, trap at the front door set, you're shaking. It's an unfortunate habit, really. You feel the dull ache in your stomach get worse with anxiety.

You're all standing smack dab in the middle of your living room. Nobody's relaxed enough to sit down.

Mindy, Ethan, Anika and Danny are situated together somewhere downstairs, in hiding. Ready to signal to you guys if they see anything suspicious.

You told them that you shouldn't split up, and safety was in numbers; but alas, the four of them had refused.

"Don't worry. We'll be safe." Ethan had said to you before he left, quickly following behind the other three with a skip in his steps.

Now, Tara inches closer to you, obviously sensing your turmoil. She grabs both your hands in hers and brings them up to her lips to kiss each of your knuckles. Her face is tight, determined.

"I'm gonna kill this fucker for what he did to you." She whispers, low enough for no one else but you to hear.

Normally, you'd laugh and quip back that she's way too tiny and weak for that, but the way she's looking at you; all mad and worked up sends shivers down your spine.

You open your mouth to tell her you'd happily do the same for her, but the indistinct sound of a phone ringing beats you to it.

Sam looks down at the contact and her expression turns unreadable. She sends all of you a final 'you ready?' look.

"Hello, Samantha." Comes the raspy voice out of Sam's phone.

"Hi." Sam grits out, grip so hard around the net gun that her knuckles turn white.

It's quiet for too long, almost like Ghostface is unsure of what to say. You raise an eyebrow internally.

Wasn't Ghostface supposed to be like super witty and stuff?

"Hey fuckface, would you mind telling us where you are? I'll show you mine if you show me yours." You say, voice light; sort of teasing. Tara grips your hand hard in support.

"Oh, YN...you didn't think I didn't know about your little plan did you?" Ghostface drawls and all four of you pale almost collectively.

"Plan? We just want to meet the fucker that wants to kill us," Sam says, eyes darting back and forth between your windows.

"Why don't you show yourself hm? Or are you too much of a pussy that you can't even fight me face to face?" She taunts, and you try to bite back the surprise on your face at her tone. She's serious, snarl on her face, fire evident in her eyes type of serious. It scares you a little.

What scares you even more is that you agree with her. There's something stirring deep in you, the feeling of ever losing Tara, the random uncalled DNA test, the fact that this fucker wants to take you away from her.

It's never going to happen.

You're about to open your mouth and bully the hell out of Ghostface when a loud shrill scream cuts you off.

You can feel the atmosphere change immediately.

It's not like your first night up on the roof with Tara now, you know what you're supposed to do. Or at least you kind of know.

You dart out the front door, leaping past the trap door you've made and practically sprint down the flights of stairs.

You can hear the three of them close behind you, footsteps hurried.

"Guys?" You call out.

There's a thumping sound and an animalistic groan. It makes you run even faster.

You round the corner to see Danny pressed up against a wall, Ghostface too close for comfort and thrashing wildly.

He's putting up a good fight, dodging and throwing in punches when he can; but it's clear who has the upper hand here.

"Hey, fuckface! Get away from my girlfriend's sister's boyfriend!" You yell, as loud as you can.

Damn, that's wordy.

You grip Ghostface's shoulders, using as much force as you can to squeeze and squeeze and squeeze in an attempt to try and pry him off Danny. You manage to throw him back, and quickly steady your feet as he tries to take a sloppy swing at you.

"Danny, where's the rest of them?" You question, looking around to see no sight of Ethan, Anika nor Mindy.

Ghostface surges at you again, and you dive to the side, kicking him in the side.

"I don't know, they just left." He says, sounding exasperated. You scrunch your eyebrows at his statement.

You see Sam behind Ghostface, ready with a beer bottle in her hand.

Huh, wonder where she got that.

She slams it down on his head hard, and Ghostface lets out a whimper. He swings madly at the both of you, not letting you approach. Then, he dashes out the lobby door before you guys can do anything.

You see the internal conflict in Sam's eyes. She wants to follow Ghostface, but she also wants to check up on Danny and his sort of worrying-looking wound.

"Stay with him. I'll follow Ghostface." You say, your tone authorative. You know she needs to hear it right now.

"Absolutely not." Tara pipes up, rushing up to you and putting her hands on your waist.

As if that was going to stop you.

You lean down quickly and press a kiss on her cheek.

"I have to go. Like right now. Or else we're going to lose him." You murmur, rub her back comfortingly. You can tell she's about to open her mouth and argue again, but Chad beats her to it.

"I'll go with her, don't worry Tara." He announces. He grabs you by the arm and urges you forward.

You mouth a quick 'love you' to Tara and run out the front lobby door, Chad in tow.

It's not hard at all to guess where the three of them could've gone. You notice the splatter of blood beneath your feet immediately; signal it to Chad.

"Holy shit." He whispers.

It's a lot. It has to be at least a gallon of blood, paving a clear way, hand prints and feet prints crazy and wild.

There's a spluttering sound to the left of you where the blood trail starts getting bigger and thicker. In big, random splotches till it stops right in front of a bush.

It would be a good hiding spot, if it weren't for the liquid painting everything crimson.

You round the big bush, weary; scared of what you might find. The pocket knife is pressed hard in your hand.

"Ethan?" You say as you see the brunette boy propped up against a wall, hiding behind the bush, hands pressed to a wound at his ribcage.

He looks extremely close to death. Like the grim reaper is five seconds away to coming and sucking the life out of him type of dead.

You don't waste a second. You rush over, fall to your knees, already feeling tears prick at your eyes.

"No no no, please." You murmur to no one in general, gripping and slapping at Ethan's shoulders, trying to get him awake.

His eyes are half-lidded, breath coming in in short sharp gasps.

You turn sharply, scream at Chad to get down here. You make him press at Ethan's wound further while you grab desperately at your shirt and ripping a piece off.

"YN." Ethan croaks, trying to get you to look at him.

There's no time, you can't. You can't let him go, not when you've just started to get to know him. Your closest friend, under you, bleeding out slowly.

There's no use trying to stop the tears now, tears stream down your face, blurring your vision.

You take the cloth in your hands and wrap it around his wound, tight, in hopes of stopping the bleeding.

It's too late, you all know it. He's already lost too much blood. He shakes a little and it makes you look up.

He's laughing.

He doesn't get to do it for very long, because blood is trickling out his mouth and choking him.

"Please, Ethan. I need you. Please don't go." You plead, taking his hand in yours and squeezing as hard as possible.

You feel the faintest squeeze before his hand falls entirely limp.

"I love you." He whispers, and then he closes his eyes. It looks almost peaceful, like he's falling asleep after a long day.

You're sobbing now. There's nothing holding you back, just pure carnal screams.

Chad sits, hands limp at his sides. Like he doesn't know what to do. He's crying too, you notice, but it's hard to see anything through your hazy vision.

You know they were close too, to the point where Chad was comfortable enough to introduce Ethan to the rest of the gang.

You feel hot, and the sadness switches to anger fast. You feel enraged.

You stand up, look both ways.

"Ghostface! Show yourself you fucker, or I'm going to hunt you down and gut you myself." You yell, hands gripping the pocket knife so hard the handle sinks between your fingers a little.

Immediately you hear something coming from the back of you. You're knocked back and stumble onto the pavement, a blur of black and white on top of you.

Your heart picks up till you feel like it might explode. Ghostface's taking your arms and placing them above your head, trying to stop you from moving.

You scream as he takes his knife and slices open the wound on your stomach once again, not too deep for it to be fatal; but enough for you to feel like you want to die.

He gets knocked over by Chad, who's standing arms flexed and ready for more fighting if necessary.

You roll over, get as close to Ghostface as you can, and try to sink the pocket knife into his chest.

You hit something hard and furrow your brows, trying with all your might to press down so you can finally kill the fucker.

He's wearing a bulletproof vest, you realize all at once, and try to change the directions of your knife.

It's too late, because he's recovering already. Ghostface reaches down to grab at your shoulder wound. You hiss, retracting immediately at the pain.

He takes that opportunity to get up and flee, but not before aiming a knife to Chad and throwing, ninja style.

"Yeah, flee you pathetic coward." You growl, taking Chad's extended hand and getting up.

"Guys?" You hear Sam call out, somewhere somewhat close.

"We're over here!" Chad yells out, and it takes only moments before you see the three of them running towards you; faces distraught.

Sam and Danny slow down halfway when they see that there's no immediate danger, but Tara picks up her pace, rushing towards you and all but flings herself into your arms.

You wince, but hold her tight.

She pulls back when she feels the thick sticky liquid painting her own shirt red. Her hands dart to cup your face, deep frown on her lips.

"You got hurt again." And her voice cracks as if she might cry.

"I'm okay." You try and reassure, tilting your face and kissing her hard.

You pull back, too quick for her liking.

"Ethan." You mumble, suddenly feeling weak in the knees.

"Ethan what?" She asks, trying to wipe the blood off your face.

"He's dead." Chad answers, voice hollow.

Tara's face changes immediately. She knows how close you were with him.

"Oh baby, I'm sorry." She whispers, rubbing comforting circles at the top of your head. You bend down, bury yourself in the crook of her neck so she doesn't have to see you cry.

You sniff slightly.

"So like...what do we do with the body?" Danny pipes up.

"We'll call the police. No use calling the ambulance now." Sam answers, eyeing you while she says the second part of her sentence.

You don't react, trying to block out the noises around you and focus on Tara. You think you might break down if you don't.

"Where's Anika and Mindy?" Tara asks softly, moving her hands to rub at your back now.

"I don't know." You mumble, shake your head to affirm your statement.

No one says anything for a long moment, but everyone's thinking the same thing.

"You guys don't think...Anika and Mindy are the killers do you?" Chad asks, a little hesitant. He sounds in disbelief.

Sam moves to touch his bicep lightly, trying to offer him some comfort. He leans into her touch, shoulders sagged and defeated.

"We don't know," She says, "but we should find them. Before we make any assumptions. Tara, call YN an ambulance.  The rest of you follow me."

There's always a sense of authority in Sam's voice that makes you want to follow, want to believe in her.

Tara nods at her sister, and leads you onto the edge of a sidewalk where you can sit freely.

She walks away to call the ambulance, and you watch as the rest of them walk away; till their silhouettes look the size of an ant.

You turn your attention to the road in front of you, the busy city. Not a single person bats an eye your direction, and you wonder how not a single person had come to your aid when you were screaming for your life.

"God, I hate people." You say as Tara sits down beside you.

"Me too." She says with no hesitance. You turn your head to look at her.

You think you understand her trauma a little bit better now. You can't even imagine doing all this a second time.

Your girlfriend really was a special kind of person.

She smiles at you softly, and the lamps above you light her face nicely.

"We'll be okay." She says, and squeezes your hand three times.

You hum but don't say anything. Squeeze it back three times.

[twstfanblog]

So how’d Malleus grab his kids? Was his oldest fulfilling her dreams of being an evil tyrant dragon while her siblings were making sure that no one tries to kill her?

Evil Dad AU meeting story 3 unlocked! Let's go! (Psst. I have evil queen Vil's entire story already plotted through too)

Just for backstory, Silver pretends to be a righteous knight who travels the various kingdoms under Malleus's rule. He pretends to be loyal to the various human kingdoms to learn about the many plots they've got to kill Malleus. He doesn't ever find anything worthy of worry past the supposed 'Dragon Killing blade'. But Malleus and Lilia allow him to roam around because they think it's cute that Silver cares about Malleus's safety. But one Spring (When Silver comes back to the castle to visit his family) Silver is concerned and asks for an audience with Malleus. Malleus is very off-handed because he thinks it's just Silver being overly concerned about a new weapon that's suppose to kill him. Malleus: What is new? Silver: There is a bounty for a dragon- Malleus: Are they still trying to kill me? It was cute a few hundred years ago, but you'd assume they'd learn after the dead 'heroes' reached the dozens... Silver: Silver: It's not you this time…it was for another dragon…one that actually looks like you…but younger… Malleus: The Diasomnia crew all pack up and go off into the lands to find what could only be Malleus's child. There is only one person Malleus ever slept with so they all know what it means if this is his son. And Malleus would also hope this leads him back to Yuu. They find Malicent terrorizing a small village, this much smaller version of Malleus's dragon form jumping around and setting fires. After a few moments of them all cooing they work to catch this juvinelle. Surprisingly just when they're about to catch him, another dragon child appears. The teal dragon confuses them enough to give the two enough of a gape to escape into the woods, leaving the Diasomnia crew in stunned silence. They're all confused because how are there two!? Malleus only slept with one woman in the past hundred years so there should only be one Draconia child.

Lilia: Lilia: I mean…I've never seen it…but what's to say the egg didn't hatch two babies? Malleus: Malleus: I need to find that woman… They of course catch up and nearly catch them AGAIN. Only to have ANOTHER DRAGON to swoop in. Malgona standing over them and her brother's flanking her demanding they leave HER lands. Malleus is overjoyed, he barely even cares anymore about HOW and just wants his and Yuu's children to be taken back home with them. He completely steamrolls over them saying they don't really want to leave their lands and are constantly rejecting his claim on them. It ends on the triplets bolting in different directions making them spit to catch one triplet. And even with the home-field advantage, the triplets are caught and Malleus asks them where their mother so he can collect her as well. Malgona is very bitter at being beaten but tells him they haven't seen her for three years. She would have normally visited them in the winter to make sure they were doing well in the weather, but she didn't come back one winter. Malgona: We were fine though, we have each other and are strong enough to deal with whatever could challenge us...So you can leave. Malleus: Nonsense, you and your brother's are much too young to be on your own. Malicent: We're 13... Lilia, horrified: Oh lord, you're infants. Malgona: WE'RE 13!? Lilia: Infants Malleus: By fae standards, you children shouldn't even be away from your mother's embrace yet Malathew: We're not fae though? We're dragons. Malleus: SO, that's how Malleus realizes how Yuu never planned on returning to him because she didn't even tell their children their true heritage. So into his arms they go, kicking and screaming, back to his empire and to be locked in the castle until he decides they're ready to go out into the world again.

[shubblelive]

— BLOWN IT

summary : so desperate to make wilbur’s first night at your apartment perfect, you take any hiccups as a sign of failure. too bad wilbur’s more than content just the way things are.

genre : fluff (angst if you squint really hard like, it's BARELY there i promise)

warnings : reader is described to be physically smaller than wilbur, reader has a tiny anxiety moment but they're okay

pairing : cc!wilbur soot x gn!reader

pronouns : they/them

featuring : cc!wilbur soot

requested : @mysticalsoot domestic sweet fic about all the first small moments reader

word count : 911

note : connor my love!! i couldn’t fit everything you asked into one fic in a way that i liked, but i hope you like this!! my wifi was down for maintenance so this took me a second because i’d rather die than write on my phone but i hope the wait is alright <333 mwah (also if you haven’t you need to go check out connor @mysticalsoot his boarding school au is so wonderful and he’s so lovely)

your bathroom lightbulb blew last week. you hadn't had the chance to replace it, and the second you left the bathroom it would disappear from your mind. you'd swear under your breath at night when you'd go in there to brush your teeth and wash your face, but other than that it never crossed your mind.

your house had been extensively cleaned, from the welcome mat being shaken out over your balcony (with a yelled apology to peter, the elderly man who lived below you), to the sections in between your couch cusions being vacuumed, and still you didn't remember the damn light globe until wilbur called out to you. "darling? your bulb's blown."

damn. you kept forgetting about it and now all that effort of making sure everything was perfect for the first time your boyfriend stayed over was out the window and onto peter's balcony along with month's worth of dust from your welcome mat.

