#And I am but a weak woman that will throw money at any game they bring out

[heredis-sanguinis]

//Last week @piltover-sharpshooter made me aware that a new remastered bundle was coming out of Castlevania Portrait of Ruin, Order of Ecclesia and Dawn of Sorrow.

My wallet wept, because I already got Visions of Mana and Tales of Arise mere days priot to that.

Fast foward a couple of days and I cleared Dawn of Sorrow with almost 100% completion of the map AND all souls collected. And now on another run on hard mode Julius Mode, for the last achievement.

[credince--writes]

Reflection, Resistance

MORALITY

AO3

Jason Todd x Fem!OC(Camile Ford)

A/N:

Hello everyone! Coming in with a new chapter of Morality and i am SO happy to be writing on it again. This chapter is kind of going to be marking where I feel like is the 'reset' point. My style of writing has changed a LOT, plot is going to be the same but I just felt like doing a lot of reflection before I start moving back onto plot again just to give everyone a little bit of buffer space.

It was innocent.

It was meak.

It was pure-

At least the thought of the intentions being so.

The thought of her standing in the world, was as if it was destiny in a way.

To be a good little girl, always follow instructions and make sure that it was done well.

Make sure she was pretty while doing it.

Maybe it was her mother that taught her it, to be good and follow orders as she’d shrink back as a child listening to the verbal altercations. Scamper up the stairs into her room and close the door in that manner she’d practiced so many times to make sure it shut silently.

So that she’d give no reason for their attention to be diverted to her.

Maybe it was genetic, to be a fucking doormat.

It seemed like every woman she had known was like one, would roll over and take it after swallowing her pride and accepting it to just be that way.

God forbid they rise up, and actually do something about it.

Strive for a better fucking life.

It was this horrible catch-22.

This demon suppressed inside of her, at the threat of being held down by chains and the insane amount of fear crippling her personality.

She had watched the men, all of her life.

She knew, down to the fiber of her being what the flick of their hand caused their wife to immediately dismiss the conversation and shut her trap meant. The silent but always-understood language in the world of violence.

Didn’t mean it had to be physical, no.

The violence of stripping a woman of her value- the soft parts of her soul she would expose in love so easily accessible and taken.  

But maybe that silly little part of Camile thought that she could be strong. 

Like a man.

To stand up for what is right- even though she knew deep down a man wouldn’t do that without some overlying promise. Praise. Acceptance. Maybe to make some pussy more accessibly lured into his bed.

So when she first realized the inconsistencies. The poorly photoshopped receipts- the outright lies on paperwork and the showboating presentations where you knew his watch was fake. There was no way it could be real with his salary- but everything was a game of presentation and if he just slicked back his hair with enough grease he could convince the room to allow him to manage twenty-five million dollars worth of assets to throw at something to see if it makes anything of their ‘play money’.

Maybe she just didn’t realize that money needed to be cleaned.

That it needed to be processed in different ways to make it look less suspicious. 

That the man who owned this company didn’t actually own this company. 

And maybe she knew better.

Or maybe she didn’t.

Maybe she wanted to feel as if she had power in the room as if she really amounted to something and could stand over a man in a position of power and stare him down and really make him know what it felt like to be weak.

The kind of weak she felt every day in that God-forsaken office. The kind of weak where she would peel the skin off of her lips with her teeth, the familiar taste of blood seeping out and onto her tongue as she bit down to pull off more.

Or maybe it was an ego.

They say your daughter is most like her father.

Maybe that is why men are always so adamant to push them down. Suppress any flame that flickers inside of them because they know just how much of a monster she could be if allowed to run freely.

So men would try to do anything to snuff if out.

Make a pretty little housewife.

One that would make a fine little assistant or secretary.

“Never train your downfall. No offense dear, but you don’t exactly scream the type to be gunning for someone’s position. It makes you perfect for this transition. Someone quiet and willing to do the work assigned without the gusto to steal the rug from under them- if that makes much sense. It’s a compliment under all of those layers.”

Never train your downfall.

But she would sit, as if she were a child pressing her cheek up against the cold glass and staring up into he night sky in hopes that the clouds would thin just enough for her to be able to see the stars. She would fantasize about that moment when she would be able to prove herself- show off just what a monster she could be.

But she couldn’t.

She wouldn’t.

There was a line you needed to draw to be human.

To know what was right and wrong and to know how to keep the two sorted. To not cause harm to others in the ways that came so easy to a man. Their morals are being shifted like a flag in the wind of their crusade. Where she stood, staring down at the events of her life and trying to understand where exactly she should put the line if they were constantly stepping over it without any regard as to where it was placed. How they could so easily excel in their lives and careers because the concept of the cruelty they exuded onto another behind them didn’t pay them any mind.

 The switch.

Just how easy it was for her to accept Broadstock for something- anything other than a wolf in sheep's clothing the first day she met him. Never coming to think of the circumstances that led him to be placed in Malory's position. Anything met with resistance was immediately removed and then replaced with something easily malleable for whoever was plotting from above. How she accepted him and trotted along his side like a fucking puppy excited to have a fresh face and thinking that it was on the up.

But it was not just the cruelty- she could take it. She was used to it. She could recognize his attempts to strip her down as if she were not equal to him. And the knew the steps he would take to continue- even if the mere sound of him raising his voice caused that pit in the bottom of her gut to fill with dread she would stand and take it to prove that she could. Just because she could stand and finally muster the courage- or gather the stupidity to snap back at him. As if she were a dog finally cornered to her limit she would lash back out, even it if meant it would result in beatings.

The fragility of her personality was highlighted in the fact that hot, angry tears would spill over her cheeks any time a man would yell at her. As if they should be granted the right- the pleasure to cause her to cry? And why? Only because she had been conditioned her whole life to roll over, beg and plead for forgiveness if she had done something that her master had not liked?

Maybe it was her fault. If she had only been smarter about the situation around her.

“I appreciate your attention to detail, but this really isn’t necessary.” Broadstock lets out a light chuckle, reaching across the table and grabbing the notepad.

“I don’t understand.”

If only she had said, “Oh, of course. I understand! How foolish of me I’m just blowing this out of proportion.”

Then it would be all ok, would it not?

If she had just turned a blind eye to it and continued to work.

The second she broke that facade of the perfectly obedient dog for him his personality shifted just as fast. Understanding that her resistance was not purely out of innocence. 

“Well you obviously are pretty stupid, you haven’t been understanding much.” He quips.

The way his lips had curled up into that evil snarl. The way the glint in his eyes changed and how he so softly set his pen back down on the desk.

“I am telling you to do your job.”

But what was her job? As a woman, would it be to become the perfect, obedient little wife for someone to enjoy and tote around as if she were a trophy? Or would it be to become the perfectly placed land block approving fraudulent paperwork she knew she was signing off on that if it were criminally investigated she would take the fall on, because, in theory, he had never looked at the documents?

That was her job.

It was like a perfectly executed dance- everyone put into their places to follow their set of movements, moving and exchanging but some never interacting with each other but still having an impact on the outcome of its performance. 

But how could she? Morally? Professionally? At this point, she had already killed one career in doing the right thing. Standing up against what was seemingly the exact same thing happening all over again in front of her and she couldn’t do anything to stop it. What would be the point in taking a stand and throwing herself like a lamb to the slaughter if there wouldn’t even be anyone to watch in protest? Even her standing up against him, alone in his office was enough to make the bottoms of her feet feel like they were lead.

Make her feel like she was a little girl all over again being scolded for not wearing the right color tights with her skirt- doing something wrong once again that would make her parents look bad. How dare she do this? How dare she act this way while she carried this family name? Did she not know who she represented? As if the preaching being crammed down her throat in that shitty little church with the too-big gravel parking lot that accumulated all of the holes would be any indicator of how much they ignored what should’ve been important. How could she watch them listen to what they were ‘supposed’ to be doing as the righteous and holy people they tried to convenience everyone they were while they simultaneously threw it out, poured it down the drain, and swallowed it allowing the burning liquid to roll down their throats and into their stomach.

Maybe it all melted down to that.

The feeling of the alcohol in her system blurs out the fear she would be eaten alive. She would no longer be that horrified shell of a girl- the one who was so softly-spoken and well-behaved. Oh, how they always complimented her behavior as a child. So mature for her age. That flask hidden away inside that drawer in her desk at work, where she’d crumble down onto her knees with the door slammed behind her where she’d open up that little metal trinket and suck the contents of it out and down her throat. Knowing that if she could just feel the buzz in her brain, that light fuzzy feeling when she started to get too scared that it would all be ok.

Manufactured bravery.

Because she knew she was not brave.

She was not a brave girl.

She was scared.

She was gentle.

She was not cut out for man's work.

A man's job would be to disregard the morals one would carry- cross any line that needed to be crossed to reach that goal.

But a woman? Oh, she was already too used to jumping through hoops and dragging her fingers across walls while she navigated the complicated world in hopes of not angering anyone or stepping on any toes. 

But it came with its own terror. To not be afraid of those lines anymore when the alcohol clouded her judgment. Those walls that she found herself stretching her hand out to so many times were no longer there- as if the playing field had been leveled when her mind was silenced. The thousands of voices screaming their rules- criticizing her actions were silenced when the comforting buzz fogged her mind.

And it scared her even more because then she thought she would never be able to be brave without it-

That it would be her crutch.

And she’d fall into the claws she had seen so many other people fall victim too. How they would grip around their throats and tug them down. The poison becomes the crutch to everything- as if it were their insulin. But they had it to begin with- the alcohol flooding their system with some kind of synthetic so it no longer believed that it needed to produce anymore. That it was obviously was in a surplus and as the posion kept flooding into their system to try and reach that same level of confidence. The warm and fuzzy feeling pulsing through their blood and into their brain makes them feel like a happy, confident, strong person again.

But what if she had never had the confidence to begin with?

That is what she would use to justify it.

Her mother said that it would start like this.

That you’d have a reason to need it.

And if you would justify it- that means its claws were already too deep inside you, and that it was too late for you.

She’d argue it too, with herself, when it proved time and time again to be her crutch on the days she would get home after the hard days, the days it was the only thing filling the void of her sorrow and regrets.

But then there were the days when it became too much.

The anger.

Anger isn’t becoming on a woman. It isn’t a flattering emotion to walk into a room with. But you can only put so much deep down inside, locking it away and shoving it down any time it unearths in those hot, angry tears that seep out.

And it comes out in rebellion, no matter how small it may start.

“I am not signing off on this paperwork.”

“Then fine, I will find a new assistant who will do what they are told.”

Camile's eyes narrowed.

“Your paperwork is sloppy too, you know.” She states.

“What was that?”

“Your paperwork is sloppy too.”

She didn’t know where the words came from.

It was as if she were a teenager again, the hormonal spite raising up in her throat when she finally felt as if she had some ground to stand upon and call out the wrongdoings that had been passed down from generation to generation and were just lolled over. The words leaving her mouth before she could understand what she said-

And there it was.

The flicker.

The look in Broadstocks eyes was because he wasn't expecting her to bite back. He wasn’t expecting much at all from her really. Just expecting her to agree with him as he bared his fangs and made himself known as the wolf he was. Expecting the little sheep she was to wail in fright and accept her fate.

It was so small, she almost didn’t see it.

But it was as if she saw a glint of an oasis so far away she would never reach it. The water glimmered in the harsh sunlight pounding down on her from every direction. Where she knew that she’d have to summon all of the strength buried deep down even into her soul to reach there.

But blinking, only to realise it was a mirage and her hope to be gone.

But she’d think of that mirage. When she lay in bed, staring up in at the ceiling thinking of all of the different scenarios that could’ve happened if she had just had the confidence to stand up for herself and actually say something- do something and be someone.

But as soon as she would see the oasis she would crumple down to her knees, exhausted from the travel.

All to stand and watch the complacency strip her of the confidence she had thought she mustered.

Malory sighed. “I’m sorry sweetheart.”

It wasn’t good enough.

He was supposed to be the one in charge- and to see him sitting in silence- complacency to his words stung.

Camile's breath was shaking as she calmed herself down, quietly sniffling. “I’ve never been a pretty crier.” Camile lets out a small laugh, wiping her eyes. “What happened to basic ethics? I mean you can’t expect me to criminally involve myself with signing off on this garbage!” She exclaims.

“I don’t expect you to.” He sighs. “I wish this turned out differently. I thought it was going to be better.” He stood up, turned out, and looked out the window.

“You know when I first got into this office, this office gave me a sense of hope. I felt like this room was going to be the laboratory of great things.”

“Has it not?” She asks.

“It was. At first. But now it has become something else.”

Camile looks at him, as he quirks his head over to look at her.

“It’s become a tomb. And it’s going to be yours too.”

Her shoulders stiffened. “Then how do I stop it.”

He let out a breathy chuckle. “Do what I did.”

“What did you do, Malory?”

“You need to get rid of any of those ‘ethics’ you thought you should have to be a good person. It will only get you hurt in the end.”

Ethics.

To be a good person?

But she wanted to be a good person.

She wanted to be the one that extended help to those in need. She wanted to be the one to nurture those weaker than herself. To discard the morals and the ethics of who she was would be to disregard herself as a person. To rid herself of the humanity that made her better- in her own eyes than them.

But it was a burden.

A chain.

A chain that was tethered around her neck and tied to the ground.

But how could she consider herself good?

She was complacent.

She was allowing this all to happen.

Maybe they were right- that all of the goodness dies in you when you come to Gotham. Anything that makes you human is stripped from you in this fucking city.

That you can’t come here and expect to be the same, because the air that this place makes you breathe is different. It changes you. It makes you the monster that you try not to think of yourself- or it makes you the prey.

“Ah, yes thank you for coming! Come, come!” He waves for Camile to come forward and take a seat in front of his desk. “I hope the ride over was good?”

Camile gave him a light smile, “Of course, thank you for having a driver pick me up.”

Roman nodded. “So I hope that folder isn’t full of confetti… correct?”

Camile let out a small laugh. “No, I can assure you that these were the documents that you requested.” She set the folder down on his desk, pushing it forward to him.

It was as if she was standing in front of a demon, sliding paper working unknowingly over to him.

Roman leaned forward and grabbed the folder, sliding it to the side of his desk before putting his body weight down on his hand and leaning forward, obviously staring at Camile's face while he spoke.

“So how are you liking working with Broadstock?” He questions.

“Broadstock is a very efficient man when he puts his mind to something,” Camile states, trying to rid her tone of any distaste she had for the man.

“That’s good to hear, couldn’t help but notice our financial document approval has been quiet slow lately. Would you happen to know anything about that?” His eyes meet hers.

“Just being thorough. It is what makes us the best to work with.” Camile tries to give him a smile, hoping he would break his sight from her.

His face was like stone, frozen in almost a pout as he stared at her trying to drink the emotions from her face, and in a blink of an eye, he completely changed. Smiling again he let out a chuckle as he brought a hand up close to Camile’s cheek.

“You know Camile, you have gorgeous skin…” 

And he spoke to her in a way only a man could’ve. The kind of way that immediately stepped over any lines just because he could. The kind of man that would request financial documents and then toss them into the fireplace right after because he didn’t really need them, no. He just wanted to see her face. Just wanted to lightly graze his fingers across the soft skin that adorned that timid- no, that gentle face of hers as she so complacently protected Broadstock even though he had done nothing but cause her pain.

Because that was her job.

But the fear. The anxiety that she would feel as her heart pounded in her chest that made her feel like she was skating around on a thin sheet of ice and could feel it cracking under her. That she knew if she moved the wrong way the ice would give way underneath. That in reality- she had no idea how to control the way her body moved on the ice- she was living on a whim. The ice would break out from underneath her at any given time and she would have no say in the matter. She would only sit on top of it and act as if she had some knowledge in the matter and think that she had control of the situation because that was what mattered.

The false sense of security that layered a warm blanket over her shivering anxieties. 

That when her heart was pounding against her chest the auditorium of her mind would also be silent.

That she’d be standing on a stage, staring out into the crowd finally being able to hold of the mic and say exactly what her mind conjured up- deep from the depths she had tried to lock away.

“Fine.” Camile said, sweeping the thumb drives into her hands and placing them in a basket. “I’m leaving for the day.” She stands up and walks out her door.

“Why are you leaving?” Broadstock calls after her. “It’s only 5:45!” He raises his voice.

“My shift ends at 5!” Camile yells back, walking into the elevator.

That she’d be able to fight back- within her fight or flight response. As if the adrenaline pumping in her veins was enough to numb the feeling of fear and allow her to pretend that none of the strange things in her life had happened. That Roman’s comments didn’t make her feel like she wanted to crawl out of her skin- drag her nails across her flesh so they would scar so that she wouldn’t be so pretty anymore.

That when it rained, it poured.

Because one, after the other things kept spiraling.

Because if she had told herself a year ago that a masked vigilante would’ve seen her as someone important enough to know something?

She would’ve laughed.

But now?

She wanted to cry, grip the cold ceramic of her sink and sob. Begging to God to wonder what she had done to deserve all of this? Why couldn’t her life just be normal?

“I don’t even know what you're talking about! Why are you in my house!” She raises her voice, and the Red Hood grabs her head and pushes a finger up to her lips. “You wouldn’t want the neighbors to hear us having our little talk, would you?” She shakes her head no, and he lets go of her head.

“You met with him today. The Black Mask. Come on sweetheart you haven’t gone many places today.” The man explains, and you pause.

“Mister Sionis?” She responds back, and he claps his hands sarcastically.

“Oh! So she does know.”

“...What did you call him a second ago?”

“The Black Mask, do you watch any news, at all?” He questions.

“...No… It’s too depressing.” She answers. “Am I going to be in trouble for talking to you?” She asks.

“Not if you don’t have anything to hide.” He retorts.

To hide?

No.

But she couldn’t help but feel something in her click.

She wanted to know.

As sick as it was- the concept of the man interrogating her because she was important enough- strong enough to know something evil? Be involved in something that stepped over so many lines, that she was able to dance with fire.

And it made her think-

Of the masks.

Could she not make herself a mask? Could she not create herself a persona, as if she were nothing akin to something like him?

So she laughed.

“Everyone has something to hide, big man. How about we start with you?” 

She had practice. She really did.

She was a young woman now- blossoming and becoming her own person. The strain in the back of her throat as she held that dead expression on her face as she stared into the face of her father as he screamed at her. 

To show emotion in this situation would be not the close your door quietly enough. It would be to give the can of gas a match. He can’t react to your reactions if you have none. What would the pleasure be of stripping down the confidence and bravery of the little girl he was so afraid of growing up into a monster that could ruin his life- ruin his reputation? There is no pleasure when there is no response.

