#he was the nicest sixteen year old in the world

[chucktaylorupset]

I think there's something to be said for fanfiction that loves canon in a way that’s rude. Like thank you for this wonderful thematic tragedy made out of this character’s entire arc ending in death, it was emotionally and intellectually moving, but also fuck you fuck you fuck you they live, this time and every time they live, they never died, their flaws are not their undoing, actually they have no flaws, actually they save everyone, actually who cares about a story, any story, where this one dies, actually i cared about that story so much i made a new one, actually i cared so much i unmade the old one, you gave me morals and i left them for the mortal, but they’re mine now and i will never let them die, actually thank you, actually fuck you, strongly worded letter to follow

A kiss for canon and spit in its face all at once, it’s great

[pickleking8]

11 - Adoption Isn't All It's Cracked Up To Be - Chapter Eleven

Words: 945

Ao3 Link

Previous - Masterpost

Tw: death of a minor due to beating/fire/explosion, kidnapping, lmk if I missed anything

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When Jason Todd was six years old, he believed in magic, and he thought that his father was the most magical of all. His dad, who worked so hard, and always came home late, with a resigned and drawn face, who still made sure to hug him, play with him, tuck him in and tell him a story before bed. Jason loved hearing the soft voice of his father spinning fantastic tales as he slowly slipped into sleep. He had a lot of magic, then. 

When Jason Todd was seven years old, his father went to prison, blamed for a petty crime he didn’t commit, and there was no more soft click of the door as his father came home, and no more stories, and no more soft voice lulling him to sleep. A little magic died, then. 

When Jason Todd was nine and a half (and it’s important never to forget the “and a half”, or he’ll be upset with you), when the house had gotten bare and his mother had gotten quiet, his father was killed in Arkham, in a brawl. Not the nicest way to go, as the drawling man on the phone had said, bored and indifferent. Then, a lot of magic died, to be replaced by sadness and anger. 

When Jason Todd was eleven, his mom died too, taking with her hugs and movie nights and warm tea and homework help, always ever so patient in explaining exponents for the tenth time, and many more numbers of things, including their apartment. She had gotten quieter, and sadder, after his father’s death, and didn’t really get better, but she still made time for him, and loved him the same, and made sure that he knew that. By then, Jason was nearly out of magic, and nearly full of other things, like rage and grief and sorrow and desolation.

When Jason Todd was twelve, after a year of running, from everyone and everything, he stole Batman’s tires and hit him with a tire iron. Right in the stomach, and Batman would deny until the day he died that he yelped. Soon, Gotham met Robin, and stood in admiration at his gaiety and delight with the world. Jason gained magic, then, and gained more and more as time went on and he healed, anger and sadness not gone, but not weighing him down. Jason fell into stories once again, into the magic that they wove, into helping others, into going to school. Jason was happy, and Jason was loved. 

When Jason Todd was fifteen, he died, and it was horrific. He was given hope for his mother, and it was ripped away. He was beaten, pain blossoming across his skin, before an explosion roared and a blast of hot air washed over his already flushed face. He died, wishing, hoping for his dad to come and save him, for his magic to be real, hoping against everything that his end would not be here, on a gritty concrete floor in a dimly lit warehouse. He died, feeling flames lap against his clothes, his fingers, his cheeks, protected not by the tears that ran down them in torrents, leaking from under a mask he believed would save him. He died, accompanied by the sound of sickly sweet, cackling laughter ringing in his ears, and, ever so faintly, so quiet he couldn’t be sure it was actually there, a quiet click of the final door closing, and soft voice telling him stories, lulling him into sleep. 

When Jason Todd had been dead a year and a half (sixteen, he would have been sixteen, a junior, exploring and loving everything in the way that teenagers do), he used up the last splinter of magic, born from hope, and clawed, screaming, choking, and crying, out of his grave, dark clay coating him and his favorite sweater, the bright baby blue smeared with an ugly, dried-blood red. When Jason Todd burst from the crumbling dirt, he was met with a cool, crisp night, fresh air (not rot, it didn’t smell like rot, he didn’t want to smell anything rotting ever again), and a woman, clad in flowing, dark clothing and smiling just like his mother used to. She said her name was Talia, and she helped him up, leading him away with a smile sweet as medicine. 

When Jason Todd had been dead three years (he would have been eighteen, gone to college, studied the books he always loved, learned as he always loved), he came back to Gotham angry and hurting, drowning in betrayal, unable to break the ice holding him down and slowly sinking into frigid depths. He wanted to be avenged (he wanted to be saved), not just for his death but for his childhood, for every moment that was ripped away from him. And if his dad Bruce wouldn’t do it, then he would. It was easy, simple as that (why didn’t he save me?). When Jason Todd was three years and eleven days dead, he watched through the beady red eyes of the manor cameras as his family the Bats snatched a desperate, beaten child, wrenching his hands away from a scraping metal fence, and carried him back into the manor, eyes wide and tears running down a crumbling facade (just like Jason’s had), flinching away from the green-tinted light like it were really a flame that lapped at his skin, his screams echoing just the same as if the manor had been a dim and gritty warehouse. And it may well have been: both places were filled, now, to the brim with bitter and desolate hope, and a resounding call for salvation.

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Jason Todd makes his debut! Also, sorry for the long break between updates! The motivation just wasn't there for a while, and school was really busy. And I know I say this every time, but I'm excited to get back into writing, and hopefully this time the motivation gods will favor me and there will be another chapter sooner than three months from now. Anyway, thanks so much for reading!

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Taglist: @tkiesai

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♡—DREAM was active on DreamFanartAcc! He liked:

Happy birthday George!! 💙

happy birthday georgie 😢🫶 we love u more than words !!!

so many tests crop up but hey i m not too late this year! he literally inspires me to get through the difficult time in my life, he is the nicest person that i have ever seen! Happy birthday sunshine💙💙💙💙

sweet sixteen to our fav 72 year old man 🥰

goob day!

BIRTHDAY BOY🩵🥳🥳

Day 6 - IRL Stream all around the world

Happy Birthday George!!

birthday boy ( =

HAPPY BIRTHDAY GEORGE

the season of the pumpkin has passed, the time of gogy is upon us

YIPPEE

⭐️ 27!!! ⭐️

Pumpkin Farmers 🎃🌟

HAPPY OLD DAY GEORGE 🥳

happy birthday george!! 💙

Happy birthday @.GeorgeNotFound!

i forgive it all as it comes back to me

Happy birthday @.GeorgeNotFound🥳🥳‼️

dtealloween

The goat vs chimkin

*spongebob frown sound effect*

It’s George’s day! 🎂

IT’S HIS DAY !!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY GEORGE!!! 🥳💙

Happy birthday George🥳 I appreciate everything you do for us <3 la papaya

Happy Halloween! 👻 🎃

christmas season is approaching!!

family <3

happy halloween from your favourite ghosty friends 👻🩵💚🧡

They’re party pumpkins your honour 🎃~ Happy late birthday George <3

HAPPY (LATE) 16TH BDAY GEORGE 🩵

💋

“yo who put this shit on" me standing next to the speaker:

don’t you dare run away, chimkin!🐓

waaay out of his league

girl dinner

dnf core memory’s ☹️🫶

27th George birthday stream-Dream

I'm late but GEORGE HAPPY BIRTHDAY&HALLOWEEN!! I love u

Its name is chimkin if you even care ://

i got so incredibly happy from the newest video 😭😭 so have some rushed doodles i did just now [we are ignoring chimkin’s death i dont make the rules]

Happy birthday 🎉 (totally on time)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY GEORGE !! 🪩☀️ its george day PARTY TIME

CHIMKIN COME BACK HERE!!

RUSHED BUT THAT’S OKAY BECAUSE JUSTICE FOR CHIMKIN

[pvrkacciosan]

The Heart of the Lioness: ☽⋆15⋆☾

Thief in the Mist

The Heart of the Lioness Masterlist

Previous Part

There was a crack of dry wood when the girl leapt down from the roof, running from and almost getting caught by an angry shopkeeper was not how she expected her afternoon to go. But here she was,

The stuffy air making the inside of her throat scratchy, swiftly in one movement she pulled the cloth up over to cover her mouth and nose,

"Get back here boy" a man shouted from above, he was a man of heavy eating, compared to her youthful pace she was surprised he could even keep up in the first place.

The girl looked up at the wall she had jumped off, the crooked coal smudged face of the shopkeeper peered down from above. 

The capital city in the Southern Continent was bustling with life, and The Thief would wield it like any blade.

Smirking she waved up to the shopkeeper, before rolling off the wood planks of a market stall roof, landing with a feline grace. With one last quick check to make sure her masks and hood were still in place, covering her face. If the shopkeeper believed her to be the opposite sex, then so be it. Made her life a hell of a lot easier when it came to escaping Royal Guards.

The stone of the street was coated with dust blown off the walls of the sandstone buildings,

Taking off into a run, she weaved through the crowd, brushing between bodies tightly packed together in the midst of the mid day markets.

An older man with a inflamed red scar running down the side of his face glowered at her when she banged into him, folding into a quick bow and shouting out an apology, she continued to move.

When the girl was a few places from the man she unfurled her fist, looking down to the pouch of coins she had swiped from his inside pocket.

Smirking she slipped it carefully inside her clothes, securing it into place she was off once more, moving through the city like a shadow, unnoticed, unbothered. If was the skill she had taught herself to master, after being alone for so many years and on the streets, one learns quickly how to survive.

Stealing the fortune of others was her workforce, at sixteen years old she had picked more pockets then a fully trained pickpocket who years of experience against her.

That didn't matter, not anymore, her life had changed and the opportunity of life became vast once more.

The busy city streets gave way to a quieter walkway that led to a dark tower. Guards were stationed at its entrance from the walkway. As seen by their rigid 'stick up their arses' postures.

The Torre Cesme was the biggest collection of healers in the world, all as highly trained in there trade as she was. Most she didn't put up with, though many claimed to help, sometime she found the healers inside weren't the nicest of people.

She passed the guards with ease, dragging a foot a step behind herself holding a hand to her thigh, lisping out a grunt as though her limp caused her physical pain. The two men allowed her in without a second thought. Fools.

Letting a Pride member into one of the south's most prized buildings, besides the palace. Some guards they were.

Being inside the buildings did little to allow her body to escape the heat from outside, the cool stone hallways chilling the air a little, it cleared her lungs. But that was it.

Sticking to the back passages she made her way up to the work stations of the healers,

There was faint noises of pain and discomfort coming from behind each door she passed but the door she aimed for emitted no noise. As it so often did.

Swinging it open with a nudge of her boot, her eyes tracked the body of a boy sat upright on the bed. His chocolate eyes snagged up to watch her, his small rounded cheeks were flushed with tear trails, 

A women knelt at his front, finished cleaning off the wound to the boys thigh, the girl by the door watched her rise, the dark work frizzed hair cascaded down the women's back, 

The young boy still watched her as she stood by the door, 

"Don't go playing around those boys no more, okay?"  the women, a healer, spoke the boys gaze finally moving from the body by the door.

"Yes Ma'am" He didn't look old enough to be wandering around without a parent at his side, but she couldn't help but wonder whether he might have been one of the children scavenging through the streets.

The injury to his leg must have been from a street fight, the girl could remember the days where she fought teeth and nails for scraps, somehow she always managed to best the much bigger kids who always wielded the knife.

The soft padding of the boys feet moved towards the door, pressing her back to the framework of the entrance she shot the boy a clipped smile when he passed, in the closer lighting she could see the lingering blue of a bruise on the protruding bone of his right cheek.

He halted, like a feline eyes of so many street cats, he too was peaking with caution, but a hint of curiosity glimmered behind the gloss of his pupils. 

The boy was gone a second later, like mist, he brushed against her slightly when he left but he didn't so much as utter a single sound.

"You're a day late, Yvonne " the healer said from across the other side of the room.

Yvonne pushed from the doorway, strolling in with a little skip to ever second step she took further into the room, "Postponing, isn't the same as being late"

"Oh I wasn't aware of such arrangements" 

She finally turned around, and Safa's beautifully tinted face met hers. Safa was regal in her good looks, her stark autumn orange eyes standing abrupt against her dark skin. She was only a few years older, yet her eyes and hands worked the magic of experience way beyond both their years.

"Who was he?"

The healer faintly smiled in the direction the boy had wandered off in before turning back, there was the light noise of glass jars being moved about, no doubt feeding into her impulse to organise and reorganise everything again and again.

"Keenan, I found him unable to walk outside the front gates this morning, he said someone dragged him there, but I think he crawled here himself. He's alone."

Those words struck up a storm inside her chest. Alone. Since joining the ranks of Commander Brielle's Pride Yvonne had been anything but.

Some part of her heart still lurched at the memories, that clawed at the back of her mind, it would do her no good to pester over the young boy. 

"Any news from the North?" Distraction, after distraction.

Safa's shoulders stiffened slightly, a jar tapped onto the surface of the work bench.

"If you came a day before, we could've read over the letter from Colden together" 

Yvonne walked closer, turning herself around she leaned her ass against the work bench Safa perched herself at.

"Oh, does he send his kind regards?"

The older spy shot her a quick flat expression before she returned to shuffling around her jars.

Yvonne watched her move the jars back and fourth, the herbs inside each smelling worse then the last, most of the plants were dried and were more crinkly then the elderly beggar Yvonne so often spotted on the street corners.

"Commander wants the usual." Safa uttered after she placed the final jar back into its place on the wooden rack mounted onto the wall.

"Oh fun" Yvonne couldn't be more elated, she might have even thought their commander had forgotten all about them.

Doing a little spin in the middle of the room, Yvonne spun to meet Safa's gaze once more, "I pinched a fat coin pouch off a tourist today"

"You never fail to disturb me sometimes"

"What?! it's good practise"

As if wanting proof for her loose moral accomplishment, Yvonne reached into the pocket of her cloak, Her fingers clasping thin empty air. The secure space for the coin pouch was empty. 

Yvonne was glad that Safa had turned back around to attend to her jars, as so the older spy didn't catch the surprised look that snapped onto her features.

The little tyke must had snatched it off her when he passed in the doorway,  Yvonne laughed aloud, Safa shot her a questioning look before turning to the work table once more, she grabbed the file with the Lion's paw print.

The moments in the doorway replayed in her mind like a loop, she hadn't sensed or felt him take the money, Safa held the file out to her, the Paw Print like a calling card, beckoning,  just challenging her to take it.

Gently taking the folder, Yvonne flicked through the pages within, tracking names, times, locations. Key facts that allowed her mind to formulate all it needed to. 

The Thief was back in action. 

 ~

Yvonne pulled the cloak in tighter to her body, if she wanted to catch Captain Westfall unaware she need every one of her skills to be sharpened to their finest edge.

Tricking the previous Captain of Rifthold's City Guards was no easy feat in itself, she would admit that. But not impossible, 

Before she left the healers, and spies room, Safa informed her that Brielle wanted no harm to come to the old Captain, he was an asset. She also mentioned his healing sessions with the Healer, by the name of Yrene Towers.

That had been two days ago, and Yvonne had been following the man for those two days. His routine was pretty set, Boring if you asked her, there was nothing fun, no stealing, or the minor fight, but that might be expected from someone who was still half paralytic

This was the same step of his daily routine, before he set round for food in the middle of the day, now, she would strike now, a pile of his things now lay inches away from where she was crouched behind the hollowing out inside of a dead tree.

