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little-pondhead · 1 month

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The Folly of Men -

Chapter 3: #228B22

AO3 - MASTERPOST

[GENERAL TW: Swearing, lukewarm violence, lots of POV changes, and mild body horror.]

Damian was still being watched. The summer storm had well and passed, but the eyes he felt on the back of his neck were persistent, following him no matter where he went. He drove himself mad, tearing his room and the rest of Wayne Manor apart for bugs, asked Oracle to scan the city while he patrolled, and even pulled in a favor with some magic users to ensure he wasn't being haunted. Nothing! It was concerning his family, but Damian didn't care. He kept himself surrounded by others at all times whenever he left the house. Something was out there, ready for him to be truly alone. He didn't want to give them the opportunity.

The day came when he was assigned to patrol with Orphan since Batman was with the League but was separated due to the Riddler's schemes. They had solved the riddle already, thankfully, but Damian was intercepted while on his way to their meet-up point.

Pru, a former League assassin, caught his attention from one of Gotham's rooftops, and he swung down to meet her.

“Assassin,” was his only greeting. Damian was not a fool. No matter what had happened between Pru and Drake, she was still dangerous. He drew his sword easily and pointed it at her neck, reminding her that he was still a threat as well.

Pru didn’t look too happy to see him either. “Don’t give me that shit, Robin,” she snarled. “I’m just here to pass on a message.”

“I believe you are loyal to my brother, not me,” Robin hissed. “Why should I believe anything that comes out of your mouth?”

“Because it’s important!” Pru looked frustrated. “Eth Alth'eban is on lockdown, and I barely managed to get out. I can’t get in touch with Red Robin; every time I try, something happens and messages are re-routed or destroyed. Lightning strikes on the communication towers in Antarctica, the encrypted server that runs through Bolivia crashed from a fucking hurricane, even the goddamn carrier pigeon got drawn off course from high winds in Brazil! Do you have any idea how erratic the past two weeks have been? It’s like something is out to get me!”

“So why come to me? You’re in Gotham now.” He pointed out.

Pru threw her hands up, exasperated. “Because Nightwing told me Red Robin is out of the country to help with flooding in Qatar! Apparently, there’s a fucking tropical storm hitting it for the first time ever! You’re the one who really needs to hear this, anyway, so I gave up and found you. It seems Gotham won’t let me leave until I say my piece.”

Damian considered the situation. Pru really did look like she’d been through hell and back. She looked furious at something, and her clothes were still damp from rain. Except it hadn’t rained in Gotham for a while. Not since…the summer storm. The back of his neck tingled again, and he glanced around. Clouds were closing in. Fuck.

He sheathed his sword. Pieces from this puzzle were starting to fall into place, but he needed more information. “Say what you must,” he nodded to Pru while tapping his comms to alert Oracle to the conversation. He also activated his emergency tracker, hoping Orphan or Nightwing would find him in time. Their conversation would end quickly once the woman relayed her message, and Damian wasn't about to force Pru to stay because he was nervous about being alone.

“Finally,” Pru sighed and sat heavily on the rooftop, not minding the glass that dug into her hands and thighs. “Your grandfather has a new Heir.”

Damian blinked, pausing. He wasn’t quite expecting that.

“I only knew about this early because they killed my inside man in the medical department. I got a hold of his notes, and it looks like they were in the middle of treating an unknown entity, and the files all referred to it as the ‘Demon's Heir.’ I'm not Red, so I can't be sure, but the records don't start in a way that would suggest they made a test tube baby or another clone."

"And it is not my cousin they are treating? Perhaps grandfather has changed his mind and declared Mara his ideal Heir."

Pru stared at Gotham's roiling clouds, looking frustrated. She didn't seem to notice anything strange about them. "No. Mara al Ghul was in Kuwait until recently. She and the others from the Demon's Fist were doing something on orders from Mother Soul. It's above my pay grade, so I can't tell you much more than that other than they left suddenly without finishing their business. I'll take a guess that Mother Soul will be pissed about that. I do know that the medical records were updated two days ago to reflect a stab wound to the entity's chest. Their name was also updated: Phantom."

Damian considered Pru's words. He turned the clues over in his mind like stones, carefully examining anything that might hint at deceit. She was telling the truth, unfortunately. "So someone named Phantom has claimed the role of Demon's Heir, and my cousin most likely heard this news first and abandoned her post to attack the usurper," he summarized. "And my grandfather has closed off his city for one reason or another, presumably to either train or protect Phantom. Am I correct?"

Pru nodded. "That's pretty much it, birdie. Whatcha gonna do about it?"

He ignored the jab. "I will consider my options," he said stiffly. "Now that you've served your purpose, leave Gotham immediately." Orphan, where are you?

The former assassin laughed and hauled herself to her feet, brushing off the glass and dirt that stuck to her clothes. "I'll consider it. I've been running around for weeks; Red Robin won't mind if I crash at his, will he?"

"He will."

"Tough shit. See you around!" Pru jumped off the rooftop and into the alley below, not giving a shit about potential muggers as she waltzed into the night.

He was alone.

Damian watched her go before tapping his comms again. “Did you hear everything?” He asked Oracle, but no reply came except static. He expected this but cursed anyway. Thunder started to rumble overhead; he felt it deep in his bones. Whispers of electricity started crawling along the rooftop, following wires and coming dangerously close to touching him. He was forced to back into a corner on the rooftop and hoped his rubber-insulated boots were enough to prevent a shock. The feeling from earlier was stronger than ever. Someone was watching him. They knew he was finally alone. Obviously, Orphan nor Nightwing would get there in time, so Damian would have to deal with this himself.

He turned in a circle, straining his eyes to see through the cloud cover. He still couldn’t pinpoint their location, but he knew they were up there. “Reveal yourself!” He barked, hand on his weapon.

A moment passed. The air pressure changed, making his ears pop uncomfortably. His eyes were trained on the sky as rain started to fall. The clouds above the city gathered wildly, swirling together and reaching down toward him. The bolts of electricity that crawled over the rooftop raced together and rose up to meet it, becoming large bolts of lightning that could do real harm to the city if even one got loose. He stepped back into the corner even further, watching the mass of storm clouds finally get low enough to spread out across the building like a thick fog, revealing a figure in the vague shape of a man.

Great. Of course, it was something magical. He'd be having words with the magic users from earlier.

The man wasn’t touching the ground. In fact, Damian could hardly make out his legs as his broad form blurred from the wind, snatching bits of his green body away. Smaller rain clouds encircled his waist like a belt, and his hair looked more like jagged horns sitting against his brow. While he wore a well-loved weather vest and thick gloves, the rain around them would have soaked the man through by now. But he was perfectly dry. Damian was a little envious.

The man was smiling at him, but not the kind of smile that welcomed him into the conversation. No, this man of clouds and lightning was holding himself like someone was forcing him to be there. His red eyes looked like a swirling red cyclone, and his overall air was disinterested and tired.

Damian flinched as the man opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out except drawn-out screeches and clicks. It sounded like thunder was crashing right next to his ear or a tree getting struck by lightning. He didn't like it. The man frowned, realizing Damian couldn't understand him, and cleared his throat to try again.

“Hello, little Robin,” the man eventually tried, this time in Arabic. His voice was…strange. It sounded like he was gasping with every word, and the thundering sound was still there, muted and layered under the greeting. "I'm sorry, I forgot the people of this world are not natural speakers of the Realm's language."

“I am not little,” Damian snarled, likewise in Arabic.

“Of course not,” the man waved his hand. “A ghost’s size does not determine their power. I greet you nonetheless, little Robin.”

Damian had a feeling that speaking with this man was going to be infuriating. “Who are you?” He demanded. “And why are you in Gotham City?”

“You may call me the Navigator,” the man bowed a little, stiff in his back like he wasn’t used to the action. The Navigator, it seemed, was used to being in power. But by bowing to Damian, he showed his reluctant submission right off the bat, hoping to appease him and have a civil conversation. “And I believe you have a hunch as to why I’m here. You noticed me pretty quickly, after all.”

“So you are the one who’s been stalking me.”

“In plainer terms, yes.”

“I presume you’re the one who’s been messing with Pru as well?”

“You would presume correctly,” The Navigator's face scrunched and swirled like he was making a face of disgust. “I would rather have sent my sylphs to do it, but the Scepter insisted I do this part myself.”

More new information. If Damian remembered, sylphs were elemental wind spirits. So the Navigator was either a spirit himself or someone who could control them. But he said ‘ghost’ earlier. How did that fit in? He didn't look like the undead Damian knew of.

And ‘the Scepter’ was said with an inflection that suggested it was a name. Scepters were symbols of royalty, but Damian didn’t know anyone who actually used one or went by that name. It was no title he’d ever heard of. Whoever they were, they had to be more powerful than the Navigator if they had truly sent him after Robin.

“Aye, I can hear your brain working from here, little Robin.” The Navigator rolled his eyes, stretching the tiny cyclones. “You three are so similar that I’ll never find peace.”

“I don’t quite follow. State your business quickly; I’m losing my patience.”

The Navigator waved his hand, summoning a tablet out of nowhere. He tapped on it a few times clumsily, like he wasn't used to holding it, and then tossed it to Damian. The boy caught it easily and examined the thing. It looked like a normal tablet, similar to the ones Drake made and sold. It had a shield logo stamped on the back with Egyptian hieroglyphs engraved around the edge. It was warm to the touch, and Damian felt a little tingle as he turned it over in his hands. This was filled with magic.

The screen was made from something other than normal glass, that much he could tell as he scrolled away, trying his best to absorb the information quickly while keeping an eye on the stranger. It was a contract, he realized. The contract had been written on papyrus and then scanned in digitally. Half of it was written in a language he recognized but couldn't read. The other half contained details on limitations for the Navigator and instructions he was to follow regarding 'ghostlings,' 'The Guardian,' and...Damian Thomas al Ghul-Wayne.

Damian paled beneath the mask. His full name was in this contract. This was about him. The magical being before him knew who he was. He sped through the pages faster, frantically looking for answers.

...And as stated previously, the Navigator, Ancient of Storms, will grant Damian Thomas al Ghul-Wayne his blessing. This blessing will last the entirety of Damian's natural life until death returns him to the Realms. Upon completing the blessing, the Navigator will dispatch one guard to watch over Damian until the Scepter returns* but will not interfere with him personally.

During this period, the Guardian will fulfill the contract between the Gardener, Ancient of Growth, and one Ra's al Ghul. *The Scepter will enter The Guardian's time loop, and therefore, the Navigator may return to the Realms once the time loop is closed again. The runaway ghostlings will be promptly returned to their Lairs and Haunts in the correct dimensions.

As one last note, the Navigator will also refrain from fucking around with The Sword and The Shield unless he wants to find out what they can do. (I'm serious, too. The Shadow is busy, but I'll still find out if you try something, and I will kick your ass with no hesitation. The other two will be more than willing to punt your ass into Soup Time, as well.)

Upon completing this assignment, I release you from your bind, Ancient of Storms. Return to your Lair and rest with your sylphs. Thank you for your service.

Upon signing, all parties agree to abide by this contract until its terms are met. May the End take our souls if it is ever broken.

The Navigator, Ancient of Storms

Jasmine Nightingale, the Guardian's Scepter

At the bottom, under the signatures, Damian spotted a smaller note addressed to him.

Damian al Ghul, I look forward to our first meeting. Don't forget to bring your sword!

"You," he breathed heavily, glancing up at the mass of clouds. "Explain. What on earth is this?"

The Navigator cocked his head a little too far to the left. "I thought it was pretty self-explanatory," he said in a bored tone. "I was essentially sent on a ravenger hunt to find you and some escaped ghostlings. You shall receive my blessing whether I like it or not, and then I'll leave you to return to my Lair. Hopefully, I'll never have to grace these rotten clouds again!"

"It's 'scavenger hunt.'"

"Huh?"

"Never mind. You are useless at explaining. What is this 'Ancient of Storms' title you have? What are these Realms this contract speaks of? Why must you give me a blessing?"

"Ughhh," the Navigator rolled in the air, groaning. "I'm the embodiment of storms, isn't that obvious? I'd rather deal with Plasmius now than talk with a naive ghostling like you. What kind of ghostling speaks like this anyway? It's rude! I've been practicing my manners; the least you can do is humor me. At least Phantom can figure shit out on his own; I don't have to explain anything to him."

"Phantom?" The name caught Damian's attention. "You know Phantom? Who is he? What does he want with my grandfather?"

"Dunno, little Robin. That's between the Scepter and the Gardener. They had a contract in place decades before your grandfather was even born. And since I'm not allowed near Phantom for a while, all I know is that he's been handed over to Ra's al Ghul for a chance at recovery. He was involved in an incident recently. I don't know the details, but he's hurt so badly it's turning the Realms upside down. That's why I was sent away; I thrive off chaos."

"So, again, you are useless," Damian snarled. He turned away, which, in hindsight, was a stupid move, but he was so angry at the lack of answers that he didn't care. He buried himself back into the tablet, scanning through the contract again, looking for anything useful. Everything seemed so organized, yet the information he wanted felt just out of reach.

He vaguely heard the Navigator mutter in surprise. Something about freaky time visions being too accurate before a blinding white hot pain spread across his body. He dropped the tablet, falling to his knees. It felt like lightning was crawling under his skin, burning him from the inside out. He was distantly aware that he was screaming but didn't know how to stop it. Then the pain was gone in the next instant, and he was left collapsed on the roof, eyes screwed shut as shudders racked his body. He smelled burning flesh. A misty touch brushed away his damp bangs, cooling his brow.

"Yup, I'm pretty sure he's still alive," the Navigator murmured. "Well done, little Robin. Perhaps the Scepter knew what she was talking about when she said you could house my power. Either way, I've said my piece. The rest is up to you. Goodbye, and I hope to never see you again. Feel free to pass on those ghost rabies to the Gardener if you ever see him, though."

And with a rumble of thunder, the presence of the spirit disappeared, taking with him the gentle rain and green storm clouds. Damian lay on that roof for what felt like ages, staring into nothing and dazed from the pain. Nightwing eventually found him, however, with Orphan not far behind.

"Baby Bat!" His elder brother cried, sliding to a stop beside him and gathering Damian in his arms. Cass hovered next to them, unsure of what to do.

"Baba," he croaked in return. "The tablet..."

"Don't worry about that," Nightwing pushed his bangs back, just like the Navigator had. "Are you okay? You're shaking; Oracle lost contact with you over an hour ago and you never showed up to the rendezvous spot. What happened?"

Damian tried to tell him. A being made of storms came by, looking for me by name. He wanted to say. He cut off my comms and shared a contract with me. Then he struck me with lightning and left. We need to bring the tablet back to the Cave for analysis.

But his throat was too dry, and Damian's mind was in too much pain to form the words. As he curled up in Nightwing's arms, all he could mumble was the word 'baba' again and drop his head to the side. Nightwing cursed, instructed Orphan to grab the tablet, and swiftly made the trip back to the Cave with a sense of urgency. Damian groaned the whole way. His body was tender, and every jostle sent tiny shocks through his nerves.

He must have passed out at some point because he remembered skirting around Crime Alley one moment and Alfred checking his vitals the next. The butler gave him a gentle look and dabbed his forehead with a cool cloth. "Where's-" he tried to ask.

"Quiet, Master Damian. Master Dick will be here in a moment." Alfred soothed. Damian dropped it and settled back into the medical bed. When had he taken his clothes off? How long was he out?

A few minutes later, his siblings got the message that he'd awoken and stormed the med bay. "Baby Bat!" Cried Dick, sliding into the room and bolting to Damian's side. "Are you okay? Do you remember us?"

"Yes, baba." Damian croaked. Alfred held a glass of water to his lips, and he sipped carefully to soothe the burn in his throat.

"Dickie told me you got one hell of a shock," Jason, the second eldest, stood in the doorway, arms crossed and staring at them. Cass hung from his side, overwhelmed with anxiety. Steph was shuffling an exhausted Duke into one of the other medical beds, simply so the boy could feel included but still get some rest.

"I did," Damian confessed. Dick gripped his hand tightly, helping him sit up better. "I've been feeling a presence stalk me over the past few weeks, and tonight, I was finally confronted when Cain and I were separated." He left out the part with Pru for now but relayed everything the Navigator had told him, including the details he'd seen on the contract.

Everyone stayed silent as he spoke, but Dick looked like he was ready to bite someone by the end of the story.

"I'm calling everyone back to the Cave," he decided. "This is a Code Addams."

Jason shook his head immediately. "I'm all for punching storm cryptids," he said. "But you know this doesn't fall under Bruce's emergency plans."

"He's right, Dick," Steph frowned. She sat on the other side of Damian's bed, playing with his fingers lightly, and he didn't have the energy to move her. "We can put out a warning, but this sounds like League business to me. Most of us won't really be any help when it comes to al Ghul family drama."

"It's not 'drama,' Brown. Grandfather has taken a new, unknown Heir that has connections to several powerful entities if I'm not mistaken."

Steph nodded. "Yeah! Drama! And if that freaky storm demon shows up again, then we're even less equipped to deal with it. B's not even here right now to help, so we're on our own for this one."

"I'll even send Babs a copy of the contract; she'll probably be able to find something we can't." Jason started tapping away at his phone with one hand, updating the BatKids group chat on the situation and unloading the work onto Barbara.

Dick looked devastated. "But-"

"Hey, Dami?" Duke groaned, cutting everyone off. He was tangled in the thin sheets of the bed now, squinting at the youngest Wayne like he was staring at the sun. "I was kind of half-listening, but you said something about the lightning strike being a blessing, right?"

"Correct."

"Okay, um. Are you aware you glow now? Well, glow more than you used to?"

"...I was not aware. What do you see?"

Duke shuffled and threw an arm over his eyes. The lights of the med bay were giving him a migraine, but he refused to leave now. "You used to just look like a lamp. Now, you look like a bolt of lightning," he said. "There's electricity following your nerves. And your eyes are glowing green—just like Jason's when he's mad. Whatever you got hit with, it's definitely doing something to your body. I just don't know what."

Everyone paused at that.

"Well shit," Jason eventually broke the silence, bringing Cass even closer like a teddy bear. "Looks like we should get a hold of Talia and Bruce, at minimum. Demon Brat, you should probably go to Eth Alth'eban if you want answers."

Damian thumped his head against his thin pillow. "Fuck."

"Potty mouth!"

Danny was starting to get tired of waking up sore.

At least he recognized the room. It was the same one as before and actually decorated like a patient's room, not an underground bunker with his own blood splattered on the walls. He groaned, trying to shift his body. How much was he missing? His lungs were back, obviously. They felt raw in his chest. His vocal chords were also half-baked, but speaking wasn't really an issue right now.

What mattered was his pounding headache and the fire beneath his skin. He had started to sweat in his sleep, which is something he'd never done ever since he had died. Danny tried to glance down at this chest. (Had someone slipped his bones back into place?) The bandages were professional work but pulled away easily when he tugged on them. He hissed as they caught on fresh scabs and drew tiny amounts of blood.

His torso was a fucking mess. Danny was underground for ages, he knew. The GIW treated him like an immortal lab rat by tearing open his body every day to poke around and take samples. It was a miracle they didn't find his broken core, which was hidden deep behind his heart.

The cuts on his torso were being held together by surgical staples; no doubt any stitches or glue dissolved when in contact with his blood. His skin was flushed, puckered, and oozed green. The stab wound was fresher and looked nastier than what Lunch Lady could cook up. It was probably infected. He most likely would have scars even as a ghost. Frostbite once told him that wounds to the soul were the hardest to heal, and Danny didn't see himself getting over this anytime soon.

He laid his head back, staring at the smooth ceiling. A whine built in his throat. Why did everything have to hurt? He just wanted to go home.

But where was home?

His home was gone.

He had nothing to return to.

His parents pretty much disowned him the moment they sold him to the GIW.

The whine turned into a quiet sob, and he let himself sit there and shake. All he had ever done was try to be a good son to his parents, a good friend to Sam and Tucker, and a good brother to Dani and Jazz. Why did it have to be up to him to save others? Sure, it was kind of fun, but the stress of protecting both humans and ghosts got to Danny fast. The others didn't understand. No one understood. And now they never will because Danny was gone and had no home.

And there was that heavy pain again. His core became impossibly cold, uncomfortable against his human heart. It was pulling at his skin and at his bones. He gasped and cried, balling up the bandages in his fist. Was his chest caving in? His core felt like it was trying to turn him inside out and tear him apart.

