#his babysitting business is going swimmingly!

[speedane]

Out of context

#jee rambles #dislyte #david dislyte #his babysitting business is going swimmingly! #no the baby is not Q

[astaroth1357]

The Brothers as Angels of Virtue

My Brain: Stop thinking about the Angel!Brothers. The Angel!Brothers aren’t real. Like, they’re even less real than usual.

Me: But they are real!! *puts hand over heart* They’re real to me… in my heart…!

My Brain: “Your heart” ain’t in the canon but whatever, good luck with your delusions…

Me: Oh yeah?? Well I’ll show you, Brain!! I can FORCE this to work with the canon!!!

Brain: Nani!?!

Angel of Humility, Lucifer

Lucifer obviously wasn’t the first angel, Michael and Gabriel were there before him so those two had the most hand in “mentoring” him as he grew up.

Lucifer was always Michael’s favorite from the beginning. He was a very mild-mannered and studious kid from the get-go, even if he could be a bit blunt... 

He seemed to always be willing to learn something new and even after he would all but master whatever he practiced, he’d never forget to give credit to the people who taught him along the way. His willingness to step out of the spotlight, despite his many talents, eventually earned him the virtue of “Humility.”

Lucifer was around his pre-teens when Mammon was finally created, slightly too old to be able to grow up with him super closely, but still young enough to be more approachable than Michael or the others when he needed help.

Lucifer loved little Mammon with all his heart and would try to give him advice when he could, but since Michael would keep him busy helping him on most days Mammon was left with little people to socialize with… at least until Levi came along anyway.

As time passed and he grew even older, more and more siblings became added to the family. Lucifer never ignored or forgot about a single one of them. While Michael and others concerned themselves more with the day-to-day work, he’d be the one to check in on everyone and be sure they were alright.

Michael would arrange for a lot of “family activities” while they were all still together and Lucifer would actually enjoy participating. He’d usually volunteer to be the person who’d help the youngest at the table learn how to play a game since he wasn’t very competitive himself. A lot of the goodwill his family still has for him comes from these kinds of memories… No matter what happened afterwards.

Angel of Charity, Mammon

Mammon came around a fair amount of time after Lucifer so he was the youngest angel for quite a while. 

This led him to grow up a little… wilder than the others because he used to do things to get attention. Not big things, but like break a rule here or there to get people noticing you know?

Despite his “problem child” tendencies, no one ever considered Mammon a bad apple or anything. He probably had the most compassionate heart out of all the angels, the kind of kid who offers you one of their toys when they see you’re upset, you know?

As more siblings came into the picture, Mammon had a nasty habit of spoiling them silly. Especially Levi, who was much closer to his age, and ultimately got most of the toys when they would play together and gifts afterwards. Mammon’s selfless attitude towards giving gave him the virtue of “Charity.”

Over time, Mammon began to get more and more dissatisfied with how nice the lives of angels were compared to those of humans and he started making secret trips to the human world to help out the less fortunate. Since this was tiptoeing dangerously close to meddling with human lives, Lucifer was brought in to give Mammon a different outlet for his frustration...

Lucifer placed Mammon in the guardian angel program, allowing him to pick one human whom he could help as much as he liked, so long as he followed the rules. As it would turn out, Mammon took to guardianship swimmingly and stayed in the program right up until their eventual fall… and sort of afterwards too if you think about it.

Angel of Kindness, Leviathan

After Levi was made, Mammon was SO excited to have someone close to his age around that he became his main playmate.

Levi adored Mammon back then, the two were practically inseparable when they were young. The other angels would find them running around together, the more extroverted and lively Mammon leading the way for his his shy, but sweet brother in for whatever they were doing.

When Mammon would come up with any big project ideas, Levi would be the first person he’d ask to be his “partner-in-crime.” Unfortunately, it was still very much one of those “they’re a pair, but they have two braincells between them” kind of dynamics so things would always go south quick.

One day, Mammon was determined to make breakfast for all the other angels so Michael could take a break, so he pulled in Levi to help him. Because neither of them actually knew how to cook, the kitchen turned into a disaster and they both were covered in eggs and flour when Lucifer found them...

As Levi grew up, he more or less became of the unofficial helper and confidant to all the other angels, his siblings included. In time, because he was always so willing to lend a hand with everyone else’s projects, he became pretty skilled at a lot of things as a result. People eventually took note of Levi’s good-nature and named his virtue “Kindness.”

When Mammon started acting up more and more, the other angels would try to discourage Levi from associating with him as much but he’d always be the first to stick up for his older brother. No matter how much he bent the rules, he knew that he had a good heart and always meant well in the end. That, unfortunately, wouldn’t always hold true down the line...

Angel of Chastity, Asmodeus

There was another gap between Levi’s creation and Asmo’s so yet again there was a young angel without anyone their age to play with…

Unlike Mammon’s situation, however, Asmo was at least fortunate enough to have older brothers who understood what that felt like and tried their best to play with him when they could. Lucifer did this in particular because he was worried that Asmo could start acting out like Mammon had all those years ago...

Because of the extra attention, Asmo took to Lucifer very quickly. He saw him sort of how Luke sees Michael for quite a while and wanted to help him as much as he could. Sometimes people would even joke that Asmo was like his shadow, because the little angel would follow him around and mimic whatever he did.

Because they were together so much, Lucifer did a lot to shelter Asmo from the less savory things in life... It wasn’t so much out of prudence as it was brotherly concern for the boy, Mammon was still quarreling with him about the state of the human world and he didn’t want Asmo to go down a similar path... Due to this, Asmo had a very sheltered view on life and his perpetual wide-eyed innocence earned him the virtue of “Chastity.”

After he got a little older, he started wanting to find his own identity apart from Lucifer and that was around the time that the twins were made. 

Though everyone adored the twins, Asmo loved them both most of all! He took on the role of their babysitter and wouldn’t hear anything to the contrary, though he was a much more relaxed guardian than Lucifer had been to him (mostly because he was just so soft for their cute little faces).

Angel of Temperance, Beelzebub

It was a big deal when the twins were created because it’s very rare for two angels to be made so close together, on the same day no less. Beel came first when the sun rose then Belphie second after it fell. 

Asmo was ecstatic to have a younger sibling at last and all of the other brothers were equally delighted. Though Asmo did a lot of their babysitting, Beel was still more closely drawn to Lucifer whenever he would watch them. During those times, he would notice how tired Lucifer would be whenever he got to play with them… this would come to affect him later on.

The twins were always close to each other, naturally, but there were still big differences in their personalities even back then. Beel had always been known for his even-temper and awareness of both others and himself. If Mammon was the kid who’d give you his toys, Beel was the one to listen to your problems (even if he didn’t understand them, like at all).

From a young age, Beel would quietly watch those around him. The Celestial Realm was a demanding environment and a lot of angels had a good deal of work to do... Beel connected the dots that doing all this work all the time led to a lot of stress early on.

Being a caring soul, Beel used this knowledge to intervene when he saw his brothers getting overworked and helped remind them of their limits. This would apply especially to his twin (who was pretty much his patient zero) and Lucifer, who eventually grew to rely on Beel’s advice so much he  made him part of his personal guard. His guidance and insight beyond his years eventually gave him the title of “Temperance.”

Though Beel was protective of everyone, Belphie often got most of his attention because of his tendency to push himself farther than he needed to. It was his desire to see his twin take more breaks that led him to asking Mammon if Belphie could start going to the human world and well… We know where that ends up.

Angel of Diligence, Belphegor

As the younger of the twins, all the other angels considered Belphie to be the baby of the family and treated him as such. Asmo adored him because he was just so cute, so he got coddled A LOT when compared to everyone else.

Belphie differed from his brother by being the more active of the two. While Beel would be comfortable to sit back and watch then lend a hand, Belphie always felt more better just getting up and doing whatever needed done himself, usually with a smile in the process. He would actually have to lean on Beel quite a lot because of this, since his twin could remind him to rest and take breaks.

Combine his cheerful attitude with his cute face and “baby brother” status and Belphie could always get away with quite a lot, even back then. Of all the boys, even Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to be too hard on him. That didn’t really become a problem until he got a little older though...

Beel was worried that Belphie wasn’t getting enough rest, so he convinced Mammon to start taking Belphie out with him when he went to the human world as a guardian angel. He figured that if Belphie was away from work, then he had to rest, right? Mammon agreed and that’s what sparked Belphie’s fascination with the human world to start with.

After getting to go a couple times, he would start working extra hard in order to suck up to Lucifer, Michael, or whoever he could so he could go again. When the other angels started getting concerned that he was spending too much time there, they tried to put a limit on it to keep him home. However, that just lead him to sneaking out and leaving notes for Beel on where to find him if people started noticing...

Beel tried his best to curtail his twin’s trips, but even he couldn’t really tell Belphie no when he needed to hear it. By the time Lilith came around, Belphie was already making regular trips there and back and well… That’s how the story goes.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #obey me angels

[cozycryptidcorner]

Chapter Two

“Morning, love, how are things going on your end?”

“Things are going swimmingly!” Your throat grinds with having to keep your customer service tone up, but you grit your teeth and keep going. “What time should I expect you tomorrow?”

“Around noon, I think. Just have a couple of errands to run beforehand around town, but it shouldn’t take too long! Do you need me to pick anything up from Tom’s Hardware?”

Oh, sweet lord, yes, anything to stall her. An extra ten minutes might be the difference between your job and your career’s untimely death. You turn around to concentrate, reaching for where you stashed your notebook. “Actually, Marge, could you pick up a couple of paints? I’ll send over the serial numbers via email.”

“Oh, of course, you must be extra busy with your crew gone! I’ll get that done for you. Anything else?”

You try to wrack your brain, but you can’t think of anything more, much to your disappointment. Neither can you come up with any wild goose chases to keep her away for some time. “No, Marge, nothing comes to mind. Oh- wait, wait, I was just wondering what the statue outside is na- uh, titled, so I can start designing something themed.”

“Er, oh, I think it was among the lines of Gala-something. Galactus? No, that’s not right… Oh, dear, my wife would know.”

