#chosen is slightly concerned about it but then finds out about those shenanigans and is like. 'ok yeah it'll be fine'

[i3utterflyeffect]

What if stick!Alan gains powers at some point? He’s fidgeting with a random item and accidentally resizes it somehow, and he just silently stares at it wondering how that just happened and what it means

god that'd be funny. SC is so excited because HOLY FUCK THAT'S SO COOL!!!!! and alan is just unsure if he should be worried about this ability or not. i think it'd be fun if he could do similar things to what agent does with his array of tools as well. plus like. that'd be hella interesting when vic comes around

[pandoras-princess]

Next Best Thing (Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader)

*gif not mine//credit to owner

A/N: Hello my lovelies! 🌸 Welcome to my first ever Peaky Blinders fic, I wrote it ages ago and have just edited it slightly so my apologies if the quality isn’t greaaat but the other parts will be better I promise! 😅 This is an AU fanfic where John never married Martha or had kids before he married Esme and there is no Grace for Tommy andddd the timeline is absolutely wack, I know it’s a lot so if you’re in the market for a traditional by the book Peaky Blinders fic this one is not for you I’m afraid 🤗 also if you’re finding it a bit slow I advise you to hang in there until after the time skip because that’s the better half of this part in my opinion, nevertheless I seriously enjoyed writing this so Happy Reading Peoples! 🥳🥳 as ever I appreciate every like, reblog and follow, feedback is forever welcome 😌

Summary:  Being the bestfriend of Jonathan Shelby meant that you’d grown up attached at the hip. And considering you were hopelessly in love with him, life was eventful to say the least. With John marrying Esme you decide it’s high time you got over him. And as they say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else...

Pairing: (OOC) Thomas Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence, smoking and drinking, mentions of addiction, mentions of sex but no smut I’m afraid

PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR

━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━

Being John Shelby's best friend was definitely not an easy job.

You and John were the exact same age, born on the same day of the same month of the same year, precisely one hour and eleven minutes apart, and since your family only lived one house away from the Shelby's it was a given that you and John would grow up to be best friends.

You were as good as family to them, so when your father was killed in the war and your mother unable to cope turned to the drink and drugs, you were left officially orphaned at age 10 and Polly arranged for you to live with them, raising you as her own.

Growing up with the Shelby's came with it's challenges. They were all fiercely protective of you but no one more so than John. When you were kids he'd beat up anyone that dare made you cry, or sad or angry or anything other than happy really, and as you grew older and began to date he'd scare away anyone deemed not up to scratch, which seemed to be pretty much all of them, threatening violence known around Small Heath as common behaviour for the Peaky Blinders. This meant that you never really had a boyfriend, or many boys interested in you at all for that matter, and any who were rarely had the balls to act on it for fear of the Peaky Blinders wrath. However this didn't bother you much as there was only ever one boy you truly wanted interested in you, the one boy who never would be interested in you.

Of course being a teenage girl you'd had your silly crushes, Tommy being one of them. But they all paled in comparison to what you felt for John.

Being best friends meant that the two of you spent practically all of your time together, did everything together, went through and dealt with everything together. He had always been your shoulder to cry on, your ear to bend, your hugs and smiles and laughs, your safe place. It was inevitable that you'd fall for him. And fall for him you did, painfully obvious to everyone except John himself.

Shortly after your 16th birthday, you were reading a book by the fire, a woven blanket strewn across your legs and a steaming mug of hot chocolate warming your hands when John bursts into the house loud, drunk and jolly. He often snuck out to join his brothers in their shenanigans - whether it be business or pleasure - and you were all too happy to listen to his stories when he came home.

You watched John intently as he regaled to you his latest night out. You watched the corners of his mouth twitch ever so slightly as he spoke, a smug smile tracing his lips every so often. His eyes glistened from the whiskey and his lips were wet. A cigarette clasped lazily between his fingers, his eyes closed for a split second whenever he took a drag. Deep in admiration of the boy sitting in front of you, you didn't quite notice the change of events in the story.

"-and then she walked right up to me and kissed me!"

It was at that point that your attention snapped back, ears pricking up and heart racing as you go over what he'd just said. But too excited to wait, John didn't give you the chance to work out if you had misheard him.

"Well before I know it she's got me in the back alley dress hiked up going at me like a feral she was. Can ya believe it after all this time I'm finally a man aha!" John exclaims, a goofy, ear-splitting grin plastered on his face.

He spares any explicit details, knowing it was no way to talk with a lady no matter how close they are to you or how drunk you may happen to be. Nevertheless, upon hearing those final words coupled with the look of pure elation on his face, your heart shatters into millions of ice cold shards right before your eyes. The pain that was rapidly building in your chest and the image of John with some tart, skirt bunched around her waist fucking like dogs in the alley was too much for you to bear. A wave of nausea washes over you and you stand abruptly, dashing to the loo before the contents of your stomach emptied onto the carpet.

A few minutes later you hear faint knocks on the door.

“Ye alright in there love?” John asks, concern lacing his words.

“All good” you reply quickly, willing your voice to steady itself.

Wiping the sheen of sweat from your forehead you collapse into a heap against the wall, and a sigh escapes your lips as you wrack your brain for the exact moment you had lost him. While John had never shown any signs of liking you, you were always able to draw hope from the relationship you two had, no matter how blind it may have been. Now though, he had dashed that hope, blind or otherwise, as he had given himself to someone else. He had openly chosen not to be with you.

Not to be yours.

Fobbing John off with some excuse about a dodgy dinner you quickly retreat to bed, going without giving him a hug, unable to bring yourself to touch him. And from that day onwards you lived with the knowledge that your love was unrequited. You lived with loving him, and him not loving you.

For the most part it was rather easy. John wasn't the kind for serious relationships - preferring causal sex to the committed kind - so you never really had to deal with any girlfriends or the lark, just the occasional tart interested in him on the rare nights out you tagged along. Even then, you soon learned not to go on any nights out without Ava or Polly present and so the issue of John and his women quickly became dormant. That was, however, until John agreed to marry Esme Lee.

Tommy came to you before asking John, asking for your help in convincing him. He knew John would come to you with it asking for advice before deciding. Tommy explained his plan, marry John off to the Lee girl forcing them to squash the war and join forces to overthrow Billy Kimber. It was simple enough and since you'd already accepted there was never to be a you and John, you agreed.

The time came and sure enough John came to you, confused and somewhat annoyed at Tommy's rough handed approach, and sure enough you stayed true to your word, telling him it was nothing new, people had arranged marriages all the time.

So on he went to marry her, your true feelings unknown to the man.

[2 years later]

"You shouldn't be working here you know. John certainly wouldn't like it" Tommy said, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched you carefully wipe down the bar surface. He was referring to your new job as barmaid in the Garrison and having just finished your first shift you were cleaning up. Last orders had been and gone and every punter had now left the pub, drunk and merry on their ways.

After John married Esme you spent the next two years much to yourself. You embraced the spinster lifestyle and faded away into the passing days. However it was the turn of a new year and to everyone's joy you'd come to your senses, deciding it was high time you stopped wasting your life moping after John. He didn't love you - that much was clear - but somebody out there must and so it was time for you to move on, you thought. Reinvent yourself. This 'new you' started with marching into Tommy's office and demanding the new barmaid job. Surprisingly he offered no resistance, merely a quizzical look at your sudden determination before giving you the job. So here you were, your first shift done and nobody left in the place but you and your new boss.

"Well it might surprise you to know, Mr Shelby, but I don't abide my decisions by what John would or would not like me doing" you reply. Finishing up you leave the cloth on the bar and make your way over to the table, taking the chair adjacent to his.

"Is that so?" He asks, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours as he offers you a cigarette. You accept, bending down slightly to the offered flame and without breaking eye contact, you light the cigarette and take a drag, exhaling as you sit back up.

"Yes, Thomas, that is so" you reply, the use of his name making clear your exasperation with the questioning.

"Very well then, a toast-" he picks up the bottle of whiskey and pours some into each glass, placing one in front of you and taking one himself "-to your new job, and to your new found freedom" he says, locking eyes with you on his last words and clinking your glass before you both down it. If growing up with the Shelby's had taught you one thing it was how to hold your liquor.

Soon you and Tommy were halfway through the bottle and quite drunk, too caught up in the fun to notice. It was now something past 3 in the morning; you and Tommy had been talking, drinking and laughing for nigh on 3 hours now, going through old stories of your childhoods, stories from before you were born and from afterwards, stories of your parents and stories of his.

"So tell me, what is the meaning behind this sudden change in you then?" Tommy inquired, only too happy to see your old self back again.

Before you knew it the whiskey had gotten the better of you and you found yourself telling him the reason. You told him about John, about your love for him, about that night and about how you'd come to terms with it and decided to move on.

"Besides, it's not like he was the first boy I ever liked, so I'm quite sure he won't be the last" you state matter of factly, unaware of the storm you had just brewed.

See, unbeknown to you, Tommy was fully aware of everything you had just poured out to him. He knew about your love for John. He knew the deepest parts of your heart, your mind, your soul. Every crush and fling you'd ever experienced Tommy knew all about it, thanks to a little book you liked to keep hidden under your mattress. You had been detailing all matters of yourself in that little black journal for as long as you could write. Polly happily replacing it when you found your current one full, it was much easier than finding a shoulder to cry on every time you needed one. When Tommy came across it he had no idea what it was, merely out of curiosity did he open it and start reading.

"Oh, who was?" Tommy asked, lighting another cigarette. Following suit you decide to take a minute to weigh up your options, drinking in the smoke as you did.

"You” your voice remains deceptively steady, not wanting the man watching you so closely, so attentively, to become aware of the raging swarm of butterflies occupying your stomach.

"Is that so?" Tommy pulls on his own cigarette, the smoke rising from his lips as his eyes lock onto yours. "So what changed then?" His eyebrow arches perfectly, a smirk gracing his lips.

"You're 4 years older than me! There was no way you'd ever look at me as anything other than an annoying little sister!” You say in a chuckle, the fiery whiskey encompassing all of your thoughts in a humorous glow.

"And if I told you I do look at you as something other than an annoying little sister?" His eyes flick to your lips for a millisecond before returning to your own (E/C) orbs. If you’d have blinked you would’ve missed it, but your full attention being fixed on the man before you meant that you hadn’t.

"Well... that would certainly change things." The possibility of one of your fantasy's coming true ignited you to your very core.

Silently, Tom rises from his seat and offers his hand to you. You take it, and he leads you to his office with the worst of intentions in mind.

[rason-rodd]

Snowmen and Assassins - Older!Damian Wayne x Fem!Reader

Summary: This is Y/N’s first Christmas among the League of Assassins but a monastery of deadly assassins is maybe not the right place to celebrate this winter tradition. 

Author’s note: Bat-Christmas Day 12 ;-) Damian in this story is highly inspired by Batman beyond! Damian as he took his grandfather’s place as leader of the League of Assassins. And I will fight anyone who doesn’t believe Adult Damian will be the most devoted boyfriend to ever exist. (#assassinprincecharming)

Tagged: 100% Fluff

Sitting at the candlelit desk that used to belong to his grandfather, working on a personal project that could not wait, Damian Wayne could hear the unclear yet outraged groans and growls of his counsellor – whose name was Zeh-Ro - echoing outside of the door. He was clearly angry but it was nothing new or surprising.     Lately, and especially since Damian’s reconciliation with his father and your arrival in the Himalayan monastery, the old white-haired man had taken the rude habit to question Damian’s every decision as leader of the League of Assassin in ways that were highly inappropriate for a man of his status. Of course this misplaced attitude was never welcomed or tolerated by the young leader, and each tantrums had all encountered either a stone-cold stoicism or a burning rage. A type of reaction Damian had inherited from his father, Bruce.             “This is highly unacceptable!” Damian sighed, fully aware that his bodyguard, Koru, would not be able to prevent Zeh-Ro from entering his private quarters any longer. “Let me see him!” The heavy wooden door suddenly burst open, making all the soft dancing flames shudder, almost in panic, as if they were aware of the incoming wrath. “What is wrong, Zeh-Ro?”   “This woman … This woman is a disgrace! How dares she?!” The red of his angry face was clashing with the whiteness of his dishevelled hair, a scarlet colour only Y/N and her light-hearted shenanigans could give him. “I’m sure whatever Y/N did it is not that terrible.” Damian declared with a discreet amused smirk. “Not that terrible? Not that terrible?” The old man repeated almost out of breath. “That woman has a knack of bringing shame to herself … and to ourselves … and to our cause. To you. She is a foreign child who knows nothing of our culture, nothing of our traditions. I said it before and I say it again. Her place is not here!” Damian put what he was doing in the drawer of his desk that he slammed almost violently and stood up. But not even his menacing eyes or his towering stature seemed to frighten Zeh-Ro who kept mumbling his anger at him. “Your grandfather would have never approved of her! The league does not approve of her! This silly infatuation needs to end and it needs to end now!”   “No.” Zeh-ro eyes widened suddenly. He had expected more that a single word. He had expected more consideration, even more anger. “No?” Damian didn’t bother to repeat and smoothly close the gap between him and his counsellor in an attempt to establish his undeniable authority on him.           “And from now on I would not tolerate you interfere in my privacy. My love life is none of your concern Zeh-ro, nor is Y/N.”           “But she…” Damian cut him short, tired of hearing and seeing the man. “I will hear no more. Now leave.” Fortunately, he beat a retreat and exited the room while muttering insults in Arabic that Damian chose to ignore. He had other matters to take care of.           Only when the man finally was out of sight, did the leader of the league choose to relax and lose his aggressive austerity. “Will he ever learn?” He asked Koru who almost allowed himself to smile. “I’m afraid not, master.” Damian sighed again and put on his long green kimono that he carelessly knotted around his strong waist. “What has Y/N done again?”     “ I believe it is better for you to see it, master.”

***

In spite of the cashmere gloves you were wearing, your hands were red and freezing just as your cheeks and the tip of your nose. Unsurprising since you had been spending the afternoon playing in the snow with the few children of the league who had been bold enough to follow you in your shenanigans.     Not that it had been your goal all along. In fact, you had never thought about asking anyone to follow you in your “Not so top-secret Christmas mission ” as you had named it when the little rascals had found you baking Christmas cookies in the kitchen this morning and curiously asked what you were up to.           Before that, you had just planned to bake for your lover and decorate a Christmas tree in your shared quarters, away from prying eyes, perfectly aware of the fuss your silly little actions would cause if anyone caught you trying to celebrate Christmas.         But then, the children had simply said, “We’ve never celebrated Christmas.” with their little eyes shining with sadness.      

And so here you were. Building snowmen right under the noses of mighty assassins glaring at you as if you were committing the most awful crime in the world.   Their reactions had hurt you at first, just as many other things they had done – or hadn’t done- since your arrival in the monastery in spite of all your relentless attempts at fitting in. But then you had realised that they should not matter and that you should focus only on the magic, on the happiness of the children by your side occasionally fighting with snowballs and acting - maybe for the first time of their life - as who they truly were, kids.

“Beloved?” You slightly jumped and dropped the small little stone carefully chosen to be the left eye of your snowman on the ground. “Damian.” You didn’t know how to react. Usually, Damian was always there to defend you, finding excuses to all the times your attitude wasn’t appreciated or approved by the league. But there was a difference between forgetting to remove your shoes at the entrance of Ra’s Al Ghul’s temple and celebrating an occidental tradition in a monastery of assassins. Maybe had you gone too far this time. “What are you doing?”         “Look… I know this looks bad. But it’s my first winter here, my first Christmas away from my family and I thought …”           “That you could celebrate it here.” He looked so serious you couldn’t tell if he was mad at you or if he simply was tired of you not being “the right paramour” for him – a term Damian’s counsellor had spit to your face quite a few times. “I get that I might have gone too far this time. I can stop if that’s what you want.”

