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nad-zeta · 3 years

Text

Mitsuhide- The Blind Date

Fandom: Ikesen

Pairings: Mitsuhide x Reader

Genre: Modern Au

Warning: Alcohol

Words: 1800+

Comments: Eeeeep, guess what time it is???? Whooop Whooop! //dances around ❤❤❤😳🥺🥺😳❤🌈 This week gonna be funnnnn!

.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’ .*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’･ﾟ｡.*:・’ﾟ: ｡.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ

How in the high heavens did Mitsuhide allow this to happen. Had he truly lost his mind—gone entirely insane— or perhaps he had been drugged, yes, for there was no other logical explanation as to why on earth he would humour his friends so.

Sitting on the high stool at the bar, he checked his phone, 8:53— he would give her seven more minutes and then he was going to yeet out— that way, at least he could tell the other that he ‘tried’. After all, that was all he promised his friends— that he would show up—nothing more, nothing less.

Tracing his finger along the rim of the whiskey glass, Mitsuhide contemplated the events that transpired leading to this rather unfortunate present day.

All his friends were either dating or married—tragic really—and for some or other reason, they felt the need to pry into his personal life. “Don’t you want to share your life with someone,” the mother of the group started, which inevitably only caused the rest of the group to latch onto the idea and turn the once serious board meeting into a game of matchmaking. It certainly didn’t help that he agreed to a blind date willingly— well semi willingly, anything to get them off his back— adding a condition of his own, that the mouse would have to agree to it from her side without intervention from theirs.

He was confident she would refuse, from the words of friends, she certainly sounded like someone of likewise thinking— a fellow workaholic with no time for dating. But she — to his great surprise— accepted.

It made no sense to him. What made even less sense was why his friends thought the two would click, as personalities and hobbies certainly didn't seem to gell well— at least not in his mind.

Not that any of that mattered as time was ticking away, and she had one more minute to show up before he would call it a night.

A myriad of texts illuminated his phone, and Mitsuhide could only release a dejected sigh from the latest of messages plaguing the group chat. “Be nice and behave yourself,” the mother hen had said.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” came the instigation from Masamune, followed by an array of winking faces and smirk emojis. Now you can only imagine the chaos that unleashed upon the group chat with each member laying their own little egg and nugget of wisdom.

“M-Mitsu?” a soft unsure voice spoke up from beside him, tapping him gently on the shoulder.

Switching his phone off, he plastered a snek-like smile across his features before turning his sharp eyes onto the unfortunate little victim of his company.

“My, you must be the little mouse I’ve heard so much about," came the sly words from his mouth as he gestured for you to take a seat beside him.

With a slight smile shot his way, you took up residence on the tall barstool, “In the flesh,” came your cheeky voice as you shrugged off your jacket and placed both elbows on the table to rest your chin upon your hands.

“And you must be the detective?” you quipped back.

Mitsuhide smiled at that, eyes taking on a mischievous glint as he leaned in closer to drop his voice to a dangerous whisper, “of sorts,” he quickly looked behind him — to add to the suspicion— before returning his attention to you, “and you, my dear, have unfortunately been set up and caught in the foxes trap.”

He kept your gaze in all seriousness.

He was sure you had heard the rumours of his interrogation methods, being no secret at all in the little town you occupied, people, unfortunately, liked to gossip — and whether the rumours of his wicked ways of getting information out of suspects had been spread intentionally or not, people tend to move with caution around him. It was, unfortunately, the nature of his job, and as such, led him down this long lonely road.

You narrowed your eyes at the man, silence befalling the pair of you as you held his gaze before responding in an equally intimidating voice, “have you now, or is it you who has been caught in my trap.”

After another pause, you threw your head back in a burst of laughter without a care in the world. 'He seems fun,' you thought, shooting a wink in the direction of the bartender in thanks for the whiskey on the rocks. You picked up the crystal glass and swirled the liquid around before taking a long sip. It had been a long day, so much so that you almost wanted to stand the poor man up, yet you came anyway, if only for a stiff drink to ease the tension of the day.

“So, Mr fox detective, sir, what’s wrong with you that your friends felt the need to set you up on a blind date, and with me of all people! Do they hate you or something?" you asked, tilting your head to the side in curiosity.

In the dimly lit bar, you gave Mitsuhide a quick once over— he was handsome, in a dangerous, mysterious kind of way. He reminded you of a creature of myths— a kitsune— with his white hair and golden eyes accompanied by that razor-sharp smile. Perhaps that is why the rumours surrounding him were all so believable to the simpletons of the town who had nothing better to do than gossip— cause heaven forbid they do actual work for a change. Relatively speaking, you had not paid the gossip much mind. Instead, you were in the business of judging a book for yourself and not by what others rated it as.

“I could ask the same of you, little one?” he returned the question back to you, resting his chin on his hands.

“Well, to put it simply, my friends don’t know the difference between being alone and being lonely,” you said with a sigh, taking another sip of the drink in front of you.

Mitsuhide nodded in response, long fingers tracing over his glass thoughtfully with a hum of acknowledgement as you continued. “I knew if I refused to come tonight, they would just pester me until I agreed, so, in the name of some peace and quiet, here I am,” you ended off with a laugh and shake of the head.

Perhaps that was not entirely true; sometimes, you wondered what it would be like to find love— to have company to attend the various friend’s weddings with— after all, you were forever the bridesmaid and never the bride.

On the other hand, he knew the struggles of meddling friends all too well, and of course, the endless headache that accompanied the refusal of their ‘help’. He lifted his glass towards you, features softening as eyes crinkled at the seams in a semi genuine smile, “to meddlesome friends.”

You smiled brightly at that, clinking your glass with his as a comfortable silence befell the two of you—it looks like you had more in common than just your workaholic ways.

After a couple of minutes had passed, both your phones lit up at the same time, with an array of nosy friends asking about the ongoing date. And the two of you couldn’t help but burst into laughter and shake your heads in unison, “Unbelievable,” you spoke, taking another sip, an idea forming in your head to get them off your case for a little while longer.

Mitsuhide raised a curious brow at you as you silently lifted your phone, scrolling between the apps before landing on the camera. You shot him a mischievous smile before throwing your arm around his shoulder to pull him closer to you, “What do you think they would say if we sent a selfie,” you said, looking into the camera smiling brightly as finger spammed the little circle capturing a dozen or so photos before Mitsuhide even had time to rebuff. You never did mind creating a bit of chaos, and what better way to do so than, god forbid, you actually hit it off with the man.

“I wonder,” was all he said with a sly smile, and to your surprise, Mitsuhide actually smiled in a handful of the ones captured.

You quickly edited the picture, posting it onto the group with a cheeky caption; however, before locking your phone once more, something in the image caught your attention—a little sticker on Mitsuhide’s trench coat lapel. Your brows furrowed as you zoomed in to inspect it before they lifted to the man beside you, to see it in person. With a curious smile and finger pointed out to the little fox sticker, you couldn’t help but ask, “What’s with the little fox?”

“It’s a long story, my dear,” he said with an air of mystery, but you persisted, leaning closer to get a better look.

“Well, I have time,” the words fell from your mouth, followed by another round of drinks ordered.

“You truly wish to know, little one?” he replied with glowing eyes. And that was the beginning of the end.

The origin story of the fox sticker led to another, that, then led to another and then another. Until a fun game started between the two of you— a story for a story— each new tale accompanied by a new round of drinks ordered.

It was now your turn to tell yet another exciting story, this time about your childhood of all things, however, time had quickly slipped away, and before you knew it, your eyelids started to grow heavy with sleep, words coming out slower and slower until finally your head fell and landed on Mistuhised shoulder.

“My, my little one, you should not let your guard down so easily with a man like me,” the tender words were spoken; it was one of those rare occasions Mitsihide dropped his foxlike mask and wore a genuine smile.

He looked over to see you sound asleep, and it seemed that his fingers moved to their own accord, reaching up to twirl a strand of your hair between his fingertips. After a moment or two, he shrugged off his trench coat and draped it over your shoulders to keep you warm and protected from the cold night’s chill.

“Come along, little mouse; I believe it is time for sleepy mice to go to bed.”

He then proceeded to gently hook his arm around your legs and waist, picking you up bridal style and cradling you to his chest.

“You truly are a troublesome little one, whatever shall I do with you,” he spoke fondly as he carefully loaded you into the passenger seat of his car before securing the seatbelt around you, while you, completely unstirred, remained fast asleep.

You awoke the next day in your own bed, splitting headache nagging at your temples as unfocused gaze locked onto a glass of water and aspirin left by your bedside. Sitting up, you wasted no time taking the hangover cure, memories of the previous night flooding your head.

“Shit shit shit shit,” you curse under your breath, throwing yourself back and covering your head with a pillow— how very uncool of you to just pass out in front of a stranger like that, never mind how unsafe.

Your phone buzzed on the bedside table beside you, cutting your groans of embarrassment and cringe short, replacing it instead with a broad smile upon reading the text from your mysterious date.

#akechi mitsuhide #ikemen mitsuhide #mitsuhide fanfic #mitsuhide #mitsuhide x reader #ikesen akechi mitsuhide #Hehehe is a new birthday bash afoot?#i wonder?

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

Text

Its Own Reward

Fandom: The Bad Batch

Words: 2,098

Summary: If, at times of unseemly emotional vulnerability, Tech found himself longing for the one thing The Bad Batch didn’t have... well, that was between him and his overactive mind, thank you very much.

Warnings: Mentions of blood/injury later on, but very minor

A clone's favorite game, in the whole wide galaxy, was Picture Your General.

Picture your general in the heat of battle, lightsaber flashing, tearing through Separatist forces with the intensity of a Kaminoan storm.

Picture you general in the aftermath, entering a meditative state, calming the battalion with their mind alone.

Picture your general giving an order and you, standing tall, accept it with pride. Picture yourself as their right-hand man. Their greatest asset. The tool that will win this war.

Of course, at this stage one brother or another would point out the flaws in the fantasy. "Only a few of us will ever speak to them," they'd say. "You're not making Captain. Commander? Dream on. And watch the arrogance, vod. We're important, sure, but we're disposable too. No one is going to mourn us when we fall, certainly not a Jedi."

From there they would either grow quiet in discomfort, or pummel the offender with whatever was in reach, depending on the makeup of the group. No matter the outcome though, the game would inevitably repeat just a few hours later, picked up by everyone from the youngest cadet, to soldiers a day from their first assignment. Every clone in existence wanted to picture their general; imagine up a person worthy of the Kaminoans' stories and, though shared with more reservations, imagine the place they'd find at their side.

Every clone, that is, but Tech.

Well, he supposed Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair might be the same, but that was a hypothesis he hadn't tested yet. Out of everything Tech still needed to learn, that was rather low on his priority list. Meanwhile, spending time on a useless game was downright foolish. Oh, he had nothing against games on their own — they fostered a number of desirable outcomes, including, but far from limited to, a social comradery that would serve them well in battle — but this game, Picture Your General, had nothing to offer him. For the simple reason that Tech would never have one.

It was a fact the Regs took great pleasure in pointing out. Frequently.

"Ignore them," Crosshair said, stealing an extra ration off Tech's tray. History implied that he wasn't actually that hungry, merely interested in teasing Wrecker with the extra food. He'd pretend to save it for most of the night until, inevitably, handing it off as a grudging, midnight snack. Crosshair played with the food, but Tech knew his attention was on the rowdy group to their left. "They're not worth it."

Given that it was just the two of them, Tech allowed himself a scowl, snatching the ration back. He had nothing against Wrecker receiving additional food, especially given his fast metabolism, but it was the principal of the thing. This was his. "Says the man who instigated four altercations this week."

"I like riling them up." The food moved back to Crosshair's side of the table. "You don't."

"You're mistaken. I take great pleasure in correcting our less cordial brothers. Though their initial claim is sound, the reasons for why we will not be assigned a Jedi are erroneous in the extreme."

"You mean that we're useless, unwanted defects who don't deserve to lick a Jedi's boots?"

"While I wouldn't have phrased it quite like that... yes. It's factually incorrect."

"Hmm. Your face doesn't say 'factually incorrect.'"

"That's because you're stealing my food!"

"You're mistaken," Crosshair mimicked, this time stuffing the ration deep into his pocket where Tech didn't have a hope of reclaiming it. "Ignore them."

Tech rarely denied himself the chance to speak at length on any topic he pleased, but this time he bit down on the retort that he literally could not. The Kaminoans had ensured that he picked up and payed attention to everything around him, even what he didn't want to hear.

Still, clones were nothing if not adaptable and very little in this galaxy was black and white. The very thing Tech craved was also evidence of his greatest joy: the rest of his squad. They weren't made for a Jedi, they were made for each other. The Regs might have seen that as another defect, but Tech understood the inevitability of balance. If he wanted something as remarkable as his team, he had to give up something else in turn.

Like the knowledge that someone else, anyone else, was fighting for them. To the Kaminoans they were property. Expensive and prized property, no doubt, but even the most beautiful tool would be discarded in time. To the other clones they were outsiders, a blight on everything else they took pride in. And to the Jedi they were... non-existent. Or near enough, Tech supposed. When called to assist a battalion they usually did so on the outskirts, getting into the enemy territory their brothers couldn't negotiate, leaving for the next suicide mission by the time they'd caught up. It resulted in a reputation that was, ironically, quite uniform, given their otherwise individualistic looks and personalities. The Bad Batch was a team of four who did what other clones couldn't. That's all the Jedi needed to know; presumably wanted to know. And Tech could hardly fault them for that when in the midst of a war. Like him, they had much more important matters to occupy their thoughts.

That naïve indifference — an inability to be seen — might have been bearable if Tech hadn't accumulated such a clear picture of them. Oh yes, much of it came down to his academic nature, scrolling through datapads in the dead of night, soaking up information about anything, but especially that which was so crucial to the war... but there were stories too. The GAR was full of them. Whereas cadets played Picture Your General, soldiers spoke of the real thing, at times even more fantastical than their imaginings. Whispers spread through the ranks of Master Obi-Wan's compassion, claims that he fought for clones on and off the battlefield, giving as much respect as he demanded in turn. His former Padawan was, they said, as much a vod as any of them, prone to establishing an equality based on practical jokes and near-death situations — the kind of insanity clones were genetically predisposed to enjoy. There was talk that Unduli welcomed every soldier into her ranks with a Mirialan ritual, that Windu was fighting for clone rights in the Senate, even jokes that Plo Kloon had millions of adoption papers ready and waiting for the war's end... utter nonsense that last bit, of course. Yet every time Tech scoffed at a Reg's unseemly devotion, an awful little voice in the back of his head pointed out that the jokes had to stem from something. One did not craft rumors about a Jedi's kindness unless they had done quite a bit to establish it in the first place.

Tech didn't need kindness, only assurances. Bonds with the Jedi provided his brothers with a connection outside of the Kaminoans. They were building a network, however small, for the day this war ended. The Jedi Council would fight for the clones, Tech was sure of that... but would they fight for a shadowy, defective squad they knew little about? Their place in this galaxy began with each other and ended with the occasional, dubious acquaintance of Hunter’s. That was not enough to survive on and Tech cared only about such practical matters.

At least, that’s what he told himself for a time, but it wasn’t in Tech’s nature to dismiss facts. Like how once Master Shaak Ti had laid a hand on his arm after training, bestowing a smile and words of praise that Tech later kicked himself for missing, too busy being disgustingly flummoxed by the attention. That warmth, gifted three different ways, stayed with him long after they'd left their simulations behind, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't rationalize it away as planning for the future.

Tech wanted a Jedi of his own. He simply... wanted.

In time those feelings didn't abate, but they were buried under an avalanche of new ones which, from a technical standpoint, he supposed amounted to much the same. After Kaller, Tech had lost his purpose in serving the Republic. Worse, he'd lost a member of his squad, even if he eventually got him back. Crosshair's presence now could no more lessen his past absence than food in one's hand could feed a starving man from yesterday. Tech's home was gone. The familiarity of his brothers' faces, even those twisted with cruelty, was something he craved. Everything from the rooms they'd once slept in to the smell of sterilized halls— all absent. So if Tech sometimes stared out at the stars and felt horrifyingly incomplete, who was he to say what that stemmed from? There were too many possibilities. The data was corrupted beyond repair and trying to divide what he'd lost from what the Kaminoans had denied him was an entirely useless endeavor. An experiment not worth his time.

Still, Tech was made of curiosity. His mind was always on the lookout for patterns and new information, whether he wanted it to be or not. In truth though, he figured that Omega's near death was an experience that would have stood out to anyone, genius not required.

Her screams were quite the conductor for one's focus.

"Shoot it! Shoot it!"

The order was for Crosshair, but Hunter couldn't see that he'd been knocked out by the krykna's last attack, one spindly leg the size of a cruiser slamming into his side. Hunter himself was trapped, hands scrambling to free his leg from the cave's crevice even as he yelled. Tech noted, in the dim way his mind noticed most things during a crisis, that he was now using his knife for leverage, cutting into his calf in the process, uncaring. Meanwhile, Wrecker was overwhelmed by the krykna's cluster, something about his size and boisterous nature attracting them like... well. Like kryknas to a clone. Echo was trying to help, but the planet's magnetic field had been messing with his prosthetics ever since they'd landed. Tech saw them both disappear under a small mountain of the creatures, yelling Omega's name all the while.

And Tech... he was running. Yes. He realized that now, legs pounding across the ground, heedless of the numerous arachnid bodies that crunched beneath his boots. He couldn't say that his attention was solely on Omega, her face now just inches from the krykna's pincers. It never was. Tech couldn't help but catalogue a hundred other observations as she neared death's door, most of them quite distressing. Like the difference in height between him and his brothers. Or his abysmal scores in sprinting back on Kamino. Omega was at least five meters away whereas the krykna, most assuredly, was not.

I'm going to lose another one, Tech thought as his next laborious pant turned into a sob. Probability proves it.

Thank the Maker his calculations were incomplete.

Later, the five of them would describe the sensation as akin to static electricity. Even Crosshair, unconscious, would say that he'd felt something passing along his skin, heedless of armor and all the more disconcerting for being... impossible. An impossible memory. Only Tech and Hunter saw it though, the moment when the krykna rose off the ground and flew, all five tons of it, slamming into the opposite wall where its skull caved in like an over-ripe fruit.

Omega sat with her little hand outstretched, looking just as dumbfounded as her brothers. When he finally reached her, Tech found evidence of the krykna's teeth on either side of her neck. They'd only just punctured the skin.

A moment of certain death, averted through instinct. Destiny? Perhaps some combination of the two.

"It's okay. You're okay. Omega, please breathe for me."