"want me to run out and grab a new one?" you were sitting at the kitchen counter, working on your laptop, with wilbur ducking out of the bathroom to place a kiss on your head.

"no, no. you're alright, i'll go. you hang here and you can have your shower in just a sec." you stood up, wilbur's hand on your shoulder. you went to press your lips to his jaw as a quick goodbe, but his eyebrows furrowed.

"woah, woah, woah," he placed his other hand on your other shoulder. "why're you in such a rush? do i smell that bad?" he chuckled self-depricatingly, using his thumb to stroke the skin over your top.

you giggled, looking up at him. he had a stray curl hanging over his forehead, glasses perched on the top of his hair in anticipation for the shower he was about to take. "maybe just a little."

wilbur gasped, mock offended. "wow, i was going to ask my lovely partner if they'd come with me to buy a lightbulb for their bathroom and they made fun of me." he moved his hand to your side, trying to poke you.

"okay, i'm sorry!" you laughed. "will you come with me to the store?"

you watched as he pretended to consider your offer. your heart swelled up watching his over-dramatised thinking; index finger scratching on his chin, humming and ha-ing. "i guess i'll come with you, because i love you so very very much." a kiss was pressed to your nose before you even registered, wilbur grabbing your hand gently.

he, very graciously, let you drive to the shops, his hand wrapped around yours the entire time. it was nearing closing time, so the store was mostly empty. he’d typed out a little list on his phone on the way there, noting that you were running out of eggs, which were a key ingredient in the breakfast he was planning on making you as a thank you.

he dragged you around the store, his hand wrapped securely around yours. the low flickering light wasn’t doing you any favours you were certain, but it showed every hollow of wilbur’s face, completely enthralling you and stopping you from notice that wilbur had payed for your groceries and had now reached your car.

“you okay, lovely?” he asked, worried at your quietness. you nodded, sure of yourself, and his face softened. “what’s goin’ on?”

you took a somewhat shaky breath in before speaking. “i just wanted everything tonight to go smoothly. i wanted you to have as nice of a time at my house as i did at yours, i guess? it’s dumb.”

wilbur’s eyebrows shot up towards his abyss of curly hair hanging over his forehead. “that’s it?” you worried for a second that he had confirmed your anxieties. it was dumb. but you looked up at the man above you, his thumbs ghosting over both of your knuckles, small smile on his face pouring affection. “oh, lovely. i’ve been having the best time,” he said it so sincerely that you had no choice but to believe every word he said.

“i know it wasn’t what you expected we’d do,” you answered honestly. “still, i’m sorry.”

wilbur laughed. “i expected that i’d get to spend time with you. what are we doing right now?” he didn’t give you the chance to reply, instead speaking up again. “there’s only one thing i’d want do to,” his smile was so soft and earnest that you expected the kiss he went to plant on your lips. you were sorely mistaken, unfortunately, as he disconnected your hands and turned towards the shopping trolley. the two of you were almost alone in the carpark, which gave wilbur a lot of room to give the trolley a running start before jumping, lifting his feet off the ground and using the momentum to glide roughly across the gravel. he did that a few more times until he reached the trolley bay, you laughing in bemusement by the boot of your car. “all done!”

you gave him an exaggerated thumbs up, unable to stop the beaming smile on your face at the sight of him, and he started sprinting at full speed across the carpark towards you. he didn’t seem to have any intention of slowing down as he neared the car, but you refused to move, wanting him to chicken out.

he got right up in your face before he managed to stop himself, and then you got your kiss.

[momotonescreaming]

I've been having Steddie Dads & Surrogate Robin brainworms thanks to this ficlet by @unclewaynemunson so I had to write this quick thing. Hope you like it <3 EDIT - Now on AO3!

Eddie knew that there was a lot involved with surrogacy. As soon as it was on the table, a topic of discussion — Steve had dove head first into research, taking Eddie along with him. They’d be curled up in bed together, Steve flipping through a pile of pamphlets and magazine articles, with Eddie re-reading the hobbit next to him until Steve places a pamphlet between the pages of his book. Lazy afternoons spent in their living room, reading up on agencies, clinics, Eddie with his head on Steve’s shoulder so they can read together.

He knew there was going to be money spent, many many appointments made, trips to doctors and lawyers and other very boring, very adult, very important things.

What Eddie didn’t realise, was how much time was going to be spent standing in hallways, waiting for Robin to piss on a stick.

Each time made his heart clench, his hands shake, knowing that one little plus or minus was going to change the trajectory of his life forever. In a good way of course. Always a good way. Steve squeezed his hand, looking over at him with a nervous smile. Eddie squeezed back — the cool metal of his rings pressing into the warmth of Steve’s hand — and he thunked his head onto the wall behind him.

“Quit it!” Robin hollered, voice muffled through the bathroom door. “You’re making me nervous!”

“I thought you said you peed when you’re nervous?” Steve shouted back, tilting his head towards the door.

“Not when I’m nervous about peeing!” Robin replied, voice still raised and edged with anxiety. “So quit slamming the wall Eddie!”

“How’d you know it was me?” Eddie interrupted, brows furrowing. Robin ignored him and continued shouting through the door.

“It reminds me that you’re there, and you’re listening, and I get all nervous and I can’t pee-“ Robin started to ramble, words merging together as her voice sped up. “-because I know you’re there listening which I know is the point of this whole exercise. But there’s a lot riding on this, riding on me, and then I start thinking about how big this is for you guys — and also for me again — and what if my eggs don’t work? Or I’m a bad surrogate? And then I get even more nervous because I really want to do this for you guys! You two deserve to be dads, and you’re going to be so good at it, which we won’t know unless I can pee Goddamnit.”

Her words ran out, and Eddie could picture her taking a deep breath as she leant on her knees, hunched over her body. He smiled faintly, and thumped his head onto Steve’s shoulder — knowing Robin would shout if she could hear him thump the wall again. A part of him was tempted to — to see what she would shout through the door again — but he couldn’t do that to her now. Not when she was doing so much for them. So Eddie took a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scent of Steve’s cologne and their laundry detergent, letting it calm him as he gently starts rubbing his thumb across the back Steve’s hand.

“Deep breaths, Rob,” Steve said, voice warm and comforting. “You’ve got this.” A pause. “Need me to come in?”

“Maybe?” Robin says quietly, unsure, before quickly correcting herself. “No. Wait- no. I got this. I’ll run the tap and pretend you’re not there.”

“Just yell if you need us,” Eddie added, hoping Robin can hear him over the sound of the now running water. He tries not to think about it too much, make himself too nervous, or too aware that he was just standing in a hallway waiting for Robin to piss on a stick. Of course it wasn’t just any stick.

The three of them have done this a few times now, and it still hasn’t stopped feeling any less nerve wracking. So Eddie takes another deep breath, and lets his eyes glaze over the pictures and paintings Robin’s hung on her walls to distract himself.

There are a lot of photos of her and Steve from throughout the years, and Eddie smiles at the sight. Them in their Family Video vests, back in Hawkins. At a family BBQ in the Buckley’s backyard, hung next to a painting of a horse she got in an estate sale. One from their first apartment in Chicago. The pair of them at Robin’s college graduation.

A photo with Erica and Dustin as well — the infamous Scoops Troop — all of them eating ice cream together. A couple with her and Eddie, smiling and pulling faces at Steve behind the camera, next to a painting that Robin got at a thrift store because the Victorian lady in it looked like ‘a funky old lesbian, but in a haunted sort of way’. Steve had just said it looked sort of like his Grandmother, and Robin had snorted soda up her nose.

They had decided to do the test at Robin’s apartment, in a futile attempt to make her more comfortable. Or at the very least — less nervous than last time, where Robin had locked herself in their hall bathroom and made them go watch TV until she was done. It was negative.

Eddie closed his eyes. The waiting was the worst. The absolute fucking worst. Knowing that one mark on a piece of plastic was going to tell him if he and Steve were one step closer to becoming parents. Becoming dads. And all he could do was wait.

He was both eager for and dreading the answer. He wanted to be a dad, to give Steve his six little nuggets, to raise a family with him. But at the same time he was terrified of turning into his father. A no good piece of shit who was never fit to raise a kid. Steve had talked him down, calmed him, the first time he had a panic attack about it.

It was after their first appointment at the clinic, and he had held Eddie’s hand and had admitted that he was scared too. Scared of turning into his father. To sympathise, not to dismiss Eddie’s fears. It had helped, listening to Steve’s steady breathing and soft voice as he talked about how it was a good thing they were both scared. Means they don’t want to be the sort of men their fathers were. Steve didn’t think his father was worried about neglecting him, he just sort of did it y’know? Eddie had snorted, blinked away his tears, and had admitted that Steve was right. Steve said of course he was, because he knew that Eddie won’t turn into his father. He’s going to turn out like Wayne.

Eddie had cried then, and he could feel his eyes starting to go misty now, standing in Robin’s hallways with Steve’s hand in his. He tries to blink away the tears that were threatening to fall, but Eddie doesn’t think he’s that successful. He knows he’s definitely unsuccessful when he feels Steve gently kiss the top of his head, lips pressing against his curls.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed when they hear the click of the door opening, Robin stepping out into the hall with her hands behind her back. Eddie can feel his throat tighten, and sort of feels like he’s going to puke. Oh God, this is it. Steve tightens his grip on Eddie’s hand, and they both whip their heads around to look at her. Robin’s face is unreadable as she looks down at her feet, and then up to them.

There’s a glint in her eyes now, a certain twist in the corner of her mouth, and Eddie can hear Steve’s breath hitch. She reaches behind her back, and holds the pregnancy test out in front of them. Their eyes are drawn to it like a magnet, desperate, eager, searching.

Eddie looks for the small screen on the side of the test and finds himself staring at a small, red, plus. His gaze snaps to Robin’s, eyes wide, and she’s biting her lips now, holding back the grin that threatens to take over her face.

He looks over at Steve only to find him looking back, his own eyes now glistening with unshed tears. Neither of them say anything as they look back at Robin. Not yet. It feels like as soon as they say anything, verbalise it, make it real, it’s going to hit Eddie like a truck. So he sits in the quiet of the moment, tearing up, Steve’s hand gripped tightly in his.

Robin’s voice is soft and low as she speaks, breaks the silence. “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant,” Steve repeats in awe, almost reverential. His eyes shine as a stray tear falls. “Holy shit.”

“I’m pregnant!” She repeats, louder this time, no longer holding back a smile but grinning at them widely. Gripping the pregnancy test in her hands, she starts to jump and rock in place. As if her excitement is an itch under her skin she can’t get out. “It worked!”

Eddie hasn’t said anything, he doesn’t know how to. He know’s he’s standing there looking gormless, doe eyed and teary, mouth agape. It doesn’t seem real. It finally worked. Robin is pregnant and it’s theirs. He whispers. “You’re pregnant.” Then again, louder, as if repeating the words would make it more real. “You’re fucking pregnant!”

“We’re having a baby!” Steve says, words dripping with excitement and awe and almost disbelief. He lets go of Eddie’s hand, but before he can miss it’s presence Steve is throwing his arms around both him and Robin, drawing them in close.

Eddie’s really crying now, tears coming out in a flood and he can’t stop them. Above all else, above the fear and the anxiety and the weight of his father — he’s happy. He’s so fucking happy. Steve’s shirt is dampening with Eddie’s tears, and he can hear Robin sniffling herself. If they’re not careful, they’ll spend the whole evening crying in the hall. He leans over to place a wet smacking kiss on Robin’s cheek, and then turns to Steve to give him the same.

Steve turns at the last second, capturing his lips with his own. And then they’re kissing, and they’re crying, smiling through it all with Robin still trapped in a hug. She doesn’t seem to mind, laughing all the while, clutching the test in her hands like it’s made of gold. Steve pulls back from the kiss with a wet pop, and Robin beams through her own tears as Steve buries his face in her neck.

“Thank you,” Steve whispers, loud enough for them all to hear. “For doing this for us.”

“It’s an honour,” Robin replies, words honey sweet and oh so happy. She smiles at them, sniffling. “But if you think I’m not going to milk this for all it’s worth, you’re wrong.”

Eddie throws his head back and cackles.

[leviathans-watching]

when they (try to) surprise you

includes: the brothers x/& gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: .5k | rated g | m.list

a/n: i meant to fill a req but my computer updating threw a wrench in those plans lol, so you get this, which i wrote on my phone

please like and reblog!

already beginning to take off your coat, you walk through the door, glad to be home early. it’s not often that your classes get canceled, but when they do, it’s definitely nice.

immediately, noise coming from the kitchen stops you in your tracks. it sounds like several, if not all, of the brothers are in there, talking over one another and banging things around.

it’s even weirder that it doesn’t sound like they’re fighting.

why would they be in the kitchen, and by the sound of it, working together on something?

quietly, you creep towards the kitchen. once you can finally see in, you stifle a gasp. it’s a complete mess! it seems like every mixing bowl is out on the counter, and flour dusts practically every flat surface. there’s also a smear of something—raw egg, maybe—across the fridge. how did that even get there?

“what in the world are you guys doing?” you ask, and they all jump, turning to face you with a mix of surprise and guilt written across their faces. hastily, asmo tries to hide a bowl behind his back, but you can totally still see it.

“mc!” beel chuckles nervously. “what are you doing home? i thought you had a class.”

“i did,” you say slowly, still completely astonished by the mess, “but it was canceled.”

“that must have been nice,” lucifer says conversationally, and you level him with a look.

“it was, until i came home and found this mess i’ll have to clean up.”

“you’re not going to have to clean up!” satan says quickly.

“yeah, this is our mess,” mammon agrees.

“that’s never stopped you before,” you reply, long-suffering. “now again, what are you doing? and don’t try to lie.”

they all exchange looks before levi sighs. “well, we were trying to bake me a cake.”

“a cake?” you say, surprised. “why?”

“there wasn’t really a reason,” mammon says, scuffing his shoe across the tile, “we just wanted to. and thought ‘how hard can it be?’”

“but it turned out to be pretty hard,” belphie cuts in. “so obviously we had a lot of mistakes.”

“so all of this is because you wanted to bake me a cake? which you wanted to do just because?” you ask, wondering how many years they’re taken off of your life. but you’re also sort of touched. they’d wanted to do something nice for you just because!

“look,” you say, “i’ll pretend i never saw this and go upstairs. once that cake is done and everything is cleaned up, you can come get me.”

“deal,” satan says.