That’s when you noticed that the bench where you set the statue down is decidedly empty. Your stress levels immediately pop right back up to maximum. After a moment, you realize that your jaw aches as you clench it hard enough to break your teeth. Quickly enough, you come up with a believable lie to get off the phone as soon as possible. “Hey, Marge- delivery guy’s here. I’ve got to handle this.”

“Of course! Talk to you later, dear. I’ll have Esther send you a text message with the statue’s information.”

You’re already running through the hall when you hang up, eyes scanning every crevice that could possibly be a hiding spot for a walking statue, but you can’t find him. He’s not in the common area, nor in the first couple of rooms that your crew had managed to finish furnishing before leaving. You call for him, not sure of his name nor what you might refer to him as, so it’s a weird mash of statue guy, and stone dude, mainly just focusing on “um, hey? Not done with you yet!”

After edging on the precipice of a panic attack, you spot his silhouette upon the top of the staircase. Letting out a loud, pissed grunt, you storm up, hand on the rail to steady your angry rampage, and then you look over to the doorway he appears to be aiming for. Oh, no. No, no, no, not on your watch. You speed your pace, throwing yourself in front of the door before he can do any damage to the precious collection beyond it. Unfortunately, your injured hand makes a somewhat awkward connection with the oak frame, and a dull wave of pain rushes through your nerves.

“You can’t just wander off like that,” you gasp, out of breath from the speed you pushed yourself to.

“A thousand apologies, love,” he says, though you can see the curiosity running around and around his head like a carousel. “Might I inquire as to the contents of the room?”

Your face goes a bit pink, you can feel the heat sparking in your cheeks. “No, no, you may not. Everything in there belongs to the owner, only she and I are allowed in there.”

The statue then places both his hands on the door as well, creating a barrier between you and the rest of the hallway. “What if I asked nicely?”

Is his face inching closer? “I’d say no.”

“What if I asked very nicely?” He pecks you on the mouth, far too quickly for you to register that it was even happening until after the fact. Unfortunately, instead of leaving what ask nicely up for interpretation, he adds, “with my tongue, on my knees.”

Everything feels like it’s going on overdrive because someone you just met is offering sexual favors, and you feel like if you open your mouth at all, anything that comes out is going to be nothing more than a high pitched squeak. Just when you think this situation can’t get any worse, oh, he gets on his knees, as though promising that he's not bluffing, but you are not exactly open to the fact that his hands seem to be wandering to the waistline of your pants. In a panic, you bring your knee up. Not with the intent to hurt him, no, you don’t want any more broken body parts today, you just want to have another layer between him and your clothing.

“No! No, not even if you-” you manage to get ahold of your voice, though struggle greatly with keeping it from screaming, “just no! No, thank you!”

Above all else, he’s confused, with leaves you rather puzzled in return, because did he honest to god expect you to let him eat you out job, much less pressed up against a door that holds, at the very least, a good hundred-million dollars worth of artwork inside? Unless you’re reading the situation wayyyyy off-kilter, which is super unlikely, especially given the fact that he’s been trying to kiss the ever-loving daylights out of you since he first started breathing. With a hard swallow, you push him away, foot on his collarbone. At least he doesn’t offer up any resistance as he stands, brow furrowed.

“Back to the kitchen,” you instruct, pointing down the hall and then placing a hand over your eyes. A puff of anger escapes your lungs, and then you do your best to get your shit together in the two seconds you allow yourself. “Now.”

He obeys, thankfully, because you don’t know what you would end up doing otherwise. Once his back is turned, you pat your pockets and silently chastise yourself for not carrying your keys around, because you’re not going to put it past him to come snooping around once your attention is elsewhere. Oh, god, your work, how are you supposed to get anything done when you’re most likely going to have to babysit the statue? You assume it’s going to be like keeping an eye on a toddler; turn away for two minutes, and the castle will burn down. You can’t imagine digging yourself out of that grave. Remember to lock the door, you think hard, hoping you’ll have a chance to do it later.

“Alright,” you try to think once you’re back at the table, clawing at something, anything that could make a semblance of sense on this hellish day. “Okay. Cool. The owner of the property is coming over tomorrow.”

The statue rests his chin on his hand, his elbow on the table, mouth out in a soft, sullen pout.

“Now, just to recap, the person who owns your fine ass is coming down to pay me a visit to make sure everything is going well. Do you think that things are going well right now?” You don’t give him a chance to answer. “Things aren’t going well, and I don’t know how I’m going to fix this.”

“Do you think my ass is truly that divine?” He perks up, sounding a little too pleased with himself.

”Focus,” you grind out, afraid that you’re going to snap the pen you’re holding clean in half. The first step to saving money is not to break any of your things, no matter how fucking stressed you are. “I need you to go out in the back while she’s here and pretend to still be frozen.”

“But won’t, er, Marge, was it?”

“Ms. Hopkins, for you. Only friends get to call her Marge.”

He hesitates for a moment. ““Surely... Ms. Hopkins won’t be upset at a miracle sent by the gods themselves? Not unless she wishes punishment like that which she has never experienced before.” He settles back on the bench, arms open as though offering an embrace. “I have been birthed from the ground by chisel and a steady hand, then given life through the power of love by-”

“I’m going to cut you off there.” You hold a finger up, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Not to give you a crisis of faith or anything, but that’s not going to be good enough. I don’t want to be responsible for what happens to you if scientists start getting involved, you’re going to like, end up in a lab somewhere, and you’ll never see the light of day again. So when Marge gets here, you’re going to go back to that pedestal, and you’re going to stand still. Do you understand?”

“What’s a scientist? Is it like a philosopher?”

You’re fucking doomed. “Forget that, I need you to promise me that you’re going to stay put while Marge is here.”

He lets out a loud sigh, rolling his stone eyes so that you can fully see just how badly you’re inconveniencing him. “I suppose I might, though being able to stretch after such a long time has been such a blessing. Are you really going to make me go back to being still?”

“For like an hour? Yes, yes, I am.”

“But I’m so stiff,” he’s acting like you just asked him to shoot himself in the leg, “and my joints ache so very much.”

“You’ll hurt more if you don’t do as I say.” It’s an entirely empty threat since you’re pretty sure the only thing that might cut through him is an industrial chainsaw, something that’s not exactly on hand at the moment.

“Is that a promise?” He says, voice suddenly sultry and full of allure.

You need a moment to step away from the situation before you try strangling him, if that would even do any damage. Does he even breathe? Maybe you should check on that before anything else. Clear your head out, settle your thoughts, reset everything back to zero. This is fine. You’re fine. Everything’s fucking fine. Even though it physically pains you to say it, you offer up one last plea. “Please.”

That seems to move him, if only slightly. “If it is truly that important to you, then I shall.”

A shudder of relief runs through your body.

”However,” he stands to his full height, leaning over until his face is remarkably close to yours, “I should think that I should perhaps stretch, to fully prepare for such a task. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You skillfully dodge his mouth, turning around and letting out a frustrated breath. “Then do some yoga. I’ve got a job to do, you’ll remember, one that involves things like work and time.”

“Shall I help?”

”No!” It might have come out a little too harsh, but you are not letting him get his rocky hands all over your paints and equipment. “I just need you to be in my line of vision at all times, okay? Can you do that?”

“Can’t take your eyes off me for one moment?” He asks, which is entirely true but definitely not within the context of the tone he uses.

You know what? Agreeing at this point is probably better for both your sanity and his cooperation. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes to the back of your head, you say, deadpan, “you’re absolutely correct, I can’t seem to be able to ;ook away from that fine ass of yours. Please come with me upstairs so I can start working without your presence for a second longer than I must.”

He doesn’t appear to detect the sarcasm dripping from your words and instead looks rather flattered. “I suppose I must indulge you, then. Very well, show me the way to your place of work.”

You don’t bother to mention that the entire castle is your place of work, and instead lead him back to the library. None of the shelves are in place, and the books themselves are safely in storage while you and every other crew can trample on through without worrying about accidentally destroying something old enough to be their great-grandparent. Everything seems good to go, so you start to begin, stirring up the thick paint in the cans to make sure everything’s even, and then begin. You have almost an hour of uninterrupted work before the statue begins to start fiddling with some things that he should not be touching at all.

“Question,” you say, beginning on another wall, “can you sleep or anything?” Or do you need to be watched 24/7, no rest for the wicked amiright.

“I suppose we’ll find out.” He lays on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, clearly bored out of his mind.

“Could you maybe put on some clothes?” His nakedness hasn’t bothered you yet, but with all his attempts to take off your clothes, maybe some change is in order.

He turns his head in your direction and looks at you like you just suggested that he should maybe take a leisurely stroll into the sun. “And deprive you of such a beautiful view? Darling, my love, I should think not.”

“Okay, okay, no clothes.” You resist the urge to let out a huff. “I’m so sorry to even think of such a thing.”

“All is forgiven.” He says, so very gently, looking back up at the electric chandelier.

Again, there’s the desire to let out a scream that could be heard from across the nearest ocean, but you do no such thing. Instead, you throw yourself headfirst into your work, hoping that at the very least, your ridiculous amount of progress might allow Marge to overlook some… other things. You forget what time it is until you realize that it is suddenly so difficult to see your work, and that’s when you look out the window to find nothing but black and stars. The sun must have set long ago, without you even noticing, which means that it’s time for you to eat something before you faint from a sugar crash.

“Do you feel hungry?” You ask him, looking at your phone for the first time in hours. There’s a text from Esther, Marge’s wife, waiting for you to view.

“I don’t know.”

“Wonderful,” you respond, “but I do. I’ll order some pizza, then, and I guess you can eat some if you feel hungry at all. Any preferred toppings?”

“Preferred what?”

You take a deep breath. “I’ll just order something, then.”

And so you do, making sure the statue is sitting at the table with an old Rubix cube you found in one of the many boxes stashed in the storage room. Thankfully, he seems absolutely enamored by it, so you take the time to phone in a local pizza delivery place. Perhaps you get one too many things than you’d manage to eat, just in case the statue might end up needing to eat like any other person, though having leftovers isn’t exactly the worst outcome if he doesn’t.

While you wait for your food to be delivered, you take the liberty of reading over the document that Marge’s wife sent. Blah, blah, blah, temple excavation, blah, blah, oldest intact statue from the Hellenistic period, blah, blah, something about Aphrodite, and then… “Galateos.”