Tech was blessed — sometimes cursed — with an extraordinary memory, the ability to recall not just books' worth of information, but images in perfect clarity too. Superimposed over a sobbing Omega was a cadet from his youth. No one important. No one whose name Tech had bothered to learn, uninterested in remembering it against his will. But the boy's words had already been spoken.

"Kriff, maybe we're wrong, vod! Maybe the defect will get a Jedi. After all, don't they say the Force works in mysterious ways?"

An insult, a taunt, and now perhaps a speck of wisdom that Tech should have heeded. He pulled Omega into his arms, one gloved hand sinking into her curls, the other wrapping tight around her waist. He'd performed this gesture a hundred times before, but this time it felt like something slotted into place.

"There you are," Tech whispered and for now, he'd pretend that this was nothing more than a reassurance.

#TBB #The Bad Batch #TBB Fic #Tech #Omega #Crosshair #TBBfic #Star Trek #SW

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babylooneytoonz · 3 years

Text

Warnings : Reader takes it a bit far this chapter // Bucky is sort of not much of an ass?

COFFEE STAINS - MASTERLIST

Things seemed to have died down between you and Bucky altogether, ever since he had been assigned a classified mission to go to and you hadn't seen him in over two weeks, which was a news that was told to you by Wanda. This was a good thing; a good time for you to clear your head and maybe, stop having to deal with his obnoxious ass loitering all over the Stark Towers, like it was him that owned this place and not Stark.

Today was your final training; what Tony refered to as certification training, and it was your today's performance that was going to decide if you were ready to finally be sent to your own missions or not.

You looked at yourself in the mirror as you fixed your contact lenses into your eyes, sighing softly to yourself as you placed the glasses by the bedside table. You then walked out of your room, scratching the back of your head as you made your way towards the training room, five minutes before you had been asked to assemble there by Steve.

You almost did a double take when you stepped into the training room, although you weren't late, you saw that Sam, Wanda, Vision, Clint and of course, James Buchanan Barnes were all already there, and all the heads turned towards you when you entered. You didn't know this was going to be an entire team thing; a sudden nervousness started bubbling in the pool of your stomach.

Steve, and Tony were standing with their arms crossed over their chests, and Steve nodded in acknowledgement when you fixed yourself next to Bucky, as he was the one in the extreme end. You felt his eyes on you as you walked past him, and a faint fragrance of elon and musk invaded your nostrils, and you took a slow breath, just to breathe a waft of it once again, unconsciously.

"Well, all of us know this drill, except Y/N," Steve turned towards you briefly and then towards the rest of the team, before Tony's grin caught your eye, "It's Junior, Cap."

"Tony, this is serious, please."

Tony nodded, quickly masking his grin away, clearing his throat.

"For you Y/N, the agenda is– " Steve took a deep breath, before speaking again, "you are six, and each one of you will be put into a team, there will be two teams. You will be put into a simulation, there will be simulated villains trying to stop you from trying to reach your goal."

"And your goal will be to diffuse the fake bomb, mind you there is just one bomb, and only one team will get to diffuse it, whichever finds it first. There is no winner but it's all about your performance. And for you Y/N, this counts as your test, and once you clear this, Steve will sign you off to your first individual mission," Tony mumbled.

This was a big thing, this was an opportunity, and you wanted to do nothing else but prove yourself. You weren't just anybody, you could fight side by side with the Avengers and be their equal.

"This challenge is not just about fighting the villains, but it will also test your tactical skills. Being an Avenger means encountering the most severe scenarios, and diffusing bombs is one of the most common ones," Steve chimed in.

"Finally, the teams. Clint, and Buck, the two of you take charge of either of the teams, Clint, you take Y/N, and Sam, while Wanda and Vision go with Buck. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Cap." Everyone chortled, and you nodded your head.

Soon, the simulation was upon you, the team went through a door, behind which, the walls were neon blue. You all had your handguns drawn out, except Clint, who was using his arrow. You could see Barnes, he was a few yards ahead of you, smoke bellowing through the barrel of his gun, as he had already taken a hit. Your competitive side pounced upon you, and you squeezed yourself to the front while Clint was busy aiming his arrow towards one of the simulations, that was making its way towards you. You were fast, and even faster as you jumped down, and slid across the floor, right through under one of the simulation villain's feet, and then you shot it twisting your body by the waist, the simulation vanishing into thin air.

By the next fifteen minutes, you had already eliminated atleast seven simulation villains, having earned a pat on your back from Clint, and a wolf whistle from Sam, something that didn't seem to fare so well with Bucky, for the some reason; but you didn't know that. You didn't realize that Bucky seemed to be a little distracted, and he kept glaring at Sam Wilson, from time to time. However, he wasn't even aware he was doing it.

Bucky had taken down atleast twelve villains by now, but they just kept creeping out, again and again, not even giving him the time to reload his gun, it was like a full fledged zombie invasion, but so far, he was killing it. Finally, he spotted a small red beep, underneath what looked like a ceramic slab, but he realized that you had spotted it too, at the exact same time. His eyes narrowed at you, a low throaty growl erupting animalistically from the back of his throat as he sprung to his legs, now sprinting towards it, in full speed.

You screamed due to the adrenaline pumping through your veins, and darted after him, now trailing just a few steps away from him. You had to stop him, that was your lock, and only you were allowed to be a key to it.

Finally, when you realized that he was closer to the bomb than you were to it, you lunged at his back, instead of the simulation villains, causing him to get disbalanced and fall face first against the cold floor with you falling after him; but your fall being saved when your face hit his sturdy back. It still hurt though, and felt like your nose had cracked.

He suddenly rolled over, his mechanics being much faster than yours and this caused you to come crashing to the floor now, with the back of your head hitting hard against the floor, causing you to groan in pain.

By this time, the red buzzers had sounded, which meant that the simulation was over; but this also meant that you had failed. The bomb was still not diffused.

Barnes was laying next to you on the floor, but you knew it deep inside that he was pissed, and hell, he was pissed, for the next minute, he sat upright, and leant over you, with his bulky frame shadowing you, his face hovering above yours. He almost brought his metallic palm to your throat, ready to grab your neck, but for some reason, he didn't touch you, but only kept glaring at you, with a slow, distilled rage, the kind of a rage that was more dangerous, for this kind of rage often grew into something much more disastrous.

"Do it, why did you stop?" You grunted through pursed lips, hissing at him.

He just looked at your outburst, his eyes cold and emotionless, a flash of his previous self having come out from the little antic that you had played. You knew he was wrestling for control, and he actually was, but you were so hell bent on poking him again and again, just because you had come this close and failed, you didn't seem to care if you brought out the man that he had buried long time back.

"You are a fucking nutcase."

He literally spat in your direction, and stood up, just when the door opened and Steve and Tony stepped in, their eyes on Bucky, and then down at you.

"And you're a ticking timebomb." You hit him back with your words, ignoring the intruders when Steve finally spoke.

"I want the two of you in the meeting room, now." Steve pointed towards Bucky, his face strict, without a trace of a smile on it.

Bucky glared at you once again, and his palms clenched visibly against his side, his shoulders stiff as he started following Steve, and you followed after him, ignoring how the rest of the team was staring at you; some of them having a deep frown over their faces.

You reached the meeting room, Steve was hunched over the table, his palms resting on the surface of it, his eyes narrowed towards Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, who was seated on a chair in front of him, leaning back against the backrest. When you entered, Bucky's eyes met yours, and his nostrils flared in reflex.

"Y/N, take a seat. It's time the two of you sorted whatever this thing is going on, between the two of you. This is clearly starting to affect your performance, and I cannot have it affecting our missions."

"I understand, Steve," you mumbled taking your seat next to Barnes, your cheeks burning from the inside.

"So, what happened?" Steve asked, lowering himself on a seat opposite to you, your eyes fixed on him. You could see Bucky's head turn towards you from the corner of your eye, so you sighed, your fingers toying aimlessly with each other. "Well, I - I saw that Sergeant Barnes was closer to the bomb, and I thought–"

"You thought you will beat him, so you can succeed. Now, the first rule of being an Avenger, can you guess what it is?"

You bit down on your lip, swallowing the lump forming in your throat, and shook your head.

"It's teamwork."

You nodded.

Steve appeared to be contemplating; you could see that his palm was resting against the table and he was tapping it with his fingers , against the surface. He finally freed out a deep breath, and looked at you, "You are being suspended from your first mission, where we were planning to send you to Hungary tomorrow, you have been suspended until for the next two weeks."

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

You should have been angry, that you were suspended from going to your first solo mission, and Bucky was let go, without nothing; but you didn't. Instead, a part of you was feeling guilty, for you hadn't really been in the right this time. Yes, you were eyeing the prize, but that didn't excuse the way you chose to win it. You let your personal battle with Barnes cloud over your senses, which ruined today for you. You were also feeling guilty, for you did notice that Bucky was trying hard to control his rage, so he didn't end up hurting you, but you just kept on instigating him; again and again.

You spent all afternoon thinking about it, and finally, you stepped out of the Stark Towers, because you really needed to unwind. The first thing you did was buy yourself a few dresses, to fill up the emptiness in your closet, and while you were at it, you purchased a soft, plush sports fit tank top, a white one, the one that you had ruined for Barnes on your first day. You sat outside in your favourite table in a cafe and had a sandwich with a giant iced tea, before you went back to your place, giving yourself the pep talk that no matter what happened, you were going to apologize to Bucky today, for what happened during the simulation.

The floor the two of you shared, and Sam, whos apartment was towards your left, the first one in the hallway, was quiet. You checked with Friday on your way up in the elevator, if Sergeant Barnes was in the gym.

"Sergeant Barnes is at his apartment, Miss Y/N," The AI informed you.

Finally, the elevator pinged open, and you stepped out, still clutching the neatly wrapped packet that you were going to give him, as a peace offering and tell him that you didn't wish to fight anymore. Although you were nervous, your cheeks were flushed, and you could feel your heart rate accelerate every time you tried to bring your palm up to knock, you deadpanned when you heard Friday's voice go off inside, and she betrayed you, even before you could muster the courage to do it yourself.

"Sergeant Barnes, Miss Y/N wishes to see you."

You fluttered your eyes shut, and took a deep breath, listening to someone unlock the door on the other end. You were preparing in your mind, were you just going to say 'Hi Bucky', or just look at him at a loss for words, you had no idea. The door was pulled open, and your mouth parted, but words lodged themselves to your throat when you saw him.

He was dressed; his hair slicked back and gelled, his jeans hung loosely from his hips, and he was wearing a printed half t-shirt, his metal arm visible. He was, however, not alone. The woman you had seen with him a few days back, hung to him, and his flesh arm was wrapped around her waist. You could see that she was giggling into his ears and your grip just tightened against the gift that you held in your hand, but just shuffled it back, behind you, so he couldn't see it now.

"Well?" He raised an eyebrow.

He looked at you, as though he was getting impatient, but your mind fused up, and you didn't know what to say.

"I don't have all day, you see, we have a movie date we need to get to, if you don't mind."

The ice in his voice was like needles that went right through you, puncturing your insides. You had never really let his words affect you before; but something in the way he spoke the words today made you flinch internally, and bite back on your tongue to refrain from saying something nasty.

"I just wanted to ask you to keep the voices low, I am in my apartment trying to get a fucking sleep, but you two seem to forget that you are not the only one on this floor."

He just smirked at you, the corner of his lips jutted upwards as though he was amused, but he nodded, inkling the woman closer to him, "Aren't you sure you just aren't being a little whiney because you have no one to share your apartment with?"

"Barnes, I thought the two of you had a date at the theater, why don't the two of you just fuck off?"

"Whatever." Bucky moved past you, and the two of them walked off, leaving you to stand on his door, fuming internally.

Five minutes later, you were literally striding into the recreation room in full swing. Steve and Sam were standing by the oven, and Wanda and Vision were lounging on the couch. Your steps caused the two men by the oven to snap their heads in your direction, startled to see you all worked up, walking towards Wanda.

"Wanda, the man you were talking about, the one you wanted to set me up on a date with, is he available right now? I am in a need of a good date."

(So, what did you guys think? 💚)

Permanent Bucky Barnes Taglist:

@really-dont-forget-it

@thepeakygurl

@all-art-is-quite-useless

@baumarvel

@janajjj

@chipilerendi

@nyotamalfoy

Want to be added to my taglist? Please fill up a form on this link. 💗

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier

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consumeconstantly · 4 years

Text

Small Buff Girl Sightings Ch 4.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ao3 ___________________________________________________________

Marinette is not surprised when she receives a text message from Lila two days after she speaks to Damian. She’s been expecting Lila to contact her.

After all, Damian refuses to listen to common sense and transfer, and since he hasn’t been brought into the fold with the rest of the class, he clearly must be against them. This causes the rest of their classmates agitation. Marinette is afraid that Damian might end up like the rest of the transfer students; pushed away and aggravated to the point of akumatization.

It doesn’t matter that Marinette brushes off Damian’s attempts at conversation. All it matters is that there is one (1) Very Attractive Boy that is not under Lila’s thumb and is associating with Lila’s supposed enemy. Surely, the Italian girl knows that the current situation holds all of the possibilities for a disaster.

Marinette isn’t sure how Lila has her phone number, but she supposes it doesn’t really matter. Since Marinette didn’t run for class president this year, Lila was elected because of everybody’s adoration for her. Being Class president is a good resume boost, so Lila accepted, and appointed Alya as her Vice Deputy (and of course, allowed the faux reporter to do all of the legwork for her.) So, it’s highly likely that Lila just looked up her number in the class registry.

7:45AM | Unknown number: it’s lila. i’ll meet you at the corner cafe near the louvre at 4 today. we need to talk

8:05AM | Marinette: okay

Unknown number: youre not going to ask why

Marinette: we both know why

11:02AM | Unknown number: be on time

On his part, Damian isn’t the kind of person who is heavy handed in conversation, which is good for Marinette. He makes snide comments when annoyed and asks questions about assignments that reference lessons he wasn’t there for, but is quiet otherwise. He doesn’t bother much with pleasantries and also doesn’t bother asking to hang out after school, which Marinette is very glad for. Hawkmoth is sending out akumas more frequently than he has in a while, and she has a lot of work to do with commissions-- mostly received through word of mouth-- and homework. She does want to get into a good college, after all, and it’s not exactly like she can put I am the superhero, Ladybug on her admissions essays. Or maybe she could, as some sort of joke?

Still, his obvious denial of Lila’s advances is all too apparent to the class, and even without Lila’s instigation, gossip spreads like a wildfire. In fact, it spreads despite Lila’s desire for it not to. The class doesn’t talk about it when Lila’s in earshot, but Lila knows what’s going on. Lila sees the pitying looks that are thrown her way, the whispers in her ear about the bully, Marinette, getting her claws into another, poor transfer student.

At first, Lila attempts to divert the class’s attention by pushing her relationship with Adrien. Lila gets even closer to Adrien, who, weirdly, smells like some sort of old cheese, especially when she gets close to his breast pocket.

“Oh, Adrien, I think it’s so sweet that you’re going to be taking me to dinner tonight!” Lila finds that Adrien’s forearms are surprisingly muscular. Not that there’s anything wrong wth that-- she likes her boytoys to be strong, but sort of stupid.

It’s a pity that Adrien isn’t stupid, just a pushover. The two of them have an agreement, just like she and Marinette do; Adrien will play along with Lila during class time so her empire remains as strong as ever, and Lila gives Adrien an out for model related things. She doesn’t know where Adrien continually disappears off to during photoshoots, but Gabriel trusts her for some weird reason she hasn’t figured out yet. Which means that Lila is the perfect, ever constant excuse. Occasionally she goes out with Adrien on a “date” to keep up appearances, but it’s hard to date someone who doesn’t follow her every whim. Lila also doesn’t know anything about gaming, or anime, or anything that Adrien has interest in. In return, Adrien dislikes fashion, manipulation, and lying. Really, they have no common ground.

When the American transfer showed up, Lila had been hoping that he would be dumb. He is wonderful eye candy-- more muscular than Adrien and definitely more filled out, that’s for sure. Lila knows that Gabriel has Adrien on some god-awful model diet, but that boy can metabolize like there’s no tomorrow. But it’s not Lila’s place to intervene. That’s family matters-- that’s show business.

Damian Grayson is not stupid, which is either a blessing or a curse, because that means theoretically this man is the whole package. He’s tall, dark, and has a sharp tongue. Exactly Lila’s type. But nothing that’s actually good ever comes her way, and the moment she meets him, she can tell that he dislikes her. Not for the first time, Lila regrets telling such bald-faced lies her first year. Prior to that year, her mother and she hopped countries nearly every year. Apparently, her mother decided that having Lila in the same school throughout high school would be beneficial. Maybe if Lila hadn’t made such a huge mistake in her first year at Francois Dupont, she would be friends with Marinette, who has more of a spine than the rest of the class combined.

Lila knows a losing battle when she sees one. Damian doesn’t like her, though she’s not sure why. She gets the feeling it’s not just because of her past lies. She’s good at telling what people feel about her, has been trained to since a young age. Since her mother is a diplomat, business dinners and charity galas have been her playground since childhood. Figuring out people’s relationships started as a game, at first. Then Lila learned she could turn her knowledge into a tool. As she bounced around from school to school she got more and more adept with manipulating the relationships that she saw. But she’s seen her mom lose before. She miscalculated, thought that she could change somebody who was too headstrong. It hadn’t been pretty-- and it was high stakes, too. That’s why her mom and dad are now divorced.

She recognizes the same bullheadedness in Damian that Marinette has, and Lila knows that with Damian and the class at odds like they currently are, things will go south. Unlike the other transfer students, Damian looks like he will not be easily cowed and will not transfer just because his classmates say mean things to him. They certainly won’t be able to hurt him physically. Which is why she needs to meet up with Marinette. Do damage control. Make sure that she is safe, and that nobody can hurt her. Nobody in this stupid class can hurt her, really. Except for maybe Marinette, but she is too kind to do so. And now, Damian. Which means Lila needs to get a lock on him, and Marinette is her way to do that.

That’s why Lila is here, now, at this cafe near the Louvre, far, far away from anybody who goes to Francois Dupont. None of her dogs will find her here, and she can work something out with Marinette.

Marinette slides into the seat across from her after ordering something, and Lila begrudgingly admits that the girl is pretty and fashionable. She has a fluid grace to her motions, as well, which is why Lila found it weird that she had been so klutzy when they first met. Puberty, maybe?

“So,” Lila starts. She doesn’t really know how to talk to Marinette. Marinette is not one of her dogs. Marinette is smart, and loved, and good at what she likes; she is, at the very least, Lila’s begrudging equal. “Damian Grayson.”

“Damian Grayson,” Marinette repeats, knowingly. She smiles and jokes, “It almost sounds like we’re meeting up to talk about who we have a crush on.”