“oh, and before i forget,” you continue, “thank you all. i’m sorry i ruined the surprise.”

“yeah, yeah,” mammon says, flapping his hand. “now get away, we’ve gotta finish up in here.”

“i’m going!” you huff, unable to stop your smile. they, upon seeing it, can’t help but sport smiles of their own, and when you go up the stairs, your heart feels fuller than normal.

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

[quitealotofsodapop]

Hmm, I somehow can imagine Macaque in JTTW Stone Egg au eventually asking the Pilgrims with help getting back in Wukong's good graces. Like, it would take a long tike since A) these are Wukong's friends first and foremost and they definitely started off rocky and B) Macaque od stubbornness his own way and would be too prideful to ask for help trying to rizz up his own mate! But I can also see Wukong being the sort of person to continue to push him away even after he's forgiven Macaque and is too scared to let him close despite clearly wanting to apend tolime with him. He is very much acting like a tsundere throughout and has long since gotten to the point where he should have been able to just give an inch but is too pigheaded to.

And by that point the pilgrim will definitely see this and start an intervention now that it's safe to do so. Ao Lie would join in mainly because he wants to make Wukogn happy since he still isn't the most thrilled about Macaque, Baije because he's tired of the flirting, Wujing because he genuinely wants to help, and Tripitaka kinda got dragged onto it

Immediate "Parent Trap" shenannigans ensue!

Mac goes to the Pilgrims for advice/help after a particualrly bad arguement with Wukong for help regarding how to make it up to him.

Ao Lie is a hopeless romantic, so he'd be the first to jump and help Mac with "re-wooing" Wukong despite his own protective "big-brother" vibe. He ultimately wants Wukong to be happy and reunited with his mate. However, Ao Lie has to be told *not* to take off with both monkeys on his back for a kidnapping/surprise horse-ride date.

Sha Wujing is far smoother, and is the one to organise a quiet area for the two monkeys to have a date/casual alone time together. He's pretty bad at being subtle about it though - he def makes an audible winking sound when he pretends to be busy with something to leave "you two crazy kids" alone.

Zhu Bajie ain't helping. Nope. Nada. Now eat this plate of noodles.

Bajie does give Mac a decent set of advice regarding how Wukong likely feels after all this time + solid understanding for why they broke up in the first place. He works best as a passive supporter.

It takes Tripitaka a while to agree to help Mac with anything deeper than making sure him and Wukong don't claw eachother apart like cats. He covers his ears and mantras the second Mac brings up the topic of romance.

Even with all this help, Mac is still super stubborn/nervous about showing his most vulnerable side again. Wukong is perplexed by his former mate's stumbling and stand-offishness.

A big confession/confrontation occurs during the Sai Tai Sui chapter - in which Wukong glamours himself into the stolen Queen that the monster lusts after.

Sai Tai Sui gets a but too handsy and Macaque drops any pretense of tsundere-ness and yells; "HEY! HANDS OFF MY MATE!" and mauls the Celestial Beast to the point that Guanyin has to intervene since the beast is technically her pet.

Wukong looks relieved, adoring, and... smug?

Macaque: "Peaches, why did you put yourself in danger like that?! The pig could have turned into the Queen!" Wukong, smug smile: "Juweihuli was right." Macaque: "Huh?" Wukong: "Your mentor was right. She said that you have a terrible jealous streak over me - even when we were apart. The second that monster even looked at me, I knew you wouldn't stand for it." Macaque: "...you went to the Vixen for advice? About me??" Wukong: "Of course! I still have a lot to learn about the Macaque of now compared to the one I knew 500 years ago. I want to get to know you all over again. Sorry if it was a little reckless." Macaque: *heart-eyes and purring sounds* (♡〰♡) (meanwhile...) The Buddha (observing for afar): "I declare this a win for me."

It's not a one-way wooing thats for sure.

[jubileemon]

Helluva Boss: The Controversy Around Stella's Character

After "The Circus" premiered, there was a decent amount of controversy regarding her portrayal. There are a decent number of fans who were upset that Stella is portrayed as the bad guy in Stolas' marriage. This is mainly due to people hating Stolas because he cheated, not caring that Stella abused him for their entire marriage and made him miserable. Others aren't as mad, but wish Stella had more personality.

While others aren't as mad, some people wish Stella had more personality. Another group knows that Stella was always evil due to her prior appearances and were expecting something like this.

Stella Goetia's malevolent nature was evident from her youth, as depicted in a disturbing photograph where she is seen strangling her pet dogs. This early sign of cruelty foreshadows the abusive tendencies that manifest in her adult life. If that picture was meant to endear Stolas to the prospect of marrying her, it suggests either that Paimon has no qualms about animal abuse or that said cruelty has become "normalized" in the Goetia household.

As it turns out, Stolas only married Stella because his father Paimon arranged it in the hopes that Stolas would father a powerful new addition to the family. As this episode shows, their marriage was absolutely miserable, to the point that Stella threw parties about how they hadn't divorced yet and talks trash about him to her friends while he's in earshot. While Stella gossips with her friends, she tells them how terrible in bed Stolas was, and how he just blankly stared at the ceiling while she did all of the work. She then gloats how happy she was that at least an egg popped out of her so she didn't have to pretend like she wanted to have sex with Stolas, but all Stolas can do is glower and order something stronger than wine to calm himself.

Special mention to the part where Stella merely refers to Octavia as "an egg", further hinting at the neglectful nature of Stella's relationship to her own daughter at best and viewing her as little more than a necessity to the family at worst.

For many years, she has belittled and humiliated Stolas. As for why Stella's still hanging around the mansion at this point, well, if her behavior at the parties in the past didn't make it clear, she likes to see him suffer. Her admission that she derives pleasure from tormenting her husband reveals her sadistic tendencies. Even when faced with the consequences of her actions, Stella's response is to threaten further aggression and leverage her status to intimidate. Even if their marriage was arranged and he wasn't at all happy, even if he only tried to preserve it for the sake of Octavia's home life, Stolas has had enough and demands a divorce.

Stella's reaction doesn't make it much better. Not only is she more upset about her stung pride than anything else, she takes a vicious satisfaction in pointing out that Stolas has pretty much ruined his own reputation by now, and that he'll be punished for it. She also moves to try to hit Stolas for demanding a divorce and standing up to her, the fact he catches her hand so quickly as she tries to slap him suggests that she likely has physically abused him before. In a drastic escalation of her vindictive behavior, Stella hires an assassin to murder Stolas, showing a callous indifference to the emotional trauma this could inflict on Octavia, especially at a time when father and daughter are mending their relationship.

Stella is also rather single-minded and short-sighted in her efforts to kill Stolas. She was willing to demand Striker to kill him over the phone with both her husband and daughter present at the family’s dinner table, not even being sneaky about it. In "Western Energy", her inability to grasp the consequences of her husband's potential assassination, as pointed out by her brother Andrealphus, suggests a lack of understanding of the ramifications of her actions. This raises questions about her awareness of the inheritance laws in Hell, which would see her daughter Octavia inherit everything, leaving Stella with nothing post-divorce.

Stella's reliance on her brother Andrealphus during critical moments, such as the divorce proceedings and the decision to call off a hit on her husband, indicates a dependency on external guidance for decision-making. Andrealphus appears to be the voice of reason, prompting speculation about whether Stella's actions are driven by emotional impulsivity rather than calculated intent.

Now that we know Stella hates being married to Stolas as much as he hates being married to her, why didn't she signed up for divorce as soon as Octavia was hatched? Stolas endured for the sake of Octavia having a normal life, but for what reason Stella stayed? It couldn't be for the prestige, since Stella using her brother as leverage against Stolas implies it's actually she the one with a higher ranked family. So my theory is that Stella's life was in the line unless she accepted to marry Stolas. Probably her family only saw her as an exchange piece in the game of power, and if she didn't play along until death do her apart from Stolas, it would be her the one to be disposed of.

It will explain why she's just so angry all the time and the reason why she resents, belittles and abuses Stolas: she sees him as the reason of her own imprisonment in this unwanted marriage. And before someone says it's too much of a stretch, remember this is Hell. If she can contract a hitman on her husband within earshot of him and he doesn't bat an eye, who can tell nobles don't dispose of troublesome children that don't fall in line to the family's desires? After all, Paimon has a lot of kids, so the other families might as well; they have plenty of spares.

Stella is a cautionary tale about people being born into privilege who think their status allows them to get away with everything She'll genuinely believe that because she's a denizen of Hell who's born into royalty, Stella can get off with abusing Stolas scot-free.

[elizabethemerald]

Summoning the Cat: Part 3

Selina stared at her kitchen, her mind far flung from her appliances, though she was thinking about her home. She had felt so relieved to have Danny and Jazz safe in her penthouse. Now she was starting to see that having two teenagers in her life would result in some necessary changes. She only had one spare room in the penthouse and two kids who needed beds. 

The penthouse had been more than enough when it had been just her. She had the master bedroom, which she kept mostly clear of any evidence of her evening work so she could bring home partners if she wanted to. Unless her partner of choice was the Bat, then half the fun was stripping out of her catsuit in front of him, not that he would be getting anything like that in a long while, even after he pulls his head from his fantastic ass.

Technically the floor plan of the penthouse stated that there were three bedrooms, including the master, but one of them was now a dedicated “office,” where she kept all her tools for her after hours work.  The last was only a comfortable bedroom because of the frequency that Harley and Ivy stayed over. She had thankfully changed the sheets since the last time they had spent the night. 

Danny and Jazz refused to be separated and had shared the bed together. She wondered how often the two kids had found what comfort and support they could with each other. She hated the Fentons even more for what they had done to her kids, and she hated Bruce for being such an uptight bitch. They would have been much more comfortable sleeping in Wayne Manor. 

Every time she had gone to check on the two kids one of them had been awake, while the other at least pretended to sleep. Danny would sit up, with his eyes shining in the dark, analyzing her for any threat, when he recognized her he would lay back down. Jazz would tense and press herself back against Danny, like she had to shield him with her body. Selina had kept her movements slow and obvious, her hands always visible and while Jazz didn’t visibly relax like Danny did she also didn’t do anything drastic like throw a lamp or roll Danny off the bed like she was expecting gunfire. 

How incredibly defensive the kids were of each other aside, even though Selina wanted nothing more than to sit them down and demand they tell her exactly what they had gone through to have reactions like that, but she didn’t want to make the same mistakes Bruce was making, the penthouse was too small for an adult and two teens. They deserved to have their own rooms even if they didn’t want to use them yet. 

Her kitchen was another shortcoming of the penthouse. Selina could cook and unlike Bruce she could actually cook well. She usually didn’t choose to do so, simply because she could afford to eat at the best restaurants and didn’t feel any need to do things she didn't want to, like dishes. However with two teenagers she would need something in her cupboards other than various fine alcohols. And the homebrew ales that Ivy made. 

Dick had brought numerous snack foods that considering how much had been eaten last night would probably only last a few days more. He had also brought several very sugary breakfast cereals, that Selina wasn’t sure was the healthiest for a vigilante, much less a teenage ghost boy. The man also hadn’t brought any milk? Did he expect them to eat the cereal dry? Or perhaps right out of the bag? How were so many of Bruce’s children such disasters? 

Fortunately there were people in the world who actually knew how to function as adults. Barbara had ordered groceries to be delivered to Selina’s penthouse and Jason had sent along some of his favorite easy recipes that made a lot of food. He had written in additional notes on the recipes that showed his personal experience with the dishes. She would start with a simple breakfast, eggs, pancakes and bacon. A celebratory, special meal then she could figure out what her kids liked and learn to make that. 

As she mixed the pancakes (Jason insisted that pancake mix was for children and bachelors) Selina idly considered her living situation. She could certainly afford a nice house in one of the better neighborhoods in Gotham. If the kids wanted she would even be willing to move out of the city completely, though that wouldn’t be her first choice. She could get a house with a yard, close to Gotham Academy so Danny could continue his school and Jazz could finish hers. Each of the kids could have their own room, and she could certainly afford a house with enough rooms for her, her kids and her equipment. 

She smiled to herself at a fun image of her and the kids watching a movie together, Pam and Harley there as well to keep an eye on the kids. They would also need room for the various bat children to come by, either just to visit or to get away from Bruce’s brooding. Actually that thought gave her pause. Her and the rest of the Sirens could pool their resources and get a larger house. Room for a gymnastics room for Harley, a green house for Pam, spare rooms for any special interests the kids had. That wasn’t a bad idea at all. Selina turned her head slightly at the sound of a door opening down the hall. 

“Good Morning Ms- Are you cooking?” Selina turned to see Jazz watching the stove warily. 

“Yep, I thought we could have some pancakes, bacon and eggs. Once I figure out your favorite breakfasts we can have those.” 

Jazz looked surprised and confused for a moment before taking a seat at the breakfast bar. 

“Do you need any help?” Jazz still watched her warily, actually she wasn’t watching Selina, she was watching the food as if she expected it to explode or attack. 

“No, I’ve got it. Thank you though Jazz.” Selina gave her a warm smile. 

There was a few seconds of silence as Jazz just watched her cook before she seemed to shake herself and focus. 

“Uh, Ms. Kyle, can I talk to you about something?” 

“Of course, Jazz. And you can call me Selina too.”

Jazz processed that for a second before she continued. 

“Selina, Danny is probably going to come out and ask you something when he fully wakes up, and while I kind of think it’s an unhealthy coping mechanism, I still think it might be a good idea.” 

Selina considered that for a moment before plating the eggs and bacon and some of the finished pancakes. She handed one plate to Jazz, made herself a plate, and set some aside to stay warm for Danny. She leaned against the counter opposite where Jazz sat. 

“Could you expand on that?” 

Jazz’s jaw ticked to the side and she looked down at her food. She closely examined the eggs and bacon for a moment before she took a cautious bite. The bite seemed to be satisfactory so she continued eating. She explained in between bites of food. 

“I know we haven’t explained everything about what Danny and I went through, and we haven’t explained everything about what ghosts are or how they function. I'll leave that part of the discussion mostly to Danny since he knows the most, but one of the most important parts of a ghost is their obsession.” 

Selina was a little confused by the sudden change in topic, but she let Jazz continue. It was clear the girl was carefully weighing her words as she spoke. Selina was starting to realize she had a super powered ghost son and a traumatized older sister/therapist daughter. She doubted parenting books covered these kinds of topics. Maybe she would call Alfred or Ma and Pa Kent to see if they had any advice for the situation. 

“Every ghost has their obsession. It’s kind of a personal topic, so Danny probably won’t discuss it too in depth, and I won’t out his obsessions without his permission, but it can be anything from books to music to boxes.” Boxes? Selina didn’t ask, but she was curious. “And that doesn’t translate directly to humans, but it’s how Danny has started to see things in his life, so it’s important to bring up.” 

Jazz had finished eating and was now just moving the remaining food around on her plate. 