Do deprive the fire of its fuel.

“You aren't fooling me with this ‘I'm not scared’ gimmick you’ve been trying to pull.” He leans in. “Your heart is trying to beat out of your chest and I can just smell the fear radiating off of you.”

“Yea? What's it smell like then, red boy?”

She wanted him to say sour. Like a rotting corpse- like how she felt on the inside. As if she were decomposing acting as if she had any ounce of control when she really didn’t.

“It smells sweet on you, but on all the other men I get the pleasure to visit it is sour, and rancid.”

And it stirred something in her.

She entered the office building, hands shaking. She could feel her stomach churning with the nerves of the day, she felt like a failure. The room was caving in around her. The burning feeling of anxiety filled her middle. Making her way across the office building and walked into her office, eyes laying a daring glance at her desk. She blinked a few times and shook her head, opening her office door and looking around the floor. Her eyes made contact with the restroom door and she quickly made her way to it. Slamming and locking the door behind her. She made her way to the sink where she gripped the sides and stared into the mirror.

“You’re weak.” Camile spit at herself.

“You can’t be weak anymore.”

“Pick up the fucking pieces Camile, this is your last chance.” She gripped her nose, leaning her head back and looking at the ceiling.

“Just be the bitch. Be mean. They don’t care about you- stop caring about them- stop being so fucking weak!” She slapped her hand on the mirror in front of her, staring at herself in the reflection.

 “You have to grab the room by the balls, Camile.” Tina explained. “You think you can just sway your ass into a room and expect to be gain their respect? These men are dogs. They have the mental capacity of dogs, that's why they are so easy to control. They keep an eye on a bone, but become so clouded in their own ego and thinking with their dick. That's why they put women in charge, Camile. Get your shit together and learn how to step up, or you will be stepped on.” Tina finished. “Now leave.”

“I’m not going to be weak anymore.”

"I want to be in charge." She stated. "I'm sick of this being pushed around and not knowing whats going on. I want to be in charge of something, I want to be the one making the commands."

“You need to get rid of any of those ‘ethics’ you thought you should have to be a good person. It will only get you hurt in the end.”

She could be a good person and walk that line. She would play the game- even if she was made of porcelain and cracked along the way. She would be able to take the pressure- she would be able to prove herself and prove that she can and will take what she really wants if she put her mind to it.

Would she not be able to wear her mask and create her own persona just as Red had? To harden her exterior in a way that she could build herself in the vision that they tried so hard to destroy all her youth?

Camile's chest puffed up. "I don't exactly see why you care. We don't know each other, all you are is some asshole who keeps breaking into my house and demanding information.

"Yes. That's how interrogations work."

"Well, I am a woman of business. Give me something I'd like to know and I'll get you anything you'd like."

She could have morals, and walk the line. 

“I can’t say I was expecting a call.” Red states.

“Would it be business if I didn’t get my end of the deal?”

“I suppose not.”

“I need you to work your magic for me, big boy.”

And she would build it up, slowly. Brick by brick every night that she went home and hse would coach to herself in the mirror as if she were creating an entirely new human. But she wasn’t. She was just looking back into herself, digging through the mountains of memories and emotions and remembering every action- every combatant they would have against her and her own actions, and how she could turn it against them.

Why would such a pretty, innocent face ever work in a way to make the clients angry?

She had been doing her job in the fucking useless market that Real Estate was. And she had been walking the line better than she had even known she could. Using her sweet voice to talk to the property owners, the old woman who owned the shop. The desperate son of a cripples factory owner. Shere she would have Sammy behind her holding a checkbook and asking them to name a price.

Any price.

And she would buy up their property and make their problems go away in the best way that was possible.

With cash.

And she built her portfolio, playing the game as the gentle woman with a firm attitude that would get what she wanted as she purchased property. Calling out the blatant issues that they weren’t expecting her to say. Demanding pennies on the dollar for properties and slowly buying some fo the worst areas of Gotham.

And when the properties had a problem?

She would make them go away.

Not by herself, of course. She was a good person. She was the good person in this scenario, not allowing Red to fall into too much debt to her, and cleaning out the city slowly as she acquired properties to the massively building acquisition portfolio she was building- and impressing upon the clients during the meetings.

Standing in front of the projection of the wall explaining the acquisitions moving at such a fast rate that they were over a year ahead of schedule, and why would that be?

Maybe it was because of his soft, gentle voice.

Maybe it was because the men would stare at her ass while she left and watched the way her lips moved as she spoke. Maybe it was even a day they could see her breasts perked up in her blouse.

The exterior interactions built her confidence, providing her with the equipment to build the walls up, creating a facade that was stronger than any relationship she had seen in her life. And she was succeeding in it too. Keeping her morals, staying good.

Being a good person.

Choking down copious amounts of alcohol every night because of the tension in her heart- the pattering of it against her chest because she knew when she was in the threshold of her home she could allow it to fall. That she was crumbling under the pressure of the weight she built onto her shoulders.

And it made a bitter, vile substance seep off of her.

When she had first felt it, she had been disgusted in herself. Wondering where she had gone wrong-

But as she stared at the venom that dripped out of her pores she realised what it could be used to do, and dare she say she’d scrape the venom off of anywhere she could find and store it for later. 

Would that be crossing the line?

“I wasn’t aware this was going to be a formal meeting, Mister Malory,” Camile spoke, breaking the silence of the moment.

“It's not a formal meeting Camile, sit down,” Malory spoke, motioning for her to sit down next to him.

She made her way across the room and sat down. Making eye contact with Broadstock at the end he shot her back a wicked grin.

“Hello Miss Camile, we did have to organize an emergency meeting in reference to one of our accounts, so sorry the meeting couldn’t have been better arranged,” Broadstock spoke to her, with a false tinge of concern in his voice. 

It would be like the pepper spray she kept attached to her key chain, the dinky little plastic the weak attempt to protect herself if need be. And she’d clutch it in her hand as she walked alone in the dark.

“Hmm.” Camile responded back. Looking at the two other men, holding her eye contact as evenly as possible between the two other men in the room. “And what exactly is the issue here?”

Even if she cowered internally. She would hold it close.

Broadstock stood up and slammed his hand down on the table, as the disfigured man folded his hands on the table watching the interaction unfold in front of him. “Thanks to the stunts you’ve been pulling with incorrect numbers, we have had three investors pull the carpet from under us in the last twenty-four hours.” He snaps.

“How is that my fault?” Camile quirked an eyebrow, watching Broadstocks confidence quickly falter.

“Because of you! Because of what you said at the meeting!”

“That… the numbers I used were wrong? The same ones that have been vetted with our third party accounting group when yours are under contest for falsehoods?”

“You know what you did! Your actions spoke for you!” Broadstock yelled.

And that was when she let the venom- as weak as it was let loose.

“No, you had investors pull because they realized that if you were giving faulty numbers to your management team, you are hiding things from the investors. Just like the ROI. And you know what that makes me think Broadstock?” Camile questions, standing up from her seat and elevating her position in the room. 

“I think you’re trying to hide your negligent mismanagement and embezzlement, and I'm sure any half-witted accountant could find evidence of the theory.” She looked at Malory. “And you. You’re retired. Go home, see your wife. You shouldn’t have to mediate him throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m going home.” She finishes.

And she saw it.

Her first glimpse.

Her first true glimpse.

If even only for a moment- for she could not turn and relish in the feeling of the man's fear dancing around in his eyes.

Malory nodded. “Have a good night, Camile. I think this meeting has resolved itself to the original goal.” He stood, and so did the man with the blood-red tie. And for the first time in the whole meeting, he spoke. 

“Really, Broadstock? Forging documents?” He laughed. “We are going to need to discuss these concerns with upper management.” Broadstocks eyes bulged, and he began to beg and plead for him to reconsider- he would never hurt the company.

And she wallowed in it as if it were the oasis in the desert. Even if it were only a drop.

But as the night would age on, the bottle in her hand would grow heavy.

She would understand his words.

“You are in over your head.” He cuts her off. “And I don’t necessarily want to see your brains getting sprayed off the pavement.”

“I think that could be arranged, but you-” he points at her. “Need to watch your neck. You don’t know what fire you're playing with.”

And she would start to crumble in under the weight of herself. And she’d end up out there, with the hard compressed dirt surrounding the chain, the circumference of the dogs life. It didn’t leave that circle. There it got food from passersby, and a shitty little dog house to sleep in. The dog would run in circles for the rest of its life, never feeling real grass. And she would become that dog- running feral until it was caught because it was too cocky. It thought it was fast enough, strong enough.

And it would stare up to the stars at night dreaming of freedom.

Suddenly the collar gave way, slipping over the dog's head relieving it of the collar wrapped around its neck, sending it falling towards the ground. After it landed, it scuttled away, running towards the fence gate, running out into the street and into an alleyway.

“Ha! Yes! Run!” Camile yelled after it. “Run away!” 

“Oh…” She sighed happily, bringing up her bloodied arm to rest it on her shoulder, resting her forehead against his chest plate. “Freedom.”

“What?” He questioned hysterically. “You are fuckin’ bleeding everywhere, you fought a street dog!” 

“I freed it.” She corrected.

Freedom.

She’d need power to acquire it.

[butwhatifidothis]

Can't STAND these bitches in the fandom whining about "Wah, Rhea didn't wanna let go of power, she endangered the students by never revealing the truth of anything to them" and then turn around and fuckin' GUSH about how ~brave~ and ~daring~ Edelgard is for ~standing up against Rhea~ by doing THE EXACT. SAME. SHIT.

Edelgard never told her allies about TWS and thus they were ill-prepared for them when the post-game war came about. You can tell that no one was prepared for the war because so fuckin' many endings Byleth has in CF has it say that their marriage with the person they get with was immediately followed by the war against TWS. The other characters were literally never told once about their existence and Edelgard expected everyone to throw themselves into this war she never told them would happen, after already finishing a war she'd already forced on them. Run it back guys! Edelgard's War That She Makes Everyone Go Through Without Their Prior Knowledge Or Consent Part 2: Electric Boogaloo!

Edelgard stripped every noble that stood against her of almost any power they had and only nobles that at that moment stood against her got that treatment. Counts Bergliez and Hevring were equally involved in the Insurrection of the Seven - that thing that revealed Vestra, Varley, and Aegir as "corrupt" in Edelgard and Hubert's eyes - but since they choose at that moment to stand by Edelgard they're suddenly not corrupt anymore - they "earned forgiveness". As long as they never go against Edelgard - i.e., threaten her hold on power - then they are cured of their supposed corruptness. How convenient for Edelgard, that that's how that works! Suddenly Bergliez and Hevring are totally good guys and all it took was them bending the knee to her, how lovely. Also, see Acheron.

Everyone expects Rhea to just fuckin' spill the beans of everything right away as if that exact thing didn't fuckin' lead to the near extinction of her race. As if humans knowing everything the Nabateans know didn't almost lead to the permanent ruination of all of Fodlan. And then they pull excuse after excuse after excuse out of their asses for why Edelgard was so much better for all the shitty things she did. They pin all the blame on Rhea for Edelgard's actions, because I guess Edelgard isn't a grown ass woman who's capable of making her own independent decisions. She can never be blamed for her actions, no, someone else is always at fault, but Rhea can and should be completely and solely responsible for the decisions she makes.

Nothing can influence her decisions. No outside force made her think her actions, morally questionable they can be, are the best course. Nah chief, it's her being just fuckin' evil that was the reason she did what she did. Rhea's bad for secrets, but not Edelgard! Even though her secrets involved hiding the existence of two incoming wars that she was planning on spearheading- that's fine! Rhea is bad for wanting to hand the reigns over to someone specifically, but Edelgard wanting a successor worthy of her bloody throne is something to be admired. Just look over the fact that this person almost certainly cannot be someone who came from the people, and that it's almost definitely someone deemed worthy by Edelgard, from the elite social circles, with connections to Edelgard and/or other powerful people, with the best tutors and the perfect environment, and an already surefire shot at success already. See, Rhea's means were more morally questionable, so that means Edelgard is squeaky clean!

Who cares that there is literally no fuckin' way the weak aren't gonna be fuckin' trampled under the boots of the stron- oopsy daisy, I meant "meritable". Who cares that the literal one person in BE that could even possibly be considered someone who defies this is someone who 1) admits herself that she had to "pull some noble strings" to have a chance at paying the fees - oh, yeah, because you know who thrives under a meritocracy? Bitches with no money, for sure!! - and 2) is the only BE to not be appointed general post ts. Who cares that the weak have gotten persecuted and exiled under Edelgard's reign if they believed in the wrong faith, and who cares if any faithful in Edelgard's Fodlan have to cope with the loss of a foundational support system of theirs - just be strong! Just be good! It's just that easy amiright guys

And like... look, I honestly wouldn't care about people raggin' Rhea so hard about what she's done if it existed in a vacuum. She's done some questionable shit! Shit that could very easily warrant disdain! But it's when it's coupled with the fact that I know these people will go on to praise Edelgard and love her despite her doing equally morally questionable actions that peeves me off so much. Edelgard deadass started a war that lasted five years! She starved her citizens to have more food for her men! Men of whom some of which are forced to be there! She uses meat shields in AM and VW just like Rhea does in CF! She lets her citizens be turned into Demonic Beasts for her to use as war assets! She hides shit that people oughta know just like Rhea does!

But people wanna ignore that, just like they ignore Rhea just having the Church fuckin' off away from Adrestia 120 years before the game even starts, and how Faerghus definitely has a unique view on religion that doesn't align that perfectly with the Seiros faith, and how the Eastern Church might as well don't real for all the power it has, and how it's Rhea and the Church that is dealing with all of the issues in the game and not, oh, I dunno, the nations the problems are set in (with the only possible reasonable exception being Faerghus, because of Edelgard's allies) - fuck all that I guess!

Rhea's power hungry and Edelgard "just NeEdS all that power guys!!" and Rhea's bad for holding secrets and Edelgard is FoRcEd to keep the literal cause of all of Fodlan's problems hidden from literally almost everyone and Rhea should be held solely accountable for every single one of her actions and Edelgard shouldn't because others MaDe hEr Do iT

[wornoutmouse]

Baby Daddy Shigaraki fanfic pt2

It was a miracle that no one questioned the name put down when Shigaraki had to sign the birth certificate. You summed it up as fearing for their lives but it could be many things you try to convince yourself as the reality of your new life truly set in.

The after birth pain, though constant, was numbed whenever you looked down on your son's face. He had yet to do anything more than sleep, much to your annoyance. And was aggressive when breastfeeding  much to Shigaraki's enjoyment, "Just like his father." 

Dabi was the second one to hold Daiki after Komugiri but the look of horror on his face when you fully released the baby into his arms was one that deeply concerned you. "It's breathing." He whispered to you eyes wide.

You signal for Komugiri to stand close behind Dabi just in case he really lost it. "Yeah Dabi.....he is breathing...cause that's what living things do." 

Time skip

You sigh as you finally set Daiki down inside his new bed for a nap. His small face looked so delicate surrounded by soft lavender blankets. His whole room theme was a soft purple as preferred by Komugiri. 

You closed the door till there was only a sliver of light coming in just in case he woke up again, then you headed to your living room. 

Shigaraki sat on the couch shirtless and flicking through TV channels. "Why are you still here?" You ask as you walk to the kitchen to find your tea. "What do you mean?" You stir four teaspoons of sugar into your coffee. "I got Daiki under control, you don't have inconvenience yourself."

Tomura flicked through the channels once again. "You and Daiki are not an inconvenience, you're both my responsibility now." You release the spoon causing it to clink loudly against your ceramic cup. "I don't want you to force yourself to be here, you've obviously proved that you don't really want to be apart of this."

"Y/N come on now this again?!" "Yes this again!" Shigaraki groaned scratching idly at his neck. "I've already missed the hidden trailer off Daiki's life I'm not going to miss the prequel sequel." You groan softly, "Stop talking in video game terms you know I don't understand!"

Shigaraki stands up and walks to the kitchen now leaving only the island separating you. "Look you can hate me all you want, I don't care, hell I'm used to it. But you are not keeping me from my son." You shudder at the tone Tomura spoke at.

There were very few times when you've heard this voice and luckily it was never directed to you. This voice meant that what he said was final and he would not go back on it no matter who got in his way. "I would love to have you in his life Tomura, but I don't want what comes with it." You finally say, making Tomura throw his hands up in defeat.

"What do you expect me to do woman?! Make him tag along on "Bring your child to work day?" You turn away trying to contain your annoyance in fear of waking up the baby. "I'm giving you one chance to get your shit together, don't mess it up." Behind you, you could hear the steady steps of Tomura retreating, "And I'm giving you a chance to see how stupid you're being right now."

Before he completely walked away he stopped, "I am going to check on Daiki since it seems like he's the only one that appreciates my efforts."

Once you heard the familiar creak of Daiki's bedroom door you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. "How did I get like this?" 

It of course was on a Saturday, as all good stories do. You were working a waitress job at Denny's as a way to earn some pocket money for your first year in Japan. 

"Table 3 we got your Bourbon Chicken skillet, Fish and chips, two waters, and a cherry sprite." Your say setting down all your items before walking to the booth next to them. 

"Hello welcome to Denny's, what can I get for you all tonight?" Dabi at the time, had a nonchalant hand over Twice's mouth most likely to stop his internal bickering. Komugiri was navigating the kids menu with a then 15 year old Toga. Spike ordered some Fish and Chips as per usual and Shigaraki was starting at your tits.....

Shigaraki was staring at your tits.....

He was STARING- I think you get the point

"Hey birthday bitch what are you ordering?" Dabi said snapping Tomura back to the present. "Uh.. get me a steak skewer." Dabi gasped, "I spent all my time and hard work scrounging up money and you get a damn steak skewer for your birthday?!" 

The five stages of grief came over you internally as you had been standing there way past your recommended time. "If you guys aren't ready to order, I'll just come back-" 

"No no no, we are ready. Can we get chicken on a stick with a side of grapes and fries for the young lady. Steak and eggs for me...Dabi? Dabi leaned back simultaneously releasing twice. "We would like a 3-egg omelette-with some cock!" 

You didn't get paid enough for this.

"I'll get you the omelette but I'm afraid I'm out of stock for that last part." You smirk, putting down the orders so far. Dabi snapped the menu shut, "Do y'all have chicken tenders?" Dabi asked, looking at you hopefully. You nod and he fist bumped Twice for some unforeseen reason. 

"Uh get crusty over there a Supreme Sizzling Skillet." "Wait why can all of you get chicken but I can't?!" You wrote down the orders and glanced at Shigaraki who was now looking directly at you as if you held all the answers. "Okay for drinks?"