It appeared that Westfall was training his body, keeping those working muscles trained and toned enough, that the sight was appeasing to even Yvonne. She was after all, still a teenage girl, despite all she had done in her Commander's name, and her own.

When he turned around once more, the responding ripple of his back muscles distracted her so thoroughly she almost missed her window, 

She had to pull it together, she was a member of the Pride, she couldn't afford to disrupt their plans, stemming through the lands. Everyone of them had roles to play, however big or small. Their commander wasn't discriminatory like that. Yvonne couldn't help when her mind wandered at night, wondering just what the overall goal was, what her friends in the Northern Continents might be doing, how her role played into the bigger picture.

Growing up with the stories whispered from the soldiers visiting from the royal legions, Yvonne had certainly heard of the Pride and the Female know in the South as Kanavari; The Mother of Spies.

Many of the street kids used to tell her stories to tourists for money, spreading the truths of her virtues and movements, for what little people knew of them. For whatever reason the Kanavari had sought her out, and given her the life she would never had been able to obtain herself. 

Yvonne crept out from behind the tree, towards the neat bundle of items, all tucked in amongst themselves.

Captain Westfall grunted as he moved, Yvonne quickly looked to make sure he hadn't turned back around before she begun to look through his things.

A brass pin was atop the pile, it's metal curve glowed in the morning light, the shine of its recently polished surface was practically begging her to take it. Yvonne snatched it from the pile, spinning of feather light feet to dart back behind the shadow of the tree.

Captain Westfall began to turn in the wheeled chair in which he sat.

Yvonne straightened quickly, tucking the pin into a seamless pocket hidden at the back of her thigh. Using the other hand to quickly throw back her hood, she could only hope she looked presentable enough as Chaol turned to spot her, inches from the tree.

"I'm terribly sorry, I usually come here for some quiet, I hadn't realised someone else might be here" Yvonne spat out the sentence quickly, the blur on her lips she spoke almost every time she got caught.

For those who weren't local, most people brushed it off because they were visiting. Though from the look of Lord Westfall's face Yvonne wasn't so sure she would get away with it this time.

Despite his eyes analysing everything there was to her, his voice was soft when he spoke, "My apologies my Lady, I won't be much longer, the space will be free once I'm finished. I'm happy for you to stay if that is what you wish"

If she hadn't just stolen something from him she might have said yes, She was still so tempted, He was at least a good six years older then her, but the sweat gleaming on the exposed muscles of his chest caught her eye, she couldn't help it.

"I'm sure you are used to girls ogling after you while you train Captain Westfall, but I'm not one of them," liar the voice yelled in her head.

At the mention of his previous title, Lord Westfall narrowed an eye at her, Panic flushed her head, the thrumming of her blood in her ears louder,

"So I bid you farewell" — for now.

Yvonne didn't give him a second to utter anything else, walking back around the side of the tree, she tried to keep a paced speed as she walked back up to the top path that led from the gardens.

It took Yvonne only a short matter or minutes to make her way back into the bustle of the city. Eating the distance up she moved through the dust coated streets.

A group of street runners, boys, ran through the crowd towards her adoring tanned leather coats which were far too big on them to be their own. Far too many of the street dwelling people stole from each other in order to just cloth themselves. It was a shameful life of distrust and misfortunes, and if you didn't learn to play by the rules, then the game had no use for you, beyond being the food for the apex predators.

At the front of the group a boy was paled faced and blue eyes burning with a mild panic, when the light hit his face as he sidestepped a women carrying rolls of cloth, Yvonne smirked, the young boy from Safa's healing room. Keenan. 

He kept on running as the other three boys behind him slammed into the women he had just dodged, the colourful rolls of fabric splaying out like a rainbow made materialised.

People move to help as the three boys scrambled back up, searching for Keenan. They took of running once more, flying past Yvonne, darting down an alleyway after the boy. If the knifes they carried were any indication Yvonne doubted their interaction with the younger boy was going to be pleasant.

Making sure the pin was secure, Yvonne followed the group of street boys into the alley.

The sunlight was shadowed in the cramped space between the buildings. It wasn't a terribly long distance, not so far that Yvonne couldn't make out the figure of Keenan, back to the wall a shard of glass clutched in his right hand, feet braced.

The three with their backs to her didn't show any hint of hearing her as she strolled along to hear their words, 

"Give it up," The boy in the middle laughed, twisting the knife in his hand, 

"You think we wouldn't notice the food you stole from us last week?" the one to the left sneered, 

Keenan readjusted his feet, readying for a fight. Had he not gotten himself cornered in the fist place Yvonne might have been impressed.

She cleared her throat in a two part fake cough, 

The trio spun, they were all considerably larger then Keenan, and the one in the middle was significantly broader in his shoulders. The one to his right, standing out with blonde hair, the one to his other side, brandished a scar running down his face.

Each of them looked older then her, nineteen maybe, and all were at least a foot taller then she.

"Piss off bitch, this ain't your business"

Clasping her hands behind her back, Yvonne took two steps closer. They eyed her up and down, the one to the left laughed, looking to his friends with wild amusement.

Keenan's eyes had widened, perhaps realising or recognising who she was. 

"Or what?"

The trio froze, 'broad shoulders' tilted his head, it was a cocky gesture, Perhaps she should have spoken louder.

"What did you say to me?" 'Broad shoulders' took half a step in front of his two friends, 

"You heard me." The others looked at each other as 'broad shoulders' took a full step towards her this time, if she lashed out with her dagger now, she could embed it into his throat— no delay.

"I suggest you clear out and leave us to our business" Keenan's face paled again when Yvonne flicked her gaze to him.

"Unfortunately," she exasperated a deep sigh, shrugging up with her shoulders " I cannot"

'Broad shoulders' flicked the knife to his side, Yvonne looked to it quickly, then turned back to the boy as though the gesture was supposed to frighten her, 

"You see," she stepped around 'broad shoulder', he whirled but didn't lash out, "That boy" she knocked her head in Keenan's direction, 

"Is under the Protection of the Pride"

Yvonne stepped up between the two others, both pulled rather rusty knifes from their person, closing the gap in front of her with their bodies, blocking her view of Keenan.

"Do you think we know what that means?" 'Broad shoulders' mused, mocking in his tone, his voice was close behind her, smart enough to follow her movement, dumb enough to get too close.

"Then let me translate that for you."

'Broad shoulders' moved first, his arm wrapping around her from behind, his weight was heavy, but being trained by the Kanavari had its perks.

Grabbing onto him Yvonne leaned back, kicking 'blondie' in the chest as he lashed forward, He stumbled back, giving Yvonne enough space to swing with both her feet, keeping grip of 'broad shoulders' grip, she flung him over her body as though he weighed nothing more then a small back of wool.

He grunted, and began to gasp for air when he landed, back first 

Springing up from the floor, Yvonne grabbed for a plank of wood, from a broken crate beside her, Grasping it tightly she swung it at 'scar face' when he leapt over 'shoulders'.

The wood splintered as it thwacked off his head, he fell with an even louder thunk. The gravity of the swing, spun Yvonne's whole body, taking those second to grab the curved dagger from the base of her back, her next swing was instantly met by one counteracted by 'blondie' who had recovered from his well placed kick to the sternum.

His hair was dishevelled, and eyes a raged sort of anger. 'Blondie' yelled out as he swung an arm for her, a rusty knife being the point of his arm, The curve of her dagger slide along the length of his, small sparks of golden light flickering.

'Blondie' grunted and pushed her body away, she stepped back, twirling the dagger in her hand. There was a flinch of hesitation in his expression before he darted for her once more,

Dropping to one knee, Yvonne used her free foot to push her body outward into a spin, avoiding him, yanking her arm up, the blade lay waste to 'blondie's' leg, blood instantly spurted out and continue to gush rapidly. A wonderful waterfall of red.

Damn, she got blood on her dagger, Making quick work of cleaning it against her leg Yvonne stalked closer to where 'shoulders' was now staggering to his feet,

Keenan was still pinned to the wall, whether he was frozen with shock or was just smart enough to stay put Yvonne didn't have time to contemplate as 'shoulders' advanced in a quick dart of movement, 

Yvonne threw her dagger into the air, and dropped once more, but this time spun with one leg straight, swiping 'Shoulders' legs out from under him

Scrambling wit utter surety Yvonne knelt up onto his chest, pinning his armed hand with her foot wedged into his wrist at his arms full outstretched length, Yvonne held out an awaiting hand as her dagger landed into her palm precisely when she expected it to.

'Shoulder's' eyes widened when she slowly dragged it to rest against his neck, 

'Scar face' was silent beside them, and 'Blondie' was whimpering from behind them. The noise becoming a whispered mewl. 

"Understand now?" she raised one eyebrow for good measure.

'Shoulder' gave a meek nod of his boxy head, she pressed the curve in further against his neck causing him to tilt away from her blade, 

"I said do you understand." Yvonne wasn't aware of where the lethal sounding tone of her voice came from, but as 'Shoulders' whimpered slightly, his body squirming beneath her, She decided she liked it.

"Yes!" Shoulders yelled out,  and there he was, the small child each and everyone of them had been before street life brought out the animals in them.

"Good."

Sitting up, Yvonne slide the blade back into its place at her back, 'shoulders' was quick to jump to his feet, Yvonne watched the thought process on his face, watched it pale when he looked to what exactly she had done to his friends, perhaps wondering how merciful she had been with him.

The unmoving bodies of 'blondie' and 'scar-face' were like debris in the alleyway, 'shoulders' didn't seemed to heed them much thought as he raced past them.

Yvonne straightened, placing a hand to her hips she sighed, "Well that took much more effort then needed"

There was a sound akin to a squeak, looking across to Keenan, the young boy was fully pressed to the wall now, the glass shard discarded to the floor. There was a thin streak of crimson flowing from his palm, a testimony to how tightly he had been squeezing the shard.

His expression had paled considerably since she arrived, a spark of surprise fluttered through her that the young lad hadn't passed out yet, 

"Wha— What are you?" 

Yvonne chuckled, walking towards him slowly, he tensed when she stretched out a hand, 

"It's a long story, not one the rest of the world deserves to hear" she looked up to the edge of the rooftops above them,wondering if anyone might be stupid enough to eavesdrop on a member of the Pride, when she glanced back to him, Keenan had followed her direction of looking.

When he met her gaze once more, his eyes held that same curiosity Yvonne had glimpsed at in their first meeting.

"Where are you taking me?" the curiosity sparked into a flame they all once harboured, Yvonne could strongly remember hers the day Commander Brielle found her.

"To your new family."

. . .

Taglist: @dreamiezpsycho@lunaralaraspace@mis-lil-red@mali22

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[transitofmercury]

HH Movie Magazine

A while back I got my hands on pictures of the issue of the Horrible Histories magazine that talked about the movie. I’m still trying to get my own copy, but I’d been looking for the magazine for a while and had like no details on it because it’s only proof of existence (as far as I was aware) was a super zoomed in image on Sebastian Croft’s Instagram, so getting pictures was a big deal. I know very few people will care about this but I thought I’d post the pictures here so people have access to them. They’re kinda blurry and hard to read, I’ve managed to figure out what most of them say and will type up what I think it says so people can read it. (Anything in square brackets is a section I’m not sure on, if you can figure out what it says please let me know.) I’ve focused on getting the interviews down but if anyone wants me to try and do the stuff written around the pages and on the other pages, I’ll do my best. I've also included any thoughts I wanted to add in red, but there hopefully wont be too much of that.

Interview with the Dazzling Director!

From the small screen to the big, Dominic Brigstocke chats to us about his time directing Horrible Histories!

How have you enjoyed your experience working within the Horrible Histories world?

It’s been amazing! When we first started the TV series ten years ago, I think we imagined that we would have to make things up to make history funnier. The more we looked into it, the more we realised that there’s nothing as absurd as what really happened in the past! Together with our amazing cast, who are inherently funny and who actually struggle to not be funny, it was a joy to make the film.

If you had to be a character from the movie, who would you pick?

The trouble with Romans is that they weren't a very nice bunch! Most of the good characters in our film are women - Boudicca is a strong, determined woman and so is Orla. Atti is a sixteen-year-old Roman whose got heart. He's probably the nicest boy in the film so I'd probably have to pick him.

Did you pick up any weird historical facts while filming?

I had always believed that Emperor Claudius was poisoned with a dish of mushrooms, but it turns out that, apparently, he was sick but then he felt much better. Nero and Agrippina finished him off with a poisoned feather, which is how Derek Jacobi plays it in the film. This is obviously an absolutely ridiculous way of killing someone! But Nero is a character that goes to ridiculous lengths.

What is your favourite scene in the film?

That's an easy question! There's a scene where Atti and Orla have to rescue Orla's grandmother who's trapped in a cage. They have to combine their resources - everything that Atti knows about science and technology from living in Rome and all of Orla's native Celtic wit. It's full of [a word that starts with "s", potentially stunts] and adventure!

If you could live in any era from history, which era would you pick?

The more i learn about history, the less I want to live in the past! The Romans were amazingly sophisticated with their legal system, medicine, [society] and the way they built straight roads but you all died horribly! We've never had it so good as we have it now.

If you had to pick a side, would you be a rotten Roman or a cut-throat Celt?

I'm British, aren't I? So I think I'd have to be a cut-throat Celt. My loyalties are divided here because I think the Romans were an amazing civilisation, but I don't think they should have gone around conquering people. My instinct is that I've been a Briton all my life and if someone invaded, I think I'd object.

This features the most interesting thing in this whole magazine (to me), Atti's age. Supposedly, he's sixteen. I guess this makes sense considering that Sebastian Croft and Emilia Jones were both 16 while this movie was being filmed, but I was so sure they weren't sixteen that I initially struggled to figure out what that said. In my head they've always both been 17 during the events of the movie. Anyway, I choose to ignore this, they're still 17 to me. That part about the catapult scene is interesting because, honestly, I've always wished Orla and her (different to Atti's but still there) intelligence featured more in that scene. I suppose we do get to see her quick thinking, ability to boss people around and how much she cares about the people around her (both in her dedication to saving her gran and not leaving Atti to be killed by the Brigantes, which would be a very easy way to deal with the fact that she told her dad she'd kill him and then didn't do that).

Interview with Awesome Atti!

Sebastian Croft talks to us about playing Roman teenager Atti…

What’s the best thing about being involved in Horrible Histories: The Movie?

The whole experience was genuinely amazing. From firing someone out if a catapult, to being in a [not sure of this word at all] battle and sword-fighting [my way out] - we did a lot of very cool stuff! If I had to pick one thing it would probably have to be getting to work all the other incredibly talented people involved in the movie. We really became a family over the course of the shoot and I’ve made good friends for life.

Are there any similarities between Atti and yourself?

Well, while I haven’t been captured by a Celtic tribe or sold someone horse wee in order to to get the latest trainers, I definitely see lots of myself in Atti. I was very adventurous when I was younger and I climbed a lot of trees (and fell out of a fair few, too).

What was your favourite scene to shoot?