Damian knelt to pick the little black stone you had dropped and suddenly, much to your surprise and to those around you, placed it on your snowman’s face. “By all means, continue.” And with a gentle timid smile, he turned around to where he came from. You blinked quite a couple of times; unable to believe what you had just seen or to demonstrate all the happiness this small action had given you.           But then you gasped as a huge snowball hit Damian right in the back of his head. “God damn …” He cursed more out of surprise than out of pain and turned back around with a glare you had never seen. Your eyes widened and you looked at the terrorised children who were all pointing at the culprit. Guess boldness and courage had their limits. “How dare you throw a snowball at the Demon’s Head? And behind his back?” He growled, definitely angry and the poor children looked down, petrified. “I guess someone has to teach you how to play fairly.”  

And then a snowball hit your shoulder, making you scream loudly. “Ahhh” But then you saw that Damian was laughing like you had never heard him laugh before. And goodness, how contagious it was. “You’re going to pay for this!” You harrumphed trying to remove the snow from inside your coat. “Choose your partners, kids. This battle is to death.”

***

“I let you win.” Damian declared as he removed his thick leather boots once in your quarters. “Plus you had better partners. Mine were all incompetent. I scored all the points myself.”       “Of course, Dami. Of Course.” You smiled and removed your wool coat to place it by the fireplace where you chose to stay a little to enjoy its welcome warmth after this cold afternoon outside.       “You know. You’re starting to show, beloved.” Damian said as he approached you to lovingly hug you from behind and kiss your neck, his strong hands on your slightly round belly that were keep a four-months little secret no one knew about yet. “Yeah. We won’t be able to keep hiding it for too long.” You put your hands on Damian’s, adoring his sudden proximity and his devotion to you and to your little one growing inside of you. “I guess that’s gonna make some people boil over.”           “Who cares?” He kissed your temple and let his soft lips remain on your skin just to smell its perfume. You let go in his embrace, wondering how this loving man could be the leader of such a deadly organisation. Speaking of deadly organisation …   “By the way, thank you for this afternoon, for defending me again. I know it often undermines you especially in Zeh-Ro’s eyes.” You heard Damian sigh and tense a little before turning you around to face him. “Beloved, when will you realise I do not care about what Zeh-Ro thinks, about what anyone thinks? I’m happy to defend you. At least it shows them that I am not my grandfather and that they can’t expect me to be him.” “ But …” You tried to protest and he gestured you to be quiet with a finger on your lips. “No buts. I love all the things you do here. I love all the love you bring to this place, to me. And I want out child to experience it. I don’t want him to live the joyless loveless childhood I lived.” You smiled at his words but your eyes reflected the sadness he had in his. You knew about his past, about Talia and Ra’s and all the things they made him go through, the exhausting relentless and abusive trainings and the heavy burden they had placed on his young shoulders when he was just a little boy. And so you cupped his cheek and softly kissed him in on tiptoe, keeping his broad body against yours that seemed so tiny and fragile in comparison to his. Though, the most fragile person in this room right now was him.               “I have something for you, beloved.” Damian said as he slowly let go of you for a moment to take something he had left in his desk. “I hope you’ll like it.”

You slightly shook the box he had just given you, curious to know what’s inside. “You know it’s not Christmas yet.”   “I know. It’s not really a Christmas gift” You narrowed your eyes trying to read in his what he was hiding from you. “Just open it.” He chuckled and you grinned, your hands already tearing the wrapping up. It was a wooden small box. “You’re not asking me to marry you, are you?” You asked cheekily and Damian laughed. “Not yet.” He smirked but you chose to ignore it for now, too excited to know what was in the box.

It was a beautiful Christmas tree star, certainly made of crystal judging by how fragile and translucent it looked, and definitely very ancient. “Damian, it’s beautiful.” “You like it?” “I love it!” You corrected as you delicately touched it with your fingertips. “Good. Cause there’s a Christmas tree in the main hall that is waiting for it.” He looked at your eyes brighten instantly and as beautifully and brightly as the star you were holding, glad he could finally make you feel at home as much as you could make him feel at home. “Merry Christmas, beloved.”   “Merry Christmas, Damian.”           Merry Christmas, indeed. 

[musicalmagic]

Quarantine Days [2]

Summary: Coronavirus has arrived to the BTS members and yourself. Grappling with boredom and the reality that, yeah, you really all were stuck in the same place for a while. Ensure that the shenanigans of your days with BTS are recounted here, and please do remember, stay in contact with those you love.

A/N: It’s only chapter 2, and I already have the angst. Hahahahhh, sorry sorry. I promise there’s more good than bad, but frustrations need to come first before the good, no?

* Pairing: BTS (OT7) x reader (Idol Au)

* Word Count: 1,654

* Genre: Angst, Fluff

* Warnings: Coronavirus

1 2

Tag List: @itspwi

It was an early evening, sun only just beginning its decent into the concrete jungle that existed just outside the window of the high-rise apartment. Jungkook and Taehyung decided to play videogames after an easy-going discussion for the next album with the rest of the members, Jimin occasionally popping in to pick on the two when they messed up in Mario Kart races or Street Fighter matches. You were with Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok in the studio fiddling with Cubase and other DAWs for fun, settling on a weird plugin to occupy the time, that distorted whoever’s voice spoke or sang into the microphone.

“Hey, HEY, don’t worrrry ‘bout me!” Namjoon’s filtered voice filtered about the space, while Hoseok was laughing his ass off at the wobbliness of it all, Yoongi had a small smile on his face, and you were around the same state as Hoseok. Clutching onto Hoseok’s shoulder as you balled with giggles like you were being tickled.

Seokjin was in his shared room, happily on his phone when Jimin bursts through the door. The man was so startled that he chucked his phone toward Jimin — who barely managed to duck after he himself was shocked, and the two just stood there in silence. Seokjin nervously smiled, before Jimin took off after him in a jokingly angered way. Running to catch up and managing to snag Seokjin’s jacket that swirled around him like leaves in the wind, pulling him back toward him but instead of wrapping his arms around his waist, was in fact knocked to the ground. Seokjin’s larger frame landing directly on top of him. The men grunted as gravity stomped on them, air escaping their lungs from the impact.

Jungkook waddled out from the living room to find Jimin attempting to shove Seokjin off of him but was failing miserably, grumbling curses under his breath when he realised it was impossible. Taehyung appeared moments later clutching his stomach in hysterics at the sight. Seokjin was laughing as well, which only made Jimin even more pissed. He quickly hooked Seokjin’s right leg around his own and pulled Seokjin’s right arm towards the ground, pushing his other leg upwards in an attempt to get Seokjin off — who completely fell off of Jimin in surprise.

“You alright there?” Taehyung questioned, a tint of glee in his tone. Jimin just glared at him from the floor, looking close to punch him. Seokjin stood up and began to pat his clothes to rid the creases, eyeing the two in front of him and heavily sighing. Glad that Jungkook wasn’t here either.

You and Hoseok, still on about the craziness of distorted Namjoon singing, happened upon the trio’s standstill with Jungkook also coming out to peek at what was going on. Jimin and Taehyung were bickering, while Seokjin just looked like he wanted to run the other way, ears tinted red and staring at anything but Jimin and Taehyung.

You sighed and looked to Hoseok, who had a firm, but unreadable expression on his face. He turned back the way he came.

You all stood still.

Waiting.

  Hoseok returned with Namjoon, Yoongi trailing behind him. With a single nod to everyone, Namjoon successfully dragged everyone to the living room. Jungkook promptingly switching the TV off, as you all settled on the available seats.

“First, what happened before this?”

Jimin huffed, crossing his arms, and simply saying, “Seokjin threw his phone at me.”

“You startled me first by barging into my room!” Seokjin angerly remarked, “Unannounced, might I add.”

“I didn’t know you had a phone in your hand!”

“Maybe you should knock next time then.”

Jimin grumbled again, unable to reply.

Namjoon just sighed into his hand, trying to think what to do.

“We are only two months into this lockdown and already fights are breaking out. You two need to find a way to cool off,” Yoongi chimed in. Namjoon gently nodding next to him.

You sat there in puddle of your own sweat at the idea it was only two months since the lockdown, and there were already conflicts. How can they stay friends in such close proximity in general?

Jimin sat up and headed out of the living room towards his room, and Seokjin did the same. The six of you remaining all collectively agreed to leave the two alone, and went off. Although, the five boys decided on watching a movie, Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung, Namjoon and Jungkook all began scrolling through Netflix while you stared out into space. Furrowing your brows deep in thought.

While lockdown was stressful enough, you wondered if or when it’d get better. This definitely wasn’t a normal honeymoon phase when new events start. In fact, it felt more bickery than flattery.

“Hey ­_____, are you going to watch with us?” Jungkook asked, pulling you out of your head.

“Yeah, sure. Have you guys chosen something?”

Yoongi answered quickly, “We thought a light-hearted movie would be good.”

“So we’re putting on a Disney movie,” Hoseok finished. Namjoon hummed in confirmation, “The Little Mermaid.”

You perked up at that, smiling, “Sounds good! Put it on, put it on!” You excitedly said.

Everyone there chuckled at your reaction, putting the movie on quickly.

--

Pretty much everyone had fallen asleep by the time the movie’s credits had rolled on by. The boys all somehow ended up on top of each other in a cuddle puddle, and you had to wordlessly move their legs off your own to get to the kitchen.

Seokjin was there when you entered, his fingers tapping the mug he held as he drank what was in there silently, brows furrowed in concentration. You paused at the doorway, concerned.

“Seokjin? Are you alright?” He didn’t startle and held firm, only slightly surprised at your sudden introduction.

He looked tired as he answered with an, “I’m fine _____. Thanks.”

You padded over and took out a glass from one of the cabinets, filling it with water when Seokjin asked, “How’s everyone else?”

“Asleep. I don’t know how to get them all to their beds,” you replied while sipping on the water.

Standing a lot closer to Seokjin, you focused on how seriously exhausted the man was. Seokjin is someone who doesn’t vocalise their struggles often, and prefers to show the happier sides of life, and is a calming presence. But you felt that the person in front of you was drained entirely.

So, you put your glass down, and did the same with Seokjin’s, which was easier as it was already on the island. You slid the cup away from him.

“Let’s go to bed Jin.” Seokjin began, “But what abo—”

“I’ll handle them. You need sleep.”

With that, Seokjin headed off to bed, grumbling but still going along with it anyways.

You turned back to the doorway that led to the living room. Ah yay, this’ll be fun. You quickly walked into the room. Noticing first the black TV, how it turned off by itself, and the sleepy forms of most of your friends. Yoongi and Jungkook had managed to end up on top of one another, while Namjoon, Taehyung and Hoseok had all curled around each other. Your first instinct was to yell loudly, but that would wake everyone else up.

With some hesitation, you went with shaking them all from the shoulder. Jungkook, Namjoon and Hoseok woke up easy, eyes drowsy and drooping though, but they all helped you try and wake the last two who were notorious heavy sleepers. At one point, Hoseok had tried jumping onto Taehyung, but just fell off the side of the couch when he landed; Taehyung had just curled further into the fetus position and mumbling incoherent nonsense. Which, to be fair, all of you who were up found hilarious.

Yoongi was the same, well, mostly. He kept between half-asleep and asleep, and you and Namjoon thought by this time Yoongi was just messing with you all.

Instead of Hoseok, Jungkook tried jumping on the two-sleeping people, and actually managed to get Yoongi up. Who just shot up and glared at the maknae. Now it was Taehyung that was still asleep.

Which, Jungkook also handled easily. He resulted to pinching the slightly older man awake.

You sighed in relief, all of them were awake.

Namjoon glanced at everyone as they all yawned, he clapped twice and sent everyone to their rooms.

--

Jimin and Seokjin were tense around each other when morning came. Avoiding the other completely when they could. Namjoon was over the behaviour and called another meeting.

“Alright, you two need to work this out.”

They didn’t even look at each other.

“Answer me guys. I can’t do anything if you don’t talk what’s on your mind, yes?” Namjoon firmly reminded them.

Seokjin huffed, “I’m pissed at him.”

“Why would you be pissed at me? I would be more so! You through your phone at me and sat on me! This isn’t fair Namjoon! Why am I even here?” Jimin angerly spouted at the two.

Namjoon groaned under his breath. Annoyance etched into his expression as the two started arguing again.

“Okay!” You yelled—shutting them up. “Look, Seokjin,” You began, “I can understand why you’d be angry, someone barged into your room without knocking, and I empathise that throwing your phone was a reflex, but not moving when Jimin was struggling underneath you wasn’t nice, yes?”

Seokjin’s gaze drifted from yours, silent.

“Jimin,” you turned to him, “Don’t go into other people’s rooms—even if its shared, you never know if someone is busy, cooling off, or needing space. Always knock.”

“Now, Seokjin apologise to Jimin; Jimin do the same.”

It was nothing short of amazing, how quickly you handled everything. The rest of the boys watching you in fascination, as the two apologised, genuinely so.

As the group dispersed once more, Yoongi and Namjoon had the same thought, “I’m glad she’s here.”

Previous Chapter?

Next Chapter?

[iacon-stargazer]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE: MUN & MUSE

fill out & repost ♥ this meme definitely favors canons more, but i hope oc’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. multimuses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

tagged by: stolen from @oneshallfall like.... months ago. im a slow gremlin hjksd. it's been in my drafts and i finally decided to finish the last few sections while working on clearing them out

tagging: steal it

MY MUSE IS.   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless

is your character popular in the fandom?  YES / NO.

is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  Well.../ NO / IDK. (i know optimus is but i don’t really... know about orion? i have seen a handful of fanartists who turn him into a very sexualized moe baby but i’m not sure about the fandom at large)

is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

are they underrated?  YES / NO. (lmao there’s like no fan content with him unless it’s with megatronus) 

were they relevant to the main story?  YES / NO.

were they relevant to the main character?  YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG.

are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO. (not yet.... lol)

how’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL.

HOW STRICTLY DO YOU FOLLOW CANON?

This... this is a trick question in this goddamn mess of a continuity. That said, I try my absolute best to make my portrayal coherent with the TFP show... even if said show contradicts itself at times. I take inspiration from the earlier parts (the thirteen primes section) of the Covenant of Primus for his origin backstory, but ignore the rest of the Covenant since it makes absolutely no sense with his characterization in... literally anything else. I’ve peeked at Exodus and it utterly sucks, but I’ve picked up bits and pieces of concepts that originated there just from spending time in the fandom. Aside from that... I spend a ton of time thinking about how to weave everything together in a way that both makes sense and makes for a character development arc.

SELL YOUR MUSE! (aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.)

Orion is genuinely kind, thoughtful, and introspective, very loving of the world around him.

He’s also a more complex character than is initially obvious - despite mostly being good sweet pure baby nerd he’s still flawed, with many of those flaws being his strengths put into the wrong situation. His strong morals can lead to dogmatism, and he’s only slightly less likely to deliver lectures than Optimus. His determination to be kind and help everyone can come off as unintentionally patronizing at times; he has a very “well-intentioned semi-privileged middle class” perspective that he’s not always self-aware of. However, he’s also willing to look at himself critically and learn/adapt. 

Essentially, he has many of the same traits as Optimus... just more or less apparent and/or developed. He's less confident than he eventually becomes through his future experience with leadership, wanting to change the world for the better but sometimes struggling to ground his plans in reality—something that continues to apply, but with reduced intensity and frequency over time. Idealistic cinnamon roll will eventually develop some realism, though never really quite enough. His selflessness remains a strength for now, but we know that eventually it will dip into martyristic tendencies.

NOW THE OPPOSITE! (list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?)

He could be potentially ‘boring’ in some senses. he’s the polite, considerate ‘next door’ type, who has for most of his life has just lived as a very average middle caste nobody. He’s more laid-back than he eventually becomes as optimus, but where others might get into trouble and shenanigans he’s most likely to just express concern. And since I try to keep him at least mostly ic, even with non-serious posts, this can derail ‘fun’ stuff and I fear dissuade some interaction.

While I try my best to give him realistic flaws that work with his character, he could still be seen as a little too good. very kind, understanding, forgiving, patient, considerate... almost endlessly so. A lot of my “he’s so good and pure” interpretation comes from using his having been the thirteenth prime as backstory, where he was pretty much the epitome of that, but some might not like the “he was a literal deity in a past life” idea for its “super special chosen one protagonist” elements.