That catches his attention like a gunshot. He stares at you, mouth open and closing as he tries to come up with something to say in response. Finally, voice strangled, he says, “that sounds familiar.”

“Thought it might,” you say, a lie, really, because you don’t really know what he might find familiar and what he would see as entirely knew. “Esther texted me some info about where you came from. It says that the plaque you were given called you ‘Galateos.’”

He sits up just a tad bit taller, jaw clenched, eyes looking over the wooden table like it might offer some clues to what the word means. Finally, voice uncharacteristically dry, he says, “that must be my name.”

The way he says it, though, is unsure, almost scared, really. So you try offering a way out. “Is there something else you want to be called?”

He thinks about it, you can see the way his forehead crinkles and his eyes grow distant. But after barely a second of thought, he shakes his head. “No. Galateos is fine.”

“Alright, then, Galateos,” you try the name out. It’s long, and stiff, much like the way he had been complaining about his limbs a mere hours before. “Can I call you Gala? Or Teos? Or literally anything but?”

“You can call me ‘dearest,’ or ‘most beloved,’” he says, entirely serious.

“Galateos it is, then.” You look over the photograph of a pamphlet Marge must have ordered to advertise the statue, Esther even gave sent another picture of it open, revealing the block of text describing where they found him. “Do you remember being a statue at all? Or are you suddenly like…. Awake and stuff?”

He looks a tad bit troubled, looking down at his hands like he can’t quite place what their purpose is. After a moment of silence, he says, “I don’t know how to describe it. Darkness, forever. And then suddenly light. I didn’t care about the darkness while I was frozen because I couldn’t care about anything, anything at all. There were periods of warm and periods of cold, but neither of them were particularly bothersome.”

“You feel heat and cold?” You ask, already preparing an experiment in your head to check.

“I think so.”

“One way to find out.” You go through the cabinets until you find a large stainless steel bowl, then fill it to the brim with ice, and place it in front of him. “Stick your hand inside and leave it there for as long as you can.”

He looks at the ice like it’s something entirely unfamiliar and new, looking over at you like you might magically have the answer to a question he didn’t ask. Then, carefully, slowly, he slides his hand in the ice, frowning as he tries to verbalize what he feels. “What is this?”

“Ice.” When his expression remains blank, so you try to clarify. “When water gets cold, it freezes.”

His eyes widen, his mouth opening in a soft o. “This is water?”

“Frozen water, yeah,” you try to get back on topic, even though you find it odd that he knows what water is, but not ice. “Do you feel anything?”

“Cold,” he says, pulling his hand out. “It feels cold.”

You reach over and grab his hand in your own, running your thumb over his palm, finding the stone there as cold as one would expect to be after submerged in a pile of ice. “But you can feel it? Does it hurt?”

“It feels,” he thinks, brow furrowed, eyes decidedly glued on where your fingers touch, “pinching, but also not. As though I’m being poked by needles.”

That sounds cold to you, remembering the way your skin prickles when met with chilly air. So he can feel temperature changes, but can’t be deterred by one of your mean hooks, which you suppose is an interesting discovery. You might posit that it also doesn’t make the slightest lick of sense, but then again, a slab of lovingly carved stone is walking and talking, so you guess you can’t really be the judge of what is weird and what isn’t at the moment.

He slyly places his other hand over yours, wholly focused on tracing the path of your fingers while you… kind of just let it happen. If it was anyone else, you might have yanked your hand out of their grip, but you just sort of sit there and allow him to observe the curves and scars of your hand. While he does so, he’s quiet, not so much as whispering a single word that would cause you to leave, and is instead seems satisfied with the silence that settles over the kitchen. You can’t say that you’re uncomfortable with the way he touches you, his gestures so very gentle even though he’s a fucking rock.

“You’re an artist,” he says finally, his voice soft and sweet.

He’s only seen you working the brunt of the job, not the finer details that you pride yourself with. “How do you know?”

“The hands never lie.”

“And how would you know that?” You ask, a tad bit teasingly.

His eyes grow distant, feverish, as though he’s desperately trying to grasp something that’s just out of his reach. “I- I don’t rem-”

Someone’s at the kitchen’s back door, as instructed, knocking loudly and announcing that they’re the pizza guy. You’re very familiar with all the delivery people by now, and so you recognize the carrot-like hair of one of the pizza place’s employees, though you can’t recall his name. There’s cash in your back pocket, you always try to tip generously and under the table, and after exchanging a couple of words of pleasantries, you shut the door and go back to the table, pizza in hand. By this point, you’re practically frothing at the mouth for food, so statue be damned, you tear into the pizza like an animal once you’re sitting down.

Galateos watches with interest, observing the way you’re able to pull at the crust and place the triangular-shaped piece on a napkin that you decided to use as a plate because… you don’t have the energy to do dishes. As you eat, and subsequently feel a tad bit tired, you realize that there is going to be an issue with the fact that, problem one; you don’t know if you should leave him alone if he doesn’t sleep and problem two; there’s literally only one room that’s fully furnished and can house a person. You have been staying there, on your own, since going to some other hotel at night seems unnecessary, because this place is a hotel. Silently, you try to weigh the pros and cons of sharing a bed with him, and the only thing you seem to come back to is that you'd be able to keep an eye on him throughout the night.

He takes a couple of bites of the pizza, though scrunches up his nose with each one, seemingly unable to gather much of an appetite. Though he actually swallows the food, instead of spitting it right out like you might have expected, so that’s something, you guess. After you clean up, you sit with another mug of steaming hot tea, trying to relax yourself enough for sleep. He has a cup, too, though he stares at the liquid, and doesn’t really seem interested in drinking it.

You try to browse through the photos of the pamphlet again, trying to find something that might help you figure out just what the actual, literal fuck is going on. There isn’t really anything that might be considered out of the ordinary, there’s a transcript of the writing found at the base of the statue, back when he was standing still on the pedestal.

Μόνο ένας που μπορεί να αγαπήσει θα δώσει πνοή ζωής σε αυτό το σπλάχνο της γης

Όταν τα άστρα θα έχουν κινηθεί από τις θέσεις τους

Τότε ο γιος της Γεας θα αφυπνιστεί

Να γεννηθεί στην εποχή του μετάλλου και του κεραυνού

Όταν ο γλύπτης θα κείτεται νεκρός για τρείς χιλιάδες εύπρωκτα, εύπρωκτα χρόνια

There isn’t a translation available, which strikes you as odd. Maybe it hasn’t been translated yet? The pamphlet is a draft, after all. Maybe Marge has someone working on it right at this very moment and just hasn’t had the time to fully go over it yet. But… you look back up to the statue, who is bobbing his teabag up and down, watching the color of the water change. “Do you read Greek?”

“I don’t-”

“Just take a look,” you interrupt, holding your phone out in front of his face.

His eyes squint, pouring over the words on your phone, and it looks like he might actually be understanding what it says. That is, until, he sits back and offers you a shrug, mouth twitching. “I can’t.”

You let out a frustrated breath, but whatever. You knew it was a long shot, anyway. “Guess I’ll just have to wait until the official translator does their thing.”

Author’s Note:

A very special thanks to the wonderful @two-plus-two-is-four, my source for a lovely Greek translation of the inscription. I appreciate it so very much.

#exophilia #living statue #statue/reader #monster/reader #living statue x reader

[realsantana-blog]

Confessional #1(3/16/2019): A Complete and Total Lack of Substance

Word Count: 1665(You been warned)

Also Starring: Paul, the poor crew member who drew the short straw of babysitting Santana

Notes: This shit 100% got away from me, guys. I’m sorry.

Short Description: Santana acts stupid in front of a camera for far too long and for very little reason.

Long Description: It was after 5 in the morning and Santana had spent the majority of the night drinking and entertaining the cameras that followed her as she roamed aimlessly around the hotel in San Francisco. Suddenly, she complained loudly that the cameramen were “bugging the sh-t out of her to do a confessional.”

They were not.

Nevertheless, the crew followed her to the vacant tour bus #2 and allowed her entry into the confessional room so she could get mic’d up. One hour and forty-eight minutes later, she passes out on the bus’s floor. The following series of clips showcase some of the things that were said during her first confessional of the tour.

A door is heard opening, followed quickly by a thunk of something falling on the floor. Santana’s voice, possessing a much stronger slur than normal, is the next recognizable sound, “Aw, f-ck. Hey Paul, I mighta broke something. You’re taking the fall for this one, right?”

A few moments later, Santana flops unceremoniously in the seat in front of the camera, cradling a bottle of clear liquid, the label having been blurred out. Almost immediately, she holds up a finger in a “wait” gesture, as if the camera was fixing to up and walk away at any moment. A second later, she belches and drops her hand down to her lap, wearing a look of simultaneous relief and annoyance, “That was sexy.”

The scene cuts to Santana pouring her “nondescript,” clear liquid out into a metal, isolated water bottle. Subtitles at the bottom of the screen as someone off-screen mumbles quietly, “What are you doing?”

“I’m making you’re jobs easier. If I drink outta this thing, ya don’t gotta blur the bottle out, in post,” Santana snarks, as if it was the most obvious thing. Her arms keep increasing the distance the bottles were from another, until she’s pouring the alcohol from a foot and a half above it’s destination.

“Okay,” the subtitles quip back, “But what if they use this clip for the episode?”

Santana pauses for several seconds, staring at the source of the voice, as if she had yet to consider this as a possibility, before settling herself with an irritated look, “Why would they use this? I’m not doing anything.” She follows this by going right back to pouring, then tossing the original bottle her over her shoulder as soon as she’s finished.

Another cut, and Santana, looking like she is finally “ready,” begins speaking to the camera, “I’d say the tour so far is going just f-cking swimmingly.” It’s not incredibly clear whether she says this with sarcasm. “Our new single Stay is rocketing up the charts, I gave birth to a cheesy boy band who’s lead singer appears to have been sneaking the other two members’ supply of hair gel, and I have at least a basic tolerance for pretty much everyone I was put on a bus with.”

She seems satisfied with this answer, until she scrunches her eyebrows, as if trying to remember something, before a sudden clarity washes over her, “Oh yeah, and I reunited with my sister. That’s fun!”

This time, her sarcasm is very apparent.