“From Danny’s perspective, our parents, or I guess, my parents’ obsession was and is Ghosts. Specifically hunting and exterminating ghosts.” Jazz held her utensils with a white knuckled grip, her eyes still firmly on her plate. “They’ve had that obsession for our entire lives, they would forget our birthdays, or even to feed us if something ghost related came up. They moved us half way across the country to Amity because it was a hotbed of ghost activity.”

“When we were younger we just accepted that our parents were a little crazy and we took care of each other. Danny would always make me the nicest cards for my birthday each year.” Jazz had a tear in her eye at that. Selina moved around the counter so she could sit next to her and rubbed her back gently. “After Danny’s accident, so much of their obsession became about hurting him. They wanted to take him apart, molecule by molecule.” 

Selina kept her emotions off her face as she kept gently rubbing Jazz’s back and shoulders. However, inside she was boiling with rage. 

“I think in Danny’s mind he blames himself for how our parents acted when he became a half-ghost. He thinks if he had fed into Jack and Maddie’s obsessions they wouldn’t want to hurt him. That’s how he helps the ghosts who came to town, he could help them feed their obsessions and redirect them away from harmful avenues. Do you understand so far?” 

 “Yes I do.” Selina nodded. “Ghosts have obsessions. Your parents were unhealthily obsessed with ghosts to the detriment of both of you. Is this related to the unhealthy coping mechanism you mentioned?” 

Jazz nodded and finally looked up at Selina, eyeing her carefully. Whatever she was looking for in her face, Jazz seemed to find, because she continued, now more hesitantly. 

“So, from Danny’s perspective, your obsession is being a master thief, or maybe cats.” Jazz leaned back from her slightly as if she was afraid Selina might react poorly to that statement. However Selina could only smile in return. She could certainly see why Danny might see things that way. When she didn’t react badly Jazz continued. “I think Danny is afraid that if he doesn’t take part in your obsession with you, you’ll reject him just like my parents did.” 

Selina felt like she had been slapped. Danny was afraid she would reject him. He thought he had to be a thief to impress her. Jazz clearly feared or at least considered the same thing. She took a moment to gather herself before she responded, her voice choked. 

“He wants to become a thief like me?” 

Jazz nodded then began speaking very quickly, clearly trying to convince Selina that this was the best course of action. 

“While I don’t think that’s the healthiest way to look at your relationship, I do still think there are benefits. The athleticism you are known to utilize in your work would help keep him healthier as well as give him the skills to dodge attacks when he’s Phantom. It would also give the two of you time together, mother and son, a shared hobby is an excellent conversation starter. And! And-”

“Jasmine.” Selina said her name softly, so she wouldn’t startle the poor girl. “That sounds like a brilliant idea. You and I can work together to set safe limits for Danny, to make sure he has a proper balance between the hero work he’s done in the past, the after hours work he does with me and his “normal” life. How does that sound?” 

Jazz smiled in relief and her whole body seemed to sag in relief. 

“Yeah. That sounds good. Before when we were in Amity, he would have to fight ghosts at all hours of the day or night. He wasn’t getting nearly enough sleep. Balance is good. Especially a balance with his ghost powers. If he uses them too much it can exhaust him and risk attracting ghost hunters, but if he doesn’t use them he can hurt himself.” 

Selina smiled, she was definitely going to have to give the Kents a call. They would have some good advice. 

“What about you, Jazz?” Selina asked, Jazz looked at her confused so Selina explained her question. “Danny and I could have a mother-son activity learning to be a thief together. Would you like to join us?”

“Oh! Oh no. I want to be a therapist, and I don’t think it would look good if I had a criminal record like that.” Jazz didn’t seem disappointed to not be a thief and she had relaxed now that Danny’s mental and physical health had been discussed. 

“Oh, well how about this then? You pick something you like to do, any hobby or activity, could be knitting, yoga, gymnastic, competitive hot dog eating, anything, and you and I can learn about that thing together?” 

Jazz just looked more confused. 

“Competitive hot dog-? Why would you want to do that with me?” 

Concern blossomed in Selina’s chest at the same moment her rage was fanned into an inferno. Jasmine looked genuinely baffled by the idea that Selina would want to spend time with her. If she ever met the people who had raised her she would tear them limb from limb. 

“I want to spend time with you. And with Danny. Individually and all together.” Selina decided for clarity’s sake she would spell out her desires explicitly. “Danny is my son and I would like to make that official again as soon as I can. I would like that for you as well.” 

“But I’m almost eighteen?” 

“Being my child isn’t something that ends when you’re an adult. I wouldn’t kick Danny out when he turned eighteen, and I won’t do it to you either. You don’t have to call me mom, or mother or anything other than Selina. You don’t even have to think of me as your mother. But I do want to be there for you. I want to be able to care for you. I want a relationship with you.”

Jazz’s confusion was slowly morphing into distress. The girl was running her nails up and down her legs almost hard enough to rip the fabric of her pants. She was certain Jazz would have scratches all the way up and down her legs. Selina carefully contained her grimace. She needed to talk to Harley about finding these kids a therapist ASAP. And maybe one for herself wouldn’t go amiss, at least until her murderous impulses subsided. 

“If it’s too hard to think about it like that, for now, how about you think of it as me paying a debt. You took care of my son. Protected him, fed him, practically raised him.” Jazz nodded to confirm her assumption. “I owe you for doing so much for my son. And I would like to pay you back anyway I can. If that means paying for your student loans for an Ivy League school, or if it means learning underwater basket weaving by your side. I’m ok with whatever.” 

Jazz now finally looked relieved and understanding, though there was still a little confusion on her face. 

“That sounds fun. I’ll put together a list for you. Though where do you come with these examples? Hot dog eating? Basket weaving?” 

“I have a lot of weird friends.” Selina said with a laugh. “And various bat children that are flying around Gotham can be even weirder.” 

Jazz laughed now, then she tilted her head to the side, her head cocked as she listened to something Selina couldn’t hear. She mentally filed that information away that apparently Jasmine had some similar ghostly abilities to Danny. 

“Danny’s awake now. He’ll probably be out in a few minutes.” Jazz said. 

Selina nodded and stood before returning to the stove. 

“Well then let’s make sure he has some fresh pancakes. I’ll also reheat the eggs and bacon for him.” 

Jazz smiled at her and only a few minutes later Danny emerged. He obviously wasn’t a morning person and looked only barely functional. 

“Good morning Jazz. Good morning Ms.- Are you cooking?” Danny asked, his sleepiness fading quickly before the apparent threat of someone cooking. 

“Yes I am. Jazz and I already ate breakfast, but I want to make you some as well.” 

“Do you need any help?” Danny was just as earnest as Jazz had been. Selina added, ‘parents were unsafe in the kitchen’ to her mental list of shit the Fentons had done to traumatize her kids. 

“No, I’ve got it, thank you for offering though. You can have a seat. Your pancakes are almost done.” 

Danny took a seat next to Jazz and hugged her before stealing a last bit of bacon off her plate with a grin. 

“Ms. Kyle?”

Selina fought down a grin at how similar the siblings were. She turned to face Danny. 

“You can call me Selina, Danny.” He smiled at her sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Was there something you wanted to talk about?”

“Uh, yeah. I was wondering if I could be a super cool cat thief like you?” There were stars shining in Danny’s eyes as he asked, but there was also underneath the excitement a level of trepidation she would have expected of someone disarming a bomb. 

Selina was glad Jazz had warned her that this conversation was coming. She didn’t know if she would have been thrilled or horrified about Danny’s desire to join what he considered the “family business,” but now she had exactly the thing to say. 

“That sounds like a great idea. I’ve always wanted an apprentice.” Selina said warmly. “We can work together to figure out a schedule that allows for a good school, home life and work balance. How does that sound?”

Danny gave a playful groan and shoved Jazz, a large smile on his face. His playfulness hid his relief at her acceptance. 

“What is it with people and trying to get me to balance things!” 

“It’s just what people who care about you do.” Selina said, keeping her voice light even as she sent Jazz a commiserating look. Then she pulled a pad of paper out of one of the drawers and tossed pens to the kids while distributing sheets of paper. “How about this? Each of us right down a list of fun hobbies. Things we really like, things we’ve never been able to try but always wanted to do. And then we can explore some of these things together while I work on putting together your training.” 

“Like yoga, or a hot dog eating contest?” Jazz asked with a smirk. 

“Hot dog eating contest! That sounds like a great idea!” He immediately wrote that down on his list underneath several items that made it look like a trip to the planetarium was in their future. 

“Excellent. Here’s your breakfast, we can work on our lists while we eat, then we can discuss what we want to do next!” Selina said, gazing warmly as her kids filled in their lists. It looked like Jazz had written underwater basket weaving with a question mark next to it on her list along with a few other options. 

[idyllcy]

from one admirer to another : scrambled

pairing: leon kennedy x reader || masterpost: from one admirer to another

synopsis: from one admirer to another, an online penpal service, allows for two people with common interests to write to each other without ever revealing their actual address! Luckily for both you and Leon, you get matched up! What do eggs and Christmas even have in common anyway? sure hope it's that modeling business and NOT that Ada Wong addiction.

featuring: reader as scrambled eggs // leon as christmas

Dear scrambled eggs,

Thank you for that Ada print. It's going into my shrine (you were weird first, alright? Don't go calling me weird now.) and the fact that it's signed? crying screaming throwing up. Also, how dare you call yourself her day one? I was there when she first debuted you can NOT be more day one than me (joke).

I like my eggs in the form of shakshuka. If you haven't tried it before, you really should. It's delicious. It's basically eggs in tomato-based sauce with a ton of other spices and god it's so good I could just die. My favorite season... probably Thanksgiving. I know turkey gets pretty boring at times, but the cranberry sauce that my friends make is so good it's criminal. And, yes, I am unfortunately no different from you, but that's our secret, alright? I think I do an okay job of pretending to be normal at work.

Life updates... I had a shoot with a random model two weeks ago and I'm unable to get the way their hand felt on my bicep out of my head. I felt like a teenager all over again when they did. I'm not a teen anymore, and it's been a hot minute since I have been. Is this the curse of working with attractive people as a model? It was my first time seeing them, and the director didn't even refer to them by name, so my assumption is they don't do that many shoots. Maybe I'll be lucky and never see them again? Big day for losers in love (me). I'm kidding. I'm moving too fast. This'll be over in a couple of days. It's not like they're as hot as Ada— but they're pretty damn close. Got any advice for a loser who's just fallen in love at first sight?

Other than that run-in with the model, I got a couple of days off last week which I was supposed to enjoy, only to get absolutely obliterated by okaokra's newest chapter on glhf <3. Why am I an Ada stan who likes angst. Why am I cursed to love the way okra writes? I am not immune to the Ada brainrot or whatever the youth are saying these days. Every time I think of Ada I feel a little more like those twitter artist reaction memes of them biting wood.

The good thing about being only semi-well-known in the industry though is the fact that I can still sneak around at local events as a fan. It's nice that masks are so accessible nowadays. I'll be stopping by at the Ada-themed cupsleeve event in Raccoon in a couple of days, so I'll probably mail you a little something from that. So, if my letter finds you late, my apologies.

Oh, right, since we're on that topic. Merry Christmas, and happy new year.

See you around? Christmas

The cupsleeve event is relatively easy to sneak into for Leon. He puts on old glasses from college and a jacket that makes him look a lot younger than he really is, and he orders an Ada drink, grinning at the table on the side when he spots a familiar face.

"You're an Ada fan?"

You blink up at him, visibly surprised, and he takes a step back.

"Sorry, I thought you looked familiar—"

"No! I'm the same person. Yeah, I'm a big Ada fan. I'm running the event this time, actually. I model for spare money to host events like this." You scratch your cheek. "Wanna enter the lottery?"

"And what would I get?"

"A limited edition, signed, Ada photocard."

"What is this, Kpop? —take my ten." He hands you a bill nearly immediately, and the two girls at the table with you jump in their skin.

"Wow, you're down horrendous, huh?" You hand the ten to the girls, patting his shoulder. "How should I get the stuff to you? You have to leave a social or something."

"Mm..." He clicks in his twitter handle, and you blink slowly.

"Can I bid for it?"

"That was not the plan, but I mean—"

"You'd have to out-bid them." One of the girls get up to put their hands on your shoulders, and you scratch your cheek.

"How much did you pay for it?"

"The base price is two hundred dollars." You grin.

"Mm... and if I give you three hundred?"

"It's signed, so no."

"Shame." Leon clicks his tongue. "I would've paid good money for that photocard."

Leon turns his head at the sound of the door opening, eyes widening as Ada herself steps through the doors to her cupsleeve event. The people in the coffee shop yell as she does, too many people crowding around her to beg for a signed autograph on their cupsleeve.

"Guys, give her a little space." You call from the table.

The people ignore you, and you scoff.

"Do you need—" Leon's cut off by your actions instead.

You grab the megaphone on the table and nod at the workers, most of them covering their ears as you yell.

"CAN YOU GUYS GIVE HER SOME SPACE, PLEASE?"

The megaphone renders everyone quiet, and Ada laughs.

"I'll sign one by one at the table. Please let me sit first. I just finished a shoot." She waves thank you to everyone as she takes your seat, and you ask her if she needs anything to drink. Leon finds that it's almost as if you planned it, and as Ada meets eyes with him at the table, his heart flips.

She's literally so hot. He's going to pass out.

"Well, since you're here. Do you want a signed cupsleeve too?"

"Yes, please." Leon fumbles as he hands her his cup, looking for a pen, and Ada hums.

"It's good. I brought a sharpie."

"Can you sign my arm— wait, that would violate my contract." Leon purses his lips.

"Do you model?" She asks almost naturally, signature smooth on his plastic cup as she hands it back to him.

"I started just a little ago."

"Any major goals?"

Leon steps to the side to let the other fans get something signed. "I'd like to have a shoot with you one day."

"I look forward to seeing you at a shoot one day, then." She hums. "Who knows? Maybe we'll meet at a runway too. What's your name?"

"Leon. Leon Scott Kennedy."

Leon's heart flips into this throat, and his cheeks turn red.

God, he's going to pass out.

prev letter : masterlist : next letter

[factorialsotherfandoms]

Philza looks better in his usual clothes, Bad thinks, but still terrible. Perched on a lamp between his children's beds, a blanket pulled tight across his shoulders, sleep deprivation in his eyes... Bad is not really surprised he has called someone to speak to, just is confused as to why its him.

Bad has better things to do. Like look for the eggs. And search for the eggs. And interrogate Federation Workers about the eggs.

But then, Philza also has better things to do than just sit there and stare at him.

So Bad stares back.

Eventually, eventually, Philza breaks the stalemate and speaks.

"What do you know of dreams?"

Bad raises an eyebrow at the comment, unsure what that could lead to, and even more confused as to why it was him called here to handle this.

In the end, he settles for the simplest answer. "People have them when they sleep."

Philza hums in return, eyes skittering a little frantically. He adjusts his position to be a little higher, but holds himself lower, peering down, "… you know my wife, yes?"

Now there is a loaded question. Bad tilts his head to one side.

"Kristin."