I really enjoyed filming the songs. When we filmed the Battle of Watling Street song we had hundreds of people all dressed as Celts and Romans. Kate Nash, who plays Boudicca, started getting everyone pumped up before we shot the battle scene! It was an amazing thing to watch and [3 words]. It felt [electric] to be a part of it in the scene. Although I did pity us Romans who were facing the Celts led by Boudicca.

Did you get to do any cool stunts or action moments?

Yes, I did! We have a chase scene where Emilia is driving a cart which is pulled by a horse and then I fall off and have to sprint to jump back on. Now, while it wasn’t quite a Tom Cruise level stunt, it was very exhilarating and I’m glad we had to film it from so many angles because I got a lot of goes at doing it!

If you could be anyone from history, who would you pick?

Well, I love spy films and used to pretend to be a spy when I was little, so I guess I’d like to have been some kind of international secret agent on the side of good. But then they don’t really get documented by history, do they, because they were so secret!

If you had to pick a side, would you be a rotten Roman or a cut-throat Celt?

Of course I have to say a rotten Roman. Sorry Celts! They were more civilised, had better battle tactics, stronger armour and the best swords! But [let’s] not talk about taking sides. In the end, we all just need to be accepting of others and respectful of our [strengths and differences], right?

I don’t have much to say on this page. Fun fact though, the other stunt in that scene (where Atti and Orla fall out of a tree) used stunt doubles.

Interview with Original Orla!

Emilia Jones talks to us about playing cut-throat Celt, Orla...

What did you enjoy most about being involved in Horrible Histories: The Movie?

Everything! The cast, crew and creative team are really lovely people and it was such a fun shoot. I think we laughed until our stomachs hurt every single day. Nick Frost, who plays my dad in the film, has to be one of the funniest people on the planet. He had us all in stitches constantly!

Are there any similarities between Orla and yourself?

Yes, I think there are quite a few! I’d say that we are both determined, spirited and [word]. Orla is probably more [word] than I am and much [word] which made her a really fun character to play.

Do you have a favourite song from the movie?

I love all the songs! Whenever we filmed a [word, it could be routine but it’s definitely not song cause it’s too long for that], the whole cast and crew would be singing it all day. The music is really cleverly composed and sticks in your head for ages. If I had to pick favourites, I’d probably choose the Boudicca song and the Atti and Orla duet. Although, the finale song was super fun to film as well… see, I just can’t choose!

What is the weirdest thing you learned through doing this movie?

That the Romans ate sows udders and jellyfish omelettes!

Did you have a favourite behind-the-scenes moment?

When I slipped down the hill during one of my [dances] I [word] accidentally hit Sebastian with my sword. My sword skills improved as time went on! [potentially the grammar in that middle part is different to what I think and it’s “…one of my dances! I also…”]

If you had to pick a side, would you be a rotten Roman or a cut-throat Celt?

Well, I’m half Welsh so definitely a Celt… but maybe not a cut-throat one!

I love Orla so much and Emilia Jones always says such insightful things about her so I am so, so sad that this page is the hardest one to read. If you can figure out my gaps in the “are there any similarities between you and Orla?” response, please let me know. I am aware of the fact that I overanalyse this children’s movie, but Emilia Jones plays Orla really well in my opinion and I think it’s clear that she and Jessica Swale (who I presume wrote the story component of the movie, that then got Horrible Histories-ified by the other writers) both mean for Orla to have vunderabilities and be more complex than just a warrior woman trope. Also, when drunk, I once referred to them casting a half-Welsh person as a Ancient British character as being “half-accurate casting”. Orla is almost definitely a Brittonic Celt in my opinion, which makes her Irish (which comes from ancient Goidelic) name pretty wrong. It's also about 1000 years too early for her to be called Orla. Still, all the best characters are called Orla so I don’t care. Atti's name has issues too (where's his praenomen? why do he and his dad have different nomina?) but I'm not even starting with that.

Here’s the rest of the pages

I’m not gonna type them up cause I feel like they’re mostly easier to see but if anyone wants me to type them up I can. The image quality of these pictures when they’re posted will probably be way worse than it is on my phone so if anyone needs me to tell them what something says, I should be able to.

This has been crossposted to Dreamwidth.

[fanficpoet]

Give me your Worst(bonus content)

credit from Pinterest  @tipsyllama

BONUS CONTENT 

9th grade- 16 years old 

 “Do I look high?” I asked when I got a text from my mom saying dads coming home earlier than usual. It was uncommon and I was panicking. I started packing my stuff in a hurry trying to figure out how to get home quickly.

“Ralia dude chill the fuck out I will get you home faster then you can speak spanish.” 

 There are two things in this world i currently have a detest right now, my father and Mari telling me to chill the fuck out. I was petrified of the words coming out of her mouth. 

 Swinging a keyring around her finger and laughing, “trust me princess we will be getting you there on time.” 

 Pull the trigger on me right now. Shoot me. 

 Marilynn got her license the minute she turned sixteen. It was the one thing her brother Kyle promised to get her. I love her but she is a shit driver. It really was the one thing that I would rather be shot over than get into a car with her. 

 I was about to state how terrible of an idea it would be for me but before I could, however,  I was being pushed into a car. 

The cluck and shake of her car would be a dead give away to not get into said car. 

 Marilynn sang the whole way home to “another one bites the dust” . I love her but she has the music taste of a deadbeat father. She also doesn’t have such a sublime singing voice. 

 As we got closer to my gated neighborhood I told her to pull over so I wasn’t seen with her. I hated having to hide my friendship with her because she wasn't like one of us driving a nice car or had rich parents to buy her the nicest clothes. It was a secretive lifestyle I was born to live. 

I grabbed my perfume and quickly changed clothes in the backseat of the car so I didn't smell like weed. I started doing this because the people my mom paid for our laundry mentioned the smell. So, I had to start keeping a set of weed smoking clothes just for days like this. I would throw away those clothes everyday. This was my addiction at its highest point. I would hide and run away just to live with these secrets hoping they die with me. 

  I walked the rest of the way home. I took out a textbook from my backpack and every so often I would pretend to read it. It always felt like the eyes of my neighbors were constantly looking at me. For us being so rich they lived such boring lives. Drama was the only thing that fueled their lifestyle

 As I was walking I bumped into someone “watch where you are going, bitch.” I immediately took off running. No real reason I was paranoid. When I got home I saw my dad's car in the driveway. 

 “Okay, honey I get it. I will handle the bills this month, don't worry about it. I have everything under control.” calmly trying to handle my drunken father. 

 I slowly opened the door making sure I wouldn’t get unwanted attention but life is unfair and I must suffer the consequences for choosing to not be perfect. 

 “Why are you home so late huh? Who do you think pays the bills for you to eat, sleep, and breathe? I work hard and you aren’t even home before I am?”  he slurs angrily, tipping over to the right while standing. 

 “I was studying after school with some friends from the neighborhood. I walked home for some exercise.” I say calmly hoping this thing doesn’t pick up on my lies. 

 Before he could try and traumatize me some more the phone rings and that becomes my queue to leave the scene before I get booed offstage. 

  On days like this, I like to study or work on my many skills I need to learn. Anger fuels my passion for my future to escape. I used to be in karate until my mother took me out to be more lady-like. So now I currently draw and take my art on display in my closet for only my eyes to see. 

After hearing what sounds like a riveting conversation I hear the front door close and my mothers silent tears. I would’ve felt bad if this wasn’t so normalized. I wonder if her past self made her have this intense pain in this life. 

 ~”We are living for love”~ Dancing in the rain plays while the rain outside calms me from the rise of anxiety I feel sitting in my room. My normalized life of loneliness and acceptance that I will never be good enough. That nothing will stop my never-ending loud silence.

[motownfiction]

funeral suit

Sadie never figured she’d be the one to pick out Sam’s funeral suit.

When they were little children, they used to say they’d die in the same house, on the same day, when they were very, very old. Twins should be born together and die together, they said. They said they would look at each other, see their own face in the other’s eyes, and feel ready. They wouldn’t even talk. Just close their eyes and go. For years, that’s what they believed. Around sixteen, Sadie started to feel differently. Maybe she would die when she was very, very old, but Sam wouldn’t be there with her. Sam was going to live forever.

And then he died at thirty-five.

He wasn’t married, and he didn’t have kids. Their parents were distant and inconsolable, and for that first week after the accident, Charlie was just a notch above catatonic. That left Sadie on her own to plan the funeral (the funeral, Sam’s funeral, her twin brother’s funeral, which she’s planning on the day after Christmas at the age of thirty-five). She wrote the eulogy (with a little proofreading from Lucy), picked out the casket (the casket for her twin brother, the casket for the Sam, the casket where he’s going to be until he rots out of it because that’s the only thing he has left to do now), arranged the music (dug through all his old records to find his very first copy of Tim; the one he bought in the fall of ‘85 when it was still warm enough to leave his denim jacket at home), and made all the picture boards (with a little help from Michael and Rosemary, who can pretend it’s an art project, for now). Even Sadie can trick herself into thinking it’s a macabre birthday party for a couple hours a day. Just like Sam to request a Beetlejuice-themed party, anyway. But there’s something about picking out the funeral suit. Something that makes it feel realer than the casket.

She doesn’t buy anything new. Somehow, she knows Sam would have hated that. I don’t even get a say at my own funeral, he would have said, and Sadie would have agreed. She raids his closet instead. After all, she knows which clothes he liked. They never talked about it, but she knows. She can hear his thoughts even now that they’re gone.

In the end, there’s only one suit. Everything else is from a long time ago, when Sam was a toothpick. It’s the suit he wore to Lucy and Will’s fifteenth anniversary party in ‘98. Sadie remembers. She remembers the way he took to the dance floor by himself when they played “Dancing Queen.” She remembers the way he spun around and around and shouted, “It’s not overplayed if it moves you!” And then, she remembers what he wore underneath his jacket. Everybody else wore their nicest shirts with immaculate buttons. Not Sam. Never Sam. Sadie’s heart skips as she hits the floor and searches for more of his clothes. She has to find it.

And there it is. The t-shirt from the 1990 Paul McCartney World Tour.

Sadie and Sam drove all the way to Auburn Hills in February to see that show. Nobody else went. Just the twins. They swore they’d never forget it because it was the only time they heard Paul play “Things We Said Today.” In the end, they never forgot it for a different reason: It was the last concert they went to before Sadie had children.

She presses the old t-shirt to her chest, and the emptiness frightens her. Sam wore it all the time, almost like he was reminding Sadie of the way things used to be. And now, she’s going to bury him in it. She’s going to make it go away. She’s not sure if she can stand to see it so empty.

(@nosebleedclub july challenge -- day iii!)

[book-place]

Siblings and School

So this series is actually based on one that I read a long time ago. The credits for the overall idea goes to the original author, but I have done what I could to make everything else original by me

Series Masterlist

Warnings: bullying, mention of child abandonment, bad parents, cursing(?),let me know if I missed any :)

Parings: AU!Human!Archangels x OC sister (Astrid)

*not my gif*

Summary: Family is there for each other, no matter what… sometimes it’s easy to forget that

A/N: I hope you enjoy, but I was wondering if I should keep this as on OC or if I should do an xreader… thoughts?

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

Having one sibling was okay, two siblings started to be a lot, three was just too much.

Now imagine this, five siblings. Five siblings, six kids.

Five siblings, six kids, and absent parents. Add all those and you have chaos. You have chaos, and you have the Novak’s.

The Novak’s were what one may call a dysfunctional family. They had six people living in one house, and no parents.

The oldest is Michael, who is all of his siblings' legal guardian. He was only twenty three and was forced to grow up too fast due to his parents walking out on them. All of his siblings knew to never get on his bad side. It’s easier said than done though, due to his short temper. He was the one that tried to bring the money home to keep the lights on, and food on the table as a bartender. His long work hours made it so he wasn’t home very often. All of the rest of his siblings had jobs too, much to his dismay. He didn’t want them to have to worry about money, but they knew how bad it was and they tried to help anyway.

Lucifer was the second oldest at twenty one years old, and the troublemaker of the siblings. Though he was only twenty one, he had been arrested more times than all his siblings combined, and that’s saying something. Most of the time it was for picking fights, nobody knew though that the fights he picked were caused by someone talking bad about his family. He worked as a bag boy at a small grocery store in town, and the only reason he still had his job was because of the owner. Mrs. Ellen Harvelle was the nicest and most badass lady you’ll ever meet, and probably the only person in the world that Lucifer was scared of. Scared enough where he would listen to her and do what she says, therefore keeping his job.

Next up was Gabriel, who was only nineteen and is one of the world's funniest guys, in his opinion at least. He graduated high school last year, barely making it. He worked at the local toy shop and just so happened to be a major prankster. When he was not pranking his siblings though, he was actually a big softie who had a big sweet tooth and enjoyed disney movies.

Then there was Balthazar, an eighteen year old senior in high school. He was Gabriel’s partner in crime when it came to pranks, he was the one who’s able to set them up without the others noticing while Gabriel was the one who usually came up with the ideas. He was the oldest of his siblings that were in school still and he felt responsible for looking out for them there. He was always checking in on them and making sure that they were okay. When he was not at school he was working as a waiter at a small local restaurant.

Then there was sixteen year old Castiel. He was the sweetest person you would ever meet, until, heaven forbid, you got on his bad side, something nearly impossible to accomplish, then you will regret the day you were born. If you ever needed to just talk and have someone listen, then without fail, he was your guy. He worked at the town's small bakery, and he actually really enjoyed it. He also liked bringing some of the recipes home and making food for his siblings to enjoy.

Astrid was the youngest out of all of them, being fourteen, and she happened to be the only girl. Unknown to her, all of her brothers felt responsible for her and were very protective of her. She would sometimes be in on Gabriel and Balthazar’s pranks and help out with them. She worked at a local antique store for an old man named Bobby Singer, who had been kind enough to hire such a young girl. She was a sarcastic girl with a heart of gold towards her loved ones.

All of the Novak siblings had the same dad, but different mothers, making them half siblings. But that small detail didn’t bother the siblings in the least, as far as they were concerned they were real siblings and nothing could change that. They looked out for each other because it was them against the world.

Now, Astrid trudged home with tears running down her face. She could have taken the bus home from school, but she didn’t need the other kids seeing her like this and making fun of her even more. School always makes a day bad, but today was worse than others for Astrid Novak.

Unknown to her brothers, she was constantly made fun of and bullied at school. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem for the young girl, she was not afraid to throw hands and stand up for herself, but the things they had been saying recently had been hitting some nerves in the Novak girl.

Her and her brothers would always be made fun of for being the weird kids with the weird names and no parents. They would always stand up for themselves and their siblings, causing half the Novak siblings's town-wide known fights.

She would always stand up for her family when people brought it up, but recently it seemed that they completely forgot about her family and just targeted her and her insecurities.

They would talk about how she didn’t have parents, how she wasn’t pretty, and how she wasn’t doing well in her classes.

If she had known better, she would have known that her parents and grades were none of their business. And she would have known that she was actually a very beautiful girl.

She could have called one of her brothers to come and pick her up, they would have without hesitation. But she didn’t want them to see her like this. And they were thankfully all at work so they wouldn’t see the state that she was in when she got home.