There are times when Lila wishes that Marinette took her up on the first option of the truce she presented. She wouldn’t have minded a partner in crime, and Marinette is everything that Lila lacks. That’s why Lila offered it in the first place. She knew that Marinette wouldn’t take it-- she was far too morally inclined too-- but it was worth a try.

“I’ve tried talking to him,” Marinette says, “But he’s not the type to listen.”

“He’s smart.” Smarter than the rest of the class, Lila thinks, so of course he won’t ally himself with her. People who follow who are always disillusioned dreamers who don’t have enough common sense to use Google. “I don’t mind if he’s not on my side. He just can’t be against me.”

Lila doesn’t care much about her classmates at Francois Dupont, but she can’t give them up, either. She still has the rest of this school year and the next, and it’s easier having her classmates fawn over her and drop everything at the flick of her wrist. It makes being class president very easy. If Damian exposes her lies, the end of her lycee years will inevitably end in an unpleasant altercation with Gianna Rossi, her mother. And while her classmates are inarguably dense and too trusting, their attentions aren’t altogether unpleasant. They invite her to go to mundane places and she agrees to, when it’s not too much of an inconvenience.

Marinette nods, sagely, then sips her Cafe au Lait. “There’s nothing to worry about there. He doesn’t like dealing with classroom politics, so as long as you don’t mess with him, he’ll stay away.”

“Good.” But also-- Lila hesitates. She doesn’t think that Marinette will agree with this, but she’s a little bit desperate. As useless and unthinking their classmates are, Lila doesn’t want to lose them. They’re all that Lila has. And they’ll think it weird that Damian isn’t on her side. They might start messing with him, and by extension, Marinette. On Lila’s short list of who she has tried and failed to take down is Marinette. The girl is slow to anger and has seemingly unending patience, but she’s unquestionably talented and charismatic, which means Lila does not want to see her mad. She’s been accepting of the new classroom dynamic in which her classmates ignore and ocassionally insult her because the whole school knows the two of them have bad blood, but some days Lila catches Marinette looking at Alya, Nino, and Adrien with a distant fondness. If they totally turn on Marinette, it won’t end well.

Apparently, Marinette can see the hesitation on her face. Lila is surprised at how good the other girl is at reading people. She definitely should not have the same experiences that Lila does. She has too bright of a disposition to have experienced a life constantly embroiled in politics and poor personal relations. But somehow, Marinette is almost as good at reading people as Lila is.

“If you think the rest of the class is going to do something, I’m pretty sure that Damian will be fine with you shunning him. He doesn’t like liars, but as long as it gets him out of dealing with the rest of the class, he’ll be fine.” Marinette knows how little Damian cares for their classmates. She can ask him for permission after talking to Lila, and then act accordingly.

This is surprisingly easy. Though, most things with Marinette are. Even the first time that Lila confronted her, they only needed to speak a few words before everything was resolved neatly.

“I’ll let you know what I decide to tell them.” Lila figures that it’s easier for her to tell Marinette what she’s planning and not get an unexpected surprise at the last second where the girl opposes her.

“Sounds good.”

Marinette’s phone is on the table, and it buzzes itself to life. Lila sees her lockscreen: a picture of Marinette and her family. Lila thinks of her own lock screen. It is much less personable. A lock screen that is one of the many that are preinstalled.

Marinette picks the phone up, which comes off as uncharacteristically rude. Marinette doesn’t seem like the kind of person who is constantly attached to technology, and she does have better manners than most of her classmates. Lila doesn’t think she’s ever seen Marinette pick up her phone when talking to somebody, and Lila wonders if Mariette picks up the phone because she thinks so little of her.

But Marinette looks pale and worried. She says, “Sorry, but it looks like I have to cut this short. If there’s anything else, just text me, okay?”

Then, Marinette dashes out the door, wide-eyed.

Lila wonders if Marinette’s statement extends to things outside of their classroom situation. Maybe she can get Marinette’s opinion on Gabriel’s Spring line.

“What’s wrong, Renee?” Marinette is worried. Renee never calls without texting, first. Normally, he calls when it’s nighttime, right before he goes to bed. He’s calling in the middle of the day, and something feels wrong.

Renee is taking shuddering breaths on the phone, and Marinette feels her stomach drop. “M-ma-maman,” he wails.

“Did your maman do something?” She’s making her way to Renee’s grandparent’s residence. Marinette visited Renee once in the past week, and he was settling in fine. His grandparents really love him. They said that after their son died, they were rarely able to contact Renee because his mother always had him so busy.

“Maman, she, she hurt Nonna.” Everything that Renee says is punctuated by sniffles and held-back tears.

“Is Nonna bleeding? Can Nonno come to the phone?”

“N-no, I don’t know, Mari, I’m scared, Maman, she’s never been this angry before, Nonno made me lock the bathroom door, I can’t hear them anymore, she’s not going to hurt them, is she? She can’t hurt them, Mari, what am I supposed to do? I’m sorry, I’m sorry for being so bad, I’m sorry. Please--”

“Stay right where you are, okay Renee? Can you use your phone to call the police to Nonno’s house? I’m going to be right there. Nonno and Nonna are going to be okay.”

Renee lets out a shaky, “Yes,” and then Marinette hangs up the phone, darting into an alleyway to turn into Ladybug. She thinks that this might be the fastest that she’s made her way through Paris, and her heartbeat is so fast, Marinette feels like she’s about to vomit.

Ladybug swings to the suburbs where Renee currently resides, detransforms, and sprints into the house. The door is left wide open, which is a bad sign. It signals to Marinette that Celia was violent from the start, and that the elder Monsieur and Madam DeVries did not even have time to close the door.

She is unfortunately right; Madam Devries is on the floor with her arms over her head, body in a fetal position. Celia is barely restrained by Monsieur DeVries, who has deep scratches on his arms.

“You,” Celia snarls when she sees Marinette come through the door. “You bitch! Your stupid intervention made me lose my chance at a promotion. Now I’m on probation! I could be demoted, all because you thought that you could teach my child.”

Celia’s stiletto heels slam onto Monsieur DeVries’ bare foot, and he flinches from the pain. It gives Celia just enough slack for her to escape his arms and storm up to Marinette. “Everything I do is for Renee. I work so he can go to school, so that he has a roof over his head, and so he can go to all of those stupid lessons that his father wanted him to do. And what do you do? What gives you the right to take him away from me?”

She tries to claw Marinette, but misses. All Marinette has to do is sidestep, sweep Celia’s already shaking legs from underfoot, and then pull Celia’s arms sharply and backwards. Marinette’s shin is locked over the back of both of Celia’s knees, and Marinette contorts the woman backwards so Marinette can speak directly into Celia’s ears.

Marinette is glad that there are no cameras rolling here, though she has gathered so much evidence against Celia for charges of child abuse and corporate fraud that there is no way that Celia isn’t going to jail. Sine there’s no video evidence, if Celia wants to bring this instance up, she can just claim self defense.

“You starved Renee when he didn’t want to go to the lessons that you arranged. You beat him if he did anything wrong. You made him think that it was normal for kids to go weeks without seeing or hearing from their parents, prevented him from contacting other family members and from making friends, and humiliated him just because he wanted to hug you in public.” Marinette pulls Celia’s arms back even more sharply, so that her spine was over Marinette’s other knee. Celia let out a gasp and a muffled cry of pain. “You can’t pretend that you did all of that for Renee. You certainly can’t pass off the laundering of Silverstein and Company’s money as something necessary for you to take care of Renee.”

Marinette abruptly pushes Celia onto the floor, letting the leg that wasn’t restraining Celia’s knees onto the woman’s lower back. It’s a lot easier to restrain somebody who’s unconscious, but Marinette wants Celia awake to realize how quickly her life is going to go down the drain. So that Celia knows how much evidence she has stacked against her.

It takes Marinette longer than it usually does for her to restrain her victim with zip ties, but she gets it done well before they even start to hear the police sirens.

“If you think you can use your late husband’s name as an excuse for what you’ve done to Renee, you have another thing coming. I will see you in court this Thursday and not only will you be out of a promotion, you will be out of a job. I’d like to see you try to get a job in France when you have charges of child abuse, violence against a teen and family, fraud, and money laundering on your record.”

“But I love Renee! He is my and Jean’s child. The last connection that I have with Jean. How could I ever hurt him intentionally?”

This only makes Marinette feel more disgusted. How twisted Celia’s vision of love is. Is this how Gabriel feels towards Adrien? Does he also delude himself into believing that his constant isolation of Adrien is a form of love?

“Sometimes, intent doesn’t matter.” Marinette says softly. “The consequences of your actions make you accountable. If you truly love Renee, let him be happy. Let him be safe.” Maybe one day, Celia will learn to be better. To love better. Marinette isn’t sure if Celia should ever be let back into Renee’s life, but that isn’t a decision she can make. That’s something that Renee and Monsieur and Madam DeVries must decide. She hopes they wait on it.

Celia cries, and Marinette can feel the woman’s shudders underneath her fingers. Her face is to the ground now, but she’s lost all color and Marinette can almost believe that she is ashamed and doesn’t want to look at anyone. But as good as Marinette is at partial and half-truths, she’s never been good at lying. Not even to herself.

The police come, and Celia is escorted out in a solemn procession.

Madame and Monsieur DeVries do not thank Marinette, but the way they look at Renee with such concern and affection as they embrace him is all she wants, anyways.

The trial is a quiet affair. There is little to no media coverage because Monsieur and MadameDeVries want it that way.

Since Celia’s physical assault on her son, the case was expedited. Instead of testifying Thursday next week, both Renee’s grandparents and the Silverstein and Company insisted that the date be moved up, and somehow, they managed to get the case to be heard on Friday of the same week.

Renee attaches himself staunchly to Marinette and Damian at the trial. After they visited him at the DeVries house last week, Renee never stopped talking about the best big brother he could hope for. Now, after he has seen his mother launch herself at his Nonna and Nonno, he only has his grandparents and the two of them.

Monsieur and Madam DeVries take this in stride. They are thankful that they helped in getting Renee away from his mother and supportive of Renee forming an attachment to the two of them.

“Damian,” Renee asks when his Maman is on the stand, “Is Maman a bad person?”

Damian is not sure how to answer this. He is no expert on people and his experience with parents is limited and unusual. His mother is an ambitious assassin who raised him to be cold-hearted and brutish. There is little love lost between the two of them. Still, Damian can’t bring himself to think of his mother as a bad person. A villain, maybe, but she had her moments--as brief and few as they were-- of kindness. As far as Damian can tell, Talia really thinks she is doing right by the world. All she wants to do is make the world a better place, though how she goes about doing that is... less than savory.

He shoots a look at Marinette. She shrugs and says, “Just tell him what you’re thinking.”

“People aren’t bad.” The words feel shaky on his tongue. Talia and Bruce both have very different ideology that they’ve espoused to him, but neither feels right to say to Renee. It’s weird to say there are no bad people in the world, when he is a vigilante who fights villains on a daily basis. To say that people like the Joker are not bad, when he has so much blood on his hands. He looks at Marinette, and she’s giving him an encouraging smile. It makes him feel like he’s saying the right thing. “Misguided and twisted, yes. There are also people who are bad for you. Their decisions and actions can be bad, and they can be hurtful.”

Marinette smiles, and it makes Damian feel good. He’s never really expressed his feelings on the dichotomy of people being good or bad, but he thinks about it often enough. His siblings and father all have pretty varying views on the matter, so he can’t claim that he is right, but if Marinette agrees with him, he can’t be all that wrong.

If this view isn’t wrong, perhaps he’s needs to reevaluate his relationships with the people surrounding him, and his feelings towards himself. Dick has tried for a very long time to make Damian believe that he is not a bad person, but Damian has never really believed him. Dick says Damian was just misguided in his youth, following the instructions of someone who should have known better. That so long as Damian tries to be a better person and do better things, that he will be a good person.

Being a good person has never sounded right to Damian. He knows that his hands have taken lives and if he’s being honest, he’s not that unwilling to take more. Father believes killing people is a bad thing and refuses to do it. When Todd went off on his own and killed people, Father said it was unacceptable, and that it didn’t matter that the people he killsed were doing bad things. Thus, if Damian killed in the past, Dick’s logic simply doesn’t make sense. He cannot redeem himself from the lives he has taken; they cannot magically resurrect themselves.

But if people aren’t good or bad and only their actions are, then maybe Damian is a hero, as Dick has continually tried to convince him. He has faced consequences for his past actions, and though he’s not sure that the consequences will ever be enough, the decisions he makes now are better. As Robin, he goes out of his way to help people. As Damian, he ocassionally tries to mediate.

“Still, even if people aren’t good or bad,” Marinette whispers into Renee’s ear and squeezes his hand, “That doesn’t mean you have to be with them. If they’ve hurt you, it’s your right to avoid them, and you shouldn’t feel bad for doing that.”

Celia shivers on the stand and the few times that she brings herself to look at Renee, Marinette can see the beginnings of remorse on her face. Realization and remorse are the first steps to change. There is a future out there that will let Renee and Celia be together again, though Marinette personally doubts that it will ever happen.

After the trial, Renee is released to the custody of Monsieur and Madame DeVries, and Celiaa is sentenced to 14 years in jail, with a possibility of parole in 7 years. Many of the scandals th Silverstein company has under their belt was pushed onto Celia. Marinette can’t say she’s pleased with that, but it’s not as though she’s willing to fight for a shorter jail sentence for this woman.

The five of them go out to celebrate the result of the trial filled with quiet joy.

One week after the trial, three since Damian arrived in Paris, and Marinette and Damian are engaged in a wrestling match in Marinette’s living room.

“Come on Marinette, don’t be such a sore loser.”

Marinette finally manages to flip and pin Damian onto the ground. “I would not have lost if you didn’t knock the controller out of my hands with thirty seconds to go!”

“That was just poor strategy on your part. You could have knocked my controller away too, instead of chasing after yours.” It’s surprisingly difficult for Damian to get himself out from under Marinette, and it’s even harder for him to flip her back and cage her. “Besides, it’s not my fault that you have such sweaty hands. Should keep a better grip, Pigtails.”

Marinette sputters. “Don’t insult my hairstyle choices!”

“I wasn’t insulting them. It’s a--” nickname. But Damian doesn’t give people he’s not close to nicknames. When he doesn’t know someone’s name, or doesn’t care for them, he calls them by distinguishing features. But Damian knows Marinette’s name and thinks that she’s a decent person. The way Pigtails rolled off of Damian’s tongue feels more like an endearment than anything else. He thinks that her pigtails are pretty cute, after all. They fit her childish persona when she is relaxed.

Sabine comes up the steps from the boulangerie and smiles at the two of them.

“You two are getting along well,” she says so nonchalantly that Damian feels a flush growing. He lets his weight off of Marinette, and she bounds up, onto her mother’s arm.

“Maman, tell Damian that my pigtails are great. He’s insulting them!”

Sabine smiles lovingly at her daughter and shakes one of the pigtails with her hand. “Definitely the tails of one very cute pig.”

“Maman, you can’t call me a pig. I’m your daughter.”

“I said a very cute pig.” Sabine looks at Damian and winks, and his flush grows even more. “Now isn’t it about time for the two of you to go back to school?”

Marinette groans. “Don’t remind me. Madame Mendeleev is going to give a physics test today.”

She grabs another pastry and her bag before kissing her Maman and heading out to the streets with Damian.

“Bye Maman, we’ll see you after we go visit Renee!”

“Bye, Sabine.” Damian inclines his head as Marinette’s mother waved them goodbye from behind the bakery counter.

It’s nice being friends with Marinette. The days go by quickly, and there’s rarely a dull moment. Somehow, the two of them kept meeting each other after akuma attacks, and between all of their accidental run-ins and their scheduled visits with Renee, Damian finds that he’s more often in the presence of Marinette Dupain-Cheng than he is alone.

At first, Marinette is prickly, but after Lila spreads the lie that he doesn’t speak French well and feels anxious when in big groups, and oh, did she mention that he wants to leave and not be friends with any of them, the class doesn’t really bother with him much. She’s much more willing to be around him once that occurs.

Surprisingly, what Lila said isn’t even that much of a lie. He wants-- or at least wanted-- to leave Paris because he thought that Hawkmoth wasn’t that big of a deal. He certainly doesn’t want to befriend anyone who is imbecilic enough to believe Lila. His French is a little bit rusty, but it’s definitely passable.

Now that Lila is not constantly trying to hold Damian’s forearm, he relaxes a lot. Marinette is a calming, level-headed person who balances out Damian’s doom and gloom with cheer and optimism. She’s good at catching him up on the classwork, though not the best ad science, and is a responsible person that Damian trusts with most things.

Lately, he’s been thinking of trusting her a little more and fishing for information on Hawkmoth, Chat Noir, and Ladybug. For some reason, Damian thinks that she will be a very good source of information if he approaches it the right way.

He aces the physics test. It’s a good day.

They’re walking back to Tom & Sabine’s Boulangerie when they come across Nicolette, the girl Marinette saved from Fraser.

“Marinette! Damian! I’m so glad I ran into you two. I never got a chance to thank you guys for saving me.” Nicolette looks infinitely happier than when they had first met her. She’s so different than when Damian first met her. He’s never been good at reconciling people in extreme situations of stress with how they are normally, so Damian supposes this is just par for the course.

“Can I get you guys coffee? It’s really such a relief that Fraser’s finally off my back. He was hounding me for a long time.” Nicolette’s voice trails off towards the end. She’s ashamed.

“I’m free. I’d love to have coffee with you. Damian?”

Damian doesn’t have any real reason to refuse. Research on Hawkmoth is important, but he’s hit a dead end as of late, and stressing about the lack of information-- Damian curses magic, for the umpteenth time-- will do nothing. It doesn’t help that he can hear his older brothers in his head, telling him that he needs to get a life.

“How’s your new job going?” Marinette falls into conversation with the girl, and the two of them manage to drag him into the conversation as well. Having a rapport with someone he barely knows is unusual, but surprisingly pleasant. There’s no need to go into depth over things he doesn’t care for, and anything that a party doesn’t seem interested in or doesn’t like is glossed over immediately.

Perhaps his brothers are right, and Damian does need to get a few more friends his age.

“My boss says that if I keep performing the way I am, I’ll get a promotion before the end of the year! Can you believe that?”

“That’s amazing! I’m so happy for you. And your coworkers?”

“They’re pretty amazing. I’m so glad that I decided to work for Dior instead of Silverstein and Company. Silverstein was what really sent Fraser off, and they’re not even in fashion. They’re in real estate or something. Dior always reminds me how valued I am, and that’s something I really needed after dealing with Fraser for so long.” Nicolette looks around the cafe and lowers her voice. “There’s not a lot of information out about it in the media yet, but I’ve heard that Silverstein is going to be in pretty hot water soon; someone high up in their Paris branch really messed up. Apparently she was doing all sorts of illegal things under the table, and let a lot of those who were under her get away with the same thing.”