"Yes," Bad answers, seeing no reason to hide it now. Part-time grim reaper, Goddess of Death... Of course her husband knows something. "I work for her, on occasion."

"And you would kill anyone - myself, yourself - if we were a threat to the eggs?"

"Yes."

"Even Skeppy?"

Bad's nose twitches, warning in his tone. "He's not /here/, Philza."

Philza gives Bad an unimpressed look.

"If he was /somehow/ a threat to Dapper? Yes. Happy?"

Somehow Philza looks like he both tenses and relaxes at that answer. He moves as though to sit on the lamp he is perching on, before realising what he is doing and slipping onto the mossy floor.

"I had a dream while I was asleep," Philza says instead of answering the question. "But, the longer I am awake, the less like a dream it seems."

"Dreams usually work the other way," Bad frowns, checking his evidence in his mind. He does not really know much - Philza was missing for nine days, claims to have been asleep and woke up in his basement, and a potato and a poppy appeared on his person in that time. Bad suspects the Federation has done something to the old crow, probably made him some sort of sleeper agent, but… If Philza is willing to trust him, Bad supposes he can give him the benefit of the doubt and assume any betrayal is unwilling.

"I remember it too well," Philza replies, and Bad frowns some more - it is the opposite reaction most people have to the Federation. "I don't usually remember my dreams, or have them that vivid, or have space so perfect in them. I laughed it off to Tubbo, pretended I usually have dreams like that, but… Even my dreams of my world are not as clear as that."

"And you were left with the potato and the poppy after," Bad keeps his voice level. He tries very hard to keep his voice level as his mind runs away, wondering what is up. "You don't usually wake up in the basement either?"

"I should wake up where I fall asleep," Philza points at the chair. "I sat down, I told myself I wouldn't spend a night anywhere else until the eggs were back. I dreamt. I woke up in the basement."

There's something a bit distant to Philza's voice which Bad does not like, but does not like in the way of children crying in their rooms, or the thought of Baghera alone in the Federation's hands, or the silence which now reigns over his dungeon-home. He does not like it in ways of betrayal and pain and fire, either, but he is old. He knows better how to deal with those.

"… Are you not going to ask me?" Philza asks.

"Do I need to?" Bad asks back.

It must be the correct answer, as Philza gives a laugh.

"In the maybe-dream, I woke up in the chair," Philza says, pointing towards it. "The trapdoor was gone - it might have been when I went to bed, too, but the memory is hazy."

Interesting, Bad would say. He half remembers the trap door being missing on Monday as well, when he went to check on Chayanne and Tallulah's beds, but in not paying attention… It was there by Saturday, so Bad really is not sure either if he made that up.

"I thought I heard a sound in the basement, so I went to look. There was a box with two new pot plants, one on each side. The box was… one of those new ones, like Toby has on his burnt up platform? The dyeable ones - it was Tallulah's purple. Inside were a lot of poppies, and a book."

"A book?"

"Right," Philza frowns as he talks, sinking deeper into the mossy floor. "I don't remember exactly what it said, but it was about an old crow whose children were missing. I thought… I think I thought it was Tallulah sassing me - you know how it is - for not being here when they hurt… At the end was an instruction to travel light, and a set of coordinates."

It sounds like a trap. Bad doesn't say that - he knows Philza must know that, but he also knows that if he saw something written maybe by Dapper… Bad wouldn't hesitate to do what it said. Not a chance, not when his child might need him. So, Bad doesn't say anything, he just nods.

"Do you know my nest?" Philza asks, almost out of the blue.

"Your nest?" Bad blinks, trying to string it together.

Philza is already moving for the nearby warp access. "I'll leave a red sharestone. If you walk to spawn, it'll be ready by the time you get there. You should probably have it, just… bring anyone else. Not even Dapper - the eggs bought Tubbo, but nobody else knows. It's our safe place. But… nowhere's really safe. And I can't always be there to save them."

It's a branch of trust that Bad has been offered, one he isn't sure he deserves but is absolutely not going to turn down. If Philza's children like it then, yes, he needs to know. In case they are ever hurt there, in case one of the children needs their uncle Bad.

He walks the shirt distance to spawn, chewing over so far. It's not hard to work out why Philza is in a spin, but Bad is missing some of the puzzle. He hates having half of an answer more than none at all, but at least he seems to be getting everything about /this/ question the old bird knows.

Sure enough, by the time he has worked out which of the sharestones Philza meant by the red one, there's another option just reading 'bad uppies?'.

It's kinda funny, and funnier still when he takes it and ends up… up. High in the sky, so high he can see the peaks of great pillars of stone, and the top of a fortress-dungeon, but not the floor.

"Take the warpstone," Philza gestures to the centre as he puts the sharestone away. "Just in case."

"Just in case," Bad repeats.

The warpstone is itself called 'uppies', and it is a nest that is not quite a nest. It is suspended in the air, not in a tree, and made of harsh stone not twigs. A few bits of furniture are scattered about, however, and a brightly coloured rug. Signs from the children learning new words, and a lip at the edge to stop anyone tripping to their demise. If Bad's timeline is correct about the word learning task, it must have been the last place Philza took his children before he left for a week - and they vanished.

"The coordinates were near here," Philza says, then pauses. "Not super close, but closer than anything else. About another thousand south, if you have your glider?"

"Not grapples?"

"I remember the exact route I took in the dream, not the numbers," Philza shrugs a little, smiles self-depreciatingly. "Never was any good with numbers or words. If I do it differently, we might not get there." Bad hums, and nods - to know the entire route in a dream? Very strange - and follows as Philza jumps from the southern edge. Follows him to one snowy peak.

"I stopped here to get my stamina back," Philza explains when Bad also lands. "I was in a rush for my eggs, but I know how bad that fall can be."

Bad nods again; they continue.

They land at the edge of some water and a village, then walk the rest of the way in silence. Philza's steps are very certain, too certain to have only walked it once in a dream and a second time guided by one, and Bad checks over his inventory.

Just in case it is a trap. He doesn't think Philza could fake this confusion enough to willingly lead him into a trap, but that only stops it happening if he knows what he's doing.

Philza leads Bad to a patch of hill where the trees are strangely cut. A couple of hummingbirds sit, tame, on the floor.

"There was a giant birdhouse here," Philza says. "It was cute - I remember thinking Chayanne and Tallulah had built it. Should really have noticed the windows were made of reinforced concrete," another, self-hating chuckle. "Inside… so many hummingbirds. And… And Chayanne's floaty, and Tallulah's hat. Next to them was a book. I explored a little, looking to see if the eggs, were there, before going back for it - 'A Cage for a Cage' the book read."

From Philza's flinch that means something - Bad isn't sure what, but he can make a few guesses.

"Then Cucurucho was behind me, laughing. I begged him, threatened him, asked for the eggs. But he just kept laughing as he ran out of the door. Sealed me in with reinforced something or other 'I hope you enjoy the island' my ass."

Philza seethes, and Bad expects him done. He still gives him a moment before asking, "and then you woke up?"

"No," Philza frowns further. "That's the strange part. I cried myself to sleep wrapped around their items. I dreamt… more like I usually dream - of my home, of my hardcore world, small glimpses. /Then/ I woke up. Still in the birdhouse. I knew it had been a long time, then, days at least - I was hungry despite all the golden apples. The hummingbirds were sat on me, but the book and the eggs' things? Gone."

Dreams inside dreams? A continuious narrative broken by another sleep? A walk remembered fully and that maps onto reality one to one? Bad can see why Philza is suspicious.

"The door was different, too, no longer a security door but this cute flower covered thing. When I opened it, it just… lead me out. And there was a path over… this way?" Philza leads Bad along, maybe a minute's walk through the trees at most.

"You remember in the nether there were the half destroyed Federation booths?"

Bad nods; he does.

"There was… kinda like one of those, just here. Two partial walls, a bit of a roof, some floor. A table with two chairs - Cucurucho at one, watching me. I screamed for him to give my eggs back. He gave me a book. It…" Philza takes a deep breath. "It teased me for falling for the trap so easily, then it told me I had to wake up - if I didn't wake up soon, I never would."

Dream fudgery, maybe? Bad already suspects memory alteration, so the Federation implanting dreams, or otherwise messing with them, is not impossible. Or, perhaps, making reality into something dreamlike.

Bad knows Philza was neither in his chair nor in his basement last night, but Philza doesn't seem to.

"I was confused, then I woke up in the basement, right by where the box had been. But no box, all my items from before back… just with the extra poppy and potato in my inventory. And Pierre yelling outside asking if I was okay. Wasn't really time not to be, what with the Duck's messgae starting right after he dragged me down to spawn."

Bad hmms to himself and watches Philza check the floor again, looking for quartz that very definitely isn't there. He is not really sure what the angel wants from him. It certainly doesn't make Bad less suspicious - the Federation could easily have implanted other orders into his dreams, ones Philza won't know about until they are triggered - but maybe that's the point.

"I don't sleep like that, either. Never that long. Too easy for someone to sneak up on you," Philza frowns. "Tubbo suggested the food at the party was drugged, but for all I took I barely ate any. Why wouldn't someone else have passed out too?"

"Tubbo's… interesting," Bad offers, not even sure what he means by that himself.

Philza laughs, and its something a little manic, "I was asleep a week and despite Fit and Pac's best efforts he broke into the Federation twice, found the room the happy pills were forced on people, and got shot. And made enough factories I pass out from the air quality if I walk too fast through his base. Interesting's a word for it, mate."

"The Federation is messing with your brain," Bad says, rather than address the imploding disaster which is Tubbo. "I don't know what exactly, but… while you were asleep, people loosing memories was talk of the island."

"I /know/," Philza snaps. "How do you think I don't know they've done something to me? Who the fudge else would be able to break my reinforced trap door entirely? One way or another that was gone when I woke up that Saturday, and the party was real, and the maze? But it was there when I woke up for Carre. But it was a dream, it was just a dream, but now I have a flower and a potato and that can't have been a dream, but it has to have been. I had dreams inside that dream, Bad! How do I even know this is real? That I'm talking to you now? That I'm not still trapped in that stupid birdhouse? That the island is even real? That any of you are real? That this isn't some… Isn't some fevered dream as I die of some ancient illness I picked up from the sniffers. What if- What is even real, Bad? Is there even a reality? Do our eggs- I don't- I don't know any more."

It's then that Bad thinks that, maybe, he has worked it out - the illusive thing which Philza wants from him. He thinks of how, as soon as he saw him after the eggs went missing, Philza just stepped up and offered him a hug. How, for a moment, the world was real and for a few seconds Bad felt safe and like his skin was his own. Neither of them have any answers, Bad can't even promise this is real in the end.

But he can open up his arms, so he does.

Philza collapses into them, gripping onto his hoodie as he lets out an ear-splitting shriek. Once, twice, and then it calms slightly into choked off sobs and half-chirped phrases both apologising and doubting and Philza cursing himself.

Some birds scatter, others peer down from the nearby, fudged up trees.

"I'm here," is all Bad can offer to the man in his arms. "You didn't do anything wrong," it tastes like a lie and yet Bad can't tell where the mistake was.

"I'm real, and I've got you."

Nearby one of the blue hummingbirds starts flying away. Bad does not trust it; he leans close and whispers, "where's your closest warp to mine? Let's go there where we can sit down."

Philza gives him the name, and Bad encourages him to warp - promises to follow. He watches for Philza's name disappearing and then reappearing on the map.

And then he grins a little sharp, turning his face out into the woods. "I don't appreciate spies."

Something atarts running; Bad lights a match, and starts a forest fire.

Surrounded by flames, he warps after Philza.

He has muffins at home. Muffins will cheer Philza up a bit, yes? They can have muffins, and coffee, and hug on the couch, and work out who they need to kill.

[harrowharks-iliac-crest]

2

I've just realised! We have new chapter intro pics. This one is a stylised Locked Tomb:

We also had the same one last chapter.

Let's dive in.

PYRRHA worked for Nona, Camilla looked after Nona, and Palamedes taught Nona, all on the understanding that she was not simply a person, but probably one of two people. Nona did not know either of her real possible names.

We're starting with a banger. A quick explanation. This is, someone in Harrow's body, and the three she lives with seem to assume she is either Gideon or Harrow. She hasn't seemed much like either so far.

Nona talked to herself in the mirror even now. When she had been earlier born, and less self-conscious, sometimes she would rest her face against the mirror’s face, and try to reach her reflection. Camilla had caught her kissing it once, and had written about six pages of notes on that, which was humiliating.

This is funny and sweet and sad. Nona clearly loves herself so much more than either Gideon or Harrow ever loved themselves.

I don't think she is Gideon or Harrow. She could be Alecto, having left her memories behind with Harrow in Alecto's body, coming into Harrow's body nearly newborn, completely innocent. She could be some random revenant clinging to Harrow's body.

I suppose she could still be Gideon - reeling from Harrow's soul not being in her body, and working with Harrow's brain damage that is specifically designed not to remember Gideon at all. Therefore, she is now stuck in Harrow's body, unable to remember herself.

I suppose if that's true, even just getting a bit of tenderness from Camilla and Palamedes and Pyrrha is enough to make her love herself?

I suppose we will find out.

If Camilla had six pages of notes on her kissing herself she had about twenty regarding eyes. Nona’s egg-yellow eyes belonged to the other person —the other girl; that was how all of their bodies worked, not only hers.

Lending more weight to the Nona is Gideon theory; the only time we've seen Harrow's body have Gideon's eyes is when Gideon took over, when the Resurrection Beast attacked the Mithraeum.

Also this:

“So someone’s inside me, then? I mean—I’m that somebody?” She always stumbled over this.

Stumbling over Gideon's mere existence indicates this could be Gideon still struggling with the effects of Harrow's lobotomy.

Or Nona isn't Gideon but struggling with the existence of Gideon, thanks to the lobotomy.

Oh Harrow, I mean we knew you fucked up your body big time, but man, this kinda sucks, huh?

(Makes for very compelling storytelling, though.)

“They wanted to see me naked,” said Nona. “It was a sex thing.” Camilla had made a sound, and then pretended it was a cough, and drank a whole glass of water. After the glass of water, she said, “How did you know?” “That’s just the way people look when they want to see you naked and it’s a sex thing,” said Nona. “I don’t really mind.”

This made me chuckle. And points towards Gideon, again, I think.

But Nona couldn’t shoot or fight or think. All she had was a good nature —that wasn’t true all the time, but Nona didn’t want it bruited about that she had a bad temper when she had only ever thrown two tantrums in her life and couldn’t remember either of them.

She can't remember her "tantrums"? Interesting! Interesting indeed. What were they about? At least one of them was about getting stuck in clothes.

Every day she held a sword until she seriously didn’t care about swords anymore, but she still couldn’t fight with one, no matter how big or thin it was. Camilla had wanted to teach her properly, but Pyrrha said not to, that they wouldn’t be able to tell if anything suddenly came back. Nona couldn’t do the forbidden bone tricks either, even though Palamedes did nearly the exact same thing with big grey lumps of bone as Camilla did with the sword.