His responsiveness to his environment can also be a downside. He’s not the type to start things; he just reacts and responds, standing his ground and finding himself when things get crazy around him. without megatronus, he may have eventually attempted political campaigning, but it wouldn’t have gotten very far. He needs to have more intense characters or events around him for major plots to really go places. Without those nothing would ever happen besides slice of life fluff, because he’s content with that kind of life.

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO RP YOUR MUSE?  

Honestly I just wanted to write op/ratch fhsjkdjsdh. But I also wanted to be able to interact with a variety of muses and so I chose Orion over Optimus because he’s not so emotionally closed off, which I figured would give more flexibility beyond the handful of characters op would reasonably have close personal and/or plot-important relationships with. Also, I can relate to him on a thought-process level which lets me get into his head easily, which additionally made him an appealing choice for my first real rp muse.

WHAT KEEPS YOUR INSPIRATION GOING?  

I just love him so much, especially with the layers of his character I've built up around him. I don't always have inspiration to write or rp, but I think about him a lot. When I do find motivation to write, it's generally out of wanting to continue to work on developing him and just having a chance to express his characterization.

SOME MORE PERSONAL QUESTIONS FOR THE MUN.

do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO.

do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO.

do you sometimes write drabbles? YES / NO.  (i should do it more...)

do you think a lot about your muse during the day? YES / NO.

are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO. (at least most days fhsdhfskj)

are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO. (it waxes and wanes. I know I'm a good writer but I could still be better...)

are you a sensitive person?  YES / NO.

DO YOU ACCEPT CRITICISM WELL ABOUT YOUR PORTRAYAL?

I’ll be honest; I’ve never gotten criticism. I haven’t been here very long in comparison to some and I’ve never been that popular, so I figure I’m pretty easy to just ignore. I guess how I would feel about it would depend on what it was and how it was delivered, though I like to think I would be reasonable regardless

DO YOU LIKE QUESTIONS, WHICH HELP YOU EXPLORE YOUR CHARACTER?  

yes? yes absolutely?

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES TO A HEADCANON OF YOURS, DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY?  

I would be curious to hear their reasoning, but I think enough about how everything fits together that chances are I would agree to disagree

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES WITH YOUR PORTRAYAL, HOW WOULD YOU TAKE IT?

Depends on if their disagreement makes sense. Maybe I’ll give back my own reasoning for why I characterize the way I do. Maybe I’ll just agree to disagree, if their view is just totally different from mine. If they have valid points I’ll probably overthink it and spiral into self doubt. In all cases I’ll spill my thoughts to friends on discord.

IF SOMEONE REALLY HATES YOUR CHARACTER, HOW DO YOU TAKE IT?

......Orion in general or? ... fhsjkdhf...... Well if it was mine specifically that might hurt lol. But at the same time.... I doubt i’d agree with their takes either so... fair enough.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PEOPLE POINTING OUT YOUR GRAMMATICAL ERRORS?  

Sure. I’m good at grammar so if something glaring is there it’s probably a typo I missed and I’ll be grateful for the chance to edit it out before more people see it lol

DO YOU THINK YOU ARE EASY GOING AS A MUN?  

Yeah. I’m pretty quiet most of the time because I just don’t have energy to talk to a lot of people, and I never want to get caught in drama. I honestly wouldn’t know what to do in a situation like that. I tend to avoid conflict, I’m quick to apologize, and polite with anyone I don’t know very well.

[princess-of-the-corner]

So I’m doing this 100% for fun but like

Remember I mentioned a dream I had after reading to many of those salty “AU where Marinette’s sort of adopted and her bio parent(s) is rich/famous/powerful” of an mlp crossover where Mari’s bio moms are Twilight and Rarity from mlp? Yeah let’s expand on that a little!

Also, while this is kinda salty and has salty origins, this ends up being pretty sugary because that’s the nature of mlp stuff. 

So like there’s some interdimensional fuckery.

A little over 10 years prior to Canon the Equestria and the ML world kinda connected.

Twilight Sparkle, as Princess of Friendship, was sent as an ambassador to the new dimension.

Of course Earth sent someone to Equestria but whatever they’re not important.

Also involved is Twilights wife, Rarity, and lil baby Marinette pony.

Side note: while in Equestria they’re ponies, but interdimensional travel turns them Human in the ML world. Kinda like EQG but they have normal human skin tones.

Anyway! Mari is a lil pink Unicorn, but in the Human world she looks Human. She ends up wearing a lot of pink clothes because she misses her pony coat.

Because of several things, like wanting Mari to have a normal childhood and also some political stuff that her moms want to protect her from, she ends up being taken care of by Tom and Sabine.

I’m gonna say that Twi and Rares met Tom and Sabine through Pinkie, who has a habit of getting low-key adopted by bakers, and had met them through wanting to learn about Earth cuisine (and T&S wanted to learn Equestria cuisine, so it was a win-win).

When Twi and Rares are thinking about this plan, T&S are trying for a kid and haven’t had much luck.

Mari lives with Tom and Sabine for the day-to-day, but Twilight and Rarity visit as often as they can, spending plenty of weekends with their daughter, even if it’s low-key to keep her safe.

As far as Mari is concerned, she has four parents. Twilight=Mom, Rarity=Mommy, Sabine=Maman, and Tom=Papa.

Other than visits with her moms and trips to Equestria, there’s only a couple differences to Mari’s childhood.

First is that she gets visits from other mlp characters too. They don’t cause too many issues because

1.) they know how to not blow her cover and

2.) the ones who would do it accidentally can be reined in.

By that I mean that if Discord starts to act up Mari just says “I’ll tell Auntie Fluttershy” and he nopes the fuck out.

Mari’s classmates think she just has a lot of aunts and uncles with weird names and haircolors, not connecting them to the Pony stuff.

The other thing is that Marinette is a little more confident and somehow even more forgiving. Like, this is shown best in her interaction with Chloé.

Marinette stands up to Chloé from day 1 and doesn’t take her shit. She protects others and shuts down any of her petty schemes. Etc.

But she also doesn’t write Chloé off entirely. Marinette constantly offers her friendship, because she’s grown up with stories about her various aunts and uncles who were like Chloé or far worse, and that they eventually reformed. When she sees Chloé try to change, Marinette welcomes her with open arms and works with her to help her be a better person.

Anyway one more thing for Mari’s childhood before Ladybug: her Cutie Mark!

Marinette’s special talent is her eye for detail. Mostly she uses this to be a designer just like mommy(Rares is so proud!!), but it helps her be an expert at planning and organizing like her mom(Twi is also very proud!!).

Her actual Cutie Mark is an image of a Ladybug threading a needle.

Onto the Canon Timeline!!

Okay! So! Origins happens and Marinette gets the Ladybug Miraculous.

Mari is paranoid that it was given to her because someone found out about her being a Unicorn Princess. So she interrogated the hell out of Tikki.

Tikki’s like “okay I didn’t know that. I knew you had powerful Magic and that explains it but no. You were chosen for general compatibility with it!”

Ladybug’s secret identity lasts until Twi and Rares visit because they’re like “honey why are your earrings a powerful magic artifact???”

“Our little girl is all grown up and using Magic jewelry to save the world! Just like her moms!!”

So the whole family knows. Tikki does say that it breaks the rules, but there’s not much that can be done because of the circumstances.

Mari’s parents all kinda debate on whether or not she should try and figure out Chat Noir’s identity.

Twilight and Sabine argue that they would feel better if they knew who the boy was so that they could trust him. Twi’s reasoning is more “while you trust him now, your teamwork will grow stronger as you learn more about each other!” while Sabine’s is more “I want to make sure he’s not some creep/entitled dudebro.”

Rarity and Tom are okay with the mystery. Tom because obviously whoever chose Chat Noir to be a hero saw the same things in him that they saw in Marinette when making her Ladybug, so of course he must be a good guy. Rares just loves the drama of the whole thing! Secret identities! Romance! Etc.

Tikki is the deciding vote on that, saying it’s supposed to be secret.

That also doesn’t last long. Because Mari tells Rares about the crush on Adrien. And naturally Rares has to meet the boy! And they notice his ring and yeah…

She tries to keep the secret but as much as she loves the drama, the fact that her daughter is actually sad thinking Adrien isn’t interested in her when he absolutely is just breaks her heart.

Whoops the lovesquare is solved real early! Like, ‘sometime in Season 1 early’.

Of course they bring Adrien into the whole ‘secret royal horse family’ thing.

Mari’s a little scared on that because species difference.

Like, in Equestria interspecies relationship isn’t an issue because it goes by the basic ‘Harkness Test’ rules. So her interest in Adrien is normal to her.

But some Humans get weirded out by the idea so she didn’t know how Adrien would react.

It throws him for a loop but he’s cool with it!

This also involves telling Gabriel about the horse girlfriend.

Lucky for him, he decided to leave the Butterfly Miraculous upstairs during dinner or else he would’ve been found out too.

Anyway, the whole ‘royal horse princess’ thing is definitely enough to make Marinette a good candidate for dating Adrien. So Gabriel is okay with the relationship.

It also helps that Gabriel and Rarity actually somehow get along. She’s used to stuck up rich people so she can play his games without getting frustrated, and she can discuss fashion with him!

They get into a long discussion about Equestria fashion vs. Earth fashion, and Mari is sitting there taking notes because her goal is to make a fashion line that incorporates both dimensions!

Gabriel is kinda low-key thinking about how they’d make powerful Akumas, but tbh… magic horses are things he doesn’t want to risk messing with. Yeah they’d be powerful, but if they go rogue or have issues with merging the different types of Magic… it could be a bad time.

That said, he does try to low-key find out if Twilight and Rarity know of any Magics that might help him save Emilie other than the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous. He doesn’t ask outright as he doesn’t want to tip his hand, but he feigns curiosity in some subjects.

They don’t tell Gabriel about the superhero thing because Adrien begs them not to, knowing that he’d try to stop him if he found out.

One more thing that changes is Mari and Adrien’s relationship with Master Fu as a mentor!

Because of Twilight’s experience with Celestia as her mentor, Marinette is encourage to question Fu’s decisions. 

They quickly realize that yeah, Fu’s not always right. In fact, he’s fucking up a lot. 

Fu and Twilight can get along as ‘protectors of Magical Artifacts that could either save the world or cause doomsday’. They debate about methods, and while Twilight agrees with Fu’s logic, she can also to get him to see the flaws in it. 

So. Outside of occasional pony stuff and various shenanigans involving the ‘aunts and uncles’, and the fact that Adrienette is canon, not much changes. I’ve written outlines for other AUs where Adrienette was Canon early on, so y’all can go dig those up. And I can’t think of specific instances where weird Pony stuff happens outside of like, Marinette’s birthday or something.

But this did start from a salty dream so we gotta get to Lila being a fuck.

Lila comes in and does her usual shit.

She lies about knowing Ladybug and various other celebrities. Of course.

She tries to flirt with Adrien. He turns her down as soon as he realizes because he’s in love with Mari. This gets Mari on her radar.

Between that, and Mari calling her out on her lies, Lila decides to try an ruin her.

So, Mari and Adrien’s responses to this are a little different than Canon.  

Marinette feels comfortable telling Adrien that Lila threatened her. So he’s not going to sit by and be quiet since he knows this is a threat, not just a girl lying for attention.

Despite the threats, both are too soft and sweet to write off Lila completely. Especially Mari, oddly enough. As I said. She grew up with stories about her aunts and uncles that changed for the better. So the two of them think that they might be able to be friends with Lila.

That said, they don’t put up with her shit. They call her out when she lies, and don’t tolerate her lying and manipulating people. It doesn’t usually work because Lila is good at thinking up more lies and turning it around, but they try.

The idea that Marinette hates Lila out of jealousy over Adrien is slightly more believable, because the classmates never saw Marinette be jealous before.

Chloé stopped ‘flirting’ with Adrien as soon as he and Mari got together because she respects Adrien as a friend. She makes it clear that they’re just friends and her flirting is mostly joking/possessiveness, and the relationship itself is the first thing that helps Chloé want to change so she can not lose Adrien over being mean to Mari.

Kagami was a little interested in Adrien, but shut it down as soon as she found out that he was dating Marinette, so she and Mari never got off on the wrong foot with jealousy, becoming friends rather quickly. (Mari might have tried to set her up with Luka after she rejected him but you know.)

Mari is usually nice to Adrien’s fangirls, barring any creepy actions.

So this is the first time the class is seeing her react to a ‘legitimate threat’ to the relationship.  

Now, while I like salt stuff, I don’t go full ‘the classmates durn into worse bullies than Chloé ever was because they’re convinced Mari is bullying Lila and believe Lila’s word like gospel’ thing.

I could go on a hell of a rant about how that’s a lot of victim blaming but that’s for another time.

Anyway, the classmates are still friendly with Marinette, but they are frustrated at her fighting with Lila. And Lila is lying, manipulating, orchestrating events to make it look like Mari attacked her, etc. It would take a decent amount of manipulation and gaslighting the class to get them to think Mari’s actually horrible, so this is a long-term plan.

One of the biggest things she does in the meantime, is try to isolate Marinette. If she sees someone talking to her, suddenly Lila needs their help with something! She tries to schedule hanging out with the class on days that Mari’s busy. Or just says she’s uncomfortable with Mari being at a hang out, so don’t invite her to this one(it works on smaller hangouts and ones where they’re at someone’s home, but big groups don’t work.). If she is forced to interact with Marinette directly, she starts a fight and blames Mari.

There’s a lot of tension. But Marinette learned from the Princess of Friendship herself. This can be mended, once they figure it out.

This all comes to a head when it comes time for the Class Trip.

The class gets permission to go out of the country, and Marinette suggests Equestria!

Her thought process is

1.) they can help mend things by learning about Equestria’s history and importance of Friendship.

2.) Despite the recent hiccups in their friendship, Marinette loves and trusts most of the class enough to tell them about the ‘I’m secretly a Pony Princess’ thing. And taking them to see Equestria is a good idea to help hammer it in and really wow them!

The school board is hesitant at first, because Equestria is technically another Dimension and all. But they tell her ‘if you send a letter to the Equestrian Government and they say yes, then okay’.

So Mari just calls up her mom and asks. Twilight is immediately planning the trip’s itinerary!

When Marinette announces it to the class, they’re all estatic.

Lila, of course, lies about stuff.

She claims that she went to Equestria before and when turned into a Pony by dimensional Magic stuff, she was totally an Alicorn!

Mari calls so much bullshit on that.

Because the only ways to be an Alicorn are either being born one, which means she’d have to be related to the Royal Family and that’s impossible, or Ascending, which is so goddamn rare.

Not to mention that even if a Human who crossed over became an Alicorn legitimately, that would’ve been major news.

Thankfully most of the stuff Lila lies about regarding culture/celebrities in Equestria/etc are either things Mari can spin as ‘actually that’s a misconception’ and redirect the class to real facts, or something that is coincidentally true, just fuckin buck wild.

When it comes time for the actual trip, Twilight and Rarity show up personally! Partly because they have to, as the link between Earth and Equestria, but also to see Mari and dote on her, glad to formally meet all her friends!!

The class begins to notice things when they are actually transported to Equestria.

First, they notice that Mari seems way too friendly with Twi and Rares. Like, yeah she’s a friendly person, but this is excessive.

They also notice that Marinette is a bit… too used to walking around as a Pony and using Magic, while everyone else is like ‘fuck how do hooves work???’.

There’s, like, a half second after they first go through the portal and are transformed where it seems like Lila wasn’t lying, as she looks like an Alicorn.

But then Twilight recognizes ‘Oh. You’re not an Alicorn. You’re a Changeling. I understand the disguise, as some Ponies are still a bit wary of Changelings, but you shouldn’t go around as an Alicorn as that will get you some unwanted attention and cause a lot of issues!’.

Everyone asks about that, and Twi happily explains that Changelings are shapeshifters!

So like, the excuse here is that Lila didn’t lie about going to Equestria before. She did once a few years ago with her mom. But she was a Changeling, not an Alicorn. She’d hoped that she’d be able to trick the classmates, and possibly even Twilight, but didn’t count on being called out so soon!