Marinette and Damian exchange looks. They know exactly who she’s talking about, but they come to the joint decision that they don’t need to talk about it. Because talking about how they know means talking about Renee. And even though Nicolette is friendly, there is no reason to expose another person’s life story. Especially not when they’re as vulnerable as Renee is. Marinette gently redirects the conversation back to fashion.

“Oh, I love Dior! Their ready to wear line was to die for this year.”

“Definitely, a lot of my friends like Gabriel better, but I simply adore the way that Dior emphasizes femininity. I don’t think that women need to emulate men in their fashion; we’re amazing the way we are, and should be appreciated.” Nicolette looks Marinette up and down. “Speaking of, I love your outfit. It doesn’t look like it’s something from a ready-made store.”

“I like to design my own clothes from time to time,” Marinette waves off the compliment. “Both Gabriel and Dior’s original missions are founded on principles that I greatly admire, though I have to admit that I’ve had some personal run-ins with Monsieur Agreste that have reflected poorly on his recent choices, and I am no longer the biggest fan of his work. It’s sad that he’s deviated so much from what he originally wanted to do-- give his wife and women the power to be treated as an equal.”

Marinette isn’t exactly sure how Gabriel treats Adrien in his entirety, but what little she does know is enough for her to despise the man. For the past year, Marinette has wanted to emancipate Adrien, and that desire has only gotten stronger in the past few months. In her gut, Marinette knows her initial suspicions are correct: Gabriel has to be Hawkmoth. More recently, even their moods seem to be interconnected. Gabriel has been hounding Adrien more than usual-- more photoshoots, late nights, less correspondence with his friends, more of a diet, and those are only things that Marinette has observed. And Hawkmoth has been coming after her and Chat Noir with a vengeance. He’s released an akuma every single day for the past month, and it’s taxing on her, though Marinette can’t say that his newest strategy is any weirder than the other ones he’s been trying out during the past half year. At least the akumas aren’t that strong, but it’s worrying because Chat Noir feels more obligated to come out to at least half of the akuma battles, and it’s clear that he’s too tired and too busy to do so.

“What about you, Damian? Do you have a favorite courtiere?” Marinette smiles sheepishly. They’re talking about fashion, and she’s not sure that he enjoys the subject all that much.

“I don’t know much about fashion, but all my brothers can talk about is this new designer that’s been working with Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale. They’re completely obsessed, but I can’t remember the name.” Damian thinks the designer’s name had an M in it, but he’s not sure.

“Oh, MDC! They’re so elusive, but their designs are stunning. I’d love to work with them, if I ever get a chance. It’s a pity that they’re so secretive.” Nicolette whips out her phone. “I have a whole file on all of the designs that they’ve released so far. They have a great eye for color, and their construction is flawless. I even have a few designs that they haven’t claimed, but I’m pretty sure they made it. All of them have a pretty distinctive--”

Nicolette narrows her eyes. “Wait.”

Marinette looks down at her cup, and then back up into Nicolette’s, calm and steady. “I love MDC too. Since I’m an aspiring designer, I reference everything she makes pretty often. I based my jacket off the one she made for Clara, with a little bit of Dior Spring 2017 for flair.”

“No. Way.” Nicolette’s eyes set themselves on the lapel of her blazer. “No, no, no, there’s no way.”

Damian raises an eyebrow, looks at Marinette and then Nicolette. Nicolette’s mouth hangs slightly ajar while Marinette holds her cup of coffee. He feels like he’s missing something here, but he’s not exactly sure what. MDC. Marinette. MDC. Marinette.

He pauses. What is Marinette’s last name again? He thinks he’s heard it at least once before-- must have, because they needed to state their full name for the court records-- but what?

Nicolette squeals and takes Marinette’s hands. Still, she knows when to keep things a secret; since Marinette hasn’t revealed her identity yet, there must be a reason why she wants to keep it a secret. Marinette saved her, so there’s no way that Nicolette is going to betray her trust. Plus, this might give Nicolette a huge break if she plays her cards right.

Apparently, Nicolette deems Damian either to be nobody important, or somebody who’s already in confidence with this secret that Marinette is keeping, so she lowers her voice just enough so that the three at the table can hear. “I cannot believe that I’ve met you. I can’t believe that you saved me! Do you know how kickass that is? Half of the designers who are working for us look like they’re fragile enough to blow away if one more needle stabs them. Oh my god. I can’t believe this. This is one of the best days of my life.”

For her part, Marinette looks confused, with an underlying current of either amusement and possibly anxiety. “They are pretty new to the industry. It’s rare to meet another fan!”

“Don’t play me like that. I got my job for a reason. I was one of the top scorers in business school and might have been hired for my background in technology, but the reason why I had an emphasis on fashion is because I am obsessed with couture. And when I get obsessed, it’s pretty easy for me to see when it’s one of my favorite designer’s styles.”

“Thanks for thinking that I copied them so well!” Marinette smiles, and Damian almost doesn’t catch the hint of tension in her shoulders. “I do have a lot of free time on my hands though. High school student and all.”

Marinette has learned to lie very well. After years of hiding life-altering secrets, she has to be. There’s a lot riding on her ability to keep silent. Paris, for example.

Unfortunately for her, the two people at the table aren’t fooled by her act. Damian pieces it together from context clues and a quick glance in his contact list, where Marinette is listed as “Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Nicolette, on the other hand, is very well versed in MDC’s past designs, and also has the conviction to follow through with her beliefs.

Marinette’s denial of her alter-ego is not outlandish. She’s a teenage girl, and perhaps not ready to face the media storm that would come after outing herself to the public. So Nicolette drops the issue, and Damian doesn’t comment. She hums, pulls out a business card and says, “Well, your construction on your blazer is much better than we see with interns usually. If you’re ever interested in coming to Dior, just shoot me a message. I’d be glad to give you a referral or help in any way. It’s the least I can do.”

“Wow, that’s amazing! I’m not sure, but I’m thinking of trying to intern this summer.” Marinette isn’t sure that she can, what with her duties as Ladybug that will inevitably pull her away from her internship and will not reflect well on her work ethic (she really needs to take down Hawkmoth before she gets into college, or at least before she gets into the working world), but it would be nice to intern for one of the biggest fashion companies. And honestly, after knowing how awfully Gabriel treats his own son, she’s not sure she wants to find out how he treats his interns.

“Please Marinette,” Nicolette says, eyes twinkling. “With your skills, I can land you more than an intern position. But it was nice catching up. We should do this again, sometime.”

“It was nice,” Damian says, and he finds that he means it. More than nice, actually. Damian knows more about Marinette now, and he’s sure that there’s even more for him to discover. She certainly keeps things interesting, that’s for sure.

“Definitely.”

“Eugh. Damian, would you please throw out that shirt of yours?” Marinette wrinkles her nose. “Mustard yellow is not your shade. How is it that the one colored shirt that you have in your wardrobe is also the ugliest thing you own?”

Since they now see each other on an almost daily basis and Marinette’s proclivity for fashion has been outed, she voices her distaste with Damian’s limited fashion sense more often than not. The boy knows how to work a good black t-shirt and jeans, but not much else. She asked him if he was trying to go for the emo look, yesterday, and when he said no, she demanded that he wear something with color the following day, So, Damian flipped through the clothes that he brought with him to France, and found that the only colored clothing he brought was a t-shirt he doesn’t even remember packing.

“I’m wearing something colorful,” he says. “You told me to.”

“If I knew that this was the only thing that you owned in color, I would have gladly let you remain in your emo phase.” Marinette sighs. “Now that I know this is your only option and that you are not an emo, I have no choice.”

In the time that has passed since the two of them met with Nicolette, Marinette has not acknowledged the elephant in the room. She has said nothing of her relation to MDC, but it’s not hard to figure it out. Damian spent the night after they met up with Nicolette looking at a collection of all the things that MDC has designed and found a very distinctive logo sewn into each. This logo is also found on all of the things that are up in Marinette’s room, but he hasn’t mentioned it. Thus, the two of them pretend that she is just an aspiring designer, rather than one who already has high-end clientele.

With a dramatic swoon and an intake of breath, Marinette says, “I suppose I must help you with your wardrobe. The reformation of one Damian Grayson has now been entrusted to me, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

The mention of Damian’s fake last name makes him bristle more than the jab at his clothing colors.

“My wardrobe is fine. I don’t see anybody else complaining.”

“Damian. You interact with maybe five people on a regular basis in Paris. Renee doesn’t think you can do a single bad thing in the world, and his Nonna and Nonno aren’t going to say anything about your fashion choices. The barista at the cafe is head over heels for you and clearly doesn’t think about anything but your pretty eyes and the muscles under your t-shirt. Maman and Papa just think that you’re a teenager who doesn’t have more than one outfit, and that you’re possibly emo.” Marinette pauses. “You do have more than one outfit, right?”

Damian scoffs. He may not know fashion, but he can certainly afford more than one outfit. Still, Marinette doesn’t know much about him in terms of family or finance. They’ve kept everything very surface level, though he’s sure that she has her own assumptions. He has his own about her, though he does have more information to work with. He can’t shake the feeling that he’s missing something big, though. The way they keep meeting up after akumas and the way she’s able to take people down so easily when Damian knows that she doesn’t actually go to the martial arts class down the street from Francois Dupont. But every time he tries to think about it for too long, something else draws his attention. His train of thought always slips away.

“Don’t you scoff at me young man. I am now obligated to help you, you poor, misguided soul. I am going to dress you to impress.” Her grin broadens. “I bet that I can get that barista to ask you on a date. What would you prefer; for her to leave her number on a cup, for her to silently drool over you, or for her to try to work up the nerve to ask you out directly?”

“I don’t want her to ask me out at all.” He leans back onto the armrest of the sofa and assesses her.

“Come on, Damian. You need to make more friends. Go out. Live a little!”

“This, coming from you,” Damian says amusedly. Marinette and his brothers would get along splendidly, if they ever met. Not that they will.

Marinette huffs. “I certainly have more friends than you, and I definitely interact with way more people than you do.”

“That’s what you get for working in customer service. And also for having some sort of moral obligation to save the world.”

At this, Marinette almost stutters. Her mind instantly goes to Ladybug. But Damian can’t know. All of the times that she’s seen him on scene after an akuma attack, they were all coincidences. They have to be.

“I don’t know why you feel the need to save everyone and their uncle from stalkers and continue to intervene in random street fights, but where I’m from, that certainly doesn’t happen very often.”

Oh. Oh, he is talking about her civilian form. He doesn’t know. It’s fine.

“Funny, because you always seem to step in to help whenever you see me.” Marinette frowns. “Say, where are you from, anyways? I know you’re from America, which explains why you have such horrible fashion sense, but where?” Marinette cracks a smile, thinking of Damian in American stereotypes.

“So what was it? A surfer? A cowboy? Oh my god, a skater boy,” she cackles. She can totally see it. The slightly rebellious slightly punk combo. There’s no way that Damian wasn’t a skater boy back in the states.

Damian looks insulted. “I was not a skater boy. If you must know, I’m from Gotham.”

Is that too much information? He regrets it almost as soon as the words are out of his mouth, but he has gotten too relaxed in her presence. That isn’t good. He can’t let things slip like that. He should have redirected her, let him think that he was from New York, or that he was a skater boy. If Marinette decides to look up Damian and Gotham, there are a good number of photos of him alongside his real last name. Then she’ll wonder why he lied to begin with. That will be bad. That can’t happen.

She considers him. “You’ve really got it rough, don’t you? Moving from one crime infested city to the next. Gotham’s worse, though. At least here, we’ve only got two overpowered villains and a bunch of victims. Over there… the likes of the Joker and Two-Face? They hurt people, and there’s no Miraculous Cure from Ladybug to fix the damage they’ve done. Honestly, I’m surprised that you don’t avoid danger at every turn.”

Gothamites do tend to avoid danger much more than their Parisian counterparts. Gothamites walk with purpose and are rarely out on the streets longer than they absolutely have to be; they’re a smart bunch, who don’t want to get involved if they don’t have to. Most people keep their cards close to their chest, and don’t let people know that they care.

Damian doesn’t think it’s bad, though he does have to admit that Paris is less dangerous. Frustrating, because he can’t do much when a situation arises, but it’s almost nice how normal he feels in Paris. That’s something he hasn’t gotten to experience much of, and while the first few days were weird, he’s settled into a sort of routine. He gets along with Marinette a hell of a lot better than any of his classmates back in Gotham, except for maybe Kent, but he and Kent rarely see each other during school hours.

Marinette breezes back to talking about fashion, almost as if she knows that she’s getting into territory that neither of them are quite ready to go into, and Damian gladly accepts it.

She claps her hands and says, “We’re going shopping. Let’s get you a wardrobe that makes your loved ones proud.”

It doesn’t escape Damian’s notice that she says loved ones instead of parents, and wonders if she knows more than he thinks she does. He wonders if she already knows that he’s Damian Wayne. Somehow, he doubts that she knows or cares that he is the son of an American billionaire with mommy issues. But it does feel good to have someone that doesn’t assume things about the state of his family. She’s been incredibly noninvasive and patient, backing off as soon as she thinks there’s a possible limit if he ever says more than he means to. Damian wonders if this courtesy is because she doesn’t want her own secrets to get out. It doesn’t matter, whatever the reason.

He’s glad for it.

They’re in her bedroom.

Damian lies on her chaise, tossing a stress ball that he finds on her desk. Marinette sits in her rolling chair, working on a commission.

“Ever thought of opening up a website?” Marinette’s room is nice. It has a feminine charm to it, but nothing overwhelming. Very different from Barbara’s chaotically organized room that has cold cases and theories lying around on every open surface and Cassandra’s weapon filled one.

Marinette hums. “I’ve thought about it. I don’t know if I want to. I don’t really have the technical expertise to make it happen.”

“You’ve got Nicolette. I wouldn’t be opposed to helping you with the technological aspect, either.”

At her desk, Marinette’s hands still. “The commissions I get just from word of mouth are pretty amazing. They’re also pretty time consuming.”

Damian can’t tell if he’s pushing too hard. If she’s uncomfortable with what he’s saying. Not for the first time since he’s been around Marinette, Damian wishes that he could read people better.

“But you want to be a fashion designer. You can only do so much with word of mouth.”

“I’ve got plenty of time,” Marinette counters. “I’ve got years before I can even think about making it big.”

This… annoys him for some reason. Marinette doesn’t have to wait for years before making a splash in the fashion industry. She already is. And she can make an even bigger one if she just makes a way for people to contact her reliably.

He sits up. “You are perfectly capable of achieving your dreams now.Why are you putting what you’re passionate about on hold? It makes little sense to limit yourself when there are celebrities around the world vying for a piece of yours. Even my brothers like your designs, and it’s difficult to catch their attention.”

Briefly, Damian wonders if his words would mean more to her if she knew he is a Wayne. That his brothers are Waynes-- the impossible to please, highly irritable Waynes. He shakes away the thought. Thanks to her everyday hero attitude, she’s gotten to meet a surprising amount of famous people or people on their way to fame, and she treats them no differently when she finds out.

What goes on inside the brain of Marinette is far beyond him. Every time he thinks he has her pegged, she does something that makes his assumptions wrong. It’s frustrating how little he knows about her when he is supposed to be one of the world’s greatest detectives. The one thing that doesn’t change, the only common thread that he can follow is that Marinette cares for people far better than most care for themselves.

It’s only been one month, but Marinette is passionate about everything she does, from helping out her parents at the bakery to all of the random acts of kindness she does around town. The good will she shows people on the streets, whether they’re down on their luck that day or are going through a rough patch is unconventional and awe-inspiring. Anyone she meets who’s in a really bad situation is immediately swept up into endless love and affection and she always continues to meet up with them when they need it. If she comes across a situation where she can help,Marinette always follows through. She drops everything for complete strangers that she meets.

So why can’t she take a stab at her own dreams?

“I don’t have time,” Marinette manages. Damian doesn’t think that he’s seen her breathe since they’ve started this conversation.

“Marinette. Look at me.”

She turns to him, eyes downcast and mind clearly elsewhere.

“Marinette.”

She looks at him. Damian is taken aback at the kind of blue her eyes are. Layers of different shades of blue with flecks that almost look silver surrounding her pupil. Even her eyes have freckles.

“You need to make the time.” And then, she looks so helpless, her eyes full of regret and confusion and anxiousness.

Damian wants to do something. With his hands, or feet, or something. He wants to move, he wants to hold her. He settles for running a hand through his hair, a highly unusual action. He likes his hair neat and doesn’t like tics. They make him feel weak. But if running his hand through his hair can stop him from reaching out to Marinette-- for what, Damian thinks, a hug?--then he’ll do it.

“I’m busy, Damian,” she says plaintively, like she’s begging him to believe her.

Why, though? Damian doesn’t understand. Why can’t she just make a website? God knows his brothers would be all over it. The only reason Tim hasn’t figured out her identity is because he respects the fact that MDC clearly does not want to go public. He’s been trying to hunt down an alternate way to get an MDC commission for months now and has only just stopped short of reaching out to Jagged himself. Damian doesn’t understand why he feels so frustrated at her lack of effort, either. He’s seen plenty of people around him in Gotham give up on their dreams in favor of more practical ways of life. People he knew that were talented and could make it, and he never, ever pushed them. Because it was their life. Their decisions. So why?

Why does it hurt so much when Marinette doesn’t follow her dreams?

“I see. Then if you’re so busy, maybe I should stop taking up your time.” The words taste like blood in his mouth. What is he doing? Being with Marinette makes him feel good. Like he’s worthy of being Bruce Wayne’s blood son and that he’s a good brother. Why should he give that up just because Marinette doesn’t want to grow up?

He drops through the trap door and closes it behind him. He goes back to the apartment his father bought him for his stay in Paris. It is empty, cold, and impersonal. For the first time since he’s met Marinette, Damian desperately wishes that the Justice League would give him permission to be Robin.

2:02 AM | Marinette: Damian?

Marinette: hey im sorry for

Marinette: honestly i don’t even know i

2:06 AM | Marinette: will you help me make a website?

2:10 AM | Damian: ok

Damian: i’ll come over tomorrow after school?

2:12 AM | Marinette: yeah

Marinette: that sounds good

3:30 AM | Marinette: im sorry i don’t really know what for but i’m sorry

Marinette: i felt really horrible

Marinette: im sorry

3:37 AM | Damian: you need to learn how to take care of yourself before you take care of others

Damian: please.

#miraculous ladybug #dcu #mlb x dc #maribat #daminette #damian wayne is robin #sbgs #original content #adrien agreste #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

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aquata-the-champ · 3 years

Text

Final Warning | The Board

Aquata and Greg’s feud comes with a few consequences...