Why was no one there to help him? Why wasn't he good enough to be saved? Was it because he couldn't save that little girl? Were his failures finally catching up to him? He'll do better, he promises...

Desiree must have heard his silent pleas. The door to his room opened, and a single man entered. It took a moment to recognize him through his tears, but Danny eventually saw that he was the same man who had soothed him to sleep previously.

"Ra's al Ghul," Danny managed. The man nodded to him, coming closer to stare at Danny while he writhed on the bed.

"You are having another panic attack."

"C-can't-"

"The doctors say you have lungs once more. Use them."

"It hurts-"

"Then let it hurt," Ra's didn't look away from Danny. He was cold but not disgusted. He expected Danny to be strong enough to handle this himself. "You are my Heir now; either embrace the pain or let go of what torments you. Become stronger."

"I can't!" Danny sobbed. His shoulders shook with the effort it took to speak. "They'll come back-"

Ra's firmly said, "They shall not."

"You don't know that! I'll be cut up again!"

"You are not from this world, Phantom. Whatever torments you cannot follow."

The words slowly sunk into his brain. The weight was lifted off his chest for a moment. Another world? He wasn't in his home dimension? The GIW didn't exist here? His parents weren't waiting around the corner with a bone saw and handcuffs?

That was great, but that also meant he truly was alone now.

There was no way for him to find his way back, was there?

The pressure from his core lessened, and his body stopped trying to eat itself. His chest expanded again, allowing him to breathe properly through choked sobs and broken groans. He clenched his teeth, trying to stop the tears. He really was useless.

"You are not useless, Phantom." Ra's had a hard light in his eyes. "As mentioned before, you are an al Ghul now, one of my grandsons, no matter what you were previously. You are very valuable to the League now, and I refuse to let you go."

Danny sniffed. "I can't offer you much," he said. "I remember that Undergrowth promised you power and knowledge, but I'm practically a high school dropout, and I'm so weak I can barely lift my head."

"So you shall regain your strength. I have lived a long time, grandson, and I shall live even longer. Your recovery will be swift when compared to the erosion of time."

"Mr. al Ghul..." Danny said defeatedly. His throat felt thick from all the crying. "I couldn't even keep my town safe. All I'm good for is killing kings and pissing people off. I don't want to bring you that kind of shame."

Ra did not show any signs of his satisfaction with Danny's words, but Danny could taste it in the air. "So you were a warrior, yes?"

"I-uh, sort of? I'm a ghost, and I died two years ago. Ghosts fight for every reason and no reason. I kinda had to learn on my feet or risk getting Ended."

"A warrior who cannot die. A man who has the will to act." Ra's appraised him like a prized cow. "Yes, I shall be able to use you, child. The al Ghul legacy shall never die out if you become the Demon's Head. Phantom al Ghul is a...fitting name, I suppose."

Danny wrinkled his nose. "I don't know what half of that means, but okay. And my name isn't really Phantom; that's just my title and hero name. My real name is Danny."

"Then, Daniel-"

"Danny!"

"Daniel, now that your tears have stopped, let me call for refreshments and fresh bandages. We must discuss the Gardener's contract and your usefulness in great detail."

Danny sighed. He was calmer, but now he had to do an Ancient's magic paperwork? He'd rather let his core swallow him whole.

At least someone needed him again.

The group followed Jazz’s decision without a second thought and stepped through the giant portal alongside her. Luckily, it led right to the edge of the In-Between, where Clockwork and a few others resided in their individual spaces. Jazz yelped as she realized there was no solid surface to land on and flipped around in the air uncontrollably. Sam and Tucker had the same fate. All of them kind of bobbed around like ducks in the water before Danielle sighed, gathered them all up with some rope from Tucker’s pack, and hauled them along in the vague direction of Clockwork’s tower.

For a space called Long Now, it didn't take very long to reach the tower, even with Dani hauling along three passengers. Everyone was pretty quiet during the ride, still processing what they had seen in the underground facility. It was a little strange. None of them felt disgust or fear at Danny's actions, but anger and sadness at what he was forced to endure. Not once did they consider abandoning him, even though others might have shied away from his monstrous outburst.

Jazz wondered what Clockwork could possibly say to them that would make the whole thing better. She just wanted to see Danny. She wanted to sit down with him and watch shitty kid's movies while they huddled under that one big quilt her parents had. The one that was gifted to them as a wedding gift and the one they added to when something important happened. She felt horrible thinking about it now.

Jazz would probably never see that quilt again. And if she did, she would probably burn it.

"We're here," Dani quietly announced, untethering the group from her body as they touched Clockwork's island. Long Now was a special place even in the In-Between. The tower's foundations were in varying stages of decay, and much like its owner, the building warped from looking good as new to 'about to fall over' kind of old right before their eyes. Everything felt so fragile.

They entered the lower entrance, climbing a spiral staircase past rows and rows of clocks lining the walls. Everything was ticking out of sync, which usually annoyed Jazz to no end. Right now, she couldn't care less.

Reaching the top had a lack of fanfare. One minute they were passing the biggest fucking grandfather clock they'd ever seen, and the next, they were in Clockwork's main room at the top of the tower, facing the old ghost himself.

Clockwork didn't even look at them. He seemed exhausted.

"We're here," Jazz announced. "Tell us what you know."

"No greetings, Jasmine? I thought you raised Danny to have manners, so where are yours?"

"Locked behind the walls of Fentonworks. Tell us what you know, Clockwork, or I'll break everything here." She snarled. It wasn't an empty threat, and everyone knew it.

"Please, Clockwork," Tucker added. "We saw your message. Where's Danny?"

Dani started crying into Sam's shoulder. "Where's my brother?" The ghost girl sobbed. "I want to see Danny!"

Clockwork sighed. He was aging rapidly, growing wrinkles as they watched. "Daniel is safe, for now. I hid him in another world. However, the flow of time has changed. New paths are being forged. If things continue as they are, Daniel will become something worse than Dan."

Danielle muffled another sob.

"Daniel did something I did not expect while having his rampage in Yellowstone. It will take a delicate hand to make sure his actions do not cause him to go down the wrong path."

"What did he do?"

Clockwork looked them each in the eye. His eyes were glassy and blank, like the face of a new watch, but his sincerity was enough to reach them. "He sealed off the Realms."

Tucker choked. "I'm sorry, he wHAT??"

"Daniel, in his explosion of sudden power, sealed off the Infinite Realms from your home world's influence. Only the power of an Ancient can break that barrier now. The only portal still open is the one located in Fentonworks, protected by the strongest shield your mortal world has to offer. Vortex had to be sent out to collect ghostlings who didn't return in time. By sealing off the Realms, Daniel effectively declared they were under his protection and claimed the title 'Guardian' since only Guardians have the right to seal off worlds."

Jazz's mind was spinning. "He...sealed off our world. Did he do it on purpose?"

Clockwork shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. This was a decision made by Fate alone. He was simply the strongest power source available that was also willing to defend the Realms to his End. The Realms responded in kind and claimed him as Guardian. That is a title and a burden he will share forever."

"Oh, god..." Jazz sat heavily on the floor, reeling from the shock. Dani left Sam's shoulder and crumpled into her lap, still crying. Tucker and Sam also offered each other comfort, leaning on each other as Clockwork's words sunk in. "So, what happens to him? Where is he now? What future do we have to avoid?"

Clockwork waved his staff, summoning a few large clocks with reflective surfaces. The clockfaces glitched and changed to show different pictures of Danny, all doing various things at different stages in his life. One had Danny laughing with a group of strangers. Another had him shaking hands with a green-skinned man. A third was him sitting in a hospital bed, getting stabbed in the chest. They cycled through different pictures and videos, and it was hard to look away.

"This is the future we must avoid." Clockwork motioned to the smallest clock, which showed a furious Danny screaming into the vacuum of space, tears pouring down his face. A large rip into the Realms tore open from his Wail, and the stars surrounding him started to get sucked in.

"If this future comes true, Daniel will destroy not only your home world but the Realms as a whole," The Ancient explained. "Because of his new link to the Realms, no one will be able to take the title of Guardian from him. He will become a destroyer and tear apart every universe and every timeline. Everything will just...End."

"That's horrible," Sam whispered. "What's the tipping point?"

Again, Clockwork looked them deep in their eyes. "Your betrayals."

"WHAT??" Danielle screeched, whipping around.

"You betray him by dying, Danielle. You melt in his arms and ask why he didn't save you. Samantha, you betray him by leaving him. Your home world is never unsealed and you can't stand not being able to see your grandmother again. Tucker, you betray him by lying to him. You say you're on his side but end up stabbing him in the back for a 'good cause.' Jasmine, you betray him by acting just like your parents." Jazz felt tears prick her eyes, but Clockwork kept going. "You see the monster he has become and can't look past it. The four of you betraying him would be his last straw, and Daniel would rather tear apart the universe than be reminded of you four ever again. And so he does."

Sam protested, "We would never!"

"You wouldn't." Clockwork agreed. "But you can, and in some ways, you already have. That is how time works. If you do not want to bring about this end, you must actively fight against this destiny like Daniel has fought against Dan."

Tucker whipped out his PDA, already taking notes. "What's the game plan, then? I would rather eat Dash's underwear than stab Danny in the back. If I have to throw hands with an evil version of myself from the future, I'm willing to do that, too."

Clockwork smiled at them for the first time since their arrival. "That was the right response," he told Tucker. "You're already taking a step away from that future. But for the best ending for everyone, all four of you will need to connect with the Realms as well."

"But we don't have the same power that Danny does."

"No, but your will is just as strong as his. Prove to the Realms that you're willing to fight, protect, and love just as much as Daniel. Become his support. Do it right, follow in his footsteps, and the Realms shall accept you with open arms. You will be bound together as a family for eternity."

The four looked at each other. Jazz gently wiped away the remainder of Dani's tears as they pondered over the ghost's words. Connecting with the Realms would probably mean giving up some amount of their humanity, especially if it truly was a forever thing. They might follow in Danny's footsteps a little too closely-but for their friend and brother? They would do anything.

"Fuck eternity!"

"Tell us what to do."

"We'll always be there for Danny."

"I don't plan on eating any underwear, but I will fight evil me if that's what it takes."

Clockwork shriveled up, folding in on himself several times before unfolding into a child, like a phoenix (but without the fire). He looked less exhausted now, less like the promise of the End was no longer hovering over his shoulder. "Become the Guardian's Shadow, Danielle. Take up his mantle while he is away and keep the peace in his stead. Be the Guardian's Sword, Samantha. Be at the front of each fight and kill when he cannot. The Guardian's Shield will be you, Tucker. Your wish to protect those around you will come true, and you will gain the power to shield them from harm. And Jasmine-"

Jazz held her breath.

"You will have the most difficult job. You will be the Guardian's Scepter. His symbol of power. You will work behind the scenes to stage events that shall work in his favor no matter what."

She released her breath, surprised. "A scepter? Like the symbol of royalty? But wasn't the position of King given to another?"

"In sorts. Daniel helped elect a council to rule the Realms and refused to be a part of it. However, you shall be his Scepter, only wielded in times of need. You will take the dark and harsher jobs that shouldn't be brought to life. You will pull the strings to ensure the timelines stay together, and he never strays from the path."

"How would I do that?"

"You need to become my apprentice."

After Jason's statement about coming to see Ra's in person, the whole Batfamily blew up. Words were said in person and over text, and Damian was too exhausted at the time to get a word in edgewise, so let Jason argue for him. Eventually, Bruce had to take a moment away from his League duties and settle the matter over a conference call. After debating, he allowed Damian to return to the League of Assassins, provided Dick went with him. The man was already on a leave of absence from his job to cover for Batman, and he could keep a level head when dealing with the Demon's Head.

So off they went as soon as Alfred gave Damian the all-clear. Strangely enough, he had no side effects from being struck by fucking lightning. Well, almost none. He did feel flush every once in a while, and his veins burned like there was liquid battery acid in them, but other than that, he was fine! No, he didn't need another cold press, Alfred! It was only a few hours by plane; he'd be fine!

And honestly, with the news that Eth Alth’eban was on lockdown, Damian thought it would be harder to enter the city. Undetected, at least. Sadly, they were found out immediately and had a group waiting for them as they touched down. As soon as he stepped off the Batplane onto the private airstrip in Yemen, he was quickly surrounded by the 'welcoming' entourage of assassins. They took his bags, herding him toward a black car as Dick jogged to keep up with them. Damian was glad they didn't do a pat-down in their rush; he'd hidden the tablet under his clothes just for this purpose.

"Hey!" his brother shouted. "How did you guys even know we were here?"

"This is a League matter, Nightwing." The head of the group, a one-eyed man named after the god Balor, whom Damian recognized as part of his grandfather's elite, barely turned to look at Grayson and dismissed him entirely.

“No, this is a family matter,” Dick leaned against the door of the car, preventing Balor from opening it and shoving Damian in. They stared at each other long and hard.

“You are not an al Ghul.”

“Damian was nearly killed by a storm demon and told there was a new Heir who is somehow connected to said storm demon. I’m not leaving him alone.”

Balor considered the options before him, glancing at Damian. His one good eye assessed him. The boy simply raised a brow. “I’d prefer it if my baba came with us.”

The assassin’s face twitched, which was the equivalent of a snort of disgust, but gave in to Dick’s demands and herded them both into the car. Two more assassins slid in on either side of them while Balor took the passenger seat. The driver barely glanced at the airport security as they drove the vehicle off the tarmac and into the middle of the desert.

The drive felt long. Damian held a stoic face whenever Balor looked at him and refused to engage in any conversation with Dick. Even when the AC was turned off, everyone started sweating, and his brother was threatening to sing show tunes until they turned it back on.

He ended up singing, of course. Damian just zoned out as his brother started warbling through the entire soundtrack of Hairspray. Truly, the man had questionable taste. For their credit, the assassins made it through the entire performance of Hairspray and halfway through High School Musical before the driver slowly leaned over, never taking their eyes off the desert landscape, and flicked the AC back on to blast. They lasted longer than Bruce would have.

Dick still finished the High School Musical soundtrack despite getting what he wanted. No one ever said he did things half-assed.

Finally, Damian spotted the maze of canyons that housed the Assassin City, Eth Alth’eban. Damian wasn’t sure if his elder brother had ever been there before, but the tight hold he had on his hand suggested that Dick either had very complicated memories of the place or was anxious about being in enemy territory. He wasn’t really interested in asking.

As they approached, the main gate was large and imposing. The sun was high in the sky now and beat down on them to reflect all the minute details that had been carved into the gates. They were gorgeous pieces of work, ones that Ra’s was no doubt very proud of. Guards were there to welcome them, examining the vehicle from top to bottom to ensure nothing strange was being brought in from the outside world. Damian glared at his brother when the man leaned forward to take the attention off of him and the hidden tablet, loudly asking the outside guards when they could go in yet.

One of them narrowed their eyes at Dick. “An extra?” They hissed in Arabic. “This was not approved by the Demon’s Head.”

Balor jerked a thumb at Damian. “His choice,” he responded simply. “The Bats are never alone. The Head is aware of this." Since when? They never called ahead. Damian felt the burn of lighting in his veins again. He caught Balor's eye in the rearview mirror and realized that the man's eye color was much lighter than it was supposed to be. It was shifting between gray and blue, like a cloud, and stared at him with unusual intensity.

Fuck. Of course, the secret guard that was mentioned in the contract. It must have gone into effect when the Navigator returned to wherever he came from. How did he know they would end up in the Eth Alth'eban?

Whatever was said next, Damian missed, but eventually, the gates opened, and the car was let through. Dick was quiet once more, staring at the lush city, probably trying to figure out how to do a backflip off the tall buildings. They headed straight for the palace that was past the training grounds. Most people were taking a noon daybreak, so the grounds were empty when the car pulled up next to the designated drop-off point.

Balor motioned for the group to leave the car, and the two assassins tugged on Dick’s arm painfully, practically dragging him along and not allowing any room for him to wander off. Damian wasn’t touched, but he was no less shuffled in the same direction. They went up the steps, through hallways lined with servants and fountains, following a path Damian recognized easily. They were headed to the medical wing.

His mind raced. Was he ready to meet this ‘Phantom’ fellow? Would he insist on fighting to the death to prove his worth? Had his mother gotten his message and made it here before him? So many questions ran through his head, yet this was not the time to ask them. Damian bit his tongue and instead played the part of the perfect al Ghul. Silent, deadly, and proud.

Balor was leading the way. He studied the older man's back carefully, looking for any other inconsistencies in his behavior. There were none, except for a single cloud symbol stamped into his neck that shimmered the same color as Vortex. Did this mean he was possessed? Was he another one of the Navigator's blessed? Did Damian also have the same symbol? No one else seemed to notice the mark, so Damian put it in the back of his mind. He'd have Dick check his neck later, just in case.

They'd reached the end of the medical wing now, where Damian knew the rooms were sealed off for quarantined patients.

Indeed, a pair of guards stood in front of the extra set of doors. Balor nodded to the guards and pushed through without stopping. The quarantined corridor was short, with only six rooms, three on each side. Five were marked with a little green flag by the door, indicating their vacancy. The sixth, the farthest on the left, had a little red flag displayed. Damian pushed his way to the front of the group and beelined for the door. This was it. Soon, he'd have some answers.

His grandfather opened the door before he could knock. The al Ghuls looked at each other, noting how much had changed since they had last seen each other. His grandfather looked…well. He was healthy, and there were no visible injuries. His clothes were immaculate but simpler than his usual ornate robes. It felt like Ra's was dressed for a close social visit, not for taking over the world and planning murder.

"Damian," His grandfather was as short as ever, however. "You are late."

"Good to see you too, old man," Dick snarked. Ra's ignored him, waving a hand to Balor, who promptly shut the door again before Dick could walk through after Damian. The two were to wait in the hallway, apparently.

Damian moved further past his grandfather, forgoing the greeting. His eyes were glued to the hospital bed. Draped in rich blankets and wrapped in soft cotton bandages, a boy around his age was sitting up and staring at him with green eyes similar to his own. He was holding a glass of Lazarus water, raised to his lips like he was about to drink it. Honestly, if it wasn't for his incredibly pale skin and wispy white hair, the boy could have been his-

"Holy shit, we look exactly the same!" The boy lowered the glass, staring at Damian in wonder. His voice was double-layered, like the Navigator's, and it grated on Damian's mind with the sounds of screaming and creaking ice. "Are you Mr. al Ghul's other grandson? This is so freaky!"

Ah, so this was Phantom.

#dpxdc #pondhead writes #the folly of men fic #no beta we die like danny #long post #really long post #I asked myself how many titles i can give people and my hands took that as a challenge #the reason undergrowth and vortex go by those weird ass names is because the words for their name don't exist in the dc world #add that to ghost speech and basically it's easier to give themselves a title over the centuries #clockwork is just dramatic

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livwritesstuff · 5 months

Text

this is an edited repost of something I wrote last year for the 10-year anniversary of the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School (now 11 years today). to say the least, it’s a difficult day for a lot of people, including me. i wrote this all in one go just as a positive outlet for the things this day evokes and i went back and forth on if i would post it, but i know i’m not the only one who has been affected by these events. if you’re someone who finds this day to be a hard one, this one is for you.

tw: references to gun violence and school shootings

It’s late morning in December 2012 and Steve is watching the news. He isn’t really paying attention to the current segment about opiate use, too busy being completely annihilated in Words with Friends by his eleven-year-old, who just played the word ‘jinxes’ for 23 points, the bastard.

He’s mid-way through sending Moe a text (“get off your ipod you’re in class”) when the channel’s Breaking News intro interrupts the interview that he’d been ignoring. He looks up to see that the headline has changed.

Steve sees shooting, and then elementary school and feels his heart jump into his throat the way it does any time he hears sirens when his daughters or his husband aren’t home – not because he really believes it’s for them, but because it could be. There’s always a chance it could be.

And he’s got two kids in elementary school right now.

He makes himself read the headline in full – it clarifies that the school is in Connecticut, nowhere near him and his house and his children’s schools in the Massachusetts suburbs, but it does little to remedy the panic that has his heart going a mile a minute.

Steve sits for a while, eyes glued to the TV as the anchor slowly ad-libs, clearly waiting for any new scrap of information.

On the first commercial break, Steve checks his phone. He’s got one text – from Moe telling him to play another word in their game. He responds back with the message he’d written before he’d become fixated on the news.