After a cut, Santana appears slightly more disheveled and finishes taking a drink from her “canteen.” She’s mumbling to herself, “work work work work work, yuh see me do me dur dur dur,” when she aggressively turns her attention to the camera. “That song has lyrics, by the way, IN-TER-NET,” she blurts in an offended tone, sounding out each syllable for emphasis. “I know that may be surprising to you well-cultured wastes of space, out there, that I am NOT just speaking gibberish in that song, but in fact am speaking in a Caribbean dialect. Ya know like Bob Marley do an’ sh-t.”

Having said her piece, she sits back in her seat with an eye-roll, looking casual once more.

“Whoever did the interior design for this room screwed your asses, by the way.”

“I feel like me and Emelia just have a very unique dynamic, as far as sisters go. It’s like... We’re two very different people, but like... Deep down. Like, very, very, deep down, we love each other.” Santana looks confident in her words, but has her business face on, as opposed to her standard states of amusement and/or annoyance.

“Very deep down,” she reiterates, with an assured nod.

About to take another drink, Santana grimaces and turns her opened bottle upside down, obviously expecting it to be empty, and lets a shot of clear liquid spill out to the floor. She stares blankly at the disposed contents for several moments, blinking as if in disbelief, “...Whoops.”

The Latina wears a bored expression, looking for something to say, when she once more pipes up, “Hey, you guys want the real scoop, though?” Her usual cat-like grin is in place as she speaks, “Max and Alex are totally f-ckin. Mhm. Watch ‘em closely. I assume Lia’s cool with it because if he hurts her I will ends him.” The last part is stilted, as if she realized what she was saying as she spoke.

“Paul, can you get me a drink? I’m dry as f-ck over here.” Santana is looking off-screen, wearing too sweet a smile for her face, until she snickers and aims a proud look at the camera, “Ha! In more ways than one, amirite?”

Her laughter dies down quickly, with her casting her gaze at the ground and sighing, “Ahh... That’s really depressing.”

“Really don’t get what’s going on with my sister. Like... I try getting her to have fun and I’m a bully. I leave her alone and I don’t care. I’m starting to think that it’s not anything I can do. It’s just me.” Since last bringing up her sister, her demeanor has changed. She’s swinging her arms around, as if trying to make sense of it all. As she continues venting, her voice steadily raises in volume. “Yeah... That’s it. Like, my very existence offends her! Like, the f-ck is up with dat sh-t?” She stops, as if she thinks she’s gonna get an answer of from the camera.

“Paul, go get me a drink!” Divine Destiny’s lead is now far more demanding as she makes her “request” to the man off to the side, out of range of the camera. “Paul! Paul, I know you hear me, you’re headphone lights are off. Get off your damn phone. Losing my buzz over here.” When she still gets no response, she leans back and crosses her arms, “You can’t have that many bitches texting you. You look like your forehead ate most of your hair. Do you WANT me to have to smoke weed on camera in order to continue this damn confessional you’re making me do.”

The subtitles make a triumphant return when Paul breaks his silence(again, off-screen), “I’m not getting you a drink.”

Santana slumps and groans.

“I mean, if either of us is being a bitch here, it’s CLEARLY Emelia, right? Like, I don’t wanna date her boyfriend. He’s too tall. Like, 6′8″ when you factor in the hair.” The air in the room now has a distinct thickness surrounding Santana, and her voice is the slightest bit huskier. “And I wasn’t ‘tainting’ her precious song. The song is about sex, so I was being sexy. I really don’t see how keeping in the spirit of the song’s theme is at all tainting it. It’s totally fine for her and Max to sing ‘Work’ without even having the foggiest idea what the words are, because I understand how to have fun and I had assumed that they meant it to be funny. But nope. If you ask my sister, they were ‘challenging’ me and by answering back, I was ‘challenging’ them harder.” Becoming increasingly incoherent and resorting to air quotes more and more as she speaks, Santana suddenly stops when she appears to lose her train of thought. “Whatever.”

Cutting to another clip, the seat that was once occupied is no longer, but it’s quickly filled again when Santana flings herself into it, carrying another glass bottle of some kind, raising it in victory, “Aha! You proud of me, Paul?” She cuts herself off to take a drink, her metal container apparently forgotten, “I got it myself because you’re too lazy to be useful.”

Her attention is diverted quickly, and she leans over in Paul’s direction, “Are those your chips, Paul? Paul, are those your chips? Paul. Paul. Paul. PAUL! I know you hear me, Fivehead! Paul! Feed me!” She slumps over the arm of the chair, groaning loudly, as if in physical pain, “PAUUULLLLL! I’m DYING!”

Clutching her now empty second bottle, Santana sobs violently, her make-up utterly ruined, “I just don’t understand why she hates me so much! I get that used to be a real bitch and I get that I made her feel like I didn’t care about her, but she just doesn’t get it! I know I made her think that she wasn’t good enough or that she was in my shadow, but when I normally do that with people, it’s because they really suck, and when I did that with Emmy, it was because I wanted her to be better! I just wanted her to grow a backbone and not let people like me walk all over her, anymore. Why can’t she see that I was a bitch to her because I love her! I made her feel horrible so that she would never wanna feel that way again!” With her rant over, she drops the offending bottle and covers her face, her voice softer but still muffled by tears, “And I really regret it. I’m so sorry, Emmy...”

Santana stands abruptly and storms toward the door as the camera fades out.

When the camera fades back in, Santana, once again in the hot seat, chewing loudly on something crunchy and staring intently at the camera. She lifts the yellow plastic bag in her hand and turns her head to peer inside. Even though the label has been blurred out, when she takes a potato chip from it and eats it, it becomes fairly easy to discern their brand, even with the packaging obscured.

Going back to glaring at the camera with an incredibly intense look, and a touch of dried mascara staining her cheeks, Santana swallows and asks very seriously, “You enjoying this, ‘Merica? Dis what you want?” She punctuates her interrogation with another bite of her snack.

“Y’all some sick f-ckers, ya know that,” she snarls. And with that, she leans back until the chair she’s sitting in tips over completely.

#cordellaconfessional #selfpara #para #//extra as all hell i know

[dreampvck-archived]

Hey uh do you by change have like a recs list for any of your favourite fics? Or any fics you think would be good to read?

u bet i do !!!

i tried to keep this list small by only reccing completed works but uhh.. it’s still super long lmao + in no particular order

Nu ABO: A Memoir by Park Jimin by decompositionbooks[Non-AU, ABO, Jikook, 34k]

The world didn’t think it was necessary to give him a guide when it shoved all of these omega hormones at him, so here it is, Park Jimin’s handbook on dealing with heats, unrequited love, and Jeon Jungkook.

Craigslist Date by springrain21[Fake Dating, Yoonmin, 48k]

Min Yoongi’s family are judgmental and unsupportive of his lifestyle and his mother won’t stop nagging him about how he’s still single. When he finds Park Jimin on Craigslist offering to pose as someone’s fake date to mess with their family, Yoongi can’t help himself. What starts as a prank on Yoongi’s family turns into something more when the two of them quickly develop feelings for each other. Will Yoongi, who doesn’t know how to handle feelings, let his chance at love slip away, or will he go after the silver-haired boy and hold onto him forever?

Inspired by that tumblr post about the guy on Craigslist who you can hire to be your date for Thanksgiving to screw with your family because that post makes me cry laughing every time I see it.

it’s your heart i wanna live (& sleep) in by knth[College AU, Vmin, 22k]

The first time Jimin sleeps over at Taehyung’s, it’s an emergency. The other times after? That’s a different story.

i’ve been drinking, i’ve been drinking by decompositionbooks[Bartender AU, Jikook, 12k]

Jungkook tries to figure Jimin out with Yoongi’s trademarked “What Your Drink Says About You” alcohol psychoanalysis.

All he knows is that Jimin likes fruity little drinks.

love in the time of social media by abillionstars[Non-AU, Taekook, 23k]

“You want me, an internationally famous celebrity living in a restrictive society that would tear apart any news of me dating, to set up a very public Tinder account under a fake name?” Taehyung cocked an eyebrow. “Just thought I ought to clarify.”

“Yes,” said Seokjin, looking strangely determined.

“Well, shit,” Taehyung said, exiting out of the Words With Friends game. “I’m in.”

In which Taehyung doesn’t swipe right on anybody at all (except in his heart), goes on absolutely no wild adventures, but ends up falling in love anyway.

honest you do by mnsg

[’We Got Married’ AU, Jikook, 26k]

“Do you think you’ll be a good husband?”Jimin smiles. “I’ll really, really try.”

Korea’s darling, Park Jimin, gets married.

pull me closer in the backseat of your rover by moonsuns[College fwb!au, Yoonmin, 14k]

Jimin had just wanted to get off. He didn’t think he’d end up with a boyfriend at the end of it all.

Or, another friends with benefits AU.

light me up (i’ll keep you warm) by kaythebest[College AU, Yoonmin, 13k]

He’s already taking a deep breath when he hears someone twisting the doorknob. “Jung Hoseok, I have a bone to pick with you, you absolute asshole,” he starts.

It is not Jung Hoseok.

Definitely not.

Min Yoongi.

Jimin coughs awkwardly into his fist. “Hello,” he finishes.

(In which Jimin has a crush, yells a lot, and maybe falls into like.)

The Emotional Journey of Park Jimin: Token Straight Guy[College AU, Yoonmin, 9k]

…Okay.Okay, so that was, uh. A thing that. That happened that was a thing that happened and everything is fine. Everything is fine! Perfectly normal! The prank they played on Hoseok went over swimmingly, because of course it did, and everything was fine.Except this one thing.Park Jimin can’t sleep.

Requite by wickedqriosity[Minjoon, Taekook, lil bit of Vmin, 74k]

requite (verb) 1 a : to make return for; repay. b : to make retaliation for; avenge. 2 : to make suitable return to for a benefit or service or for an injury.

Jimin, a soft-hearted retail supervisor, moonlights as a professional cuddler to buy a new loft.

When the object of his workplace obsession offers to help him move, and subsequently moves himself in, Jimin hopes that his lonely daydreams are coming true. Until, the silver-tongued squatter begins to demolish Jimin’s ‘happy place’ and inflict fresh wounds over old scars.