Date: Sometime in mid July

TW: none

@notmuchofatail @simba-bonfamille-lyons @alzcomicbarn @thesorceress-hera @rezares @trip-downtheriverstyx

AQUATA

As the Board began to settle in their seats, Aquata glanced at the agenda that had been sent out. It mostly looked like the usual business, except for the first item. “What’s this about ‘Board Behavior Guidelines Reminders?’” she asked, looking around. Aquata had a sinking feeling she might actually know what it was about, but she wasn’t admitting that just yet. “Who put that on the agenda?”

GREG

Gregory - slumped in his seat and looking miserable as ever - hadn't even glanced over the agenda until Aquata spoke, his gaze peeking down at it before a small huff of a laugh slipped from his lips. Of course. For a moment, he found himself looking at Simba because... well - if he had one guess on who would have put that there, it was definitely him before he shot a look towards Aquata. "...Give you one guess." He mumbled easily enough.

SIMBA

Simba's eyes had cut to Greg at the laugh. He was more than done with Greg's sour attitude. Even if he didn't want to run again--which would be fine--he was on the board until December, and he needed to act like it.

Maybe he shouldn't've put it first on the list, but it was the most hot button issue and he had a feeling it wasn't going to wait until the end.

"Considering I'm leading this meeting, it was me," Simba volunteered the information easily. "I--we have decided that reviewing appropriate behaviour would be prudent."

He glanced at his fellow board members to back him up

HADES

This was a long time coming that nevertheless should not be necessary. Hades had rolled his eyes at the whole idea-- but couldn't deny that, well, they didn't have any better option. So: dramatic intervention, five-against-two it was. It could end badly (with Aquata storming out and Gregory in tears) but maybe, just maybe, something productive would come out of it.

Hades was skeptical. But he wouldn't undermine Simba.

"Especially in light of your recent actions on Twitter--but that is just the latest example of a long list of behavioral issues on both your parts," he said with a nod. His eyes settled on Gregory for a second longer-- after all, he knew the boy better-- and his eyebrow twitched up in judgment.

Frankly, Al was feeling kinda vindicated about this. As much crap as people gave him on Twitter, at least he knew how to use it responsibly -- aka he didn't get into public fights with his co-workers.

But he was gonna be nice about it, since it really did benefit him if the hippy dippy side of the Board (read, most of it at this point) had a schism, so...

"I for one think this is a very good idea," said Al. "We can all use a refresher! Keeping our socials clean is a good idea. Who knows what smear articles people might dig up!"

Yes, that was shade at Reza.

REZA

Reza's brow quirked up and he shot Al a sidelong glare. He almost wanted to defens Aquata and Greg's Twitter use out of spite. Excuuuuuse the fuck out of him for actively trying to topple a hostile regime even mundus hated, and selling a potion to help with nightmares to a distraught mother. Hmmph. Not Reza's fault that legally it was 'magic on a child.'

He didn't say anything. Didn't feel the need to yet.

HERA

Hera, on the other hand, had heard about all of this from Mei. She wasn’t on Twitter, nor did she have any desire to be, but it was more than that— it wasn’t as if Aquata and Greg were enemies online and best friends whenever they were in a room together. If it hadve been just an internet feud, Hera might have let it go. But it was affecting her directly, which meant…

“It’s for all our benefits,” Hera stressed (she wasn’t about to lecture Greg and Aquata on playing nice and let someone else get away with it). “But that isn’t to say you two shouldn’t take extra notice of it.”

AQUATA

Aquata crossed her arms. She knew she had fucked up. And she knew that she needed to be a little more careful about how she looked to the public. That didn’t mean she liked this “intervention” one bit.

“I still maintain that Gregory keeps intentionally provoking me,” Aquata said haughtily. “Anyway, message received. I’ll be more professional. Considering I actually give a d— crap about this. Unlike some people.” Aquata glanced at Greg and then back at her own agenda.

SIMBA

Thank Allah they were all on the same side of this. It would have been a pain if he was heading the charge with no one to back him up, but four other people? There was no arguing with that. And like Hera, and unlike some of the others, Simba wanted to be blunt in calling Aquata and Greg out specifically. It did no one any good to speak in vague terms.

“Aquata,” Simba said sharply at her accusation. Or complaint. Whatever it was, it had no place in this meeting.

“Being more professional is not blaming someone else for your behaviour. You and Greg are getting the same treatment. We are aware that both—“ his eyes flicked to Greg and back, “—of you are equally involved in this feud. But your denial of your own responsibility in it makes me question how much you believe that this is really harming the board and something needs to be done about it. And that is my biggest concern at the moment.”

GREG

Gregory didn't meet Hades' gaze - even if he felt it on him for a brief moment of time. If there was anyone here who's opinion he genuinely cared about, it was his. So he didn't like that he'd 'disappointed' him or whatever but... — for the record, he'd been completely fine until Aquata got here.

And see, Greg could have opened his mouth to argue that right there Aquata was instigating him with both of those comments despite the fact she was trying to say he was the one starting it all! What was that then, Aquata?? But again - Gregory did not, either by his own self control or by Simba's quick snap of retaliation. Now, he also didn't deny that he was highly aware it made the board look bad. But... In Greg's opinion so did a lot of things. Probably worse than a bunch of little Twitter fights. Anything that came out of his mouth at the moment surely wouldn't go over well though - so aside a quick icy glance over to Aquata , Gregory simply remained silent. Barely.

HADES

This was going about how Hades predicted it might go:

Aquata, kicking up a fight. Gregory, saying practically nothing. Shrinking in his seat. Hades's pinched his lips together, not sure which one was more disappointing. Not that it mattered-- it was hardly a game.

That was sort of the whole damn reason they were here.

"Are either of you aware that you can be removed for misconduct?" Hades added swiftly. Might as well make them realize just how fucking serious this could be.

AQUATA

"Removed?" Aquata blurted out, before she could stop herself. That seemed extreme. Sure, misconduct wasn't completely inaccurate, but wasn't that sort of thing usually reserved for, like, criminals and raging anti-Magicks? "I mean-- sorry, I know that there are certain rules and procedures, but... I mean, when is the last time someone was removed from Board? Like, I know this is serious, but..."

GREG

This wasn't actually a surprise to Gregory. He'd known very well about the rules and stipulations of the Board. That at any time, people could be 'petitioned' off the Board for.. well, pretty much any reason if there was majority rule about it. Why wouldn't he believe that Aquata's and his own actions wouldn't warrant something like this.

The only difference was that... getting kicked off the board wouldn't even be that much of an issue for Gregory. But clearly Aquata was more than offended by that notion.

"...if we're disrupting the rest of the Board or Board business in any way, or if we're not getting along with each other...you can petition to have people removed." Gregory mumbled quietly towards Aquata without even glancing her way, instead moving to pick up his pen to spin it around in his fingers. "It may not have happened...in forever - but doesn't mean it can't.. dunno why s'a surprise"

HERA

Hera resisted the urge to rub her temples throughout this whole little back and forth. Evidently, Aquata didn't understand how serious this was, and she was beginning to get the feeling that Gregory didn't much care either way, from how quiet he was being. There was a happy medium to be found between their respective reactions, and it would've made things a lot easier if they could've found it, she thought.

"Obviously, there are proper procedures in place; we can't just tell you both to pack up your desks and be out by the end of the day. But it is a possibility, and it's something the two of you," She shot a look at both of them, because whilst she might've liked Aquata a little more, they were both equally at fault, "Should be equally concerned about going forward. I don't think it's something any of us want to do," Now she glanced around at the others, before shrugging her shoulders. "But we can't keep turning a blind eye."

AQUATA

The sharp look from Hera was really all Aquata needed to see. Yes, she had known Simba the longest, and probably agreed with Reza the most on policy, but Aquata trusted Hera's judgment. Being a love witch made her seem wiser, and after that first brunch conversation, Aquata had wanted to impress her. So for once, Aquata bit back her indignation.

So she reined herself in from glaring at Greg (she hadn't asked for an explanation from him) and instead directed a serious nod of understanding at Hera. "Alright, then," she said primly. "I'll keep that in mind for the future. And I apologize for any inconvenience this might have caused."

Aquata glanced down at the agenda again. "If that's all settled, should we move onto the next order of business?"

#final warning #board things #simba #greg #hera #al #reza #hades

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at-the-exd-of-everythixg · 3 years

Note

][Rhys and Adonai for the ship meme][

@blind-mutant

Ship meme

General:

How long will they last? - For a WHILE,,,if Iris doesn't intervene, that is.

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - Probably took a month or two since they're both bratty idiots and then there's the fact that they both have big issues along with Rhys settling with the rest of the Spots System and Doe's job.

How was their first kiss? - Awkward?? Doe KNEW what they were doing, but it was still awkward after when Doe just went "thanks" for a lack of knowledge after.

Wedding:

Who proposed? - Rhys did since Doe doesn't care much about human traditions.

Who is the best man/men? - Morde if they're in contact again.

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - Ava for the sane reasoning!

Who did the most planning? - Doe and Rhys did it together since Doe IS well organised but,,,memory issues. Venus and Mirror helped.

Who stressed the most? - Rhys was since it meant more to him and he wanted it to be a good wedding for Doe too.

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - Iris, cause who wants her there, right?

Sex:

Who is on top? - Usually Doe since it's what they're good at and what Rhys likes.

Who is the one to instigate things? - They both do but Doe mostly since they can sense when Rhys is in the mood and nyooms right in one that.

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - Rhys lasts longer since he's less sensitive.

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - Yeah, Doe likes pushing and giving Rhys something good to remember and Rhys likes to return the favour.

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it. - Doe is rough to Rhys, but there's lots of moments where they need/want something softer from him.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory. - Boys are more private! And Doe is sensitive after sex so it's mostly gentle time.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - None since Doe can't hold a child for long periods of time, or keeping a womb long enough.

How many children will they adopt? - Probably none either, but I imagine they get a pet in the future, some sort of reptile maybe? Doe fucking loves reptiles.

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - Rhys since he's around more and less bothered by the smell.

Who is the stricter parent? - Doe is as their punishments are "okay we'll put you in the room for six hours and no food for three days" before Rhys just "babe, no"

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - Rhys does as the Normal Parent.

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - Doe does since they keep it on a Schedule and mealtimes are good points to remember days by.

Who is the more loved parent? - Hm,,,,both? Rhys is more relatable but also Doe can turn into anything so clearly a child is torn between loving ghost and the cat sized dragon.

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - Rhys is.

Who cried the most at graduation? - Rhys did, the big sap.

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? -Doe is but,,,more likely to just use their powers and then give tips on not getting caught for next time.

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - Mirror or Venus does surprisingly, since they place a lot of care towards Rhys and Mirror is the alter that carries most of the basic skills.

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - Doe since he can't handle too many flavours.

Who does the grocery shopping? - Doe does since they're good at collecting stuff and Rhys tells him what to get.

How often do they bake desserts? - Never but they get stuff at cafes almost weekly.

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - Rhys is a salad eater while Doe needs more meats and tends to eat veyr,,,odd salads.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - Rhys is since he remembers them and then Doe does something the next day, Rhys's biggest romantic trait is being a human calendar.

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Doe is and they love being able to see more of the world with Rhys by his side!

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - Rhys is since he has less experience and no alters to take over for him

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - Rhys does

Who is really against chores? - Rhys is more since Doe's just used to "Things I am Required To Do"

Who cleans up after the pets? - Most likely would be Doe.

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - They both are, the little trash men.

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - Doe more since I imagine they worry more about people they know seeing them in their comfort zone.

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Rhys probably, after Doe keeps poor track of his paychecks sjjsjs.

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - Rhys does since Doe tries to conserves water without thinking.

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - Doe would since they get up early enough for it and then Rhys does it later on.

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - Rhys likes to do it for certain big holidays but doesn't go THAT hard since the physical-ness of it matters less to Doe and Rhys cares more about the celebration itself.

What are their goals for the relationship? - Probably to be happy and safe? Rhys wants Doe away from Iris and the shitty life, but Doe has yet to really know what they might want.

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - Rhys for his sleeping schedule!

Who plays the most pranks? - Doe. I mean, their entire first ever meeting was a whole ass prank on Rhys.

#ask #blind-mutant #sweet face sour taste (adonai)#ship meme #headcanon

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theholycovenantrpg · 3 years

Photo

CONGRATULATIONS, KIERSTEN! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF EPHEMERA.

Admin Rosey: There is something incredibly arresting about Ephemera that I thought would be difficult for someone to capture. There’s something powerful and pivotal that surrounds her - it’s why so many had fallen to their feet in order to worship her. Kiersten, you captured that perfectly. Absolutely perfectly. There line that stuck with me, throughout the application, was this: Ephemera is, quite simply, a terrible beauty. That is what I always saw Ephemera as - terrible and beautiful. The kind that defines the divinity of angels. I am so incredibly excited to welcome Ephemera to the dash, and you to the group! Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Kiersten

Age | 22

Preferred Pronouns | she/her/hers

Activity Level | I’m entering my final year of university with the lightest credit load I’ve had since sophomore year, but I’m also in the process of applying to post-grad programs ( :/ ) and co-editing an anthology for one of the departments here on campus. With that being said, I hope to get a reply out every other day, or once every two days. However, I’m chaotic and oftentimes mean to hold and/or queue replies, but end up flooding the dash. If I could give you a number, it’d be 6/10, realistically, but I’m pretty much always around on Discord to plot and/or chat!

Timezone | EST

Triggers | REMOVED.

How did you find the group? | #thctalk :*

Current/Past RP Accounts | LINK, LINK, LINK

IN CHARACTER

Character | Ephemera - The Virtue of Prudence (with a FC change to Levy Tran, if you please? uwu)

What drew you to this character? | Ephemera is, quite simply, a terrible beauty. I’ve always been enthralled by angels and their place in different aspects of existence--as messengers, saviors, harbingers of punishment, and more--but I never quite thought of there being an angel like Ephemera and I love her all the more for it. She is a true free spirit, she is the best and worst of God; she is the first mortal to be granted wings and instead of crumbling under the weight of the honor, she rose to the occasion and exceeded expectations. She’s a glorious being deserving of adulation… How could I not be drawn to her?

What future plots do you have in mind for the character? |

i. Just as it was God’s folly to give His beguiling creation wings, it was His folly to dictate that she be named Ephemera. There is power in a name, and Ephemera’s literally translates to “something that is enjoyed for only a short amount of time.” How, then, is it her fault that longstanding peace knows no home in her celestial frame? Because of this, I can easily see the Virtue as a near vulture of sorts, just waiting to capitalize upon the misfortune of those beneath her. I don’t think it would be out of character for the conqueror of an angel to pick at the fraying tendrils of peace throughout the lands while Michael and his advisors are none the wiser, instigating discord whenever she deemed it politically smart—for herself, that is.

ii. It is not often that a deity such as herself sees what could be considered an equal in someone else, but such is the fate of Ephemera and DMITRI. He is the Horseman of Conquest and she is conquest’s keeper—she, who’s known nothing but adulation for her victories as both a mortal and an angel; she, who bested her own Creator at the end… And wouldn’t be opposed to besting the Horsemen, either. I would love to explore the dynamic between these two on a micro-level (with Ephemera trying to strategically mold Dmitri into the harbinger of Death that she believes they are to be, for example), but also the dynamic between them on a macro-level that is inclusive as the HORSEMEN as a unit, as well. One of the oldest tactics of war is to divide and conquer, and the idea crosses the strategist’s mind every time she sees the Pale Horseman. What would it take to force one entity into four, all just ripe for her taking? What would Ephemera give to have such power at her fingertips? Further still, what would she do with that sort of power?

iii. She could have sworn she was careful enough--she disposed of plucked feathers by fire, she made sure to appear wounded when necessary, and more--and still, she was brought to stand trial for her sins against her Creator. Ephemera certainly did not out herself to God, so who did? With this plot, I would love for Ephemera to search for whoever told her Creator (a CHERUBIM, perhaps?) about her stints as a god in her own right. She is haunted by the mistake even though things have turned out well for her because she doesn’t know what she did wrong--and how could she refrain from repeating her mistake if she knows nothing about it?

iv. Ephemera is all-too aware of BASTIEN’s obsession with her--her battle stories, her military presence, her sharp mind--and is often annoyed by his incessant behavior, as she finds it difficult to believe that the mortal hasn’t yet realized her disinterest in him stems from the fact that she’s deemed him unworthy of her undivided attention. The angel knows that the Avalos man greedily laps at whatever scraps she deigns to toss his way, and, sometimes, the information she tosses his way is rotten; sometimes, she gives half-truths and embellished accounts of her encyclopedic war accounts, or gives withering comments about his militaristic plans even if she agrees with them for two reasons. The first is that she hopes it negatively impacts the whelp of a mortal enough to leave her alone, and the second is that she hopes it also negatively impacts the mortals’ military forces--especially as times become more and more strenuous between demons, angels, and mortals.

v. Eternity is a long time to exist without amusement and she is so grateful for CADE BEKKER and his utter disdain for everything, for he is her favorite plaything. She knows he sees her as a beast waiting to be befelled, but does he not know that the Virtue evaded and had a hand in the death of God and has no qualms about doing the same to him? She is content to watch him seethe, but she wants more. I love the idea of Ephemera taunting Cade so much that it eventually does end in a fight--but one that he started, one that she can justify to herself and the others. A Virtue versus a Gifted… What a bellicose event that would be!

vi. The GIFTED are the mortals that catch Ephemera’s attention with begrudging ease (even more so than the REINCARNATED), and of the Gifted, she takes most caution around REVNA VOLK. The Virtue’s mind is her prized possession, and Revna’s very existence serves as a threat to it; as such, Ephemera is keen on keeping an eye on the mortal to ensure that she’s not blindsided by anything she does; when she looks at Revna, she feels feelings of bitterness--not because she thinks she’ll ever fall victim to the Daughter of Lies’ tricks, but because God’s divinity makes a mockery out of her as it settles in Revna’s bones. (Even in death, it seems that God intends to taunt her and keep her chained to Him in some way). This one is really open-ended and it can go a couple of ways: with the angel trying to take Revna under her wing in order to keep herself safe (similar to the way in which God brought her closer to Him despite her transgressions against Him), or she could work to make Revna’s life difficult in the Holy Land by advocating for things that would negatively impact her or keep her from gaining any more traction in the political realm.

vii. They say that like calls to like and that both angels and demons are but two halves of the same coin—and, perhaps, in the rawest of terms, they are correct. Like the demon that she is, SALOME pulls a viciousness from Ephemera that reminds the angel of the Old Testament God—of a God that was divinely terrible and possessed a haughtiness that so often informed the deliverance of punishments to those who couldn’t help but fall short of the expectations placed on their incapable shoulders. God found it easy to lose Himself in His throes of battle and glory and passion, and there’s a part of Ephemera that clings to His likeness despite her repeated successes at besting Him; she, too, finds herself susceptible to His same weakness.