Balthazar and Castiel got picked up by Lucifer in their families only car right from school so they could go to their shifts at work. Astrid didn’t start hers until later and her family thought that she had taken the bus.

She almost sighed in relief when her old beat up house came into view. It was a small, brown house with chipping paint and an old dinged up small gate in the front that didn’t even close properly. It wasn’t much. But to the Novak’s, it was home.

She pushed open the creaky gate just for it to swing back and forth and not latch when she let go. She walked up the uneven porch steps and jammed her key in the keyhole to swing the door, that was even creakier than the gate, open.

The family car thankfully hadn’t been in the driveway, meaning her brothers were on their shifts and Micheal was still on his.

Her plan had been that as soon as she stepped foot in the house, she would run up to her room, lock the door, and not come out for at least ten or so years.

This plan proved to be difficult though, when as soon as she stepped in the door, Lucifer rounded the corner. Astrid froze, he was supposed to be at work. The car wasn’t in the driveway, how was he there?

He was yet to see her as he shoved a cookie into his mouth. As soon as he saw her he let out a little yelp of surprise, nearly choking on his cookie in the process, “Please don’t tell the others! I promise I’ll get more cookies before they even notice!”

Astrid was so distraught that she hadn’t even put the pieces together that Lucifer had eaten the last cookie.

Then Lucifer suddenly became mostly serious, “Wait, you weren’t on the bus! Why weren’t you? We were worried sick!” Then he quickly covered up, “Not me though, nope! The others were worried, not me!” Then he saw the state she was in and immediately dropped the not caring act, “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He ran over to her, checking to see if she had any injuries.

Then Gabriel and Balthazar also walked around the corner, their eyes widened when they saw Astrid. She just roughly pushed his hands away before sprinting up the stairs. She heard their thundering footsteps behind her, but didn’t stop. She kept running.

Poor Cass, who she also didn’t know was home, had been trying to walk down the stairs and practically got trampled on by his younger sister. “What is- Astrid?” She kept running though, all the rest of the way up the stairs and then into her room.

She slammed the door and locked it in her brother's faces. A perk of being the only girl in the house was that she was able to have her own room while her brothers had to share. Gabriel, Castiel, and Balthazar shared a room. And Lucifer and Michael shared a room. She thankfully didn’t have to deal with any of that chaos.

“Astrid!” Cass’s worried voice came out as a muffled call to said girl as she backed away from the door.

“What happened?” Lucifer’s voice called in once Astrid didn’t answer his younger brother.

“Maybe she finally had enough of seeing your ugly face.” Gabriel suggested and Astrid heard a thump that she knew to be one of her brothers wacking him on the back of the head.

“What’s going on here?”

Astrids stomach dropped.

Michael.

He wasn’t supposed to be home, just like the others weren’t supposed to be. They were all supposed to be at work and Astrid was supposed to have been able to cry in peace before pulling herself together and acting like nothing ever happened when her brothers got home.

“We don’t know.” She heard Balthazar answer Michael a bit nervously, “She wasn’t on the bus and when she got home she ran straight to her room.”

There was a pause before a gentle knock sounded through the youngest Novak’s room, “Astrid?” Mike called in softly, “Can I come in?”

“No.” Astrid hadn’t meant for her voice to crack, but it did and it began concerning her brothers even more.

“Did something happen at school?” Michael pressed.

Cass quickly put his hand on his eldest brother's shoulder to quiet him down, “Michael, she might not want to talk about it right now.”

Even though he was whispering, Astrid could still hear her youngest older brother and was grateful now more than ever for him.

The oldest hesitated, before nodding slowly, “Okay,” then a little louder, “Okay, Astrid you don’t have to talk about it right now if you don’t want to. But please let us in just so we know that you’re not hurt.”

There was a long pause and Michael was about to speak again when he heard the sound of the lock softly clicking.

Quickly, all five of the Novak brothers piled into her room and were greeted with the sight of their only sister bundled up under the blankets of her bed, crying and sniffling softly.

They all immediately rushed to her side and Michael quickly got to work seeing if she was injured in any way, just as Lucifer had done only moments ago, “Are you hurt anywhere?” Was the first thing out of his lips.

She shook her head a little, refusing to meet any of their eyes.

“What happ-“ Lucifer was quickly silenced by Balthazar elbowing him in the ribs, hard.

The second eldest in the family turned to Balth in shock, clearly not expecting that, only to receive a shrug in return, “She’ll tell us when she’s ready.”

Lucifer was just about ready to lunge at him when Michael quickly gripped his collar and yanked him back to prevent him from doing so, “Enough, Lucifer.” His tone was bored, but his eyes held a warning, leaving the second eldest to shrug off his grip and cross his arms while muttering incoherent words to himself.

Gabriel just laughed at the whole exchange, but Castiel was studying his sister carefully, “Someone was making fun of her at school.” He said suddenly.

Everybody’s heads snapped up to face him, including Astrids, and they all had wide eyes.

Then the room erupted in chaos.

“What?”

“Who?”

“Tell me right now!”

“I’m getting the wooden bat.”

“Do NOT get the wood bat… get the metal one it hurts more.”

As all of this was happening around them, Castiel looked at Astrid with a guilty expression, not having meant to say that out loud. And she just looked at him in betrayal.

He had always been good at reading people and their emotions, which was how he knew what was going on with her without her even having to say anything about it.

“Enough!” Michael’s voice boomed above all the others, silencing the noise quickly, before turning to Astrid with softer features and voice, “Is that true?”

She finally met his eyes and hesitated before nodding slightly, causing everyone in the room to take in a sharp breath.

“How long has it been going on?” Gabriel asked, looking slightly pale.

She shrugged, “A while.” She mumbled quietly, but they all heard her.

“A while.” Balthazar mumbled as well in disbelief, staring into nothing.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Michael was still using the same soft voice.

Again, she shrugged, “I didn’t want to put another thing on all of your plates to worry about.” She admitted.

They all sighed, “That’s not something that we would be upset with you for worrying us about.” Gabriel reassured her, sliding onto her bed next to her.

Balthazar nodded in agreement, “If something like that is happening to you, we want you to tell us so that we could help you.”

That made everyone nod and express all of their different versions of agreement, even Lucifer.

“We’re here to help you.” Michael said softly, “You don’t need to hide anything from us.”

She finally looked up and met his eyes, a small teary smile on her face, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank us.” Cass said, not meeting her eyes.

Astrid moved her face so that he was looking at her, giving him a small smile to let him know that she forgave him, “Yes, I do.”

The rest of the night was spent with all six of them hanging out in Astrid's room, chatting and laughing, doing anything they could to take her mind off of it.

Come to find out none of them were at work cause there was a power outage in town where all of their works were and they didn’t find out until they got there, and the car wasn’t in the driveway cause Michael was just on his way home then.

And it worked, she was smiling for the rest of the night.

She was the first to fall asleep, and they all quietly slipped out of her room so that they didn’t wake her.

Nobody said a word until they were all gathered around the kitchen table in the dim light.

“So, what are we gonna do about those kids that were bullying her?” Balthazar asked, looking around at his brothers.

“I have a few ideas.” Lucifer said with an evil smirk and dangerous glint in his eyes.

If there was one rule that was actually followed in that chaotic household it was that Novak’s stuck together, no matter what.

[notstilinski]

I Want You Back Starters !

Taken from the 2022 Prime Video movie, I Want You Back! Some of these have already been edited. You can change them however you see fit! 

“Okay, what is this? Like, are you trying to be the cutest, sweetest, nicest partner in the world? Because you’re really winning.”

“Twenty-nine is the new sixteen.”

“Well, that was a really specific and hurtful thing to say. Not with me?”

“You’re very complacent, and that makes me complacent, and I wanted a big life.”

“I just don’t want you to break up with me. I love you.”

“You’re an adult… In a workplace. Get it together.”

“Pie isn’t actually that great. It’s very- There’s very limited options when it comes to pie.”

“Dying alone is not that bad. Like, why do you want someone to watch you die? That’s, like, actually embarrassing.”

“I don’t know. I feel like (Name)’s going through something right now, but any minutes, they’re gonna realize they made a terrible mistake, and then they’re gonna take me back.”

“What about this? It’s a good plan. Hear me out.”

“How about, whenever we’re feeling like we really have to call them, and we just can’t take it anymore, instead of calling our exes, let’s call each other.”

“Movies, like, twenty-five years old. I didn’t think that I could spoil it.”

“When you were little you used the word ‘lover’ in your thoughts?”

“I bet he's a cool hang.”

“(Name) has a kid who’s old enough to have his own kid.”

“I mean, people like to be my friend, I’m extremely affable.”

“So really this is just like a meaningless rebound kind of a thing.”

“Oh, the education system in this country is a hot mess.”

“They seemed really into each other but in that kind of way like, “These people might also murder each other.”

“But, just to be clear, I am a safe person. Normally you shouldn’t get into a car with any, like, random adult especially if they tell you they’re safe.”

“Well, my dad’s dead, so he doesn’t really have much sex with anyone nowadays.”

“We’re all just pretending to know what we’re doing, and we’re hoping that we don’t screw it up too badly, and then we’re feeling really shitty about ourselves when we do.”

“Oh, uh, not really. I just wasn’t expecting it so it’s a big adjustment, I guess.”

“And this dress is definitely going to make (Name) realize that he wants to take me out after for some drinks and some smooches.”

“I was going for charming, but I’ll take unusual.”

“That is so sweet and so weird.”

“Yeah? I mean, I do believe you said I’m the kind of person you can fall in love with slowly after several years.”

“Anyone can be a one-night bae. But the slow burn who gets under your skin, that’s way more rare. That’s your airplane safety mask person.”

“Is this one of those moments of being a grown-up where you realize you don’t know what you’re doing with your life?”

“I was going to say it was a very powerful interpretation.”

“I find you both to be... Incredibly attractive. And, um, I’m wondering, uh, how you would feel about me sometime, maybe, joining you in your bed.”

“It wouldn’t have worked out anyway, you know? We, uh- We had different love languages.”

“If I’m being perfectly honest, I can smell the moon right now which I didn’t know was a thing.”

“Yeah, well, they were in high school, so that was probably for the best.”

“I had roommates in college. I didn’t purpose to those dudes, you know what I mean?”

“Well, actually, I wanted to tell you because you’re the person I’ve been telling things to for the last six years, and I just miss it, you know? I miss it so much my body hurts, (Name).”

“Well, books are for dorks.”

“You know, it made me feel you that you believe in me. I just wanted you to know that I believe in you, too.”

“So, uh, what kind of sex stuff is (Name) into for when I have sex with them this weekend?”

“I don’t know what ‘platonic’ means, but you’re my partner now.”

“Like I said, I’ve had a lot of threesomes.”

“What am I doing? This is a crime. What have I become? This is a very nice house.”

“(Name), I think it’s time. I think it’s time for us all to have sex together.”

“No, no, but you mentioned that they're like the human equivalent of toast.”

“You ever feel like your getting left behind?”

“Yeah, constantly. That’s, like, one of my main feelings.”

“Sometimes seeing someone you loved embrace new love can be healing.”

“I don’t know if that’s the most annoying thing I’ve ever heard or if it makes total sense. Maybe a bit of both.”

“You're my slow burn.”

“Oh. So you’re insane. Great.”

“And maybe I’m your slow burn, but your not mine.”

“You know, even though we’re really mad at each other right now, I don’t regret spending all those years together. Not even a little.”

“We built a home together. All of our grandparents and two sickly cats died while we were together, and I think we really loved each other a lot. That makes me feel really lucky.”

“I am so sorry for everything. I need you to know I was in a really bad place, and I’m saying that’s an excuse. It’s not, but… I’m sorry. Uh… and that’s all.”

[wondernimbus]

a ghost story — cedric diggory

pairing: cedric diggory x female!reader

prompt: the thing with love is that it doesn't matter who it’s between; even if it's between someone who’s alive and someone who isn’t.

t/w: mentions of death

a/n: ahhh probably not gonna be able to post as much as i used to anymore bc i’ve been spending too much time on tumblr & social media DDD: anyways yay cedric 

If you wander the halls of the Hogwarts castle, it's likely you'll come across a translucent figure or two, some eager to talk to you and others who won't even bat an eye.

Ghosts. Some have been around for decades, others for entire centuries, but many have aimlessly roamed the grounds for so long no one really knows—or cares—where or when or how they died. There are those that are bitter and hold incessant grudges; they wander through walls, angrily uttering empty threats under their breaths that they have long since lost the ability to truly carry out. They are ghosts after all; mere imprints of the departed soul, according to the usual textbook, and there are a variety of things that they can no longer do that they once were able to when they were alive.

Take the young Hufflepuff ghost, for example, who died at the young age of seventeen, long before she could truly live her life beyond the school walls. Before she could graduate or find love or do whatever was on her agenda.

That in itself is a tragedy. But if you happen to come across her in the castle—because Merlin knows she is always, always wandering, never in one place at one time—you will see that the last thing she seeks is vengeance.

Quite the opposite, actually.

—

There were times when [Y/N] regretted choosing to stay.

Times when she drifted through the corridors of Hogwarts and found herself wishing she’d left all of it behind and moved on to the afterlife—no matter how uncertain the idea of it seemed—instead of having to live every single day watching students go about talking and laughing and living the life she never got to live.

It could have been torture; watching them grow from timid, wide-eyed children oblivious to the workings of the world, to reckless teenagers who took every moment they had for granted, to slightly more mature versions of themselves, ready to venture out into the world beyond them and go down whichever path they wanted to. Become an Auror, maybe. Or a Healer. Start a family, grow a business, explore the world.

It could have been torture.

But that was only depending on which way she looked at it. She could have looked at those very same students and seen a life she never got to experience. But she could have also looked at each of them and seen a life she could experience over and over with each new batch of innocent first-years—and yes, it wasn't her life to live, per se, but wasn't that the magic of it all? To watch from the sidelines and witness them grow and blossom and do as much as they could with the life they'd been given?

So yes—there were times she regretted choosing to stay—but there were also times she was grateful she did.

It was the little things like whenever she spotted a lost first-year and helped him find his way. Or when she roamed the corridors and earned waves from friendly students. Or when she told them stories like the one about the Bloody Baron and Peeves fighting and the other ghosts having to break them up. (It was a story that she told quite often, but one they—especially the children—never got tired of.)

And in exchange, they told her stories. Who was dating who. Who broke up with who. Who might be breaking up with who. She'd become a friend to many students; a listening ear, albeit a translucent one.

But the catch was obvious: those students had to leave eventually, and [Y/N] had to stay.

It was sad, at first, having to bid farewell to her friends when they graduated. But it had been a hundred years and [Y/N] had grown used to it. The knowledge of forever being stuck at seventeen while they got to age and marry and do as much as they wanted to with the rest of the time they have.. well, it didn't quite hurt as much anymore.

It shouldn’t hurt when she had to say goodbye. At least not anymore, when she'd been doing it over and over for the last century.

So it shouldn’t have hurt—the idea of losing him. He was just one of the thousands of students she'd met, after all. Just one more person she had to let go of.

It really shouldn’t have hurt.

But it did. And [Y/N] may have been a ghost, but she wasn't dumb, so it didn't take her long to figure out that it hurt because she'd fallen in love. It was a very stupid move on her part, given that she was a bloody ghost and he was very much alive and human, but. Well. Love was love—no matter who it was between.