   As you got off work, you took the back alley entrance to the bus stop. "Hey." Your scream and toss a punch into the darkness effectively making skin to skin contact. "Ow what the fuck?!" "What do you mean what the fuck you're the rapist!"

Shigaraki's signature light blue hair appeared from the shadows almost glowing from the dim alley light. "Rapist? No, I'm more on the lines of stalker." You stand there for a moment rethinking your life choices. "Yeah okay well I'm going to go-" "Wait!" 

You feel half of a hand grip onto your wrist stopping you in your place. "I uh... Think you're cute and, ah crap what did Dabi tell me to say?!" 

As he mulled over his choice of words you hesitantly reach into your purse for pepper spray. "Uh I was wondering if I could get to know you?" He finally ended off staring at you expectantly. You looked back at him expectantly.

"I know this seems creepy but I'm not exactly good at talking to people that are not my friends so you're kinda boss level interaction." For a while your stare at each other as the cold fall wind blew past the two if you. Giving up, you sighed and pulled out a price of paper, "Look, if I wake up tomorrow and none of my underwear is missing and window is not mysteriously open, I'll give you a call, but don't expect it!"

And he didn't expect it. To your surprise, you never found any ominous signs of entry into your substitute home, and he never 'conveniently' showed up at your job. 

Even so, the very fact that you called him was during a moment of weakness. You were extremely home sick and you had just moved into your new home that was only equipped with a fully furnished bedroom and a microwave. 

When you heard the hesitant knock on the door you quickly put your cup of noodles down and opened the door. In your face was a rose...a single rose in a pot. 

Thats different

"It was short notice and it's not like any flower places were open.... So I stole it." You gingerly take the plant into your hands, "It's the thought that counts (?) Come in." You shut the door behind him and set the plant in the kitchen. 

"You must forgive the dryness of my home, I just moved in so there isn't much going on." Tomura hummed as he felt his bones relax as the warmth of the house filled his body. You stared at each other for a while, awkwardly sweating back and forth. Finally, you both opened your mouth to speak up.

"I didn't know I'd get this far so.."

You blink at each other before you double over with laughter. "Uh okay, well how about we watch a movie, get comfortable. The TV is in my room so I hope that doesn't bother you." 

You put on Wall-E for lack of better mood as Tomura hesitantly settled on your plush bed, hands clasped tightly between his thighs.

You two watch these movie in silence and shared popcorn. It wasn't awkward silence though, it was needed. A unspoken message saying that you both acknowledged that this was weird but it was a good weird. Both of you were willing to give it a try.

"Hey pass the popcorn." Tomura said blindly patting the air in front of you. "No you've ate most of it already!" You opted to keeping the bag as far as possible. "It's good popcorn now hand it over." You continue to resist but he was more stubborn.

Unable to think of any other way to save your beloved popcorn you clench your eyes shut and deliver a small peck to the tip of Shigaraki's nose. 

Almost as if shocked, he slides away holding his nose gently. You huff with airy laughter at his flushed face, "Told you, this is my popcorn." 

You smile softly at the memory wiping away a stray tear from your face. "One chance... I'll give him one chance."

You tiptoe to Daiki's new room and peek inside. It was too dark for you to see inside so you opened the door completely. You blankly look into the empty room before falling to your knees. "SHIGARAKI TOMURA I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" You scream into the night air as you glared into the baby less crib.

"Man are you sure you should have him here? He's still a newborn and nothing's baby proof, hell this is a bar so it's far from sanitary!" Dabi said glancing into the baby carriage. Daiki sleepily gazed up at Dabi and babbled. 

"Y/N and I are going through a small set back so I decided to give her some space." Tomura unclipped Daiki from his carseat and picked him up holding his head in a four fingered hold. "We decided to give her some space isn't that right?" He cooed at Daiki who gingerly hit his nose.

"Dude stop, seeing you with a baby is giving me the creeps." Shigaraki glared as Dabi took a shot, "Ignore your uncle Dabi he's just mad he's not as cute as you."

Komugiri was washing dishes until a shiver went down his mystical spine, "I feel a disturbance in the force.

[yaoipaddlestar]

What do you think of the new champion roadmap?

Omg I have sorta mixed feelings!!

I'm kinda excited for Asol changes? But the fire breathing while flying things puts me off a bit I'm not going to lie. I wonder what the dps/mana ratio is going to be. And I wonder how they're gonna fit the fire breath in juxtaposition to his ultimate? I'm assuming that's changing too but I wonder into what. I hope they keep the star/supernova theme that his abilities have now bc I think it's a rly cool concept. Moreso than just... dragon breathe fire and fly. Tho tbf I'm not particularly engaged in the Asol changes bc I played him once ever and sucked so bad I've never tried again lol

I'm sooooo excited to see K'sante!! I don't play a lot of top lane bc im bad and I hate fighting top laners but I also love playing top laners (that's why I throw games with Camille supp /j) so I genuinely cannot wait to see him. The concept of his weapons sounds really cool and I wonder if his ultimate is going to be something that empowers his weapon for a short time (almost like jayce? But with a limited duration + longer CD). I loved the art they showed for Nazumah and I am so ready to learn more.

I'm honestly not looking particularly forward to the new darkin champ bc I cannot stand assassins (got my ass handed to me by a qiyana tonight 😭😭) but I also go bonkers for darkin lore so at least there's that 🥴 I hope this new one is a lady! I'd like to see another rly buff woman in this game but idk if they'd use that kind of frame for an assassin. One can dream

I'm cautious abt the other possible midscope changes bc the fella in the video (forgot his name) mentioned Neeko and I love neeko as she is rn but if they found a way to play further into her shape-shifting I think I'd be super into it. Also from one Rell player to another I wouldn't mind her getting a few tweaks. I love her kit but her MS and lack of solo-utility hurts as a chronic kill stealer. With champs like Leona and Naut I feel like they pose more of an individual threat to other laners but Rell is much, much more dependent on her ADC and I wish you could have more fun with how you build her (never tried it but id love to see rell with the kinds of builds you see on a tanky Morde or Gwen. Riftmaker + demonic embrace + thornmail + spirit vasage) but she just often feels too weak to entertain the idea. Maybe I should try it out before I knock on it tho. Or build her w/ sunfire instead of evenshroud

Excited to see the ixtal champ too! I don't have any particular feelings bc I don't play many enchanters and they revealed so little but as long as its not the sequel to Yuumi its cool.

I'm also super excited for the fright night skinline. The urgot and Renata skins 😌👌👌. Makes me think of nightmare before Christmas (probably as intended) and I just aaaah. The more I play the harder and harder it gets not to spend money. Holding out rp for that new Camille skin atm 😏

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

OH MY GOD YOU HAVE TO CONTINUE THE DROWNED SERIES, IT'S SO DAMN GOOD

Thank you for the ask, it makes me excited to see that people are still interested.

Drowning Part 10

@shydragonrider @asrasmysoulmate @sunflower1000

This one is kind of short, and probably makes no sense, but it starts to explain the story line a bit more and what my goal is with Supervillain (and perhaps the reason I am not having him rescued... yet 👀). Anyway, not edited.

Ask games for this series are here and here.

Masterlist

Warnings: referring to person as "it", altered state of reality, dehumanization, muzzled, talk of surgery, weaponizing a human, fear

~

"Okay thank you for your cooperation," the director said as he stopped the recording. He looked up, smiled, and began to pack away his things- an array of various instruments to enable both Villain and Hero's voices to be clearly heard all the way at the Hero Facility.

"Yeah well, I expect my pay within the next two days," Villain crossed his arms and swung his leg over top of the other one.

"That may not be-"

"Director. I am doing this for you guys. I have my record cleared, Hero in my custody, and a billionaire. I don't need to this for you guys."

"But you are in love with the cash," Hero chimed in, rolling her forestry green eyes. Not with attitude or snarky annoyance, but out of pure loathing.

Villain shot her a glare the second she closed her mouth and stood up, pacing. "I want my pay, fifty-thousand for a mere conversation isn't something you come by everyday," he said, rubbing his hands through his blonde mane.

"Yes but-"

"The only reason it was fifty-thousand," Hero interrupted the director. "Is because you pushed it that far." She didn't exactly understand her exasperation. After all, she agreed to do this with him- not that she had a choice. She was, in fact, thankful for him for breaking her out of the facility, even to the point of restoring friendship.

"Well they consented..." Villain's voice trailed off as he stopped his aimless walking. He sneered, a mischievous look dawning on his face. "I could, just for the record, break Supervillain out of his cell easily. Actually, I bet a novice could."

The director stiffened, fingers tapping the screen on his phone, prepare to call the authorities. Hero smiled slightly. After her aided escape, the heroes didn't bother to recapture her or Villain. And it was all because her rescuer threatened the Hero Facility if they tried to reclaim her. It was like he controlled the heroes- and maybe in a way, he did.

"Okay you will get the money! Write him a check or cash him over some. I don't care, just give it to him."

Villain snickered at the director's desperation and fear.

Hero watched as a young girl scribbled a check and handed it to Villain. Then, after than transaction, the whole team wrapped up and left without another word.

"Hmm," Villain said, eyeing the check he possessed.

"What do you want for dinner?" Hero asked, repeating the lines her current maid position required of her- not that she had to, Villain was not strict enough to enforce rules, but cleaning and cooking seemed to put his explosiveness at ease.

"Nothing. I have a date."

A date?!

"You have a girlfriend?" Hero chuckled. "Who is the unlucky damsel?"

"That's besides the point, but she is quite pretty."

"How long have you been dating?"

"This is our third date within the course of two months."

Two months... that was duration of time since she and Supervillain were kidnapped.

"Not that consistent then," Hero commented instead of voicing her curiosity.

"She works as a nurse, so she is quite busy," Villain replied, folding the check and placing it in his jean's pockets.

"I see," Hero replied. "Where is your date? Please tell me you are not taking her to McDonald's."

"That coffee date in the park sounded great," Villain replied. "Then I was thinking Taco Bell."

"No, no, no!" Hero scolded, pushing herself to her feet. "You are not taking this poor girl on a date to a fast food restaurant. You are a billionaire, Villain. Take her to one of those places where they serve an ounce of food for thirty dollars and spoil her."

Villain blushed, pulling at his fingers nervously. "You know a couple months ago I thought I would be taking you on a date."

"Me too," Hero sighed, placing her hands on her hips.

"I guess life took a turn, didn't it?"

"Yes," Hero replied, extending her arms and wrapping Villain in an embrace. Before she let go, she whispered:

"Torture was in that turn to, wasn't it?"

Villain's muscles tensed, he coughed and pulled away. "See you tonight," he said and ran up the stairs to go get changed.

《~~》

All at once, a piece of light, a string of consciousness sprouted through the dark unconsciousness of the patient's mind. It swirled, bombarding lidded eyes with intolerable brightness. They strained, trying to shut, but it was as if the motor lost control- or gained control, depending on which side of the metaphor you are one.

Then the light formed into various shapes, some holding objects of humanoid form whereas others were cubical, rectangular and circular- making the world around the patient pixelated and blurry. Colors rounded to the basis of their hue- cyan swirling into blue, pale yellow whisking itself into an off-white- until the world was a pallette of bland coloring.

The noise, lolling in a sense, but also increasingly obnoxious. Beeps and rings, rumbles and grumbles, but all the vowels and consonants equaled a series of off-tune words, some faded, others marked with clarity.

Not safe, were the only cognitive thoughts. Not safe not safe not safe. He tried to thrash, anything to get away from the looming danger, though his protruding limbs were too weak, will devoid of any resolve.

More sounds rumbled and purred around him as equally slow restraints grappled at his arms and legs- or were they fast paced? The man didn't know. The perception between reality and unreality was dim, as was his ability to process sleed and direction. Heck, he didn't even know his own name, just the anticipated danger.

He coughed, or tried to, some form of blockade in his mouth inhibited any sound, cough or otherwise, to escape. Tears pricked at his eyes, later streaming down his cheeks- he wanted to go home. Home to that dank apartment that couldn't seem to leave his very intellect. He wanted home, needed home...

The shapes around him once again began to evaporate, but this time instead of mixing into like shades and tones of color, they all shifted to one mass of brown-colored mud before it all vanished into blackness again.

《~~》

"Vitals?"

The doctor's voice ran throughout the room as nurses scrambled to check Supervillain over. The room soon sung with a chorus of "Good".

"Then everyone is dismissed other than Doctor and Medic," a new voice, equally as authoritive yet significantly much more of a feminine type.

All the nurses practically galloped out of the room as a hoard, not daring to look at the woman who just stepped in.

"Leader," the doctor greeted the woman. "What brings you here?"

"I've come to look at the project. I heard it just underwent surgery?" The lady spoke, walking up to the bed where the unconscious patient rested.

"Yes, knee replacement surgery," the doctor replied, joining Leader by the bed. Medic appeared across from them, tenderly rubbing her fingers over the supervillain's hand.

"Fifteen hours on the table," Leader continued to speak, observing Supervillain with contempt in her gaze. "Why?"

"We had to replace the entire knee cap with a newly engineered material made from cells of donors and a type of substance formed from titanium to enhance strength and durability. Then we had to connect the nerves and ligaments to the knee so he can control it like normal."

"Also known as a high-tech prosthetic? Why, may I ask, did my project have to get one?"

"Broken knee..."

"Shattered, Doctor," gray eyes darted around to meet the doctor's humble brown ones. "Not broken, but completely shattered. It needs to be fully operational by the end of the month."

"Ma'am, the recovery is going to be rough-" the doctor tried to protest.

"We have serums for that," Leader groaned, throwing her head into the air.

"It is not safe to drug him with much. His cells and blood need to adapt."

"I don't care. I put a lot of time and effort and money into this project. The enemy is going to launch an attack soon, our spies have gathered enough data to anticipate it by the end of the month. You have been soft Doctor, in his training."

"It's been working," the doctor reasoned.

"It's submission, not training. Ever hear of conditioning?"

"I have done some research into it and I believe that we need to take a more-"

"Yes you are right," Leader smiled. "I don't want a bodyguard. I want a weapon with one, single purpose. Eliminate Hero."

"I don't get that," Medic spoke up, her voice soft, yet filled with courage. "Why get rid of Hero when she is not the enemy?"

Leader chuckled, eyes thinkling. "What an ignorant little girl, so cute though. Did you do your make-up today? Hmm." The baby talk rapidly switched to a more serious tone, "She is a threat, even bigger than this newfound enemy. The moment she joins sides, which we know she will, the odds will be... let's say any attempt to stop them will be suicide."

"We contained her once before..."

"She will be mad, you'll see," Leader acquired a distant look in her dreary gray eyes. "Start weaponizing it. Immediately."

《~~》

Run.

Duck.

Jump.

"I love you."

"Love you more."

Punch.

Supervillain was panting for breath by the time he collapsed on the ground, exhausted to the highest extent. Sweat beaded around his hairline- recently trimmed in a convenient, yet flashy style, with a lightning bolt shaved into the side.

"I love you."

"Love you more."

Supervillain groaned, rubbing shaking hands over his face. Turn it off turn it off turn if off...

Everyday started with a morning workout in the gym. The gym had a track running around the whole thing with obstacles for him to duck under and jump over. The center only had a punching bag and a benchpress, but equally sweaty and daunting.

Suddenly, the loudspeaker rang, signaling that Supervillain could leave.

Once, of course, training was done.

Workouts weren't training, they were extra credit designed to get him further, to get him a higher GPA.

The doctor entered the room, so Supervillain stood up- respect, expected and therefore delivered.

"How many laps?"

"Twenty-five, sir."

The doctor took note of that on his clipboard, frowning before asking his speed.

"5 miles per hour, sir."

This time, the doctor smiled. "Good," he praised, then looked at the benchpress.

"Three hundred pounds," the doctor tapped the dumbbell with his pen, still grinning widely. "Nice work, but yesterday you did three-fiftey."

Supervillain whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. He failed he failed he failed he failed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, proceeding to walk towards the nearby intern to receive the needed correction.

The intern raised her hands, holding a contraption of metal and leather, and slipped it into Supervillain's mouth. He whimpered upon feeling the cold metal slid onto his tongue. A leather strap held it in place, tightly buckled in the back of his head. From that extended more leather that went over his nose. A chain was linked through the nasal strap, more cold metal on warm skin.

Abruptly, he was pulled forward. The metal pinched that nerve- the one that always ached from the commonly given treatment.

The intern pulled him into yet another white room.

Yet this one contained the most dreaded torture implement.

[cerastes]

yo drimo my man ive been led to believe you know a thing or two about youkai. is there much of a difference between doumeki and dodomeki? I've been under the assumption those are just different spellings for the same hundred eyed fiend but i'm not too sure, and it's hard to dig deeper since searching doumeki in english just gets you anime characters or dodomeki pages

Doumeki and Dodomeki (and Todomeki, for that matter) are indeed the very same youkai: An oni that takes the shape of a woman whose long arms are covered in hundreds of bird’s eyes (though nowadays, it’s most commonly depicted with human eyes, and not just on the arms, because that’s fucking raw) and who is fond of stealing from others. “Dodo” basically means “hundred hundred”, which is an old Japanese manner of succinctly saying “that’s a shitload of eyes”, so “Doumeki” is just shortening the redundancy of “That’s A Shitload Of Eyes Demon” into “Hundred-Eyed Demon”, but they refer to the very same youkai, yeah.

Dodomeki, actually, is my favorite youkai ever. It’s just a fun youkai in general because it’s basically constructed on puns: It’s a long-armed demon, with “long-armed” being old Japanese slang for a thief, and it’s arm is covered in bird eyes because “bird eye” is old Japanese slang for the bronze coins with a circle in the middle that they used back then. In many ways, Dodomeki was the good ol’ Japanese people having a laugh while explaining weird shit going on, which is the basis of basically most mythology and folklore.

Though the Dodomeki is better known for being a lady covered in eyes that steals from others, she also had a lesser known, more traditionally oni form, that of a giant demon over ten foot tall covered from head to toe in glowing eyes with long spiked hair, known to consume carcasses of animals and and the corpses of fallen warriors, including their possessions. You can interpret that to mean that, initially, Dodomeki might have been an allegory for battlefield scavengers, who collected the weapons and armors of fallen warriors after a battle, as well as the horse meat from horse carcasses. These acts were frowned upon, for you shouldn’t disturb the dead! It was also not terribly rare for particularly needy people to consume human corpses in abandoned battlefields, when the economy was really bad (guess what, the economy was really bad a couple of very important times when there was war), further showing us that the Dodomeki is more or less a representation of post-combat looting and scavenging. She has a certain link with the Kasha in this regard!