Most mistakes made by the Virtue of Prudence are never capitalized on, as they’re so few and far between and tend not to be egregious enough to exploit; however, time is as merciless as she, and it exposes what few chinks do exist in Ephemera’s armor while also giving Salome time to start to understand. I’m really excited to play out the relationship between these two beings, especially as Ephemera simultaneously believes she’s better than Salome, but knows Salome can capitalize on her mistakes--and oh, how she detests the way the demon smiles when she knows the angel has made an error!

viii. Ephemera feels as though she chose MICHAEL as much as he chose her, which is why she feels comfortable enough to lord her part in Caelum’s creation over his head, should he begin to forget that it was her military brainchild that led to God being tossed from Heaven and her battalions that stifled the even the strongest of Heretic strikes. For now, she is content to remain by his side because he affords her freedoms that God was too cowardly to, but ephemera are not meant to be enjoyed for eternity. What would it take to turn the mind against the body, the Virtue against the one who bequeathed her such an honor? How would the King of Caelum react to being extorted, in a sense, by his own military advisor?

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yea! It be like that sometimes but so long as it makes sense, serves the plot, and befits the glorious conqueror that is Ephemera I am down to clown uwu

IN DEPTH

Driving Character Motivation |

(Ephemera has always been divine, but she’s not always been an angel; as such, her driving motivation has changed with her!)

As a MORTAL, Ephemera was driven by SUCCESS. Her life was hard-won and something she snatched without so much of a second thought; she wanted to be brilliant, and so she was. She was the first woman to rally her people to prestige and glory and led them to prosperity with her wisdom and iron-clad fist; she made a lover out of Death time and time again, but always evaded both it and God because she is bigger than them both and her successes attest to this.

As an ANGEL, however, she quickly realized that successes (even awe-inspiring ones like her own) were dimes a dozen and was left wanting more, wanting something of substance in an eternal life rather than worshipping God without end. She found solace in her own FREE WILL and never looked back—but who can blame her, as she is only adhering to God’s wish for His beloved creations? Ephemera values herself and her freedom above all else, but even she knows that the strongest of generals need legions behind them; she stays aligned with Michael and his kingdom because she wants to, not because she must.

In-Character Para Sample |

“What do you have to say for yourself, my child?”

She expects nothing less from God, who loves her so that He wishes to give her a chance to explain herself. Fool, she defiantly thinks as she stands at the throne of her Creator, head unbowed and expression unfazed. The angel waits to respond, forcing an uncomfortable silence upon them both--and God, enraptured with His own work, allows her to do so and again bring attention to His folly. He is steadfast in His love and grace with her especially, as she is closer to his truest loves--his mortals--than any of the other celestial beings that gather to watch the sentencing of the woman whom they believed never truly deserved her place among beings as divine as themselves.

Ephemera knows what is expected of her: utter repentance, a grand show of regret and sorrow, and a promise to never again commit such an offense against her wondrous Maker again. She has seen it before and it only further stoked her ire against the selfish God that holds her here in a farce of a trial in an attempt to break her will and reinstate His place as both the Alpha and Omega. She will now bow nor will she beg for forgiveness; if anything, He should be prostrate at her throne, begging for her forgiveness as it is His wretched desire to keep his favorite mortal in his dominion like she is a pet. She is unapologetic as she responds, voice unwavering: “I have done no different than You have done Yourself.”

The silence of the throne room shatters. Cherubim cry out in disgust at such blasphemy; Seraphim gasp and whisper, eyes wide with disgust that someone they called a comrade would do something so heinous. God raises a hand and the outcries stop; He looks to his masterpiece expectantly, and Ephemera continues, “In the presence of Your own omniscience, I spent centuries disguising myself as a mortal to once again feel more than loathing.”

The pain that flashes across His face is genuine and full of agony; it’s an expression Ephemera knows because she’s seen it flit across the visages of others she’s conquered throughout her lifetimes as Athena and Nike, Minerva and Freya. And still, she does not bend at her knees and profess her love; she remains upright and earnest--and how could she not, when she’s done nothing wrong?

“My creation,” God says, “you know the cost of such transgressions.”

She does. She’s heard tales of Moloch and Chemosh and Dagon; she knows the penalty of disobedience is the stripping of wings from bodies. She’s been told of the excruciating pain, of the near demonic screams that spilled from the angels’ lips as God punished them enough to traumatize them with pain, but not enough to offer the sweet outlet of ceasing to exist--and yet, she is more bothered by His language. Ephemera can’t help but bristle as He, even when threatening her with a wingless existence, lays claim to her as though she did not mold herself into the wonder that she is.

“Rip my wings off.” It’s a bold challenge that once again riles the watching masses. They call her a heretic, a foolhardy mortal who deserves to return from the same dust from which she came--and God does nothing but drink in the sight of the beguiling creature at His throne that refuses to pledge her loyalty to Him and not herself.

How can He condemn her to such a painful existence? She is one of his finest creations.

He lifts a mighty hand and she braces herself for pain, but does not balk or cower. His fingertips run down her ivory plumage, paying careful attention to the places she plucked to masquerade as a mortal. Ephemera clenches her jaw and it remains locked even as His touch leaves her wings.

“How could I, my Ephemera?” And so, He decides to draw her closer to Him still in spite of her blatant sins against him. She is a Seraphim--His Seraphim--and He all but chains her to Him by revoking her privilege to traverse alongside mortals and ordering that she stay close to His side via pretentious titles such as general, His strategist, His masterpiece, and more.

Ephemera loathes Him all the more for it.

Extras |

headcanons.

The Virtue’s wings seem to mimic her sword, in the sense that they, too, glisten as though they were cut from unforgiving ice. Ephemera’s lush, ivory plumage is, upon close inspection, flecked with gold; however, the silver tips of her feathers are far more noticeable, allowing for a more ice-like appearance. When she used to parade as a mortal, she would pluck her own feathers to make her wings less full and easier to conceal. It must be God’s favor, then, that still shines on her, as there is no evidence--save for the phantom sensations prickling against her skin--of her past actions.

Ephemera’s companions throughout her eternal existence have varied, and they are often depicted at her side by the devoted mortals that dubbed her their goddesses--Nike, Athena, Freya, and Minerva--and etched her glorious likeliness into word, gold, and marble. Her companions, too, came from those devoted mortals, and Ephemera strategically chose which animals to accept as gifts and keep at her side. These animals, kept by the angel throughout her stints as different mortal deities, include: a barn owl, a white King Cobra, a wild boar, and a silver dapple Arabian horse.

No longer needing an animal to symbolize herself to the mortals of the Old World, Ephemera made the decision to stop keeping companions and instead chose to focus on plans to overthrow God. Since then, however, the angel has acquired a red fox companion--but if you ask her, she would assert that the fox chose her, as the animal followed her home from the forest one night. Ephemera ignored the vixen at first, but soon found herself amused by her wit and overall penchant for chaos. Ephemera named the fox Gloria--a nod to the Latin word ‘gloriae’ that is synonymous with immortal glory, fame, renown, praise, and honor.

The Virtue of Prudence keeps no written records of her strategies, aside from the plans she gave Michael in response to and as a show of her allegiance to the dissatisfaction that led to the usurping of God.

Ephemera is, in some capacity, always prepared for battle. Conquest and the desire for victory run rampantly through her veins, and growing comfortable in her surroundings is tantamount to accepting defeat and complacency--both of which, of course, are absolutely unacceptable for this divine conqueror. Because of this, the angel is incredibly observant and never leaves without her sword, even though she has rarely used it since the quelling of the God and, subsequently, Heretics.

personality inventory.

Nine Moral Alignments: Chaotic Neutral - The Free Spirit

+ | opportunistic, adaptable, innovative - | self-serving, bellicose, disharmonious

MBTI: INTJ - The Architect + | independent, jane-of-all-trades, driven - | judgemental, blunt, secretive

Four Temperaments: Choleric

+ | practical, passionate, ambitious - | cruel, proud, offensive

additional extras.

PINTEREST: here

MOCK BLOG: here

#accepted #accepted: ephemera

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

Text

there are a lot of good points here and yes bruce probably should make more of an effort especially with dick and jason BUT it feels like it's slightly overlooking that some people go to Bruce spyijg so much as indicative of HIS trauma and highlighting how and where he is broken and not quite able to fix that also i honestly think a lot of it is just a running joke now and not serious meta via @fuyunoakegata

Thing is, I don’t think you’re wrong at all about how much it has to do with people going to it as indicative of HIS trauma and highlighting how and where he is broken and not quite able to fix that.......but its that latter part that’s still a sticking point for me, as the one thing that I still see as missing from a ton of places where this crops up.....is where Bruce is ever shown TRYING to fix that.

Y’know?

That’s honestly one of my biggest gripes with a lot of takes on Bruce and his dynamics with his family, as it feels like often people start from a point of “well this is just how he is and there’s no changing that so no point in trying and instead let’s just make the most of it, with this almost always requiring more effort on everyone else’s part TOWARDS him”.....

But like.....very rarely IMO, do we see a lot of EFFORT on Bruce’s part, in which he’s shown even acknowledging where this stuff is an issue and trying to go about changing or doing things differently.

And that’s the part that doesn’t work for me....because similar to what I was saying in that post, its people kinda just jumping straight to the endpoint of seeing Bruce as unchangeable, and broken....when at no point in between was there ever really any attempt at writing things towards a different end result, y’know?

And a conclusion isn’t a foregone conclusion if the only reason for it being that way is people just....not considering that there might be any alternative to it.

As to it being a running joke a lot of the time, you’re not wrong there either I don’t think, and that’s part of why I separated those thoughts into a separate post as I don’t think the original one it spawned from was honestly trying to be taken all that seriously.....but usually the difference is just a matter of tone. And so, like, it all still applies if its taken at all seriously, but yeah I mean, obviously sometimes its not meant to be taken all that seriously, in which case like....no real point in applying it to those specific instances.

Still, its something I think doesn’t get talked about enough over all. There’s a whole lot of “Bruce is just like that” in various ways and places in fandom, while at the same time its equally accepted at face value that when his kids are just like that or at all similar, that’s NOT something that can be allowed to stand and is grounds for pointing out where they’re doing something wrong. So my personal wish is for more people to evaluate just why it is in a family where every single member of it has massive childhood trauma.....its the parent whose childhood trauma is most allowed to just Exist as a definitive reason for all kinds of behavioral or interpersonal flaws to trace back to and just receive a “yeah, that makes sense” kinda view of things......while all his kids who could just as easily trace so many of their behavioral or interpersonal flaws back to the deaths of their parents or other childhood traumas.....like....do not get quite the same understanding, y’know?

Like, the deaths of their parents is so often regarded as a point of commonality that Bruce and Dick both share, but I think most people would agree that Dick’s own flaws when interacting with others aren’t usually argued as being a result of his parents’ death SPECIFICALLY, the way that a lot of Bruce’s very similar flaws are related back to that specific thing for him. And the follow-up there, is I would say we often hear or see it stated that one of the key reasons Bruce took in Dick and then later the others, was so that he/they wouldn’t grow up the same as Bruce himself, and so that he could steer them in a better direction.

Except....the problem I have with that reasoning, lies in looking at how many of the conflicts between say, Bruce and Dick once Dick is an ADULT, both stem from the same kinds of issues and behaviors that aren’t likely to just pop out of nowhere on either of their side of things, the second Dick reaches a certain age.....AND also tend to be the very issues and behaviors that people look back to Bruce’s own traumas as the explanation for him exhibiting.

So, the reason that line of thought doesn’t work for me is because the way I see it, we’re left with only two possible takes:

1) These issues that arise between Bruce and Dick later in life, that do still stem from Bruce’s instigation and are as such a result of Bruce’s own traumas and inability to process them or move past their hindering his current relationships....either the reason they didn’t become an issue earlier was because they simply weren’t on display on Bruce’s side of things earlier.....in which case my question is well then why now, and why are Bruce’s earlier traumas reasonable to fall back upon now when the very fact of their non-existience in conflicts between Bruce and Dick earlier in their relationship means they AREN’T actually a given....

2) The reason they didn’t become an issue earlier was because Bruce was able to look or work past them FOR Dick’s sake and in order to be the parent Dick needed in order for Bruce to successfully steer him down a path where he can process things more healthily/adeptly than Bruce manages....in which case the question becomes....why then is it treated as though there was an expiration date for how long or how often Bruce was able to work past/work through his own issues for Dick’s sake, and thus he no longer is able to do so despite this take basically being an argument for his ability to do precisely that while raising Dick in years past?

See what I mean?

*Shrugs* Anyway, there’s no hard and fast resolution to any of this and I don’t mean to suggest there is, more just raising the issue of how often its framed as though a Bruce Is Just Like That Though instead of a Does He Have To Be Though.

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latibulx · 3 years

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Teddy & Gaeul

ULTIMATE SHIP MEME! ㅡ closed ㅡ @nxvalunxsis

General:

How long will they last? - These two are meant to be, they'll meet in every lifetime!

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - Oh, it's been so long that I can't remember how it happened but they were best friends for a while before they fell in love, right? In my memories, Gaeul had been dating someone else who was never here and she used to spend a lot of time with Teddy?

How was their first kiss? - I don't remember??? It was probably a sweet but unexpected first kiss that maybe shouldn't have happened and that left them both flustered? Oh my god, wait, weren't they sex-friends for a little while too???

Wedding:

Who proposed? - I initially wanted to say Teddy because Gaeul is such a romantic, but the thought of Gaeul being the one to propose to Teddy sounds actually very cute. Perhaps they'd be casually relaxing on the couch, and she'd ask him if he wants to get married, pft.

Who is the best man/men? - there's none

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - same here, it's a marriage only with both of them and their baby

Who did the most planning? - Gaeul, because Teddy knows that she has everything ready since her childhood, pft.

Who stressed the most? - Probably Teddy, because he still has a lot of insecurities and doubts.

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 - I honestly think that they just put on nice clothes, went to the city hall and registered their wedding officially before going to the restaurant to celebrate. If Gaeul had dreams of a beautiful wedding in the past, now all she needs is Teddy and their baby. | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - Everyone they know. They just want to keep it between them for a while.

Sex:

Who is on top? - It depends of the mood! They don't care much about it, honestly. They switch things around, pft.

Who is the one to instigate things? - Once again, it depends of the mood! They usually know when the other is in the mood though, so they don't hesitate to instigate things.

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 - They've found their rhythm and even though they don't do much after the baby's birth, I suspect that once Gaeul will feel fine again they'll get back to it like they always do. | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 - they do like to try out new things even if it ends up being awkward and they end up laughing more than anything else! And they're definitely always up to spice things up - Gaeul's so curious, she might even research kinks! | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - Quite a while, they know how to make each other last.

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - Yes, even though I believe that Teddy will want to give Gaeul more orgasms without expecting anything in return because he loves making her feel that good and he adores the sight of her coming undone under him.

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 - I think that over the years they're being less rough than what they may have been in the past. However there are still times where both need to get rough sex. | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 - they don't necessarily always snuggle after sex because one will go shower or drink water and then they'll just go on with their day/night. However they always make sure to show the other how they appreciate them through a little gesture, may it be a kiss somewhere, a hug or holding hands while they're cooking a quick snack. | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - Two! If their first baby was unplanned, the second one was definitely planned.

How many children will they adopt? - They unfortunately don't adopt children.

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - I think they share the tasks evenly between them - at Gaeul's insistance to have Teddy as involved as possible so he can grow more confident in taking care of their baby. At first she's always by his side, but it honestly doesn't take too long before she knows that he'll do just well with their baby daughter.

Who is the stricter parent? - Teddy, because he doesn't want their children to end up in dangerous situations as he knows how terrible the world can be.

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - Once again, that's probably Teddy. He'd want for their children to come back home straight from school while Gaeul would let them hang out with their friends. They'd have to find a good balance for everyone to be happy, but I'm not really worried about that. They always work things out one way or another.

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - Saying Gaeul would be a cliché but I genuinely believe that she enjoys packing lunches for their children.

Who is the more loved parent? - Eyyy, I don't like this question. There's no differences! Both are loved equally and both love their children equally.

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? Gaeul, because Teddy doesn't have the patience to deal with teachers after that one time he almost punched one, hahaha.

Who cried the most at graduation? - Gaeul, she's an emotional mom to see her children grow up.

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - Both, Gaeul can be very convincing and Teddy will just stare down at their children wordlessly lmao.

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - While Teddy's skills get better over the years, it's still Gaeul who cooks the most.

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - I don't think either are picky.

Who does the grocery shopping? - They go together because it's a moment they surprisingly like to share, no matter how tired or lazy they might be.

How often do they bake desserts? - Gaeul likes to experiment in the kitchen, especially once they have children, so she'd bake desserts at least twice a month, if not more as she gets better!

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - Meat lovers.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - At first it would be Gaeul but I feel like Teddy would get better at making such surprises as well. Even if he doesn't cook much, he'd be able to come up with a simple pasta dish, or something not too complicated just because he knows that it'll make her happy.

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Gaeul!

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - That'd be probably Teddy for a while? Or even Gaeul if she gets too distracted and forgets she had something cooking in the oven.

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - Teddy because Gaeul tends to be a little all over the place with all of her books and then with kids toys

Who is really against chores? - None of them, they're pretty okay with chores

Who cleans up after the pets? - Gaeul, since they're hers to begin with, so they're her responsibility.

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - Gaeul, when she's feeling very lazy but then Teddy would stare at her until she's properly cleaning up.

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - It honestly depends of who's visiting them.

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Gaeul and then she'd say something like, "I forgot I put that one here", haha.

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - Gaeul has always enjoyed relaxing in warm bubble baths so it's definitely her. And if Teddy joins her, it lasts even longer.

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - They don't have a dog but if they did, probably Teddy.

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - Gaeul loves holidays so she decorates the house each single time!

What are their goals for the relationship? - They just want to be happy together and have a happy family and make sure that their children know that they're wanted and loved and cherished.

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - Before they become parents, both could have such mornings where they slept until noon. And after becoming parents, they took turns until the kids were old enough to take care of themselves.

Who plays the most pranks? - Gaeul, but Teddy also has some pranks up his sleeve!