—

[Y/N] remembers Cedric when he was just eleven years old, young and energetic and a little naïve.

He was one of the nicer ones, if not the nicest. (Because of course there were those that weren’t as open to the idea of befriending a lonely Hufflepuff ghost; why bother talking to someone dead?)

Cedric had strayed away from his group of first-years to approach her by the staircases. She’d been hovering above the banister, watching them fondly—a little longingly—until he came up to her, beamed with a blinding sort of brightness, stuck his hand out, and then said, “Hi, it’s nice to meet you!”

[Y/N] had stared at him, slightly surprised. Usually it was the first-years that took a little longer to befriend, given that most of them had grown up believing ghosts were to be feared, but every few years or so there’d be someone like the little eleven-year-old boy in front of her whose name she did not yet know, eager to make friends—even with a ghost.

”Hi there,” she’d said, own lips quirking up into a small grin as she stared down at him. “Are you sure you want me shaking your hand? It’s going to be a little cold.”

”That’s perfectly fine!” His eyes were bright; extraordinarily so. They gleamed with so much childlike innocence that [Y/N] found herself thinking back to vague bits of her youth that she didn’t know she remembered. “You looked lonely, so.”

She’d laughed. “Well, if you say so.” And when she reached out and shook the little boy’s hand—or, well, tried to—her own slipped right through his solid one.

He’d flinched and pulled his hand back. “That was really cold!”

Another laugh. “See, I told you.”

”Well, it was nice meeting you, anyway. I’m Cedric, and—“

”Cedric!” a Hufflepuff prefect was calling to him. “Come on, now, we’ve got to get to the common room!”

Cedric had pouted. “Well, I’ll see you around.. um..“

”[Y/N],” she’d told him, smiling softly, glad to make a new friend. “My name was [Y/N].”

—

She saw much of Cedric over the years, given that he was in Hufflepuff and thus often roamed the same corridors she haunted. But she had a feeling that even if he weren’t, he was still the type of person to go out of his way to search the vast grounds of the Hogwarts castle to look for her, because to Cedric, she was just as much of a friend as any of his other human ones.

She watched him grow with the passing of time, along with the other students, although part of her had grown especially fond of him. Cedric, whose talent for storytelling rivaled her own—whose kindness and compassionate heart rivaled just about anyone else’s—was not just another fleeting moment in her countless years at hogwarts. [Y/N] knew she would remember him when he left. She just didn’t know how hard it would be when he did.

—

When Cedric reached sixteen, it was only then that he changed in [Y/N]’s eyes; he’d gone from a little eleven-year-old with round, pink cheeks to something akin to a man, athletic and intelligent and exceptionally handsome.

When Cedric reached sixteen, [Y/N] was still seventeen. The same age she’d been for a long, long time.

[Y/N] was a ghost, and she had no real purpose anymore. Cedric was alive, and he had classes to go to. Other friends to talk to who had living, beating hearts and something in life to actually look forward to. Friends who he would still talk to long after he graduated. Friends who wouldn’t be bound to the castle until the end of time (if there was an end).

And yet Cedric spoke to her as though she was anything but a ghost.

He didn't just briefly wave to her whenever he saw her in the hallways, no; he would ask her how her day went, as if it actually mattered. He confirmed her previous suspicious; he didn't just count on their opportune meetings. He looked for her. His friends would find it strange, but he'd detach himself from them in favor of roaming the corridors, searching for a ghost, eager to tell her about his latest adventures.

Cedric made her feel like she was human. Made her feel like she was alive.

Whenever she spoke to him, it was as though her heart started to beat again for the first time in a hundred years. She wondered if he felt the same way, even if the notion of it was ridiculous. The idea of a ghost catching feelings for a human was a bizarre idea in and of itself, but of a human reciprocating those feelings? For someone who technically didn't even exist?

It was unheard of.

It was unheard of, but it wasn't impossible.

—

[Y/N] spent many nights in the Astronomy tower.

She couldn't remember much of her life. The memories faded away from her with each passing day, becoming blurry at the edges, like the longer time stretched on the farther away they went. They were still there, but she only vaguely recalled workings of the world, emptied of specifics, faces, names back from when she was alive. Like shelves labeled for memories, except they were empty.

She couldn't remember how she died, either, or why she chose to stay. It was odd. As far as she knew, the other ghosts knew fully well how they came to perish. But she wondered if maybe it was better that way; maybe she forgot for a reason.

But the Astronomy tower felt oddly familiar. There was something about it that drew her in. She knew it was relevant to her, in some way, even though she wasn't entirely sure how.

So she would stay there at sundown, looking out over the edge of the railing waiting for a blanket of stars to appear in the sky. Waiting for memories to come back to her, even though part of her knew that they weren't likely to.

The first time Cedric ever found her there, in his sixth year, he'd exclaimed, "There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you", and—oh.

For a ghost, [Y/N] always seemed to be exceptionally happy. Her eyes were always impossibly bright for a dead soul. But now she looked the saddest Cedric had ever seen her, like she was thinking back on all those hundred years she spent with the students and yet at the same time so very alone.

The sun had already set, the last bit of daylight filtering into the tower from the open sides. Cedric had walked forward and silently joined [Y/N] at the edge, sitting down on the floor next to her and staring out at the horizon.

He didn't say anything. He knew this wasn't about him; [Y/N] had to be the one to speak first.

Cedric didn't count the seconds as they passed, just stared out at the fading light as he waited. And waited. And he knew he would wait as long as it took.

And then, finally—"I wish I remembered how I died," she said quietly, her eyes glued to the scenery before her, and if she were alive there would have been tears inside them. Instead there was only a painful sort of wistfulness. "Or why I chose not to move on. I wish I knew, just so I’d feel justified in staying. But I don't. So now I don't know why I’m still here instead of—" she paused, frowning. "Well, I don't know what's beyond here, really. What real death is like. But it can't be too bad, can it?"

Another brief pause.

“I get brief flashes of my life sometimes," she murmured. "Nothing too big. Nothing enlightening. Nothing that really answers my questions. But I get most of them when I’m right here, in this tower."

For the first time since he sat next to her, [Y/N] turned her head just a fraction of an inch to look at him, eyes meeting his. "And when I’m with you," she said, voice soft. "When I’m with you, Cedric, I remember what it felt like to be—" a sharp exhale, as though it was exhilarating to say it out loud, "alive."

Cedric held her gaze for a few seconds. Maybe more. And then, quietly, as though he was letting her in on a secret (and in a way, he was): "If I told you I loved you, what would you say?"

There. It was a revelation, if anything, both to himself and to her. All the confirmation both of them needed that humans could love whoever they wanted to, even ghosts like her. Cedric had done it, hadn’t he?

He’d known her for seven years, and slowly, gradually, he’d fallen for her. No matter the fact that they were from two drastically different worlds. That was enough proof.

She was unresponsive for a while. And then she laughed. A sad sound. She turned back to the horizon, such little light left to seep through her translucent skin. "I’d say you were daft, falling in love with a ghost."

"If I asked you to wait for me," he reached out towards her hand, which was set on the floor. This time Cedric didn’t wince, even though it felt like he’d plunged his arm in icy water. "What would you do?"

She frowned down at their hands. It took her a long, long time, but when she spoke again, Cedric knew she meant it.

"I’d wait," she told him. Her smile was sad. "I’d wait for you, Ced. And I can only hope that you'll remember me, when the time comes.”

—

[Y/N] had been ready.

She’d prepared herself for the idea of waiting for a long time. A few more decades at most.

Cedric was going to leave, and she was going to stay. He would graduate and she would stay. He’d find a job, live the rest of his life to the best of his abilities, get married, start a family. Cedric would die, someday, and [Y/N] would stay at Hogwarts, forever seventeen, counting on the almost-promise he’d made back at the Astronomy tower.

A few decades more and she wouldn’t be so lonely anymore. A few decades more and maybe she’d start feeling a little like herself again.

But the idea of Cedric staying for her when he does die years and years and years from then—of asking him not to move forward into the afterlife and stay bound to the castle forever, just so she’d have someone to be with..

It was selfish.

But Cedric told her that it was his choice. When the time came, he said, he would choose to stay with her.

It almost made Cedric cry, thinking about it—about her just being here, staying just like this, for years more, and him growing older and older, growing apart. In the grand scheme of things, seven years spent learning to love a ghost shouldn’t have meant much, especially for her, who would have centuries more time to exist. But sitting here, with her cold hand almost in his, Cedric decided that the seven years he'd spent with her were the happiest moments of his life.

It could be sad. He could think of those times and see seven years of being so close to the girl he loved and yet at the same time so terribly far; unable to hold her the way he really wanted to. But he could also see the seven happiest years of his life; a time filled with love and adventure.  A time that defined him, molded him into everything he was today.

So no, Cedric wasn't sad. He was the happiest he'd ever been and would ever be in his entire life.

—

”Aren’t you scared?”

”Of what?”

”Of dying.”

Cedric kept his eyes on the stars, gaze wistful as though he was thinking of a life that he had yet to experience. "I don’t think so. Not if I think of what's waiting for me beyond it."

"Decades from now."

He turned to look at [Y/N], then down at where their hands were just inches apart, one solid and the other translucent. One dark in the night, one glowing silver. “Decades.”

A lot could happen in several decades. Cedric could change his mind. Several decades from now, he could look back on the young ghost from the Hogwarts castle and decide that maybe she wasn't worth staying for. Or he could just forget, and never once look back over his shoulder.

But [Y/N] trusted him, and she was ready to wait.

She’d wait for as long as it took him.

—

The day came far earlier than she'd been expecting.

When news broke that one of the Triwizard Champions had been murdered, [Y/N] had felt fear, for the first time in a very long time.

And when the hushed whispers of horror turned into murmurs of Cedric’s name, mourning him, crying for him, [Y/N] had felt anguish so terrible it was as though she was dying all over again.

Cedric wasn’t supposed to die. Not this early.

—

The next time she saw Cedric, for the first time in seven years her hands didn’t go through his anymore.

—

Cedric never regretted it, choosing to stay.

Admittedly, when Death came knocking and asked him the question he thought he'd have to answer far, far into the future, there was a split-second of hesitance.

Just a tiny moment of doubt. Just one. Moving forward into the afterlife, letting Death take him once and for all, leaving this world to set forth into whatever lay beyond it; it was the idea of that that made him hesitate.

But then he thought of [Y/N]—of the idea of being able to hold her the way he could never have done in life, and to be able to do that as much as he wanted to in death. Of being able to finally be with her. Of having her after being so terribly close to it for so long.

He thought of her, and he knew what he wanted.

—

For centuries, there have been two young ghosts who roam the corridors of the Hogwarts castle hand-in-hand, eager to offer a helping hand to anyone who might need it, never running out of tales of love and magic and laughter to tell the students, who, in turn, go to them bearing stories of their own.

They died too young, the pair of them. But the youthful gleam in their eyes never died out, and neither did the love they held for each other—the love that was there long before the other died. The love that will stay until the end of time (if there is an end).

Often you can find them roaming the Hufflepuff corridors. Some say they see the two ghosts in the Astronomy tower, mostly during sundown, sitting on the edge by the railings as the last traces of daylight trickle in through the open windows.

But they are always there, if you look hard enough. Always eager to offer a helping hand. Never apart. Never one without the other.

They call them Cedric and [Y/N]—the ghosts who died too early, and yet were lucky enough to find love. One in life and the other in death.

Call it magic. Call it a miracle. Call it nothing at all; but somehow, two people who were perhaps never meant to find love in each other, got what they wanted, in the end.

And Death knows all they ever wanted was each other.

[redhoodieone]

Welcome Home

A/N: Hi everyone! This is an old fic that I’m re-posting for those who want to read it. Enjoy!

WARNINGS: Language and Smut.

  I knew my family was different the moment I found out my adoptive father was Batman. I was just a ten-year-old girl when I snuck down the stairs at midnight for a drink of water and spotted Batman leaving a trail of blood from his study and calling out for Alfred for help. The moment our eyes locked, Bruce instantly knew that I was clearly aware of his secret. He had also confessed it was him who saved me from a shootout that my parents were involved in and that it was him, as Batman. I felt I owed Bruce my own life for saving me, and I vowed to keep my father’s secret and pray that he would return home safely every night back to me.

It didn’t help that I soon discovered my adoptive older brother Dick Grayson was Robin. Not only did I have to keep his secret as well, but it made it more impossible to not have a crush on him. I mean, Dick has such a charming personality, beautiful baby blue eyes, and a devilish smile that can make any girl crawl on her hands and knees. And that ass…

I later found myself becoming the second Robin once Dick left to assume his own identity, Nightwing. Bruce trusted me, and he saw potential in me the second I told him I couldn’t see myself being a hero forever. Perhaps he never really wanted me to be his sidekick and figured if I got it out of my system that I could resume my life as a sixteen-year-old and do normal teenager activities. As if my life was normal anyways.

But things changed as soon as I was finally embracing myself as a hero. Bruce had taken in a new kid, Jason Todd. He was a troublemaker, a rebel, and a mysterious kid, who had never even spoken to me unless he had to. I don’t think my age helped the situation either; I was a couple of years older than him and he may not have seen me as an equal. But of course, the dark haired, icy blue eyed, bad attitude boy was given the Robin title, and I was removed because of a patrol-gone-wrong situation.

Stupid Harley Quinn and her baseball bat. Who knew one hit to my knee could bench me for two months (Alfred added an additional five months of rest).

Then the unthinkable happened. The second Robin was killed by the Joker. Jason Todd’s death put Bruce into a depression, and he swore he would never put another kid’s life in danger. Our father and daughter relationship broke apart before my very eyes. I spent my remaining teenage years in the mansion isolated, except for Alfred’s loving company.

I had graduated high school on time and I quickly decided to go to Gotham University to escape the Bat family. Before I moved out, I discovered Bruce had taken in another kid, Tim Drake, who was currently the new Robin. Was I hurt? Of course, I felt I was somehow replaced. Would I miss the Bat family? Maybe. Maybe not.

I did in fact wish the new younger Robin good luck. When Tim looked up at me, his light blue eyes were so innocent and frightened about me leaving him behind. I didn’t know why he would be so upset about me leaving; wouldn’t he want all of Bruce’s attention without me hanging around the mansion?

Now I’m twenty-one-years-old, and I’m still a student at Gotham University. Alfred had just called and informed me Bruce wants me back home.

As I sit in a taxi while anxiously waiting to pull up to Wayne Manor, I honestly don’t know why Bruce wants me back at home. Alfred has kept me up to date about the Bat family incidents and activities I have missed out those few years such as:

Dick Grayson becoming a womanizer (I saw it coming) and how he’s juggling working as a police officer and Nightwing. He’s still the favorite and golden child in Bruce’s eyes.

Jason Todd is back from the dead, and he’s currently operating his own team: Red Hood and the Outlaws (who knew he was leadership material underneath that thick skull of his?).

Tim Drake is Red Robin (does the fast food chain restaurant know about his superhero name?), and he’s currently assisting the Teen Titans when necessary while simultaneously aiding Bruce with detective work.