Now that’s obviously dope and culturally interesting, but what’s more, the Dodomeki’s legend never fails to crack me up because there was this Fujiwara dude who was enjoying all the new land he had earned after beating a Taira big wig, when suddenly, they report to him that his beautiful new countryside is being RAVAGED by this gigantic demon, so he’s like “nu UH”, rides over there, and shoots the Dodomeki (who is feasting on horses) in its obvious video game boss weak point: The BIGGEST and BRIGHTEST eye. It works, and the Dodomeki plummets and starts screaming, but not before unleashing an ocean of fire and poison so potent that the land was considered uninhabitable for some time afterwards, which really bummed out Fujibro. So like 400 years pass and in this one village close to Mount Myoujin, the head priest of the temple there turned up one day looking like hammered shit, like, someone just beat the SHIT out of him, so he quit, and a new head priest was appointed, no one too important, it was just SAINT CHITOKU, which is like saying “oh, the last accounting manager quit, so we hired Goku to replace him”. So Saint Goku starts investigating this and, what do you know, the village was actually built on the very same place where Fujiwara had bodied the Dodomeki, and he also noticed that a certain young lady visited very frequently. However, since Saint Chitoku is a NG++ max stats Arcane Strength build with 99 Insight, he immediately recognized that this young lady was the Dodomeki. So he’s like “yo did you beat up the priest?” and she’s like “aw shit dude, sorry about that, yeah”.

But Chitoku didn’t really sense any killing intent from Dodomeki, so he asked her “yo so are we gonna throw down or what?”, to which the Dodomeki answered “yeah ok look I was only coming back here to scoop up all the fire, venom, and blood I vomited back in the day when some dude shot me in the important eye with an arrow, and afterwards? I was gonna take revenge and kill the SHIT out of everyone here, but you know WHAT?”

“What?” said Chitoku, actually wondering where the shit this was going because this was a first for him.

“While collecting my blood and stuff, I keep listening to your sermons, since you’re the new head priest, and you kinda make a lot of sense, I think we SHOULD take care of each other and not be assholes, so I am not going to be an asshole anymore, sorry for 16 hit comboing the other head priest.”

So, basically,

So from there on she never again became a massive giant demon that ate corpses or did corner Roman Cancel Super Combos against head priests that wouldn’t block, and instead remained a roaming lady that would sometimes pilfer some money from someone for funsies but otherwise didn’t really do anything evil again.

The moral of the story is, as it is always, that while there’s the obvious religious touch to the mythology and folklore of Japan, you cannot say they didn’t have a fucking blast making their monsters and their backstories.

[ilovejaskierthebard]

Concept: In a more peaceful world, the Witchers are just a bunch of dudes with tragic pasts and Geralt is a horse-trainer, Lambert is a baker, Vesemir is the village schoolmaster, and Eskel is... uh... well, no one really knows, because he doesn't actually live in the village. He lives in the hills with his ten goats and sometimes on market days he comes down and sells cheese. How does he make this cheese? No one knows. It's pretty good, though.

Okay. First off. I love you and this whole soft concept and I just like, wanna throw myself into it like a crazy woman.

So Geralt is living his best horse-girl life and loving it. 100% teaches the local kids how to ride maybe even has little shows/games and gives tiny medals with horses on them because why not its 2 am and I wanna picture tiny babies on ponies while Geralt smiles okay

Ciri is deff a student and they super bond

-and maybe a certain Bard is like his only adult student who has "trouble" and needs leasons at different hours and its not cause Roach doesn't like him, maybe he just needs a refresher course. Late at night. Alone. Maybe someone loses a shirt?

Maybe Jaskier is actually a good rider, but saw Geralt the hot horse trainer and whoops he slipped and fell in love and DESPERATELY NEEDS LESSONS 'oh Geralt, I am so weak, please help me up? Oh Geralttttt I need help being balanced maybe you can sit behind me??' MAYBE I am just writing a romcom now and no one can stop me

TOSS A COIN TO YOUR HORSE TRAINER

((More like toss your coin to your well hung stable owner. 😉😉😉))

Lambert. Baker.

[Low hysterical laughter]

This bitch bakes. But like. Angrily?

He is still LamLam ok, big dude with the worst case of Resting Bitch Face since my own. But now in an apron that Geralt or Eskel stitched tiny angry muffins on it.

His bread and sweets are DELICATE and SOFT and works of ART ok but he is still Lambert, my favorite goblin baby so he will 100% make your baby the best most beautiful smash cake -fuck it probably looks like a mini unicorn with handcrafted icing flowers and edible gold leaf BUT he would also mutter and swear the whole time and threaten to burn the bakery down at least 7 times. Probably cries about it too.

10/10 if someone tries to steal his super special recipes he would stab them with a rusty bread knife.

Vesemir as a school master but also clearly the kept man of a local rich widow (*maybe a few, I mean I was thinking of Mignole, but whose to say Papa Vesemir can't be out and flirting with rich upper class ladies. Maybe he was a sugar baby in his younger days, okay. I won't kink shame a man who can kick Geralt's well toned ass. You do you, Papa V) so he doesn't need to work he just likes keeping himself busy and enjoys it. I see him lounging about, reading and maybe yelling at kids to get off his yard.

Its just Lambert setting up his bake sale ok

Eskel is hottest goat herder and that is just the facts. He still has his jacket. He still has his Codpiece of Destiny (let me fullfill that destiny jfc someone take my phone away from me pls I am just helplessly dissolving into a fantasy of Eskel the Hot Goat Dad)

He has a whole herd. All of them have names. Like Miss Daisy. Buttercup. Flora. Rascal. Lamb Chop (cus Lambert is a dick) Lil bleater is the baby of the group and maybe he got sick as a baby so Eskel spent a lot of time holding and cuddling him and so now lil Bleater 100% thinks Eskel is his mom and every time they are out just follows Eskel around.

-excuse me while I go cry real quick

Also he makes cheese because what else is he gonna do with all those goats?? Shut up Lambert he won't kill his babies. So. Cheese.

It starts out as a hobby and really simple cheeses but because Eskel is like, a secret foodie at heart suddenly it is like those special designer cheeses that people TRAVEL for. Maybe Lambert sells it at his bakery too?

Meanwhile every desperate housewife and well hung stable hand is just like in tears trying their horny very best to get into that Codpiece of Dreams & Destiny.

Eskel heads into town once a week and its a whole THING. People spend days thinking up lines to get his attention. Probably cheese related flirty puns because they all applied to Jaskier's World Class Flirting Courses. (Why wouldn't they?? His flirting is totally working with Geralt so maybe that's just how you get a hottie of that level??)

Poor Soul: Brie Mine 😉

Eskel: What? I don't have Brie?

Poor Soul about to get his money back: 😧

Everyone flirts their pants off but Eskel just doesn't get it. Maybe they are just being nice because of his scars? Maybe Lambert threatened them with burnt buns for a month?

Meanwhile there are like at least three people willing to propose marriage at any given time and help him raise all his goat babies IF HE WOULD JUST LET THEM???

Im done now.

[volleychumps]

An Accidental Kind of Love (Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader)

Episode 10- Fading Nightmares 

Text Below the Cut:) 

Prev; Next; Masterlist 

I feel this needs to be described in vivid detail...

--------------------------------------------

“What...is this that abandoned school? Isn’t it set to be demolished soon?” Futakuchi mumbles in disbelief, closing the car door quietly. Kuroo claps Iwaizumi on the shoulder, shaking him slightly. 

“As much as I know you want to kill that piece of shit-” 

Iwaizumi glances at Kuroo’s hand on his shoulder, shaking it off. “I know. The end goal is to just get her the hell out of there.” 

“The minute it gets too dangerous, we leave and wait for the police.” Futakuchi warns as Kuroo begins to stretch his arm muscles out, Iwaizumi pulling his denim sleeves up to his elbow, both serious as ever. Iwa nods once, walking ahead with trembling fists at how hard he was clenching them. 

“Ready to beat the shit out of some fuckers?” Kuroo lazily grins at the uptight Futakuchi, a dangerous glint in his eye as Futakuchi sighs, releasing the pressure in his chest. Kuroo smirks, knowing the lengths of how far Kenji would go for (y/n) than any other person. Even if he knew she would never see him the way he did her. 

Futakuchi and Kuroo both break into a jog to meet at Iwa’s side, fire on their heels. “Let’s do it.”

----

“Just how much is he paying you to watch me?” You blink at the scary-looking dude who was sitting criss-cross in front of you as you deal the cards, eyebrow quirked at the situation you were in. Kidnapped by your ex, playing go-fish with a gangster in the middle of an old classroom. Now, you’ve been in lots of weird shit before, but this?

This was new. 

“I’m not supposed to talk to you.” 

“Yet here you are, playing go-fish with me. Got any eights?” 

“...Go fish.” 

You roll your eyes slightly, surprised at the calmness in your chest at what was happening. It had been two days. Two days of staying in the same old classroom, and you’re shitty ex had only shown himself to you twice. The first time you spat at him, refusing to accept anything from him in fear that he was trying to drug you. You cried your eyes out the first night of sleeping on cold concrete, ankle chained to the wall. 

The second time he introduced you to your new “bodyguard” who was meant to keep you “safe”. By the second day, you had somehow managed to rope him in to playing a game of cards after a few hesitant conversations. You had learned about why he was the way he was and why he did what he did. Sure, you empathized with him a little. Mostly because he was no Toby. 

“I don’t agree with this, you know.” Puffy (as you named him) frowns. You remain silent, allowing him to speak his mind. “The boss told me to follow this kid. He paid enough money, apparently. It’s just to keep you here, but...it’s still not right. He seems a little sick in the head.” 

You scoff, about to reply in agreement until a new voice sounds throughout the room, sending chills down your spine and a lump into your throat. 

“Sick in the head? Is that any way to talk about your employer?” 

Puffy drops his cards, standing immediately as his scary eyes cast you a sorry stare. 

“Leave us.” 

Puffy hesitates, and walks out of the room as you refuse to tear your eyes away from the cards in your hand. Toby smirks, taking Puffy’s place in front of you as he begins to pick up the scattered cards. 

“Enjoying your time here?” 

You stay silent, pressing your lips tightly closed as your heart pounds in your chest. 

Fingers grip at your cheeks, forcing you to look up into the eyes of a monster. 

“I asked you a question.” 

----

“Ouch. That’s gonna leave a bruise.” 

Futakuchi glances worriedly over at Kuroo before kicking the thug who came at him in the stomach as he laid on his side on the floor, ignoring his groan of pain as he ensures he can’t get back up.   

Kuroo throws another thug by the shirt into the wall, wiping sweat from his brow as he glances at his best friend.  “Oh. Not me. Him.” 

The two boys share a freaked-out glance at how savagely Iwaizumi fought, taking down two of the four thugs all on his own. He ignores their stares, clicking his tongue as he slips his denim pullover off, leaving him in a black sleeveless shirt that exposed his arms as his free hand rubs at the cuts on his knuckles.

“Show-off.” Kuroo smirks as the three restart their jog farther into the school.  “They’re weaklings.” The air Iwaizumi gave off was dangerous and harsh, a promise of death in his eyes as each step he took was filled with a single purpose.

Saving you. 

----

“Yes, Toby, I am enjoying my time here.” A fake smile stretches its’ way onto your face, feeling soreness in your cheeks at how hard his thumb and forefinger were pressing into them. “I love being kidnapped by my psychopath ex that I was kind enough to take pity on.” 

Those weren’t the right words. 

He flings his wrist to the side, jutting your head to that direction as an unstable laugh slips his mouth. 

“You just never learn, do you?” 

“A real man doesn’t hit a woman.” You manage out, feeling the intensity in your ex rise. “But I guess in your case, that doesn’t matter. You monster.” 

“Monster? No, don’t get me wrong-I’m no monster.” 

You tremble as his fingers ghost under your chin, a sickingly-sweet tone seeping into his words. 

“I’m yours.” 

You clench your eyes shut when his face nears yours, fingers tilting your chin up. In a panic, you swing with your free arm, the slap echoing throughout the room as your fingers tremble at what you had just done. 

Toby freezes, head jutted out to the side. The laugh spills out of his throat, and the fear makes you shiver as his gaze falls on you maniacally. 

“So is this how you felt?” 

You shut your eyes, waiting for the impact as soon as he raises his arm. 

But it never came. 

----

“She’s in here.” 

The three blink suspiciously as the scariest-looking thug they’ve encountered motions to the door. Iwaizumi takes another step cautiously, dark eyes calculating. 

“Why would we believe that?” 

The sirens around the building begin to ring as Puffy laughs humorlessly. “I...shouldn’t live my life this way. She helped me realize that. Just...please. Save her.”

The three wasted no time, Futakuchi suspiciously accepting the key from the criminal as he begins to work the lock. Kuroo scratches the back of his neck awkwardly starting to make conversation with the criminal until a sound makes all their blood chill cold. 

A slap. 

And then Iwaizumi’s foot was inside the door. 

----

“Get the FUCK away from her if you know what’s good for you.” 

A relieved gasp makes its’ way out of your mouth as Iwaizumi’s face comes into view, black sleeveless shirt torn with a spill of blood out of the corner of his lips. But he still looked more goregous than ever as he threw the monster that haunted both your dreams and life against the wall in one solid swoop. 

Tears brim your eyes when Kuroo and Futakuchi rush up to you, looking roughed up themselves as your weak arms widen to allow both of them to hug you at once. 

“Y-You guys...” 

“Hey. You don’t have to say anything.” Futakuchi was gentle as he cupped your face, Kuroo’s arms tightening around you as he breathes out all the worry that had placed itself on his chest. 

“You’re safe. Thank God you’re safe.”

And then Kuroo was gone, running to pull Iwaizumi off a half-concious Toby. You see him spit out a tooth, crazy eyes glaring at you as Kuroo presses him up against the wall by the shirt. You rub your ankle as Iwaizumi undoes the chain with the key he had taken from Toby’s pocket. 

“You BITCH! You called all your other fuck-buddies didn’t you? I got someone to fuck with your phone, how-?!”  Kuroo hisses as his fist connects with Toby’s face, knocking him out like a light as Kuroo allows him to drop to the floor from his position up on the wall. Kuroo examines the cut on his knuckle, looking satisfied with himself.

“Man, I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.” 

Futakuchi rolls his eyes as he walks over to your ex’s unconcious body, hoisting him up with a groan. You don’t see the sadness in his eyes when Iwaizumi embraces you as he casts you a smile. 

“Hey. We’ll bring him down to the police. See you outside.” 

“I love you guys, you know that?” You say with emotion packed in your throat as Kuroo and Futakuchi leave the room with the unconcious body. Kuroo lets out a low whistle when they make it halfway down the hall. 

“You sure you’re okay with this?” 

“Yeah.” Futakuchi smiles slightly. “She looked happy.” 

----

“I...” 

“Don’t. Just...hold me.” 

Iwaizumi’s arms are gentle as you sob quietly into his neck, ignoring the terrible state you were in as his bruised hand runs through your tangled hair.

“T-Thank you...I’m so dumb, I didn’t know-” 

“Don’t speak.”

“W-what-?” 

So, in the middle of an abandoned classroom, with tear stained cheeks and bruised arms- Iwaizumi kissed you. A cut up hand resting on your cheek with the most softest touch he had used that day. You deepen the kiss for a second before pulling away, and he rests his forehead on yours, dark eyes staring into yours as your heart returns to a steady rhythm. 

“Iwa?”  “Hm?” 

“Can we try and go on another coffee run?” 

“Yes. Idiot.” Iwa’s busted lip forms a smile as your dry throat laughs a little bit, the room spinning around you as your body faces a round of fatigue from all the previous events. 

“Be here when I wake up?” 

“That’s a given.” 

And then the room stopped spinning as your body fell into a slump, eyes fluttering shut as Iwa’s half-smile is the last thing you see. 

----

It’s not over yet, folks! It will go back to standard social media AU in the next episode<33

taglist<3:  @krxstynnn @neologyro @fernthefangirl @imconfusedanditsok @wthyuta @angsty-microwave @svtbitch @hitoshi-s-stupid-bitch  @givesoup @the-pastel-badger  @soumynonasstuff @hot-emotional–mess  @shinsvu-talks @its-onepiece @giuliana-seraphinaxx @yuiicorn @zoppzoop @bridgehampton @i-would-die-for-this @adoring-obi-wan @thenextjennaration @jiyong-kwon-881808 @bubbleteaa @bobothecircusclown @kasandrafaye @teamnicedynabitch @verysadsimp @fait-de-fleurs​ @animefan7420​ @samanthaa-leanne​

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Family Drama.”

I did not sleep in today, and have written you a story.

Warning: there are a few mentions of drugs and addiction, but not a ton

He had never felt so defeated.

As the Taxi door opened, and he stepped out onto the quiet residential street he had to hold back his shame and kept his head high. What would his family think? Should he even tell them? Well of course he should, that wasn’t an option anymore. If he wanted to make them proud he was going to have to make himself ashamed for a little while. 

Waffles whimpered at his heels.

He looked down at her with a small smile, “Alright, alright, you’re right, I’ll shut up.”

He rubbed her ears and walked up the concrete stepping forward onto the grass as a group of kids whirred past on hover-skates. They turned upon seeing them, voices suddenly raised pointing and waving at him as they rolled past.

He raised a hand to wave back, but quickly turned to the front door.

There was no way he was ready to interact with people that weren’t his close family.

He walked up the step and held out his implant to the door, it would open when it knew it was him.

The lock clicked, and he reached forward ready to finally relax and let off some steam.

The door clicked open, and he was immediately assaulted by a wave of sound.

“ADDIE!” He was grabbed around the shoulders and pulled into a massive crushing hug. It took his brain way longer than it should have to figure out what was one person, but then again, there was only one person he knew who called him Addie…. Like a fucking dog.

“Uncle Ben?” he grunted 

The man set him down on the floor and slapped his back. Below him Waffle growled nervously, but she was ignored, “It's been YEARS. We had no idea you were coming.”

The sound of kids screaming reached his ears and a t least five of them came rushing into the hallway.

“Hey that’s not fair, I wanted to be a pony too!”

“But I was one first, you can pick something else.”

Uncle Ben turned, “Hey everyone! Guess whose back!” His legs swiveled uselessly under himself as he was dragged through the hallway and into the living room, where the entire extended family seemed to be crammed. 

He blinked as the group turned into an uproar upon seeing him.

“What is that on his face?”

“Did you really lose a leg?”