Unfortunately, everyone believes the reason Twilight accidently gave instead of the ‘Lila’s a dick’ thing. Mari’s frustrated because ‘damn it mom!’ but you know.

Side notes: What kind of Pony everyone is and their Cutie Marks!

Marinette: Pink Unicorn. Cutie Mark is a Ladybug threading a needle.

Adrien: pastel green Pegasus. Cutie Mark is a fencing saber with a neon green pawprint behind it.

Chloé: Black with white markings Crystal Pony. Cutie Mark is a golden crown, but with honeycomb shapes. (Basically imagine Diamond Tiara’s Cutie Mark, but gold and with hexagons instead of circles on the ends)

Alya: orange Unicorn, Cutie Mark is a Wifi signal with a foxtail

Nino: Deep green Earth Pony, Cutie Mark is headphones with a turtle shell

Juleka: Purpleish-black Unicorn, Cutie Mark is a mirror with claw marks behind it/

Rose: pink Earth Pony, Cutie Mark is a rose but the stem is real curly

Nathaniel: lavender Earth Pony, Cutie Mark is a tablet pen and a feather quill (Ya boi has so much trouble attempting to draw!!)

Alix: light blue Pegasus, Cutie Mark is a pocketwatch with wings

Mylene: tan Pegasus, Cutie Mark is a mouse-like theatre mask

Ivan: dark blue Earth Pony, Cutie Mark crossed drumsticks with a pair of ox horns above it.

Kim: red Pegasus, Cutie Mark is a star with a staff weapon in front of it.

Max: brown Unicorn, Cutie Mark is a computer screen in a horseshoe.

Sabrina: Turquoise  Earth Pony, Cutie Mark is a dark turquoise notebook with a purple diamond on it.

Lila: orange Changeling. No Cutie Mark. Uses a foxtail design when transformed to look like a regular pony.

So, as I said, the class is realizing that Marinette is a little too comfortable in Equestria. They eventually ask.

Marinette explains the whole ‘Okay, so didn’t tell you because I didn’t know to trust you guys, and then after I did trust you I wasn’t sure how to tell you but actually…’.

She goes over the whole ‘Twi and Rares are the bio moms, Tom and Sabine are her sort-of-adoptive parents but all four are parents to her’ thing.

Everyone’s like ‘Wait… you’re actually a Pony???’ then they’re like ‘HOLD HE FUCK UP YOU’RE A PRINCESS???’

Lila does kinda try and spin the whole ‘oh she didn’t tell you guys’ thing, but Twi and Rares explain the whole thing was about keeping Mari safe. And if certain people found out about her, it’d be bad.

Time for a little bit of the trip itinerary!

The first few days are spent in Ponyville, with the class staying in Twilight’s Castle.

I feel like I should mention that the last couple seasons of mlp aren’t canon to this timeline but whatever.

While they’re enjoying the sights and learning about Equestria, a chunk of the time is spent learning about how to be Ponies. How to walk on four legs and function with hooves, and how to use their various Magics. Nothing too wild. Just flight lessons for Pegasai, controlling strength for Earth Ponies, and basic spell casting for the Unicorns (along with control so they don’t blast something.).

Lila already knows how to use her Changeling spell stuff, unfortunately.

Marinette does discuss Lila with Twi and Rares.

They go into mom mode and are ready to throw down, but don’t.

Twilight asks them to just keep an eye on what Lila says, correct her if she lies, and maybe also ban her from shapeshifting?

Thankfully, Twilight is smart. She knows that banning Lila from shapeshifting altogether might end badly because there’s have to be questions of why. But she can subtly tag Lila with a specific ban.

Basically, Lila’s Magic will malfunction if she tries to shapeshift into Marinette, any of the classmates, or some of the more important Ponies. Lila won’t know about it unless she tries to do that specifically and finds she can’t.

Lila does, of course, try exactly that. She attempted to change into Marinette and be a jerk, but didn’t even get that far.

When she complains, Twilight just handles it by saying that it’s standard that Changelings nearby Royals and such have that ban.

Other highlights of the trip:

They hit some major cities in Equestria. Like the Crystal Empire, Manehattan(Which annoys Chloé a little because ‘I got to go to Manehattan before Manhattan fuck you mom!), Cloudsdale. And eventually, Canterlot!

Meeting various Royals is a trip in itself. I mean, this is Magic Pony Royalty!! But they’re also absolute dorks.

Adrien gets heckled by all of Marinette’s Aunts and Uncles and he’s a little terrified but loves her.

Diamon Tiara attempts to adopt Chloé somehow. Spike reminds her that Chloé does technically have parents back home, but Diamond’s like ‘no! she reminds me of me so much!!!’.

They get to see a Wonderbolts show in Cloudsdale, and a play on Bridleway.

As usual with me and ML fics, Chloé figures out that Mari and Adrien are LB and Chat. She had some strong suspicions before the trip, but after seeing the Cutie Marks of both them and other suspected Heroes, she’s like ‘you motherfuckers!!’.

Later on once they’ve gotten used to being Ponies, they get to go to the old Castle in the Everfree Forest, which is currently half archeological study, and half ‘training for all those bullshit Indiana Jones-like traps that Pony Archeologists have to deal with’. Which means it’s basically an obstacle course!

The final MANE event is an invitation to the Grand Galloping Gala!! With Rarity making all their outfits because she’s GENEROUS like that!!

Last plot point: Lila.

Of course Lila’s lies will be revealed somehow. But tbh…. Since this is a mlp crossover, I sort of want to try giving her some kinda redemption.

I think the best way to do that is to be able to feel the emotions. I mean, Changelings are empaths, basically. She can now physically feel what others feel about one another.

I mentioned in TMOLR that Lila’s lies are part of a cycle. She lies to make people love her, but they don’t love her, just the lies. So she continues the lie to keep the love.

With her empathy powers, she can feel that the love aimed at her is no different than the love they aim at each other. And at first, she brushes it off as her fooling them too well.

It’s actually only once the lies are exposed that she begins to realize that, despite the anger and betrayal her classmates feel, they still care. They still, on some basic level, love her.

She’s not going to be free of consequences, but she might be able to turn it around.

Legit though, I think a mlp crossover is the only time I can genuinely think of having a Lila Redemption because of the kind of bullshit the Ponies have done with redemptions.

[impishnature]

Ineffable

AO3 Fandom: Good Omens Rating: T Summary: The notpocalypse is over. They've won. They can finally rest. Only, Crowley notices that Aziraphale doesn't seem to have gotten the memo. He just hopes that its not him the angel has changed his mind on. Warnings: Discussions of Falling.

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There was something distinctly off about Aziraphale.

Crowley couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was though. It was like a sudden shift in perspective, a hall of mirrors that didn't quite resemble reality. Nothing had seemingly changed and yet the world was tilted ever so slightly, knocked off kilter, drastically but invisibly altered. Still, he felt propelled to act as usual, to pretend that this was all ordinary for them instead of nauseatingly wrong. 

And so he danced around the issue, distracted and simpered and snarked. It was his way. To pretend, to observe, to hide behind his mask and let his mind turmoil whilst his face smiled a confident, cheeky expression to the world and to his angel. 

And he was so in turmoil, so scared, so nervous as to what it all could mean. He pushed and pushed and yet his angel drifted further and further away from him. He'd thought it would be different now. Thought that their arrangement could become something more now that they had chosen where their loyalties lay- chosen their side. Them against the world, against heaven and hell. It had all seemed so brilliant and perfect and everything he'd so desperately hoped for.

Only it wasn't. 

But it also was.

A dream within a dream and he so desperately wanted to hold on to it, so desperately in fact, that he was scared to question what all... this meant.

His every step edged fleetingly across a tightrope that served as a double edged sword as he watched the angel go about his every day. He'd wound his way into that every day, slinking soft and charming until his presence was a norm, until exasperation turned fond and endearing. But now he could only watch. Watch and wait for the fall, for the opening chasm of doubts to fill him up and for whatever was happening to finally reveal itself in all it's terrifying glory.

Perhaps he already knew, deep down, what the problem was. The fault, the fissure. It had always been there after all, stopping them moving forward. He'd hoped they'd bridged the gap, hoped that all this had meant that Aziraphale felt the same way but, perhaps-

Perhaps that was not the case.

Perhaps he'd projected- insinuated- crept into Aziraphale's home and life until there was nothing he could do or say about it anymore. 

Perhaps. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps-

"Crowley?"

"Hmm?"

Crowley snapped out of his musings, his elbow slipping from the back of the sofa where he'd been resting it and in return it had supported his head, which now came crashing down into the plush furnishing without anyway to stop it. He heard the soft laugh of his bastard of an angel and for a second, things were back to normal, better than normal- how things should be. He groaned pitifully, glasses askew as he glared up at the still chuckling man.

"My dear, you really do fall asleep in the strangest of positions."

Crowley bit down on his tongue, bit down on the words that wished to pour out. The indignation first, how he hadn't been sleeping, how he'd been watching him potter about the bookshop. How it had been relaxing and peaceful at first, until Aziraphale had picked up a book and frowned distastefully and the sour expression hadn't seemed to leave even when he went back to what he'd been doing that normally gave him so much joy. He'd seen the man try to find the best in every scripture he'd ever picked up, anything to compliment, to give humans their due credit for whatever they had created and yet he couldn't seem to muster it that day and Crowley had watched, and slowly his thoughts had turned on him-

But that was all too much. Too much communication, too much honesty. The indignation he could muster, he could swallow that down easily but the shame of being known? Of being worried? It didn't matter that it was Aziraphale, and it didn't matter how he acted- admitting it was another story altogether that he would not stand by.

It would also open up the floor for further discussion, pull the wool from both their eyes to present them with that indisputable something that still rested between them and he wanted to pretend- just for a little longer, just for a few more millennia if he could stomach it. He'd waited so long for this, he'd gone through the grief of losing him once already that the thought of it all over again- but this time as acid from the angels own mouth- he wasn't sure he could bear it. 

He'd rather drink holy water than have those words pour from Aziraphale's lips onto his own. 

I'm sorry but-

He was sure it would hurt less too.

"Crowley? Are you sure you're alright?"

Crowley blinked as a warm palm pushed the hair from his forehead, light fingertips pressing softly against his skin. His eyes focused once more on Aziraphale's face, eyebrows furrowed in concern and worry as his eyes darted across him. He couldn't help the pang of relief in his heart, the doubts slipping ever so slightly back into the recesses of his mind. 

Maybe it was all in his head after all. Perhaps there was nothing wrong at all. 

And yet there was something there, something indescribable in the depths of the other's deep blue eyes. A dark spot buried at the bottom of the ocean that Crowley knew hadn't been there before. 

But perhaps, he could do something about it. Hadn't he always been good at temptations? At distractions?

The hand on his forehead slipped down to cup his cheek, warm and heavy and still filled with a concern that seemed to vibrate out of every pore and into his skin. He shifted towards it, pressing his lips against a palm and watching from behind shadowed lenses as the deep set frown lines melted back again in soft relief at the trace of an unseen smile against a hand. 

"Just a bit distracted. Dinner?"

The darkness deep in Aziraphale's eyes seemed to lighten, shifting to warmer waters and tropical climes. "Hungry? What do you fancy?"

"Whatever you want. Surprise me." Crowley huffed out a laugh as the other mulled over the possibilities, bright smile forming as his hand slipped away. It was colder without its presence against his face but at least his angel seemed to be back in the room with him, instead of far away in his own thoughts.

The doubt still lingered though, ever present, resting at the base of his skull, even as his distraction worked it's miraculous wonders on the other.

Whatever it was, he was sure it could wait. Just for a little while longer.

...He was so good at pretending.

.

The feeling never truly went away, it only seemed to get worse. 

It was strange to watch his magic work, to see bright moments of joy and laughter, only for it all to dissipate moments later without discernible reason. 

To watch as a smile fell as soon as prying eyes were thought to no longer be around. When laughter trailed off into an awkward half puff of air that denoted the taste of ash and despair of a comment not hitting the mark quite as it should. To feel lingering hands that pulled away just that second too early as if the touch burned. To feel kisses that lingered on his neck and then flinched slightly away as if the action had never been justified. 

He'd hoped it was just him getting used to the change. The interactions they were now allowed between them and had never been before. That dreaded feeling that they were doing something wrong when they weren't, when this couldn't be wrong- not something this pure that they had both waited so patiently for. 

But the strange disjointed motions seemed to be getting worse, not better. More uptight instead of more relaxed.

And every single movement tugged at his heartstrings, told him that now they could do this, his better half was realising that it was never meant to be.

The reality could never live up to their expectations.

Or well- not Aziraphale's. Crowley had always tried to stop himself from hoping, from yearning. Anything, everything was better than he had ever let himself imagine. Which was why it was so difficult to bring up the rather large elephant in the room that seemed to be growing larger and larger each day. 

He almost wanted to ring up Anathema, or Newt- some human who might actually get the weird rush of, quite frankly, human emotions he seemed to have been saddled with and rather desperately needed to get rid of so that he could just enjoy the moment.

But knowing them, they'd threaten him with Adam, who could actually put an elephant in the room until he took charge of the situation and spoke to Aziraphale about- well, everything, that was between them.

Honesty really wasn't a demon's best policy though. And quite honestly, he was also sure it never led to anything good.

All it would lead to was- well, something outside of their new normal.

And as stilted as that could be, it was still better than anything he could have ever hoped for.

If Aziraphale wanted him gone, he could surely stay oblivious until he came out and said it, right? He could let Aziraphale continue to lead him on, to tempt him, if it meant letting him stay within his orbit for just a little while longer... right? That wasn't that selfish, was it? To wait until Aziraphale finally voiced all of his doubts about them? 

And if it was selfish well... out of the two of them, he thought he had the most right to be.

.

Oh no, this is it.

Crowley could see it on his face, see the words stuck tight to the tip of his tongue. 

They had been out for a walk, just the two of them in the summer sun, no real rhyme or reason, just a soft wander through the back streets of London. It had been peaceful, quiet. A warm tranquil pace to both conversation and motion as they chatted inanely about old times, about places they'd visited before and their childish amusement at all the shenanigans they'd accidentally, or in some cases purposefully, caused. 

It was teasing, bright and charming in the freedom of it all. Of being able to be out in the open, speaking about the arrangement without fear of the angels and demons who might hear them and realise that they weren't quite who they were meant to be, that they were pushing the boundaries of their respective positions to be who they needed and wanted to be more than duty could ever dictate.

But the summer sun had gone behind a cloud, a strange gloom pushing through their conversation as they walked past another familiar place. Instead of continuing their earlier jokes, the cajoling of where to go next and amused jabs at each others expense, Aziraphale had stumbled to a halt, eyes locked painfully on what Crowley had hoped would be a fond memory for the both of them.

He knew what was there without turning his face away from Aziraphale's tempestuous gaze. He'd slowly been gravitating near it, thoughts on an old warmth that he hadn't acknowledged at the time but had kept close to his chest as a keepsake for all time after. It had been such a nice afternoon of old stories that he had hoped this would be another one. The area looked different, not just because he was seeing it in daylight now against the last time they were there, but because the rubble had been removed. The debris, the chunks of stone and wood had been replaced, rebuilt, shattered glass painstakingly recreated, refreshed with new life and flickering colours.

Crowley remembered watching on fondly, walking past more than once after their clandestine meeting there. Humans were always so ready to rebuild and keep moving forward, that he couldn't help but stand and marvel at how much they could achieve in such small lifespans.

And how strange it was, how times changed but stayed the same. How moving forward didn't mean completely forgetting the past. Throughout the years, the generations, humans clung to familiarity even if they had never seen what had been before. How children grew to repeat what older generations had built, all in an attempt to keep that connection, that small, fragile thread of life and death and everything that came with it. Ancestry was such a foreign concept, and yet it fascinated him in the intensity with which humans built their lives upon it. 

Sometimes it surprised him, that yearning to keep what had been there before, but it couldn't surprise him nearly as much as the nostalgic expression on his angel's face slipping into something more pensive, more regretful and distant as his eyes locked with the building before him. It made Crowley's heart beat in his chest, a feat that rarely came about as there was no need for it. He found himself holding his breath too, a sinking pit in his stomach opening up as he finally tore his eyes from the other's conflicted gaze and turned to the church before them.