On the second one, he texts Eddie, tells him he loves him and asks if he’s heard what’s going on (he knows he probably won’t get a response for a while – Eddie is notoriously bad at checking his phone and that’s when he’s not in a meeting he’s been looking forward to for weeks, as is the case today).

By the third, they’ve learned the school is on lock-down, but not much more.

Everything he hears after that is nothing short of harrowing, and leaves Steve feeling sick to his stomach.

Eddie finally texts him a couple hours later, after the news anchor has been switched out for another, to say his meeting ran late (an actual director had reached out to him saying she was interested in adapting one of Ed’s books into a movie – today was the day they got to talk in person) and he hadn’t known any of this was going on, but he’s on his way to pick up Hazel from her AM kindergarten session.

Steve’s day continues. He makes lunch, he finishes some laundry, he responds to emails, always with one eye on the news. His shock at what was occurring mere hours south of his home, subsides, slowly replaced with a dull horror because he’s seen a lot of things in his forty-six years of life, but nothing like this. One by one, his three girls return home from school and he hugs each of them like he always does, but today it’s a little tighter.

It’s a Friday, and Friday night is movie night in the Harrington house. It’s Robbie’s night to choose (she picks Spy Kids, like she does every time she gets to pick the movie since it came out last year). Before they start, Steve and Eddie tell their kids what happened. They do their best to find an explanation that is sufficient for ever-precocious Moe, but not too much for Hazel, their sweet kindergartner who only just turned six. Once the movie starts, they all pile under the same blanket, and where there’s usually fidgeting and arguing and occasionally having to pause the movie altogether to wipe tears and wait on a time-out because someone weaponized a foot or an elbow after they weren’t given the big bowl of popcorn fast enough, tonight there is quiet and stillness.

The next day, the girls are back to their normal, bickering selves, but Steve still can’t shake the aching feeling in his chest every time he thinks about what happened the day before. He starts to get that itch in his brain, the same itch he'd felt after he ran out of the Byers’s house in 1983, after he turned back and saw those Christmas lights flickering, the itch where he’s gearing up for a fight.

As the months go on, Steve finds himself reading into gun control laws, finds himself with multiple non-profits fighting for them bookmarked on his computer, finds himself following politics for the first time in his life as he watches bill after bill get shut down by both sides of the debate.

Honestly, Steve isn’t sure why he cares so deeply about this – and not just what happened in Connecticut, but the issue of guns and gun safety in general. It’s not like he hasn’t fired a gun before. It’s not like he’s never seen their value (he still remembers that drive to the War Zone so many years ago). It’s not like he hasn’t ever felt safer with someone nearby wielding one, even if that someone was Nancy Wheeler.

Maybe he’s a little too familiar with children being the casualties in a war they didn’t choose to start, didn’t choose to fight in, and if that had made him angry at nineteen, he’s irate now, now that he has a six-year-old like the students in that classroom in Connecticut, now that he has an eleven-year-old like El when she escaped that lab in Hawkins.

It wouldn’t be the first time Steve threw himself into a battle that had nothing to do with him, that he knew very little about, because he knows what happens when children get caught in the crossfire of a battle that has nothing to do with them, and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he sat idly by and watched it happen again.

#i’m NERVOUS posting this one idk #they can’t all be fun times folks #idk if el was eleven years old in season 1 i'm pulling the artistic license for that one #i am definitely projecting here but whatever that’s what fandom is for i’m pretty sure #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson #tw: school shooting #tw: gun violence

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cellarspider · 2 months

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7/?? germs.

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We return to a movie that disrespects the archaeological importance of roads, Prometheus.

I am still not over that. I will never be over that.

This time, content warnings for continuing frat boy archaeology, cringeful application of racist terms to lily-white androids, me screeching about site contamination some more, and Apollo’s dodgeball striking this movie with a glancing blow about masking.

So, back in the theater in 2012, I had already lost sympathy for the cast. They were being set up as stock horror movie characters, they were doing their jobs in a way with a certain flair for the incompetent.

And one of them, I suspect, the movie intends to make into a “flawed but you feel for him” kind of guy. Or, I hope they intended to make him “the guy in the slasher movie who you hate and want to see die”. That’s Holloway, one of the two archaeologists. He’s robot racist.

Like, seriously robot racist. The whole crew is, David literally gets referred to as “boy” here, which isn’t so much a dogwhistle as a tornado siren. No wonder David is quietly starting to show his disdain for the human crew.

“They're making you guys pretty close [to human now], huh?”

“Not too close, I hope.”

One of the few themes the movie handles halfway competently is the parallel between the humans stumbling all over themselves as they rush to go meet their makers, while David is already experiencing the disappointment of actually meeting his, and finding out they’re a bunch of clueless assholes. Are we supposed to believe the same of the Engineers? I don’t know. They definitely think of humans as lesser, though. More to come on that later.

Because right now, an expedition is barrelling toward the alien structure–again, driving all over the FCKING ALIEN ROAD–and they’re doing it with only six hours of daylight left, because Holloway literally says “It's Christmas [...] and I want to open my presents.”

I cannot communicate how heinous this character felt. The actor did a perfectly fine job playing him, but if Charlie Holloway was real, his name would be said with the same venom as that of the man pictured below: Heinrich Schliemann, the man who found the real, actual city of Troy, and immediately dynamited a trench through the royal palace, destroying who knows how many artifacts from the period the Iliad was based off of. Yes, I picked out the most assholish-looking photo of him I could find on purpose.

Also, Holloway’s an anti-masker, apparently.

I’m going to step back for just one second and list the one practical, movie budget reason why characters might take their helmets off. The costume designers did an admirable job coming up with something that fits the general requirement of a helmet in major studio releases, prior to The Mandalorian: make the actor’s faces completely visible, because without actors with a strong sense of physical presence and voice acting, you’ll lose connection with the audience.

They did a great job with that. Unfortunately, shiny helmets are a bastard to digitally edit film crew out of.

It’s not impossible to place lights and crew so that the audience won’t notice them. Alien certainly pulled it off. Clear plastic elements in helmets also mean other logistical challenges, though: fogging being the main one. This, and cooking your actors in a fishbowl under studio lights.

Both problems can be simultaneously combated by installing A/C fans within the helmets, but because these helmets are entirely clear, you’re limited to hiding them down near the neck, and anybody who’s done similar for a cosplay or suit will know that it’s potentially noisy and not always effective. You can actually see condensate on the helmets in the movie, though whether that’s from the actor’s breath or a deliberate choice, I don’t know.

All this adds up to increased time resetting actors (i.e. cleaning sweat off of them without disrupting their makeup), more exhaustion from said actors, and the worry that the highest-paid, plot-critical actors may decide they don’t want to do a sequel if the shooting experience is too physically unhealthy.

And then there’s also more time spent carefully arranging crew and lights to hide their reflections, or more time making some poor VFX artist erase a transparent, curved reflection from frame and replace it with something else, or make the actors more comfortable by adding the glass in later with CGI, at the potential loss of some realism. The average modern movie studio would choose one of these VFX-driven options and demand it done in a week, which is why VFX artists need to unionize.

So. I understand at least a few logistical reasons why you don’t tend to make actors wear helmets for too many shooting days. But it has to be balanced with the story. It has to feel believable. It has to fit the story. It has to not make your characters look like mud-witted morons.

As soon as they find liquid water and the oh-so-deadly CO2 levels start to drop, Holloway takes his helmet off.

“Don't be an idiot.”

“Don't be a skeptic.”

Flames on the side of my goddamn face.

Now, this is the moment a lot of people lost sympathy for the human characters, even back in 2012. It was a dumbass idea even then, in the pre-’rona years. Sadly, Millburn the biologist isn’t written smart enough to punch Holloway in the nuts over even thinking of doing this, because we have two problems with what Holloway’s doing here: Biology, and biology.

First, biology.

(https://www.turbosquid.com/3d-models/13-viruses-virus-3d-model/1071200)

Obviously, they don’t know if anything’s in the air. He could find out that humans are deathly allergic to alien dust mites. He could have just caught himself a case of space covid, which he and the lemmings that follow him can then transmit to the entire crew if he’s not kept in quarantine. They can sterilize the sealed suits, but they can’t sterilize the inside of his lungs. Yet.

Second, biology.

Specifically, Earth biology. Do you know how carefully modern space agencies sterilize anything that’s headed for Mars, or anywhere else that might have a biosphere of its own? A lot! They sterilize everything a lot! Because microbes are hardy little bastards. We’ve never found extraterrestrial life, only precursor molecules that show the capacity for life to develop in other places. How are you going to verify you’ve found alien life, or even those precursors, if you can’t prove that your samples are uncontaminated? What happens if microbes from Earth manage to survive the trip and establish a foothold somewhere? What if they destroy native life?

This movie’s characters treat this with only a fraction of the gravitas that the cinematography does, which is part of why this remains so jarring throughout. The practical sets, the art direction, and the camerawork are all excellent. The editing continues to do its best, though it almost feels like things were cut very tight through this to speed things along and to give more time, unfortunately, to what the characters are doing.

their crimes against my sanity are not done yet

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As a side note, rounding up some discussion from a previous entry: The most excellent artist @noordzee pointed out that the clashing artistic style of the moon and stars slapped onto the carving of Kʼinich Janaab Pakal I. In the previous post, I focused on the link between that carving and its use in ancient aliens conspiracy theories. But let's dig a bit into actual Maya iconography around celestial bodies instead.

Now, I am not an expert on Classical Maya stuff. Not in the slightest. And there is a lot of information on their art that is linguistically inaccessible to me, as a non-Spanish speaker. But out of the Maya art and writing that survived the book-burning conquistadors, we have some iconography for the moon and stars, and they don’t look like what’s in the movie.

I wasn’t able to find any specific pieces of art that contained stars, but I did find the glyph for star, ek’.

I was only able to find depictions of a crescent moon in the context of the moon goddess, where she tends to be sitting on the crescent like a chair, or one part of it is shown behind her, almost like a tail (though I can’t be certain whether that’s due to chipped paint).

The moon by itself was somewhat harder to find. I couldn’t find any Maya depictions of it with my limited poking around of the spanish internet, but I did find a (much later) Mixtec depiction of the moon, complete with a lunar rabbit! Much like East Asian cultures, the darker markings on the moon are culturally interpreted as a rabbit shape.

Thanks again to nordzee for pointing out the dissonant art style, because the real mesoamerican art on this subject is phenomenal.

Next time, the movie will hurt me more, so if anybody else has fun facts to share or details to point out. PLEASE. Ease my pain.

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Alt text citations:

None this time. Many ramblings, though.

#prometheus 2012 #prometheus (2012)#I work in a place where quite a lot of people have to put on clean room suits to go to work #their rooms are behind airlock doors #and that's just to make sure outside germs don't get in #to keep things clean #we don't even have the REALLY scary containment rooms that a few biological laboratories have #I'll ramble more about the logistics of that later #when the movie gets around to breaking laboratory safety standards as well

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palmofafreezinghand · 8 months

Note

For your Day Needing Distraction requests, wanna do a scene that's just Carlisle and Esme but set during the saga somewhere?

thank you so much for the prompt @jessicanjpa, sorry this took a lil bit!

Esme tries to appease Carlisle's worries about Edward's new relationship with a story about their own. on ao3 here.

Carlisle fed another log to the crackling fire. Edward had banished his ‘parents’ to Carlisle’s study while Isabella Swan was getting a tour of the family home for the first time, something about not terrifying her too much on the first encounter.

“It never turns off does it?” Esme asked from her place on the loveseat behind him.

He furrowed his brow, gaze still focused on the flames. “Do I dare ask for more context?”

“That little brain of yours,” she sighed. His brain being referred to as little made him look over his shoulder at her. “Whatever in there that makes you constantly picture our gory firey deaths and has convinced you God will never let you be happy.”

He chuckled lightly, standing and walking slightly slower than a human to the couch. “My father deserves some credit for that.”

“You’re deflecting,” she rolled her eyes as he lifted her feet off the cushion and took a seat, letting her legs rest across his lap.

“I was not blessed with your optimism, my love.”

“Faith is a choice,” she parroted words he had told her decades earlier.

“Alice saw it. She saw him ki —”

“Alice wears fishnet tights and paints her eyes like a raccoon. Truly I have no idea why any of us trust her judgement.”

He gasped theatrically, lightly squeezing her calf. “Did I not hear you just yesterday tell her you admired her makeup?”

“I said I admired her bravery to experiment. There is a difference.”

“I see,” he nodded absentmindedly, eyes fixed on the fire. Our gory firey deaths.

She leaned forward and poked at the crease between his eyebrows. “You’re still worrying. Do you not trust Edward.”

“I love Edward,” he said instinctively.

“I don’t believe that’s what I asked.”

“I…” he took a deep breath, weighing the words in his mind. Thousands of thoughts and yet unable to find the way to begin to voice them. She placed her thumb and index on his chin and softly turned his head to look at her. “I believe he can manage it. But you know how he is. He gets over-confident and stubborn, and people get hurt, and he gets hurt.”

She smiled. “Who does that remind me of?”

“I’m not stub— ” he stopped himself before he could deny her claim and in turn prove it.

She blew air out of her nose. “Did you ever worry about us, when we first started courting?”

“Always”

“Me too.”

“You did?” He frowned, again.

“Till the moment Edward dragged me down the aisle.”

“Dragged?”

“He never told you the story?”

“There’s a story?”

“Do you remember our wedding day?”

He laughed. He remembered every single moment they had spent together in perfect detail, but even without the eidetic memory, he would remember their wedding day. “Vaguely.”

“You remember how I was late?”

“For the first and last time in your life, yes.” It had been a source of many quips over the years.

“That may have been because I completely panicked. I believe I ran as far as Colorado when Edward caught up.”

“Pardon?”

“Shush,” she grinned, amused by what had to of been horror on his face, slinging her arms loosely around his neck. “My mind had been racing for hours, imagining every horrible scenario that could happen once we were married. Poor Edward had been listening to this for hours. When Edward finally stopped me he said...

——

“You’re right,” Edward yelled, from the other side of the river, still gauging how he was going to cross.

Esme dug her heels into the ground, coming to an abrupt halt. “Pardon?”

“Carlisle could become a monster. You’re right. Marriage may be the worst choice you ever make. You are absolutely correct.”

“This is not helpful, Edward,” she huffed.

“I can not promise things won’t go horribly wrong, they could. But… I can promise that if things go right you two will be incredibly happy.”

“I do not gamble.”

“Esme, you two deserve happiness more than anyone I know.”

“We’re the only people you know,” she attempted a smile that failed to reach her eyes.

“If you truly want to leave, I will personally ensure you never have to worry about a cent, I can make sure Carlisle never contacts you again. But I need to know with absolute certainty you are not throwing away something that could be wonderful simply because you’re frightened.”

Esme sighed as she sat down clumsily on the river bank. She chewed at the corner of her lip. The rushing water was the only sound made for minutes.

“What time does your pocket watch say?” Esme finally asked.

“Ten after eleven.”

She stood, brushing dirt off her ratty house dress. “I’ll have to get ready quickly, but we can still make it.”

“Are you positive?”

“More than I ever have been.”

——

“You left?” Carlisle exclaimed, eyebrows nearly in his hairline.

“I came back!”

“Mere hours before our wedding you were halfway across the country,” he muttered. He was no longer looking at her, back to the fire, gory firey death in the form of a lonely groom at the altar. The spiral began.

“Look at that, you’ve stopped worrying about Edward,” she laughed.

“No, no, now I’m only worried about our entire marriage.”

“Carlisle,” she placed her hands on either side of his face, “I love you more than life itself. I am not asking you to be an optimist. I am not asking you to even be positive. I’m asking you to let him have a chance at something wonderful.”

He closed his eyes in resignation, or at least she thought it was resignation. “Colorado, that’s over a thousand miles.”

“You’re impossible,” she laughed.

#sorry this took a lil bit i started something in breaking dawn timeline got 2k deep and changed course #carlisle cullen #esme cullen #edward cullen #my stories

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railleriee · 2 years

Text

Random Genshin Impact Headcanons

Characters included: Xiao, Kazuha, Heizou, Razor, Thoma, Childe, Albedo, kaeya, Diluc, Itto.

Summary: Mostly fluff! There is a few angst references but not many!

Warnings: none. ( let me know if there are any you spot! )

Xiao:

Doesn’t know how to wink

Has freckles covering his entire face, he was definitely insecure of them for a couple years.

Tried out multiple weapons, took him almost 4 years to stick with the polearm.

Finds horror games and horror movies terrifying, he refuses to play or watch them.

He adores qiqi. He definitely stops to have lunch with her a few times a week.

Thinks pillows feel weird so he sleeps flat on a mattress. ( if he ever does sleep. )

Played Minecraft once, died to phantoms, rage quit, and never played again.

Doesn’t know what to say when people knock on the bathroom door, he almost always gets walked in on.

Kazuha:

Everyone loves this fucker.

Get’s absolutely stoned and believes he's good at faking it.

Has a pet cat that he keeps on the crux. Begs Beidou to feed it when he’s gone.

Listens to cigarettes after sex and makes it his entire personailty.

Starts decorating for Halloween August 1st.

Collects potted plants from each region he visits.

Rings!

I feel like he cries when he thinks of Tomo, it’s not every time but maybe once every 6 times he thinks about him.

When he’s traveling and is passing mondstadt he will stop to say hi to Mona and Fishcl.

Razor:

Collected bugs and kept them in jars. Cried when they died in the jars.

Also doesn’t know how to wink

Scared of the Easter bunny.

Thinks people who can roll their tongue are the coolest people ever.

Loves the idea of holidays, he never celebrated them as he had no clue they existed.

Spends Christmas and thanksgiving w/ Lisa.

Dresses up as a wolf for Halloween.

Loves giving gifts. A lot of them are flowers, rocks he found cool, and cute little trinkets he found laying around.

Thoma:

Has baking competitions with Ayaka.

Ends up being yelled at for the mess they made in the kitchen by Ayato.

Sobbed watching The Fault in Our Stars.

He really enjoys sappy romance movies.^

He definitely barks back at dogs when they bark at him.

Scared of horror games.

He has nightmares about the incident with the vision hunt decree. ( sorry

Paints his nails!

Heizou:

Get’s absolutely stoned with Kazuha but is actually good at hiding it.

Pretends he knows the lyrics to Bohemian Rhapsody.

Wears beret's claiming it makes him look smarter.

Madly good at playing drums.

Has a collection of stationary, mostly pens.

He’s very comfortable with his masculinity! He’s very fluid with his outfits.

He likes to be the little spoon.

Childe:

Unironically makes dad jokes.

“Hey girlie ;) this ones for you”

HE WEARS GLASSES. ( you can’t change my mind. )

Listening to Christmas music in September.

Still doesn’t know Zhongli is Morax.

Makes fun of and teases people but can’t handle it when they do it back.

Would honestly do anything for the traveler. I genuinely think he cares so much about them.

Great cuddler.

Albedo:

Likes collecting jewelry although he rarely wears any, an occasional necklace maybe.

Won’t talk to you unless it's about science or art.

He dresses up in dresses and lets Klee do his hair just to see her get excited.

Doesn’t understand the concept of technology, he’d rather stick with pen and paper notes.

He smells like vanilla with a mix of that “flannel” scent.

Drank a poisonous potion twice, after losing the paperwork he had for it.

Yells at the sky when it snows, he tells it to stop as it gets his notes wet.

Kaeya:

Teases Diluc by playing daddy issues by the neighborhood in the tavern.

Brings Albedo lunch cause he often forgets to eat throughout all his research.

Makes bets on things. When he loses, he avoids the person at all costs and refuses to give them their reward on things.

Spends all his Mora on “perfecting his clothing choices”.

He definitely has a choker and ring collection, making sure to change which he wears daily.

He has multiple ear piercings including an industrial.

Diluc:

Will correct peoples grammar in letters and send them back along with his response.

Refuses to kill bugs. He picks them up in his hand or with a napkin and lets them outside.

Has left Kaeya passed out at the tavern overnight.

Throws out flowers he receives from his admirers.

I can't handle change by Roar

Glasses Diluc truther

To go along w/ glasses Diluc ^ He refuses to tell anyone he’s fucking blind so instead he reads and analyses things close to his face when others are around.

Itto:

Definitely used to eat onikabuto.

Repeats the same joke over and over again because one person thought it was funny.

Ate yellow snow once as a kid cause he thought it was lemon flavored.

Takes him FOREVER to get ready in the mornings.

He has trouble reading and writing.

Doesn’t know the difference between their, there, and they’re.

I feel like he gives the best hugs.