Devastated and frustrated, Jimin soon meets a new cuddle-client who encourages him to question—and ask for—what he really wants.

Kickstart series by Error401[Hitmen AU, Yoonmin, 35k]

“I-I don’t understand…” Jimin said, eyes watering as he focused on Yoongi. “I thought…you were going to kill me…in the bathroom.”

“Yeah, well so did I,” Yoongi said wryly, and Jimin flinched, trying to make himself impossibly smaller.

AKA It is a truth universally acknowledged, that Min Yoongi in possession of a heart will be in want of sleep.

Snapshot Vigilante by Error401[Superhero AU, Yoonmin, 58k]

Jimin knew that life in the big city would be different, but dealing with super powered mishaps and one piece of bad luck after another was a bit much.

Lucky him that the vigilante Suga was watching his back.

En Passant by Error401[Jikook, Criminal!Jimin and Cop!Jungkook, 10k]

“Hey,” Jungkook said, voice low, “whatever he did, he didn’t deserve that.”

“Oh?” Choi said, mouth twisting in amusement. “Did you know his boyfriend likes to sever heads and preserve them? I hear he’s got quite the collection.”

Jungkook felt his eye twitch. “That’s disgusting, and also not funny.” He glanced at the crying boy, who’d now curled his legs up to fit on the chair, his feet bare and as tiny as the rest of him. Lines of red were spilling from under the cuffs, dripping onto the table. “I’m going to find a first aid kit and treat those.”

“I wasn’t joking,” Choi said, as Jungkook slipped out of the room.

Conflicting Arrangement by PrettyBoyKiller[Fake Dating, Yoonmin, 162k]

“Absolutely not,” Yoongi deadpanned. “Namjoon-ah. I value you as a friend, and I think I’d even go as far as to say that you’re my best friend, but absolutely fucking not.”

“You owe me,” Namjoon pleaded. “Come on, Yoongi, it’s not a big deal.”

“Your boyfriend’s best friend’s best friend needs a fake boyfriend to come out to his family this Chuseok, all the way in fucking Busan.” Yoongi repeated drily without pause, making Namjoon wince. He flipped a page of his textbook, picking up his highlighter. “Not a big deal, Namjoon. Amazing.”

refrigerator humming, chewing gum and instant karma by locks[Mafia AU, Taekook, 61k]

Taehyung sets the flowers down on the dining table, plucking the card off the little holder. “Dearest Taehyung, just wanted you to know that I’m thinking about you. I hope you’re thinking about me too. Love–” he pauses and squints before cocking an eyebrow and pursing his lips. “Hyung, why is the boss of your little boy band gang professing his love for me?”

Yoongi drops the noodles on the floor with a loud curse as he burns his hand.

Or, Taehyung’s been trying his hardest to avoid Yoongi’s criminal life for a long ass time, but a cute kid and his infuriating father keep pulling him deeper into the mix.

Barbershop SUGA series by MissterMaia[Hairdresser AU, Yoonmin, 35k]

Jimin’s impromptu visit to a salon called SUGA turns out to be more interesting than he expected. Way more interesting.

Hey, Piano Man by MissterMaia[Bartender AU, Yoonmin, 15k]

In which Yoongi, after having his evening completely ruined by a drunk asshole on his way home from a rough day at the studio, decides he himself needs to get drunk and wanders into an old-fashioned pub. He may or may not find his bad mood washed away by the cute bartender, and he may or may not end up completely and utterly smitten when said bartender gets on the small stage and starts singing in the most angelic, beautiful, seductive voice he’s ever heard in all his life.

“You play the piano?”

“I… yeah, I do, actually. How’d you know?”

The bartender’s smile is shy and confident all at once, and Yoongi’s heart lurches in confusion. “Just a feeling,” Jimin says softly, busying himself with drying a glass. “Your hands are beautiful. They look like they were made to play an instrument.”

in your eyes (it’s where i wanna be) by bonnia[Coffee Shop AU, Yoonmin, 5k]

Jimin pauses with his marker inches away from the cup, because — is he really going to do this? Isn’t it a bit old-fashioned to write something flirty on a coffee cup? But no matter what his churning gut says about danger and what the hell are you doing do you want to die, this guy is — with no better way to put it — totally Jimin’s Type with a capital T.

(Or: Jimin accidentally starts a nickname war with the cute blonde who likes his coffee way too bitter.)

Hit The Lights by lethallergic[College AU, Taekook, 7k]

1-800-HOTLINEBLING

You’re My Genie, Lamborghini (You’re My Teenie Weenie Meenie) by mindheist[Youtuber AU, Jikook, 7k]

You know those people who say technology is driving people apart? Yeah, fuck them.

Out of My System by xxdevillishxx[College AU, One Night Stand AU, Yoonmin, 101k]

Yoongi likes one night stands and he understands how they work. What he doesn’t understand, however, is how he ended up in bed with a probably-not-legal kid crying in his arms about his broken heart, because he’s pretty sure (and correct him if he’s wrong) that a babysitting job was not what he was looking for when he went to the opening of his friend’s new club.

when you’re in love all the lines get blurred by jflawless[Fake Dating AU, Yoonmin, 36k]

Jimin isn’t sure what possessed him to lie to his mother and tell her that he had a boyfriend, but now that he’s opened the position, he has no choice but to fill it. Yoongi is, apparently, his only option.

dating for dummies by sugasus[High School AU, Taekook, 12k]

in which twitter is evil, jeon jeongguk is a bit tsundere, park jimin is satan and kim taehyung may or may not have a boyfriend.

those are a bunch of my faves, lemme know if you want more of a specific pairing !! 💖💐

#anonymous #replies #bts fic recs

[countessklair]

Harvey ‘Cannon’ Sanchez, Head of Combat Training Division for the Avengers Initiative

“Sometimes I feel like giving up. Then I remember I’ve got a lot of motherfuckers I need to prove wrong.”

Harvey Sanchez was born in Miami, and by all accounts had a normal life there, immersed in the culture of a Latin American, his family still telling stories from Mexico while making stories in America. He grew up proud and so totally secure in himself he never felt the need to be anything else. He went to school for an Engineering degree, and he loved his major, he did, but he caught sight of a Marine Corps advertisement one day after graduation and knew immediately why Engineering had never cut it. His family thought it was strange that he wanted to go into the Marine Corps, because Harvey was a sweet boy, hadn’t ever had any fights at school. (That they knew of.) But Harvey, always a firm believer in fate and in his God’s plan, went with his gut the way he always did. Harvey was a natural, could make a weapon out of anything, and could almost unerringly win any given fight. (Truth was, he’d had a lot of practice dealing with the bigots that had been his schoolmates back home.) A few years went by before he was assigned to Black Ops under the leadership of Lt. Colonel Thaddeus Ross, serving directly under Captain Maureen Walker and alongside Dante Johnson, Gabriel Keller, and Leroy Rieker. Harvey knew within ten minutes that these men and this woman were going to play a very important part of his life, and treated them as fondly as he was able because of it. Harvey had always been good about getting people to fall into each other and work better together, it was one of his best strengths as a Marine, and this squad was no exception. In fact, it might have worked a little too well in the case of Dante and Gabe, who looked at each other in every single way Nicholas Sparks had ever described. It only took about a month before Maureen, Rieker, and Harvey placed bets on when the two men would get together.  Dante, as the XO, had taken it upon himself to test the combative readiness of Gabe, Rieker, and yes, Harvey too.   And while Harvey’s soft and caring nature was still such a big factor of who he was, it was his prowess as a combative that earned him the nickname ‘Cannon’; as in Dante’s own words, “He may not look like he’s got much muscle on him, but goddamn his fist hits you like a cannon blast.” Harvey soon held the squad record for most bar fights, often over his zero-tolerance policy on the remarks often made about himself or Gabe or Maureen in the bars they frequented. Harvey loved his squad, more than almost anything in the world, save his Mama. The summer after their first deployment to Afghanistan, when they were all home and missing each other like crazy, Maureen called them all up and invited them to visit her, her husband Sean, and their daughter Ava for two weeks in Missouri. Harvey left practically that minute, too excited to meet the little baby girl whose picture was always in Maureen’s helmet, and was thrilled to meet Maureen’s husband Sean, a retired Marine turned Private Investigator, and even though he had a grumpy demeanor which meant Sean and Dante got along swimmingly, Sean melted around Maureen. It was clear that the man lived for the women in his life, and Harvey understood how amazing Maureen was, he’d seen that in her since the moment he met Maureen. And then he met their daughter, Ava, who was easily the most charming girl Harvey had ever laid eyes on. Ava treated her mother’s squadmates like family, called them ‘Uncle’ through her gap-toothed grin, laughed and ran through the fields surrounding her house as easily as she breathed, and Harvey even got to (quietly) teach Ava a little about how to make a weapon out of every part of her body. Harvey wanted to give Ava the tools he had, so he taught her how to see around corners and look for threats in every facet of the world around her. Harvey taught her to be wary but to feel safe. Even when the squad was not deployed, the five of them stayed at each other’s homes, spending Fourth of July celebrations or Thanksgivings in Miami with Harvey’s family, spending Christmas/Hannukah joint celebrations or New Years with Leroy’s family in Atlanta, or tried their best to charm their way into babysitting Ava for a week so Maureen and Sean could be alone for a bit. The summer Ava turned six, Harvey and Leroy spent the month before deployment running back and forth between Atlanta and Miami, definitively proving that Miami was the best city for partying and food. (While also proving that Rieker was crazy.) That summer, while Harvey and Rieker’s greatest concern was that Gabe and Dante would be taking care of Ava, together, for a month, alone at night, hoping that through it, their family would get a bit bigger, someone else’s family got bigger. Eliana Lacasa, daughter of Andres and Isabella Lacasa, conceived a daughter after a one night stand with Harvey in Roswell, New Mexico. Eliana kept Harvey’s name, service number, and phone number close, but she didn’t call, and Harvey never knew about the little girl he left behind in New Mexico. When they were deployed a month later and Harvey learned that Gabe and Dante were still in the ‘Eternal Pining’ stage for each other, Harvey honestly considered locking them up together in a closet and refusing to let them out until they were honest with each other. As a whole, Harvey’s family was doing great and when they were deployed, there was always a sweet note Ava’d send with each one of them telling them that they were gonna be ok. It was a good luck charm for them. Until one day it wasn’t. Harvey didn’t really know what or how or why but one day, their barely tolerated commander Lt. Colonel Ross sent Maureen out into the field to complete a mission. Alone. And whatever Dante had seen in the mission specs made him go white with fury and worry but it meant nothing in the end, because all there was left was a body bag, a folded flag, and broken hearts all around. Harvey had heard of inept commanders before, but Lt. Colonel Ross took the goddamn cake. The bastard even got a promotion out of it. So, after finishing their tour while leaving a heartbroken man and his equally heartbroken daughter alone, Harvey suggested they all leave the military. Gabe and Johnson immediately agreed, sick of the lies and the secrets, because they didn’t fail to notice the weirdness surrounding Maureen’s death. Rieker, who wanted to give the Corps one more chance but refused to go into combat without Maureen, opted for switching tracks, sending himself to Arizona to train snipers for the Corps. And so for a few weeks, they parted ways, going back to their roots and trying to understand what the hell had just happened. Harvey’s family was heartbroken at Maureen’s death and outraged at whatever agenda or ineptitude had led to it. Harvey couldn’t blame them. Two weeks after arriving in Miami, while the Sanchez clan did what they could to soothe Harvey, Sean, and Ava’s broken hearts, Gabe called him and said there was no point in waiting any longer. The two of them tracked Dante down to a bar he’d inexplicably bought, standing there unsure of what to do. And the four of them got to work and fixed it up, fixed it up so that there was enough room on the upper two floors of the building could support seven living there, comfortably. And honestly, even if Leroy and Sean didn’t understand it, Harvey understood why Dante bought the bar. Dante needed something, anything, that he could understand, and so it was inevitable when he became a street vigilante. Because as things often do when you’re a man trained to eliminate targets, Dante and Harvey, even in the midst of helping raise Ava while Sean chased the shadows of his wife’s death, turned to cleaning up the crime around the bar to keep Ava safe and keep the voices in their heads silent. Gabe followed them, rolling his eyes at their stupidity and patching them up every time, though his hands never failed to linger on Dante, and not long after Ava’s fifteenth birthday, Rieker came back to them for good, dragging along a man named Wade Wilson who carried a dishonorable discharge like a black mark on his soul. Rieker started helping out with their ‘odd jobs’ around the globe, while Dante hired a man he and the bar patrons called Weasel to attend to business while they were away. And Ava grew and grew, became stronger and quicker and smarter, so fucking smart so used to searching for answers she could find one anywhere she looked, and everyone was so fucking proud. Sean dropped Ava off at Harlem three weeks before her eighteenth birthday, his eyes alight with the promise of victory, saying he was close to every answer they'd ever needed about what had happened when Maureen died, he knew it. Sean left Harlem whole and hopeful for the first time in years and came back, just like Maureen, in a body bag, two weeks later. Once again, Harvey helped Ava bury a parent, and Harvey buried another dear friend. Harvey trained more with Ava, desperate to prepare her for something he knew he’d never see coming. Gabe helped her too, and the two of them taught her how to fight and how to win. But all around between the four men that were left as parental figures in their little Ava’s life, easily their proudest day was when Ava went to Harvard to pursue a motherfucking triple doctorate, because, as Walkers were ought to do, she never did anything by halves. Harvey got that strange itch on the back of his neck that something was weird about the offer of her internship at whatever top-secret spy organization had offered it to her, but Ava insisted and they relented. And two years later he was grateful for it because he knew that sometimes they didn’t get away from their jobs clean, especially with Dante’s rap sheet, but they got away with quietly making the world a better place each and every time. Now, if only Gabe and Dante would just get over it already and admit their undying love for one another, once Dante got out of jail, everything would be perfect.