It wasn't the church they had once been in. Not the one that he had danced haphazardly down the aisle of, in pain, at his own expense to help his rather oblivious angel. No, that one had been reduced to rubble, that very same night. He hadn't thought to try and save it, it held no sentiment to him. A church was just a building, one that was hellbent on reminding him of his past misdeeds. No, all that he had felt the need to save was a small suitcase of books that had fallen behind the conversation forgotten, only remembered in a burst of shock and disappointment as his counterpart believed them gone.

It was the warm feeling after, that he had hoped to expand upon by his wayward feet bringing them here. That flush of relief and gratitude- and dare he say it, love- that he had felt on the small of his back as he took his leave and left the angel standing with his arms full of books and his heart filled with him.

What could he say? He was a hopeless romantic somewhere deep in the hell fires of his soul. Or perhaps he just liked to think that the soothing aura of love around his angel sometimes really was just for him and not everyone and everything else at the same time.

Which made it all the worse, that there was the bitter tang of despair in the air around them now, a cloying cloud of remorse that stuck to his exposed skin like a film, and lingered slimy and cold against the back of his hand where it brushed so closely against the others listless one. It would take just the slightest motion to touch, to twine their hands together, but the fear of the burning cold stopped him, the pain of the frost that might entail kept his hand tightly at his side.

It hurt enough as it was, to feel the puffs of cold against the back of his hand, feel it in the hairs on the back of his neck and in the deep seated shudder down his spine.

He didn't think he could bear to truly feel the remorse, the knowledge that what he thought he knew was wrong. That they didn't feel the same way about the memory, that he had projected too loud and too hard and that now the truth would break him. 

You go too fast for me.

He wished he could take it all back. Rewind his wayward feet bringing them here. Take them somewhere else, somewhere less significant. Or at least a different kind of significance. Not this, not this moment that obviously brought so much pain and made Aziraphale think- really think about everything between them. 

He wasn't ready for him to choose. Aziraphale wanted to go back, for whatever reason that he would never understand, he wanted to be with them instead of him. And he wasn't ready. Wasn't ready for him to say the words that he knew were coming-

"Crowley..."

Well, he understood the not wanting to be with him bit. That made a jarring amount of sense. He'd never deserved an angel, not his angel, not after everything, not after falling- why had he ever thought that this could work, could last-

"...Do you think- that is- why-"

Crowley tried to tune in, tried to lock on to the words, but there was a screaming in his ears that told him just to run. To slither off into the darkness and pretend he'd never heard any of it.

He was good at pretending. Maybe if he ran, he could keep on pretending, just for a little longer-

"Why haven't I fallen yet?"

Crowley blinked.

Then blinked again.

The screaming in his ears had stopped. In fact the whole world seemed to have gone into a deathly hush. He was pretty sure he hadn't stopped time again, but the way the world seemed to have stopped moving he really couldn't be sure.

Especially when Aziraphale was staring at the church still, unblinkingly, his eyes wide and his breathing non-existent as if the world could crumble around him and he wouldn't even notice. Like another bomb could fall around his ears and he'd just stand there and let it happen. 

Crowley had no idea what was going on anymore.

"I'm Sssssorry?"

Aziraphale seemed to snap out of it at the word, the hiss of an alarmed snake enough to bring him to some of his senses. He shook himself, turning back to Crowley with a sheepish expression, but there was no real smile, and the abyss of his thoughts was swirling in his eyes again. "I just- shouldn't it have happened by now?"

Crowley continued to stare at him, the angel's nonchalance betrayed by the tightness of his shoulders and the tremor that shifted through his arms. In response, Crowley's arms moved without thought, resting hands on the others sleeves, soothing the shakes with soft motions that made Aziraphale smile sadly back at him, not reassured but accepting of the gesture, as if they both agreed on what he had said. in reality, Crowley couldn't make heads nor tails of the question, let alone the thought that must have been behind it.

"Can you repeat the first question? I don't think I heard you right."

"Crowley-"

"No, I mean it." Crowley shook his head at Aziraphale's raised eyebrow, a disbelieving look that normally Crowley would be amused at conjuring, but right now he couldn't find it in him to be pleased. "What should have happened by now?"

Aziraphale bit his lip, clearly taken aback and off guard. He turned his head away, eyes flitting back for a second to the church before darting away again, the biting cold returning and fizzling up Crowley's arms like a bath of ice cold water from where they connected to the other. "Nothing. Doesn't matter."

"It obviously does. Angel-" Crowley frowned as Aziraphale winced, pulling back from him ever so slightly. "I mean-"

Why haven't I fallen yet?

The words finally permeated. The gasp of air that left him, puffing out the ice that had swirled and mingled between them, felt like a punch to the gut, a sudden despairing pain rumbling out of his throat at even the thought, the mere suggestion-

"Crowley? What are you doing?"

Crowley blinked, his feet once again propelling him forward without his consent, his hand tight around Aziraphale's wrist. But once again he was in agreement as he tugged them both onwards, his words sharp and broaching no argument as he whisked them back away from the church that should have held fond memories and not sudden nauseating and absurd conclusions.

"I think we need to talk."

.

"Crowley, just- will you please forget I said anything?"

"Nope." The doors to the bookshop opened without a touch, as if flinching away from the demon who dragged their unwitting owner over the threshold like a scolded child. They slammed once they were both through, the very floor shaking slightly with all the fear an inanimate object can muster as the need for privacy snapped the 'closed' sign around with the same motion. It was only the sound of the lock clicking that seemed to bring Crowley back to his senses, the subconscious miracles he had just conjured escaping his knowledge, before he dropped Aziraphale's hand as if it burned and spun round to face him.

There was a manic gleam to him, he knew it, he could feel it in the tremor in his fingers, the tap of his foot and the dilation of his pupils hidden behind his glasses. He could feel his control slipping away as the words he had expected to hear mingled with reality, a far worse one it seemed, and rattled violently around his head so that he could never escape them.

No matter what he wanted, no matter what he had dreamed they could be, there was never a part of him that had ever or would ever want Aziraphale to fall. He didn't deserve that- could never deserve that. 

Not his angel. 

He might be a bastard, but he wasn't that much of a bastard, he never could be.

He pulled his glasses off, scrubbing at his eyes as if he could physically push the awful suggestion from his skull, before glaring pointedly at Aziraphale. He took grim satisfaction at his stunned shock in response.

"My dear, it really isn't that serious..." The lie hung between them, small and weak and so obviously false that at least he had the decency to look contrite at their utterance. Or perhaps it was the raised eyebrow he had received and the deadpan expression that had him sheepishly looking away from Crowley.

"Now what'sss all this about falling?"

Aziraphale scrubbed at his forearm, eyes still firmly glued to the floor as Crowley started to jitter more, his energy off the charts against Aziraphale's lacklustre movements. "...It would just make sense, that's all."

"Make sense? Make sssenssse?" Crowley raised his arms, dramatic as ever as he started to pace. He knew that he needed to calm down, that getting heated was not helping his tongue do what he wanted, nor would it help him win any arguments. "You're not making sss-sense, angel!" 

"It makes complete sense." Aziraphale snapped, the words bringing Crowley up short, his feet stuttering to a halt along with his heart which he hadn't even realised had been beating in tandem to his jittering movements. "After everything I've done- everything we've done? I mean, surely- It only stands to reason- I shouldn't be an angel anymore, right?" The words were coming out in short puffs of panic, Crowley instantly flitting over to him when his wide blue eyes grew wider still, grew watery and bleak, darting around, searching for some kind of attack. "It doesn't make sense that I haven't fallen- why haven't I fallen, Crowley?"

"Hey, hey..." The words were soft, placating, his fingers curling around the other's cheeks to stem the panic gushing from his lips. "You don't deserve to fall, nothing you've done means you deserve to fall."

Aziraphale laughed, but the sound was wrong and caught in Crowley's chest like a knife, twisting deep into his heart to leave an angry, weeping wound. He never wanted to hear that laugh again, that bitter despair that held so little mirth. "No? Have I ever done anything I was meant to do? Or anything I was told to? We both know I haven't, so why-"

"Stop. Please, angel, stop." Crowley leaned his forehead against the other's, feeling the soft gasp of sorrow against his lips that the soft, heartfelt motion caused for the other. But it was nothing like the sorrow buried in his chest, overflowing through his lips to beseech, to end the pain that flooded from there. "Please."

"...I'm sorry."

Crowley sighed against him, leaning up to kiss his forehead, his arms circling around him and pulling him in close. He relaxed only when hands in turn circled his waist, pulling him in tight and clinging just as desperately in return. 

He closed his eyes, resting his head atop white hair, letting the silence hold them close. A safe haven, just for a few more moments.

He shouldn't have pretended for so long. 

He had seen him in pain but the fear had kept him from asking the question. He'd been so afraid he'd let this fester far longer than it should have.

His angel didn't deserve this.

"You don't deserve to fall." The muffled sound of dissent was tightly squashed between them. "You don't."

"...I've lost faith."

The words came out, tiny and scared and lost. Oh so lost. Crowley couldn't bear it, not from him. He'd never been able to bear it from Warlock, let alone him. That voice of utter confusion and despair that meant the world wasn't as it should be, always flared up some maternal instinct, some protective spirit that grounded him and tightened his resolve to solve anything- everything- whatever needed solving he could and would solve it. "So?"

"So?" There was a hiccup of a laugh at his chest, a puff of shock at his clear and utter indifference at his words. "I think that's pretty much necessary for an angel, don't you?"

"Not really." Crowley shrugged, pulling away as Aziraphale pushed back, so that they could stare at one another. "Are humans who don't have faith inherently evil?" He smiled as the other's face faltered, twisting slightly as if to regard his words, obviously taken aback by the quick and well thought out response. "You don't have to think about it. You know the truth. If anything, I'm more shocked at you than anything else. You're so good even when you're told not to be." His smile brightened as Aziraphale looked at him, lost and perplexed, but with a glimmer of doubtful hope that Crowley desperately wanted to nurture. "Just think. Every other angel, so ready to give up on humanity and start again, so ready for a war they stopped thinking about what had been planned all along. I think that means you're the most angelic of them all." He tightened his hold, but kept their eyes locked. "You're ineffable, really."

The magic word didn't have the effect he'd desired.

Ineffable.

How many times had he heard Aziraphale say it? So ready to believe, so ready to fight the good fight, even if they were never meant to understand it.

And yet now- now the light that he'd been trying to keep burning flickered out and died at the word, the dark swirling eddies pooling back into Aziraphale's eyes as he pulled away again.

"Don't say that."

"But you are-"

"No." The word was solid, a wall that built itself brick by brick between them as Aziraphale took another step back, further and further from his reach.

He didn't know what to do. What to say. This was all so new and strange. It just wasn't like his angel to doubt, it was uncharted territory that he didn't want to push him into further.

So instead he watched and waited, hoping that by some miracle Aziraphale would come back to him, would explain to him so that he could reach him through the vines he was ensnaring himself with and pull them both out the other side.

Aziraphale finally looked over at him, wincing at whatever he saw staring back at him, an expression that Crowley couldn't even register, himself. He had no idea what was showing on his face because inside there was nothing but the need to know, the need to help.

He couldn't help if he didn't know.

"I just- it's such an awful word." Aziraphale scrubbed at his eyes, ran a hand through his hair to tug as his motions grew more vibrant, more lifelike. It was nauseating to watch, to see him in so much pain, but something in Crowley rejoiced at the shift from the pensive, quiet turmoil that he hadn't been privy to before. This was an explosion, a burst of horrific energy, but it was emotion, filled to the brim and no longer suffocating in it's tension. "Don't you think? Ineffable-" It fell like poison from his lips, like hellfire and brimstone and holy water, a vicious concoction that left him spluttering in disgust, his nose scrunching like they'd found the worst cafe in London to eat at. "The ineffable plan."

"I mean, it worked in our favour when we needed it, didn't it?"

"I'm not saying- of course-" Crowley wanted nothing more than to smooth the conflict from his face, to stop him from yanking quite so hard at his hair but he didn't want him to pull away even further from him by making that first move. "I just... it doesn't make sense!"

"I mean that's what ineffable means, right?" It was meant in jest but the words did nothing to dissuade the righteous fury.

"I don't care! I'm tired of it!" Aziraphale banged his fist against the nearest wooden object, the vase atop the table jumping with the motion and crashing down the other side but he paid it no mind. "We're playing a game without knowing any of the rules! Don't you see how futile that is? How useless we are? How are we meant to do anything when the games outcome has already been decided for us? When we have no idea what to do next? Did we do the right thing? Did we ruin everything? We don't even know! And we never will!" There was a desperate edge that Crowley had never heard before, a plea for him to solve everything, to give him answers they both knew they would never be able to understand. "How can I have faith in- how can I have any faith at all when we'll never truly know what we're supposed to have faith in?"

He wasn't given any chance to answer, any response that sat on his tongue crumbled to ash the second they made contact.

"How can I have faith when I don't think the ends justified the means?"

The silence between them felt less like a wall now, more like a knife hovering above his head. A guillotine balanced precariously, that left him lightheaded and stuck fast, waiting for it to fall. He didn't know why the atmosphere had changed, didn't know what Aziraphale was even talking about but somehow he knew that the answer would cause the scales to tip and for the blade to come crashing down towards him. 

He was sure the answer would be painful, almost sure that he wasn't supposed to know whatever it was that the other had figured out- but then again, he never had been able to resist, the temptation of answers far exceeding the damage they could cause.

"What... means?"

The look of pure sorrow and grief he got in return might as well have cut him down where he stood, far quicker than any words could. 

"You didn't deserve to fall."

Crowley stared at him, unblinking. The room held a haze to it now, a buzz of tampered energy, kept at bay only by the hush of the words and the fizzling static of his blood pumping through his ears. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Aziraphale seemed to take pity on him, pushing forward through the molasses that had kept them apart. There was a warm hand on his cheek again, soft guilt stricken eyes made only bearable by the heat of the fingertips moving in soft reassuring patterns against his skin. "You didn't deserve to fall, my dear. If I don't deserve to fall, you most certainly never did." His expression tightened, anger bubbling up in his gaze, a tempest that would wreak mayhem and destruction, heavenly retribution of the highest order. "And if you fell, all for the sake of this- for her- the ineffable plan-" His hand stopped its soft ministrations, cupping his cheek as he stared at him with the intensity of a storm breaking off the bay and coming in fast. "There is nothing that will stop me from finding God, not heaven or hell that will stop me." 

"Shh." Crowley's hand came up to cover Aziraphale's, fingers light and fleeting as if scared to break the storm himself with anything more forceful. "You can stop now. It's OK."

"How can I have faith in a god that would do that to you, my love?"

The words eviscerated him, hollowed him out and yet at the same time, filled him with all the love and affection that the angel held for him in one fell swoop that left him dizzy and winded.

How could he have ever doubted him?

Crowley let the love wash over him, the wave of regret and remorse and grief that he had long ago accepted coming up to greet him second hand. Aziraphale cared so much that he was going through it now, for him, all the questions, all the anger that he had poured forth through the millennia reflected back at him through unshed tears lining bright blue eyes and shaking hesitant fingers. 

Why? Why, why, why-

Aziraphale had chosen him. Above all else he'd chosen him. 

He didn't deserve him.

"Angel." The word came out as a prayer, awe and reverence pouring forth to soothe and calm. It was ironic really, just how much faith a demon could put into such a holy word and mean it all the same. "It's OK." 

"It's not though." The words were choked, the storm clouds breaking as tears finally fell from heavenly eyes. "All you did was ask why. You wanted to know things, wanted answers, is that really so wrong? You were given the job of tempting the humans with that very same knowledge but not all of them have been damned for it, so why were you? The mortals have been given second chances but you're not allowed one? Even after doing everything god wanted from you? From us? Following the lives that have been laid out for us, we still don't get that?"