Damian Wayne is Bruce Wayne’s unknown biological child. I think he’s about fifteen-years-old now; from what I remember the last time I spoke to Alfred. I met Damian once, when Bruce asked me to meet him once Talia al Ghul practically dropped him off at Bruce’s doorstep. The boy was a little shit: bratty, stuck up, and insensitive. Even though he is the spitting image of Bruce, minus the different colored eyes (Bruce has blue and Damian’s are green), Damian claims he is set to take over the cowl when Bruce is either dead or done. God help us all…

But I still can’t figure out why I am needed back home. Is Alfred sick? Is Bruce dying after fighting all these years? Is it one of my brothers?

I jump in surprise once the taxi comes to a hard stop. After paying the man, I grab my duffel bag and I climb the front steps that I suddenly remember jumping off them as a kid. Alfred scolded me many times, and I still did it because being bad was fun.

I scoff loudly, and I jump down the five steps that would have given Alfred a heart attack. Maybe I haven’t changed as much as I thought.

I find the wooden front door unlocked, which is odd considering Alfred always makes sure to lock it. As a matter of fact, Alfred hasn’t greeted me like he always does when I come home. Where is Alfred?

After I unwrap my scarf, I pull my hoodie over my head to be more comfortable in the warm house. Sadly, I forgot to do laundry yesterday, so I came home in just my black yoga pants and red tank top. What would Alfred say?

I kick off my shoes and walk to the kitchen barefoot. Pulling my long hair into a ponytail, I notice a note on the counter that’s written for me. I unfold the note and stare at the nicest, well done cursive handwriting only one man can do here.

 Dear Lady Y/N,

I sincerely apologize for not being there to greet you properly. Master Bruce had wanted me to take my holiday to London early, and Lord knows I can use a week to myself after stitching up countless wounds, tidying up bedrooms and Bat caves, and playing messenger between you and your father. I have a cooked roast with garlic mash potatoes in the refrigerator if you are hungry. Do heat it up and perhaps show your father and brothers how to use the microwave.

I dearly love you and the boys,

 Love Alfred Pennyworth

P.S.

Look into the highest cabinet above the refrigerator, and you will discover a jar of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies just for you.

 I grin widely, and before I can turn around and find the cookies, I’m stuck between the counter and a tall, hard body behind me. I freeze.

“Welcome home, Y/N. I missed you so much,” Bruce whispers in my ear. I can feel his hot breath above my shoulder and neck. The familiar smell of his expensive cologne fills my nostrils. His large hands rub my legs and grip onto my hips very hard. “Did you miss me?”

“H-hi dad. W-what are you doing?” I ask softly, but I know it came out like a whisper. One of his hands is holding my waist, while the other caresses my abdomen. It feels strange considering Bruce is supposed to be my father, and we shouldn’t be this close or even touching each other. But a part of me wants to keep feeling his hands on me and see what he does next.

“Holding you. Smelling you. Touching you,” he answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He breathes harder when I press my backside against his front by accident. “It appears you want this too. Am I correct, Y/N?”

His hand pulls down my yoga pants enough, so he can reach into my underwear. Bruce continues to breathe hard from his nose when his fingers find my core. His thumb rubs fast circles on my clit, while he pushes two fingers inside me. I bite my bottom lip to stop a loud moan from coming out of me, but he appears he’ll have none of that. He stops fingering me.

“You better be loud, or I won’t let you cum, Y/N.”

Before I can beg him to keep going, he turns my face, so I can look him in those cold, pale blue eyes. “Please tell me you’re…not a virgin.” Bruce’s face is twisted in pleasure from just fingering me, but I can tell his lips are trembling and there’s a soft but pleading look in his eyes. This must hurt him as much as it’s hurting me.

“I-I’m not,” I confess, and wonder if he would change his mind if I said I was.

“Who was it with?” Bruce demands. He kisses along my shoulder to my neck before he bites on my soft spot. I hiss in pain and I grind into him again.

“Josh Mitchell. I was sixteen,” I answer harshly.

“Was he any good?”

Before I can answer, Bruce shoves the front of my body onto the counter, while he pulls down my yoga pants. My adrenaline is rushing, and I can feel myself wetting the counter from just his roughness. I can feel him unzip his pants and I can already imagine this thick, hard cock fucking me into oblivion.

“No, no he wasn’t good at all!” I cry out.

“Good, I’m actually relieved to hear that,” Bruce says, as he starts to stroke himself. “Do you want me to fuck you, Y/N?”

I want to turn around and watch him jack off. Hearing him pleasure himself isn’t enough. Bruce then jams two fingers back into my pussy and I whimper loudly. It has been too long since I’ve been intimate with a man. I need his cock now!

“I asked you a question, Y/N. Do I need to remind you who you are supposed to answer to?” he says seriously before adding a third finger inside me. I grip the counter and I breathe harder. I find myself rubbing my pussy on the edge of the smooth countertop for more friction, but he grabs my hips and stops me. “Now, do you want me to fuck you, Y/N, or should I leave you here, so you can dry hump the countertop alone?”

I growl louder, while my nails scratch the counter top. “YES! Yes, I want you to fuck me, Dad!”

As soon as those words left my mouth, I immediately wonder if I killed the mood. Why would I call him ‘dad’ when we’re about to have hot, rough sex in the kitchen? I need to apologize. I push myself up on my elbows and I shift my head to the side to apologize. I open my mouth to speak but stop when Bruce’s eyes darkened, and he growls as he slams his thick cock inside me.

I moan louder than I have in my entire life. His cock fills me up so much that I fear I won’t be able to walk straight for the next week or two. Bruce lifts my legs up and continues to shove me against the counter with every hard thrust. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to fuck me. The man is practically drilling into me with no kindness at all.

“Oh fuck! You’re so fucking tight. So wet and so hot,” Bruce groans out. With each thrust, I can feel he wants to let go and fuck me like he owns me.

“Go ahead, Dad. Fuck me. Fuck me like I’m yours and only yours,” I tempt him playfully.

Bruce growls and rams his cock faster into me. He keeps knocking the air out from my lungs, and I can feel my body pulsating against his. I grip the countertop harder each time, and I know my knuckles are turning white and becoming numb every second. With one hand on my hips, Bruce moves his other hand up my tank top to hold my tits.

“No bra? You’re a bad girl,” Bruce says in between panting.

“I forgot to do laundry,” I choke out.

“Excuses,” he manages to say, as he holds me up more, so he can penetrate me deeper. His cock is hitting a deeper spot in me. It must be my g-spot, because I have read about it but never actually felt it to know. I can feel myself clenching his dick tightly, and I know I’m getting closer to release. “You wanted me and your brothers to see your tits, huh?”

“Maybe,” I cry out louder than what I intended to. Fuck, what if one of my brothers hears me? They’ll really think I’m insane for fucking our father and for loving it every second. Bruce readjusts our position once more, so he can hit that spot continuously. “I-I think I’m going to cum!”

“Not yet, you better not!” Bruce growls, and drills into me harder and faster. With his powerful thrusts and the constant friction from the countertop on my clit, I know for a fact that I can’t last longer. His hands hold onto my hips while he fucks me harder than before.

I become a moaning mess. I can feel my mouth drop open because I feel liquid coming out from my core. Did I just squirt? What the hell is happening to me?

The sounds of skin on skin is louder because of my mess. I drop my head onto the counter while Bruce continues to fuck me. Before I can catch my breath, Bruce chuckles and lifts me up. “I just made you squirt. That has never happened before, has it?”

“No, that was my first time,” I answer breathlessly. He kisses my neck.

“You’re so wet,” Bruce grunts into my ear. Breathing heavily, he lifts my hips again, so he can rub my clit with his fingers. “You’re making a mess all over my cock. You’re such a bad girl.”

“I’m your bad girl,” I moan out, as I can feel another orgasm threatening to take over my body.

“Fuck yes, you are!” Bruce groans, and continues to shove his cock into my soaking wet pussy.

With every rough thrust, I know Bruce won’t last. I whimper once more when my pussy clenches his dick as he fucks me through my orgasm. A few more hard thrusts, Bruce pulls out and turns me over onto my back. He jacks himself off as I watch his cum spurt out all over my stomach.

Just seeing his hard, veiny thick cock before me turns me on once more. I lick my lips at how the tip of his dick glistens with his cum.

Bruce sighs heavily, and just when I think I should try to get up and clean myself, he pulls me up and kisses me. He shoves his tongue into my mouth, and we explore each other’s mouths as if this was our last chance to. He pulls away from me and rests his forehead against mine.

“You’re mine, Y/N. You belong to me, and the Batfamily. I don’t care who wants you, because you will never give them what you have given me. Do you understand?” Bruce asks, before giving me his famous bat glare.

“I understand, and I promise,” I swear before he kisses me once more.

“Good, now go wash up,” Bruce instructs before he helps me off the counter.

I grab a paper towel and wipe Bruce’s cum off my stomach before I pull up my yoga pants. As soon as I toss the damped paper towel into the trash, I immediately notice Dick Grayson is standing there at the entrance of the kitchen staring at me with fire in his eyes.

[lettheladylead]

The Golden Heir Chapter 2 - The Box [Ch1] [Ch3] [Ch4] [Ch5] [Ch6] [Ch7] [Ch8]

When she woke up in the dark, odd little box prison, Goldie’s first thought was oh alright, at least I’m still alive.

Her next thoughts were wondering how long she’d been out and where she was and why the hell did Black Heron show up out of nowhere and kidnap her? She had nothing to do with F.O.W.L. or S.H.U.S.H. so whatever was going on had to involve Scrooge and Twenty-Two. Beakley. Whatever.

She reached into her pocket to grab her phone and rolled her eyes at the realization that all her pockets had been completely emptied. Great. And she couldn’t see anything in any direction - the room was pitch black. She slid her feet across the floor until hitting walls and determined her prison was about sixteen square feet.

As she hit one of the walls, she noticed the sound was different. Sounded like reinforced glass. Goldie put her hands on the wall and leaned her face as close as possible to see if she could see anything. Her eyesight wasn’t the greatest, but it certainly wasn’t bad for her age.

After a moment of light adjustment, she saw red lights. Small, glowing red lights evenly spaced maybe a hundred feet away from her. There were...a lot of them. With a quick scan of the angles, Goldie realized she wasn’t on the ground floor, so there was a prison underneath her and perhaps a prisoner there, as well. There were likely prisons to each side of her, too, though she couldn’t be sure F.O.W.L. wasn’t spacing prisoners out to make sure no one could talk to each other.

Well, whatever. It’s not like she could be in a worse situation. Goldie stomped her foot on the floor and both walls, hoping to get a response. Maybe even from someone familiar.

Underneath, no one. To the right? Nothing. But after she knocked on her left, she heard some groaning and realized the other prisoners could still be out of it. Seemed like her new friend was waking up, at least.

“Hey,” Goldie said sharply, leaning as close to the left wall as possible. “Get up.”

She heard the other prisoner shuffling around for a moment before smacking into the wall and groaning in pain. Alright, so immediately she could tell this was someone who’d never been locked up before. Great. Who didn’t love trying to work with amateurs?

“Can you hear me?”

“...I can,” they said, their voice muffled a bit.

Goldie thought the voice sounded a bit familiar, but chose not to linger. She had bigger problems. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

There was a pause before the voice responded. “Well, I was at home getting ready for next Christmas when there was a knock on my door-”

“Christmas?!” Goldie screeched, unable to keep her voice down. “What?! Last time I was awake, it was March!”

“Oh, dear, well, it’s April now, as far as I know,” the voice said softly. “I apologize for making you worry, I just spend most of the year getting prepared.”

Goldie blinked rapidly as she took in this information. Somehow it’d been several days and not only was she still alive, she wasn’t hungry or thirsty or tired. Actually, as she thought about it more, her back and her face didn’t hurt like they should’ve after Heron’s attack. She had a lot of questions about that, but so long as she was alive, she needed to focus on any possible way to escape.

Then the rest of what her ‘new friend’ said finally hit her ears and Goldie frowned in realization. Of course. Of freaking course. “...Claus? Is that you?”

There was a slight hesitation to his voice when he responded. “...yes, it is. Um...hello, Miss O’Gilt.”

“Fantastic. Let me guess, none of your special fancy Christmas magic works in here, right?”

“...well, no. Not that I really have m-”

“Do you have any information about why we’re here or are you completely clueless?”

He didn’t react to being interrupted and just sighed. “No, I’m sorry. I have no idea.”

“...so Scrooge is in trouble, then,” Goldie decided, leaning against the wall and putting a thoughtful hand to her chin. “Or he’s about to be.”

“Should we be worried?” Santa asked, unfamiliar with the type of danger they were in.

Goldie scoffed and shook her head, despite him not being able to see. “He’ll be fine. He’s Scrooge McDuck.”

The polar bear hummed quietly for a moment. “That doesn’t mean he’s invincible.”

She glared into the darkness. “Says you.”

“...I’m surprised you’re so confident in him,” Santa said softly. “From what Scrooge said, you two haven’t been on good terms for quite a while.”

Goldie hmphed and wrapped her arms around herself. “What, and you two are?”

“He and I spent this past Christmas together!” Santa said in a way that Goldie distinctly felt was a brag...not that Mr. Nicest Man In The World was capable of bragging. “So I’d say we are, yes.”

“Well, Saint Nick,” Goldie started and turned to lean on her side. “Not that it’s your business, but Scrooge and I are doing just fine. Better than fine. Unless he’s dead, of course.”

“Please don’t joke about that.”

“Who says I’m joking?” Goldie scoffed. “Maybe we’re here ‘cause he’s already lost. Hard to say when I don’t know where I am or what day it is or why I’m being tortured like this.”

“Tortured?”

“I can’t think of any other reason they’d stick me next to you of all people.”

Santa stayed quiet at that, unable to ignore her dig. He wasn’t comfortable with being disliked, but he’d accepted long ago that some people would just never find his Christmas cheer charming. “...I’ll be quiet, if you’d prefer.”

Goldie raised an eyebrow. “You can do whatever you want. I’m just trying to get out of here.”

He responded with a huff and she heard him shuffle around, clearly moving to the other side of his prison box. She followed in kind and moved to the other side of her own, putting the most amount of space between them as possible.

After a minute of leaning, Goldie chose to sigh and slide down onto her butt. She couldn’t see anything, she couldn’t hear anything new, there didn’t seem to be an escape route and there wasn’t even a villain for her to manipulate. She genuinely wasn’t sure how she’d get herself out of this. Waiting for Scrooge and his family to save her sounded like a nightmare, but it could very well be her only shot.

That is, if Scrooge and his family came to save her at all. Sure, Santa said he and Scrooge were square, but that didn’t mean he would notice that the guy went missing. And Goldie often went weeks or even months without so much as a text or email to the old miser, so he’d never notice that she was gone.

She curled up and laid her forehead on her knees. Maybe this was a wake up call that she should learn to communicate better. Or at least communicate more. She texted Sharpie every other week but he was perfectly aware that she could just disappear at any moment. And the only other person who would even think to look for her...well. They hadn’t spoken in a while, either.

Her heart sunk at the realization that not a single person would notice that she’s gone.