Faceclaim: Nicholas Gonzalez

#Venger Fam Legacy #VFL CAS #Harvey 'Cannon' Sanchez #two roads diverged fic #story on AO3 #Aesthetic #Demisexual and Aromantic Boy

[turnupswritessometimes]

SoRiku - Hearts of Ice and Fire - Ch3

Title : Hearts of Ice and Fire

Word Count (for chapter three) : 2,903

Summary :  Prince Sora of the Destine Isles has been kidnapped by Maleficent. Held in a cell, he comes into contact with the Prince Maleficent has been training his whole life, Riku. As Sora unpicks Riku’s attitudes, Riku finds himself reconsidering everything he has been taught.

REPOSTING BECAUSE TUMBLR WON’T PUT POSTS WITH OUTSIDE LINKS IN SEARCHES SO IT’S UN

Chapter Three:

Riku obeyed his promise. He took the long route through the castle to his room. He went to dinner, and became once more the epitome of what Maleficent wanted him to be. He was the perfect, groomed heir to the throne once again. He was ice.

But he couldn't push thoughts of Sora from his mind.

For two nights, he brought his mirror close to him. Lay under his duvet with his face inches away from the glass so that Maleficent may not notice; if she or one of her spies happened to look in.

It was boring. And creepy. He knew that.

But it was safer than talking to him again.

He just couldn't stop thinking about those two, incredibly blue eyes. The small, knowing smile. He found himself thinking of a hundred different conversations, but he could never tell how Sora would react. What he would do. It was more infuriating than being with him.

So he thought - just a look - just a check - but it only made things worse.

A week went by. Troops were being organised; readied to move against Destine Isle.

Riku was unable to sleep, not so much from the excitement of heading to Neverland with Maleficent tomorrow, but because thoughts of the Prince were nagging him.

With an internal groan at the inability to control his feelings, Riku grasped the mirror.

And then almost dropped it.

There was a hole in the cell!

He forced himself to breathe. He could handle this. Just tell the guard -

The guard would want to know why he knew. Maleficent would want to know why he knew.

How could he tell her that  he'd been spying on the Prince more than ever?

He couldn't tell the guard.

He grabbed his cloak and opened his door gingerly. As with all doors in the palace, it creaked loudly.

Riku snuck down the corridor as quietly as he could, willing himself into the shadows. He still felt like everyone would hear him.

There was an imp standing guard outside of Sora's cell, but on closer inspection, Riku found that he was snoring soundly.

Or, perhaps, pretending to.

Riku slipped the key off of it's hook on the wall, unlocked the cell, and slipped inside.

The Prince was crouched at the other end of the cell, furiously rubbing something against the wall.

Riku swooped towards the boy, and placed a hand on the Prince's shoulder.

Sora let out a squawk, and Riku pressed his hand firmly against the shorter boy's mouth.

"The guard will hear!" Riku hissed into the Prince's ear. Once Sora stopped struggling, he pushed the Prince away, glancing towards the door as though he could see through it.

"Aren't you the guard?" Sora whispered.

Riku didn't answer. Instead he turned to the tunnel in the wall - which he now found was more of a domed dip, hardly half the width of the wall.

"Are you trying to escape?" he demanded.

Sora blinked at Riku.

"You - do know I'm being held captive?" he said. "I'm - meant to be trying to escape?"

"Not on my watch," Riku muttered.

"But you haven't been here," Sora said. He tilted his head to the side like a puppy, but his eyes were narrowed suspiciously. "Where have you been?"

"I've been busy," Riku snapped. "I can't just sit around babysitting you all day."

Sora's suspicious eyes turned into a suspicious pout.

"At more war meetings?" he asked.

"Yes," Riku leapt onto the excuse.

The pout deepened.

"That's why I have to leave. I have to warn my father." Sora said, pushing past Riku to the dip.

"I can't let you do that," Riku said, pulling Sora back by the elbow. He was unpleasantly light.

"We're a pacifist country!" Sora said, his eyes wide and imploring. "We won't even be able to defend ourselves!"

Riku shrugged.

"I guess it won't be much of a war then," he said. Then pointed to the dip. "How did you do that?"

"I'm not going to tell you," Sora said, the most defiant Riku had ever seen him. In fact, he looked almost angry.

"Fine," Riku growled. He pushed Sora away and glanced around the cell. It was so small that he easily spotted the sword lying on the ground. He had forgotten to take them with him!

He held it up to Sora, trying with all his might to capture the fierce look Maleficent wore. The Prince just glared back at him, that same angry pout on his face.

"How did you managed to make such a big hole with just a sword?" Riku asked. He kept his voice low. Gentle. Dangerous.

Sora shrugged like a sulking child.

"It's like carving initials into a desk," he muttered. "The stone is so old that it turned to dust. What are you going to do about it?"

What was he going to do about it? How could he tell Maleficent to check Sora's cell without letting on that he had been spying on the Prince.

"There will be," Riku paused. He hoped it came off as dramatic. "A suitable punishment."

"I don't think you're going to tell anyone," Sora said, boldly.

How could someone so childish see through him?

Riku just gave Sora a hard stare, before he strode back across the room.

A hand grabbed his elbow, surprisingly tight considering he could feel all the bones beneath the Prince's skin, even through his cloak.

"Why are you doing this to my country?" the Prince asked.

"Don't act like you don't know," Riku muttered.He went to leave the cell, but Sora tugged him back. He met the Prince's bright blue eyes.

"We have been nothing but peaceful for fifty years - we promote equal rights and opportunity - our economy doesn't take advantage of others-" Sora listed off, but was interrupted by a thud outside.

"I have to go," Riku muttered, and yanked his arm away from the Prince's as hard as he could.

Sora stumbled after him and Riku heard him slam against the door as he locked it behind him. He paused in the corridor, drawing the shadows around him. The guard had woken up with a start, clanging against the pot he had been sitting on.

He didn’t move as Riku passed. His eyes still closed. Maybe he hadn’t noticed anything.

*

Riku stared out over the barren plains of his country. A land of grey and muted yellow. Everything was dying or barren. ‘It wasn’t always like this,’ Maleficent’s voice echoed in his mind. ‘Once it was beautiful. You know who’s fault that is.’

Maleficent was across from him in the carriage, her chin resting on the back of her hand as she stared at the window calculatingly. It was the first time they were going to negotiate with the pirates of Neverland; they needed ships. Maleficent didn’t seem nervous at all.

“The guard’s tell me our puppy has begun whining again,” she said, her eyes flicking towards him.