"Aziraphale." Crowley laughed, a light sound that didn't fit with any of the seriousness of the situation but he couldn't help it, the joyous sound giving Aziraphale pause, to stare at him in utter disbelief. "Listen to yourself. So righteously angry for me. I still don't hear someone that deserves to fall."

Aziraphale's eyes narrowed, his mouth a thin line. The anger wasn't directed at him but it didn't stop his shudder at the gaze. Hell had no fury, not like this, not cold and calculating and filled with so much virtuous thunder. "Well, if asking questions causes a fall, I think you're mistaken. It's all I've been doing for a while now. Asking why, doubting the ineffable plan- the Almighty. Isn't that what causes a fall? And if it doesn't then why did you-" The words choked out, too painful to muster as he closed his eyes. "How can you say I don't deserve it? I was a soldier, a guardian of a gate of Eden! And the first chance I got I gave away my sword. I lied to the Almighty as if she wouldn't know what I had done! I've deserted my post so many times, I've struggled to work out the differences between good and evil, probably given in to far too many temptations to really be allowed. And yet here I stand." He gestured outwards, his eyes opening to stare desperately at Crowley. "Here I am, still somehow in grace and you- you're not, and I don't understand. Or I understand too much and you never deserved to fall at all. And if that's the case, whether you deserved it or not never really mattered. Because we don't matter at all, other than to fill out some duty- some design already decided for us millennia ago." 

Crowley stared at him, unable to speak against the onslaught. There was so much to think about, so much to comprehend and argue, that he just needed a moment to let it all sink in before he tried to help anymore.

The beat of silence was all it took. Another huff of dissonant laughter that didn't suit his angel at all ringing through the cold air between them.

"Doesn't even have the decency to let us know in the aftermath whether we made the decisions that were wanted of us." 

"It doesn't matter."

"Doesn't-"

Crowley didn't let him finish, pushing back into his personal space, crowding around him until he had no choice but to look, to hold his gaze and let the world fall away around them. "It really doesn't. Not now, not ever." He pressed forward, kissing him to stop the flow of words that still wished to wind around and tie the pair of them in knots, keep up the fraying tangled argument of despair from ever truly leaving. 

Golden eyes met bright blue ones and kept them grounded to the present instead of thoughts of darker times. "Yes, you've done a lot, Angel. A lot that your higher ups would shrink away from, be revolted by, we already know that. I mean, they don't throw you into hellfire for no reason." His eyes sparked amusedly, quirking an eyebrow at him as if it was obvious. "And that's not even mentioning the things they don't know about. The arrangement, the lies throughout the years." 

He watched as Aziraphale deflated, his gaze accepting as Crowley twisted their fingers together, wrapped them up further in the small bubble they had made. "But the fact that you haven't fallen, speaks wonders all of it's own." He pulled their twined hands up to his lips, kissing knuckles to placate as blue eyes hardened to ice. "I don't think you're right though. Maybe I shouldn't have fallen, maybe I should have- ancient history now, love, really. But you-" He smiled against the back of Aziraphale's hand. "You? You don't ask questions out of selfishness, out of curiosity. I just wanted answers, answers I wasn't allowed, but I refused to let it stop me. You? You ask for me." There was clear affection in the tone, pure unadulterated warmth and gratitude. "You can't stand to see others in pain and so you do what is necessary, regardless of the consequences. You gave your sword away? Fine. But it was only to protect the mortals you were meant to guard. What's wrong about that? You lied. Again, to protect them, to let them keep using the gift you had given them. You couldn't let them wander the world alone even if you weren't allowed to follow them. Time and time again, you've pushed the boundaries of good so that others don't have to. I don't see the harm in that, not really. Not when playing by the books meant damning the entire world to the end times. Not when every other angel would rather fight in a predestined war than care about how it would affect the mortals they were sworn to guide and protect."

Crowley dropped his hand, watching with some small satisfaction as it lay poised where he left it, unable to pull away and ever so slightly dazed by his words. He was nothing if not enamoured when he could make the other so speechless. 

He pushed the hand slightly away though, his thoughts and feelings on more pressing matters as he pulled Aziraphale closer still. "You ask for me." He kissed his forehead. "You ask for them." He kissed his nose, chuckling at the cross eyed expression as he came eye level with him, words ghosting over his lips. "You love so much, so brightly." His eyes flicked down to the others lips, warmth spreading through him at the vulnerability of it all. "An angel that can even love a demon, what's more virtuous than that?"

"Crowley..."

The utterance was more of a sigh than a word. A sound of pure endearing affection that he couldn't help but preen at.

"What? I mean it. The other angels couldn't stand to look at us just after the fall. After what we had done to ourselves. But you? You see the good in everyone. Even me. Even when you never should have." He could still feel it now, even all these years later. That act of kindness that needn't have been. An angel on the edge of paradise, giving shelter to a demon as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do. 

It was the first time since the fall that an angel had been kind to him. Had been anything at all, really. 

He supposed it was meant to show how awful they truly were, when even all-loving creatures despised them so. But really, as the years had gone by, he couldn't help but notice how much more it showed about the heavenly beings, not them.

Sweet lips pushing against his brought him back to the present, the feel of feathers still fluttering around him and the first smell of rain filling his senses as he stared into mirrored blue eyes.

"It's not hard to see the good in you, Crowley."

Crowley grinned, raising an eyebrow, yellow eyes sparkling amusedly. "Not hard to see the bad in me either though, is it?" 

Aziraphale shook his head, quiet laughter rumbling from his chest into Crowley's. It soon turned into a sigh though as the angel nuzzled forward, resting his chin on the crook of Crowley's neck. "The demons don't deserve you."

The words were plaintive, soft and sad in a way that hurt Crowley to his core but also lifted him in the strangest way. 

Aziraphale thought he was worth it all, worth loving. He would fall a hundred times if it meant keeping him by his side. 

Now he just had to get through to him that all that mattered now was what they did moving forward.

And so he couldn't help but carry on lightheartedly, as if the words the other had spoken weren't etching themselves into his soul. "And the angels do?"

He wasn't sure he'd ever seen Aziraphale move so fast.

He was surprised he didn't ruin the moment by smacking their heads together in his haste to propel himself backwards and stare beseechingly at him, willing him to believe him.

"No! No, of course not." His eyes hardened for a second, his hands tightening around their hold of Crowley's sleeves but before any more words came out the resolve seemed to drain from him. 

"...But neither do I."

"Angel." Crowley's shoulders sagged, all the tension leaving him.

Only they could ever be so clueless about the other. 

All this time he'd wondered if the other was having second thoughts when in reality...

Crowley cupped his cheeks again, both hands keeping him staring towards him though in response he closed his eyes, as if it was all too painful to stare at him now he had admitted his innermost thoughts.

"The demons don't deserve you." Crowley placed a kiss on his left eyelid, feeling the slight flinch of shock before he relaxed beneath his lips. "Neither do the angels." He moved onto the other, feeling the tension, the soft tremor through soft half clenched fingers, ease, as Aziraphale relaxed into his ministrations. "And neither do I."

Aziraphale's eyes popped open in shock, face contradicting Crowley's soft loving smile in all it's nuances. "You can't believe-"

"Oh, I can. Most definitely." Crowley kept hold of him as he tried to pull away slightly, running warm fingers through soft hair. "You're ineffable, darling, didn't you hear me before?"

Aziraphale winced. "That's not-"

"No, listen... please?" Crowley continued to stroke through his hair, ruffling it up in a way that would usually get some remark from the other but instead he seemed content to stay put and stare at him hopefully, as if he could right the world with only his words. It scared him a little, how much faith Aziraphale put in him, but then again, in this moment he wanted him to listen and believe him, with everything he had. "I don't care what that word meant before. I don't care what plans were made and whether or not we went along with them. We didn't do it because of that, we did what we thought was right. We believed that this world was worth more than what we had always been told. What came before, what happened- none of it matters."

"But it does-"

"OK, maybe it does. Maybe it was decided, before I ever did what I did, that I was going to fall. Maybe it was decided that we would save the world before we had any idea about the world needing saving. But does that make what we did any less? Does that mean Adam never really had a choice?" Crowley stared at him, biting his lip. "I'd like to think that's not the case. I'd like to think that him and his friends took fate into their own hands- and that we did too. And you're right, we might never know the answer so... does it matter? Can't we just live knowing we did everything that we could? That we're here now?"

"I- but it's not right."

Crowley sighed, shrugging. "Maybe. But it doesn't matter to me, not anymore. What matters to me is us, right here, right now." He grinned. "I drove through hellfire to get out of London, was that nothing?"

"Of course not, what you did- I know I asked you to get there, but if I'd known..."

"I'd have still done it." Crowley tried not to laugh at the exasperated look he was getting. "Just like I know if you had the means you'd still go give god a piece of your mind if you knew how to get there."

"Damn right." 

"Careful, angel." Crowley raised an eyebrow, face full of mirth. "And that's not nothing. That's all you. No plan, no rules, just you."

 "I hardly think god would plan on that."

"No." The laughter did fall from his lips then. "That's what makes you ineffable. My angel, ready to take on god herself if it meant righting wrongs." He pushed forward until their lips barely touched. "Absolutely, bloody, ineffable, you are."

"Says the demon who saved humanity." Crowley let his eyes lock with Aziraphale's as he spoke, the words warming up his cheeks. "You could have changed so much once you fell, but you never did. You never stopped trying. All those times when I still believed in god and tried to go ahead with the plans without doubting- you couldn't help but ask the hard questions, not out of spite, only out of kindness."

"Oh, stop it." 

"Oh no, you are not getting away with that." Aziraphale reached up, carding his hand through Crowley's hair and down further still, as if tracing long hair that had since been cut. "I still remember your horror, your disgust at the floods. All the people who had never done anything wrong, thrown into the waters with those that had." He pushed a strand behind his ear, his eyes filled with a deep remorse. "The way you spoke to me that day, I always wondered if you'd tried to speak to god yourself, whether you asked her why... whether you thought you could change the course of her plan. At the time I wasn't sure. I mean, a demon surely wouldn't pray but- sometimes I wondered if you did."

Crowley closed his eyes, the sorrow still there, deep beneath the layers and layers of wall he had built. He remembered screaming himself hoarse at the storm clouds, remembered begging, raging, anything before taking what little matters he could into his own hands. But that was between him and god, even now. So instead all he said was what mattered. "They didn't deserve it."

"No, they didn't. But did any other demon care? Did any angel? No." 

Crowley rolled his eyes. "It wasn't that big a deal." 

"If you say so." Aziraphale let him get away with it, his eyes sad even as he smiled, still playing with Crowley's hair. "But it wasn't the only time was it? Time and again, you've chosen. You chose our side above all others, even when I wasn't ready to."

Crowley pulled at his hand, twisting until it was entwined in his. "Then, are you ready now? Will you be ineffable with me?" Aziraphale had looked ready to object at the first question, affronted that he would even ask but the second pulled him short. "Because I think we can be, angel. We don't need any plans or rules, we just need to be better- our best selves. Let's give the word a new meaning and be ineffable all on our own, no angels or demons or gods required. Just- just you and me."

All at once the room seemed to shrink. It was suddenly too small, everything too close as Crowley waited for an answer. Had he asked for too much? Had he gone too fast? What if Aziraphale pulled away from him, or couldn't accept it? As much as he was grateful that the other wanted to fight heaven and hell for him, he wasn't sure what else to do to prevent him from actually going and doing it. 

He needn't have worried though. Aziraphale rolled the words over in his mind, muttering them back to himself as if tasting them on the tip of his tongue, like a fine wine or a delicacy he wasn't quite ready to rid the flavour of quite yet. He hummed quietly, Crowley relaxing at the soft sound, a familiar staple from the other side of the couch when a particularly good book had caught his intrigue. It was always nice to hear that sound in response to himself as well. 

He kept himself quiet though, waiting for Aziraphale to take the final step unhindered, not over the edge to fall with him but to the landing spot in the middle of the chaos, to walk with him to that bubble of safety where heaven and hell couldn't reach them, where they could be just- them, without any other meaning or destiny necessary. 

"Ineffable, you say..."

Crowley held his breath, watching as Aziraphale looked him up and down, his face filled with affection and reverence in a way Crowley was sure he never deserved, no matter what the other said.

"You know, I think you're right. My love for you is ineffable." 

"Now he gets it." Crowley beamed before the words sunk in, in their entirety. The word 'ineffable' slipping past Aziraphale's lips without causing him a wince of pain was all that he'd really comprehended before the rest of the sentence connected in his brain. There was a flood of heat to his cheeks, a fire spreading to the pit of his stomach and back again. "Wait, what?"

Aziraphale chuckled, pulling him in by his collar to plant another quick kiss against his lips. "Ineffable."

"Ngk." Crowley huffed, closing his eyes as he pressed their foreheads together.

Perhaps it was best not to question that last one too much. Getting him to repeat it might be the death of him.

So instead he let it slide, let the knowledge that Aziraphale agreed, be all that he needed as he slipped his hand through the soft hair at the nape of his neck to keep their foreheads pressed together for just a moment longer.

"Absolutely ineffable."

[aliceslantern]

Beyond this Existence: Atonement, chapter 4

Ansem always had a penchant for strays, so it's not at all surprising when he takes in the orphaned child Ienzo. The boy's presence changes everything, far more than Even is willing to admit. Ienzo's brilliance seems promising, but the arrival of a young Xehanort pushes the apprentices onto a dark, cruel, inhumane path which will affect the future of the World. And even once it's all over with--once Xehanort is dead--they still must pick up the pieces, forgive one another, find a way to atone for their atrocities, and struggle to accept the humanity which has been thrust upon them.

Or: Even's journey from BBS through post-KH3

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

He wakes slowly.

He’s in a bed, a bed not his own, in a strange, blank, barren room. He sits up.

“Ah, friend, you’re awake,” says the voice.

He turns towards the source of it. Xehanort is dressed in all black, but it’s different than the lab coats they’ve worn; it’s got beading, zippers instead of a catch.

He blinks, once. His mind is curiously clear. He reaches up to his jugular to take his pulse, noting first that there is one, then that it’s almost unnervingly slow and steady. “I suppose it worked?” he asks, his voice flat. "We've no hearts?"

“Quite--we are Nobodies." He tilts his head slightly. "We’ve been worried about you. You’re the last one to wake. I thought you may not have made it.”

He stares down at his hands; they look the same, and so does the long blonde hair on his shoulder, freed of its usual restraint. “I see.”

“How do you feel?”

“Very much alert,” he admits. Less physically tired than he can remember.

“Emotionally?”

It’s an odd word to hear out loud. He realizes he is numb, but not a human numbness; moreso an emptiness, but a very bearable one. A comfortable one. “My head is clear,” he says instead. It’s true; unfettered by emotion, he processes this all easily, without stress.

Xehanort smiles, but there’s nothing in it. “Excellent. Seems this experiment was a success. While you were resting, we’ve chosen a sign of brotherhood, new names to usher us into this new life. I’ve chosen one for you--should you want it.”

“And what is that?”

“Vexen,” he says slowly. “The Recusant’s Sigil is said to be good luck. I’ve added it to all our names--anagrammed them.”

“How creative of you.” There’s no sarcasm behind it; nothing at all. “Very well. I suppose that is who I’ll be.” He sits up, bringing his legs over the side of the bed. “Where is Ien--the little one?”

“He goes by Zexion now,” Xehanort says. “He was the first to wake, after myself, of course. The boy seems to have taken to this new life easier than I ever could have guessed. It suits him. He has no more fear, no more sensory overload. He’s purely himself.”

Hearing this, Vexen feels nothing for the boy; no concern. It’s liberating, he realizes. “That is good news indeed. Your name already contains an X. Though I don’t suppose only that will do.”

He shakes his head slowly. “They call me Xemnas.”

There’s much to do, and it’s all so much easier than it used to be.