“It’s been so long?”

Aunt Marry got up, “Lost all your baby fat finally.” He winced as she grabbed him and pinched his cheek, which wasn’t really for pinching anymore, or honestly had never been, but when he had more of a baby face she had always done that.

“Tell us about space!”

He was shoved onto the couch with Jeremy on one side and Grandma Vir on the other.

Jeremy gave him a look.

He grimaced back as Waffles crawled under his feet resting her head on Jeremy’s shoe.

“Where is dad?” he muttered to Jeremy, and his older brother leaned in to whisper, “where do you think. Hiding in the garage while mom entertains.”

“Coward.” Adam replied with some amusement.

That was just like their dad to avoid all extended family, even his own.

“Wait, wait, everyone calm down, our little Addie is Commander of the UNSC. You all remember when he was just a little guy who used to believe in flying saucers.”

Adam crossed his arms over his chest. Uncle Ben had always made fun of him as a kid.

His grandma looked at him from across the room, “What is that on your face?” She repeated.

He sighed, “An eyepatch grandma.”

“Why are you wearing an eyepatch.”

“Because I lost my eye.” He sighed.

She put a hand to her chest just as his mother came walking into the room, a Trey in one hand an apron tied around her waist and her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She looked more than a little frazzled.

“Martha, why didn’t you tell us he lost an eye!” She sighed, “Because I didn’t want to worry you mom.”

“How is the army still allowing you to command a ship with a missing eye?” Uncle Andy wondered 

“He flipped up the eyepatch and the mechanical tech hopped to life nearly freaking out as it tried to track all the faces in one place all at once.

Gasps, “IS that a mechanical eye!”

“Yes.”

His other grandma put a hand over her face, “and he used to have such pretty green eyes. Now look at them, he looks like one of those cyborgs! Did you know some of those people intentionally cut off their limbs to look more like that.”

Martha sighed, “That’s not how it works mom.”

His Mother’s sister waved at him from across the room. He smiled back, he had always liked her, “I love your eyepatch, it looks cool.”

Her husband grinned, “Space pirate.” he nodded sagely.”

Adam tilted his head across the room where he found  David and Jordan squished against one wall sitting on the floor Jordan mostly sitting in David’s lap as they tried not to take up any space.

His brother grimaced at him, he grimaced back.

His mother's father leaned forward his steel grey hair and serious face set, “So tell me Adam, what are exactly your duties in the UNSC.”

The entire family rolled their eyes at once, some not even discreetly. He only got involved in conversation if he considered it “useful” and that meant all of the thing other people didn’t want to talk about, money, religion, politics, family history…… 

“Er, well Uh.”

“After commanding an entire fleet of ships you would think he’d be better at public speaking.” Uncle Trevor announced from where he was hidden behind the piano.

Adam frowned and cleared his throat, “I am fleet commander of fifteen UNSC deep space vessels for both exploration and military combat, but my primary directive is to foster good will with alien races , and save others from destruction, subjugation and slavery while expanding our knowledge of the universe through prolongued deep-space exploration.”

“Ohhhh his directive!” The rest of the family oooooed as well, but it was mostly sarcastic in nature.

His niece, Kimver walked into the room and crawled up to sit with him and Jeremy leaning against both of their arms as she played on her handheld. Kimber’s new obsession seemed to have shifted into vintage gaming. Glancing over her shoulder he could see her throwing tiny white and red balls and strange looking animals and a very pixelated screen.

“Have you met any sexy alien ladies.” Ben butted in

The rest of the family raised their eyes to the sky. Grandma looked almost offended.

“Ben would you stop with that.” His wife muttered from where she sat on a chair in the corner.

“What the whole LFIL thing is legal now, so he totally could have met some sexy alien babes.:

“It’s not a joke Ben, those people had a rough time of it the past few years.” David piped up from the other side of the room.

“Why the GA decided to legalize that behavior is a mystery to me. The world really is getting more wicked.” Grandpa muttered,

Adam clenched his fists, “Actually, Grandpa, I convinced them to lift the ban.”

The room went very quiet very suddenly.

Adam wished he had just shut his mouth.

“You what!”

“Look I spent a lot of time around LFIL members when I was securing the GA hall from protestors. I met a lot of them, and they are just good people who want to be left alone to do what they want. So yes, because of my position I was able to walk into the GA council chambers and convinced them to lift the ban.”

They stared at him.

“But what they are doing is wrong, it’s like bestiality.”

He felt his fists clench, “Grandpa if you ever met an alien you wouldn’t say that. They are sentient being that can consent, and if they can do that than it isn’t bestiality, and also stop calling my friends animals. My ship is staffed by some of the best alien crewmembers I know, and I wont have you comparing them to cattle or dogs or whatever else you want.”

The room went quiet.

Grandpa stepped out in a huff.

HE sighed and leaned his head back against the wall with an audible thud.

His mother walked over and handed him a stack of cookies with a smile on her face that said: Sorry about that.

He took the cookies greatfully shoving one completly into his mouth to avoid saying something else stupid. 

“So, does this mean you DID find a sexy alien girl.” Ben wondered and was immediately elbowed in the ribs from two sides  producing a grunt of surprise.

“So Jeremy, how long have you two been dating.” Adam looked over Jeremy’s bulk towards where a petite red haired woman with grey eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across her face was squished into the other side of the couch.” 

Sensing him looking, she waved a hand with a bright smile, and he waved back.

“Almost a year now.” Jeremy beamed putting his arm around her.

“Should we be expecting an announcement from you two soon?’ 

Everyone groaned, “Grandma!”

Jeremy’s girlfriend took it like a champ and continued to smile unaffected.

“Speaking of relationships.”

Dear god please descend from heaven and rapture him straight to hell, not that, that's how it worked but anywhere but here would have been great

“Adam, when are you finally going to settle down, how old are you now 25?”

He wondered if he prayed to satan hard enough he could summon a demon to swallow his soul whole.

“I know have you ever even dated anyone”

“Kissed anyone?” “Kissing is fun, you should definitely try it sometime.”

“You're grandmother definitely needs more grandkids.”

Oh the irony, the thought bitterly to himself.

At his feet the dog whimpered.

“You know there is this really pretty girl who works down at the corner store, I think she might do really good for you, a very down to earth girl. You could get promoted into a better paying desk job at the UNSC work 9-5 it would be a dream.”

Jeremy placed a hand on his shoulder, “Actually, Adam is more of an action guy, right Adam/”

Adam gave a weak smile, “Yeah.”

“Oh, he’ll grow out of that, besides you wouldn’t want to put a family under that kind of stress. It’s like you’re never home.”

“Space is my home.” He grumbled 

“Don’t be silly, humans weren’t meant for that sort of thing, besides your obsession was cute as a kid, but now that you’re older, you really need to start thinking about the future and having kids before you’re too old.”

He wanted to scream and bash his head against the wall.

“You know what though, how about that cute younger guy that works at the DMV, he looks about your age Adam.”

“I’m not interested in having a family right now!”

The room looked at him quietly, “You asexual or something?” Uncle Ben piped up awkwardly.

Adam felt his face go red, what kind of question was that? No, no uncle Ben I am not horny, or yes, yes uncle Ben I would love to find some hot person to plow just not right now.

And in front of the entire family?

Because he really wanted to have an extended discussion about his sex life with his entire extended family.

Waffles whimpered at his feet.

And then like an angel she descended from the sky to save him, either that or a billowing superhero cape like the saint she was. He couldn’t decide, angel or superhero, but decided on both.

Supermom, and part of her costume is angel wings and a halo.

“Adam why don’t you take waffles outside, she sounds a little nervous. Maybe take her out through the garage?”

He nodded and bolted to his feet like there were rockets firing from his ass, and hurried towards the door with the dog trailing at his heels.

Voices faded behind him, and he quickly hurried through the door and into the garage, where he found his dad sitting with Thomas on a set of lawn chairs drinking cold sodas and watching the clouds pass overhead.

They turned as they heard the door open.

“Adam! We didn’t know you were coming, pull up a chair.” 

He did so and unfolded it between the other two men sitting down as Thomas handed him a drink.

“They drive you off too?” Thomas grumbled 

Adam looked at his brother. Thomas was looking a little better than usual. His hair was only a little bit scruffy and his scraggly beard was at least trimmed. The tract marks in his arms had faded to pale scars on his arms.

“Yeah, uncle Ben asked about my love life in front of god and all his creatures. You?”

“Rehab. “

“I thought you were out of rehab.”

“I am, which is why I would rather not talk about it.”

“You doing good?”

“Yeah, got a stable job now, so that’s nice, go to meetings twice a week. One more month and I'll be six months sober.”

“Awesome, congrats.” He paused, “You know what, bet I could get you a job as a stuntman if you wanted.”

Thomas laughed, “Maybe I'll take you up on that. Once this job bores me to tears, which it will.”

“Did grandpa bring up LFIL.” Dad asked turning to look up at him

“You know he did.”

“He’s been meaning to ask you. He’s worried that spending so much time up in space has confused you.”

Adam snorted, “Don’t stargaze to long dad, the stars will make you extrial.”

“So that’s what dark matter is.” Thomas muttered and the three of them laughed. Waffles had climbed up on the chair with him and curled up on his legs to fall asleep.

“So what are you doing back here?” Dad wondered, “I thought you had just taken time off.”

He sighed, “Yeah… but things got complicated….” He paused, “Ever feel like no  matter what you try to do you keep failing at it.”

Thomas raised a hand “You mean my life.”

More laughter.

Then he got serious again, “Been so stressed lately that I can barely function as a person, has the UNSC questioning whether they should ground me or not. My friends set up an intervention, and it turns out that I am a raging control freak.”

“Could have told you that.”

“You got that from your mother.”

He glanced over at thomas, “What do you mean, could have guessed that?”

He shrugged, ���Come on Adam, did you ever do anything you weren't sure you could do properly. Like riding a bike, or swimming, or how you threw a fit if we moved literally anything in your room, or how you had to have everything arranged on your plate before you ate it, or….”

“Yeah yeah ok. But I’m a fighter pilot, that's kind of not-”

“Yeah that is the most control freak job ever. You have to be in so much control that traveling at more than three times the speed of sound won’t kill you. Imagine the amount of control you need to fly in formation without killing everyone.”

“Alright I get it.” He grumbled.

“So what, you try to do everything yourself?” dad grunted 

He turned to look at the older man, “how did you know?”

“Every school project you ever worked on in a group, but you just ended up doing the entire thing.”

“I thought that’s just because the other kids were lazy and weren’t going to do their jobs.”

“Or because you wouldn’t let them and they just gave up on trying.” Dad responded 

Adam sighed and sunk back against his chair, “I had no idea.”

“Welcome to personal growth, how may we kick you in the balls.”

He sighed, ‘I just, how can I be a leader without losing my identity and becoming boring and stuffy. How can I still… I don’t know, be happy and have fun when I have a job like this…. Or am I just not meant for it.”

Dad waved a hand, “You were born for it, but you need to remember that while, most of the time, you can be friends with the people you work with sometimes you need to stop being their friend and be their commander, which entails doing some things that aren’t so friendly. At the end of the day it is a ship, so you have to make them and allow them to do their jobs, fun comes later.”

“How am I supposed to reduce the stress?”

He glanced at thomas who shook his head, “If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t be a recovering heroin addict.” 

“You just have to find something you love doing, and then take a little time every day to do that thing which you love. Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.” 

He sighed and looked out at the deepening sky.

He really hoped so 

[conaionaru]

Woman’s game (Ivar the Boneless/Hvitserk)

Does that make me crazy

Synopsis: Skuld is alone with herself and reflects back on her past. Passes the time thinking about murder (as we all do) 

Warnings: insanity, slow descent into madness, toxic relationship, prisoner, flashbacks

Tags: 

@youbloodymadgenius​

Sometimes, time passed slowly; other times, Skuld felt like she had been inside the room for years. She floated above the feeling of consciousness, thinking about everything and nothing at once. She lived her life the best she could, enjoying men, women, money, and alcohol.

In her eyes, there was nothing wrong with her lifestyle. Mother always said to do who and what you love. Being someone's pretty little wife and housewife wasn't for her. She was to be worshipped like a queen and live the happiest life. With Ivar, she could have it all. He looked at her as if she hung the moon and ate out of the palm of her hand.

Give it time, and they would become the most powerful couple alive—Ivar's anger and mind, combined with Skuld's ability to manipulate and flatter. She felt the smile pulling at her lips when she imagined their future—the King and Queen of the World. "All Hail Queen Skuld Ylvasdottir. The most beautiful and powerful of them all." She giggled and brushed through her greasy birdnest of blonde hair.

The grime and dirt were sickening to her, her own waste not that far and no food or water in sight. If they wanted to starve her or were waiting for something, she had no idea. When she wasn't thinking about her future, she planned out Lagertha's downfall, how Skuld would kill her, if she would drag it out or not.

Death and murder were such easy things if you were surrounded by them your whole life. While her brothers were trained in the bolder approach of battle and war, Skuld was taught how to wage war in secrecy. Undermining people, whispering things into their ears, and making them believe it was their idea all along. Her mother taught her five brothers, and life taught Skuld.

The first time she killed, she was not even eleven. Balancing between childhood and womanhood, the girl ran around with the other children. Haldor ran after her like a loyal puppy, the pink-cheeked boy hacking at everything with his wooden sword, saying he will protect her from everything.

The truth was, Skuld didn't need protecting even then. She found out that if you glare at a boy long enough, they will get intimidated and leave. Pretend to be better than them, and their egos make them stutter and curse. Afterward, they are easy prey to ridicule and leave you alone. If not, just threaten them. Years later, the more persistent ones were disposed of during the black of the night and ruled off as an accident.

So at eleven, she ran around carefree, the other shrieking children playing ball. Skuld loved to throw the ball further than the kids could reach or with full force. The stunned face of the child that got hit was always fun, but the crying was annoying. So when the third child broke down crying and run off home, she stopped playing and looked around instead.

The faint chirping of a baby bird could be heard from her left, so she followed the sound till she found the culprit. A baby bird laid under the tree, its wing broken. The mother wouldn't come back for the birdie.

Skuld leaned down to the little thing and cradled it in her palms. It peered up at her, making wounded noises as she looked the wing over. The bone was out, and some feathers were gone. It would survive, but what was it worth if it can't fly. That all a bird is meant for.

It would slowly starve to death and die. What a cruel fate that would be. "Skuld, come on!!! I don't want to play alone." Haldor yelled at her exited, the ball in his hands. The girl's blue eyes watched the distressed animal in her hands. There was no way to help him. She can't just raise it till it dies of old age. 

"Skuld!" She could hear footsteps approaching and her mother's voice calling them for dinner. So Skuld tutted at the small bird in a soothing voice and closed it in her palms. The bird pecked at her soft hands, trying to get free. She tightened her hold and slowly squeezed the life out of it. "Skuld, come eat!"

When her mother found her and looked into her hands, she found the bird with its snapped neck. Her daughter looked at the animal with empty eyes. "Why did you do that?"

"Mercy. It would die anyway. Why let it suffer?"

Skuld chuckled at the memory and looked down at her arms; bloody scratches ran down her arms. She doesn't really remember giving them to herself. She recalls hugging herself from the cold and then the blood running down her arms. 

Maybe she was as broken as the bird she killed. Mercy, that's what she called it. Who would show her the same favor? Would they let her slowly lose her mind before she starved to death? Putting her out of her misery would be nicer. What did she ever do to deserve this treatment? She was a royal guest to Aslaug. What reason does Lagertha have to lock her up and slowly kill her?

Skuld was like a crippled bird trapped and doomed. She killed him, and he got a proper Viking burial. Would they do the same to her? 

"Don't you ever laugh as the hearse goes by,

For you may be the next to die." 

She giggled at the song that she heard when she was small. It was sung by some slave that was sacrificed in her father's honor. The old woman seemed at peace with death, so serene as they cut her throat. Would Skuld die the same way? Without putting up a fight when her body was too weak to save her? She doubted it, all the conflict in her way too stubborn to let go. Fuck them all; they won't take her dignity and sanity. She won't let them win. 

Revenge was something her mother despised. Maybe that's why Ragnar Lothbrok survived, or perhaps Ylva gained more than she lost. After all, an Earldom for a husband was a fair trade. Even if it left you with six children, you have to raise on your own. But no matter who wronged Ylva, she gave them a quick death and never mentioned it again. 

The faster it was over, the better. She would gather her warriors, wage war, and win the battle. Quick revenge, expected, but easily won. Skuld wasn't like that. When someone wronged her, no matter how dire, she would wait and then strike. 

When she was a child, not younger than ten, a boy made fun of her for not having a father. Carefully she made her plan and waited for her moment. Within the year it came. The next winter, the boy was an outcast, ridiculed for his destroyed reputation. 

Destroying a man's reputation was essentially harder than a woman's. Call her a whore, pay off a few people to say she did bad deeds, or was a witch, and she was done for. With men, it was more difficult. Loose morals were, for some reason, praised in boys and men. The more women he slept with, the better. But if he has no honor and no fighting skill, then he is shunned.

So she set him against Haldor, dressed as a commoner. The twelve-year-old boy believed he lost against a smaller thin farmer's child. Haldor had better training and thought the fight to be a game. A good excuse to be as dirty as he wanted. 

The other boy was laughed at, and when news came out to the young girls of Yugar, he couldn't charm any girl for years after. The other men and boys ridiculed him, and the rumors grew worse. Now he fights alongside Skuld's brothers in the shield wall. Sometimes she still wonders if he ever found out it was Haldor who beat him and not a farmer. 

Skuld's revenge on Lagertha would take time as well. She had all the time in the world to plan it. Undermining the bitch and killing off her shieldmaidens was a good start. Make her doubt her security and allies till she went grey from worry. Skuld giggled at the thought and hid her face in her hands.

The door to the hut opened, and the sun burned her eyes. She hissed at the bright light and shielded her eyes with her hand, till a figure did the job instead. Lagertha stood before her in a red gown, surrounded by her shieldmaidens. "Lady Skuld of Yugar. The little lion cub. I am sorry for the lack of hospitality. I had a lot to do."

"I am sure overtaking a kingdom is a lot of work. You could have spared yourself the responsibility and stayed Earl Ingstad." Skuld mussed with a shrug, looking up at the Queen from her spot on the ground. She shakily stood up and glared at the shieldmaiden.

"I took what was rightfully mine."

"And what do I have to do with it? I didn't take your kingdom or husband. All I did was fuck his son. Not yours, of course. I do have boundaries." Skuld chuckled and watched Torvi glare at her. What's her problem? I said I didn't fuck Bjorn. 