Genuinely really good at comforting people.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fanfics #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #xiao #kaedehara kazuha #razor #itto #childe #thoma #heizou #kaeya #diluc #albedo #genshin impact men #genshin men headcannons

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thiswasinevitableid · 1 year

Text

The Kepler Horror (Indruck)

The winner of the "weird mer" poll was: A mer who isn’t so much half-human, half-fish as all eldritch. This fill is NSFW and contains oviposition.

Content Notes: given the prompt, there is mild reference to body horror. There is also a brief reference to nonconsensual artificial insemination (for lack of a better word).

Men in fancy carriages are a rare sight in this part of the state, so all the neighbors are sticking their heads out the window to see what on earth could have brought one to the Newton’s front door.

Duck’s father ushers the somber lawyer inside and his mother offers him something to drink, but he seems as uneasy with his visit as they do.

When they’re settled around the table, the man produces a paper, “This is the last will and testament of Alistair Cold.”

The four Newton’s trade a puzzled look. The Duck’s father snaps his fingers, “ah, yes, the fella my uncle Herbert worked for.”

“The very same. Mr. Cold passed away in the summer” he indicates where the paper is dated June 8th, 1872, “And was without any living family. This will stipulates his house, land, and all possessions and money go to his loyal servant, Charles. Except, Charles died the same night Mr. Cold did. Since Mr. Cold was insistent the state not come into possession, his will also lays out which servant to consider next. The two prior to your uncle flatly refused the offer and turned over their rights to it. And your uncle, as you no doubt know, passed in October. His own will named you his heir, which entailed only the bequeathment of a horse.”

“She’s a good horse.” His father replies.

“The point is, Mr. Newton, the estate on the coast is all yours.”

His father turns his attention to Duck, “seems to me it’s high time my son had a place to call his own. The money won’t hurt none neither.”

“Mr. Newton, you don’t have a-”

“I know what I said.”

Duck smiles to himself, and lets himself daydream about his future home.

—------------------------------------------------

Indrid swims up, up, up the dark shaft, out of habit and foolish hope more than anything else. The hatch at the top is sealed like it always is. Like the futures say it always will be.

He lets out a burbly sigh and sinks down, down, down once again.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

Duck doesn’t believe in ghosts. But if there was ever a house to be haunted, it’s the one staring down at him now.

The view of the sea is nice. It’s the creaking frame, rattling windows, and yards of spiderwebs he could do without. All the rooms are full of dusty ghosts, chairs and tables and fancy shit he has no name for peeking out from their shrouds.

He bought new clothes in Richmond (his sister, Jane, came with him that far so he could buy her some too), mostly practical outfits for working on the house or in the–badly overgrown–garden. A few are for dinner parties or going out into the nearby town of Kepler, and maybe even for impressing a sweetheart. But before he can tuck them safely away in the wardrobes, he has to pull heaps of grim, unused clothing from the darkness.

As he explores the house, he takes mental note of just how many things he can get rid of. No one needs this much china or this many silver nick-knacks. Not even their previous owner, going from how new most of them look.

While in the library, he leans against the mantle of the unlit fireplace. When the stone beneath his elbow depresses, he momentarily panics that the whole damn place is about to come down around his ears. Instead, a panel opens in the floor of the eastern corner, revealing a sharply angled, stone staircase.

He debates whether it’s safest to ignore the weird, creepy staircase or follow it to make sure there’s not something weirder and creepier lurking under his house. He decides he’d rather not be murdered in his sleep by, grabs the pistol his dad insisted he bring, and takes his lantern into the depths beneath the mansion.

When he reaches the bottom, he gets a hunch as to what probably killed Alistair Cold.

He’s in a laboratory straight from the penny dreadfuls Jane is always reading. Jars of sickly, green liquid line the shelves and there’s a rack of surgical tools that makes him shudder when he sees how sharp they were kept. There are also several large books bound in brown leather containing nothing but an alien language and pictures so upsetting he instantly slams them closed.

“That’s enough of the creepy basement for today.” He says it aloud just to hear a familiar voice.

As he turns to leave, he steps on a pedal at the base of a cabinet. Grinding metal fills the air and he braces for something to blow up or fall over. When nothing happens, he decides that the pedal must be disconnected from whatever it once controlled, and heads back to the daylight.

—--------------------------------------------

Can it be?

Indrid tentatively presses first his tentacles and then his whole body against the hatch of the tunnel. It groans, then gives way, revealing the lab in a similar state to the last time he saw it. There’s no sign of the master of the house, and so Indrid keeps quiet; the previous instance when he tried to free himself and explore without permission, the human sunk a stake of hawthorn into his center. The damned thing was enchanted and twisted to conform to his shape no matter how many times he rearranged his body.

Tonight it’s safest to sit on the rim of the tunnel, drinking in the sounds of the surface. Tomorrow he’ll brave the laboratory. And the night after, the stairs.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

Duck prides himself on being friendly and easy going. Which is why he’s trying not to take it too personally that no one in this tavern has looked at him since he mentioned where he was living. The shoulder he’s getting is colder than the freezing rain outside.

As he’s wondering if he’ll have to eat his dinner standing, a young woman with black hair and a massive, black rabbit in her lap waves him over to her table. She introduces herself as Aubrey, and they chat about how he’s liking Kepler. When yet another diner gives Duck a wide berth, she rolls her eyes.

“Ignore them. They’re all jumpy because you’re living in the Cold place. The guy who lived there before was a major dick. But that didn’t have anything to do with the house.”

“I feel like I’m gonna regret asking but: what actually happened to him?”

Aubrey slowly spins her spoon on the table, “He was doing experiments with magic; if there’s something beyond black magic, I’m pretty sure it was that. Nasty stuff, stuff that made people sick or disappear or…” she shudders “apparently he had a thing for kidnapping women who’d then give birth to kids they couldn’t remember wanting or conceiving. I only moved here two years ago, but I guess it’d been going on for a long, long time.”

“Jesus.”

“Right? I guess he eventually pissed off the wrong person or they figured out they outnumbered him, but a mob stormed the house, tied him to a tree, and burned him. And I get it but, like, it freaks me out that they’d just do that. Now I think everyone is treating your house like it’s this beacon of evil because weird stuff happens in Kepler all the time that they’re scared of.”

Duck’s mind wanders to the basement, “Weird stuff?”

“The fact that it rains all the time even though it doesn’t do the same one county up or down the coast, the freaky stuff people see while fishing, the ghostly shapes above the church every night, a higher than average number of witches, oh, and that guy, Stern,” she points to a tall, well dressed man who just walked in, “apparently he trained under a witch hunter? And then he got sent out here because there’s supposedly a giant, hairy monster in the woods that some people think is the devil but is probably a totally nice guy if I had to guess.”

The rabbit hops on the table and he pets its head, “And if a fella wanted to steer as clear of all that as possible?”

“Spend lots of time in your house? Like I said, as far as anyone knows, he was the only evil thing there. Or” Aubrey leans closer, “if you ever want to pal around with people who can help the weird feel less, um, threatening, come by Amnesty Lodge. It’s about a half-mile from your place, on the edge of the woods.”

Duck thanks her for the invitation and decides to avoid Amnesty Lodge as much as humanly possible.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------

Indrid is now certain Alistair Cold is no longer alive. As he trawls the laboratory, there’s no sign of him there or in any of the futures. This opens up so many possibilities his whole being shivers in excitement.

The only reason he does not rush upstairs is he’s hungry, and if there is anyone else in the house he does not wish to embarrass himself by eating their entire pantry. And so he slithers back depths in search of dinner and leaves his exploration for tomorrow.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

There’s someone in the house.

From his bed, Duck can hear them moving on the lower level, the odd bump of furniture and strange chirp interrupting the steady sound of whoever it is moving closer. When it reaches the stairs, instead of steps there’s a horrible, repetitive squelching until the monster–because there’s no fucking way this is a person–is on the landing.

He knows for a fact he locked all the doors to the outside and, as a result, his bedroom door isn’t. If he moves, it might know he’s here and zero in on him. But if he gets to the door in time, he can keep whatever is stalking the halls at bay until he figures out what the fuck to do.

The bedroom door creaks the instant his feet hit the floor. It groans open, the surrounding darkness offering no clues as to what’s on the other side.

Tentacles come first, patting the walls and floor. Then there’s a horrible skitter as crab-like feet cross the threshold. The mass at the center of the body tips this way and that, and no matter how hard or long he stares he can’t make any sense of it. Milky eyes on what could be a neck give way to gaping gills lined with teeth but then they don’t and he’s looking at some new aspect of the horror.

When the monster turns, floor wet beneath it and attention fully on Duck, he does the least helpful thing possible.

He faints.

When he comes too, it’s with a nose of dark, sea-salty air. Something alien is resting on his face, and he braces himself to discover he’s already being digested.

The cool tissue on his face pats his cheek, which startles him into opening his eyes. He’s sitting on the floor, his back to the bed. There’s still a monster in front of him; its face is human, with silver-white hair falling around the angles of its cheeks and its glowing, red eyes. But the skin on its arms is mottled black and red, the texture too close to that of an eel for comfort, its hands are webbed and end in blood-red claws, and a frill of the same color sits behind its neck. Stranger still is the black fish-tail draped on the floor and the fact a patch of its chest is translucent, revealing an incomprehensible, teeming mass.

It’s a mermaid from hell. Compared to what was in the room before, it may as well be a kitten.

“Ah, you are awake!” The monster sits back and claps its hands, “I caught you before you could hit your head but I am never sure how long humans remain asleep when they faint and was beginning to worry.”

“You can talk.”

“Indeed. Oh, oh dear, where are my manners” he holds out a hand, “I am Indrid. You are Duck, yes?”

“How did you know that? And, and where did that other thing go?”

The monster cocks his head, “I am it. I can change shape to a degree, and I can see the future, which is how I know your name and that you are about to say you need a drink. I will fetch it.” Indrid tries to stand, frowns, and then his tail splits in two.

Duck looks away, stomach churning, until footsteps fade across the floor. He’d though Aubrey was exaggerating about what went on here but no, no it’s pouring rain outside and pinching his arm tells him he isn’t dreaming.

The monster rejoins him on the floor and offers a cup from the dresser. Not knowing what else to do, he takes it.

“You are afraid of me.”

“I, uh, I ain’t not-not, fuck, uh, I” he sighs, “yeah, okay, you got me, I’m afraid. Because a fucking sea monster turned up in my house!”

Indrid flinches at the noise, “I did not know you were residing here. I only know the hatch was open once more and I was so very excited to visit the surface once more” A thin membrane blinks across his eye, “goodness, I forgot how overwhelming it is to take in so much of the world through my eyes.” He looks sadly at Duck, but scoots a good six feet back across the floor, “I am sorry. I do not blame you. All humans fear the creatures of the depths. Except for Alistair.”

Duck sets the glass on the floor, “Can we go back to the part where you came through a hatch?”

“It is in the laboratory. If you wish I will show you. And yes, I am aware that showing you means you would then know how to bar me from the house. But that is your right; I do not wish to bother you.”

Against all his common sense, Duck stands and follows Indrid down the stairs, through the secret passage, and into the lab. They come to a circular, metal hatch on the floor, inscribed with the same, strange letters Duck saw in Cold’s notes. Indrid opens it, then slides in and rests his arms on the edge.

“Alistair made this to allow a creature from the depths to arrive at the surface in a matter of seconds. I was the one he was able to summon, and for a time he would let me marvel at the surface world while he asked me questions and wrote out formulas in his notebooks. Then one day, the hatch was locked and I could no longer visit. I did not miss him, but the surface world…I love it so, and I saw so little of it and when I found this unlocked I simply…I wanted…” he looks away and Duck discovers that same translucence on his chest races up his spine, “I am sorry. It was foolish of me to emerge. I will depart, and you need not see me again.”

Duck should let him go, seal the hatch, and then move to Australia. But Indrid’s honest, strange sorrow tugs at his heart, and he wonders what could make such a terrifying creature long for a life so different from what he knows. Wonders if Indrid, floating in the abyss, feels as out of place as Duck sometimes did on the street back home.

“I’ll make you a deal. You can come visit, but we gotta get a bell or something for you to ring so I know you’re here and don’t have a heart attack when I open a door and you’re behind it. We clear?”

Indrid grins with several rows of teeth, climbs from the pool, and grabs a length of rope dangling from the ceiling. When he tugs it, a bell sounds in the house above them.

Duck stares at the smiling monster, wondering what the fuck he’s agreed to, and says, “Yep, that’ll work.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The bell first rings two days later. Duck is at the dining table, rain battering the windows. It’s been so stormy the last few days that going into town carried a real risk of getting washed away or sucked into the mud, so he’s used his time to read up on wet-weather gardening and work on a model ship.

When the bell sounds, he wonders if Indrid will even come to see him, since his interest was in the house and not with Duck. But after only a few moments, footsteps announce the merman (Duck can’t think of what else to call him) by the fireplace. Indrid waves, awkward but earnest, and comes to join him, swaying in his steps like a new sailor at sea.

“Hello again.”

“Howdy. Uh, do you need anythin’ from me?”

“No. I do enjoy company, but there is no need to entertain me.”

Duck nods and goes back to his work. Indrid looks at the books, then stands and begins wandering the room, returning to the window every few minutes to stare out at the rainy road and the town in the distance. When Duck asks if he’d like some coffee, he says yes and then dumps half the sugar bowl into it when Duck brings him some.

“What do you do?” The merman sips his coffee.

“Fuck all at the moment. I went from helpin my folks with farm work to bein a fella with a mansion and a bunch of money. I’ll get bored of it eventually, but right now it’s nice to just kinda drift around.”

“Drifting can be rather relaxing.” Indrid pads over to the finished ship, claws clicking on china as he studies it, “will this then go in a bottle? I have seen those in books.”

“Nah, that’s a whole level of fuss I ain’t willin’ to go to.”

Indrid offers a hum of understanding, then touches a hand to the table. A deep blue ocean of mist spreads from his fingers, catching the underside of the boat. Then Duck can see the outlines of whales and squid beneath the waves, all matching the scale of his boat. The mist unfurls across the table, his boat sailing it until it lands safely in his hands. The ocean lingers, curling around him so he can watch the schools of fish and stray mermaids swimming within it. When it dissipates, he turns, awestruck and grinning, to Indrid.

“What was all that for?”

The merman shrugs, happily, “I wanted to see if I could make you smile.”

—--------------------------------------------------------

Since it’s a drizzle rather than a downpour, Duck is taking the afternoon to fetch supplies from town. As he’s un-tethering his horse, Winnie, from in front of the general store, his gaze falls on a heartbreaking sight; a child, no more than ten, sits on the corner, knees to her chest and her hand out. Her ears are shaped like coral and he spots a frill much like the one on Indrid. Most people who see her cross the street.

“It’s tragic, isn’t it?”

Duck turns to find Joseph Stern behind him.

“Where the hell are her folks?”

“Dead, I believe. The flu took them last year and the orphanage in Ashington won’t take her.” He steps beside Duck, “she’s not the only child in Kepler to suffer this way either. There are some with gills who cannot survive for more than a few hours away from water. Some with webbed hands, or teeth that mean their tongues struggle to speak in a way that others understand. A few are lucky and have family who protect them as they should. But many have been cast from place to place since they could walk. I believe Mrs. Cobb at the Lodge does what she can for them."

“The kids Aubrey talked about.” Duck murmurs.

Stern’s blue eyes are now fixed on him, “Exactly. No one quite knows what Alistair Cold did up in that house. The women he kidnapped could never recall what happened. A few even got up the courage to ask him for help when horrified families or husbands turned them and the children out. He threatened to drown them.”

“Jesus.”

“My feelings exactly. Kepler harbors strange things. Some say evil things. They think that it rots anything it touches” Stern glances in the direction of Duck’s house, “Regardless of what forces he called on, I think Alistair Cold was rotten well before he came here. There’s no reason to make others suffer because of that.”

“So you don’t think those, uh, forces are automatically bad?”

“Not at all. Things can be strange to us without that making them evil. In fact, I find such gaps in our understanding fascinating. You’ll let me know if you ever encounter anything unusual up there, won’t you?”

Duck chokes out a “yep” and then tugs Winnie away before Stern can ask any more questions.

—------------------------------------------------------------

It’s bliss to lay on the stone of the balcony while rain plinks on his skin. Indrid knows the constant storms are driving Duck up the wall, but he rather likes the damp, grey air. No birds are calling right now, but he can hear the shrieks of the McElroy children playing in the front garden. Duck had watched them as a favor to his nearest neighbors; their carriage had run off the road near Duck’s home and the wife had to accompany her husband to the doctor for a broken leg. When the children returned home hale and happy, the family was more willing to take Duck up on the offer to send them to play on his land whenever they wished.

Indrid stays inside on those days, as it would doubtless alarm the boys to see him, even in his current, somewhat human form.

That reminds him; he should show Duck that he’s almost able to make his hands look like they belong to a man.

Hours pass and the children depart before he finally rises and slips inside the warmth of the house. Duck is in the kitchen, frying fish in a pan while toast cooks on the rack. There’s a chocolate tart from the baker in town sitting on the counter and Indrid is very much looking forward to eating it.

It will soothe him after the conversation they’re about to have. It’s one he’s known was coming since Duck returned from town a few weeks ago looking rather grim.

As the human sets dinner on the table, he says, “‘Drid? What exactly did you and Mr. Cold do?”

“At first it was simply conversation. He had found a book containing the secrets and the language of the depths, and by summoning me hoped to achieve a greater understanding. I assumed our interests were alike in that we each wished to know more of a world that was otherwise inaccessible to our kind. For two years, I would guide him through spells and help him devise formulas to combine human science with my abilities. He was so pleased with our work together that he would say I was like the son he never had and he was glad to know me.”

Indrid picks up a fish and eats it because it’s something to do as the memories swarm him, “then one night he called me up and there was a woman in the laboratory with him. I was so excited, I wanted to meet more humans than him and his manservant. He knew this. But when I emerged it was in the form in which you first saw me and she screamed so loudly I panicked and dove back into the water. She was there the next night, too, but offering her this form did not calm her in the slightest. Nor did Alistair's insistence that I touch her.” He curls in on himself at the memory, “I refused and we argued and he shoved me back into the water and locked the hatch. A few nights later he tried again, this time with someone who was asleep when I emerged. He tried to tell me it was alright, that I could do as I wished. I wished to do nothing at all. I may live at the bottom of the ocean, but I was not born yesterday.”

Duck looks visibly relieved at this confession.

“After that night, it all changed. I was forbidden from leaving the pool, and Alistair would only summon me to scrape secretions from my tentacles or pull my teeth and I would let him because I hoped, foolishly, that we would see eye to eye once more and he would no longer be angry.” His claws scrape on the table, “I am glad he is dead.”

The human reaches over and takes his hand, “I’m so fuckin sorry, ��Drid. You deserve better than that.”

His frill ripples as he looks at Duck, “Yes. Yes, I believe I do.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

He knows humans get ill. Indeed, one of Alistair's lies to him was that their research would help cure human ailments. But knowing they get sick and seeing his human laid up in bed are two painfully different things.

Duck insists it’s just a mild flu, but Indrid insists on him resting as much as possible so it does not get worse. This does leave him to tend the house and make food for them both himself, but so far he’s managing.

Today he is making chicken soup, and has followed all directions except for how to dismember the chicken; the knife seemed unnecessary given his claws. It’s been simmering on the stove while he goes and makes sure Winnie’s stable and hay are still covered after last night's wind (and to feed her the sugar cube he always sneaks her).

He has to slip back inside through the kitchen door, as the neighbor’s children are at the front one they’ve gone, he retrieves the basket they left on the steps. He can still hear them laughing and shouting down the road when he takes Duck’s tray up to him.

“Sustenance!”

Duck smiles groggily at him, “Thanks, ‘Drid. Was someone at the door?”

“Clint’s boys. They left us this along with a note saying they hope you feel well soon.” He holds up a jar of honey.

“That was nice. Kids’re nice.”

“Indeed.” Indrid sits in the wooden chair by the bed, “do you want children?”

“Yeah. And no? Don’t wanna have ‘em. People’d see me wrong. But a family could be nice.” Feverish, green eyes turn on him, “you?”

“From what you have told me I may already have some that I was not privy to the creation of.” He sneakily summons a cool tentacle to wipe sweat from Ducks’ brow, “beyond that…I do not know. My kind are few, and the last time I ran into a deep one who looked like me he tried to eat me.”

“Cause you're so sweet.”