“I wouldn’t know,” Riku said, forcing himself to remain stoic. As you always are. “I haven’t heard anything.”

She smiled at him, her eyes glittering.

“What do you know about the Destine Isles, Riku?” Maleficent asked.

It was a test. It was always a test.

“They promote democracy but the monarchy secretly rule everything,” Riku said. “The people’s choice is an illusion.”

“And?” Maleficent raised an eyebrow.

“And some people are born to rule,” Riku said the words obediently. Numbly. A dog waiting to be praised.

Maleficent treated him to a smile. Approval.

“And what did they do to your country?” she pressed.

My country. Our country.

I belong here.

“They spread a plague,” Riku said. “They wiped most of the vegetation and life from our country.”

“So?” Maleficent prompted again.

“So we’ll invade them,” Riku said.

Maleficent’s smile widened. A Cheshire cat.

“And if you’re a good boy,” she said, leaning forward. “You’ll take Prince Sora’s place.”

I’ll be Prince. I’ll be King. I’ll rule.

And no one will be able to tell me the right or wrong way to do it.

He could be even better than Maleficent. He knew it.

“I’ve been preparing for that my whole life,” he replied. Even he was impressed as how smooth his voice sounded.

“You’re doing so well, Riku,” Maleficent cooed. She stroked his fringe away from his eyes. “I’m so proud of you.”

She does care, Riku thought. She does care about me. She wants to see me safe.

She saved me for a reason. And I will prove that I am worthy.

Blue eyes flashed in his vision. Hurt.

It should bother him. It hadn’t before.

Still, he thought, as the carriage trundled on. Something had to be done about the hole.

The hole in the cell, and the hole in his ice.

*

Riku went to the library as soon as they returned from Neverland, triple checking that no one had followed him. He had learnt to pick normal locks through trial and error when he was younger - a lot of idle time and curiousity. He had no friends his age here, and the imps had only been interested in teasing him. So the library was the best place to go if he wanted to be productive. Maleficent had always told him to be productive.

He had discovered a small number of books which didn’t have magical locks on them.

One of these was a harmless spell book.

He poured over it, not daring to bring it back to his own room, and found the solution to his problem.

A spell for filling in holes.

He bided his time at dinner, playing into Maleficent's language games. The negotiations had gone swimmingly, even if the Captain was as vain as Maleficent. They had a ship - transport to the islands. The Captain - Hook - had fallen for Maleficent’s ploy - he was getting her more ships. The pieces of the jigsaw were beginning to fall into place. It would be easy.

It’s always easier when your opponent doesn’t fight back.

But for once, Riku felt he had the upper hand. Maleficent was pleased with his progress - at how he had handled himself - an ice cold Prince with biting remarks. She was confident her orders had been obeyed.

And they would be, Riku assured himself. Just after tonight. Then I won't see him again. I just have to fix my mistake.

That evening, he slipped valerian root into the guards water. Maleficent had always thought it was harmless to let him have access to books on herbs. Little did she know, he could turn any knowledge to his advantage. Knowledge was power. And Riku was desperate for any scrap of it.

He watched from his mirror until the guard was asleep, then left his room and entered the cell.

The Prince looked as though he was curled into the dip, but as he watched, Riku saw the Sora was furiously rubbing his hands against the wall. Sand trickled down the wall, making the dip bigger and bigger.

"Stop that!" Riku cried, pulling Sora away from the hole by his shoulder.

"No way!" Sora cried, his fists flailing as he fought against Riku's grip. "I have to leave!"

Riku caught Sora's fists easily, keeping him in place. The pads of the Prince’s fingers were rubbed raw - bright pink against the ivory of his skin.

"You really expect me to do what you tell me?!" Sora cried, as he struggled against the taller boy, flicking his hair away from his eyes. "You're the one keeping me captive!"

"Shut up!" Riku hissed, pressing Sora against the wall.

"You're horrible!" Sora yelled from under him. "You're picking on a pacifist country!"

Riku pressed his hand over Sora's mouth and leant in close.

"I'll explain everything about your country," he spat. "But right now you have to keep quiet or-"

Sora licked his hand and Riku pulled away, repulsed.

"Or what?" Sora asked, his eyes holding a mischievous glint in them. Not yelling, but not quiet either.

"Or you'll get whipped!" it was the first lie Riku would think of.

"I don't care!" Sora said. For a moment, they stood, fuming at each other. A dog and a cat facing off.

"What's gotten into you?" Riku asked. "A week ago you were - complacent! You didn’t do anything!"

"I didn't-" Sora’s face was drawn. His voice became serious suddenly. "I didn't think past myself - but now I have to - I need to be there for my country - I have to be a Prince."

"You could never be a Prince."

Riku forced his voice to be low. Dangerous. Cutting. ‘Words are just as harmful as a sword.’

Sora’s eyes didn’t spring with tears, as Riku had expected them to. Instead, they darkened. Those eyes looked like an oncoming storm.

"You're evil."

The words seemed to pierce Riku. For a moment, he felt as though he had been stabbed.

He couldn't even stammer a response.

"You’re so spiteful. I've done nothing to you," Sora hissed. "My country has done nothing to you."

"Your country is responsible for the plague that left our country with only a handful of survivors. You refused to help, and barred your doors to even your own citizens who needed you. And - and you never send allies to anyone in a state of war - you just hide away in the south and pretend that every thing's okay, even when the world is falling around you!" Riku replied, pressing venom into his voice, and feeling a spiteful joy when Sora's eyes widened. He looked like a vulnerable child.

"Who, for the love of all that is good, told you that?" he asked, more breath than voice. He was looking at Riku like he was a madman.

"My Queen. Maleficent," Riku replied.

"But she's," Sora was about to say 'evil', and they both knew it. "Maleficent was the one who spread the plague through our country. When we tried to reach her for negotiations, her citizens caught it too. She blamed us - and the curse redoubled in our country. We had to quarantine the sick in the city, but we took everyone who was well and kept them in the castle. You have to understand that there were so many people suffering - it was my father's only choice. We can't send allies to countries in need because we don't have an army - but we send supplies - rations - and weapons when we can. You have to understand - she's a liar - she's lied to you."

"Don't be ridiculous," Riku snapped. "You're the liar - you, and your king!"

Sora took a step backwards at the sound of Riku yelling. He shook his head in disbelief.

"You've got it wrong," he said. "Listen to me-"

"No," Riku knew he sounded like a small brat, but he had also heard a clang outside the cell.

"Riku, you're from my country - I can tell-"

"Stop it!" Riku snapped, pressing himself against the cell door.

Sora was fiddling with something under his collar, his fingers yanking at a delicate silver chain.

"I have proof," Sora said.

Riku had to get out.

"I'm not listening to any more lies," he yelled.

Sora pressed the pendant into his hand, desperately.

"Trust me, Maleficent is evil." The Prince said, his eyes wide.

Earnest.

Riku fled, barely looking back until he reached his room. He collapsed against hia door. His head felt light and his throat felt tight. He could hardly breathe.

Sora's words had hurt him. But he should have been able to brush them off. Like a punch. He had been called much worse. But they had never kept stinging him like this.

They had never made him feel shame rise in his stomach in hot, sickening waves. They still throbbed in his ears, returning any time he thought he was forgetting them.

Maleficent is evil.

You're evil.

And his accusations... that Maleficent spread her own plague.

“When we tried to reach her for negotiations, her citizens caught it too. She blamed us - and the curse redoubled in our country…it was our only choice.”

That they sent supplies to other countries…”We can't send allies to countries in need because we don't have an army.”

Why did they keep niggling at him, even when he knew that they weren't true? His mind kept asking ‘but what if that was true?’ ‘What if I’m wrong?’

He wasn’t, of course.

You’re from my country.

That was worse of all. Ridiculous. Absurd.

The Prince was lying. He had to be. The alternative would be…

Inconceivable.

#soriku #kh #sora kh #kh sora #riku kh #kh riku #riku #au #soraxriku #sora x riku #sora/riku #riku/sora #riku x sora #rikuxsora #multichap #fanfiction #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts fanfiction #kh au #kingdom hearts au #turnupswrites

[shelbsrandomblurbs-blog]

Flour Sack Baby (short story)

i couldn’t not write a quick story about the classic flour sack baby project and our favorite cinnamon rolls

~

“ADRIEN!”

“IM SO SORRY OH MY GOD!”

it was the fifth time Adrien dropped Petunia, their project, that counted for 60% of their grade

“please just try and be more careful”

Marinette said plucking the heavy sack from the bakery floor and blowing away the evidence.

“i’m not very good at this nurture thing, i’m gonna be the reason we fail”

Adrien said, still crumpled on the floor.

“i’m so sorry Marinette”

She thought that this project was a gift from some god above her, she got to spend all this time with Adrien and be with him for hours on end, now it just seems more stressful than blissful. But at the same time she pitied him. He didn’t have any brothers or sisters, but then again neither did she, all Marinette did was babysit from time to time. But Adrien didn’t have anything, a loving family, a sibling, he didn’t even have the opportunity to babysit any child. it just broke her heart to see him beat himself up.

“it’s okay”

She wanted to touch him, to offer some comfort, but she couldn’t muster up the courage.

He got the comfort himself by leaning his head into her shoulder and letting out the biggest sigh of his life, making Marinette as stiff as a board.

“here, let me try and put this in a better scenario”

She needed to say something so this head leaning thing didn’t become awkward.

“let’s pretend that this isn’t a baby, but a-ah-”

“a cat” he mumbled

“yeah! a cat! Think of it more as a pet than a baby, or a baby kitten!”

“Okay, i think that can work” She helped him to his feet and brushed whatever flour had gotten on him.

He sauntered over to where the sack was sitting on the floor, picking it up with both hands instead of one like he’s been doing. “i’m not going to drop you anymore, i promise”

Marinette giggled.

“What’s so funny?”

~

The next couple of days went swimmingly. Adrien hadn’t dropped Petunia once and they aced the midway check-up. He was learning slowly but surely, he even drew a little face on the bag. After spending all this time together Marinette’s parents invited Adrien over for dinner, after much protest from Marinette her parents insisted. They were only halfway through dinner and thunder bolts cracked across the sky.

“are you sure you don’t want to stay here for the night Adrien? That thunder storm seems very violent”

“mom”

Marinette hissed

Adrien turned around in his seat and looked out the window, it was down pouring.