Lagertha smiled at her and signaled with her hand. Two shieldmaidens walked in, one holding a dress and another a tray with food and drink. Neither was fitting for someone of Skuld's status or hunger. "It is simply a precaution. Your mother may be on good grounds with Bjorn, but she hated Ragnar. I do not know how she stands with me. Keeping you safe is my priority now."

Skuld chuckled and stepped closer, the shieldmaidens moving to protect Lagertha. What do they think I would do? Throw shit? Now that's a thought she could save for desperate times. "Ah yes, and starving me in a dark room with no chamber pot or water is so nice of you. If you think this will help your relationship with my mother, you are an utter fool."

"You haven't been exactly compliant either. You killed my shieldmaidens. Two, to be exact." Astrid answered for Lagertha. Skuld scoffed and shifted on her feet to seem less threatening.

"I come from a line of warriors. So I tend to attack and kill those who try to kidnap me. Sorry." Skuld obviously meant the last word to be mocking as she wasn't sorry at all. 

"You were close to Aslaug and her sons. Keeping you secluded is the safest option, especially with you acting out. It is better for everybody. With your history." She sat down in her old spot and raised the cup of water to her cracked lips.

She looked at Lagertha with a raised eyebrow. "My history? Are you calling me a whore?"

"I am calling you a dangerous woman with love for violence and death. My actions didn't warm your heart to me either. So it is best to keep you in here till your mother returns."

"That could be months."

"So you better get used to your new home." Astrid mocked, causing Skuld to smirk and sip at the water. 

"I hope you will mention my actions to your mother. After all, I could have had you executed."

Skuld chuckled and leaned back against the wall. In a fast movement, she threw the cup at Lagertha. "Get out, you hateful bitch! I hope you rot in Hel for eternity!"

The Queen turned on her heel, offended, and left with some of her warriors. The door closing behind them. Skuld sat there for a while, breathing heavily. Astrid looked at the girl with soft eyes, frowning at the dirty state she was in. "If you do as you are told and reign your temper in, you will get out of here faster."

Skuld chuckled and looked at the female with disdain clear in her eyes. "Manipulating me into liking you isn't going to work, Astrid. It wouldn't work either. It isn't my mother, Lagertha fears. She fears me." Skuld hissed, leaning forward, spit flying out of her mouth as her blue eyes grew wild. She looked like a rabid animal about to pounce.

"Nonsense."

"I fucked Aslaug's favorite son; I won her favor and Ivar's interest. I got my claws into Kattegat's population, the very people that your precious Queen wants to rule over. If I willed it, I could make them overthrow her. Which is no intention of mine, but Lagertha can't be certain of that. So she locks me up, maybe to starve me till my mother returns. Until then, she will gather a big enough force to beat an Earl."

Astrid smirked at her deduction and turned on her heel to leave. "You would have never been a hostage if you just didn't sleep with Ivar. Lagertha would have never noticed you if you didn't strive so high." She laughed, and Skuld shared her amusement.

With a creepy smile on her dirty face, the Earl's daughter sung the verse that gave her hope. 

"Don't you ever laugh as the hearse goes by,

For you may be the next to die." 

Astrid frowned at the threat and left the room, closing Skuld in the darkness again. She sighed and looked up at the ceiling to calm her racing heart. "Since when had getting laid such a high price? I should have gone to bed instead." She groaned and collapsed back on the floor to catch some sleep.

[wwenhlimagines]

Tough Day, Fun Night

Finn Balor tries to help the reader relax after a hard day at work.

Warning: smut

Coming home from work, you shut the door and instantly fall onto the closest piece of furniture groaning as your face squishes into the cushion. You hear your husband's chuckle from behind and you glare up at him. "Sorry babe, bad day at work?" You nod and smile slightly as he picks you up before sitting himself down with you on his lap. "Well since it's Friday how about we let loose a little to help you relax?" "That sounds amazing." You mumble as you cuddle into his chest. "Okay then let's just watch some tv for a while first and then I will make you some dinner." "You're the best husband ever." You kiss him softly and he smiles into the kiss. "Well I have to make up for the times I'm on the road, so it's no big deal for my gorgeous wife." You blush just like you always have for the 5 years you have been with him. He turns the tv on to one of your favorite shows and you sigh happy to be in a place where you don't want to rip your hair out. You are finally back in your favorite place, your husband's arms.

About an hour later, Finn carefully moves you onto the couch as you have started to fall asleep. He then goes into the kitchen and makes your favorite dinner. Putting the food onto your plates, he realizes that he needs to find some wine as that always helps you calm down. When everything is ready, he brings it back into the living room and you wake up from the aroma of the food. You stretch your arms out quickly and then smile brightly as you see what he made. "Thank you so much babe, this means so much to me." "Only the best for my princess." He winks and you kiss him quickly before you both dig into the food.

Finn pours the wine into your glasses and you moan as you feel the rush as it slides down your throat. He chuckles, "don't have too much fun yet babe!" "Oh hush, you know you like it." He smirks and playfully grabs your butt. You both finish eating while teasing each other every few minutes with kisses in between. You eat the last piece of food and Finn takes your plates into the kitchen to rinse them off. While he is gone you decide to pour more wine into your glasses. "Well I guess it's time to drink then!" He says as he sees the glasses when he walks in and sits down next to you.

You turned the tv to Keeping Up with the Kardashians and Finn groaned. "Hey let's make a drinking game out of it!" "Sure so when do we drink?" "Hmm...Every time Khloe says something about Tristin 1 sip, when Kourtney complains about something 1 drink, and when Kris yells at any of them a big gulp." "Deal!" You both watch as they start fighting and Kris barges in yelling, drink. Then Kourtney complains about Khloe being unprofessional, drink. The game goes on until you are out of wine and you sigh, "what else do we have?" "We have some vodka?" "Okay vodka it is!"

A few hours later, you two are completely drunk and laughing at everything until your hand "accidentally" lands on his crotch. You think nothing of it until you feel his excitement growing. "Ooo...someone's a little excited." You wink and Finn smirks back bringing his face within inches of yours. "We both know there is nothing little about him." You bite your lip as his heads swoops down to start trailing kisses down your neck. You reach for the hem of his shirt and pull it off before admiring his strong chest and abs. He pulls your top off and you automatically reach for his sweats playing with the band of his boxers before pulling his pants off. He unbottons your pants and pushes them down as he lays on top of you kissing your lips roughly as your fingers tangle into his hair. "Mmm, babe you know my weakness." "Of course I've got to keep my man happy." You wink and he slips his hands under your back unhooking your bra quickly. He starts kissing down your neck then traveling further down, he massages your breasts quickly  before continuing his journey to his favorite place. You grip onto the back of the couch bracing yourself for his attack on your heat. He pulls down your panties but keeps his head at your heat making sure to breathe on it to tease you.

Finn smirks up to you as you bite your lip waiting. He sticks his tongue out and licks all the way up to circle around your clit causing you to moan and tighten your grip on the couch. His tongue dives in and out as you try to keep your moans as quiet as possible. Finn murmurs against you, "We bought a house far enough away from the other houses so that you can scream as loud as you want babe. Don't let our money go to waste, lass." You relax your grip long enough to move your hands back into his hair as he finds your g-spot making you throw your head back moaning. You feel yourself getting closer and apparently Finn did too because he pulled away licking his lips. "You're delicious babe, here have a taste." He roughly kisses you, squirming his tongue into your mouth so you can taste yourself making you both moan. He rips his boxers off and then thrusts right into you making you hiss from the quick pain of his size inside of you. He slowly starts thrusting and the pain turns to pleasure as your moans get louder. Since you were already on edge, he leaned down and whispered in your ear, "don't you dare cum before I tell you to babe." You nod and start scratching your nails across his collarbone and down his chest. His thrusts speed up and you grab his ass making him go even faster. "Okay babe cum on 3. 1, 2, 3!!!" You both cum with strings of cuss words flying out your mouths and uncontrollable moans. Once you have ridden out your highs, he rolls off of you and pants. When you catch your breath, you sit up as does he. "Bed?" He nods and you pick up your clothes before walking upstairs to your bedroom and soon enough falling asleep in each other's arms.

2 months later

You had recently been feeling sick and didn't understand why until you realized that you had missed your period the last 2 months. "Oh shit, am I pregnant?" You thought to yourself as you threw up for the 3rd morning in a row. Finn had been leaving early every day to get to the gym, so he rarely saw you get sick. You knew he wanted kids but you never discussed when, so you decided not to let him know until it was confirmed just in case it was a false alarm. Getting ready for the day, you decided to call in sick to work and ran up to the local store getting a pregnancy test. When you got home, you took the test and then waited nervously for the timer to go off. Once it did your heart stopped momentarily as you looked down at the stick... pregnant. Of course, it was not official, so you decided to call the doctor's office and got in at the very end of the day. You found the card you had gotten for Finn's birthday, which is in 3 days, and took it with you to the doctor's office. Keeping secrets from Finn was nearly impossible, so you were just going to give him the card early if you really are pregnant. You get called back to the exam rooms and you explain to the nurse the reason for your visit. "No problem Mrs. Balor the doctor will be right with you." You suddenly get super nervous and take deep breaths to calm yourself down. The doctor walks in and he tells you what you have to do so 15 minutes later he comes back with the results. "Well congratulations Mrs. Balor you are pregnant!" You smile and thank him as you leave the doctor's office. Once you get in the car, you open his card and sign the card, "Love Y/N and baby Balor." You smile and drive home quickly to find Finn already home. When you walk in he runs and hugs you, "Baby, you had me worried sick! Why didn't you answer your phone?" "I'm sorry Finn, I was just out getting something for you." You hand him the card and he looks quizzically at you. "My birthday isn't for 3 more days." "Just open it babe." You try to keep a smile on your face while on the inside you are super nervous for his reaction as he reads the card aloud. "Happy birthday! Love Y/N and baby Balor. Wait...what? Baby Balor?" He looks up at you with hopeful eyes and you nod smiling. "Oh my god, this is amazing babe! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" He kisses all over your face making you giggle and then he gets down to your belly and lifts your shirt kissing it. "Hi baby Balor! I'm your daddy and I'm going to love you so much! You are going to be so loved by Mommy and your uncles AJ, Luke, and Karl. We are going to spoil you so much." You smile down as your excited husband goes on and on talking to the baby. When he stands back up, he places his forehead against yours sighing, "Perfect." "What's perfect?" You look up at him confused. "Everything, my life is absolutely perfect. I have my dream job, dream house, dream wife, and now we are going to have a beautiful child. Thank you so much Y/N." You wipe the tears from under his eyes and smile. "No Finn, thank you for making me the happiest woman in the world even though I may not seem like it during the pregnancy." You both laugh and he grabs your hands kissing them. "I'm ready for whatever mood swings you may throw my way Mrs. Balor. I love you so much." "I love you too Mr. Balor now how about we go cuddle?" "I thought you'd never ask."

[gallavictorious]

”You going out? I thought you weren't working tonight.”

Mickey looks up from his tie to see Ian leaning against the doorframe, in uniform and with his hair neatly slicked back.

”Nah, it isn't work. Well, not exactly,” he says, finishing the knot and taking a step back to admire the result in the mirror. He's getting pretty good at this. Lots of practice in the last few months, ever since he took the bodyguard gig officially on the road. Clients like it when he wears a tie. ”You know the chick I've been babysitting for the past few weeks, the one whose stalker I caught trying to climb in through the fucking window? She and her dad's taking me to some fancy place, uh... Piccolo something, to thank me. Since you're working the late shift, I thought – ”

Ian interrupts, straightening: ”Piccolo Sogno? Like, that really romantic place down in West Town? You telling me the girl who has a crush on you is taking you there?” He pauses, looking at Mickey with a cross between disbelief and bemusement. ”Are you going on a fucking date?”

Mickey stares at him. ”What the hell are you talking about?” he demands. Crush? Date? What?

---

The chick's name is Charlotte Eckerton.

He was supposed to call her Ms. Eckerton, she insisted he say Charlie, and what he actually went with was usually some classic television reference that she didn't get, or – when she's was being particularly annoying – ”hey, brat”. She was probably no worse than any other spoiled little North Side princess, but Mickey sure as hell didn't get why anyone, no matter how loony, would want to stalk her, because literally all she did was go to class, study, shop, and party with her equally irritating friends. Oh, and endlessly updating her Instagram stories with every last detail about her fascinating life, of course. He put a quick stop to that, because continually announcing your location to the public when a deranged psycho was stalking you was... well, let's face it, it was about as stupid as he expected from these people.

She threw a tantrum when he swapped her phone for one with restricted access to social media apps, and she tried to give him the slip at least twice a day for the first four days, going as far as paying some other goons to attack him while she made a run for it. She was not completely stupid, he had to give her that, and he was beginning to understand why her father had come to him rather than hire a more well-established firm. The girl was a complete nuisance, and occasionally quite clever about it. Clearly needed someone wise to all the tricks, and unafraid to rein her in and tell her in no uncertain terms when she was being an idiot.

Mr. Eckerton was loaded, having made his fortune doing some IT-shit or other, and for the kind of money he was offering, Mickey was prepared to put up with a quite a lot of hare-brained shenanigans, as well as hanging out at the Magnificent Mile afternoon after afternoon, and listening to the brat's endless babble about... hair? Make-up? Bands? Whatever. He didn't really pay attention; he'd have needed to be paid hell of a lot more than he was to do that.

After a week or so of thwarted escape attempts Charlotte had exchanged overt defiance for a more subtle approach, trying to throw him off his game by suddenly gifting him stuff, like a dark gray shirt ”that goes really well with your eyes”. He took the shirt, because it was pretty nice, as was the watch and the stupidly expensive hair-product she produced in the following days. He was a little insulted she thought he could be bought so easily, though; she'd have needed to double her father's money, at the very least – or gotten him a nice car. He had said as much to Ian, who had eyed the gifts with an unreadable expression on his face, and had failed to comment.

When bribery too proved a failed tactic she started asking a lot of personal question instead, fishing for weaknesses to exploit. Her strategy was pitifully obvious, however, and Mickey gave her nothing but monosyllabic responses. Finally, she resigned herself to being stuck with him for the time being, and mercifully stopped pestering him about letting her go to whatever concert or party was happening that night. She still dressed up and put on elaborate make-up every damned evening, though, even if it was just the two of them chilling at her place, but he supposed it was something for her to do. Fuck knew he could sympathize with the boredom of being locked up.  

So that was Charlotte, spoiled and stubborn and maybe a little bit clever underneath it all. Not the worst person he could imagine babysitting, not by a long shot, but not one he'd think back on either, now that the job was done. He probably wouldn't even have accepted her and her father's invitation to take him out for a meal, if it hadn't been for Ian's occasional insistence that he needed to be ”nicer to his clients” and ”cultivate professional contacts”. This only made his husband's reaction to the whole situation all the more annoying –

”It is not a date,” Mickey says flatly, irritation coloring his voice, because Ian is smiling at him in all too knowing way. ”I probably saved her fucking life, she wants to buy me dinner. That doesn't make this a – Listen, her fucking father is going to be there.”

”Yeah, sure he will.” Ian crosses his arms, still smirking like an asshole, but there's just a hint of an edge to the smile now. ”Does she even know you're gay?”

Mickey rolls his eyes. ”Of course she fucking knows, because I open every damned conversation with 'Hi, I'm Mickey and I love cocks' like a normal fucking faggot. Jesus. It hasn't come up. She knows I'm married.”

”Like that's gonna – ”

They're interrupted by the door to Liam's room opening, the boy stepping out to give them his very best judgemental look. ”Why are you yelling? I need to study.”

”Oh, it's nothing,” Ian says casually. ”Just Mickey having a date tonight. With a teenage girl.”

”She’s nineteen, and I am not – !”

Liam frowns. ”Is this like when he was fake-dating Byron to make you jealous? Are you going to go on a fake date too? With a girl?”  He pauses, frown deepening: ””Is there a Grindr for straight people?”

Ian's spared a reply as Lip comes up the stairs with Freddie in his arms. He pauses on the top step, brow furrowing as he takes in the scene: Mickey, dressed to the nines and with a scowl to match, Ian smiling with his arms crossed, and Liam wearing his trademark look, the one that says that everyone else is a bit of an idiot. ”What's going on here?”

”Mickey's going on a date with a woman.” Liam offers it readily, a true believer in the free dissemination of information. Probably something he picked up at private school.

Mickey gives a half-choked groan. ”It's not a – ! You know what, fuck you.” With one last glare and an extended middle finger, Mickey grabs his jacket and storms off.

Ian, Liam and Lip watch him go, nonplussed. Lip glances at Ian: ”Huh. Less than a year of marriage and you've already turned him off men.”

”Yeah, well. Have to admit I didn't see that one coming.”

---

The restaurant is fancy as hell, linen cloth and candlelight, one person to take his coat and another to show him to the table. Charlotte is already there, blonde hair pulled back in a strict ponytail, something expensive glittering around her neck and drawing attention to the generious helping of skin her lowcut black dress offers.

The table is set only for two. Mickey frowns as he takes his seat. ”Your father coming?”

”No.” The smile she gives him is very innocent. ”He got held up in a meeting, so he called to say he can't make it. He said to tell you sorry, and to thank you so much for your service.”

Listen to those alarm bells going off all at once... Mickey tries to mentally shake it off. It's nothing to worry about. Just Ian putting weird ideas into his head. ”Uh, yeah. Don't worry about it. Just doing my job.” He waves for the waiter to bring him a beer. He does need a drink, quite urgently.

Charlotte leans forward, looking up at him from under half-closed lids with a very intense expression on her perfectly moisturized face. ”You were so brave when Smithson attacked me. I don't know how I can ever thank you enough. You know, my father is paying for this meal, but if there was something else you wanted... ?”

And that's her grabbing the olive from her drink and very deliberately pushing it past her lips and that's... that's her foot, sans shoe, slowly sliding down his calf.

Oh. Fuck. This is a date. Inwardly groaning, Mickey rubs a tired hand over his face, before looking straight at Charlotte: ”You know I'm fucking gay, right? Like, married to a man?”  Jesus, Ian is never going to let him hear the end of this...

Charlotte reels back just a little, mouth falling slightly open. He's prepared for shock, disgust even – but instead a dreamy look appears on her face. ”Oh my god, that is sooo hot!”

What?

---

He feigns sleep when Ian returns home a quarter past midnight, but his husband isn't fooled. ”How was your date?” he murmurs as he slips in under the covers and wraps his arms around Mickey from behind.

”Shut the fuck up.”