“I suspect I taste like fish.” Indrid pours him a new glass of water before realizing the true meaning of what Duck said. He decides to leave it be, not wanting to read too much into what the human says while feverish, and adds, “now, eat up so you can be well and take me for a walk on the beach as you promised.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

Duck’s definitely over his flu, but he took today easy due to still feeling a bit wobbly on his feet. Indrid left him a note saying he’d be spending most of the day in the sea. Duck’s glad; the merman spends as much, if not more, time at the surface with Duck than he does in the depths, and Duck has a nagging fear that one day he’ll spend too long on land and get sick.

He turns in early, reading under the covers while the wind howls. When the tell-tale ding echoes from below him, he calls out to let Indrid know where he is.

“You have a nice day?” Duck asks as the merman enters the room.

“Mmm”

Duck looks up at the whimpered answer. The first surprise is that the translucent patches on Indrid’s chest have turned into shining, pulsing scales. The second is that Indrid doesn’t sit once he reaches the bed. Instead he pulls the covers aside and wiggles under, pressing his front to Duck’s left side.

“‘Drid? You ok-”

“No. No I am not. Being away from you all day has been agony. Every fiber of me ached until this moment.” He nuzzles closer, clicking and trilling, “and I do not know why my form changed without my permission. Perhaps it was caring for you these last few days but I, I” his claws fist into Duck’s shirt, “I cannot think of anything but claiming you.”

Duck’s not sure which is stranger; that Indrid seems so distressed at the idea, or that Duck can’t imagine not opening his legs for him right now.

He rolls onto his side, draws a finger along the new scales and gets a trill in reply, “Darlin’, is that your way of sayin you wanna fuck me?”

Indrid’s frill fans out, “It does not need to be that! Just holding you is enough for, for now.”

The red and black on his skin is swirling like storm clouds, and Duck smooths his palm along a patch, “And what happens when it ain’t?”

Indrid chirp-burbles something in his native tongue.

“Didn’t quite catch that.” He hazards a grope to Indrid’s thigh.

“Then I hold you down and do things to you humans do not want!” Indrid covers his face with his hands, “Worse still is that I want them, I want you but I know such acts with me are repulsive.”

Duck takes both hands, easing them away from Indrid’s face and kissing the webbing between the fingers, “Not to me they ain’t. Not when it’s with you, the fella who’s fuckin captivatin’ to look at and makes me laugh and still gets so damn excited when he sees the rabbits playin’ in the grass.”

“You would truly let me mate with you?”

“Long as it don’t produce anything, then yeah.”

Indrid shakes his head and nudges Duck onto his back, “I have looked at every conceivable future and in none of them do we create offspring. Indeed, I suspect what Alistair hit upon might be the only way I could have children with a human. All of which is to say: please take off your clothes.”

Duck laughs at the formality but obeys. The instant he’s naked in the lamplight, more parts of Indrid’s body than make sense begin rippling and twitching.

“Such a handsome human. Let us see what I have in store for you.” He leans down, bracketing Duck with his arms, and kisses him soundly. With his eyes closed, it’s as if Duck is feeling se spray on his lips, and when he wraps his arms around the merman and toys with his frill, the kiss deepens. It’s only when he feels something hard pressing into each thigh that he breaks it to look down.

Indrid now has a second set of arms, more shelled than scaled, and is using them to force his thighs farther apart.

“Do you like them? I feel they will be necessary to keep my mate from running off. And to make certain he takes all I have to offer.”

Duck moans at the menace in his voice, “And what do you have to offer, darlin?”

Indrid dips his head in reply and Duck looks lower to see the skin and scales of his groin rippling. Then reality jolts for a moment and something singularly unusual is extending towards him. Indrid’s cock is thick and flexible, with a ribbed line running down the lower third of it.

“Holy fuck.”

“Is it still alright?”

Were it attached to anyone else, he’d say no. But right now his body is sending all his blood south at the thought of Indrid being so far inside him.

“Hell yeah it is.”

The scales on Indrid’s chest pulse, “Wonderful. Because I am out of patience.”

Duck yelps as Indrid lunges forward, kissing him and sinking his cock into him at the same time. The shaft barely fits, and every time Indrid snaps his his there’s a thud as it bottoms out.

“Ohhhhhh you are delightful.” Indrid trills as he forces Duck’s hips wider, the sound turning muffled as the merman kisses a hungry line down his neck to his chest. For a moment Duck fears the attention to his chest will prove too much, but Indrid contents himself with a possessive bite to each side before gliding his mouth back up to suck bruises into his collarbone.

“Fuck, ‘Drid, this is fuckin amazing, you feel so goddamn good uh, what, what’s that.” He squirms as something presses between his asscheeks.

“It seems my form adapts to fill as many holes as are present.”

“I ain’t ever had somethin-AH, oh, ohfuck” he bucks his hips as the second dick works it’s way in. There’s a strange pressure and heat to it, but it’s narrow and soft enough that he gets a shudder of pleasure instead of pain.

“That’s it, dearest, there is no need to fuss. I know how to take care of you. My heart, my soul, my very form will do whatever is needed to win and keep you.” Indrid grins down at him, licking his lips, “you were made to be laid in.”

Duck whimpers at the implication and tries to spread his legs wider.

“Does that excite you sweet one? That my kind need somewhere warm and willing in order to lay a clutch?”

“Didn’t, didn’t even occur to me that’d happen. I, will, it won’t hurt right?”

A loving nibble to his throat, “Not at all. In fact I foresee you very much enjoying it. Which is excellent timing.”

Duck gasps as something soft yet solid emerges from the tip of Indrid’s cock. A moment later it’s inside him, rubbing against him as Indrid fucks him with increased vigor.

“Yes, yesyes, that’s a good mate, there’s plenty more where that came from and you will take them all.” Both cocks pulse once, but only the one in the front produces another egg, “nnnf, this, this is selling me on the idea of a large family with you. Lots of space, plenty of money, we have all we need to care for several broods.”

“Ohgod, ohfuck, Indrid” the fantasy heats his blood as another egg pushes in.

“I’d take care of everything, look after them and the house if you decided to work. Mmm” he gropes Duck’s ass as the cock there fucks him deeper, “I do love the idea of you going into town bearing the proof of our evenings together. Everyone would see I’d claimed you. I would be the envy of the town once they knew you spread your legs whenever I wanted to breed you.”

“Fuuuck” He closes his eyes, losing himself in the image of Indrid on his arm in town, preening whenever someone notices the bites on his throat. The cock between his legs ripples, and now he’s full enough that it can’t fit all the way in when Indrid thrusts. The ridges and bumps of it catch his own cock, dragging him towards orgasm.

“Oh” Indrid’s sigh bubbles out of him, “look at you. So handsome, such a lovely husband to take me until you’re stuffed full.”

He cums at that, tightening around Indrid and digging his heels into the blankets. The merman is on him before he’s finished moaning, rolling them on their sides and releasing his thighs in favor of grabbing his ass and hips and forcing him closer.

“I am not done with you, sweet one, so hold on tightly until I am through.”

Duck cries out as two more eggs pulse into him, Indrid only fucking him rougher as they do. The mer is everywhere, fucking him deep and splitting him open and sinking his teeth into his neck until there’s a trilling, watery cry and he cums so hard inside Duck that the force and the volume of the cum pushes his cock free.

The other cock retreats as they pant in each others arms, Indrid’s frill rising and falling in time with his breath.

Duck raises his face form where he’s hidden it in Indrid’s neck, “You mean it when you called me your husband?”

“I did. If you would have me.”

He kisses his jaw, “You know I will. And not just because you fucked me so well I saw god.”

—-----------------------------------------

Spring in Kepler is still rainy, but the cluster of children waiting on the steps of what is now called Beacon House are all safely tucked beneath umbrellas. For those whose families did not abandon them, they will only be staying at the school until the afternoon before returning home (Aubrey will be teaching some classes and also driving the cart back to town). For those with nowhere else to go, they will be moving into the house for the foreseeable future.

The group–eight in total–scurries across the threshold when Aubrey ushers them in. Mr. Newton waits for them at the foot of the stairs, smiling and genial in his brown suit.

“We all here? Good. Mornin’ y’all. We're gonna get you settled into your rooms real soon. Uh, if you’re stayin here that is. If you ain’t, Aubrey will take you into the library so you can keep warm and read while the others put their things away. But before that, I want you to meet your other teacher”

He gestures to the man coming down the stairs. A red scarf covers his neck, and all but his face and hands are covered by his black suit.

“Mr. Cold here is gonna teach you some things Aubrey and I can’t. And make you feel right at home too.”

Still on the steps, Mr. Cold looks down at the children and smiles, ruby- tinted glasses slipping just enough to reveal glowing, red eyes.

#indruck #mermay #indrid cold/duck newton #trans duck newton #terato #monster boyfriend #human/monster romance #merman boyfriend #eldritch boyfriend #duck x indrid

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claraswritings · 2 years

Text

I Want You To Want Me

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: llanguage, a reference to period typical attitudes to sexuality but nothing extensive, erm making out…and Reader is Chrissy’s sister. Unbeta’d so if you see any spelling errors - no you didn’t. I’ll correct them later

Summary : Robin likes Chrissy, Jason likes Chrissy - Chrissy can’t date until her sister does. Inspired by 10 Things I Hate About You

Notes: 1. I have never written Eddie before and I’m nervous to post this… And 2. I am not from the US and my knowledge of the school system is basic . Reader, Eddie, Jason and Robin- last year of high school. Chrissy - one year below.

***

Robin had toyed with asking the pretty girl in the romance section if she needed help at least six times since she’d entered Family video ten minutes ago and now as she watched as the girl check her watch and headed for the exit, she was kicking herself

“Bye,” Robin muttered as she returned the girls wave and resisted the urge to drop her head to the counter.

“Say Steve?” She kept her eyes on the door for customers but tilted her head back, calling for her co-worker.

“Yeah?” Steve appeared from around the corner where he was re stocking the horrors.

“What’s the deal with…Chrissy Cunningham?” Robin’s voice dropped just low enough so that only Steve could hear her even though it was only the two of them in the store.

“I thought you’d know her, she’s one grade below you right?” Steve slid over the counter narrowly avoiding the stack of VHS tapes. He regained his composure, straightened his vest and started manually scanning them back in.

Robin rolled her eyes. She’d told Steve about how she’d developed a crush on a girl at school but hadn’t exactly mentioned who despite Steve’s pestering and now, he was being completely oblivious “No dingus…I mean…”

Steve held up his hands “Oh you mean…” he scratched his jaw as he thought. Due to him being a few years apart from Chrissy, he’d never really spoken to her. “I don’t know.” He answered.

You on the other hand had only been one grade below him and he remembered you. He’d been there when you’d reversed into Tommys new convertible deliberately and when you’d punched Curt Baxter so hard he’d wound up with six stitches in his lip. Tina had told the new kids you were a witch and they’d believed her.

You did little to shake the anti-social loser label. Your reputation preceded you so much so that now people left you alone and Steve sensed that was how you liked it.

“Erm… either way…don’t even think about it,” he dropped his voice “Chrissy can’t date until her sister does,”

“Her sister as in…” Robin knew of you, you were in the same Spanish and Math classes and she had seen you in action.

“Yep.” Steve nodded “Their mom doesn’t want Chrissy dating. So there’s a rule,” he gestured with one of the empty boxes. “She can’t until [Name] does, so um… my advice? Move on,” Steve clapped his friend on the shoulder before moving back to scanning in the returns.

“No come on, Steve, I need to just talk to her… I need to know if there’s even the slightest chance… please,” Robin leant forward and yanked one of the tapes out of his hands. “Please?” She pressed.

Steve sighed “Fine, look you didn’t hear this from me but her sister was in here the other day with Ellen Evans talking about how their mom won’t let Chrissy focus on her French because she’s pushing her with the cheerleading so much and now she’s failing and well… you’re like crazy good with languages…”

“Oh my god Steve, that’s perfect!” Robin handed him back the VHS. “I owe you one!”

“Can you cover me on Thursday? Lynn wants to go-,”

Robin groaned “Absolutely not, Harrington,” she cut off Steve before he could elaborate on his date. “We’re still forgetting one obvious problem…Who can we get to take out…[Name]?”

“Oh no. Nonono, not me” Steve shook his head before Robin could ask him for that to be her favour. “Trust me, If she made Carol cry once, she’ll eat me alive… plus I doubt I’m her type.”

He bit his tongue, wracking his brain for potential dates. “Leave it with me. I’ll have a list,”

***

Within ten minutes Steve’s already short list had been whittled down to zero. Steve balled the list up and threw it into the bin.

“I told you it’s a lost cause.”

The familiar chime of the door went off and Robin looked over at the new releases. The guy who’d walked in was tall with long dark hair and was wearing a denim vest covered in patches for bands she’d never heard of over a leather jacket.

“What about him?” Robin tilted her head.

“Eddie the freak Munson?” Raising an eyebrow Steve considered it. He’d never seen you have any clashes with him so that was a start. Eddie definitely wasn’t one of the popular kids you hated so he’d at least be able to talk to you without getting the full brunt of your angry bitch attitude plus Dustin seemed to think he was great. Maybe he could be an option

“Actually… you know, it just might work but you need a way in…like offer him something…you can’t just ask him that, he needs to get something from it…”

“Free rentals?” Instantly Robin stopped herself “Nah we need…something more…Money! we need money…” she looked over at Steve who was drumming a hand on the counter “We could pay him?”

“With what money? My dads practically cut me off so I can’t pay…” he muttered “There’s gotta be someone who can at that school…”

Robin considered it. “I saw Chrissy getting into Jason Carvers’ car yesterday… I mean he’s into her and he’s rich… and stupid” Robin pointed out “But we need someone who can talk to him, I can’t..” she looked down then up at Steve “obviously.”

Steve nodded, understanding his friends worry. “Yeah of course, look Lucas knows Jason right. He can tell Jason about the whole Chrissy dating when [Name] does right? Then he suggests,” Steve nodded his head over at Eddie “Jason will buy it cause it comes from Lucas right? He likes Lucas, I’ll talk to Lucas, I’ll say it’s a friend but not you, okay? I’ll tell him it’s like Keith or something.”

Robin considered it for a moment before she gave Steve a small smile “Thank you.” She paused “But I’m still not covering you on Thursday,”

****a few days later****

“Hey,”

You looked up from your book and found Eddie Munson sitting opposite you as casual as he liked, like he always sat there. Acting like you were the best of friends.

“Hello.” You retuned his greeting, waiting for the big reveal.

You closed your book, confused as to why he was suddenly talking to you. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him. You didn’t know him other than he’d occasionally go on eccentric rants at lunch baiting the likes of the basketball team and earning him nicknames like freak and weirdo from the popular table.

“Can I help you” Was this a strange joke, you wondered as you folded your arms.

“I’m Eddie, How are you?” He was still grinning at you like you were long lost friends, one leg up on another empty chair.

“Pissed off and sweating my ass off because this schools run by tightasses who won’t turn on the aircon and in about ten minutes I have to go listen to Ms Jenkins teach us Hemingway. Yourself?”

“You sure know how to charm a guy don’t you,” Eddie raised an eyebrow and leant over the table slightly. His hand, casually twisted a leather band on his other wrist and you drew your eyes back up to meet his.

“Really? I have? Well consider that my life goal accomplished.” You clasped your hand to your heart with a smirk “But then again you’re here so clearly, I do have something you want,”

“So the graffiti in the boys is right”

He’d heard enough about you that he been popular and said similar he’d end up wearing your lunch but coming from him… you laughed, in what was probably the first time he’d ever heard you do so.

“I paid one of the newbies 5 bucks to scratch that off” the expression was on your face was straight-laced but he could tell you weren’t serious.

“I’d have done it for free.” He grinned at you, full smile on show.

“A gentleman.” You joked and stood up, pulling your bag over your shoulder. “I’m touched.”

“Will I see you Friday then?” Eddie was up and at your side within a few seconds, following you out of the cafeteria, hoping that came out smoother than it sounded.

“Friday? What do you mean?” You stopped in your tracks confused, giving him time to get in front of you.

“Some kid is having a party. I don’t think it’s completely his idea…You going?” Eddie passed you a scrunched up leaflet in a harsh orange.

The idea of party with half of the students at Hawkins High was not his idea of fun. He’d planned on swinging by, only to make some cash selling to meat heads at double the price.

“And you think I’m interested in going to a party with the people who go here? Im surprised you are.” You looked up at him, catching his eye as he pulled a face. A smirk found it’s way across your lips “Ohh.” You clicked “Gotcha. Gotta do what you gotta do.”

The thought of drunk popular kids shelling out daddies money to a fellow outcast made you smile.

He looked side to side before his expression softened a little. The corridor was quiet, just the two of you and a few of the kids who ran the newspaper down the other end. They were too engaged in their own conversation to pay you any attention.

“You’re not scared of me are you?” He asked as if he was genuinely curious.

“No..why? Should I be?” The nonchalance in your voice was evident. You knew the rumours but given that you’d had your fair share of them about you, it was pretty clear that chances of him being in some sort of sacrificial cult was zero.

“Look, forget the party. I don’t care…Let’s just do something” he carded a ringed hand through his dark hair.

“I’ll think about it.” You pressed the leaflet back to him with a half smile tweaking in your cheeks. You’d le lying if you said you didn’t enjoy this casual back and forth. “See you around.”

“I can pick you up” he asked again.

You chuckled a little at his forwardness. “I’m going to a gig on Friday. All-women rock band from out of town… It’s at…” you gestured “this small dive bar, Radleys… It finishes at ten. You can meet me after it.”

****Friday****

Eddie had been watching you from the bar for at least fifteen minutes. The music, whilst not completely awful, was not his thing so he’d instead occupied himself by just watching you. You looked so happy, such a far cry from your stoic attitude within the walls of Hawkins High that he couldn’t help but smile. It was you and the one other girl he’d seen you with sometimes, an arty girl, Ellen.

You were in purple pants with black blouse tied off at the waist due to the humidity of the bar and your hair which had been semi back combed was coming out of its hair grip from how you’d been dancing. Your mascara had smudged under your eyes but you’d never looked hotter. Whilst he watched you move to the music, he wondered if maybe you’d come to a Corroded Coffin gig to watch him. Maybe he’d ask you.

He waited for the guests to dwindle down and the band to begin an encore before making his way over

“Excuse me…”Eddie looked from you to Ellen. “I’m meeting a friend here…Have you seen her?”

You looked up at him and bit your tongue “I heard she’s a bit of a bitch,”

“You’ve misheard. I can tell you…incase you see her…she looks beautiful.”

At that moment, the bands encore was complete and Eddies compliment reverberated around the room, causing you to bring your palm to your face to conceal your laughter.

“So are you coming to hang out with me or do you just want a lift to the totally cool party,” Eddie adopted a poor impression of some of the cooler kids for the last four words and you laughed.

“I’ll…,” you hesitated, lingering on the words “let you decide.”

“I have an idea.” Eddie said. “Right this way, my lady,”

You waved a goodbye to Ellen who was tipsy and climbing in the back of her boyfriends pick up before turning back to him.

“Lead the way, good sir,” you gestured in a royal wave as he reciprocated by offering his arm in an over dramatic way.

A short drive later and Eddie had entered a trailer park and pulled up outside of one towards the middle before jumping out and helping you.

“You live here?” You asked, surveying the outside casually as you flopped into one of the chairs outside of the trailer as Eddie handed you a can of his uncles beer under the assurance that he wouldn’t mind. Your tone was one of curiosity more than derision, which was a welcome change.

He’d seen the house you lived in, big open plan kitchen, wrap around patio and big bay windows. This was a far cry from anything the Cunninghams were used to. If he ever drove down your street, he would not be surprised if some of the elderly curtain twitchers took down his plates or called the police at the out of place van.

“Yeah, with my uncle. I’ll give you a tour later if you like… Uncle Wayne works nights so I have the place to myself a lot, I know it’s not exactly a suburban dream but what do you expect.” Eddie shrugged and slid into the seat beside you, slouching down and cracking open a can for himself.

“Actually I think it’s pretty cool.” You shrugged and leant back, the look of surprise on Eddies face did not go unnoticed. “I wouldn’t mind getting something like this after graduation. I’ll find a job then sort something but I’d need one with a spare room so Chrissy can come stay with me.“

“You two close?”