[babeiwannabeastar]

regulus was always at the top of his class in potions. he never missed an assignment and was always better than everyone else but during third year, he was having a particulary bad week and screwed up a very important assignment, which he would need another week to re-do. but of course, since everything seemed to be against him that week slughorn got extremelly ill and took a week to recover.

he was substituted by a new potions master who happened to be a very old woman who hated slytherins and would not give regulus another chance to re-do the assignment despite any arguments, promises or past records of his sucess in potions.

after almost an hour post-class which he spent trying to convince the old lady and failing, regulus finally retired to his dormroom where he found mary macdonald, his best friend slash secret passion, in his bed, doing homework. feeling completely unmotivated to complain about the possibility of ink stains in his sheets like the boy normally would, he simply collapsed by her side.

“what's wrong?” she questioned putting her work down. he simply hummed in response. “regulus, what happened?”

“why do you assume something happened?” he pratically whined while taking a place at her lap.

“well, you took an hour to come back from class only to look completely devasted” he scrunched his nose at the comment, did he actually look that bad? “and has yet to complain about my ink stains”

“one would only think you would've know better by now, especially after so many warnings” regulus answered, closing his eyes and hoping that would be enough to end that conversation.

her long fingers ran through his hair and the young black started to feel his heart calm down at each of the girls movements. for a couple of minutes, regulus could not avoid to think that a bad grade didn't seem to matter that much as long as he could lay down with her forever.

“reggie” mary called softly. “what happened to you?”

the tired green-greyish eyes met the worried brown eyes upon his and sighed loudly before explaining the potions situations.

macdonald couldn't help but laugh. “i'm sorry, are we really talking about the sweet lady who's giving potions classes?”

“there isn't anything sweet about her, trust me” he groaned and mary laughed again.

“oh, but she has always been the nicest to me, we are in the same house, did you know?” he did not but he couldn't also understand why this piece of information had any relevance to his situation. “would you like me to talk to her?”

“how would that help?” regulus tiredly asked, wrapping his arms around the girl's waist to make himself more comfortable.

“well, she loves me.” mary stated. “i could easily get you an extention”

his heart fluttered for a moment.

“really? you would do that?” the hope was evidential in his voice but he did not care as mary seemed brigther than the sun in that moment.

the ravenclaw laughed softly and nodded her head.

“i would do anything for you, reggie”

those words would echo through his head for many, many years. it echoed when they were fourteen and had their first kiss and when they were fifteen, running around the castle in secret dates.

but mostly when they were sixteen and his life turned upside down and despite all effords not to, he was thrown into the beggining of a war bringing the love of his life into it with him or when they were seventeen and graduating and it echoed so much it hurt while making promises to keep each other safe. promising to himself to keep her safe.

worst of it all, it still echod when they were both 18 in mary's apartment, soon to be their apartment, engaged and tangled in between the sheets. when they were 18 and in the middle of the first wizarding war. but he didn't want to think about war, not now. not in this moment. not when mary slept so soundly in his arms.

but now was the time. now was when everything was happening. now was when the whole world seemed to be collapsing around them.

now was when pandora's vision confirmed the information regulus feared to have right.

regulus had to get home. he had to meet kreacher. he had to leave the comfort of his love and go straight into death in the hopes the dark lord would be defeated and mary, his dear darling mary, would be safe. that was all that mattered to him.

“you once told me you would do anything for me.” he whispered into her hair. “i hope you know i am doing everything for you.”

regulus ran his hand through her dark locks and kissed the top of her head softly, feeling his love for her so deeply and hoping she could feel it too. hoping she wouldn't forget why he was doing it all.

and as he walked out of that door in the dark of the night and into a even darker cave, he repeated it in his head and in his heart. hoping. praying.

echoing the words a little girl once said.

for you, my darling.

i would do anything for you.

[lovelyirony]

uhh made up fic title: heaven won't hold it against you

but hell absolutely will 

Tony was the worst demon of all time. Of all time. 

He let humans wiggle out of deals like a worm that wasn’t hooked properly, takes pity on those who are having a rough time, and tries to warn people about what their actions are going to be like as they’re on the tipping scales of justice. 

“You are literally the worst demon of all time,” Lucifer says, flicking flames at him. He scrambles to get them off of his suit. 

“Second worst,” Tony argues weakly. “I wear nicer ties than Barry.” 

“Barry can at least drive a millionaire to the edge of a twelve-story building,” he growls. “Who gives a shit about his ties when he can give results?!” 

Tony is silent, not sure how he wants him to answer. 

“Look. We’re sending you down to earth. It’ll remind you of how shitty everyone is and you can get back to torturing people and selling their souls.” 

-

He’s in New York City. 

He’s missed it, all things considered. It’s actually chaotic, fun, and there are so many people. 

So many opportunities as well. People are driven by anger more than usual here; there are way more stressors, the subway system sucks in general, and there are at least four different ways he can ruin someone’s day in two minutes or less. 

Except that Tony can’t do it. 

He cannot ruin people’s days. It sucks. The only people that he can really ruin are the people who are already destined for Hell. He doesn’t like tempting others to go to his side, he knows exactly how bad it is. 

-

On the other end of the spectrum, Rhodey is getting his assignment to tail a demon and do some damage control. 

In New York City. 

He has a love-hate relationship with the city: they’re capable of doing incredible things, and just as quickly you will get someone who would push their grandmother off of a train platform to get a leading role in a stage production. 

But this demon is someone that Rhodey hasn’t really heard about. Which is unusual, because angels usually hear about every demon of note. 

His name, according to Pepper, is Tony. He’s pretty high level which is...odd. They know high level. 

He asks Bruce, the guy who runs kind of runs purgatory. 

(He just doesn’t really like a lot of the big shots and enjoys learning more about people.) 

“Tony’s literally the worst,” Bruce groans. 

Rhodey raises his eyebrows. 

“And why haven’t we heard about him?” 

“He’s funny. I didn’t let you know,” Bruce says with a shrug. 

“So you didn’t let me know about a dangerous demon because he’s funny?” 

“I didn’t say he was dangerous, just that he was the worst,” Bruce says with a shrug. “That term can be used in a lot of different contexts.” 

“What kind of context are you talking about?” 

“Go down and find him, and you’ll see. He has a weird goatee.” 

-

New York City is not what Rhodey remembers, but then again he hadn’t been there since 1982, and that was a whole other world away, nearly. 

Tony the Demon, otherwise known as Tony Stark, lives in the basement of an old woman’s house which is odd. Rhodey checks on the old woman only to find her alive and kicking and having tea with Tony. 

He looks...different. 

Well of course he looks different. Demons can’t exactly show off their best assets to humans: the humans would probably die. 

But what surprises him is that they’re eating cookies together and the old woman is telling him about how she used to dance to music with her husband. 

And then they dance. 

They dance, and it’s surprising. 

Tony should be telling her that her husband is never coming back and she’s going to die alone, and he...he isn’t. 

-

There are more instances of it. 

Tony pays for someone’s coffee and holds open doors. He listens to people talk even when it’s complete nonsense, but he listens to them all the same. 

He does puzzles on his days off. 

Tony works in a coffee shop. 

Rhodey’s not sure what kind of long game he’s been attempting to play, but it’s not going to work on him. He’s here for as long as it takes. 

-

Then Tony Stark notices him. 

He doesn’t notice he’s an angel, but he notices his stormy expression and the way that he’s boring holes into the seat across from him at the coffee shop. 

(Look, their peppermint mocha is literally the only good one Rhodey’s had for years, and so he’s not going to go anywhere else.) 

But he usually goes when Tony isn’t there. 

But Tony covered someone’s shift. 

What a fucking angel. 

“You alright today?” Tony asks, his voice softer, eyebrows slightly raised. “Because you kinda look like you want to kill that seat, and I’m not gonna lie to you: we still need that one.” 

Rhodey smiles, shaking his head. 

“Just thinking about work troubles.” 

“Must be some trouble. What can I get for you?” 

“Uh...sixteen ounce peppermint mocha?” 

“Oh my god, you’re peppermint mocha dude?” 

“Why is that important?” Rhodey asks. “Why do you know me?” 

Tony blushes, and it looks...nice. Not evil. That’s weird. Demons don’t usually blush. 

“Uh, just that...my coworker noticed your robot tie. I wanted to see it, but I’m never around when you’re here. But I like your tie today! It’s a good stripe-pattern.” 

He’s being genuinely nice. 

Rhodey knows demons, has heard all the stories from the old-timers. They’re not good at being genuinely nice, ever. The only being they’re ever...respectful of is the Big Guy Upstairs, and even that’s questionable. 

“I’ll...wear it next time,” Rhodey says carefully. “How much do I owe you?” 

“Two-sixteen,” Tony chirps, and he gives him a look. 

“Did you...did you just give me a discount?” 

“Well you seem to be having a rough time, and I had to give you some incentive to show off your tie,” Tony smiles. “Besides, everyone needs something nice every once in a while.” 

Bruce was right: Tony really was the worst demon. 

-

He visits more during Tony’s shifts. He usually works the really early mornings or the really late nights. The shifts that people don’t want, he takes. 

Rhodey sees him a lot. 

“I see you more often than I think I should, honestly,” Tony says with a laugh. “Do you work from home?” 

“I keep my own hours,” Rhodey says with a shrug, “and I like your coffee more than I probably should.” 

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Tony says. 

“Well, you’re an angel for making it,” Rhodey teases, mostly looking to see Tony’s reaction. 

He smiles softly. 

“You really think so?” 

“Yeah. I really do,” Rhodey says, smiling. “You’re the nicest guy I know.” 

“I try my best.” 

“Your best is always good,” he answers. He walks out of the shop, telling him that he’d see him tomorrow. 

As Rhodey exits, he doesn’t see the person watching them across the street. 

-

Hell keeps tabs on their own. 

Even if they don’t like their own. 

And Tony...well. He’s a bit too good. 

[alpineglowx]

I'll Do The Same {Din Djarin x OC} Chapter Eleven: Starlight

pairing: din djarin x female oc

warnings: none, except some fluff!

* * * *

“I was young. Eight, nine, I can’t remember exactly. My parents were killed in an explosion trying to hide me from the droids that invaded our village. I almost died that day; I would have if the Watch hadn’t shown up. I became a foundling that day. I was raised by the Watch, and I was happy to be in their care. They had saved me, after all.

“When I was older I joined the Tribe on Nevarro. It’s where I acquired my armor. Once I swore the Creed, it meant I could never take my helmet off again, or have it removed by another. If it was, I would never be allowed to put it back on again... I would cease to be a true Mandalorian. I was trained to be a warrior growing up, and once I was older I joined the Bounty Hunter’s Guild. It paid well, harnessed my training, and gave me something to do.”

Thell blinked slowly, processing his words.

“That was until I was assigned to kill the kid. I didn’t even know he was a child at the time. I knew as soon as I saw him that I couldn’t let him be taken... there are people out there who are risking everything trying to find him... for what, I’m not exactly sure. I just know that he’s more powerful than I understand... and he’s just a kid.

“I had always thought that all Mandalorians followed the Children of the Watch’s beliefs. I believed that all were taught to hide their faces, because our secrecy is our survival. But Bo-Katan took her’s off like it was nothing. They all did, and they told me they were true Mandalorians. I didn’t know until then that I had been raised by the Watch. Bo said it was a cult that broke off from traditional Mandalorian ways.”

“So... no one’s seen your face since you were a kid?”

He dipped his head. “Yes. When I joined the Tribe, I hid myself. My identity, my name... everything about me became a secret. It had to be that way.”

“For you to survive?”

“Yes.”

“Wasn’t it ever lonely?” Thell asked quietly. “The life of a bounty hunter doesn’t sound too glamorous.”

“It isn’t... and it is lonely. I don’t stop with the jobs. Once I finish one, I move on to the next. It’s always been like that. I don’t have time to sit and settle.”

“Hm... So that’s what you’ve been doing since you were young.”

“Yes. I stay primarily in the Outer Rim. Since the Empire fell, there hasn’t been a shortage of bounties.”

“... Don’t take this the wrong way... but if you know the Watch is a cult, and the other Mandalorians take their helmets off, why don’t you?”

“I was raised under the Watch. It’s the only thing I know.” He turned to face her, slowly. “This is the Way.”

“Well, for what’s worth,” Thell said. “You’re the nicest bounty hunter I’ve ever met.”

He chuckled, just the slightest lift of his shoulders that had Thell smiling back at him. She sat up, clasping her arms around her knees as she hugged them to her chest.

“Do you know a lot of Mando’a?” She asked.

“A bit... why?”

Thell shrugged, glancing back at the fire. “Well... I was wondering if you could teach me some.” When she sensed him looking at her, she glanced back over and tilted her head. “My dad was Mandalorian. I know that doesn’t necessarily make me Mandalorian either, but I want to know some of the language. I haven’t... I haven’t felt like I’ve had my own identity before. I guess I could start somewhere... I think we share that.”

The comment had been a risk, but after seeing how he had been over the past week, Thell didn’t expect him to get angry or storm off. In fact, it wasn’t even her first thought.

Because deep down, it was true. They were both orphans now, even the kid sleeping in his arms. They all had childhoods that were essentially stolen from them, raised in places that protected them, but under the surface, were also performing great harm. Din was a result of indoctrination, and Thell had been a slave to a cruel master. Now, as adults, they were free to choose their own paths.

He nodded anyway. “Alright. Ask away.”

Thell blinked. “Oh... um. What’s hello?”

“Su cuy'gar.”

“Say it again,” Thell asked, and he did. She tried her best at repeating it under her breath, but it only made her feel silly with Din watching her.

“Hey!” She laughed. “It’s not like I’ve ever spoken it fluently. Why don’t you give me an easier one?”

Din sighed and relaxed against the rock, the child still tucked peacefully in his arms. “Beskar'gam... can you guess what that is?”

Thell squinted, twisting her lip. “Something to do with Beskar, I’m assuming.”

“Armor,” Din told her.

And they stayed like that, talking quietly beside the fire under the canopy of stars and darkness. For a moment, it felt like they were the only people in the world, including the kid. Din taught her words, phrases, even a small bout of the history of the language, all that he knew. Their conversation slowly turned to ones of their own personal lives, sharing stories and experiences.

Thell kept finding herself smiling at him, even laughing at his dry humor. It was beginning to show itself more and more, and she had to admit that this was her favorite side of him. She had scooted closer, sitting criss crossed beside him while the kid was wrapped in a bundle of blankets just beside Din.

“And I stole it.”

“Really?” Din seemed appalled.

“Yeah,” Thell nodded, smiling proudly to herself. “Darand had a whole shipment of my favorite fruit come in, for himself of course, but I couldn’t deny sneaking myself a few when no one was looking.”

“I’ve never taken you for a thief.”

Thell rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t call myself one. It was probably just one of the most rebellious things I did back on Bespin.”

Her mind suddenly wandered back to her old home, to the neverending show of clouds and stars that was always overhead. Of nights crying herself to sleep after her mother died, of her fingers being rubbed raw from her chores as Darand’s servant.

He must have noticed that she went quiet because he spoke, just softly.

“Thell.”

She blinked, focusing back on his helmet. “Oh. Sorry...”

“What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He sounded genuinely interested, so Thell straightened. “I want to tell you something, something that happened to me while I lived on Bespin.”

His attention remained fully on her, and in the quiet of their haven on Naboo, Thell felt like he truly cared for her.