#( gaeul: answer. )#( gaeul: about. )#nxvalunxsis #( thank you for sending this! )

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ninjakasuga · 4 years

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Sonally Headcanons (My Answers to my own prompts)

Welp, I posted the prompts and utterly forgot to add my own answer list. XD So with that idiocy out of the way here we go! Hope you enjoy my answers @gojira007 and anybody else tagged early who maybe interested! 1: Pet Names? Aside from the ‘Sal’ nickname Sonic has always given our favorite Princess; I personally see a few unique nicknames between the two crop up over time as their romance blossoms. Sonic being the quip-meister he is mixes affection with a bit of humor giving us ‘Honey-Munk’ or ‘Fiery Red’. Sally naturally isn’t one to not give her own spin in kind with titles such as ‘Greeny Eyes’ or ‘Hunky-Hog’. Both aiming for endearing but also teasing the other with cheese when not using more ‘traditional’ romantic pet names like honey or darling. Keep them both on their toes. 2: Habits as a couple they develop together? When sitting together and they have a free hand, they instantly go for a hand-hold on reflex. Another one I see them developing is little touches or pets of affection; another ingrained reflex after a time. Say Sonic is about to walk away, he gives Sally’s hair a little playful pet and flick. Another instance is either of them giving the other a quick peck be it greeting, leaving or they have a mutual eureka moment. 3: Favorite ways their significant other shows their affection for them? Sally finds that as much as Sonic’s spontaneous behavior can be exasperating, it can also be endearing when applied in certain ways. Like a back or shoulder rub here and there, when she’s stressed. Pick-me ups when she’s down in the dumps and as corny or awful some of his ballads are, the effort is endearing for Sally. On Sonic’s end, he enjoys Sally just going on runs with him. No mission, no need for any ceremony, he just pops over, asks if she wants to hang, she agrees and they run off and just, enjoy the day. Probably make out somewhere in private too XD.

4: Their least favorite trait about the other that often causes occasional friction Stubbornness is something both suffer from and it their unique flavors of it can be the force that drives them up a wall. Be it Sonic’s impulsive behavior, or Sally being too cautious, if they don’t see eye to eye, sometimes it takes awhile before they reach a compromise. Sometimes it comes fast, others, not so much and when it doesn’t both need space to cool off. 5: The moment they fully realized they were in love with the other? This varies from continuity to continuity; but ultimately I feel the mutual feelings of love blossomed naturally and so organically neither truly grasped it until something just happened to push their feelings from the back of their mind, and into the foreground. Whatever this catalyst was it shakes them up into realizing their lives could easily snuff out one day and the regret of not saying the deep-down feelings to one another shakes one or both into a confession and it spills from their into ‘daaw’ territory. 6: How the marriage proposal goes and who asks first? I myself see Sonic being the one to ask. Not so much out of a traditional romantic gesture; but it’s his nature to grab life by the horns and juice and jam onward. Once he sets his mind to it; he goes for it. Whether he actually plans a nice romantic moment, or something more subtle is up in the air. Whatever and however it goes, Sonic is the first to ask.

7: Kids, if yes how many? Assuming they want kids (and I believe they do), I honestly see them being happy having however many they wish. In terms of planned children, they’d aim for one and go from there. Given they would only think to have children would be after the war, depending on how busy they are with any rebuilding efforts or in Sally’s case, running a Kingdom, would probably factor into their mindset of however many kids. I could see Sonic envisioning a big family, but happy to settle for one, to two or three once the ‘new baby shine’ wears off. Sally would want to be sure she could actually spend time and help raise the children so I see her being practical about the number of potential kids from the get-go. Now for the NSFW Prompts; simply click to read below~.

Something Each of Them Does that Turns On the Other Like Crazy: Sally likes to groom/nibble Sonic’s ears (a trait squirrels do with their mates), and play with his quills, especially tugging ones in certain places that seems to light his fires. Sonic likes to play with her tail, and enjoys peppering her neck with kisses, especially after finding a certain spot. A kiss, lick or nibble there often seems to get the point across. Favorite Positions: Sally has come to enjoy cowgirl very much, and Sonic does too. She enjoys the thrill of the position, and he enjoys watching her move, along with her leaning over him so he can enjoy looking up into her beautiful face. Mainly they enjoy positions where they can look into each other’s eyes and just, see each other. That said, in the lazy mornings, they enjoy ‘very’ intimate spooning. If they’re in ‘crazed heat’ lust mode, anything goes so long as they screw each other silly and happily. Most positions making ‘tail grabs’ easy is also equally liked by both. Who Instigated Their First Time: Sally, mainly due to Sonic not being show HOW to broach the subject for worry he might come off too eager if he’s the one to suggest it. For all his bravado he has some worries about starting a dialogue about sex, since he’s heard numerous mixed-messaged tales of men instigating sexual overtures and it not ending well. Sally in a strange twist of almost sensing this was the case with Sonic; but also reaching a boiling point with her own horniness toward him, just straight up asks him if he’s ever thought about having sex with her. After an awkward silence, the two open up and things progress naturally to both their mutual relief and satisfaction. Fantasies Either Would Like To Make Happen: On Angel Island, finding some of the old ruins Sonic recalled from his first adventure when he met Knuckles. There was a high lookout with the remains of a room. Find that look out, make camp, and make love while enjoying the view of the sun-set, and sun-rise from that tower. With a small thrill of avoiding Knuckles or the Chaotix stumbling across them. Another one is making love in the Ring Lake; but how to do it without being caught they don’t know yet. A Discreet Gesture That’s Code For ‘Come Hither….’: Tail grabs, the instant nobody is looking someone gets a grab, and that signals its times to vamoose and make some noise. If a tail grab isn’t possible, they playfully run their fingers along the others arm, and make eye contact, with a blink and a wink being the confirmation signal. Got Walked In On By Any Of Their Friends And If So Who: That unexpected pleasure, I subscribe to being Bunnie. Her great hearing does her a disservice when she walks by Sally’s hut and hears.... heavy breathing. Thinking something might have happened to Sally, she marched in to make sure her best friend was okay. The flimsy lock was no match for her bionic arm (and she thought it was a serious situation, so ask forgiveness later if all’s well), and well. Thankfully Sally was okay, but Bunnie was given a very...clear view of things she didn’t intend to see, and to some degrees, wanted to unsee. All three parties agreed to try and forget it happened; but alas sometimes Bunnie has to bite her lip and force down recollection of that day. Of course if this is a story where she’s seeing someone, and her own lower section isn’t metal, well you get the idea. Who’s the Hornball Between the Two of Them: That’s very much a back and forth between Sally and Sonic. Sometimes one or the other is more hot and in the moment, and sometimes both are mutually wanting to love the other into a quivering pile of blissful Mobian. Sally however surprises both herself and Sonic with how craven she can be. The STRESS she is under can be immense, and not to say Sonic isn’t under any himself but Sally takes so much weigh upon herself that she is wound tight. So when the two start to become intimate; sex becomes not just a new way to show their love, but also pleasurable stress-relief.

#Sonic the Hedgehog #Sally Acorn #Sonally celebration #character headcanons

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chaoticneutralwriter · 5 years

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Intermission: The Demon In Detail

You think a great way to enhance your experience in watching anything supernatural related is to have an actual demon beside you but.... that’s just your opinion.

guardian demon! Jimin x reader

word count: 2.6k

genre: fluff, romance, supernatural, slow-burn, comedy

Related Works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!Jimin

A/N: An intermission! Can you guess what I’ve gotten myself into recently? LOL I thought it’d be cute to have something like this happen since once we get the ball rolling...not so many cute moments later on 🤐🤐🤐 (and the next chapter I have a feeling is going to be CHUNKY so...a little treat for you before that ;)) So anybody who hasn’t watched Good Omens yet but were planning to, some spoilers in that chapter! And as such, I don’t own anything related to Good Omens the show or the characters involved. Otherwise, enjoy!

“I thought you were supposed to be napping?”

Your gaze only shifts marginally away from your laptop screen to the sound of your sudden guest before flitting back.

“I was gonna just watch one episode….” You mumble petulantly but it was the honest truth. You really were planning on watching one episode of this series you picked up as a way to get you started and use it to give you that final push to knock out from being so tired.

Clearly that’s not gonna happen anymore.

Jimin gives a shake of his head, a little exasperated from your antics, not really annoyed but he does have to wonder; why are you lying on your bed like that? From his place by your doorway, all he sees is a mound of blanket that had been wrapped up into a lump with no doubt you underneath it. You’re using the giant plush calico cat shaped like a bean as a pillow, the one he got you on a whim one day and he hasn’t seen you without it since. He thinks its cute but there’s an actual, perfectly good pillow that you could use just laying not even two feet away, in fact, there’s plenty of room for you to be laying comfortably in and yet for some reason —

You’re curled into a ball, at the very end of your bed, your desk chair facing you, laptop propped onto the seat.

It’s like you MacGyver-ed your way into making things a lot more difficult for you.

You feel your mattress dip, causing you to shift with a grunt, pausing the episode so that you don’t miss out on anything as you turn your attention fully to your supernatural guardian. He’s taken a seat beside your head, one muscular thigh resting temptingly close to you. You bury your cheeks further into the plushness of your stuffed animal in hopes of hiding a creeping blush and smother the urge to jump ship with your pillow for something better.

“What are you watching that’s so interesting you forget the need to sleep?” Jimin asks, dark eyes staring inquisitively at the paused screen which has David Tennant and Michael Sheen bickering about what to do once they find the antichrist.

“It’s called ‘Good Omens’ — it’s about a demon and an angel who’s trying to prevent the apocalypse from happening when the antichrist, who’s a kid, realizes his true powers.”

You miss the way Jimin blinks, brows furrowing and absolutely flabbergasted at you when you push play again to continue the episode. He cocks his head from left to right like a puzzled puppy before he’s able to finally let the synopsis settle.

“I’m sorry what now?”

“So there’s a demon named Crowley, right? He’s the one in black there and an angel named Aziraphale who’s the one in white and they’ve somehow became really good friends throughout the years so they’ve like — oh you know what,” You pause, getting distracted yourself and not being able to re-explain the plot up until now while also taking in new developments. “Just rewatch the last two episodes, the series is only like six episodes long anyways.”

Jimin goes to complain, thinking how utterly ridiculous it would be from your paraphrased explanation alone but you’re already clicking back to the first episode. He clamps his mouth shut, purse his lips and exhales a quiet sigh through his nose, leaning back to might as well get comfortable. He’ll never quite understand a human’s obsession with his kind and angels to the point where they’ll come up with a million different ways to interpret their image — from monstrous looking creatures (on both sides) to simply more human-like supernatural entities, he thinks he’s seen them all over the years.

Oh whatever, he thinks, it’ll just be one episode and that way, he can at least say he didn’t give it a shot.

Four episodes later, you’ve somehow managed to sprawl out over each other, both equally as invested in the show. You had to hide your smile every time you glance over at Jimin who, every so often, tilts his head and then either snorts or hums noncommittally at the show’s interpretations. It also piques your curiousity on what Jimin finds approving or disapproving so whenever that happens, you usually ask him a question, even if you do sound like a two-year old discovering the world for the first time.

“So are there really four horsemen of the apocalypse?”

“There are…. Or were. They’re like Greek Titans now…. It’ll take a lot to summon them all at once.”

“Like the anti-Christ?” 

“I can probably assure you that Satan won’t be having a son any time soon.” Jimin replies and as an afterthought, his nose wrinkles. It’s weird to imagine one of your bosses having a kid, let alone imagine him to be the father type.

“…Huh.” You leave it at that, flopping your head back to rest against the mounds of pillows. Halfway through episode three, Jimin started to scold you in the way you’re laying on your bed and took it upon himself to actually drag you to the head of the bed so he can prop you on the pillows. Well…For the most part you were resting on the pillows behind you but with Jimin’s arm thrown out in the mix, you find at times you’re lying on the pillows and using Jimin’s arm as one too.

The stranger thing is that he hasn’t said anything about it.

“Have you ever met Beelzebub before? Are they like the ‘celebrities’ of demons?”

“They work in a different office division than mine, so I never see them — heard they’re not that great though.”

“Office division?” You laugh, tilting your head to shoot him an incredulous look. “So Hell runs like a corporation?”

“Where do you think concepts like capitalism come from?”

You let out another boisterous laugh, head flinging back and knocking lightly against his forearm. “Well, damn…”

His own lips curl into a smile at the sound.

It’s late into the evening by the time you get to the last episode where Crowley and Aziraphale help Adam have the confidence to tell Satan that he’s not his dad (always wanna hear something, ugly ass fucking…). You were very taken aback by the scene when it happened, finally seeing Satan for the first time, the big reveal but you found yourself more interested and far more amused by Jimin who had bursted out laughing so hard he was squeaking and creasing over himself. It then goes on to Adam restoring the world but then Aziraphale and Crowley get captured to be punished for treason.

“Is there such thing as ‘The Great Plan?’”

You vaguely feel Jimin’s fingers idly twirl and comb through strands of your hair as he thinks. Normally you’d feel embarrassed and shy away but the sensation is so nice and relaxing that you’re practically melting into his side. Plus, you’re very warm and cozy next to him.

“No, not that I’m aware of. I think angels already have too much of a superiority complex to instigate a war on Earth just to prove that they’re better than demons.”

“Well, that’s reassuring to hear I guess…”

You hear him chuckle breathily. “If it does happen though, I’ll save you…I guess.”

You scoff playfully, “Oh don’t worry, you won’t be able to get rid of me even if you tried.”

“And strangely, I don’t doubt that.”

It makes you smile smugly. The scene plays out in front of you as Crowley, disguised as Aziraphale and vice versa, gets their appropriate sentences (death by hell fire and death by holy water bath tub) but come away unscathed thanks to their switched disguises. You’ve long since learned holy water does in fact, harm demons the way its portrayed in the show (at least common demons, Jimin had explained killing someone like Satan with holy water would probably require a whole tank full and a soak for seven days) as well as other confirmed myths, like how demons and angels are actually supposed to look like.

“Demons and angels both have the ability to take on any sort of appearance they wish, as proven.” He cups one hand against his cheek and bats his eyelashes at you. You shake your head with a roll of your eyes but point taken.

“But how do they really look like? No glamour or anything.”

Jimin pauses, face slipping into a sort of rueful pensive look before he says, “Not pretty, I’ll tell you that. Demons are creatures deprived of the light, so they lurk in the dark, twisted by their very nature and obsession to corrupt. Only those who are foolish or wish to die would stand in the true face of one.”

You blink, taking in his words completely entranced even though he’s explaining something that should be terrifying and sounds a lot like a warning. Well, you suppose it would’ve worked if you didn’t already have your fair share of encounters (and would also help if you weren’t currently snuggled up against one). Besides that, you could’ve also sworn that you had seen Jimin in his ‘true’ form before, right when you first met him in fact. But then again… You pause, correcting yourself by recalling back the memory — he had been shrouded in shadow so the most you had seen of him were his striking, glowing red eyes.

So in conclusion, you hadn’t seen his true form.

Your lips purse; call it morbid curiosity but you’re a little disappointed. You’re pulled from your thoughts by a tap on your nose.

“Don’t get any funny ideas.” Jimin reprimands and though it sounds lighthearted enough, you hear the underlying seriousness of it.

“I wasn’t.” You say defensively, but then add, “What about angels? Do they fit the stereotypical halo and wings image?”

Your guardian smiles but it comes off more like a grimace and simply says, “I think you’re better off not knowing.”

Well that doesn’t sound ominous at all.

You voice as much however Jimin never goes into further detail than that. You begrudgingly drop the topic.

The episode closes with Aziraphale and Crowley changing back to their original selves and going on a lunch date. You let the credits roll, too comfortable to move otherwise. Jimin doesn’t bother moving either, that or maybe it’s the fact that you have his arm trapped underneath your head.

“How’d you find the series?” You ask, turning slightly to Jimin.

You see him shrug, angling his face towards you as he says, “It was…interesting; got a few things right surprisingly. But an angel being friends with a demon….” He shakes his head, “Yeah, that will never happen.”

“Hey now, I’m sure not all angels are assholes…” You argue, “Just like how not all demons are either…”

“Oh? And how are you so sure of that?”

“Well, I’ve met you and Jungkook and you’re both not that bad.”

Jimin hums, a low sound that vibrates from his chest and you barely register the flex of his arm beneath you before you’re hauled up from your spot. A squeak escapes past your lips as you’re suddenly chest to chest with Jimin, face mere inches from each other and those gleaming red ruby eyes staring straight back at you.

“Such sweet words, but I’m afraid that’s how you get killed my cherub — if not by them,” His voice drops until it’s nothing but a husky whisper when he says, “then by me.”

You think you stop breathing for a second, so caught off guard from how close you are to this unnecessarily gorgeous demon. His warm breath tickles your cheeks and you can practically count each long lashes over those mesmerizing eyes, and how full those pretty pink lips are….

You swallow nervously, only hoping that he wouldn’t notice but who were you kidding, being this close to him — if that doesn’t give you away then no doubt the rapid beating of your heart would’ve. You turn away, no longer able to withstand eye contact lest you want to end up drowning in those crimson depths and in a last ditch effort to distract him by any means, you mumble weakly, “D-Don’t be a such Crowley….”

Jimin blinks, confused. You think he’s going to laugh at you until his brows furrows, completely displeased. “I’m not a Crowley… at all.”

“Yes, you are.” You shoot back, grinning at the way he pouts. He scoffs, rolling you off of him in disgust and you laugh as you go, plopping back onto the bed.

“Be grateful I don’t have big creepy snake eyes. I could if I wanted to you know, but that would completely ruin my aesthetics.” Jimin argues, arms crossed.

“…What about wings?” You ask, blinking owlishly to meet Jimin’s eyes which had faded back to a warm brown. When he quirks an eyebrow at you, you elaborate. “You never really told me if demons have wings like in the show. Or if it’s even possible.”

His mouth opens as if to respond to you but then after a brief thought, he stops himself. You don’t mean anything by asking, simply curious is all but the way Jimin looks off, deep in contemplation has you a bit concerned. Just when the thought to break the sudden tension crosses your mind, Jimin exhales through his nose.

“To be honest, I don’t really know the answer to that one cherub. Maybe we did or maybe not at all — demons were once angels after all, or so I was told.”

You think he sounded a bit wistful near the end, the quiet sombreness of his tone tugging at your heart strings. However, Jimin doesn’t let you linger on it as he abruptly gets up, stretching his arms over his head and letting out a loud, exaggerated groan, effectively erasing any traces of it. “Anyways, I’m off. Your roommate should be home soon so I’ll see you whenever.”

Jimin turns to walk out of your room but you’re overcome with the urge to ease whatever emotion you unintentionally triggered for him. So you find yourself blurting out, “Well whether you did or not, I think wings would’ve looked p-pretty cool on you regardless…”

Your face feels like it may as well be on fire as you tense in trepidation, seeing Jimin halt in his steps. You can’t tell what his reaction is with his back turned towards you, so you wait, teeth chewing on your bottom lip and your calico plushie clenched in your hands like a stress ball. Then, you see him tilt his head, throwing you a look over his shoulder and that infamous smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Well, obviously that’s a given.”