A quiet laugh, a kiss pressed to his shoulder. ”I take it you're sticking with cocks for now then.”

And sure, there's a teasing edge to the words, and sure, he'll hear about this for-fucking-ever, but... Mickey turns around, facing Ian. ”I guess I am,” he agrees, reaching up to run his thumb over Ian's cheek.

Whatever mischief is there fades from Ian's eyes, from his voice: ”I'm glad,” he says simply, and pulls Mickey in for a kiss.

Yeah. So is he.

---

This one goes out to @starkcravingmad​  who suggested a teenage charge crushing on a clueless Mickey, in a reply to this post. I know you didn't ask me to write it, and I have no idea if this is even vaguely related to what you had in mind, but for better or worse you planted the seed, and here we are. Didn't intend for it to get this long, or this silly, but yeah.

[mybiasisexo]

Ring the Alarm

Genre: Angst | Marriage!au

Pairing: Lay x Reader

Length: 4.4k

Warning: Language | Adult Themes | Infidelity 

Summary: Nobody said marriage was easy--and your marriage with Zhang Yixing is proving that. When you find out about his indiscretions, you have two options--leaving him is easy, but can you leave the life you both made together? Based off the song Ring the Alarm by Beyoncé

Author’s Note: This one... This one is definitely a WIP. Something I’ve discarded but will be coming back to and finishing. I love this plot, but I know a lot of people aren’t going to agree the the ending I have in mind. Listen to the song, okay? That’s what I’m basing it off of *shrugs*. Also, I drew heavy inspiration from the movie Girl’s Trip,

MASTERLIST

credit

Marriage was never easy. It took commitment, honesty, trust, and a lot of sacrifice. 

You were always aware of this.

Once you reached the age to truly understand, you watched the weight of marriage burden your mother and your mother’s mother. Understood that the title, Wife, was a job, an occupation that carried on all of your life.

Yet, that never stopped you from saying yes.

Never stopped you from allowing that magnificently shiny ring to slide upon the third finger on your left hand, shimmering with the promise of forever.

Maybe, you assumed it would be different—your marriage. Maybe you were too young and naïve, believing that your love was stronger than those before you. That your love was based on something so magical it could withstand all of life’s trails and tribulations.

You were wrong, of course. But at the time, it hadn’t seemed so bad; especially when it was Zhang Yixing you were promising to share your life with.

Zhang Yixing was a rising mogul. He had started his own music label and it had blown up, skyrocketing the pair of you into high-class fame.

Through out it all, you had been by his side. From the time he was making beats in his basement, to the moment he won his first award.

You were the one who provided a roof over his head when he was solely focused on the music. The one who supported him financially when he didn’t have a dime to his name. The one who provided words of strength and courage when he was losing faith in himself. It was you who singlehandedly carried him to the top, allowing him to wear the crown as long as you were able to be by his side.

Because that was what love was.

But love was quickly overshadowed by greed. You both became too preoccupied scrambling to the top of the totem pole to remember why you had began climbing in the first place. The contracts you both signed with love soon became a business contract, you two only partners professionally.

Money had a certain power that overtook everything, and money was something that Yixing had a lot of—that the both of you had a lot of.

That’s no excuse though. No valuable reason for your husband of nearly six years to be cheating on you.

~*~

Once a week, you meet you with your closest friends, Seulgi and Irene, for lunch. Today you decide to eat at an upscale restaurant in downtown. You have known the two since high school and they have been your biggest supporters in life.

“How have you been?” Seulgi asks after you all have ordered, stretching her hand across the table to place it over your own, giving it a comforting squeeze. You smile softly at her, knowing full and well that she has caught on to the fact you’ve been hiding something that’s troubling you. She has always been extremely sensitive to other’s emotions, allowing her to read anyone like a book. It is what makes her such an amazing psychologist.

She also knows not to pry. A major rule of yours is that your marriage—like all marriages should be—is between your husband and yourself. You refuse to share the nitty gritty details of your relationship, even to your best friends.

“Surviving,” you reply simply, taking a sip of your hot tea. 

The answer is telling. Both women share a quick concerned glance. Before they can inquire further, the food arrives and conversation is shifted to lighter subjects: updates in your lives since the last get together.

About halfway into the meal, Irene receives a message on her phone. She glances down distractedly before doing a double take, her eyes widening from shock as she stares at her screen.

“What is it?” Seulgi asks curiously. You find yourself leaning forward in an attempt to catch a glimpse at what shook her, but she swiftly snatches the device so that only she can view the screen. Her eyes flicker over to you and an odd sense of foreboding dread causes your stomach to drop.

“I just got some pap pics….” She starts slowly, eyes drifting back to you warningly. “Brace yourself.”

“Why would I have to…?” She hands you the phone and you blink a few times, not fully comprehending what you’re being shown. Squinting, you enlarge the image, zooming in to clarify that the man in the picture is indeed your husband.

Making out with another woman.

There’s four pictures in total. The two are apparently at some club. The woman—who’s back is conveniently facing the camera—is sitting on Yixing’s lap. His hands get lower and lower with each picture until they land solidly on her ass.

You sit the phone down and close your eyes, breathing through your nose as you rub your temples in frustration.

Careless. Selfish.

“I…am so sorry,” Seulgi murmurs. Tears can be heard in her voice, your pain being felt by her.

Irene is a bit different though.

“So, what are you going to do?”

Irene is the hard ass. The realist. She doesn’t believe in playing games, always cutting through the bullshit to get right to the point.

She would have made an amazing lawyer.

But instead, she gave her talent to a gossip magazine. It pays just as well with less the paper work and she is brilliant at it. Irene is always on top of the newest celebrity drama. She has a wide variety of connections—yourself being one of them—and isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty to uncover the truth. She is so good at her job that sometimes celebrities willingly give her information, because having an article written about you from her is how you know you made it in this cutthroat industry. 

That is how she got the pictures. She has personal paparazzi that do most of the digging for her. Yixing is one of the most famous Chinese men in South Korea, so it makes sense to you that if they had spotted him doing something sketchy—because the world is aware of your marriage—they would capture it and send the proof to their boss immediately. 

Sighing, you lean back against your chair, staring out the window that reveals a beautiful sunny day, a day too lovely to have to deal with this bullshit.

“I can’t believe he would do this to you,” Irene rages on, fury spilling out of her. She has the most disdain for Yixing. Ever since you first met him, she was always telling you how he was bad news, a no good low life that would only bring you down with him. 

At this moment, you wish you had listened to her.

“This is just horrible.” You play with your wedding ring as Seulgi continues. “After all you’ve done for him, he does this in return.” 

“You’re going to leave him, right? I mean, the man is cheating on you—”

“I KNOW!” You finally snap loudly, instantly shutting your friends up. In a much quieter tone, to not draw attention, you add, “I’ve known for a while.”

“You… already knew?” Seulgi clarifies. Realization dawns on her and she shakes her head in disbelief. “You already knew.”

“For how long?” Irene presses, her anger tripling and you’re glad that, at this moment, she is your friend, and not a journalist. She has to have realized that she stumbled across gold with these pictures. She holds enough evidence to ruin your martial image and make herself richer beyond her dreams. “How long has he been hurting you like this while you just allowed it to continue?”

“It’s not that simple,” you defend yourself quickly. “You know our entire career is based on our marriage….”

“Do you at least know who she is?” Seulgi asks.

“His secretary.” You sneer. “The cliché bastard is fucking his secretary.” Your hands tremble as a wave of emotions hit you like a tsunami. They come so rapidly, you can barely register them all: hatred, disdain, anger, embarrassment, betrayal—you don’t think you’ve ever felt so much at once.

“These pictures were taken by my people,” Irene begins quietly. “I just asked and they are positive they were the only ones there, but if I don’t do anything with them, they’ll sell them to another source who will. You know this.”

The severity of her words hit you full force, knocking the breath out of you.

She leans over the table, making sure to look you dead in your eyes. “I need to know. Do you still love him?”

Her question throws you off. Do you love Yixing? You assume there was once a time when you truly did. You gave up everything to be with him. Gave up your dreams to help him reach his own. Took his last name as your own, giving your life to him. No one does any of that without love being involved, blinding them from making any rational decisions.

But that was a long time ago.

You are in love with a different Zhang Yixing. One who fought for what he cared about, and cared deeply about a lot of things. Loved deeply.

The man you are tied to now is nothing more than a mere shadow of the one you fell in love with.

Knowing this, your stare remains fixed, unwavering as you answer truthfully. “No.”

She takes a deep breath, nodding to herself as she leans back. “I can stall, but not for too long. If you really don’t want to leave him, and I understand why, you at least have to talk to him. Let him know what his actions are about to unleash, because once this hits the press, you will know no peace. It’s going to get a lot tougher for you. You’ll have to fight harder than you ever have.”

It isn’t until Seulgi slides into the seat right beside you and rubs your face do you realize you’ve been silently crying. Your breath shudders as you inhale and give into being weak for a moment, sliding your arms around Seulgi’s waist and leaning into her in a tight embrace.

“Can you send those to me?” You ask Irene, who nods before doing as you request.

“What will you do now?” She asks after your phone lights up with her notification.

“Confront him,” you say without hesitation. This conversation is long overdue. “Let him know how much of a bastard he is.”

“Then…?” She presses, an eyebrow raised.

“Then I guess we’ll see.”

~*~

The car rolls to a stop in front of Zhang Studios and you sigh as you gaze up at the building. It isn’t an over the top skyscraper, but it stands strong of wealth. The concrete building hovering over you fills you with nostalgia. You both worked so damned hard to get this place and now he’s using it against you.

His office is on the top floor. It is made for a boss, what with it’s icy glass doors and floor to ceiling windows that overlook downtown. On his desk, beside his nameplate, sits a picture of you both from your honeymoon, smiles huge and eyes locked, still utterly drunk in love.

The look in your eyes in that picture is the complete opposite of what is churning in them now. Ignoring his secretary’s protests, you swing the door open in time to catch Yixing bid farewell to the three other men in lavish suits that are also in the room. It appears you entered at the end of a meeting.

One of the men is a friend: Kim Jongin, and as they all turn around to see who entered, he smiles dazzling at you. He approaches you, taking your hand and kissing it.

“it’s so nice to see you.” He greets.

“You too, Jongin. It’s been a while.”

“That it has, but I’m looking forward to your anniversary dinner. I’m sure it’ll live up to the expectations”

You internally wince at the reminder. A date you should look forward to, only fills you with dread.

“Have the Zhang’s ever disappointed?” You ask with a wink.

The rest of the men bow in farewell before heading out after Jongin. You make sure to lock the door behind them so that Miss. Becky can’t attempt to interrupt.

Slowly, you approach Yixing as he unbuttons his jacket and takes a seat. Your heels clack loudly against the tile floor, empowering you with every step.

“My dear,” he begins quietly and you nearly sneer at the pet name. “What brings you here unannounced?”

Without saying a word, you plop the manila folder holding his incriminating pictures on his desk before him. He raises an eyebrow questioningly before humoring you and pulling them out. His jaw tightens as he scans the images and you catch it. It’s only a second, if you hadn’t been studying him so hard you would have missed the shock that pinched his face.

After a moment of silence, he sighs, tossing the folder back on his desk in defeat. His eyes scan his luxurious office before finally meeting yours.

“I guess apologies are in order.”

“Save it,” you spit. Your arms tremble with the anger flowing through your veins and it takes everything in you not to get physical. “You careless bastard.”

“I deserve that,” he says quietly. “Where did you get those?”

You scoff. “Does that really matter right now? That’s you, my husband, making out with someone who sure as hell isn’t me, just days before our anniversary. You selfish asshole!”

Your words are biting. He rests his elbows on his desk, his head on his balled up hands. “What can I do to fix this?”

You walk up opposite him, placing your palms solidly on the desk as you loom over him with narrow eyes. “Get rid of her. I don’t care how. I want her gone.”

He groans your name in protest, sinking back into his chair.

Left flabbergasted by his response to your request, you straighten up. He takes you in with slightly wide eyes as you laugh bitterly. “You know what? Never mind.”

Turning on your heels, you make your way to the door before spinning around to face him again. “What are we doing, Yixing? Huh? We both know this sure as hell isn’t a marriage, but we agreed to at least be a partnership! Yet you can’t hold up your end of the bargain, let alone your pants! All you ever care about nowadays is your company and yourself!”

“Come on now, you know that’s not true.” Yixing rises from his chair and walks over to you, but each step he takes forward, you take one back until your back collides with the door. Cornered, Yixing reaches up to cup your shoulders, rubbing them soothingly. “Hey, look at me. I’m sorry, okay? You’re right. We agreed to at least be partners and I’ve failed you. I’ll get rid of Seungwan, all right?”

Hearing her name makes your heart pang. You glare at him. “You promise?”

“Consider it done.”

“There’s also the pictures….”

“We’ll discuss that later. But we have to be stronger than ever at the dinner. Be more of a team.”

“I’ve always been a team player, Yixing, you know that.”

His smile is sad. “All the same.”

Tired of arguing, you merely sigh, resting your head against the cold door while closing your eyes. “Thank you.”

Suddenly, Yixing’s warm breath can be felt against your neck. Eyes springing open to see him leaning closer to kiss you, whether it is your cheek or lips, you aren’t sure, blocking your vision. The thought of him touching you in any way makes bile crawl up your throat, so before he makes contact, you unlock and open the door in one swift motion, sliding out before he can touch you.

~*~

The anniversary dinner is four days later.

The last couple days are nerve racking. Having to make the final details to the party with those haunting pictures hanging over your head has you stressed to the point where you can’t eat. The leading cause of your stress—your husband—has been the polar opposite of you. His nonchalant behavior isn’t reassuring in the slightest, although he promised repeatedly that his mistress, Son Seungwan, had been let go and he had zero contact with her since. You want to believe him, at least the last part, but your trust is completely gone.

Unfortunately, you will have to put a little faith in him tonight. The party will be held at your shared mansion to show your solidarity. You are not just celebrating six years of marriage, but also the birth of your baby—Zhang Studios. Your home will be filled with important people, and their testimonies from tonight will help you once your story breaks out, which will be in a matter of time.

The day of is spent making sure everything is perfect, not a speck of dust is lingering in the air. Yixing is gone most of the day, taking care of some things at work. He trudges in around six, much to your dismay.

Guests start filing in around seven, greeted by the happy couple.

Irene and Seulgi arrive together and rip you away from your husband. You catch him frown as he watches you rush down the hall, he is just as much not a fan of the duo as they are of him.

You pull them into a deserted hallway for some privacy, hugging them briefly in greeting before getting to the point.

“Any updates?” You ask Irene.

“The pictures have been bought and will be released in the next couple days. The article, from what I’ve heard, will make Lay out to be a money hungry sex-crazed monster, painting you as a helpless victim. It’ll be perfect for whatever you decide. You leave him; you’re freeing yourself from a wicked man. Forgive him and you’re a saint.”

You’re pleased with either outcome of the situation, although it means you have only a couple days to decide what you want to do. Lay is Yixing’s celebrity name, the name the world knows him as. It is unlucky Lay is going to be ruined by Yixing’s careless actions.

“Alright. Thank you girls for coming. I need all the support I can get tonight.”

“I would say ‘happy anniversary’,” Seulgi begins. “But I don’t think you’re too happy right now.”

Her comment brings out a smile, albeit small, and she pulls you into a side hug, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “You look sexy as hell though.”

That draws out a genuine laugh.

You soon reunite with Yixing in time to welcome more people.

Once everyone has arrived, you all settle around the dining room table that is big enough to sit all of your close family, employers, and celebrity friends. Yixing and yourself placed at the center of one of the long sides, agreeing that the closer you are the more in love you’d appear. You try to maintain your warm façade, but you can feel it slipping with every conversation you find yourself getting dragged into. You consider yourself quite the actress, you’ve been pretending to be happy in a marriage for years now, yet you don’t know how long you can keep this up, what with Yixing’s hand practically glued to your knee, a hand that has been tainted by the other women he touched—who knows how many he has been with, though you have a feeling Seungwan wasn’t the only one. 

You push the thought out of your mind, instead focusing on the food that starts to be brought out from the kitchen. The smell draws out noises of delight from the guests and you’re relieved and proud of the response.

The atmosphere is pleasant as everyone dives in but it only takes a few minutes for everything to crash. Yixing suddenly begins coughing on his wine, startling everyone and gaining their attention. You pat his back in concern as he attempts to clear his throat, teary eyes narrowing on something ahead of himself.

Trepidation drips down the back of your neck as you follow his line of sight, zoning in on a beautiful girl in a soft red gown that hugs her comfortably. Her long wavy ashy brown hair cascades down her back from a low ponytail and her thin burgundy red lips lift smugly as she watches the way Yixing reacts to her presence.

Slowly, you drop your hand from the man beside you, letting it fall limply to your side as you glare at the woman who should not be here.

The nerve.

Yixing catches his bearings, but he can honestly choke for all you care. His shock at seeing his mistress consumes him to the point he doesn’t even register the attention he has garnered to the situation. The silence causes your ears to ring as Son Seungwan struts to the best of her abilities to one of the last empty chairs.

“Sorry I’m late,” she apologizes, not sounding sorry in the slightest. 

Trying your hardest to seem unaffected, you toss your napkin on the plate in front of you and lean over to your husband as you rise off your seat to stand. “Lay, a word.”

He follows silently, bowing towards your guests apologetically as he follows you to the closest room to get some privacy. Once inside, you scan it to realize you chose his home office, which is fitting, because you have business to handle.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” You ask as soon as the door shuts, spinning on him.

He sighs, running his fingers roughly through his hair. “I don’t know—”

“I told you to handle this!”

“I did—”

“Does her waltzing in here like she picked out the wallpaper in the dining room look handled, Yixing? Huh?”

“I don’t know why she is here! I didn’t invite her!” Yixing counters, voice rising to match your own.

“Well I sure as shit didn’t invite her!” You run up to him and lower your voice. “I want her out of my house. Now!”

He sighs again. “We can’t do that. Not without causing a scene. She’s obviously bitter about how things ended between us. This is probably payback.”

There’s a brief silence as you put together his words. Finally, you think of something. “If she’s not leaving now, we’ll just have to speed things along.”

His face pinches in confusion. “How?”

“By doing our speech! The one we need once we’re asked for statements. God, must I do all the thinking around here?”

With that, you shove him aside to get to the door, but he quickly blocks it with his body, causing you to nearly collide. His chest heaves as he spreads his arms out, leaving you with no exit.