But Nona is weak, and doesn't seem to have either Harrow or Gideon's skills. She does have a very, very sweet nature.

Nona was good at: 1. touching, 2. wiping dishes, 3. running her hand over the flat cork carpet in a way that got all the hair out of it, 4. sleeping in lots of different ways and positions, and 5. speaking any language that was spoken to her, in person, so she could see the person’s face and eyes and lips.

That's a pretty good skillset, tbh. I love the languages thing. How??? It's so cool. I'm jealous.

Nona understood everybody, and could speak back to them so that they understood her, and nobody ever said she had an accent. This confounded Palamedes. When she first said that she could speak back by watching them talk and making her lips look like theirs, it confounded him so much more that it gave Camilla a headache.

That is pretty confounding!! Very cool, very mysterious. This isn't anything Gideon or Harrow could do, to our knowledge, and honestly languages never have been mentioned very much so far, so it's certainly very strange.

Was this one of Alecto's skills?

Many people had lived through at least one bad resettlement already. Everyone was crammed on one of three planets now, and they all agreed that this planet was easily the worst, though this always made Nona feel a little bit offended on the planet’s part.

"Everyone"?? All of humanity, presumably minus the Nine Houses, who live at the Nine Houses, and the Cohort, who seem to mostly live on spaceships? Who is "Everyone" referring to here?

You were not allowed to say the words zombies, necromancers, or necromancy outside her house, or really inside it either.

Okay, okay, so these are not necromancers, nor do most of them see necromancy in a positive light. Random civilians, people caught up in Blood of Eden stuff, or both?

Interesting that Zombie is used to refer to necromancers.

Nona was so grateful to have had a whole six months of this. It was greedy to expect much longer.

:(

Another girl, another teenager who's expecting to die by the end of the book. Haven't we had enough dead kids around here?

[suvidrache]

There's No One Else I'd Rather Be With

age in bio when interacting. minors do not interact.

Word Count: 852 / Read it on AO3 | Offline Version

edit made by me do not re-upload. edit 2 | edit 3

Summary: An insecure reader decides to leave Abraham.

He knew from the very moment he laid his eyes on you that he loved you. He wanted you. He could never tell you how he felt. He was a fish, sort of, a… Well, it didn't matter, you would never love someone like him. Someone of his species.

He always knew what he was saying, what he was doing. Except when he was around you. He frequently stumbled over his words. If he were anything else, you would have seen him blushing. A part of him was thankful he would never have to experience you seeing him blush every time you were around. He also had the unfortunate ability to read people's minds. It wasn't something he could help or control. He never intended to read your thoughts, but he couldn't help it when he touched your shoulder to get your attention. He knew you liked him back. He wanted to tell you how he was feeling right then and there, but he couldn't. He didn't want to push you away, even though he knew how you felt. He was too afraid that he might be rejected. He was too afraid of what might be said or what might happen.

It was you who had said something first, and he happily accepted it. He enjoyed spending his time with you. Frequently, he would spend his time out of his tank, talking to you, reading with you, and spending time together. You, at times, would join him in his tank, which he happily showed you around. If you didn't know how to swim, he had no issue helping you and teaching you.

He enjoyed every moment with you and tried his best to not read your thoughts. He didn't want to be rude. He loved you. He truly did.

The both of you had been together for months.

Until you couldn't do it anymore. You were a human. He wasn't. You didn't think things could work. You didn't want to hurt him. You were too afraid to tell him what you were feeling, and you avoided him at every chance you could.

Abe was gutted. He spent his time trying to talk to you. To find out what was wrong. What had happened? Was it something he said? Was it his breath from eating the eggs? He just had to be close enough to touch you, and you knew that. Which is why you kept as far from him as you possibly could.

Abe floated in his tank, listening to sad songs on full volume. If he cried, the water washed them away. He couldn't cry. He wasn't a human.

He didn't tell anyone how he had felt, wishing to keep personal matters between the two of you. He wished he could have spoken at least one last word to you. He wished he could have done better to prevent you from leaving. He wished he would have known what he had done wrong.

He climbed out of his tank for the day. He took to writing poems, expressing how much he had loved and cared for you. He would have waited years for you. He could have. He wouldn't find someone else. He wanted you back, or at least to know what he had done wrong.

You avoided the library knowing that's where his tank was. Knowing he would see you before you ever saw him. He didn't want to, but he used his senses from his hands to find you. You were alone. He knocked on the door, waiting for an answer, something before you answered the door.

He quickly grabbed the door. You wouldn't be able to close it, not without hurting him.

"Y/N, please… I just want to talk to you."

You could hear the pain in his voice and yet, you stepped away from the door, turned around, and walked further into the room.

He opened the door and followed after you. He put a hand on your shoulder. It was at that moment, he knew.

You didn't want to leave, you wanted him. You loved him just as much as he loved you. It tore you apart to leave him, to avoid him, to pretend as if you didn't know he spent his days searching for you. You were insecure about your species.

"Y/N, I… I love you. If I didn't, I wouldn't have accepted your request… I'm sorry for intruding… I shouldn't have." He said as he withdrew his hand from you. His head remained lowered.

"I'm sorry for leaving you." You spoke as you turned towards him. You stepped closer and wrapped your arms around him. He wrapped his arms around you

"Do… Can we talk about things next time…? That is, um, if you'd like to continue… sorry."

"Yes, Abe. I… I still want to be with you. We can talk things out. I just didn't think that you liked me. I'm a human."

He gave you a gentle squeeze.

"I have always loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you. I wouldn't want to be with anyone else."

© SUVIDRACHE — do not copy, translate, modify, or plagiarize my work. reblogs are appreciated!

Tag List: @eli-chris, @queendeeshorrorimagines, @phantomheiko, @unlikelypersonalknight1 / Join my tag list here!

[androgynousblackbox]

How To Lose a Lucifer In 10 Days. 29 [Appleradio, Radioapple]

Step 29: Lose him

Truth be told, Alastor could be having a worst time. He could be the one that Heaven was making scrumbleg eggs out of his mind and memories just to keep him from being rightfully pissed off at them. He could be the one with his own magic restricted or not have any magic at all with which avoid feeling absolutely defenseless while being imprisoned.

Obviously there were a lot of thing he would rather change, his imprisonment being one of the first items on the list. Very close to it, the companion he had been imprisioned with. After a month since the last Extermination, they had finally managed to get their captors into giving them better accomodations and some ammenities to their cell. A chimney, library, his own radio and two actual beds that were still in opposite sides, Alastor was convinced it was mostly because of his own good behavior. The Lucifer of his own dimension could ask for the exact same thing whenever his siblings came around and nothing would happen, regardless of how "tame" he was. Alastor did and whatever change was required took only one day, if not less. Essentially giving to him all the control over what happened on their cells, which of course translated in the style of decoration heavily inclined to his own preferences.

It made it more comfortable, of course, as much it was still a cell from which neither of them could escape from. Whatever accomodation Lucifer wanted, had to go through him, putting the king on the not at all comfortable position to submit to his own mercy. The thing was, it happened so rarely already, and they were such small things, that Alastor didn't even find any satisfaction on pretending like he could refuse any of them. It didn't even seemed like if he did, Lucifer would care that much.

Just another thing to look sad and stay laying looking at the ceiling, or pace around the cell without saying a word, or to sigh continuesly like the wife of a sailor waiting for the boat of her love to appear on the horizon, always looking to the hallways for the next update on what their other versions were going through.

That part bothering him. It's like he didn't even care about the art supplies, the boardgames, the music or anything else that Alastor had manipulated his siblings into giving them, pretending it was all for himself, for the good of their supposed relationship. Whatever enjoyment the ex-king would take out of those distractions was soon covered up by his questions. How did he thought their other versions were doing. Where were they. How long was it going to take to be there.

Oh, and Charlie. One time of mentioning her name casually was all it took for Alastor to learn that was a bad idea, to never do that again. The man stayed two days straight in bed, refused to eat, refused to talk, refuse to engage him at all, and sure, on an purely intellectual abstract level Alastor could understand that. On a practical real one, though, he hated it on such a way he couldn't even explain it.

It wasn't supposed to happen like that. The other Lucifer was annoying because all of the attention he dedicated to him was merely a proxy for another Alastor, an entirely indedependent entity from himself. This Lucifer, on the other hand, was giving more attention and space to both that Alastor and his Lucifer to even notice any of the concesions that the radio demon was bothering to do for him. To try to make their forced cohabitation also somewhat tolerable, that is.

There were moments in which Lucifer was actually with him, though. In a couple of ocassions Alastor cranked up the puns in a row, one after another, in a chain of absolute hits that had Lucifer positively wheezing. When he managed to get him interested on the piano he brought on, he would play a silly circus theme song with made up lyrics that made no sense whatsoever. Something about ducks with machetes eating crepes in Wednesday. But the words ryhmed, it made them laugh and for a moment, for one singular, unique moment, Alastor thought they could have done something like that at the hotel already. Instead of pretending like they had nothing in common and it was worth it to treat each other like enemies. Exchange creative insults was all well and good, but those moment were not that bad either. It was a real pity that it took dimensional hopping and becoming prisoners of Heaven to start to see that. But no matter what they were doing, Lucifer's ever present melancholy because of whatever was happening outside, to other people, to another Alastor to top it all off, always came back.

Becuase of all of that, Alastor found himself trying to retain the attention of the not monarch as much as he could. It was like a sneeze that could kept attacking his nose whenever he just knew Lucifer was thinking of them, like a new six senth that had his ears twitching on top of his head. Someone had to care about not bringing the entire mood of the cell down the entire time, after all. Apparently that someone had to be him because Lucifer just couldn't stop worrying about his favorite Alastor. The one that, for all they knew, was never going to be allowed to see his ex-royal face again in case it could break the stupid spell, so there was even less of a point to dedicate him that much thought.

That day, especially, Alastor's patience was running thin. There he was, setting up a plate with sweet cookies, on the table he had gotten them, playing with the cards that he had asked for and he was being so uncharacteristically nice that Lucifer should be thanking him on his knees. He had only cheated one time and insulted Lucifer's performance with such soft curve balls that he should have easily returned them back to him. And yet, that still wasn't enough to have Lucifer stop tapping his hoove on the carpet he asked for, looking at the golden bars that made their confinment as if any minute now it was going to bring the solution to all of his worries, his mind forever from the game or anything related to him. It was enough to drive any man insane. Would it really kill him to at least look at him? To stop acting like he was merely another decoration in the cell?

As he glared at the the tiny devil, he noticed that he haven't even touched the damned cookies. Did he thought he asked those for himself? Who was going to eat them if not him? Barely containing the impulse to throw everything to the garbage, Alastor took a deep breath and tried for one last resource.

"How about we make this round more interesting with a bet?" proposed, tapping with his finger hard enough in the table for Lucifer took at him.

But it was so briefly before he was taken out again.

"Sure. What do you have in mind?" asked, supporting his chin on his hand.

He wasn't even double checking his cards to see if he had more chances of winning or losing. He did not care about either. That was the last push that Alastor needed.

"How about something simple like a kiss?" let out, grinning when Lucifer finally, finally, turned his eyes back up to him. "Winner to the loser. Since neither of us can exchange goods here, a little challenge seems to be in order."

Lucifer blinked as if he haven't understood his words. Thinking about them or about his own confusion rather than in dwelling on every thing they couldn't change about their situation.

"Of course, if you have so little faith on your abilities as a player, your Majesty, I completely understand if you want to forfeit at once."

That, at least, seemed to bring Lucifer out of his daze and straighten up. His mouth opened up, either to reply with some teasing of his own, deny or suggest anything else entirely, it didn't matter at all which as long at least it was talking to him directly for once, when a voice cheerfully called from the other side of the bars.

"Knock knock" called Gabriel and Lucifer let his cards on the table, ignoring the cookies, not minding that Alastor could cheat so much more easily now, as he moved to face his sibling. "Oh, hi, Luci."

"So?" asked immediately. "Are we getting out? Are they getting out? Did the prophecy died down now? What is it now? What, Gabe?!" insisted when the archangel didn't respond as quickly as he was requiring.

Gabriel sighed, adjusting his glasses.

"Actually, I came to pick up Alastor" said, lifting his head until he could focus on the sinnner. "You are moving out of here."

"Out of here where exactly?" asked Alastor, now standing up from his own seat.

"Is he going back to Hell?" wanted to know Lucifer.

The preemptive hope in his voice at the idea did warmed up Alastor a little. He knew already that his own incarcelation was one of those things the man thought about, because of the whole feeling responsible for him, but it was nice to see it in real time all the same.

"N-no, not yet" Gabriel moved to a side of the cell and made a gesture. The hands of Lucifer attached to the bars, preventin any other movement from him, but he was expecting it at least.

"You are not going to just try to separate us by putting him in another cell, right?" tried Lucifer still, as if already panicking about it.

"It's not a cell" said, touching one of the golden bars until a space big enough for him to come in opened up. "Evelyn Morraine has been given especial permission to keep watch over him and the other Alastor. I need to take him to see her."

"Evelyn…?" Lucifer frowned for a moment. It didn't took long for the proverbial lightbulb to turn on at top of his head. "His mom?!"

His shock was almost as big as Alastor's was. So much that Alastor didn't even questioned from where did Lucifer heard the complete name of his mother. Gabriel nodded.

"Sera has just given the go ahead" said, turning to the radio demon. Alastor felt like he had been just turned into a mannekin, without the ability or knowledge of what to do with his limbs now. It wasn't the same woman who raised him, not really, but she had the same name and unless his own eyes had tricked him that day, she looked remarkably similar to the woman he knew in life. "As long you promise to behave yourself, not cause any trouble and, well, avoid certain topics around the other Alastor, then you can both stay with her at her house."

Alastor should be trotting down the hallways right at that moment, ready and willing to enjoy some relative freedom under those conditions, no questions asked. But instead he pointed at the ex-king with his staff.

"What about him?"

"Luci still has to stay" Gabriel, to his favor, had the decency of avoid looking at both as he said that. "Sorry, but even with the handcuffs on, people could get very nervous around him. You too, so that is why you and the fallen are getting spells to disguise yourselves."

Alastor for a moment stared at the archangel, almost wanting to ask how and why were they allowing him out then when he was supposed to be such a threat he was worth taking out from his own dimension. But he had never been a man that questioned his own luck and he wasn't about to start now. He did, however, threw a glance to the devil.

Lucifer should be able to walk away too. That just wasn't a question in his mind. The devil seemed to notice his hesitation and seemed surprised by it, but only for a second. He offered him up a smirk and Alastor did his absolute to not react to it, to pretend like he didn't felt at least a little reassured by it, because it made no sense whatsoever.

"It's fine, we can keep playing another time" said the devil with a slight shrug. "I am sure this bullshit is going to end sooner than later, right?" added with a harsh tone, lowerig his eyebrows when looking at the archangel.

"We may, actually" said Gabriel, perking up a little. "Right now the prophecy is weaker than ever before. If it becomes completely obsolete, both of you can go home."