“Let me ask my father”

Marinette let out a sigh of relief

there is no way his father would ever let hi-

“He said it’s okay, so i guess i’m sleeping on the couch?” He said, shooting a cheeky grin to Marinette.

“Oh! i’ll go grab a pillow for you sweetie, Marinette go into our room and get some of your father’s pajamas for Adrien please”

She scurried off into the other room and rummaged through her father’s drawers to see if there was anything that could even fit Adrien.

But the same thought kept running through her head

Adrien Agreste is spending the night at your house, what?

“Marinette! Have you found anything?!”

Her mother was shouting for her, snapping her out of her fan girl day dream.

“Coming!”

She grabbed the smallest pair of flannel pajama pants and one of Papa’s old shirts from high school, nothing else would fit him

“Yeah Petunia is quite the handful”

Marinette heard Adrien talking down the hallway. She could see him sitting with Petunia in his lap, talking with Papa.

“I have to admit i’m probably the worst candidate to be a parent but Marinette? She’s going to be a fantastic mother” Adrien said, while blushing like an idiot.

“Here’s some clothes for you”

“Oh, thanks”

Her parents both stood there admiring the two, until Marinette shot them a harsh look saying to back off.

“Well we’re off to bed, it’s your dish night Marinette so no going to bed until their finished” Papa shook his finger at her.

“I got it”

And then they were alone.

Marinette immediately ran over to the sink to avoid any conversation with him, she always managed to make things awkward whenever she was around him.

She jumped about ten feet in the air when she saw two more hands dunk in the sink next to hers.

“Your parents are really nice” He smiled

“They like company, and they seem to really like you”

His face got bright red, he seemed as if he was beaming.

“I’ve never really had a family dinner like that, it was nice”

There were a couple moments of awkward scrubbing. She didn’t really know what to say. She knew his father wasn’t very involved but it was never her business in the first place.

“Do you think i can come back for dinner again?”

A smile split across her face

“Of course!”

“Great”

They finished off the last dish and Adrien walked around the living room not sure where to go.

“You can change into these and then sleep on the couch, o-only if you want to”

“Yeah, that’s fine”

She nodded and headed up to her room.

“Hey Marinette?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you, for everything”

She nodded again and turned to continue walking up the stairs, tripping on her way there.

“Oh no”

She just remembered that they never gave him any blankets. She gathered whatever leftovers were on her bed and ran downstairs.

“Adrien i-”

She tried her best not to break out in an audible “aww”. He was already passed out on the couch, holding Petunia.

Marinette made her way down the stairs and covered him up with the blanket, placing Petunia beside him. While she was making sure he was settled, he’d woken up and risen enough to kiss her cheek.

“Goodnight Marinette” oh my god

“Goodnight”

~🐱🐞 (sorry about the name Petunia btw)

#miraculous ladybug #marinette cheng #adrien agreste #adrien x marinette #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #chat noir #ladybug and chat noir #tales of ladybug and cat noir

[airmidtheawakened]

The Collector, Part 3

And now, Darlings, the next installment of our woes with the Collector: After conferring with the rest of my cabal, we set out to talk to Isaac’s little brother, Chris. Aces let us borrow her car. Getting to Chris's place wasn't an issue, since Pinstripes had gotten the address for us. Actually getting him to talk was a little more difficult. He was kinda the black sheep of the family, and hadn't actually spoken with his brother or late grandmother in years. When we got to his house - an older building in a not-so-nice area of town - a woman who I can only assume was his girlfriend answered the door. Saki and I were the ones talking. SiSi and Lipsy were staying in the car. We explained that we were friends of Isaac's and needed to speak with Chris right away. The woman said Chris wasn't home, so we pressed a little bit and got her to agree to give him a message for us. Figuring that was the best we could do, we started to leave. That's when we heard someone exit through a door on the side street next to the house and start booking it away from us. Saki and I gave chase. It didn't take us long to catch up, but before we could grab him ourselves Lipsy pulled the car around the corner and sped in to block the exit to the side street. Chris almost ran into the car. He was totally spooked. He tried to draw a gun on us, even! Thankfully some smoothing talking from Saki and myself got him to calm down enough to talk. He already knew his brother was dead, having seen it on the news, and wasn't too happy that we came around to rub salt in the wound. He wanted proof that we knew Isaac. SiSi got out the car and gave him a verbal what-for when he asked. She told him all about her basic training days with Isaac, which shut Chris up right quick. Of course he wanted to know why we were there, so we explained (as best we could without mentioning magic) what Pinstripes wanted and why he'd shot up our house. Chris didn't seem to really buy it, but we managed to get him to agree to hand over the watch to the Collector. On the condition that we'd get revenge for Isaac at some point. Which was fine. That's what we'd decided to do ourselves anyway. 

We gave him the watch and said our goodbyes for the day. We had lots of other business to attend to. Like going to the police. We were listed as "missing" on the morning news, and trying to avoid law enforcement was going to do us no good. We agreed to leave Saki with Aces (he didn't want to go anywhere near the cops with his expired visa) and came up with a story that we thought would hold up pretty well. It was mostly true: SiSi was on a date with Isaac, Lipsy was working late and came home in the middle of the attack, and they fled because SiSi was distraught and needed time to calm down. We'd say I was out partying and Saki was out of town. When we got to the police station they interviewed us all separately. The detective who talked to us was kind of a douche. You'd think that he'd show some sympathy to some young kids who just lost a friend and got their home shot up, but nope. Now that I think about it it's probably because he knew we were lying to him about some things. Our neighbors had seen me running away from the house so my story was blown right away. At least I managed to convince him I lied because I was worried about my dad getting upset with me if he found out what happened, so it wasn't all bad. I think the others managed to stick to their stories. When things started to falter for Lipsy he was smart enough to ask for a lawyer. Which he did by calling Mercy and requesting her help. Which means, of course, that the lawyer she sent was a total phony and probably hadn't set foot in a courtroom for any reason other than being accused. But he had credentials, so the police couldn't do anything about it when he came to pick us up. Let me paint you an image of this guy: Tall, ripped, wore an eye patch, and spoke with the thickest cockney accent one could imagine. I cannot begin to describe how entertaining it was watching him tear into those poor police officers. Nothing I could say would do it justice. We were with the police for a couple hours, but there was still a lot of time between then and when I had to see my dad. We went back to our house to pick up some clothes and other necessities (we couldn't stay there while it was still a crime scene), and drove back to Aces' to update her and Saki on the situation. The five of us just chilled for a bit, gave SiSi some time to herself to keep processing everything that'd happened, and waited for the time I'd agreed to meet my dad. We talked about what I'd tell him - what was okay to tell him - and how best to convince him to let me stay with my cabal. In the end I decided that convincing him I was with good people was the best way to do it. He already sort of knew Lipsy (We'd video-called him a couple a times for advice on how to fix up an old motorcycle Lipsy bought), and I was certain once he met SiSi and learned she was ex military that he'd been confident in my safety. My dad was staying in a hotel in Boston. By the time we got there he'd already arrived and gotten settled in. He wasn't exactly happy when I showed up with my cabal. He thought we'd have a conversation between just us. But I told him that they were pretty much family to me and I didn't care if they heard what he had to say to me. I told him that they were the ones I'd been abducted with, that together we were trying to piece together what happened to us and why we'd been taken. Of course my dad was skeptical. He asked what we'd found out. I looked around at my cabal before I told him. They all nodded at me, to say it was okay. I explained that it was because whatever the group was thought that we were trash. They took Saki because he was gay, Lipsy because he was deaf, and me because I was a slut. I said I still couldn't remember what happened to me specifically, but Saki did and he'd been tortured. To my dad's credit, he stayed pretty calm during it all. He wasn't okay with anything I said - far from it - but I'd expected a little more of an emotional response to hearing his baby girl had probably been beaten near to death for liking to have sex. It was... weird. And then he said if he'd pushed me towards more "conventional" interests then maybe none of it would have happened. That hurt. I know my dad doesn't like that I sleep around, but blaming himself for my perceived weaknesses of character wasn't far. Especially when the whole reason I am the way I am is to piss off my mom. And besides, it was the fault of the people who took me! There was no blame to throw around except at them. It was clear that we weren't going to come to any sort of agreement on me staying in Quincy, but at least Dad wasn't going to force me to leave. I promised to spend the afternoon with him the next day so we could have some time just for us. I know it wasn't fair to sic my entire cabal on him like that (even if it was necessary), so I wanted to make it up to him. That, for the most part, ended our evening. With the exception of one thing. As we left the hotel, Lipsy happened to catch the attention of an absolutely beautiful chocolate lab. The dog trotted right up to him and started nuzzling and licking his hand. The dog didn't have a collar or anything. We were a little suspicious, so I gave it a once-over with my spirit sight turned on, and sure enough the dog was a spirit. A pretty powerful one too. So I knelt down and bowed my head to acknowledge it's rank, and told my cabal we wanted to be friends with this one. And then the dog-shaped spirit told me I had nice tits. I could tell we were going to get along swimmingly. Turns out Mr. Chocolate Lab's real name was Ceras, and he was the same type of spirit as Edgar. Edgar had called in a few favors to get Ceras to watch over Lipsy. Edgar wasn't sure how long it would take for him to rebuild his physical form and he wanted to make sure Lipsy had someone looking out for him. Edgar can be a real sweetie sometimes. That said, Ceras seemed more interested in ogling me than babysitting. Which was weird at first because you know, he was a dog, but then he changed his form into a suuuuuper attractive young man and well... things were less weird. For me, anyway. I don't think Lipsy appreciated it much. But a girl has needs, you know? And if there's a nice looking, sentient being willing to help me with those needs... well I'm not going to say no, now am I? And before you ask: Yes, spirits are perfectly capable of doing the nasty. Assuming their of a high enough level of power and sentience to take on a physical body. So that totally happened once we got home that night. Score one for Airmid! And that, I think, is a good place to stop. We had our final confrontation with the Collector the next day, and I think it deserves its own special recording. Until then, my darlings, stay safe!

#IC #Session recap #Mage: The Awakening #Mage the Awakening #Onyx Path #NWod #WoD #World of Darkness