“My mom died when I was twelve. At that point, I basically fended for myself in Darand’s mansion. I had a lot of people try to take advantage of me, of my youth, of my immaturity. I was constantly being compared to my mother or being expected to be someone I knew I wasn’t... No one ever really saw me for me. When I was sixteen, I was walking back from the market when I saw a group of my friends. I had known them for a couple of years. We weren’t close or anything, but I was still glad to see them.”

Thell took a deep breath, glancing at the fire.

“Anyways, I went to go talk to them and everything seemed normal for the moment. But... I don’t know why it happened, but they attacked me. I didn’t even have anything on me. No credits, nothing.”

Thell could feel her hands trembling and clasped them together, hoping Din wouldn’t notice.

“They just left me there, in the dust of that alley. They called me names and told me I was useless and kicked me, and I didn’t do anything.... I just let it happen.”

“Why?” Din asked suddenly.

“Because somewhere deep down I felt like they were right,” Thell said, making eye contact with him again. “I felt like because everyone else had been saying those things to me, it must have been true. No one in Darand’s house liked me. No one saw me. I mean, hell, the one guy that I actually liked completely rejected me to my face and walked away like I was nothing!”

Thell leaned back, surprised and suddenly embarrassed by her disclosure. To her relief, Din didn’t seem bothered by it; he barely moved from his position. Taking it as a good sign, and inhaling deeply, Thell continued, lowering her voice.

“My only source of comfort in the world was gone and I didn’t have any else left. I was just a girl in a galaxy that looked at me like I was nothing. That’s why I was so adamant about going with you that night. Because I knew the consequences if I didn’t. I knew I had to speak up for myself. If I didn’t, I could’ve died out there, in the big world. But I always felt safe with you, even when you were standing in the middle of the hallway pointing a blaster at my face.”

To her relief, Din huffed out a laugh. “Not the best of scenarios to feel safe in.”

Thell smirked. “Maybe not. But I came along anyway.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“Really?” Thell perked up.

He dipped his head once. “It’s... nice to have someone to talk to.”

Thell smiled, feeling tears burn at the back of her eyes. “Yeah. Me too.”

“We have that in common, you know.”

“... What?”

“The thing you said... about no one seeing you.”

Thell’s eyebrows twitched, and she scrunched her fingers into her pant leg. “Oh.”

He was still looking back at her, suddenly gently in the firelight. Thell’s heart was full from their conversations and laughter, to his opening up about his own past to chuckling together about old stories. She was immensely grateful, and something about the warmth of the fire and the peace of the field were causing her barriers to fall.

“Thank you for telling me about yourself,” she said quietly. “I know it’s not easy, especially when you don’t normally share it. But thank you anyway.”

He watched her for a long moment before dipping his head softly, and Thell blinked. Taking a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart, she bent forward, clasping her hand gently around his that rested on his leg. She could feel him flinch under her palm, see how rigid he suddenly went under her touch. His hand was warm, large and secure under her hold.

Thell gulped, and her greatest fear came true when he slowly pulled away from her embrace, turning on his side to face the kid. Her hand dangling, Thell could only feel the need to smack herself, curse at how stupid and overly forward she had been. Why should she have expected it anyway, just because they were connecting over their sob stories and growing closer to reciprocate her feelings?

Frustrated with herself, Thell slowly rolled over on her side, dragging the blanket she had brought with her. She couldn’t face the Mandalorian tonight, not directly. So she let her gaze linger to the rocks casted in an orange glow, and to the darkness of the field beyond.

. . . .

“Wake up.”

Blinking steadily, Thell peered directly into the sun. She put up a hand to shield her eyes right as the Mandalorian moved in front of it, casting her in shadow. His hand was on his hip, one arm holding Grogu. He peered down at her curiously, cocking his head and looking back with dark, endearing eyes.

Thell suddenly remembered the night before, the awkward moment when he had pulled his hand out of her’s. If Din remembered too, he didn’t say anything.

Instead, he bent down, offering her a hand to help her stand.

“We’re going into town.”

Thell blinked, gathering her things from the ground. “Town? I thought we didn’t want to make ourselves known.”

“Not particularly,” Din said. “But we’re low on food. We’ll stay low profile.”

The village in Naboo that Din dragged her to was exquisite. Flowers and garlands of every color hung from pots or strung across archways. Ancient buildings soared above her view, the rounded green tops of settlements reflecting in the sun. Gardens with fountains and shining columns dotted the landscape, causing the air to have a sweet aroma. The corridors they walked through were not crowded, and the only inhabitants Thell saw were local humans called the Naboo. She couldn’t help but admire the elegant, flowing robes and dresses they wore, the ornate styles in which their hair was done.

But Din practically dragged her along, keeping her close as the kid hid in a satchel on his hip. Thell herself had worn a cloak, half covering her face. As for Din, there was only so much that could be done to hide the Mandalorian, so he stuck to sticking out in the crowd.

However, to her greatest relief, no one seemed to be bothered by them. In fact, they were more than friendly to the both of them, even the children offering them garlands of flowers as they entered the city.

But Din was meticulous, only wanting to spend as much time in the city as needed. Thell, on the other hand, wandered past vendors with crafts of things she had never seen, food she had never smelled or tasted.

And music.

The sound caught her ears immediately as Din was paying for a package of fruit. Thell turned, her ears perking up at the glorious sound. She had just taken a step forward when she felt Din’s hand on her elbow, holding her back.

“What is it?”

She looked over her shoulder, smiling widely at him. “Music. Don’t you hear it?”

“I do.”

She tugged at his arm. “Let’s go listen to it.”

“We need to go soon. It’s getting dark.”

Thell shrugged. “I know. But you were the one who said we needed a break. What’s a little pitstop?” When he didn’t move, Thell stuck out her bottom lip. “It’ll only be for a minute, and I promise I won’t drag you away again.”

When he finally nodded, Thell nearly shrieked in excitement as they followed the sound. She had heard music played on Bespin before, but only in moderation, and it had never sounded this beautiful.

They passed through corridors and dim hallways to an arched opening. It let them out onto a small balcony that overlooked a luxurious garden, surely owned by a wealthy family in the city. Thell could only tilt her head back and breath in the sweat air as she relaxed against the railing. The garden was speckled with wild flowers and trees of all varieties, twisting cobblestones paths between streams and pools that glittered like diamonds in the sunlight. Out in the distance, the sun was setting beyond the hills, casting the clouds in orange and pink glows. The railing was lined with vines that twisted around the architecture, spattering the balcony with purple flowers. Just beyond an archway in the garden Thell could spot the group of musicians playing, all holding different, beautiful instruments. A small crowd sat with their back to Thell and Din, and if Thell focused enough, it felt as if they were playing for just them.

She sensed Din moving closer, coming to rest his arms against the railing beside her. Grogu was at her feet, murmuring softly until she bent down to pick him up.

“See that, buddy?” She whispered, pointing in the direction of the musicians. “That’s a band. They’re playing music on instruments. Have you heard music before?”

He was babbling close to her ear, his eyes focused on the band. At a certain high note, his eyes widened and his ears pinned back, and Thell couldn’t help the giggle that rose in her throat. When the music settled again, Thell tucked Grogu into her arms, holding him as she began to slowly rock back and forth on her heels and hummed. Grogu seemed to enjoy it, eyes flickering to her when she pulled away from the railing, humming to the same tune as the musicians and spinning.

Grogu cooed happily, and Thell pressed her forehead to his before kissing his head. She giggled again, holding the baby in her arms and spinning while the music continued.

When she finally stopped spinning, and the music stopped, her hair was frayed and sticking to her face. But Din was looking at her, one arm resting casually against the railing and one leg kicked back. He was admiring her, not even bothering to look away when Thell paused, breathing heavily.

“Do you dance?” She asked, breathless.

She hadn’t known what came over her, except that Grogu was sliding down her arms as Din loomed over her, looking down at her through the helmet while starlight was beginning to glimmer on the Beskar.

“We have to get back. It’s late.”

Her heart sank, but she tried not to show it. “Okay.”

With one last glance at the garden, Thell turned and followed after the Mandalorian.

They returned to the ship a while later, but Thell opted to sleep outside again, under the canopy of starlight. Grogu stayed close by, choosing to sleep beside her as she settled her blanket on the ground. Din prowled the surrounding area, his blaster at his side, before coming up to Thell and Grogu. He peered down at the kid, cocking his head.

“Night, kid,” he said lowly, to which Grogu murmured softly.

Thell smiled down at the kid before glancing back at Din and asking, “How many days before we leave?”

“Two,” he said, and Thell nodded.

“It’s been nice.”

“It has.”

The silence turned to being rather uncomfortable, so Thell shifted, rocking on one knee.

“Well... I’m just going to get some water. Goodnight, Din.”

His voice was soft. “Goodnight.”

She had just returned to her makeshift bed on the ground beside Grogu, canteen in hand, when an object on her pillow caught her attention. Bending down, Thell gingerly picked up the item, rolling it over in her hand. It was one of the purple flowers from the balcony, the one that overlooked the musicians and where she had danced with Grogu. The one where she had desperately wanted to ask Din, too, as well.

“Din, did you-“

She went to look at the Mandalorian, but he was already sleeping on the other side of the fire, arms crossed over her chest. Thell let her eyes wander for a moment before settling down next to Grogu, letting her fingers brush over the petals as she drifted off.

[roragillenkerk]

( KRISTINE FROSETH, TWENTY FIVE, CIS WOMAN, SHE/HER ). AURORA GILLENKERK has been living in Clayton, Georgia for FIFTEEN YEARS. They are an ARMS DEALER for THE IRON COFFINS currently working as WAITRESS at MAMA’S KITCHEN. They are known to be STUBBORN & DEFENSIVE, but also known to be MOTHERLY & LOYAL. I hope you are enjoying their time in Clayton, there is no place quite like home. ( Sarah, 24, EST, she/her. ).

Trigger warning for mentions of death, guns, murder, and pregnancy 

Aurora Gillenkirk had never came from a life of luxury. She had never known what it felt like to have a complete family, a comma in her bank account, or to not be constantly struggling with something. Being the result of a teen pregnancy, her mother had her at the tender age of sixteen. Her father wanted nothing to do with her or her daughter, so she was left being raised by a single parent. Aurora’s grandmother had offered to help raise her grandchild, not wanting to see her own daughter struggle with having a baby. But, she was far too stubborn and didn’t feel the need to have any assistance. The woman had gotten into this situation and she would face the challenges that would come with it. So, she would drop out of high school and make her way outside of Clayton. She’d move a few hours away in an attempt at a fresh start and to raise her child.

While being away from Clayton, Aurora and her mother struggled….hard. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for them to constantly get eviction notices, having little to no time to pack up what few belongings they had and scramble to find someplace to crash. Sometimes it was at a co-worker’s house, the local shelter, or inside the beater car that they owned. Either way, the blonde had learned to have many different meanings to the word ‘home’. Regardless of her chaotic upbringing, she was always thankful. Sure, she never had the newest clothes, the best toys to play with, or the nicest living situation. But, she knew that she had a mother that always loved, cared, and provided her despite the odds that were stacked against them.

Eventually, her mother found herself missing her hometown and having a close relationship with her own mom so she’d return to Clayton after years of being away. Now that she was back in town, she would end up rekindling many of her past relationships. This would include a fling she had back during her early, post high school days. He was a bad boy, destined for no good and had family ties to the Iron Coffins, being a member himself. They didn’t date for long, quickly losing connection with one another when she moved away. Several years passed by and they picked up where they had left off. This time though, their feelings towards one another would only intensify. The couple would end up getting engaged and married less than a year of Aurora’s mom being back in town. Even though it seemed quick, they were serious about starting a life with one another. For the first time in her young life, the girl had gotten something she had been yearning for; a person to call a father.

The older that the girl got, the more closer she grew to her step father. They seemed to instantly clicked and he considered her his own child, despite not being blood related. He was her rock and the one person that she felt like she could go for anything. It seemed like things were actually looking up for a change. Her family confined to struggle a bit here and there with finances and other things but overall, she couldn’t complain too much.

When Aurora was sixteen years old, her step father would get murdered. The young girl was working a closing shift at the family diner when somebody had attempted to rob the place. Her father happened to have stopped over and dropped by to say hello when the situation happened. Shots were fired towards the two of them when Aurora refused to give the man any money. She managed to escape the scene with no injuries, her father using himself as a human shield to protect his little girl. He died before EMT’s could show up. 

This would break her, but the pieces of her heart would get picked up by a boy. One that she would meet shortly after her father’s death while at some random party. She was sneaking out and acting out as a way to try and cope with all of her feelings. Drinking, smoking, running from the cops, the whole nine yards. Sparks flew and she fell hard for him. Aurora had never felt this kind of attraction to anybody before. He was there for her during such a difficult time in her life. He was her rock and her first love. 

Flash forward a few more months and Aurora suddenly falls ill. Her symptoms are fatigue, morning sickness, and just feeling...off. She would steal a pregnancy test from the local grocery store and take it in the bathroom. Two minutes later....her life would change forever. Aurora knew that eventually wanted to become a mom, but not at such a young age. Her mom had urged her to wait to have her own children, not wanting to see her daughter struggling trying to support another life. But, it happened. Feeling so overjoyed with the news, Aurora’s boyfriend would become her fiancé after he proposed to her. When she was seven months pregnant, they’d have a small, court house wedding followed by a reception at Lucky’s. Two months later, she would give birth to a beautiful baby girl named Serenity Rose. 

Everything seemed so perfect, like she was living in a fairytale. But, it was only sweet for so long. When their daughter was around the age of four, Aurora would find out that her husband had been cheating on her for several months now with another girl. She found text messages and calls on his phone. That night, in a frantic state, she bagged all of his belongings in a garbage bag and threw it at the end of the street and told him to get lost. It has been over four years now and she hasn’t seen him since. Being a single mother wasn’t anything she thought would imagine for herself, but she couldn’t stay with a man who lied to her.  

Aurora wasn’t sure what she wanted to do after High School. She graduated, barely, and that was quite the accomplishment in itself. College didn’t seem part of her future. She didn’t have the funds, drive, or grades to be successful in that kind of environment. She has always loved Clayton so perhaps staying there would make the most sense. She was becoming at an age where she was expressing great interest in becoming apart of the MC. She understood how dangerous it was and the risks that came with it, but she felt drawn to it. She knew she wanted to become a member and she was determined to put in the blood, sweat, and tears to be one.

She would become a prospect at the age of 19 and begin her journey into the MC. Her mother didn’t want her to go through it, not wanting to see her baby girl engulfed in a world like that. But, she reassured her that she was old to make her own decisions and this is what she wanted. There were times that perhaps she wasn’t 100% sure she’d become a full member. But, she was hell bent on proving herself worthy. Rora got patched in as a full member at 21 and would slowly begin to climb her way up the ranks within the club, her goal becoming an Arms Dealer. Her step father had been a former Arms Dealer, so she had gotten some previous experience from him. She’d train under a fellow Arms dealer until she was 24, officially working on her own. It was not easy, but she did it. She earned her damn patches and position. In addition to working with the Iron Coffins, she is continuing to work at Mama’s Kitchen as a waitress and raise her daughter Serenity by herself.