Alastor noticed he wasn't including their other versions, but didn't ask for more clarification. Lucifer didn't, probably because he was already imagining they were going to still be harder on those two.

"Fingers crossed" said Lucifer, allowing a quick smile as Alastor started walking out. "Say to Evelyn hi from me!" yelled just when they were about to go down the stairs and Alastor turned his head, but the devil had already gone inside.

Gabriel took him for a path that he had never done before, one that Alastor was sure now that on his own probably wasn't een going to appear for him. At the end of it, there was a big door in front of which Jophiel was already waiting next to the other Alastor, casually examining his own claws. The archangel himself was keeping himself a good distance away. Upon hearing their steps coming closer, the other radio demon grinned without any of the hidden threat that Alastor had been used to when their first met. He

"Well, it has been a while, hasn't it?" greeted the man, perking up a little. "Nice to make your acquantance again, temporary brother of mine."

Alastor tried to avoid it, but his eyes did end up glozing over the abdomen of his other version. An ugly sensation ran through him at realizing he did look slightly plumper than his usual self. It wasn't that noticeable unless compared with his own completely flat stomach, and anyone would be forgiven for believing that he just had a huge meal, but it was there. The thought to wonder if his Lucifer had seen it or even knew about it did cross his mind before he pushed it away.

"Is that our cover story?" asked.

"Might as well" The fallen shrugged slightly. "Now, personally, I don't see the point as to why you should come in, but from what I have been told, my mother insisted. I imagine you know already what happens when Evelyn Morraine sets out to do anything if ours are anything similar to each other. Who I am to fight the inevitable?" Despite his words, the man was grinning with an evident proud twinkle in his eyes that Alastor could fully reflect back no problem.

Only his mother was going to be able to have Heaven doing her will rather than the other way around.

"Understandable position" agreed Alastor with a slight nod and for a moment, for the first time they met, they both smiled sincerely at recognizing each other as the son of the same kind of woman.

"Evelyn should tell you herself what you have to say to explain why you are there" said Gabriel. Alastor noticed that despite his other version being as calm as ever, he was still looked aprehensive to the fallen and also staying a few steps of distance. He walked calmly to Alastor and extended a hand to ask for his. Luckily for him, the angel didn't actually touch him as he draw a quick symbol over his palm. "Close your fist, please."

He did. As soon his hand opened up again, it was the warmth pinkish palm of a human looking hand and dark brown skin over his palm. Alastor looked that even his clothing had been changed for a white shirt and red trousers with grey suspenders. When Jophiel, very quickly, and jumping back as soon as he could, did the same for the fallen, he was wearing a similar outfit with dark blue pants. His face wasn't that far away from how they looked while alive, maybe with less of a pointy chin and hair pure black rather than the brown they sported before. A thin moustache on top of his lips completely the look.

That and the angel wings, for which the fallen looked not impressed at all. Alastor catched his own over his shoulder and something about that did feel so intrinsically, inherently wrong that he had to repress the impulse to try to rip them out.

"As you know, not a word of what we are trying to do here" warned Gabriel to both of them, but mainly talking to Alastor, as if already deciding he was going to be more receptive. "Not about the prophecy or anything. It could cause a panic between the winners and that is the last thing we want. We will keep watching just to make sure everything is fine" He waited for Alastor to nod before continueing. "Oh, and you can't actually fly so don't try to. Those wings are solid, but think of them as decorative. You won't be able to move them like real wings."

"Oh no" pretended to lament Alastor. As if he wanted to even attempt that. If Gabriel even as much noticed the sarcasm, he didn't make notice of it.

"Do mine really need to be out?" asked the fallen. His wings fluttered lightly behind him, which only caused him to grimace with disgust.

"If you want anyone to believe you are a winner staying with Evelyn Morraine, yes" Gabriel frowned slightly, like he couldn't understand what was so bad about them.

Just because of that gesture, the fallen was glad to inform him.

"They are gross, ugly and stupid" said simply, with almost childish delight when the two archangels were taken aback. "I would rather have them burn permanently, please. I don't mind a little bit of bleeding, as you both well know."

Jophiel took another step back. Gabriel stayed in place, looking a little bit sick but shaking his head with resolution. He was not going to deal with that.

"Just please behave" asked, directing them both through the door.

On a huge lobby they entered, Alastor noticed the door behind them dissapearing into the a wall. His ear twitched softly when he could hear some step running up to them. Before he could fully turn, the short woman that he saw on the heavenly meeting had already arrived to him to squeeze him together with the fallen. Alastor for a moment was stunned by the fact that he could recognize her perfume. She was clearly on a younger form that he remembered from his childhood, her hair was different, and obviously the halo was new, but there was no way to ever confuse her by anyone else. For one second he was again smaller than her and she was rocking him on the couch while the radio played on the corner, softly humming the tunes while tappig her feet on the floor. Her arms were soft, welcoming and nothing hurt.

Then she pulled back and her eyes sparkled, cupping his cheek with one hand while doing the same for the fallen.

"Oh, the only thing I am sorry about is that I don't get to see your pretty faces" she sighed, giving them a gentle pat before she smiled, looking between them. "I guess for one of you this is technically the first time we are together, isn't it?

"That would be me, maam" said Alastor.

"Oh, a polite one! At least I know now that your mother taught you some manners" Evelyn nodded, chuckling softly as she patted his arm. "Pleasure to be meeting you, sweetheart. I must warn you right now that, from another woman or not, you are going to be my baby boy under my roof and I expect nothing else but total compliance to that notion. Or else" added, lifting a finger to the air.

"I tremble with fear at the prospect" Alastor nodded his head, smiling wide. "I will correspond accordingly, if you don't mind."

"None at all!" Evelyn then looked over to her actual Alastor and cupped his cheek again, her smile suddenly heavier than a second before. "How are you, sweetie?"

The fallen relied against the contact of his mother, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Better now" said with a sigh.

"Poor baby" Evelyn cooed as she brushed her knuckles over the line of his jaw. She exhaled and grabbed the arms of both of them, holding them against against herself, firmly. "I already heard all the talk I need to know from you" said to the archangels, lifting her chin. "I know how to take care of my family. Do we have any other business to discuss? No? Then by all means, you are all welcome to pay us a visit later on until you all decide they had enough already."

Without waiting a response, Evelyn started walking down the lobby to the biggest entrance that took to the center of all of Heaven. The archangels didn't try to stop them either as Alastor came to know that part of his prison for the first time.

The hatred was almost instantaneus. Why did everything had to be so shiny and perfectly cleaned up? Where was the life, the wear, the tear, the color? Even the clean air that he was forced to breath was something his body wanted to reject, making it into a necesary effort those few first seconds. Looking to the man at the other side of his mom, he could see that the fallen wasn't especially glad to be part of that environment again either. Somehow that did brought a strange sense of comfort. At least they weren't unique on that aspect.

As the woman kept moving, she told him all about her favorite places to visit and to what to do. There is where she got her favorite tea ever. On that place you always got the best flowers to live up any place. That chocolate place has the nicest clerk ever, but don't mind his broken English. She wasn't treating them at all like they were prisoners or potential threats for anyone, and Alastor wouldn't have expected anything else from her. When they reached the building where she lived, a trip up the elevator later, they were on her apartment. Alastor had never see it before, but it didn't cost him a single thing to believe that was were his mother, or at least a woman remarkably similar to her, lived.

"Who are we supposed to be, mother?" was the first thing that the fallen asked, as soon the door was closed behind them.

"My cousins Eric and Leopold, dearie" said Evelyn, taking out her scarf to hang near the door and going to the kitchen. "You remember them, right? They brought the best christmas presents for all children. I always thought that they should have been here anyway."

Alastor and the fallen looked at each other, confirming that they both, indeed, had the same memories about those men.

"Mom, they were both working for the mob boss in town" informed her the fallen.

"They took care of the competition and exorted people to pay for their protection" added Alastor with a shrug. "Nice men otherwise."

"What" Evelyn peeked quickly from her kitchen, tea pot still in hand. "Are you not playing tricks on me, honey?"

"How do you think they got the money for all those presents? I thought everyone in the city knew already" the fallen couldn't help to chucke at the consternation of his mother.

"Well, apparently not!" Evelyn huffed, returning inside. "And to think I almost called you Eric on their honor! Really goes to show how much you get to know people."

"We can always avoid mentioning that detail about their past if anyone asks" commented Alastor, looking around the place. "We can go with the cover story they used."

"Humble shoemakers that did a bit of everything when there was the chance" agreed the fallen.

"So be it then!" A few minutes later Evelyn came out with a tray, shaking her head. She took the content to the small table in front of her couch and called them over. Two mugs of black coffee and one for her tea. "I still can't believe it. And they were so kind to the kids on the neighborhood."

"Well, the kids didn't had money for protection anyway" joked Alastor, earning himself a familiar pout from his mother.

"I see you have the same sense of humour too. Lucky me" Evelyn sighed and sat down, suddenly perking up to the fallen. "Now that is out of the way, tell me everything you know about my grandchild! They told me a little bit already, but I want to hear it from you!"

Alastor tensed up a little. How much meant a little bit? Have they told her about how she couldn't be asking him about the other parent? About how everything to do with Lucifer, Charlie and Emily as topics had to be avoided at all cost or else it could actually harm the mind of the fallen? Did she know about the whole magic transference issue and what it needed to happen so the baby could keep growing? In fact, he didn't know about that either. Have they found an alternative solution after all or were just going to send a donor to work on the fallen? But as much as he wanted to satiate his own curiosity, he stayed behind the couch as the fallen made a simple gesture of his hand, closing all the windows in the place.

Once they were completely isolated, the fallen made a fist two times. The illusion that made him into a wider man dissapeared, leaving behind his usual grey face and red hair. Alastor looked at his own hand and repeated the same gesture, finding his own hand a second later. He kept his face just as neutral as ever, as if he knew that was going to happen, even though he had no idea. Back to show his real face, the fallen smiled bigger as he sat down on the couch, patting his stomach.

"They had me seeing a doctor before coming here. The baby is currently at 9 weeks and everything is normal with them now. As long I keep taking care of them, they will be out sooner than later!" The fallen chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. "I will admit, they were really not part of my plans originally, but I am nothing if not flexible. You don't have to worry, mother" assured, reaching over to pat the hand that Evelyn was pressing against her own knee. He was right to read her body language as worry, but didn't understand the extent of it. "I will provide for them to the best of my ability. I didn't came to have the position I enjoy by not being able to take care of myself. As far I am around, they will be safe and care for. They will never lack a single thing."

"Oh, sweetie, I know" Evelyn covered his hands with her, giving them a reassuring squeeze. She bended over slightly to leave a kiss on the back of his palm, almost hiding her watery eyes. "I fully trust you will be an amazing parent, sweetheart. I know you will."

The fallen nodded, directing a glance over to Alastor as he took one of the mugs of coffee. For once he was trying to be tactful and pretend the whole interaction had nothing to do with him, but he should have known that no good deed ever went unpunished, not even in Heaven.

"Did they tell you he is having a baby too?" asked the fallen with a slight tilt of his head. The reaction from Evelyn was immediate. She straigthen up on her seat and her head snapped to the other radio demon, who could only stare back at her as if frozen. "You have even less to worry from him, though" added casually, taking a sip from his mug. "His is from the Lucifer of his dimension. Having the king from Hell himself as a partner has to make a lot of things easier."

Alastor didn't miss the bitter note at the end of his words, despite the same neutral indifferent smile not changing one bit. Any other being could have missed it entirely, but not him, not when it was his own voice talking. Truth be told, the whole situation would have been highly hilarious looking from the ouside. Pure irony to have that response coming from the demon that was glad to brag about how his marriage would facilitate having a child in Hell, now dealing with someone else having that fate instead. But since he was living it from the inside, Alastor could only feel a wave of irritation towards those stupid angels who insisted on implanting that narrative on his other version. They were already taking away a big portion of the hellish life of the man, what did another chunk of information missing would do?

He even considered telling both right and then that it was all a lie that Lucifer made up at the last moment. No baby, no future grandchild, no relationship either. Just a stupid convenient lie. But doing so would form part of the whole breaking the sense of reality of the fallen and Lucifer had told him enough times already about how the consequences could be devastating. After they had already tried to rearrenge his mind before and it didn't stick, he was more susceptible than before. That was part of the reason why Lucifer remained so concerned about receivin updates on the pair.

Sure, he could say he didn't care and still spill the beans, see what happened. But somehow having a version of his mother staring back at him, made it impossible.

"Indeed" said, completely deadpan through gritted teeth. "We couldn't be happier."

Evelyn frowned softly, weirded out, but accepting the hand gesture of Alastor to leave it alone for now. After he gave a few more vague details, Evelyn showed told the fallen that he could use the same guest room tha he had during his redemption and Alastor was welcome to take the bed she put on her craft room. It wasn't much, but if he ever needed anything else then he better didn't hesitate once second into telling her and she would make sure it could be handled. Both of them had clothing waiting on the closet to the sizes she remembered, but they could always change it later on if they wanted to. She wanted both of them to be as comfortable as possible while they stayed there.

After the little tour, the fallen announced that he was going to take a shower and get changed into something else. That sounded like a great idea that Alastor was going to use as soon the bathroom was free. For now, Evelyn invited him to come dry up her dishes as she cleaned them up. The oldest excuse in the book to talk without fearing they could be heard.

"Sweetie…" started Evelyn, not sure of how to open the topic.

Alastor didn't mind giving her a helping hand.

"No, I am not really with child" said calmly, putting away a dried plate. "Your Majesty made that up so I could keep my magic. We also have no relationship whatsoever. But now they made that part of what that man believes so I can't contradict it."

"Oh thank goodness" sighed Evelyn, taking a hand to her chest. "No offense, dearie, but one surprise grandchild from one son is all my nerves can take. I was about to grow grey hairs again thinking on the poor Charlie of the other dimension."

Alastor thought for a moment about the wedding ring that Lucifer still had with him and, by easy associaton, on Lilith that should be with Charlie right as they were speaking.

"There is no need at all for concern, for me at least" commented, pushing the thought to a side. "All things considered, I think they favor me precisely because I don't have the same impulses that other me has regarding the Lucifer I know. Had, I should say."

Evelyn sighed again. She turned quickly to see over her shoulder, double checking that they could still talk in confidence, and then shook her head slightly.

"It's… so awful what they did to him" said finally. "I know that most mothers would be glad that their son isn't with the devil himself anymore, but I know that man and I know the family they made. They were fine as they were, back in Hell. I might not understand it all, but I don't need to in order to see that. It's frankly… inhumane to break them apart like that" commented, her hands furiously rubbing the cleaning rag over a plate that was already impeccable.

Alastor gently put a hand over hers before she could break it.

"I guess they can afford that since they aren't human" said, grabbing the plate instead to put with the rest after drying up. "I was meaning to ask" added softly, to change the topic and because he actually wanted to know "how exactly did you came in contact with Lucifer? I can't imagine the Heaven that was so strict about restricting us for this long, who is still imprisioning both Lucifer, would casually let the devil interact with a winner."