“Yeah, we always have been… i mean obviously Chrissy’s the golden child. I think our mother gave up with me when I was…” you attempted to recall with a hand wave “I think maybe about 12? I don’t like how much she pushes Chrissy yknow? She doesn’t want her to turn out…like me. She’s my sister, we might be different but I still love her…I want her to have a normal life. Like right now, I’ve asked Ellen from my English class, her mom knows my mom, to say I was at this dumb party so Chrissy can go.”

“And Ellen won’t say you were with me?”

You took a drink and shifted around a little on the chair “She won’t remember, and even if she does…as long as she sticks to the story with her parents…it won’t get back to our mom so…Chrissy’s in the clear. She can say whatever she likes at school, I don’t care”

“You know…” Eddie sat up, placing his can on the rickety plastic table between your chairs looked at you, “I think turning out like you wouldn’t be a bad thing.” Your gaze was trained on him. “I think people have you all wrong.”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing. I don’t think you’re what they say you are,” Your voice was quieter than usual but you made sure he could hear you, you felt it was important. “Not that I take much notice about what they say about me or you or anything, anyway.” you rose your eyebrows and took a drink

“Fuck it. People say all sorts about me. I live in a trailer park, my dads in prison, my mothers…” he stopped “I don’t know where she is…I’ve failed senior year…twice.” he held two fingers up dramatically “they’re going to talk”

“And they think Hellfire is a devil worship group?” Eddie stuck his tongue out dramatically before pulling an exaggerated scary face. He dropped it suddenly with a grin “We just play D&D.”

“You’re playing a game and they think you’re what sacrificing goats or something?” You laughed “God, that’s exactly why I hate high school.”

“Sometimes it’s fun to play up to it, if they’re going to call me a freak or whatever, I might as well go with it,” He bowed dramatically and then smiled at how you were nodding in agreement.

You couldn’t help but warm to him. This was the Eddie that his group were so in awe of and you could see why. Under it all, he was funny and friendly and the right kind of playful that it just put you at ease, you couldn’t help but admire it. He was actually…kind of sweet.

“You should come hang with us sometime.” He offered.

“Do I get to pick my own goat or do you choose?” You quipped making a mock throat slitting before breaking into another laugh. “Am I being recruited!” You clasped your hand to your mouth in a over dramatic display of surprise.

He elbowed you jokingly in the side and your chair toppled back . Within a second Eddie had reached out to stop it, pulling it toward as it balanced perilously on two legs, which made your laugh even louder, so much so one of the lights in the trailer opposite flicked on and an older man peered through the curtain, an annoyed look on his face.

Eddie called out an apology to the other resident and you stifled your laughter, catching your breath. He checked you were okay, only receiving a breathless nod in response.

Suddenly feeling the cold, he leant down and picked up the throw he’d brought from the sofa, passing it to you.

“I mean it. You should.” Eddie offered once more when you were settled under it. “We should hang out again.”

You liked this, just easy conversation under the dim light. The stars more visible here than anywhere in Hawkins. There was something here that just put you more at peace than you’d felt since you could remember.

You rested an arm on his chair and shuffled closer until the throw draped over you both and under the grey fabric, you noticed the first spark as you casually brushed your hand against his, Eddie linked his hands with yours and you savoured the cool silver against your skin as you rested your head in the nook of his shoulder.

“I’d like that.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

He wouldn’t need to. You’d keep good on your word.

****short time skip****

You didn’t know exactly when you realised how much you liked Eddie. If it was the following evening when you went to one of the Hellfire Club nights. The other members had been confused as to your presence but Eddie had told them you were here with him and they’d settled into normal play as usual, even attempting to include you in their conversations. You watched attentively as the other guys were pulled into his campaign, seeing how passionate he was, and enjoying how animated he got when it all started to unfold

You didn’t know if it was the next Friday when you went to watch Crawlspace together at a movie theatre, just the two of you and got thrown out for laughing at how lame it was, and ended up hanging out in the Palace Arcade, trying to cheat the machines that paid out. You ended up just getting food and sitting in the back of his van.

Or if it was you went to watch his band, Corroded Coffin, play at the Hideout. You’d appeared just as he took the stage and due to the crowd being mostly tipsy locals, you got a place by a a table at the front easily. He’d seen you he’d gave you the biggest smile, winked and came off stage to hug you in between songs, loving how much you were getting into it.

If you had to guess it would be the first time he kissed you.

You’d skived off for probably only the second time in your life to go to a paintball arena in a forest just outside of town and that’s how you found yourself crouched behind a bay of hay, scouring the area, trying to wait for the slightest sound of where Eddie might be.

The pair of you were already completely covered in paint splattered overalls but you were now down to your last few and you hadnt seen Eddie in at least ten minutes. Damn, he was good. You popped your head up for a moment to try find him and almost a second later, a paintball went whizzing by you and exploding into vivid blue mere centimetres from your ear.

Deciding to see if you could bait him out, you pretended it had made contact and let out a small yelp. Eddie appeared from behind a hay bale almost as covered at you. “Shit.” You heard him “are you okay?”

His eyes fell on the point of impact against the straw then to you standing, one hand up, crossed fingers held up “Uh-oh, rookie mistake!” as your other hand reached for your bag of paint balloons.

“Ouch.” Eddie clutched his heart, pretending to have been hurt and took on a mock shocked voice “Cheating! What a dirty tactic!”

“Or did you just fall for the oldest trick in the book.” You smirked. “I’ll give you a two second head start.”

“I think…” Eddie stalked towards you and he wiped his hands on his overall. “You owe me…” he paused and his eyes flitted to the blue paint. “A free shot”

Holding your arms out and away from your bag of balloons. “Fair deal…I will take it…”

He took a few steps back threw a bright fuchsia balloon at you, and took off as it exploded on your shoulder. You flinched and when you reopened your eyes, he was gone.

How had you already lost him? You ran after him and rounded a secluded corner. Man, he was quicker than you’d expect.

“Never turn your back.” Eddie’s arms wrapped around your back, and spun you to face him. The movement was a little too quick and you wound up falling backwards, pulling him down with you and landing, cushioned by a hay bale, Eddie on top of you.

“Oops.” You laughed, as you lifted the goggles up and off your face, throwing them to the side.

“You have paint in your hair” Gesturing, you pushed some stray curls back from his face, before taking off his own pair of goggles. He’d made an attempt to tie his hair back into a low bun but it was in vain as his hair was escaping around his face.

“So do you.” Eddie reached up and brushed some dried in green out of your hair

And in that moment, there was a pause, a mutual exchange of understanding before Eddie brought his lips to yours, tilting your chin up with a paint stained thumb and forefinger. Your hand made its way from your side to his hair as he deepened the kiss, moving his other hand from behind you to your hip.

Your other hand found his back and pulled him closer to you, and he squeezed your hip through the overall and you felt yourself warm under his touch. It was such a soft and gentle gesture that you found yourself pulling him down closer to you.

You stayed like that, lips moving in motion against each others, his leg between yours until the sudden sound of people nearby reminded you, you were not alone.

“Eddie…” you muttered against his lips, pecking gently “We should…”

“Get out of here?” Eddie finished your suggestion, a hand coming to rest on your cheek, softly. You savoured the cool silver of his rings against your flushed skin and took a moment before nodding.

“I thought you’d never ask”

With a smile, he pulled you to your feet and took your hand in his.

***

It went on like this for two weeks. Eddie would wave you over to his lunch table and pull you down so you were sat with your legs draped over his, you’d spend your evenings together and sometimes you’d spend the night. Slow, lazy make out sessions had become your routine.

He’d kiss you by your locker and walk to you to your class. The jocks would stare and call the two of you all sorts but he didn’t care.

When he’d accepted Jason’s deal, he’d been expecting you to be different. You were like him in that you were seen as a weirdo, and a social outcast but you weren’t the bitch they painted you out to be.

You were a beautiful person. You were protective of Chrissy, defensive of the art freaks even if you weren’t really friends with them. He’d seen you push Chase against a locker when he’d attempted to harass Dustin Henderson. In being his girl, you’d taken it on yourself to look out for the Hellfire kids. You never judged anything about him or wanted him to be something else. He loved how you just accepted everyone as they were.

You liked feminist poetry, Thai cuisine, and you had a soft spot for arcade games. You read comics, you loved concerts- he knew all the vinyls you owned, and the videos you’d rented. You were brilliant, clever funny and didn’t take any shit. If he was honest, he was kicking himself that he hadn’t spoken to you sooner.

Jason had however asked for one final favour. Get you to go to the latest party so he could take Chrissy. Eddie had told him it was the last time he’d do it and snatched the $100 bill out of his hand, with more force than necessary.

****a few days later ****

Asking you had been easier than expected.

And that’s how you found yourself on the eve of the party, just hanging out in the back of his van outside of one of the cheerleaders homes. Occasionally someone you vaguely knew would come by, knock twice for some baggies but beside that the two of you were left relatively to it.

“I didn’t think you knew this song,” You picked on up the music coming from the tape deck.

Eddie shrugged. “It’s your favourite…you know after you told me that, I listened to it a bit, it’s easy to pick up on…” he mimed an air guitar “So maybe I’ll sing it to you one day…” His hand brushed your hair back before trailing down your arm and linking your hand with his.

You leant in and kissed him. “You know… a few weeks ago that would have been way too soppy for me…”

Eddie grinned back at you “You’re warming to me.”

“Might be.” You quipped giving him a wink, before leaning in to kiss him once more. The kiss grew more passionate, as he used his arms to pull you into him. Lips moving in sync as you wound up lying side by side, his hand on your hip, yours at the bottom of his shirt.

The moment however would not last. A sudden call made you sit up straight.

Jason was calling out as he approached, looking throughly pissed off.

“Oi freak.” He stormed up to Eddies van and stood at the back doors, a furious look on his face “You can forget the rest of the payment. I’m not paying you to suck face with the witch for nothing. Chrissy’s dumped me.”

You felt as if your stomach was about to jump up into your throat and out onto the gravel. You couldn’t even take in that Chrissy had dumped this asshole as your mind still lingered on the bit before that.

“Paid date, huh?” The scorn in your voice was clear. You should have known. You pushed out of the van and began making your way down the street, ignoring Eddie calling after you. He caught up to you quickly and grabbed your arm, spinning you to face him. You wrenched it back.

“Can you let me explain?” He held both of his hands up. “Please.”

Summoning every scrap of nerve you had left, you made yourself look up at him.

“What did you get? Payment now, double for third base, triple if you screw me?” You bit out, with a scoff “Actually you know what…don’t answer that. I don’t want to know…”

All you hoped in this moment was that your face wasn’t as red hot as you felt inside.

“It wasn’t like that! I don’t care about the money…I care about you,”

“No you don’t…You know would never ever have done this to you…even before I knew you.”

His hand went to grab your waist and you pulled back hard. “Can you please just let me-,”

“Enjoy the money. I hope it was worth it. Stay out of my way!”

****the same evening****

“You left early.” Chrissy came in and sat on your bed, “I thought you’d be with Eddie?”

“Oh, we’re… we’re not talking. We broke up…Turns out Jason Carver wanted to get to you so he paid Eddie to go out with me so he never actually liked me.” You got up and flipped your record over to the B-side.

Chrissy was staring at the floor of your room as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders as she let out a sigh.

“When Jason told me one of the guys from the team had found someone for you so he could take me out, I had no idea…” Chrissy began to toy with the hem of her dress. “I told Jason what you liked so he could pass it on, and someone must have told Eddie and I’m sorry…I just really wanted Jason to-“

“Hey…” you reached over and squeezed her hand “None of this is on you. You didn’t know.”

Chrissy stopped, drawing breath “So I’ve been taking French lessons with Robin…Buckley and… she told me her and Steve knew Jason liked me and they came up with the idea to get him to pay your date…so Robin could spend time with me? She and Steve… they thought Jason was just paying the one date…and they thought the rest of it was all you two…”

“Chrissy…” you paused “I don’t care whose idea it was.” Eddie still only went out with me for the money…Asshole move…”

You found yourself processing what your sister said a few minutes late “Wait…you came back with Robin?? Do you like her?” You knew Chrissy liked girls just as much as she liked boys. You’d known since she was 10, but due to your mom latching on to her as the golden child, she’d had kept it between the two of you. Your mom likely would not have been so understanding. “What happened with Jason?”

“I told Jason I didn’t want to see him anymore” Chrissy was quiet. “I found out from Claudine one of the other cheerleaders that had a bet with Chase Harris that he’d…sleep with me tonight…” she trailed off.

“I’m going to kill him.” Instantly you were furious and placated only by her hand on your arm.

“Wait…it’s okay Robin helped me out… she called Steve…Harrington and he took us home and I realised that I actually really like Robin….and she feels the same… She’s so caring and she’s funny and she’s sweet and she’s really hot and-,” she paused, trying to keep her excitement down “I know what people will say so Steve’s going to cover for us… he’s going to say he and Robin are dating if anyone asks…”

Quickly you went over to the door and checked it was shut properly before returning beside her and squeezing her hand. You pulled her into a tight hug without saying anything and when you separated, a smile far more genuine than the one she got over Jason appeared on her face.

“Good for you, Chrissy I’m happy for you… and if anyone says anything… to you or to Robin… tell me.” You warned. “I’ll be only too glad to lay out Jason Carver,”

She laughed and smiled again “No, you don’t have to…All I need is for you to please, if mom asks…”

“I’m still dating Eddie…” you accepted without question. “No problem.”

“You are the best!” She gave you another tight hug, beaming as she did so and made her way to the door to head to her room and no doubt call Robin off the phone from her bedroom. She stopped and looked over her shoulder

“By the way… I don’t think Eddie cared about the money. I think he really likes you.”

***two weeks later****

You spent your lunches and breaks in the art room with Ellen who’d locked the door, you had one class with Eddie of which you decided to skip out.

If you saw him in the corridor, you’d turn and walk in the opposite direction, if you noticed his van was parked near your car, you’d wait until he was gone before going near, you’d resolved to having to ignore him every day until you graduated.

It was getting exhausting and one Friday, desperately in need of switching off, you went into Family Video to rent a cheesy movie to switch off to.

“This one’s personally recommended,” Steve held it out to you, ignoring the quirk of your eyebrow.

“And i know you haven’t seen it. I checked with Chrissy.” Robin tacked on, saving Steve from your questioning.

You’d been visiting every other day since the break up and you’d gotten to know Steve and Robin well enough to have a discussion about the latest releases.

“It doesn’t seem like my type of thing,” you turned the tape over in your hands a few times. “I don’t think I want to watch a romance when I’ve just been through a break up”

“Just…trust us.” You watched as Steve pushed his hair back off his face “If you don’t like it…money back..,oh shit, I shouldn’t mention…I, erm…”

“It’s fine Harrington. You’re alright you know…Chrissy told me what you’re doing for her…and,” your eyes flickered to Robin “Thank you. You’re a good guy.” You handed him the money and the tape for him to get the copy for you.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” He turned his back to you for only moments to fit the contents of the tape.

“Enjoy!” He smiled as he handed it over. You rose your eyebrows and nodded before you left.

“Do you think we sold it?” Robin appeared beside Steve at the counter watching you leave, the glass door still swinging behind you. “Like will she open it?”

“Wait and see… if she returns it and throws it at my head..we’ll know.”

****that evening****

There was no VHS in the box.

You’d wrenched it open the second you got home and found nothing. Well, not nothing. Just a note.

“Come outside at 9pm”- written in Chrissy’s writing. Heart over the ‘i’ included.

This had to be a joke right? Some sort of feel better, literal pity party thrown for you by Chrissy and she’d roped in Robin and Steve.

9pm rolled around quicker than you expected and by 8:58pm you were on the back porch and calling into the darkness.

“Chrissy? What’s going on? What the hell are you…”

The garden was quiet.

“Chrissy?” You called again “Come on this isn’t funny!”

The shuffling of bushes made you jump and you took a few steps back, bracing yourself for whatever was coming, whatever you were expecting… it was not Eddie emerging from behind one of the roses bushes.

“Hey.” He smiled at you and your stomach betrayed you in that it still twisted.

“What do you want?” You asked matter of factly as you folded your arms, feeling exposed “Suppose you asked Chrissy to write that note?”

“You’d never have come if you thought it was me. You’d have told me to fuck off.” Eddie reasoned.

“Yeah” You shrugged and you couldn’t help but laugh “I would have,”. Exhaling, you uncrossed your arms and dropped to sit on the step “Which you can’t blame me for, I don’t know why I’m not saying that now”

Eddie shook his head “Neither do I…look it was a shitty shitty thing to do…but I need you to know I’m sorry…I should have told you,”

He looked from you to his Reeboks and back again. “I know it doesn’t change things but…” Eddie reached into his back pocket and fished out an envelope. “I want…You should have this…”

You quirked an eyebrow and against your better judgement you reached for it. The spark that shot through you when your fingers brushed did not go unnnoticed. Sliding up to open it, you reached in and pulled out the paper inside.

“Concert tickets.” You exhaled seeing the tickets “Are they for me?”

“Yeah…they’re your favourite band and I figured you’d wanna see them live.” Eddie rocked on his shoes, scraping the grass.

“How did you-…”

“I had some extra cash…Some asshole paid me to take out this really great girl…” He took a few casual strides towards you.

“Bet she was pissed.” You smirked one sided, leaning against the post of the porch.

“Mmm-hmmm,” Eddie nodded, his mouth forming into a tight line “You could say I fucked up pretty bad?”

“Oh colossally.”

Another nod, before he took two steps and dropped beside you, keeping a small distance. “Yep…especially as considering I realised…I really like her.”

He diverted his attention to the steps.

“Oh did you?” You tried not to sound surprised.

“Yeah… pretty much from the first evening I spent with her.” Eddies dark eyes were now on yours.

You laughed and he took that as an opportunity to slip one hand around your neck and into your hair and pull you into a kiss. Reciprocating for only a few seconds, you pulled back.

“You know you can’t just buy me concert tickets every time you-…”

“I’ll work my way through your record collection until you’ve seen every band you have?” Eddie joked and pulled you back in for another kiss. “I’m messing around but I know.” He placated.

“You like me too.” He separated, before kissing you once again causing you to roll your eyes slightly even though you were now smiling.

You nodded “Yes. I like you too.”

“Good. Does that mean we can start over?” Eddie asked tracing a thumb over your cheek.

“Yes.” You agreed

“In which case, how do you feel about making out on the first date?” A playful grin appeared on his lips.

You answered him by pulling him back into you sealing his lips with yours.

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x female character #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine

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possumbylight · 1 year

Text

Rose Colored Goggles

A/N: y’all are so cool for liking and reblogging my last post i love you all. anyway here’s another thing that i have previously posted on my ao3 that i’d like to move over to tumblr as well, hope you enjoy!! ;)

Summary: In which the Knights of Favonius, the Anemo Archon, and the Darknight Hero perform an experiment on the Chief Alchemist, all while missing a crucial element that’s hidden in plain sight.

Warnings: None I don’t think? slight drunkenness but that is expected amongst these folks

Pairings: Albedo/Reader, the knights and others as assorted friends because once again i love writing fics where all the characters get to hang out together

The Angel’s Share on a Tuesday night was not the ideal place for those wishing to maintain any pride they harbored for the famed Knights of Favonius. Should any inquiring minds visit the tavern on that particular night, they might find, to their horror, that the Knights were not windswept heroes of legend, but common drunks who bantered and argued with the bartender until he threw them out by their coattails and reminded them not to puke on the cobblestone outside his fine establishment, so they might not scare other patrons away.

Tuesday night was the least likely night for heavy drinking amongst the Mondstadt population, should there be any night that Mondstadt did not prefer drinking, but it was the most likely time for the Dawn Winery’s master himself to make an appearance behind the bar, and thus an ideal opportunity for certain members of the Knights’ ranks to pay a friendly visit—or rather, bother—Master Diluc until he gripped a wine bottle so tight it threatened to crack.

It was his fault, though, for returning every other Tuesday to be subjected to such nonsense.

“I asked him to describe his ideal woman, of course,” Lisa supplied as the end to her story, sending the knights around her into laughter and groans at the very idea. “Timaeus was so red he could hardly breathe. He looked like a tomato.”

“Oh, poor Timaeus,” Jean lamented, though the other knights hardly shared her sentiments. “You know how flustered he gets, Lisa.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen the Chief Alchemist get flustered,” Kaeya lamented, planting his face in his palm as he leaned heavily on the bar. “Tell me, Albedo, with all the romantic attention you receive, surely someone has managed to make you blush.”