They’re somewhere else now, a place still taking shape. What starts as a two-story building morphs into something far larger than Radiant Garden’s castle ever was. As soon as he craves a resource, it seems to appear, seemingly out of nowhere; soon he’s able to identify this morphing substance as the same that the lesser Nobodies were made of. They study their new bodies for weeks, months; they discover their immense capabilities for magic. Zexion, in a very short amount of time, becomes a rather skilled mage; necessary, as the Heartless target him mercilessly, despite Lexeaus’s best efforts to protect him. While he and Vexen continue to spend time together, for studies, they’re beginning to drift, but Vexen doesn’t care much. There’s nothing behind the boy’s eyes aside from a cold calculation.

They find that they have weapons, extensions of their wills, each personalized to its user; more exciting yet, they have their own magics, in alignment with their personalities, a sort of expression of the deepest essences of the self. Vexen’s newfound command over ice is infinitely useful in his experiments, though it is disappointing that it is just ice, not water.

It seems every time they come to a momentous discovery--of worlds, of hearts, of matter--Xemnas always dangles something out of reach. For this Organization, Kingdom Hearts will be the key to all knowledge. Vexen works towards this goal with pleasure. In the chaotic, entropic nothingness--something entirely different than darkness or light--his experiments thrive, and after years, the replicas begin to take shape, form. They incubate.

Six years have passed in a blink; for the first time Xemnas speaks on his desire to gather more members. He needs a Keyblade wielder, so he says, to reap hearts. So they all, in their own ways, go searching across the worlds. And they do find someone, a humanoid Nobody, a seventeen-year-old boy they call Demyx. But the disappointments come hard and fast with this one. Initially, Vexen is hopeful; the boy’s power over water seems to be something nearly prodigal. But he is not very academically bright. He’s lazy, he would rather fool around with his weapon, an instrument called a sitar. They all can barely tolerate him, though inexplicably, Xigbar strikes up a rapport with the boy. Very well. If someone of high rank can keep him in line, all the better.

Because they have ranked themselves. Of course, Xemnas is the leader; as the youngest, it’s only natural for Zexion to be the sixth of the six original apprentices; Saïx, Axel, and Demyx follow when the latter arrives; but internally there’s some squabbling over the rest of the numbers. Vexen is beyond disappointed with his own designation of only fourth, but no matter, he works alone the majority of the time anyway.

In quick succession, they’re joined by three more--Luxord, Marluxia, Larxene. Not one is a Keyblade wielder, and aside from the passing intrigue of studying the first humanoid Nobody that is a biological woman, they are nothing but a thorn in Vexen’s side. Xemnas’s frustration is obvious, and Vexen feels mostly the same.

All of a sudden Zexion is no longer a little boy, but a young man. He had, more or less, what seemed to be a normal puberty. He never expresses interest in sex or sexuality, unlike some of the other members; but then again, Zexion was never a people person, and while Vexen knows that the scientist in him should want to investigate this potential quirk of Nobody biology, the part of him that once raised Ienzo is repulsed at questioning the young man farther about these matters.

One of these days, when Zexion’s about fifteen, he arrives in Vexen’s lab. “Six,” he says. “It’s a pleasure to see you. Do you require assistance?”

Zexion smiles politely. “I hope to have a word, if that’s alright. I do hope I’m not interrupting anything.” It’s easy now for him to speak, to compose himself; as Xemnas said, purely himself. If anything, the boy is too talkative.

“I can spare a few moments.”

“Very well. Then I’ll be brief. I’m aware our tutoring sessions take up a good deal of our time, time both of us could use more efficiently. I feel I’m far enough in my education to pursue it on my own. Though I must thank you for your years of working with me.” He bows a little. The sight of this old custom unnerves Vexen.

He says it so quickly, so simply. For some reason, Vexen is surprised--though shouldn’t he have seen this coming?

(And is he crazy, or is he feeling hurt? No--mustn’t. Nobodies cannot feel, though the neophytes love to pretend, especially Demyx. The miscreant must be rubbing off on him more than he thought. He curses the fact that they are both part of the reconnaissance team.)

Vexen smiles. “It was my pleasure. You know you’re very intelligent. I have the utmost faith in you. My door is always open for you, Zexion, should you have questions.”

“Thank you, Vexen. Good day.”

The years pass--they cannot find their Keyblade wielder, no matter how hard they try. The others are frustrated too, especially the neophytes, as they’re sent on the most search missions. At least there is some progress--Heartless made, worlds brought under control of darkness, his replicas becoming more stable yet. Vexen hopes he may be able to get one to wield a Keyblade.

Zexion turns eighteen. Vexen’s initial prediction was right; the young man is relatively small, slight, and probably always will be. While his face still is a bit soft, he’ll lose the babyishness in time. As the first person to truly come of age as a Nobody, he allows Vexen to prod him, somewhat indulgently. “I suppose it is interesting, though it would be more interesting if I knew the difference,” he admits, in a moment of unusual candor.

Vexen looks up at him on the table. He gently pulls free the needle that was taking his blood, and heals the tiny wound. Magic has made his doctoring less barbaric, simpler. “Would you rather have been human?” he asks.

He thinks about it. “I’ve been a Nobody ten years--longer than I was ever a human.”

“Yet, not a direct answer to my question.”

He rolls down the sleeve of his cloak. “I don’t believe so,” he says. “What I remember from that time is mostly negative--the panic attacks, the constant inundation of stimuli interpreted as pain, the nightmares, the untreated PTSD. But now… now I am stable, and in control of myself. I do not feel I’ve missed anything--though the neophytes insist the opposite.” He rolls his eyes. “As if I would ever find any of those shenanigans of interest.”

Vexen nods. “As long as you are fulfilled.”

“I am.” He pauses, smiles a bit. “I’m not the one who told you this, but the superior might soon have a mission for us. One elsewhere.”

His interest is piqued; but at the same time, he feels another wave of frustration that number six is more privy to this information than he. “Elsewhere?”

Zexion shakes his head. “That’s all he said. Though who knows--he’s become more and more enigmatic over the years. It is… trying.”

Vexen chuckles. “Well, I doubt I’ll find anything different about these samples, but should there be anything of note, I’ll contact you.”

“Keep it for posterity,” he says, with a wave of his hand. “Who knows, I could be the first of many, to live this way.”

“Child, you have a strange sense of humor.”

---

Two things happen in quick succession--they find their Keyblade wielder, and Castle Oblivion is established as a second base. Roxas is an amnesiac, utterly zombified, more than just Nobody numbness. But considering the stories they’ve heard of Sora from Xemnas, that they were able to capture his Nobody is a feat in and of itself.

He’s forced to release his first successful replica to Xemnas. It really is a puppet--it will walk, talk, perform bodily functions--but it has no sense of self, not yet. He knows it’s too soon to let No. i into the field--it needs more extensive testing. Xemnas insists. They need insurance in case something were to happen to Roxas, mostly because Sora’s allies are searching for him. Not when they are so close to finally making progress on Kingdom Hearts. With it, knowledge and, perhaps for those interested, humanity again.

Vexen isn’t sure of his own opinion on the matter. To be a Nobody is a sort of freedom; he can research, experiment without guilt, without the need for social interaction. But as Nobodies they do not technically exist, literally speaking; doesn’t that in itself negate everything that’s been discovered?

So with what is almost anxiety, No. i is christened Xion, and welcomed into their ranks. But Vexen is not allowed to stay and observe it; he, and another replica, are needed in Castle Oblivion. He, Zexion, and Lexeaus are given dominion over the lower floors; Larxene, Axel, and Marluxia the upper. Most galling yet, Marluxia, number eleven for god’s sake, is made their tentative leader. While Marluxia has proven himself time and again in the field and at the table, why does this man deserve such a rank?

But Zexion and Lexeaus do not want to hear him complain about it. “Everyone’s work is important here,” Zexion says softly, huddled over his lexicon, poetically called “Book of Retribution”--Vexen does not pretend to understand that boy’s mind. “Yours especially. Focus on the task at hand.”

It’s a big task for the boy (the man, Vexen reminds himself, he’s nineteen); they would be using Zexion’s extensive illusions on Sora, as Naminé leaches his memories. They cannot afford a heart that special to remain out in the wide world; not when he actually has the power to put an end to them. Vexen knows Zexion’s powerful, knows of his stamina; but maintaining so many complex illusions for so long was a lot to ask of him. Castle Oblivion seems to like the boy's magic, to hold its shape. Even so. But they discover more is afoot; namely, that the neophytes have insane ideas to overthrow Xemnas, using Sora. Quickly, Zexion, Lexeaus, and Vexen devise a plan. While Sora has arrived, Riku soon follows, lured there by a carefully placed clue in the realm of darkness. They’d use Riku--or some semblance of him--to stop Marluxia from using the boy. It takes a bit of cleverness. They have to make Marluxia think they’re on his side, so the replica again changes hands.

But something goes wrong. The replica isn’t acting under their control, it’s developed its own will (what did they expect, forcing him into this so quickly). Marluxia, oh so casually, says that, unless Vexen can pacify the boy himself, he’ll report him and his failure, which can only go one way. Vexen's long had a feeling that he'd be eliminated once he outgrew his usefulness.

Very well.

So he fights the boy, and it’s much more difficult than he would have thought. The boy truly is something prodigal, something nearly godlike. He’s defeated, but is still alive. He already knows what’s coming, and something gives way. He tells the boy how to get his memories back, how to discover Roxas, giving him the key to a Twilight Town. When they meet again, the boy’s almost worked it out, what they are.

And then, to be crass, it hits the shit.

But he doesn’t expect Axel to be the one to execute him.

[unchained-lightner]

     So, I felt like rambling about some random, assorted Kris headcanons because... Well, why not? These apply more to the playerless AU, but a few carry over to other verses, too. This is gonna get long, so... Check under the cut for shenanigans. Also, spoiler warning and all that.

     - Kris really, really doesn’t like being picked up or carried. They’ll tolerate it, and rarely resist efforts to lift them up, but they strongly prefer having both feet firmly placed on the ground. They’re a bit iffy on physical contact in general, actually; Kris is mostly neutral to it, but it’s pretty rare they’ll initiate that contact on their own. If this teen gives you a hug, cherish it because that means a lot coming from them.

     - While Kris is good at making scary expressions and seeming really threatening, they’re actually pretty harmless overall. This behavior can be best compared to a scared kitten puffing up and hissing; unless you really push them, Kris isn’t actually going to do anything. If they don’t like you, they’ll find a much more subtle way of sabotaging your life, or just try avoiding you altogether.

     - Kris is pretty much half and half when it comes to fight or flight; if they’re the one in danger, they’d rather just avoid the conflict and get away. However, if someone else is in danger, Kris will change their tune very quickly. While their combat abilities are focused much more on defense and buffs, Kris is still pretty scrappy in a pinch. That said, their attacks are mediocre at best, especially since Kris doesn’t really want to hurt anybody. Likewise, they’ll also hold back if facing an opponent that's injured; Kris does not like killing, and will attempt to prevent it through any means necessary.

     - This kid eats just about anything. The only ‘foods’ they’d be squeamish about are raw meats, really. That said, while they might have a macabre sense of humor, they actually don’t like eating things that are bloody, or look bloody, hence why they don’t care for the heart donut with its red jelly filling. Kris will be more than happy to pretend to, though, if they think it’ll freak someone out.

     - That said, Kris has an extreme weakness for sweets, especially chocolate. If there is chocolate in the house, you better keep it hidden or they’ll perform a very special magic trick; replacing all chocolate with empty wrappers. Either way, cover something with chocolate and this kid will eat it. Needless to say you should never, ever take them somewhere with a chocolate fountain, because Kris will put absolutely everything in it and they cannot be stopped.

     - Also, Kris has no idea what humans are supposed to be like. They cannot recall meeting another human, since they were put up for adoption at a very young age. Kris lived their entire life in Hometown, which has no other human residents. As a result, they have very mixed feelings concerning their own kind; there’s definitely some bitterness and abandonment issues to unpack, but at the same time, Kris is also very curious too. Yet, due in part to the scary stories they’ve been bombarded with from a young age, and their own rather untrustworthy nature, Kris can’t help but wonder if they’re really missing out on anything.

     - Kris can talk if they want to, they just usually don’t. It’s not even that they’re bad at speaking, they just don’t really like to. As a result, when they do speak, they keep it short and sweet so-to-speak. And if they don’t want to answer you... They just won’t. Instead, you’ll get a very indignant glare, maybe a huff or two. Kris actually prefers using music to connect with others; playing piano comes much more naturally to them, and they’re pretty dang good at it, too. It’s the one talent Kris is really proud of. They occasionally compose as well, though their writing is really messy so it can be hard for other people to decipher.

     - The main reason Kris doesn’t like going to school was the pretty much constant bullying. Being the only human in an all-monsters town, they were chosen as the ‘freak’ at a very young age. Susie didn’t just start picking on them; that’s actually been going on for years. Kris is usually just wily and quick enough to sneak away without her catching them alone. However, Kris refuses to tell anyone else about it; the other kids have a fairly good guess at what’s happening, but the adults don’t really know.

     - Part of Kris and Asriel’s strong bond was that Asriel was one of the few who never treated Kris as some sort of weirdo, and even helped protect them from the bullies. As a result, Kris always felt much safer and more comfortable around them, knowing that at least one other kid accepted them for who they were. Asriel was also the only one who Kris really opened up to, and he knows the kid better than anyone else.

     - Under their bangs, Kris’s eye color can display their current amount of Determination; when the trait is active-- which in turn makes their soul appear red-- their eyes will gleam a deep scarlet color reminiscent of garnets. However, when their trait fades, their eye color fades slightly with it, becoming somewhat washed out and dull. As a result, their eyes will appear more like a pale reddish-brown. But, since their eyes are usually hidden, most people wouldn’t even notice the difference. Also note that when they activate a Determination power, it may even cause their eyes to visibly glow for a moment. This is most common if they’re trying to reset, save, or load.

     - When in a different timeline, Kris may not be able to save over an existing save if their Determination is weaker, but they can still view the information. As a result, they can generally figure out who is currently in control, and how long they’ve been in that position. Kris has no interest in hijacking anyone’s timeline though; if anything, they’ll just be wary of whoever is responsible, knowing there’s someone else out there that can reset at will. That said, Kris can remember resets due to their own relatively high Determination, so even as their opponent learns... They do, too.

     - Kris’s ability to ‘check’ other people can be both a blessing and a curse. They don’t really understand the ‘stats,’ so most of the time it’s more of a vague impression they get from another person, mainly concerning how powerful they are. Moreover, they occasionally check on reflex, without even realizing they’re doing it. Most of the time this is harmless, but a high LV stat will make them intensely uncomfortable; as a result, they’ll be quite wary of those who’ve killed before, regardless of the reason for it. That said, since Kris doesn’t actually know what LV is or how it raises, it’s still fully possible to earn their trust in spite of it.

     - Kris isn’t really an outgoing person, so they’re unlikely to reach out to new people without reason. That said, they can be quite friendly and playful towards those who do succeed in earning their trust and friendship. While Kris actually really hates fighting, they did tend to play a bit rough when they were little. They frequently play-wrestled with Asriel in particular, but over the years Kris has mellowed out quite a bit. Now, this playful streak only really comes out once in a blue moon, and only for people they’re very close with. Also, Kris is actually surprisingly ticklish; this is the easiest way to subdue them if they’re being a little terror.

[aparecium-hq]

Welcome to Aparecium, Cat! You have been accepted for Lily Potter. We’ve been so happy to have your Matilda, and it’s clear you put just as much love and thought into your application for Lily. I can’t wait to see your unique take on her hit the dash. Check out the new member checklist, and jump right in.

Character Basics

Birthday (Age): February 1st 2008 (19)

Gender (Pronouns): She/Her

Sexuality: Pansexual

Blood Status: Halfblood

Hogwarts House/School: Hufflepuff

Occupation: Agony aunt columnist/seer for the quibbler

Faceclaim: Zendaya Coleman

Biography: Lily grew up the youngest child of Harry and Ginny, loved and cared for by her large family who did everything they could to protect her. She was spoiled rotten. As one of the youngest of the famous Weasley-Potter clan she quickly realised her reputation (or rather her family’s reputation) preceded her. People she had never met knew who she was, the daughter of the famous Harry Potter but no one ever seemed to see her. She was just another Potter. Even at family gatherings with so many cousins - almost all of them older than her - she found herself fighting to be heard, desperate for attention.