The breath you’d been holding wheezes out in a silent laugh. You shake your head and watch Jimin disappear, obviously very pleased with himself if the swagger in his step is anything to go by.

He might deny that he’s anything like Crowley, but to you, Jimin is more like the fictional demon than he realizes. Perhaps that was why he was your favourite character in the series. However when it comes down to it, you'd choose Jimin over Crowley being your guardian demon any day.

With or without wings.

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toloveawarlord · 4 years

Text

Distractions

You can find my masterlist in my bio!

Event: Arthur’s Birthday Bash [Closed]

Characters: Arthur x Theo & Elaine

Requester: @claire-maccarthy

Tagging: @plumpblueberry

A/N: You asked from Elaine and I am here to deliver my problem child! Enjoy a little Elaine and her fam!

The squeaking of the bed filled the quiet room, rousing the mystery writer from his sleep. The other side of the bed empty, Theo having mentioned the previous night that he had work to attend to early this very morning. It could only be his beloved daughter leaning over him then. “Peanut, it’s not even 7.”

“I’ve been up since 5 so be happy I have a little self-control. Come on, get up!” Elaine grabbed the covers and tried to tug them away, more playful than an actual task. A frustrated sigh passed her lips. “You can’t spend your birthday sleeping.”

“On the contrary, I should be able to do anything my heart desires on this day,” Arthur countered. He was fully awake now, though he still let out a yawn. He should have been prepared, as she did this every year, without fail.

Elaine released the covers and pushed her shoulders upwards. “If I set the kitchen on fire again, will you get up?” A wicked grin spread across her features. A timeless joke among their small family.

“I suppose I shouldn’t let you take such drastic measures.” The writer sat up, brushing his hand through his messy hair. Only a few days out of the year ever saw either of them at this hour. Both enjoying sleeping past the early morning.

The girl picked up the mug off the bedside table. Steam rose from the contents. “I made you coffee.”

Arthur accepted the peace offering and scooted over, patting the empty space beside him as a silent invitation. The coffee expertly prepared, the perfect thing to wake him up. As she leaned into his side, he softly brushed his fingers through her copper hair. “You have plans for today, I’ll assume.”

“That new cafe opens today so I thought we could go get breakfast there.”

Ah, that’s the reason she is up so early. The newspaper had the advertisement plastered on the front, opening at 8 AM. Rumored to serve specialty coffee and fresh baked pastries, according to the critics who were given early access. It combined their family’s two favorite things: coffee and sweet treats.

“That’s a lovely idea. Then what?”

Elaine sat up, folding her legs under her to face him. “Actually, I didn’t plan very much. I just thought we could spend the day together.” She flashed a timid grin and rubbed the back of her neck.

Was she hiding something?

He’d taught her a little too well, it would seem.

Rather than spoil any fun for later, Arthur simply accepted her words at face value. At least, he would do so until he could prove his hunch that something was amiss. On the small chance he was reading too much into it, Arthur couldn’t bring himself to outright questions her about her intentions.

“Splendid. Without your dear other father, there will be no one to complain about how much shopping we do,” Arthur said with a wink. Theo would surely protest if he were here. Both for how long they took in each shop and for how much they spent, even though it was well within their expenses.

The writer remained suspicious the whole trip out. Elaine completely normal, not a shred of evidence to match his hunch. The cafe delicious, soon to become one of their favorite spots. Shop after shop, trying on clothes and jewelry, watches, and ties. The pair made the whole day fly by.

The moon rising ever higher in the clear night sky. Arthur stopped a carriage after their late dinner, placing all the shopping bags inside before addressing his daughter, who by all accounts look as though she would stay out longer if it were up to her.

“Don’t you think it’s time we returned home?”

Elaine sighed but gave a nod. “If you say so. Though we could sneak some ice cream-” Her offer earned her a pat on the head and a light chuckle from her father.

“Another time. Theo is likely worried about us at this hour.”

As the carriage rolled across the cobblestone street, Arthur couldn’t shake his suspicion that something was going on. Despite the fact that he was the one to instigate their return home, it didn’t feel right. Even as they exited the carriage in front of the quiet manor, she didn’t detour them inside, instead taking the worn path around the back toward their own home.

A chorus of surprise rang out from the gathered residents.

Arthur stopped, casting a glance down at his daughter who grinned up at him. “Hmm, so you were planning something.” He would be lying if he said it didn’t feel good to be thoroughly surprised for once. It had taken a lot of effort on Elaine’s part to keep him occupied without letting on.

“I knew it! You’ve were giving me suspecting glances since this morning!”

Theo approached the pair, a scowl on his features. “What the hell took you so long? What happened to being back here by 10? It’s nearly an hour later.” He did have work to attend to today, but he dipped out early in order to set this little late-night drinking and dessert celebration up with the help of Comte and Sebastian.

“Blame Papa. I couldn’t be the one to suggest we go home, or he’d know.” She was more exhausted than she realized after spending a whole day locked in a battle of bluffs and tells with Arthur. Elaine shrugged her shoulders. “I think you should say I did a good job since we managed to pull it off.”

Arthur patted his hand on her head, chuckling to himself. “I am quite surprised. You did a good job today, and I dare say it was well worth it.”

“Even if I hadn’t been hiding this, I still agree that today was really fun.” Elaine rose up on the balls of her feet to place a kiss on his cheek. Ducking away from her parents, she called back over her shoulder, “I’m staying with Uncle Vincent tonight.”

The implication clear in her grin.

“Cheeky brat,” Theo mumbled under his breath.

Arthur draped his arm over Theo’s shoulder, flashing him an equally cocky smile. “She learned that from us, you know. I quite adore that about her.”

Glasses were raised in honor of their favorite mystery writer. The party lasting late into the night with everyone filled with joyful smiles and merriment. Arthur cherished the time spent with his daughter and the night alone with his husband.

#arthur's birthday bash #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp theo #elaine odette doyle #a sneaky child

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elmidol · 4 years

Text

Error: Program Not Found - Seven

Summary: You are in charge of programming the droids that work most closely with both General Hux and Kylo Ren. Unbeknownst to you, each of these two men have it in their heads that your relationship extends beyond the workplace. This causes things to escalate quickly when your two apparently secret boyfriends compare notes on their respective partner who is far too similar for their liking.

Read on AO3

“There are many things we only see clearly in retrospect.” - Haruki Murakami

Seven: Retrospection

Being a programmer, one thing that you were good at was focusing on the small details. This sometimes happened during retrospection when pertaining to conversations. There were nights that you would obsess over lines of programming that you had to edit, that bothered you in the final project. Other times, when it came to the aforementioned conversations, you would fall asleep while replaying the scenes over and over in your mind. This more often than not resulted in your dreams having a rather playful spin on what had happened in reality or else gave a warped perspective of what could happen in the future.

At this point, you were not quite asleep though you felt yourself teetering on the edge of consciousness. You wiggled your toes to try to jerk yourself back into wakefulness so that you were able to finish replaying what had occurred earlier in your head. You were specifically focused on how General Hux had described the moment he and Kylo Ren learned that their “girlfriend” was the same person.

General Hux had shot a glowering look in Kylo Ren’s direction before opening his mouth to reply to your request. “I was working on the damage report for the droids--the manufacturers will be reimbursing the cost, you can count on that--when Kylo Ren came to deliver the results of your test. Naturally I was unsurprised by your thoroughness. I stated as much, as I feel having a work-driven significant other holds many benefits. They understand the importance of their duty. Surprisingly, Ren agreed. He hadn’t believed we would see eye-to-eye on anything. I had not believed that he was intimate with anyone.” Kylo Ren started to curl his hands into fists as a means of controlling his temper. You caught the act out of the corner of your eye.

“When he stated that he worked in close proximity with his...girlfriend…” General Hux wrinkled his nose in a display of distaste, as though he could hardly believe that anyone would be interested in Kylo Ren. “...I stated that mine also worked at my side whenever possible. That she was not using her position to further her career. It was something similar to his own relationship. His, according to Ren, did well under pressure. More than mine would. I doubted this given that you--that my significant other had been placed in his path before as well as had to deal with senators.

“‘A coincidence,’ he had said. His worked with droids of multiple specialities. An odd coincidence, I thought, but said nothing. Instead I supplied that mine was the lead on many such projects. Discreet in showing her affection.” What? “Ren said that his girlfriend was less subtle, although she played it off by using her droid to help instigate things when in a more public venue.” No. That was just TeeArr being TeeArr.

“The lady I was with enjoyed being pampered, receiving gifts. She would pretend to be shy when they were purchased. Use them when they arrived. Ren’s significant other did not like gifts. They would distract her from work.” Both of them were wrong in their own way. Not surprising given their delusions.

You were jerked out of that particular memory as your mind wandered towards the slippers that General Hux had left for you in his quarters. They were still there as far as you knew, however you did not know if it would be rude to ask for them. He had believed you to be his girlfriend when he had bought them for you. You drew your legs up towards your stomach and reached down to feel your feet, which still had small blisters from the heeled shoes. Using the lotion now felt awkward despite the fact that General Hux had assured you that you could keep it. It was more that you could not help but wonder if he had ever expected to be the one to massage it into your feet. Such a thought gave you mixed feelings. On one hand, it was not an unappealing idea. On the other, you had never thought of him that way.

You had not thought of either of them that way until this past stretch of cycles.

Suddenly you felt more awake than tired. Your mind was starting to race over any action that you had performed while in their presence that would have led them to believe you were interested in them. You could admit to being more comfortable around them than others appeared to be. That stemmed from your job. It was part of your work to give proposals to the heads of organizations. You had done that before working for the First Order. The two men had hyper fixated on some of your character traits and ignored others. This had to be due to their limited socialization with others outside the workplace.

It made you feel like a surrogate for their feelings; romanced by proximity. You pinched the bridge of your nose as a pulsing began behind your eye. It was quickly becoming a pounding, the first sign of an oncoming headache due to stress.

“I pointed out that this could be indicative that the lady he was with did not want any physical tokens of affection that could be seen by others. It might well be detachment and their relationship was a matter of convenience.” Kylo Ren bristled at those words. You tried your best to not react, well aware that this had to have been the turning point in their conversation. Sure enough, things devolved rapidly into comparisons designed to shame the other.

Maker above, you needed sleep. There were numerous projects for you to work on and going into a new day with little to no sleep would be idiotic. While you were not opposed to using sleeping aids, you would rather not due to the grogginess that persisted through the majority of the next cycle. In many ways that was just as bad as no sleep. You pressed three fingers on either side of your temple and started to slowly massage the areas. You then applied some pressure near the bridge of your nose then stroked outwards along the underneath of your eyes, hoping to ease any pressure that might be sinus related. Focusing on this instead of what had happened earlier was helping your mind to quiet.

In time, it must have worked to help lull you to sleep being that the next thing you knew TeeArr was prodding you with one of his fingers rouse you from your slumber. You waved a hand in the air to dismiss the droid. TeeArr knew you too well, however, and so insisted that you sit up before he left the bedside. It was with a groan that you complied. The droid was too persistent for you to not. Glowering, you thought of how much of TeeArr’s obstinance could work well in the anti-procrastination droids. General Hux would not find such fault with your protocol droid after that!

General Hux.

The name elicited a groan as what had happened the previous day came rolling forward like a tidal wave. It was much too early to deal with that particular headache. You readied yourself for the day. It had been agreed that you would not work on the training droids. A second programmer was being brought it; this was standard procedure, although you were more sensitive to it after having been tested. Captain Phasma had you working with a different series of droids for her stormtroopers during reconnaissance missions. Human error could occur no matter how well trained they were. These droids had to be basic. Easy for a stormtrooper to destroy if the situation called for it, but tough enough that the enemy could not damage them so easily. What this meant was proper shields and cloaking. Limited intelligence as well. Much like a typical probe droid. Captain Phasma wanted this droid to be less conspicuous than those. Smaller, you thought. Compact, possibly something that could be hidden in a small pack that a stormtrooper could carry. Lightweight.

Already you had managed to again distract yourself from matters pertaining to General Hux and Kylo Ren. TeeArr walked at your side in the direction of the mess hall. His current silence did not alarm you. He was often more at ease in the days following a cleaning. This was not an uncommon occurrence with droids and you had often reasoned that the same could be said for people of many species. What was striking you as odd in regards to TeeArr’s behavior was that normally while on the way to a project assigned by Captain Phasma, his metallic footfalls would be louder. TeeArr was making a visible effort to be less conspicuous, which you noticed each time you glanced his way.

“Do you know something that I don’t?” you teased. The droid’s servos twitched, a rather humanoid gesture that stemmed more from its ability to observe and learn than any programming you had done. It struck you just why you felt so fondly for this droid; he was something like a child to you, your child. That Kylo Ren had chosen to strike off a limb instead of destroying it outright did have a greater meaning. He had managed to restrain himself in some capacity. A show of affection--a rather strange one that you did not know how to feel about. You sucked your lips into your mouth then allowed them to pop back into place. TeeArr had yet to answer your question. “TeeArr…” There was a warning growl that issued from you at the very end of the droid’s designation.

TeeArr set his optics on your face. “You are my Maker.” Cue you narrowing your eyes in equal amounts suspicion and confusion. “Should someone woo you, what does that make them to me?” This droid was most definitely like your child. The muscles in your arms jumped, your limbs beginning to shift towards TeeArr before you caught yourself. Offering TeeArr a hug of comfort in this public setting would draw more attention than what was already falling upon you. One of the stormtrooper pairs that were patrolling this sector had walked past, their helmets trained on you longer than was necessary. It was easier to convince yourself that this was because of your current company instead of whatever gossip had managed to spread.

“No one is wooing me, TeeArr. Don’t you worry about that.”

“Suppose they did,” he countered without missing a beat. You, having turned to resume walking, felt yourself faltering in your steps. The problem that you had with this conversation was not only that it was taking place in a public venue. It was that you had not considered entering a relationship any time soon. The workload on your plate was immense. If you absolutely wanted to, sure, you could balance a relationship and a career. You hadn’t wanted to though. Didn’t, you thought with a scowl. You hated that realization was dawning that a part of you would not mind it.

With a barked out order for TeeArr to follow after you, you began to march on. Your heavy footsteps startled some of the officers, who stiffened and either hurried to get out of your way or else looked then relaxed as they saw it was you instead of someone else. Instead of Kylo Ren. You felt a scream bubbling up in your throat. Others had compared your work ethics to General Hux. That had been something you viewed as praise. Now, should anyone say as much, you would hate that they had spoken to you at all. Just the same as you disliked the similarities you had with Kylo Ren. The impact each of these had was not dissimilar to a sucker punch to the gut. You did not want to think about them.

It was with a great sense of relief that you sank down into the chair at the work desk that had been prepared for your arrival. The surface of the desk was littered with three separate datapads as well as two comm units, one holoprojector, and a thermos filled with hot tea. You knew that it was tarine tea by the smell of it. It was difficult to keep from staring at it. Your face was arranged in a visible battle of perplexity and wonderment. The tea might have been forgotten by another, that was not unheard of. Captain Phasma could have ordered it to be delivered as she was aware of what the assignment entailed--a full shift, for a start. It might be something from General Hux. that was the possibility that made your stomach roil. You felt then heard it churning and set a hand overtop it.

TeeArr wrapped his metallic phalanges around the thermos and lifted it to inspect the container. “I do not believe it is poisoned.” That made you smile. You felt the tug at the corners of your lips. Tension eased from your shoulders, which sank a fraction from their previously rigid posture. TeeArr extended his arm towards you; it was the one that had been replaced after Kylo Ren had severed the old one. You stared at the shiny metal limb while using both of your hands to cup the sides of the thermos and bring it down onto the desk directly in front of you. “You should drink it.”

The frustration that you had felt with the droid for reminding you of the situation you were in with Kylo Ren and General Hux dissipated. You felt it slowly melt away, flowing off of you and disappearing until you were left with the sense of peace that only solitude and your beloved droid could provide. You were grateful that it was the latter. With the anger gone, you recognized that you did not want to be alone. The fact that you had misread so much human behavior exhibited by General Hux and Kylo Ren had left you feeling less human. You could understand your droid better than you could them. Your droid. Your child that you had built. You extended one hand in offering. TeeArr studied your palm, lifted his servos, and poked the center of your hand with one of its digits.

He had not taken your hand as you had intended, but somehow that was better. That he could misunderstand human behavior just as much as you did made you know that you were not some anomaly. It was inexperience.

You withdrew your hand simultaneous to lifting up the thermos of tarine tea to your mouth and taking a sip. It was not too hot and did not burn your tongue. Its bitterness hit hard, which helped you to wake up more. TeeArr slid one of the datapads closer to you when you moved to reach for it. This particular device held many of the requisites that Captain Phasma had outlined since she had last spoken to you. She did not want the droid to have a self-destruct feature because that risked a malfunction or the droid erroneously calculating that self-destructing would be beneficial. Another sip of tea and you were scrolling through her other notes. They were brief, exact. Much like how she talked to others, which was not often from what you had observed.

The door to the room slid open. You were tilting back the thermos and allowing more of the liquid to slide smoothly into your mouth. Jerking your hand away, you instead splashed the tarine tea onto the front of your shirt. “Sir!” You scowled when you looked down at the wetness.

General Hux strode over to the desk. He picked up one of the comm units then held his hand out for the thermos. You felt yourself blushing as you relinquished your hold on his drink. His eyes were locked with yours. General Hux set the rim of the thermos at his mouth without blocking his lips. You watched his tongue skim the surface that your mouth had been on when you had drank. The heat in your face grew, as did the pounding of your heart. That tongue traced his lips next. And then it was gone, back in his mouth, which you could not stop staring at.

“Good day,” he said before uttering your name and leaving. You did not even have the chance to respond. That likely saved you from stuttering and further embarrassment.

After the door slid closed behind the redhead, TeeArr looked directly at you. “What he did with his tongue, I saw in one of the holovids that--”

You held up a hand. “Stop!” Kriff, you had thought it would be impossible to feel so hot, to feel like you were on fire. The thought of what else that tongue could do had already existed. TeeArr’s words only made it worse. You pressed your thighs together. Bounced both of your feet then regretted it, the friction of your thighs rubbing together sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. Straight to your cunt, which clenched. “You are not allowed to hand me a thermos ever again.”

“Is that an order?”

“Yes!” The pleasant mood that you had been in was wrecked once more. Except that you were not angry. You were aroused. You were frustrated. You were thinking of both General Hux and Kylo Ren in ways that you should not have been, in ways that they had thought of you.

#kylo ren x reader #general hux x reader #kylo ren imagine #general hux imagine #kylo ren smut #general hux smut #errorpnf

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