Albedo, barely aware of the conversation at hand but all the same adamant to willfully ignore Kaeya’s salacious suggestion that he was the recipient of any amount of romantic attention, merely furrowed his brow and stared past his cup at something the other knights could not perceive.

“Speaking of romantic attention,” Venti swooned after loudly gulping down the remaining contents of his glass, “a little birdie told me that Donna—”

“Quiet, bard,” Diluc ordered with seething vitriol, but the bard had little regard for Diluc’s discomfort.

“—brought a whole bouquet of flowers to your door the other day. Are you going to send her a thank you? I could write a poem for you to gift her, in exchange for a little off the top of my tab, of course—”

“No, I won’t require your services. And while we’re on the topic of your tab—"

“I don’t believe I am capable of such a thing,” Albedo finally responded, interrupting whatever Diluc had been planning to threaten, much to Venti’s delight but to the confusion of the other knights.

Venti hardly missed a beat, replying, “I’m sure you could write a poem if you tried, Mister Albedo, no one is incapable of making art.”

“No, I am referring to the prior conversation. I don’t believe I am capable of blushing.”

Kaeya’s mouth dropped open as though the alchemist had just shared with him the secrets of life and the universe, but Rosaria maintained a flat aspect, sipping politely at her drink until the commotion from Albedo’s comment settled.

“He’s probably right. I’ve never seen him go red, even in the cold of Dragonspine. If that doesn’t make him flushed, I doubt any foolhardy romantic advances would be able to do it.”

“Though it is true that I bleed when injured, I have yet to study the patterns of my internal blood dispersion beyond its basic course through my heart.”

“Albedo, everyone bleeds when injured. Stop talking like you’re mechanical.”

“Yes, of course,” Albedo agreed with little hesitation before excusing himself from the bar, returning his glass of tap water to the bartender as he wandered off, muttering under his breath about veins and ventricles and all form of scientific babble that the other knights were simply too drunk to process.

“Well, I for one would like to make a bet,” Kaeya announced as soon as the door had clicked shut. “A competition, of sorts. Any takers?”

“I’m in.”

“Venti,” Lisa cooed from beside the bard, startling him as though he hadn’t known she had been there the whole time. “You haven’t even heard the stakes.”

“Yeah, but Kaeya’s fun. And if I can earn a little extra drinking money, then why not?”

“You won’t be drinking until you can pay off your tab,” Diluc reminded. “And knowing Kaeya, it’s a bet in which he’ll have an unfair advantage. He only makes bets he knows he can win.”

“Now, now, Diluc. That’s rather unkind, don’t you think? I don’t have any advantage here, aside from my charm.”

Rosaria scoffed, “Get on with it. What’s the bet?”

“First to find out what makes the alchemist blush gets free drinks every Tuesday night for a month, courtesy of the losers of the bet.”

“I thought we established that he can’t blush.”

“We haven’t established anything. Albedo himself said that he was unsure. So, who’s to say that he doesn’t get flustered at all?”

The group was pensive for a moment, weighing the prospect of putting Albedo in potentially uncomfortable situations when they respectively found him either highly respectable, strange and off-putting, or possibly dangerous given cause. But, one by one, they all silently agreed that the reward was worth the risk, and hummed their approval of Kaeya’s idea.

“I’m in,” Diluc finally spoke aloud, startling the whole bunch.

“Why, Master Diluc, that surprises me. Could it be that you have an unfair advantage here? And tell me this—should you win, however doubtful that outcome may be, do you intend to take advantage of our good nature to buy you free drinks that you won’t even consume?”

“If I win, you’re all giving me a month of peace and quiet. Every Tuesday night, you’re staying home or finding someone else to bother. Go to the Cat’s Tail, I don’t care, just don’t come here.”

“Interesting. I accept the terms of your agreement. Shall we drink to it, then?”

And thus, Albedo was in for the most confusing week of his already strange life.

Jean had hardly been paying attention to the conversation at the bar, and she certainly didn’t have time to be playing into Kaeya’s meddling games, but when the opportunity presented itself, she could hardly pass up the opportunity to save some mora at the Angel’s Share. Albedo was hardly ever at HQ in person, after all.

“Good morning, Albedo,” she greeted, knowing full well that her tone was abnormal as she fought to find a natural way of introducing her theory, but also knowing that Albedo, intelligent beyond reason as he was, was not particularly well-versed in conversation.

“Ah. Good morning, Acting Grand Master. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you could help me find Sucrose. Have you seen her this morning?”

“Sucrose,” Albedo mused aloud as he pressed a hand to his chin in thought. “I have not seen Sucrose for a few days. It is likely she is in her room, studying bones or some other organic matter. If you need to speak with her immediately, I recommend knocking on her door, as it’s unlikely that she will reemerge until the end of the week, at least.”

“Oh. I see. Thank you, Albedo.”

“You’re welcome.”

With that, Albedo continued on his way down the library stairs until he was almost hidden from sight, pulling dusty tomes from ancient corners that hardly anyone but Lisa’s apprentice ever touched. Jean watched as he greeted Lisa's assistant, asking her a question Jean could not discern, and pointing towards a book on the upper shelf.

“Was that your attempt at winning the bet?” Lisa sighed as she emerged from behind her desk. “Oh, dear. You really don’t know much about him at all, do you?”

“Does anyone?”

“That is the question, isn’t it? But I’m far more interested in the little exchange that just occurred. Were you under the impression that Albedo is overly fond of Sucrose?”

“I just wondered. They work so closely together sometimes that I thought perhaps there might be some feelings there.”

“Hmm, no, I don’t believe so. He can be protective of her, the shy little thing, but it’s hardly romantic.”

“Well, what’s your grand plan, then?” Jean asked, defensive of her own tactics even as she realized that she had marvelously failed in plain sight of Lisa. “How do you plan to win the bet?”

“You think I haven’t made anyone blush before?”

“Lisa, please don’t make him uncomfortable. If he resigns, there won’t be anyone qualified to replace him.”

Albedo had thought nothing of the exchange with Jean—it was perfectly reasonable for the Acting Grand Master to inquire about the location of one of her knights—so he had gone about his business in the library and headed straight for the section under the stairs, where he frequently found the most appealing books on the origins of natural species, as well as the librarian’s assistant.

“Good morning, y/n. How are you?” he asked politely, trying not to startle her as she reached up to secure a hefty encyclopedia into its designated spot.

“Good morning, Albedo,” she sighed. As soon as she had settled properly back onto her feet, her hand swept a cloud of dust onto the top of her head which briefly made her cough. “I’m alright, but I think I’ll have to put off my alphabetization of the fiction section until I can finish dusting these shelves.”

“I see. It seems I am alone in my interest of these topics, then?”

“Just about. Sometimes, Cyrus will come in to study for a specific commission, but you’re the only one in the past fifty years who has checked out—” here, she paused, squinting at the title he had returned only a few days prior, “—The Anemo Archon’s Aviary: A Comprehensive Study on Local Wind Patterns, Development of Localized Bird Species, and How Anemo Affects Avian Wildlife.”

“A fascinating read,” he chuckled. “I would recommend it, if you have the time.”

“I’ll put it on my list, but I promised Fischl that I would finish reading that fantasy series she’s been telling me about.”

Just as Albedo was about to agree, perhaps adding some remark about what the prinzessin’s dramatic reaction might be should y/n not heed her decree, the click of Lisa’s heels turned the conversation towards the librarian herself, stepping grandly down the stairs with one hand tracing the banister and the other holding a purple rose.

“Funny seeing you here, Albedo,” Lisa intoned as she swept into the conversation with ease. “Have you come to pester my little assistant again? I’m distraught that you didn’t come to greet me first. How is a lady supposed to feel when a handsome gentleman caller pays her no mind?”

“I apologize, Miss Lisa. In all honesty, I did not realize that you were here.”

“Hmm, you’ve always got your mind on something fascinating, don’t you? I would love to hear all about it, dear, but I do have a question for you, if you don’t care to hear me out.”

“Of course.”

As Albedo turned his attention fully to Lisa in preparation of her inquiries, y/n excused herself with an awkward, pardon me, and returned to replacing all the books on her cart.

Lisa turned over the rose in her hands, allowing Albedo to take it in from all angles as she eased him into light conversation about basic alchemical principles and natural floral phenomena. It wasn’t the conversation that she intended to use to leverage some reaction from him, but her own actions, motivations, and physicality that she hoped might dust his cheeks even the slightest bit red.

“I understand your concern,” Albedo mused, hardly noticing one bit when Lisa began drifting ever closer towards him. “The forests of Sumeru experience dense rain and fog during all seasons, providing the soil with an intense moisture that simply cannot be recreated by any natural climate of Mondstadt. However, many roses of this quality do grow in the temperate hills. If you were to start a garden just outside the Mondstadt gates, I predict that your roses would grow quite well.”

“Interesting.” Lisa swept her hand across the uncovered skin between Albedo’s coat and gloves, skillfully masking the gesture as an accident. “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie, I didn’t mean to—oh, your skin in marvelously soft, Mister Albedo. How do you manage that in the cold of Dragonspine?”

“Hmm, I am unsure.”

Albedo jotted down a few simple notes for Lisa to take with her— instructions on the best conditions for growing Sumeru roses outside of Sumeru—and pressed onto the next inquiry she had asked of him. She continued running her fingers across the band of skin on his upper arm. When he did not flinch or fluster, she pressed closer.

“Miss Lisa, is there something else I can do for you?”

“Does it make you uncomfortable that I watch while you work?”

“No, not at all. You are free to stay, if you wish. But I may require some measure of concentration.”

“Concentration?” she gasped, eyebrows raised. “You certainly seem like a man with indomitable focus. I wonder, though, what kind of enticing situation might distract a man like you?”

As if to answer her question, he did not respond, fully immersed in his work and entirely shut off to the outside world. Lisa’s ruse went on for at least the next half hour. She would ask a question, often a flirtation disguised as innocent inquiry, and Albedo would respond with genuine interest in her query and not an ounce of heed for her more lascivious intentions.

“How did it go?” Jean asked, more excitable about the whole ordeal than she had meant to be.

“Miserable. The man is made of rock, or steel, or brick. He’s dead to the world.”

“Surely that’s an exaggeration.”

“I tried everything. He had no response for me.”

“Perhaps you’ve lost your charm, Miss Lisa.”

“Don’t push your luck, Acting Grand Master.”

Rosaria wanted to drink, free of charge, and that was the only reason she was doing anything so stupid as trekking through the cold of Dragonspine, up towards Albedo’s lab, Sister Barbara in tow.

“Why would Mister Albedo require my assistance?” Barbara’s teeth chattered as she spoke, and she pulled her arms in close to her chest to bar off the cold. “He has never requested healing before.”

“I don’t know. He just told me to bring you up the mountain with me.”

Rosaria was lying. She was outside of church grounds, so it didn’t really matter how honest she was when Bartobas wasn’t watching. It did, however, give her an uncomfortable chill to know that it was Barbara she was lying to, of all people, the most honest and innocent person ever to stroll under the sunshine of Teyvat. If any of her fan club members were to find out that Rosaria had dragged their precious idol onto a frozen mountain, they would have her head on her own pole.

“Albedo, I brought Barbara,” Rosaria called into the cavern, hoping that if she could be loud and confident enough, both Barbara and Albedo would believe that neither of them were being led astray.

In all reality, Rosaria really hadn’t planned very far ahead. She only knew that when Barbara danced her cute little dance and winked her cute little eye and tilted her cute little head to the side, whomever was on the receiving end of such gestures always went pink in the face.

“Good afternoon, Sister Rosaria, Sister Barbara,” Albedo greeted with a slight pitch of his brow. “If you required my assistance, I could have easily made the journey down to Mondstadt proper. I hope you have not suffered from the cold. Before you return home, please allow me to provide you with a heating potion.”

“No need, Albedo. We won’t be here long.”

“Mister Albedo, Sister Rosaria told me that you need healing,” Barbara announced before Rosaria could fully take control of the situation. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I appear to be alright. Ah—I suppose you are referring to my arm?” The alchemist lifted his arm to reveal a loosely-tied bandage around his forearm that was beginning to show a patch of crimson bleeding through the white material. “I must have forgotten. I… don’t even remember how this came to be. How did you know?”

“I heard about it.”

“You heard about it? I see. You must have run into y/n. I informed her that I could tend to the wound myself, but it would not surprise me to hear that she would turn to Sister Barbara for help. She was quite worried about the whole ordeal.”

Rosaria quietly gave thanks to Lord Bortibos for his good graces. She didn’t even know who y/n was, but Barbara seemed to recognize the name, nodding as she cheerily made her way over to Albedo to take a look at his arm.

Barbara did her cute little dance, and she sang her cute little song, and she winked her cute little eye, but Albedo’s face remained still as a statue and pale as the snow outside the cavern throughout the entire experience. Rosaria at least felt comforted, somewhat, that if Barbara couldn’t get him to blush, surely no one else would discern any other way to do it. She had exhausted every possible avenue, in her mind, and now, it was time to return to more important business.

Amber and Eula tag-teamed the challenge, but their plot failed as soon as it had started. Amber had laid out their game plan as a subtle, masterful appeal to Albedo’s emotion, but Eula Lawrence was not subtle.

“Albedo. Have you ever cried?”

“I—hmm. Perhaps as a child, Captain Eula. Is there any particular reason you ask?”

“Amber wanted to know.”

“No, I didn’t!” Amber shouted to clear her name. She had wanted to know the answer to that strange and invasive question, but she hadn’t wanted Eula to bring it up so brazenly. “What Eula means is that—”

“What was it that made you cry as a child? Your parents? A childhood bully? If you need vengeance to be extracted—”

“Eula means that we were interested in your upbringing. We didn’t mean to pry, Mister Albedo,” Amber physically stepped in between the two before Eula could threaten any figures from Albedo’s past. “We just don’t know much about you.”

“Ah, I see. There is not much to know.”

“Understandable. Have a nice day, Mister Albedo!”

Amber tugged Eula away by the hand, rattling off all sorts of explanations as to why Eula’s questions had been inappropriate, but Eula saw no real merit to such accusations. If Amber had a question to ask, she should ask, not beat around the bush.

Venti knew that he had the upper hand, because who could possibly resist a love ballad played by the dutiful and skilled hands of the Anemo Archon himself? If Lord Barbatos could not woo the alchemist with his dulcet tones and witty lyricism, then surely nothing else could be done.

“Excuse me, dear y/n, but have you seen Albedo today? I heard that he’s in town, and I’d like to pay him a visit.”

Y/n finished placing the return date card in the back of a freshly returned novel, complete with slight electro elemental traces from Lisa’s famous late fee policy, and eyed Venti up and down, taking in the way the bard’s fingers plucked the air just above the strings of his lyre as if practicing.

“Have you written him a song?” y/n asked, buying time. She had seen Albedo, not five minutes prior, and he had paused his deep and entrancing train of thought to greet her, but she worried that any other distraction would simply bounce off of him like Jean repelling a pyro slime. Even Venti’s greatest masterpiece would go unheard with Albedo in that state.

“I have written a song, and I have the feeling he’ll like it, but I need to try it out first. Have you seen him?”

“Venti, Albedo’s in kind of a mood today.” She winced at the way his countenance dropped entirely at the idea. “I don’t mean that he’s upset or anything. He’s just got his mind on something important, so it might not be the best day for a performance. I’m sorry, Venti, I’m sure he’d love to hear it on any other day.”

“Oh. Well, that’s alright, y/n, thank you for—”

“Y/n, I’ve come across something interesting, and I wonder if you might take a look at it,” Albedo announced as he took great strides down the hallway towards y/n. “The specimen you helped me collect from Starsnatch Cliff has successfully adapted to synthetic photosynthesis. The primary difference to the naked eye seems to be an odd discoloration of the inner petals, but I would appreciate a second opinion, as well as a second set of hands, so that I might extract—oh, hello, Venti. I did not see you there.”

“Well, well, if it isn’t the man of the hour!” Venti announced. He seemed to lift right off of the ground as he bounded towards Albedo with his lyre held aloft, giving a playful strum to the strings. “I was just looking for you, Mister Albedo! Would you be interested in hearing a song that I wrote?”

“Venti, I must apologize, but I am exceedingly busy with an experiment, and I fear—”

“Nonsense! You should always take some time to rest, have a break, enjoy some local entertainment. Come now, sit down. Y/n can listen too, if she’d like.”

Albedo scratched across his forehead with a weary hand before sighing, deciding that humoring the bard would be far easier than prolonging the conversation. His eyes traveled briefly to y/n, who stood awkwardly but graciously smiling between the two. She, at least, seemed interested to hear what Venti had to show for himself, so it couldn’t hurt to rest his feet for a moment, for y/n's sake.

When the song began, Albedo was not overly concerned with the melody or the lyrics or the performance at all, but the more he tuned his ears to really listen to it, the more bemused he became. A love song, of all things, in the middle of the afternoon, in the middle of Knights HQ, in the middle of an experiment he was quite keen to finish. Why had Venti been so enthused about performing this for him right then and there?

The lyrics were well written, if not a bit esoteric to a man quite literally made from chalk, and he could appreciate the artistry of it. It didn’t hold his interest quite as much, however, as y/n, who, by the third or fourth chorus, had picked up the lively tune and began humming it under her breath as she swayed gently in her seat.

“So, how was it?” Venti exclaimed.

“It was pleasant.”

“Y/n, you seemed to enjoy it.”

“I did, thank you, Venti.”

“Well, I’m pleased to hear that you both enjoyed my latest masterpiece. You know, when I wrote it, I—”

Venti’s explanation was cut off when he realized that Albedo had risen to his feet, picking up right where he left off mid-ramble. As he watched the two disappear down the hallway, Venti couldn’t help but think that he had somehow ended up on the right path, just with the wrong motivation and at the wrong time.

If Venti had been close, Kaeya was near right on the mark, if not slightly to the left of a bullseye. He was a master of gathering information, an expert in the field of loosening inhibitions and coaxing secrets from anyone from gossiping servants to high-ranking Fatui officers.

The sweet little librarian’s assistant would be no challenge for him, or so he thought.

“Oh, come now, y/n,” he crooned, leaning conspiratorially across the counter to peer up at her. “Everyone has a weakness. Don’t tell me that Albedo is so composed all the time.”

“A weakness?” she pondered aloud, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation but more uncomfortable with the idea of confronting Kaeya about it. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“No? Don’t you have a weakness, y/n?”

“Do you mean physically, or…? I suppose I’m not very good at using a claymore. I can’t seem to get used to the weight distribution.”

“You’re lucky you’re adorable, y/n. I’m talking about an emotional weakness. What flusters our dear chief alchemist, hmm? What makes him blush?”

“Blush?”

“Yes, blush. Just like you’re doing right now.”

She lifted a hand to her cheek as if to physically try to wipe the red off of her face before Kaeya could make any more untoward comments about it, but he only pressed onward, willfully ignoring her own flustered behavior.

“Why do you ask?” she elected to sidestep his original question with one of her own.

“I’m merely curious. And you two are friends, correct?”

“Um… yes, we are. Captain Kaeya, if you would like to know more about Albedo, I doubt he would be upset if you asked him yourself. He’s not particularly shy, he’s just not… talkative, I suppose.”

“Right,” Kaeya muttered. He hadn’t anticipated that y/n would be straightforward, if not a little coy, about the matter, though he should have guessed. Anyone who was as close to the chief alchemist as she would have to have some similarities in personality. Kaeya couldn’t imagine Albedo befriending anyone garrulous or grandiloquent.

“Is there something else I can help you with?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. I have a few more questions about Mister Albedo. Nothing too personal of course, just some basic information, if you happen to know the answers.”

“I can try, but again, I’m sure Albedo wouldn’t mind if you asked him yourself.”

“And what if I’m planning some sort of surprise?” Kaeya intoned. Y/n’s brow furrowed at the thought, but Kaeya swooped in to reassure her before she backed out. “Nothing too extreme, of course. A private gift, perhaps. He helped me with a problem I had recently, and I would like to thank him properly. Does he have a favorite color, perhaps?”

Reasonably, Kaeya could do nothing with that shallow information, but if he intended to ask anything beyond surface-level attributes, he was obviously going to have to ease y/n into it with softball questions that wouldn’t raise her hackles.

“He does like blue—that kind of deep blue that’s on his shirt. I wouldn’t say that he necessarily has a favorite, but he does tend to favor colors that aren’t garish.”

“I see, I see. A favorite flower?”