When it was Lily’s turn to attend Hogwarts she decided she wanted to stand out from the rest of her family. She went out of her way to make new friends so that people would know her, instead of just her name. Although Lily was spoiled, bossy, and used to scrabbling for the centre of attention she had a way of making friends, or at least superficial friends, easily. The young witch did everything she could think of to get ahead and make people notice her.

She went through Hogwarts largely without any drama. She had a close group of friends and a happy life, where the most she had to worry about was relationship troubles and homework. She was always the kind of girl to fall fast and hard in love, which left her with many teenage heart breaks that she took deadly serious at the time. Her bubble was one where she was the centre of the universe and Lily rarely had time to think about what was happening outside the walls of Hogwarts.

She wasn’t the best student but found herself drawn to divination, which she excelled at, her other subjects falling to the side, scraping passes on them where she could. It wasn’t until her final N.E.W.T year she even started thinking about what she might want to do. Planning her future had never been something that Lily was very good at - even if she claimed she could see it.

At school Lily was popular, happy and she usually got her way. She was teased from time to time about her love of divination but largely thought that the other students were just jealous of her abilities to ‘predict the future’. Entering the ‘real world’ was a big shock for Lily, who had to very quickly learn that most wix wouldn’t put up with her immature behavior.

Lily quickly became a press favourite. She had a messy love life and was not afraid of causing a scene or letting people know how she felt, especially when she’d been drinking and being straight out of Hogwarts she liked to party a lot. Along with her drunken shenanigans Lily also liked to make predictions some of which would be splashed across papers when they were proven wrong. She got something of a reputation for being a little odd. She is well aware that her activities were reflecting poorly on her family but once the press had an idea of her they ran with the same story, no matter how she behaved. It seemed useless to try to change anyone’s mind.

After graduation Lily’s prospects in a traditional job seemed limited. She hadn’t performed well enough at school to be considered for any ministry job and she didn’t want to work in a stuffy office anyway. Lily would have been perfectly happy to just keep living at home and pursue her interest in divination but her parents wanted more from her. They wanted her to succeed and be happy. It didn’t take much for Ginny to pull a few strings and get Lily a job writing for the Quibbler.

The Quibbler was ahead of its time in many ways, the first wizarding newspaper to publish content online, they were quick to adapt to technology. Lily loved this. While she was highly skeptical of integration she knew the wizarding world could use muggle technology to their advantage. She had been researching muggle divination techniques for a long time and had even integrated some into her own practice. It gave her something of a career boost. She was doing something new and different.

The articles she wrote for the Quibbler at first were generic agony aunt content. She’d respond to questions posed by readers, give them relationship or career advice. It was a fluff piece at the end of the paper. As she developed as a writer though she found her own voice and used her divination skills to form advice for those who wrote in. It became a highlight of the paper’s online articles, often pushed to the front page of the entertainment section of the website. The name Potter certainly helped with that.

Lily had found her calling. The only thing she didn’t like about the Quibbler was their political sections. Even before she’d joined they were suggesting magical and muggle integration, but in the years since the call had only gotten stronger. She dared not speak her mind on the issue in her own articles but she didn’t like the direction the paper was going and she was concerned that the readers were going to be influenced towards integration. While she loves her job at the Quibbler she’s started to wonder whether it’s time to move on to somewhere she can speak her mind, even knowing the rifts it might cause in her family.

Character Questionnaire

How does your character feel about their family? A large family suits Lily well. She’s social and enjoys being around a lot of people, especially those who love and spoil her. Being one of the youngest means she can get away with quite a lot and when she acts up or makes a fool of herself the most she gets is a roll of the eyes from one of her aunts or uncles. She liked spending time with her older cousins as a kid, but hated being batted away and treated like the annoying little sister - when that happened it usually led to a tantrum or Lily doing her best to steal the spotlight in whatever way she could. She has a lot of people to look up to in her family - her aunts and uncles are all famous and impressive witches/wizards in their own right. It’s a little intimidating sometimes, especially when she knows many of them look down on her chosen career in divination. There can be some friction, especially with her Aunt Hermione which isn’t helped by Lily’s secret opposition to integration. Lily and her mum Ginny have a special bond. They’re two very different witches but Ginny has always accepted Lily as she was and encourages her daughter to find her own path in life. She wants Lily to stay as a happy free-spirited child and Lily embraces that, not knowing how fast Ginny had to grow up when she was her age.

How would a stranger who has just met your character describe them? Lily has a reputation that precedes her and with the press following her every move, all her embarrassing moments as a young adult have been put on show - including the time she got too drunk and flashed the cameras. She is largely thought of as some silly little girl who thinks the world revolves around her and isn’t in touch with everyone else’s reality. People who first meet her often come away with this impression, even if they haven’t kept up with what’s said about her online.  

What magical skill or talent is your character most proud of? Lily is proud of her skill in reading tarot cards. It wasn’t taught on the Hogwarts’ divination curriculum, which favoured traditional wixen ways of predicting the future, but Lily learnt about it online. She read about muggles using the cards to predict the future and believed their results to be true and so she started practicing. While it took her a long time to learn it by herself it quickly surpassed tea leaf reading as her favourite method of divination, and is now her main selling point as a seer. It’s not something most seers in the wizarding world use and Lily is keen to keep it as her shtick.

Para Sample

It was Lily’s first day at the quibbler. She hated feeling uneasy and had planned to walk into the office wearing her lucky dress, the one that made her feel powerful and confident - the same one she’d worn the new years eve she’d made out with the singer of a famous muggle band her friends loved. She’d put a jacket over it, but Ginny had still gently told her it probably wasn’t work appropriate. She’d ended up borrowing an outfit from her mum but it had put her whole morning in a spin. She didn’t feel comfortable in the trousers, which were slightly too short for her, and she spent the entire morning conversation with her new boss worried that everyone would notice how they rode up. Lily had barely been listening to what he was telling her and didn’t realise that they’d arrived at her desk until he told her he’d leave her to set up the computer sitting at it.

She didn’t think much of it. Lily had been expecting a newspaper to have nicer offices than this. She didn’t even have her own office, she was sharing a small room with a group of other writers who were all eagerly typing away at their computers, occasionally throwing glances her way. Taking a seat Lily looked around and wondered who had decided it would be a good idea to carpet the room in tiles, or paint the walls that strange shade of green. She ignored the looks from her new co-workers, entirely used to it and settled down at her desk opening the computer and setting up a new account.

It didn’t take long and without any direct further instructions Lily leaned back on her chair scrolling her phone, assuming she’d be told what to do when she needed to do it. She got more strange looks from the other inhabitants of the office. They all seemed to be working hard, their loud typing noises irritating her.

When her boss finally returned to see her scrolling her phone he looked bemused.

“You didn’t come to my office when you’d finished?”

“Huh?”

Lily had not heard that instruction. He sighed.

“I’ll email you your first task, let me know if you have any problems with it.”

By the end of the day Lily had successfully written one reader response. There had been much back and forth correcting grammar errors and fixing formatting issues and suggesting that Lily’s advice didn’t contain the phrase ‘dump his ass!’ She was happy with her work and pleased the day had gone so well for her considering she hadn’t been wearing her lucky dress.

As the rest of the writers filed out of the office she heard them mentioning their usual after-work drinks. That was something she could get onboard with.

“Are we going out for drinks? Fab, I’ll let my parents know I’ll be back late. We can get smashed and celebrate my first day!”

Lily didn’t notice the looks of resentment the following day when they all arrived at their desks with a hangover and she was happily typing away on her next project.

[healthnotion]

How to Handle a Promotion

You’ve been in your job at work for a few years, and for almost as long you’ve been angling for a promotion to a higher position. One day the desired slot opens up, and your boss calls you into his office to let you know you’ve got the job. You’re excited, of course. As you should be! But you also feel a bit of trepidation. Even though you’ve thought a lot about getting this promotion, you haven’t really thought much about the reality of what your new position will entail. How will you handle it, particularly being put over folks who used to be your peers? You’ll be managing the folks you used to complain with; you might now be “the man” that folks want to complain about.

Many promotions mean moving up a corporate ladder and managing people you previously worked with on the same level. That’s just how business hierarchies work. Even if you were already a manager, maybe you moved up a rung and are now leading other managers. No matter the scenario, there’s often some awkwardness and politics to navigate.

(Granted, that’s not all promotions. Sometimes you just get a new title, a salary boost, and some new responsibilities, without moving into a new management role. In those cases, your transition is probably a little more straightforward.)

If you’re in a new position where you’re being asked to oversee your former peers and/or current friends, here are a few tips on how to handle that transition smoothly and successfully:

Celebrate! (But Quietly)

You’ve earned a promotion! Huzzah! You should rightly celebrate. Get yourself a new suit or briefcase, go out to a fancy restaurant with your family and/or friends, and take some time to appreciate that your hard work paid off.

But, don’t do those things in front of your coworkers (possibly now your subordinates). Take a pass on the victory lap around the office and the shouts of “Yippee! Suck it, losers!” Wear your new suit to work, of course, but don’t brag about it as a prize to yourself for getting promoted. Don’t mention to your office mates that you had the most expensive, best tasting steak in the world last night. Play it cool, man. Rubbing it in their face, especially if it’s someone you don’t really like, might be exactly what you want to do, but won’t get you started on the right foot in your new position.

Acknowledge the Change

Just because you won’t celebrate your promotion in the face of your coworkers doesn’t mean it has to go totally unacknowledged. It’s not a bad idea to briefly meet face-to-face with the folks you now manage and have a conversation about what the relationship might look like moving forward. You might say something like:

“Of course things are a little different now, but, as your manager, I want nothing more than for you to succeed. Don’t hesitate to come to me with any issues you might have; my goal is to provide you with training, skills, oversight, and an environment that promotes your own success here. Here’s my vision for our team and how we’ll operate . . . Do you have questions or concerns right off the bat? Are there any changes you’d like to see made in how things are run?”

Operate With a Clean Slate

If you’re now managing some of the people with whom you were once equal peers, it might be hard to forget some of the shenanigans they participated in: the company-sponsored networking event where Bill had a few too many drinks; the time Rob called in sick, but you know he was really just at home watching March Madness (and texting you the whole time).

Now that you’re managing these people, what do you do? The best tactic is to wipe the slate clean of any past misdeeds. That doesn’t mean looking the other way in the face of future poor etiquette or the breaking of company rules, but it does mean you should forgive and forget things that might have happened before you entered your new role.

You Have More Responsibility Now; Act Like It

While a promotion sure enough means a salary boost and sometimes a new office that’s all yours, it also means greater responsibility. You might now have access to more sensitive information, or even just greater access to higher level folks in the company. You’re probably being watched a bit more by both your superiors (not micromanaged necessarily, but in a “can he handle this?” sort of way) and those you’re now in charge of.

If you used to regularly be 5-10 minutes late, make it a habit to be 5-10 minutes early instead. If you used to commiserate with your peers about lame company policies or engage in gossip about your coworkers, make it a point to stay away from those conversations. In a higher level position, your example means a whole lot more. If you’re occasionally showing up late or gossiping, people will take that to mean that it’s okay to do those things.

Also be sure you aren’t sharing privileged information with those who aren’t privy to it. Maybe you now know the CEO’s salary, or you found out some weird quirk of his that would make your buddies laugh — hold it in. Take the responsibility of the new position seriously.

Don’t Be Hurt If You’re Treated Differently . . .  

It’s inevitable that your relationship will change with your former work pals when you’ve been promoted, especially if you’re now directly managing them. Don’t be surprised if you aren’t invited to happy hour, or if breakroom conversation lulls when you show up. There’s a power dynamic in place that just can’t be ignored; your old pals don’t want to put themselves in any sort of compromising position. It’s a hard truth, but something you’ll just have to accept. You don’t want to be the supervisor who desperately wants back in with his old crew.

Your interactions might be a little more stilted, but if you work at making everyone feel comfortable and like they’re heard, you can maintain the good relationships you had before, albeit with slightly different dynamics.

. . . In Fact, You Should Establish Some Boundaries

Even if your coworkers are okay with you still joining them at the water cooler or going out to eat together for lunch, it might be a good idea to intentionally remove yourself — at least a little bit — from those scenarios. If you’re now the boss, maintaining a relationship that’s purely friendly won’t lend you the authority to deal with problems when they come up, be they minor things (like subordinates taking slightly long lunch breaks) or serious (like needing to fire them). Your leadership in general can come in to question if your relationship doesn’t change in the least bit.

If you disengage from casual chit-chat, and say yes to fewer lunch invitations, you’ll start to cultivate that air of authority that you may need in your new position. It’s not necessarily fun, but again, just comes with the territory of having more responsibility. Embrace the change, and take it as a chance to expand your social life outside the office. Workplace friendships are great at times (in fact you need a work pal!), but don’t tend to be the longest-lasting or most meaningful.

Now, if you’ve been promoted to a different division or office and you aren’t directly overseeing the people you once worked with, there’s nothing wrong with maintaining those relationships as you did before.

Make Changes Slowly

If you’ve been promoted, it might be because you’ve had some great ideas that have been implemented, and you have even more in this new position about how things should operate. Be careful about changing things too quickly though. Even if some systems and processes are outdated, you don’t want to change up how things have been going for years and years until you’ve been in your new position for a little while. For the new guy on the job to make wholesale fixes will seem foolhardy to others — like you don’t have enough experience to fully appreciate what’s going on. And really, that’s true. Problems will often look different from the inside than they did from the outside; you’ll find out some nuances and complexities you formerly weren’t privy to.

So take some time to get the lay of the land and get used to your new position before you go about making big, sweeping changes. When you do, it’ll seem more measured rather than an impulsive need to change things for the sake of changing things.

You don’t want to step on any toes or damage any relationships before you even get started.

Learn What You Have Yet to Learn

Chances are good that as you move into a new role, you’ll realize you have a lot to learn. You were likely in your old position for at least a couple years, and in that time, you came to know your daily processes and the ins and outs of your job like the back of your hand. You just intuitively get into a real groove after a period of time, and you’ve likely forgotten how much you had to learn and how rough the going was at the very start.

Now in a new role, even within the same company, you’re sort of starting from scratch again. You have new systems to learn, new supervisors to get in sync with, and most likely, new skills and managerial techniques to hone. 

Especially if you’re brand new to managing people, you’ll need to learn how your team works best and what motivates them, both individually and as a cohesive unit. You’ll also need to bone up on conflict resolution, negotiation, delegation, etc. This is another reason you don’t want to make sweeping changes right off the bat; you may have a lot to learn, especially about how your team operates, and you don’t want to jump the gun before you have enough facts or skills under your belt.

Act Like You Belong

When you’re promoted, even if you’ve worked hard at getting there, it can feel like you don’t quite belong — like you’re faking it or pulling one over on your higher-ups. The reality, though, is that you did work hard, and you were chosen for a promotion for a reason. Don’t be timid or demure about the new role; act like you belong there. Fake it until you make it, and assume the mask of command.

Consider even changing your style to reflect the new position. Maybe in your old role you wore the classic office uniform of khakis and a polo or long-sleeve button-up shirt. Now that you’re moving up the ladder, consider subtly upping your wardrobe a level as well, even and especially if you don’t have to. Add a blazer or two to the mix, level up your shoes and other accessories, and heck, even wear a suit now and then (as long as a suit is just one notch or so above what everyone else is wearing; you don’t want to rock one when the workplace uniform is jeans and a polo; in that case, know how to rock a sports jacket with jeans).

Your new duds will not only function as a signal of authority to others, but to yourself as well, helping you psychologically step into your new role and key into a more confident mindset.

Mentor Your Subordinates

Support the people under you as much as possible and help them get better at their jobs. Take the time to teach; don’t just tell them what to do, but show them how to do it, and explain why they do it. Offer praise, both privately and publicly. Listen to their ideas, and if they’re good, pass them on to your own supervisor.

Such mentorship benefits your subordinates, but it benefits you too; the higher-ups won’t likely give you another promotion until they feel confident someone in your department is ready to take your place. As you help those under you move up, you help yourself move up too!

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