"You aren't wrong, dearie" Evelyn chuckle. "We made a way to contact each other. Lucifer was the one who set it up. First a casual reunion and now, we used to have weekly dinners before this mess happened" The face of the woman fell again. "I guess… he must have forgotten about that too. If they took everything else to do with them, it makes sense."

"I am surprised" commented, taking her mind away from things they couldn't change anyway, "that my Church going mother gets along with the devil. Where has gone the devoted woman I used to know? I can only imagine what our old pastor would say."

That effectively made her laugh, exactly as he hoped for.

"Oh, sweetie, I am a woman of many facets" she said, knocking him softly with the cleaning cloth in her hand. "My faith taught me to judge people by their own merits. The Lucifer I know not one time has done a single thing but to show how me much he loves my son, so I fully trust he won't stand for any of this. Your Lucifer too, regardless if you are having a baby or not."

Alastor hummed once, looking down as he pretended to work on another glass. For some reason he didn't doubt that either. But think about it made him feel weird in a way he didn't fully understand and therefore didn't want to cultivate.

"He is not mine" clarified. "He is old Lucifer for me, if anything."

Evelyn pursed her lips.

"Mmm, pity" commented after a beat. "We already kow you can make a cute match. Are you sure?"

"Positive" Alastor resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. It wasn't the first time that his mom tried to set him up with someone. He thought that after they both died the last one would be behind them, but he was obviously wrong. "He is still married to the Queen of our dimension. The other Lucifer never knew any Lilith in the first place."

"I didn't see any Queen trying to advocate for him to be freed" pointed out Evelyn casually. "Divorces can take such a long time and be so complicated. When we are talking about royalty of any kind, that must be even worse."

Alastor frowned slightly.

"There is no interest" said, giving her a side eye.

"Why not? Is he blind, deaf and allergic to good taste?"

He felt his smile twitch on the corner. Give it to this mother, no matter what version, to know what to say to cause a sincere smile. But she didn't know that Lucifer had already made it plenty clear that the Alastor he prefered was another. The same one that probably didn't even remember him or any of the time that they spend together in the same dimension.

"Might as well, I suppose" He shrugged.

"I didn't hear you say you were not interested, though" Evelyn completely ignored the record scratch that cracked through the air, as it were part of her usual environment. "You have never been shy to tell me before you didn't care for someone or didn't like them. Some would say to the point that it was impolite. I guess I am just surprised. Don't squint your eyes at me, young man. It's not my fault you can't admit you have a crush" warned, somehow knowing that was exactly what Alastor was doing with his face without even turning to see him. A mother always knew.

Alastor opened up his mouth to protest, to lie, say anything at all, but before any word would come out of him, the fallen's voice called their attention from the hallway.

"Mother, what is this?"

The man was just standing there, his hair still damp from the shower, dressed up with a black shirt with a design of white puppies all over.

"Oh, I am sorry" said Evelyn, turning with a hand over her hip. "Do you have an issue with the clothes your mother got you out of the goodness of her heart? I would hope you would know to forgive we don't have evil creepy clothing like the best designers of Hell, but at least is best than going naked around."

The fallen sighed.

"I will change them myself tomorrow" determined, returning to his room.

"That is right, you will" Evelyn exhaled through her nose. "Put your suit to a side to be cleaned up later!"

"Yes, mom" came out the automatic response.

"What was that, dearie?" insisted Evelyn.

"Thank you, dear mother."

Evelyn nodded.

"You are welcome, sweetie! I didn't raise a man without manners" commented to no one, cleaning up her hands and then drying them on her apron. "I try to get him dark stuff and comes out with that to me. Unbelievable" She shook her head slightly and looked at him. "You can go through your own clothing and see what you like or not. Tomorrow we will go to see what else we can get. You are all both lucky that we don't have to spend any money here" Alastor finished with the last glass he had on hand. He was about ready to go to the craft room, his temporary one, to do just that when Evelyn's voice reached him out again. "By the way, I was planning to make some jambalaya for dinner. Do you mind that, darling?"

Alastor stood still for a second until he could find his words and then make them go through his mouth.

"Not at all" said, turning to her, but she was already working on getting the pots she needed. He quite literally couldn't remember the last time that his mom prepared that dish. It had to have been before the diagnoses that changed everything. She was so sick and tired by the end that she couldn't cook for herself or anyone else, which was it's own kind of heartbreaking for a woman used to express her joy through her food. No matter how closely he followed her recipe, it was never the same. "I would love to."

Evelyn smiled to him over her shoulder.

"Then you better bring lose trousers, sweetie, because I am not letting any of you waste a single bite."

After a particularly filling dinner, the fallen retired early and Alastor stayed at the table while her mom made him know that, in fact, a lot of their shared memories were the same. Whatever differences there were between their experiences, were so insignificant that they could not have been there at all. Memories that Alastor haven't touched at all in more than a century, even before his death, came back to him just as easy as his own name, like they had never gone anywhere.

It took them hours of reminiscing before Evelyn declared that it was enough. She wanted to show around her cousins and she couldn't do it if she was too tired. Alastor couldn't argue with that logic. When she squeezed him between her arms, Alastor didn't mind about the bleat that came out of him and even less when Evelyn chuckled.

"Good night, sweetie" said, bringing him down to kiss both his cheeks. "If you need anything, don't doubt to tell me, alright? I don't care from which dimension you are from, I will always recognize my baby boy."

Alastor felt his ear flattering on top of his head. He nodded without a word, speechless for the first time in a long time, and squeeze the arm she used to hold him before letting her go. The idea that she was still going to be there in the morning warmed his chest as he went to his room.

As he was changing to a red pajama that Evelyn had put aside for him, there was a knock on his door. His hope that it would be his mother was crushed as soon his visitor spoke.

"Are you decent enough so we can have a talk?"

Alastor could not imagine what the fallen could want to talk with him, but couldn't think any reason to outright reject him. He haven't even threatened him once, which was its own kind of surprising. He would have expected that the fallen would have a negative reaction to him speaking to his mom, similar to how he acted with the prospect around Lucifer. During their dinners there was a few lingering looks or comments that made him narrow his eyes, but it was far more peaceful than what he would have expected.

"A second" said, finishing to button up the top of the pajama. Once done, he went to open the door and let the man enter. "What can I do for you, my friend?"

The fallen looked around the room for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. He had already plenty of time to do that until the dinner finished and he was away from Evelyn, but he still needed some more.

"You and I…" started, turning to him, "we are both in the exact same position when it comes to our situation in Heaven, right?"

"As far I am aware of" Alastor crossed his arms and tilted his head to a side. "Why?"

"Do you…" The fallen looked down at his hands. His eyes concentrated a moment in one of them before putting both at his back. "Did they take something from you?" asked finally.

"Besides my freedom, my rightful dimension and precious hours of my time I am never getting back?"

"Yes, besides that" The fallen frowned slightly, squinting his eyes, as if fighting a headache. "Something more important than that. Something that was yours and now is not there."

Alastor sighed. He had to thread carefully there. Not just because of Evelyn, but Lucifer too wouldn't like to know that he fucked over the mind of the fallen.

"Nothing that I can imagine" replied firmly. "Are you sure you aren't just tired, pal?"

The fallen shook his head.

"I had this weird sensation for days now. It's like they emptied out my guts and rearrenged them again, but it was sloppy work. Something that should be there is not. I just can't what remember what it is. Did I had an extra arm that is gone now? Did I had more fingers? An organ that I can't see?" The man looked at his hands again, sighning as his finger rubbed the anular one. "Surely they must have done something to you as well" ended, looking up.

The hope in his voice, to finally have someone validate the weird thoughts that plagued him and he couldn't justify, did made Alastor uncomfortable for a moment. This was sick. To put any of them in this situation it was sick. He could be a sadistict monster, but at this point he would have just killed the target already.

"I am afraid I have no idea what you mean" said after taking a breath. "I had nothing of the sort happen to me."

"I… see" The fallen rubbed his temple, squinting still.

"It's maybe for the better if you don't remember" added Alastor. "If it was so important, wouldn't you know already? Shouldn't be so obvious by now if you are truly missing something?" The fallen looked to a side, as if he could see his point and wanted to argue, but didn't know how. Alastor decided to take his chance now. "Isn't your life fine as it is just like it is now? You are visiting your mother. The child that who knows why you wanted is growing as it should. Of course neither of us would chose to be here right now or have anything to do with Heaven, but you are just fine given the circumstances. No body part has been taken from you. Can't be that enough?"

"But it was mine" protested the fallen, holding his head with a hand. "They stole it from me. I don't care if I need it or not, it was mine. Would you be okay with just knowing that?"

"You don't know that" pointed out Alastor, without answering. Because of course the idea of anyone taking that was meant to be his was unacceptable, but that wasn't the kind of answer that would disuade the fallen from keep wondering about it. There was probably no words capable of doing that, but he might as well could try. "It could be stress playing tricks on the mind. Have you been sleeping as much as you should?" He nodded knowingly when then the fallen frowned at him, giving him the answer. "Ah, there you have it then! I am sure that a few nights of uninterrupted sleep in a better bed will have you feeling as new in no time. No need to bash your head in for literally nothing wrong going on. Your baby wouldn't appreciate that."

The fallen stared at him for a moment and then around the room. But whatever he was looking for was still not there with them.

"I guess I should sleep regardless" said finally.

"Sound plan if I ever heard one" Alastor moved to the door and opened up again. "Once this whole situation is over, all those thought will go away, no doubt about it."

"Is that what you think?"

Alastor smiled. What else could he do? Anything else was only going to cause more trouble that it was worth and end up hurting the fallen one way or another. If it were only the fallen, he wouldn't mind that much, but way too many people now cared about him. People who he saw no benefit in upsetting or dissapointing. For as much he didn't like it, this was the best he could do.

"Naturally. Have a good night, my friend."

The fallen kept staring at him for a while longer, but end up leaving his room without replying him back.

--

Their shopping outing was going splendid. Evelyn was happy to brag to everyone about her cousins and how glad she was that they were finally joining her as they should. Not a word about their real jobs was ever said. Outfits in Heaven were, in fact, of a different style that any of them was used to, but it wasn't completely unwearable. The only actual good point about Heaven is that money was never an issue, so they could try and grab as much as they wanted without a single care. While Evelyn talked with the clerk, Alastor noticed the change on the fallen's face before anyone else did.

He was supposed to be trying a new jacket on top of his shirt, but instead the man was still in front of the mirror, not moving. Through the direction of the brown eyes over the surface of the reflection, Alastor realized the reason why. They were following a top of blonde hair walking down the street.

Before he could reach to the man and distract him somehow, the fallen had dropped the jacket and ran to the exit.

"I will get him" said Alastor to a surprised Evelyn, going after his other version. By the time he managed to find him again, he had already grabbed the arm of the one who had called his attention.

Saint Peter was smiling akwardly, without a single clue of how to read the expression of the one in front of him.

"Hi…?" offered up. "Wh-what can I do for you, friend?"

Alastor ran up to them and put his hand on the shoulder of the fallen. Only then did the man seemed to realize the mistake he had made and let the arm of the saint go from his hand. His eyes were still fixated on the top of his head, as if there he was going to be able to find the answers to a question he didn't dare to make.

"Apologies, good sir! My brother is still adapting to the afterlife and got a little confused" excused, trying to take away the fallen by the shoulders. After a little more forceful tugging, the fallen finally nodded to Saint Peter to confirm the words said.

"Ah, it's okay, don't worry about it!" Saint Peter turned around and started lifting himself in the air. "Welcome to Heaven and good luck with your little issue!"

"That is wrong" muttered the fallen.

Alastor took a deep breath and let go of the man now.

"What is it now?"

The fallen blinked and looked at him, as if it was the first time he register he was there.

"I don't know" said, pressing the cushion of his palm against his brow. After a few seconds, he pressed both his hands against his temple.

"Sweetie, there you are!" suddenly Evelyn jumped between them, taking the hands of the fallen between hers. "Come on, darling, come with me" cooed, pulling him over. The few people that had witnesses the grabbing of Saint Peter finally lost all interest and went back to their own business. "Let's go grab you something to eat, alright?"

"I don't think I am hungry" said the fallen, following her regardless.

Evelyn reached her hand up to the face of the man, pressing the back of her palm on his forehead and then the cheeks. She stayed there for a moment, her eyebrows going over her eyes with heavy concern.

"My, sweetie, you are burning" said gently, taking his hand again. "Let's just go home, dearie. Don't worry about the shirt, I talked with the clerk already."

Alastor wasn't sure of how much Evelyn have undertood what happened until she left him sleeping on his room. He was sitting on the couch of the living room when the woman bended forward the back of the seat, whispering as if her son could her hear still.

"He thought that was Lucifer, wasn't it?"

"He thought that was someone he recognized, yes" Alastor shrugged slightly. "But didn't know who. He can't make the connection."

Evelyn stared at him for a long while, as if struggling to come to a decision herself. In the end, no matter what side won inside of her, she moved over to the furniture under the window and opened up the first drawer. When she moved over to sit next to her, she was carrying a small velvetti bag on her lap.

"Darling, if you ask for it, do you think they will let you visit your Lucifer?"

This time Alastor didn't bother to clarify that it was his Lucifer. He instead stared at the little bag and then at the face of the woman.

"Maybe" said, because he wasn't entirely sure either. In theory the archangels would allow it for him, since they had shown they were invested in whatever relationship they assumed him to have with the devil, but there was no hard garantee. "Why?"

"Do you think he would be able to visit the other Lucifer? If they let my baby boy to see you, then I can only imagine that two Lucifers in the same room would be the same and not affect that awful spell they made."

"I suppose" Alastor frowned, waiting for her to clarify why she needed that.

Evelyn finally opened up the little bag she had, revealing a soft grey stone. The slight movement of the color inside made it pretty obvious to see that it wasn't like any other stone one could pick up from the ground. It was one made from Emily's falling.

"Charlie left this one with me during the meeting" explained Evelyn. "She didn't say anything, but I think it was pretty clear she was hoping I could do something with it. I have asked almost every wish I could think of and reworded them all at least a dozen of times to take all of you from here, but nothing works. The devil might be resourceful as he is, but I am personally tired of waiting for him to come save my son and grandchild. Everyone needs a helping hand sometimes" Evelyn sighed and took the hand of Alastor, putting the stone right at the center of his palm. "Could you… make sure Lucifer gets this? The right Lucifer? I don't ever want to see that look of dissapointment on my son's face ever again. I can't stand it."

Alastor looked down.

"I don't know what I could do" said, sincerely.

"Something has to be done" Evelyn scooched over and kissed his cheek. "You all need to get out of here. I knew that the first time he landed here and that hasn't changed now. You should have never being brought here."

One of Alastor's ears twitched at the familiar words. Lucifer had already said the same thing to him and meant it too.

"Please, could you try, dear?" asked Evelyn and her eyes were glistening, big, soft and just as warm as always. There was no way he could let her down.