“Cecilias,” y/n answered easily, with a brief smile that Kaeya might have missed had he not been watching her closely. Even though she turned from him to stamp a return date, he could read her honest expression plain as day. “There’s a species of large flower that grows in Sumeru, primarily in open, grassy areas, that he always mentions he would like to see someday, but I wouldn’t say that it’s his favorite. He’s very fond of Cecilias.”

“Interesting. So you two are quite close, then?”

The blush returned to her face, and she cleared her throat before she spoke, “Yes, we’re… close. Albedo is—he’s a good friend of mine. Do you have any other questions?”

“Just a few more, if you would humor me.”

“Of course, Captain Kaeya.”

“Since you work in the library, I’m sure you know—what genre of book does Albedo prefer?”

“Non-fiction, usually.”

“Usually?”

“Almost always some scientific study for an experiment he’s working on. I’ve managed to talk him into reading a few adventure novels, though, and he seemed to enjoy them well enough.”

“Does he read romance novels?”

“No, that’s not something he’s ever expressed interest in.”

“He’s not a romantic?”

She blanched, an interesting reaction, but one he didn’t pay near enough mind to. Y/n appeared to be skirting some issue—she had been honest and gracious in playing along with Kaeya’s questioning, but she shifted her gaze uncomfortably from time to time as if desperate to find an out from certain topics.

She’s shy, he thought to himself as he watched her fingers busy themselves with the fraying edge of a hardback novel. And I am being awfully forward, especially to someone who spends more time around books than people.

“He’s—” she began, then stopped abruptly, trying to rephrase her thoughts, “he’s not typically interested in romance, I suppose. That’s not to say that he’s incapable of… or uninterested in… um, do you have a different question?”

“You think he would be interested in romance, given the right circumstance?”

“Yes, I suppose. That makes sense.”

“Yes. Yes, I suppose it does. Well, thank you for your time, Miss y/n. I apologize for taking up your afternoon with my silly questions.”

“Oh, that’s alright, Captain Kaeya. If you need more help finding a nice gift for Albedo, I’d be happy to help.”

“Thank you, y/n.”

“You thought that he was romantically interested in Sucrose?” Eula scoffed before downing another full glass of something so strong that Jean could smell it several seats down.

“Don’t tell me that your approach was any better, Captain Eula.”

The knights and friends, defeated after a week of attempts at catching the chief alchemist off guard in hopes to catch him blushing, had nearly decided that the man was incapable of going red at all.

“Maybe we should tell him that he can’t blush,” Amber suggested. “He said himself that he wasn’t sure if he was capable of it. I bet he would like to know the answer.”

“But then we would be giving away the game,” Kaeya retorted. “And we need a full mission report before deciding that he’s a lost cause. Lisa, how did you fare?”

“No better than Jean, unfortunately. I gave him just about everything I could without being indecent. He hardly noticed I was there.”

“Rosaria?”

“I called in Barbara. Nothing.”

“Amber?”

“Well, I was going to try something simple, but Eula was a bit too forward about it. We got no results at all from it.”

“Venti?”

“I played him my song.”

“And?”

“He liked it, of course. But he didn’t blush.”

“Well, then, that leaves me, I suppose,” Kaeya sighed. He had saved himself for last, despite having nothing to show for himself. His conversation with y/n had been only slightly illuminating, but nothing he had attempted during his subsequent conversation with Albedo had produced results, and he was ashamed to tell the group as much. “I suppose none of us are getting free drinks, then. A shame, really. I was interested to see the results almost as much as I wanted free liquor.”

“You’re forgetting someone,” Diluc suddenly announced as he stepped lively into the room, taking his place behind the bar with a chipper attitude that was unbecoming of him. The entire group was baffled at his words, and at the smile that graced his usually stern features.

“Oh, Master Diluc, don’t tell me that you’re the one who has actually been successful? Turning someone’s face red with pyro will get you disqualified, you know,” Kaeya intoned, hoping to slightly infuriate the man but only lifting his countenance even more.

“I have proof, and as soon as I show you, I will have an entire month of peace and quiet. If I see even one of you lurking around my tavern on a Tuesday night, I will personally ensure that you never see the inside of this establishment ever again.”

“We all agreed to it, Diluc,” Lisa bargained, leaning over the counter as if Diluc’s proof were hiding behind the bar, just out of sight. “Go ahead and show us, dear, don’t leave us hanging like this.”

“Charles?” Diluc asked.

Charles nodded firmly, “They’re just outside.”

“Good.”

With this, Diluc wordlessly stepped towards the back door, pressing a gloved finger to his mouth to signal that the rest of the group should be quiet. He poised his hand over the doorknob for several agonizing seconds until suddenly and forcefully, he flung the door open, sending the couple on the other side flying apart.

“Barbatos preserve me,” Venti muttered drunkenly, the only one of the group who could speak at the moment.

The sight was startling, but after the initial shock had faded, it became increasingly obvious to all of them precisely how oblivious they all had been in their research. It should have been obvious. There was a common denominator to nearly every respective conversation they had conducted, and it was not a thing or a topic or an action, but a person.

Albedo was behind the door, his face flushed all the way to the tips of his ears as he and y/n sheepishly parted. What they had been doing before the door opened had gone unseen by the bar’s patrons, but they could wager a strong guess based on the way y/n was quick to cover her lips with her hand.

“Oh, my—” Kaeya began. “Well, this is interesting. Why didn’t you two tell us about your little arrangement? I’m sure we all would be quite happy for you.”

“You did not ask,” Albedo replied simply. By the time he stepped in properly through the door, his face had returned to its normal color, though y/n was still the color of an unripe sunsettia.

“And to think, we were all going about it the wrong way.”

“Going about what?”

“These idiots made a bet,” Diluc said, straightforward and stern as he moved towards the front door, preparing to physically toss the knights out by their collars. “And they’ve all lost, so now it’s time to leave. Y/n and Albedo, of course, are free to stay.”

“Oh. Thank you, Diluc,” y/n muttered, half lost in thought. “Wait, is that why everyone was acting like that this past week? You were all trying to get Albedo to… to do what? What were you trying to do?”

Albedo was quick to respond, having connected the dots rather easily, “I see. This is because of our conversation last week, yes? You were performing an experiment to see if I am capable of blushing. And, judging by your expressions, you seem to have gotten a satisfactory answer.”

“Yes,” Diluc interjected. “Goodbye.”

With this, the knights were summarily kicked out of the tavern for the next month, and Diluc was rewarded handsomely with his peace and quiet, for which he was happy to provide the happy couple with a set of drinks, on the house. He did feel a bit uncomfortable, after all, that he had exposed their relationship for the explicit purpose of clearing out his bar.

“Did they make you uncomfortable, y/n?” Albedo asked her quietly after Diluc had disappeared into the back to refresh his ingredients. “If I had known that they might confront you for an answer, I would have asked them to refrain.”

“I’m alright, Bedo. I just hope they didn’t make you uncomfortable, trying to make you blush like that.”

“No, I hardly noticed. I do commend their dedication to their experiment, however. I hope their results were satisfactory.”

“Hmm, I guess so. But if they wanted to know if you’re capable of blushing, they could have just asked me outright. I’ve seen you blush plenty of times.”

“Have you really?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Fascinating. When does this happen?”

“Well—different times, I guess, but… most of the time, when I kiss you, you turn red.”

“I would like a demonstration, if you don’t mind.”

She was happy to provide.

#albedo x reader #albedo imagine #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagine #if you read this far i love you #also i love making up fake book names #it was call of the ocean void and now the anemo archons aviary #i just love coming up with fake book titles what does that say about me

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quietwingsinthesky · 1 year

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You've combined both Lucifer being pregnant and Michifer and that sounded an alarm for me to come running 🫡

So sorry I'm late, I'm here to discuss our angsty duo and their pregnancy shenanigans

I have come to offer: late stage apolcaypse period rendezvous where Michael is the one that gets pregnant and only realizes after the end and he's killed Lucifer

Oh, oh, can I make this more angsty?? Because you know Michael after killing Lucifer is. Not in his best state of mind, to put it lightly. (I know the only canon reference point we have for this is AU!Michael who is like. A gleeful little villain guy who brags about enjoying tearing Lucifer to shreds. But idk man, sounds like revisionist history from an angel who can’t handle looking directly at the fact that he killed his little brother with his own two hands to me.)

Anyway, my point is, what if Michael finds out he’s carrying Lucifer’s kid. Lucifer’s blood fresh on his hands. More alone in the world than he’s ever been. God didn’t return. The world is on fire. Heaven is full of angels questioning where paradise is. And here’s Michael, with the last little bit of Lucifer he has left.

And you know, what if Michael, in his grief, goes, “What if I could try again? What if I had the chance to raise Lucifer again and do it right this time? This time, he won’t be corrupted, and I won’t have to hurt him because he’ll be perfect.” And so when the baby is born, Michael names it Lucifer and starts acting like it’s his baby brother.

(Raphael just watching on in horror as this happens. There’s nothing they can do about it. Michael is unstable and the most powerful being in the universe now, and not even Lucifer stood a chance when he was alive. So Michael puts baby new Lucifer in Raphael’s arms, and all Raphael can do is dedicate themselves to the same goal as Michael. If this baby must grow up to be Lucifer’s replacement, then they can’t Eve turn on Michael like the old one did. Because who knows how much worse Michael will get if he loses Lucifer a second time.)

There’s a part of Michael that has to know it isn’t really Lucifer, but the baby angel looks so much like his little brother. They have the same grace (some of its Michael’s own, but he tries not to look at that) and they’re as good as he knows Lucifer to be. So, he just pretends and pretends until he can make himself believe it. And eventually, he starts mixing up his memories of his baby and his brother.

(Ough, imagining little baby Lucifer escaping Heaven one day, coming across where the original Lucifer died, sitting on the ground between the burnt out wings and tracing the outlines of the feathers. Michael in Heaven panicking because his baby brother is gone. And I think Raphael should be the one to find them down there, immediately scoop baby Lucifer up and tell them, never ask about that, never come here again, don’t ever tell Michael you know about this.)

#this baby is gonna be so fucked up #naming you baby after a dead relative to honor them but taken to the extreme. insane Michael behavior.#this is a little inspired by a unfinished fic I read a long time ago about AU!Michael kind of doing this with Jack #mistaking him for Lucifer and kidnapping him and treating him like the brother he lost #I just love characters using others as substitutes for someone #eat it up every time <3 #ask #michifer #spn #lucifer spn #Michael spn #Raphael spn #tw character death #tw pregnancy

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swifteforeverandalways · 1 year

Text

K'áatech

@ghostlydarknight

Jade was in her library, sitting on the couch reading a book. Her legs were outstretched, feet resting on a foot rest. Bobbi was laying perpendicular, her head resting in Jade’s lap. Every now and then, the Outworld Princess Assassin would lower her book to kiss her wife’s lips. There was a knock at the door and the two looked up.

“I’ll get it,” Bobbi said, sitting up. Jade lowered her book, watching as Bobbi went to the door and opened it up.

“Syndel? What’s going on?” Bobbi asked upon seeing the Outworld Queen.

“King T’Challa requests to speak to Jade,” Syndel said. Jade put her book down, walking over to join her wife and mother.

“Mom? Is everything okay?” Jade asked. Syndel hesitated slightly.

“There has been a…..complication with Talokan and HYDRA,” she said cryptically. Bobbi and Jade exchanged a look and the two followed Syndel to the meeting room. In the meeting room stood King T’Challa and the leader of the Jabari Tribe, M’Baku.

“King T’Challa, M’Baku,” Jade greeted, crossing her arms against her chest in the traditional Wakandan greeting, Bobbi and Syndel doing the same.

“Princess Jade. Queen Syndel. Agent Morse,” T’Challa replied as he and M’Baku put their hand over their heart before extending it to the three in the traditional Outworld greeting.

“Not to sound ungrateful, but what is going on? We don’t usually have social visits from Wakanda,” Jade asked. T’Challa sighed slightly, M’Baku looking rather pissed.

“We have reason to believe that HYDRA has kidnapped Namor and we need your help to get him back,” the King of Wakanda said.

:readmore:

“Of course we’ll help,” Jade said instantly.

“Good, because who knows what HYDRA could do to him,” M’Baku said darkly. Jade’s expression quickly turned dark and she took a step towards M’Baku. Bobbi and T’Challa quickly made their way between the two. Bobbi held her hands out, one resting gently on Jade’s chest while the other was extended towards M’Baku. Meanwhile, T’Challa had a restraining arm against M’Baku.

“HYDRA killed my mother’s first husband to take over Outworld. I have heard horror stories about what HYDRA has done to SHIELD agents. Hell, my wife was tortured by a HYDRA agent before I met her. So don’t you dare talk to me about what HYDRA is capable of,” the Outworld Princess said angrily.

“You don’t get it,” M’Baku said before Jade cut him off.

“Don’t get what? How you feel about him? Because I know exactly what the fuck I would do if HYDRA kidnapped my wife. I wouldn’t stop until they were all dead. You’re right in that I don’t know exactly how you feel, but I know how I feel about the woman I love and I can imagine how you feel about the man you love,” Jade said.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are a very intense woman?” M’Baku asked. Jade grinned.

“My mom. My dad. My brother. My sister. Various friends and enemies. Bobbi nearly every night,” she replied.

“Jade!” Bobbi yelped, blushing hard as she playfully slapped her wife’s shoulder. Jade just smirked.

“Do you have any lead on where HYDRA may have taken Namor?” She asked.

“We don’t….we were actually wondering if SHIELD would be willing to help us to locate where they may have taken him,” T’Challa said. Jade looked over at Bobbi, who nodded.

“Of course we’ll help,” she said.

“Let’s get to it, then,” M’Baku said.

In a HYDRA warehouse, Namor was chained up with multiple space heaters facing towards him. The heat was unbearable, drying out his skin and sapping him of his strength. A door opened and a man who the others referred to as “Rumlow” walked in.

“Oh how the mighty king has fallen now,” he gloated. Namor glared up at Rumlow, anger in his eyes despite his exhaustion.

“You won’t get away with this,” he warned. Rumlow smirked at that.

“Oh, I believe we will,” he said. Namor snorted at that.

“My people will bring you down,” he said.

“Your people? You are too weak to fight us! Once HYDRA has you on our side, your people will follow!” Rumlow laughed.

“Wakanda won’t let you get away with it. The leader of the Jabari Tribe, M’Baku? He will kill you,” Namor warned. Rumlow just laughed at that.

“Let’s see that,” here Rumlow used a word that Namor didn’t know what it meant, “try.”

“You obviously don’t know Wakanda,” Namor said dryly. Rumlow just laughed and stalked off.

In Outworld, SHIELD had located the location of Namor. Jade stared at the map, arms crossed against her chest. Without a single word, she walked over to a drawer and pulled out a lighter.

“What are you planning on doing with that?” T’Challa asked.

“I’m going to burn that damn warehouse down after we rescue Namor,” Jade said, her voice eerily calm.

“That’s where HYDRA held me when they kidnapped me. And Jade is a protective wifey,” Bobbi explained, seeing the confused look on T’Challa and M’Baku’s faces.

“How long will it take to get there,” M’Baku asked.

“Two hours, once we get high enough in the Quinjet, I’ll set it to Mach 3 and it’ll take about two hours,” Bobbi replied.

“That’s not good enough,” M’Baku snapped. Jade bristled but they all ignored her.

“I can push it to Mach 5 but any faster than that in our current atmosphere would cause problems,” Bobbi said.

“How long?”

“An hour.”

“Do it then,” M’Baku commanded. Bobbi nodded, “We leave when you’re ready.”

“Then we go now,” M’Baku said, producing his Knobkerrie. Bobbi looked at Jade and T’Challa. T’Challa tapped his necklace, his suit forming over him.

“You know I’m always ready for a fight,” Jade said, grabbing her warfans.

“I’ll stay in the Quinjet and be ready to fly when you return,” Bobbi said as the ground headed through the portal to the Playground to get to the Quinjet.

A little over an hour later, the Quinjet touched down just outside of Aranda de Duero, Spain.

“Let’s go,” Jade said, lifting her mask to cover her face. T’Challa and M’Baku nodded.

“Be safe,” Bobbi said, “I’ll be waiting for you when you get back.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” Jade said with a fond smile, giving her wife a quick kiss before the three headed out.

Jade, T’Challa, and M’Baku quietly made their way through the warehouse, Jade and T’Challa stealthily taking out the guards in their own ways.

“You know, you do not have to kill them,” T’Challa commented. Jade smirked at that.

“I know, but it’s easier,” she replied.

“You could just knock them out,” he pointed out. Jade let out a dramatic sigh as another guard turned the corner. In an instant, Jade had the guard in a headlock and held it until the guard passed out.

“Better?” She snarked. T’Challa nodded, though his smile was hidden behind his mask. From a ways away, the three heard voices talking. They all straightened up, listening intently. Jade motioned towards the sound and the other toe nodded, heading towards the sound. As they approached, they could hear Rumlow talking.

“Come on, all you have to do is comply,” he said.

“Shit,” Jade swore quietly. T’Challa and M’Baku looked at her, but Jade said nothing. M’Baku glanced at T’Challa, who just shrugged.

“Let’s go,” T’Challa said. Jade nodded and walked to the closed door, kicking it open. Rumlow looked up from where he was crouched in front of Namor.

“Ah it’s the,” here Rumlow said words that made Jade’s already pissed expression somehow turn even angrier.

“What did you just call them? And me?” She said in a dangerous tone.

“I called you a,” Rumlow smirked, repeating the foul words he had just used.

“What do those mean?” T’Challa whispered to Jade.

“The word that began with an ‘n’ is used as a racial slur against those with African heritage while the other one is used as a racial slur against those with Asian heritage,” Jade said in a pissed tone.

“Ah, so the dyke has a brain,” Rumlow said. Jade rushed at Rumlow, sweeping out with a kick. The kick landed sharply on the jaw of the HYDRA agent, cracking it easily.

“My beauty, there you are,” a delirious Namor said, looking at M’Baku with an expression of pure devotion.

“Let’s get you free,” M’Baku said roughly, crouching near Namor. T’Challa joined, unsheathing his claws to slice through the ties.

“Get him out of here, I’ll finish up Rumlow,” Jade said. M’Baku shook his head and stood.

“No, I will,” he said as T’Challa lifted up Namor. Jade looked at the Jabari Tribe leader before nodding.

“Let’s go,” she said to T’Challa. The two royalty members headed out of the warehouse. M’Baku faced Rumlow, swinging his Knobkerrie dangerously.

“You will pay,” he said before rushing at Rumlow.

Jade and T’Challa ran out of the warehouse and towards the waiting Quinjet.

“Those words that he said. Do they really mean what you said?” T’Challa asked quietly. Jade nodded.

“And the other word he called me. Dyke. That’s a slur for lesbians. Probably a good thing Bobbi stayed at the Quinjet. If she heard him use those words, without a doubt he’d get a bullet in the brain,” she said just as quietly. T’Challa nodded as they reached the Quinjet. Before Jade could knock on it, the ramp lowered. Bobbi looked out, hand on her gun.

“Where is M’Baku?” She asked.

“Taking care of Rumlow,” Jade answered, boarding the Quinjet and kissing her wife on the cheek.

“Is he okay?” Bobbi asked, nodding at Namor.

“He is dehydrated, it has sapped him of his strength,” T’Challa replied. Bobbi walked over to the wall and tapped on it. A compartment opened and Bobbi pulled out a water bottle, tossing it to Jade. Jade pulled out a fan and sliced the bottle open, dumping it on Namor.

“Why do you….” T’Challa began.

“It’s water,” Bobbi deadpanned, “every Quinjet is furnished with a mini fridge that has both water and electrolyte-recovering beverages.”

“That makes sense,” T’Challa said as M’Baku exited the warehouse. He pulled out the lighter Jade had handed to him and flicked it at the warehouse, setting it ablaze.

“Let’s go,” M’Baku said in a dark voice, boarding the Quinjet. Bobbi nodded and headed to the cockpit, starting up the Quinjet and heading back to the Playground. M’Baku walked to Namor, placing a hand to his cheek.

“Are you okay?” He asked in a rough voice. Namor stared up at him, still half delirious.

“I am just fine, my beauty,” he said. M’Baku turned slightly pink at that.

“I’m glad,” he said, kissing Namor on the forehead. Jade and T’Challa exchanged amused looks at the scene. Despite what he said, the two knew that M’Baku was actually totally in love with Namor.

#T’Challa #M’Baku #Namor #jade okaia #bobbi morse #nam’baku #namor x m'baku #MockingPrincess #Emoverse #my writing

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