Cornering you, he uses it to his advantage and in a small voice says, “you have every right to be angry at me. I’m sor—”

“Move,” you order through gritted teeth. A staring battle soon commences, him going all out, giving you those wounded puppy eyes that you’ve always fallen for time and time again. the longer he gazes at you the harder you begin to tremble from emotion. You are so close to breaking, so close to losing your sanity. Not being able to handle it for much longer, you whisper, “please.” 

It’s not the response he’s hoping to receive, but he knows that’s all he’s going to get. So, he throws you a small smile before opening the door for you.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you inform, hoping he can’t hear the tears in your voice. “I’ll meet you back there.”

You check him long enough to see him nod and turn down the opposite end of the hall, towards the bathroom. As you reach for the knob, it twists and the door opens on it’s own, revealing the one person you have no intention of interacting with.

Son Seungwan.

She appears just as taken aback as you, but catches herself quickly, throwing you a mocking smile.

“Quite the party you have here.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” you say politely.

“I never said that,” Seungwan clarifies, eyes wandering over the hall. Irritation pricks at you, but you restrain it as best as you can, all things considered. “What I am enjoying though is this home. It is so beautiful. I bet you spent millions on it.”

“Something like that,” you reply.

“Well, I’ll tell you, it’ll look even grander once I start my home renovating.”

“I beg your pardon?” Is this girl crazy?

She finally meets your gaze. “Oh, Lay didn’t tell you?”

“Just get to the point,” you sigh, truly exhausted by everything that’s happened in the past twenty minutes. Crossing your arms over your chest, you wait for her response.

“He promised me a lot of things, you know? Promised to whisk me away, promised that I was the only one in his heart, that he didn’t feel anything towards you anymore and that he was going to divorce you so that he could be with me.”

You raise an eyebrow at her statement. So maybe he liked this one a little more than you were giving him credit for. Unfortunately for her, you know your husband too well.

Leaning in a bit more you look her dead in her eyes. “Take this from somebody who has been with Lay a bit longer. He loves to make promises just so he can break them. That’s how he operates, Dear. He whispered all those sweet nothings in the midst of ecstasy because he had something to gain from it, but all those words were just that—nothing. And, ironically, so are you. But, by all means, keep telling yourself that Lay is in love with you, because if he truly were, he’d be with you now, instead of celebrating his marriage to another woman.”

You can see her eyes gloss over with tears. Your words sting, but she has to know. A feeling of pity hits you as she sniffs and quickly brushs a tear that slipped away. For a brief moment, you see yourself in her, understand exactly what she’s going through.

It vanishes when she snarls. “You’re wrong.”

“And you’re delusional.” You’re quick to snap back, patience gone entirely. 

“At least I’m not the only one.”

You crack a smile at that. “Oh, Honey. I am fully aware of the predicament I’m in. I know who Yixing is, and where we stand. But I’ll humor you, say he really did mean all those things.”

You lean in until your noses touch and whisper, “you’ll have to pry all of those things from my cold dead hands.”

You storm off, back to the dining room, joining a visibly uncomfortable Yixing. The relief is evident as you sit beside him

[sweet-xoxo-thatcares]

I took 3 painkillers today, and I still feel the burn from yesterday and earlier this morning from when I was listening to Reba.

Feels like a crow, who I thought meant restart, fresh new beginnings was gonna be my friend, my partner, cause she's seen death like me before.

But no, love.

Her brutal past steals creeps up on her and she was looking for somebody still dead.

I'm alive, but sometimes my legs don't wanna get out of bed and live. And not even a mere country song can help me get out of bed and face seeing my grandmother if I was to go back to her hometown today. Seeing her makes me shake, my shadows from the past, makes me weak. I wish I was dead, so I didn't have to feel any pain anymore.

Or want to feel a high, that causes me pain and grief later. I worry I might take the last shipment of morphine they gave my grandmother right before she passed and take a droplet of it myself.

Knowing that death could happen if I went too close. Over the edge. Over the bottom of what they recommended her to go to sleep. Numb her down, so she didn't have to feel anything as the cancer ate her alive. I've never been in pain like that and I never want to fall in love again.

If it makes me this mad, this angry, this crazy, this selfish, this careless, this delusional person who believes every single thing, big or small, that that person says to me while they try to use me for sex, have their way with telling me how I should spend my life, my time, throw away my hard earned money for them to survive off of me and I should take them away from their struggles and treat them like a grown woman who lives like a child. Doesn't wanna clean up after themselves, doesn't want kids, doesn't have a job, doesn't want a job, wants to just be a stay at home bitch, who gets to sleep all day, play video games and not do shit. take your selfish ass someplace else cause i will not mourn over someone who isn't worthy. But worries me because you remind me wayyyyy tooo much of how my ex still sounded as she talked to me about how it was to be traumatized and wanted someone to take take care of them like a mom. I'm not your mom and I'm not your dad. I wouldn't dare hurt another child physically or emotionally or even mentally cause I TOLD YOU I KNOW HOW THAT FEEEEELLLLSSSS

WHY WOULD I DO THE SAME THING TO YOU THAT I TOLD YOU THAT I WAS SCARED ABOUT YOU DOING TO ME.

YOU NEGLECTED ME WITHOUT EVER TRUSTING THAT I WOULD NEVER HURT YOU THE SAME WAY YOUR FAMILY HAD DONE YOU WRONG

AND I DIDN'T TRUST THAT YOU WOULD BE ABLE TO TAKE CARE OF ME THE SAME WAY I USED TO LAY DOWN IN JAY'S LAP.

But I never wanted you to push me off the way that she did. But you did it anyway.

You hurt me by pushing me away the exact same way that she did to me and it broke me.

You hit me right in the same spot. I never expected you to do that. Cause you were wayyy nicer to me. We talked all day together and you even stayed on the phone with me during video chat all night, even as we fell asleep. I've never been so happy to have seen such dedication to be so emotionally intimate with someone and I was even reconsidering pushing my 1 yr of dating requirement before moving in, to maybe a month or 6 days. Cause I wondered, was I tripping because I was gay or am I the person doing something wrong I know I should rethink about

Cause you was like riding a motorcycle. Your head wasn't all the way straight or safe to say, but you sure as hell felt safe enough to leave my stuff with at home for a while. I don't know why it happened like that so easily but it was cause your door was open. And you were emotionally available without any catches. I didn't have to suck your dick. I didn't know if you had q gun or still did drugs, you told me everything straight up. You even asked all my questions when I was sure that yo ass was scamming me because there's no way in hell somebody would leave their home to come live with me and stay my girlfriend and not just stay, but cook for me sometimes, take care of me if I was emotionally distraught from work, you were here and that's what made it great. I talk to you whenever and not be judged for asking you hey hru or feel isolated like Jay made me feel because they always made me feel bad by being rude, mean, nasty disrespectful just for asking them "hey hru" when they were at work. And Mike was silly, when I mentioned going to some beach park that we could go to, he said you know I'm not gonna have as much free time, so I'm gonna be busy alot more." Like he was basically trying to let me down with a no, like damn I can't plan a day trip for us to go to one weekend? And you're so called on date 2 and you wanna date me seriously?

I hate that I miss Athena. But I miss the titanic saving me. I miss all the free time, texting, talking, and calling. The movie nights, the bdsm, the sex, the rough play, the birthday sex. The part where we say I love you and we have beautiful romantic sex together cause I never got it yet even as a virgin and with my 1st actual boyfriend or my actual 1st girlfriend, but 2nd relationship.

Nobody's

Nobody 's Giving Me real love, real show of effort, real time, quality time, and I'm sick of crying over low effort bitches who act like they can't afford to care about the person their planning to fall in love with and invest their time into long term. I'm tired of fake bitches who give me what I ask for and look for, really having Me attach to them. Then leave me hanging.

Like that bitch basically ghosted me and I can't stand to understand why was it so easy for me to fall for it and invest my heart into her just so I could come back down to reality for my head to say "I told you so"

Ughhh fuck my life. And fuck you Jay,Ayunna, Athena Charles, Terrell, Tatyana, and Mike.

I hate you all.

Thanks for making me nuts. Thanks for making me numb, love bombing me, and leaving me dry.

[ace-in-a-shopping-cart]

Soul of the Kingdom

First part

Summary: Roman and Janus journey back and reclaim the kingdom from Remus.

Word Count: 2,729

Roceit can be read as platonic or romantic

Taglist: (Send an ask to be added or removed!) @starlocked01​​ @spoopy-turtle​​ @lizluvscupcakes​ @far-too-many-fandoms-to-die

Roman stood, buckling his sword around his waist. “Janus, I know we should be getting to the castle today but is it really necessary to wear the full armor?”

Janus chuckled. “Why, it not fitting the way it used to?”

“No.” Roman pouted. “I just don’t see the point in alerting Remus to our arrival earlier than necessary.”

Janus moved around the rightful king, making sure everything fit right. “Half empty, half full doesn’t really matter. It’s a liquid, just drink it.” He muttered.

“What was that?”

“I said to count your blessings, kingling. Now, come on. We still have to get to the city by noon. If you are really that self-conscious about it, just put a cloak on.”

Roman did just that before they headed off. Just as Janus said, they arrived in the city by noon. Both had hoods up, Janus to hide his scales and Roman to hide his identity. As they walked through the streets, it was clear that the citizens were suffering. Clothing was threadbare, children were still and stared blankly instead of running amok in the streets. Beggars were on every street corner in a way Roman had never seen before. He had a hard time keeping his features schooled beneath the hood.

They approached a vendor and Roman went to pay the normal amount for the bread and cheese being provided. The woman almost cried. “It’s been a few years since I’ve seen that much money in one place, sir. You had best keep that purse well hidden or the street urchins might come after you.”

Roman smiled even as he pressed another coin into her hand. “Thank you for the sage advice. If I might trouble you for a bit more of your time, what happened here? A decade ago this was a flourishing kingdom. Now, it seems to barely be standing. Do you know of the events that lead to this?”

“You really don’t know what has happened?”

Roman shook his head, a sheepish smile crossing his face. “No, madam. I’m afraid I have been living under a literal rock for the past few years.”

She didn’t smile. “The firstborn son disappeared to fight a dragon. The ruling couple passed away upon hearing news of his death. Upon their death, the second son took the throne. King Remus has been ruling with an . . .” She leaned in conspiratorially. “An iron fist and then some. He squeezes the citizen dry of every coin they’ve got just to fund his lavish experiments. He keeps the population weak by forcing the men to serve a mandatory sentence in the fighting pits.” 

Roman nodded, sympathy beating in his heart for this woman. “I’m deeply sorry for what you have been put through. I will do everything in my power to make this right.”

Janus sighed from beside him. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Roman shook his head. “I will keep this one or I will die trying.” His voice was as hard as his sword, the determination bolstering it and giving it volume.

Janus nodded. “I do believe you might as well give up the sneak attack then.” He eyed a pair of guards that were coming their way.

Roman turned to follow Janus’ line of sight, moving to stand between the guards and the woman. Making a shooing motion with his hand behind him, he let the woman know it would be best for her to escape now. She took the advice and scurried away. The guards approached, faces masks of stone.

“Lower your hoods!” One said upon arriving.

Roman smirked and moved it just enough to mess with them without actually revealing his face. He cast his voice a few octaves lower than it already was, not wanting his voice to give him away. “What are your views on the current political climate?”

Janus elbowed him. “Ignore my friend, he was the village idiot.”

“Sure in a village of two.” Roman shot back.

The other guard held up her hand. “We serve the throne.”

Roman nodded, throwing his hood all the way off, blocking out Janus’ protests and claims of Roman’s idiocy. “Good. What if you were told I am the rightful heir to the throne.”

The first guard seemed taken aback as they blinked. “Do you have any proof of this?”

Roman sighed, hands going to his hips. “My face is literally identical to the current king’s. Is that proof enough?”

“Sorcery!” The female guard spat the word like it was a shard of glass in her mouth. “Tell us something only royalty would know.”

Roman sighed, hanging his head briefly before giving Janus a look that said can you believe these two. “Are you royalty?” They both shook their heads. “How can I prove something if you don’t even know the answer to that. I can answer it and it’s that the chandelier in the stairwell is very tempting to swing off no matter how old I get.”

The guards exchanged looks. “I mean, no random civilian normally sees that part of the castle so it makes sense.”

Janus sighed, leaning to mutter into Roman’s ear. “These two are idiots. Let’s just keep moving.”

Roman simply patted his arm and stood there, smile still on his face. It was almost ridiculous how easy it was to slip back into the polite mask of stone he hadn’t had to use for almost a decade. After another few minutes of deliberation, the guards reentered the conversation. “So, we have decided to trust you. How can we help, my liege?” They both bowed.

Roman nodded. “The first course of action would be to get into the castle. After that, we can try to turn the rest of the guard to me. With them, we can overthrow the tyrant who calls himself my brother.”

The guards nodded and began leading the way. “Well, that was easier than I thought it would be.” Janus said in a voice low enough that only Roman could hear it.

Roman laughed. “Justice always has a way of prevailing!”

They made their way into the castle easily enough. Soon, Roman realized a key thing but it was too late. Almost as soon as he realized that the guards were not, in fact, leading them toward the guard room or training ground, they were already arriving at the throne room.

Remus’ voice allowed them entry and Janus and Roman were delivered practically into his lap, much to his delight. Roman glared at the guards. “I thought you trusted me! I trusted you!”

Janus pinched his side. “You are not helping your case. Shut up and act your age.” He hissed into his ear.

Roman turned, unsheathing his sword as he ripped off his gauntlet, throwing it to the floor. The whole room went still as the gauntlet skittered across the ground before it came to rest at Remus’ feet. He snarled and looked down at it. “What is the meaning of this?”

Roman bared his teeth. “You know exactly what it is, brother.” He spat the word like a curse. “I challenge you to a fight to the death.”

Remus laughed. “You can’t be serious? You disappear to fight a dragon, have news of your death be brought back by the poor squire, kill our parents, and now you want to be back and take the throne like nothing happened? Come, now, Roman,” his name sounded sour coming from him, as if it had been too long since it had been said. “You honestly can’t be that naive?” He tilted his head as if the answer should be obvious.

Roman shook his head. “You have defiled the kingdom with your greed and hatred. I have had to come to stop you from continuing the destruction.”

Remus’ hands move down to his hips, one hand resting on the handle of his morning star. “We used to be so close, brother. Whatever happened to our bond?”

“You’re stalling for time. Either accept the challenge or turn it down like the coward you are.”

Remus snarled, goaded into snatching up the gauntlet. “Fine. But I get to pick the time and place.” He deliberated with the counselors around him for a minute. “The training yard. High noon tomorrow.”

Roman nodded. “I assume you are willing to house me and my companion for the night, correct?”

“Of course, brother.” His voice was as sickly sweet as honey. “I assume you still remember the way to your room? You will only be requiring one room, yes?”

Roman just nodded as he led Janus away, glaring at Remus over his shoulder until the door shut behind them. He found his room easily enough, having walked the same path for decades of his life. Janus let his cloak drop to the floor as soon as the door was closed behind them. “You could not have been more of an idiot today, Roman.”

Roman moved forward, cupping Janus’ cheeks in his hands. “I’ve finally found something to keep the fire inside me alive. If that means going to my death on some so called pointless venture then so be it.” He released the dragon witch as he spun around, hands gesturing at the room that was kept in the same condition he had left it in. “The only time I felt alive was on the battlefield or training ground before I met you. So,” He turned to Janus, hand held out, “Will you be my dragon?”

Janus chuckled. “So long as you be my knight. You know I would follow you to the ends of the earth.” He placed his hand in Roman’s and let him spin them around the room for a bit before insisting they go to sleep.

As they slept, Roman dreamt. Within the dream, his imagination granted him the chance to control his world. Using it, he puzzled out every outcome of the fight he knew would take place. He knew how Remus fought but Remus also knew how Roman fought. Roman had no idea if Remus had picked up different techniques but knew he himself had. He’d quickly adapted a whole different fighting style out of necessity while sparring with Janus. He knew how to sweep his leg in ways Remus would not see coming, knew how to change his speed and angle faster than the human eye could see. 

Confident he had the fight down and knew how to win, his dreams settled into memories of the old times, when his mother still smiled when he brought her his works, even though they were filled with cliches. The times when Remus was still willing to play with him in any game they could come up with. The time their father was willing to climb the tallest elm tree in the courtyard with them just to make sure they didn’t fall. If a tear slipped out in his sleep, neither commented on it the next morning.

Roman strapped himself into his armor, grabbing his sword and shield. Janus stood in front of him, handing him a piece of paper. Roman moved to unfold it but was stopped before he could. “Don’t. There is an ancient prayer written on it. In the case of your success and continued life, you are to open it and read it aloud. If you are to fail and die, it is to be buried with you, never to be opened. The prayer will guide you to the afterlife.”

“Why must I read it aloud if I live?” He stuffed it into a safe crevice in his chest plate.

“It is to release the prayer and the magic it comes with back to the earth.” Roman nodded and shifted to move away but Janus kept a firm hold on him. “Promise me one thing, my knight?”

Roman let his hand cover Janus’. “Anything, my dragon.”

“Do not go quietly into the night, but rage against the dying of the light. Don’t give up easily, fight against your death should it arrive to take you.”

Roman nodded, both ignoring the tears streaming down their cheeks. “I will try to find a way back to you, no matter the cost. I am an unstoppable force, remember?”

“Yes, but your brother seems to be an immovable object. Just be careful out there.”

“Always.” Before he could stop himself, he was heading out the door to the training ground. He stretched as he did before every spar session with Janus but didn’t practice. He simply sat on a bench in the shade and waited for the inevitable thought to hit him. The thought that must not have crossed the minds of many others in history. The thought that he had three outcomes for this. He could be killed by his own brother, he could be forced to kill his own brother, or he could exile the same brother. 

He took a deep breath, slipping into a familiar meditation that Janus had taught him a few years back. Before he knew it, a fist was knocking against his knee and he was jolted out of his meditation to be face to face with Remus. “Hiya, brother dear.” Remus grinned.

Roman nodded, not letting his composure slip. “Is it time already, Remus?”

Remus nodded, “Yep. Just like old times, ain’t it?”

Roman stood, hefting his sword into his hand. “As I recall, we were not trying to kill each other the last time we sparred.”

Remus hesitated. “Maybe you weren’t.” He swung his morning star in a wide, sweeping arc. 

They fell into battle stance and, at the sound of a horn, they began. They circled for a bit, sizing each other up and seeing how the body language has changed in the past decade. Diving forward, Remus, ever the impatient one, was the first to strike.

Being used to Janus’ tail swipes, Roman jumped the blow with ease as he landed an answering one on the top of Remus’ helmet. He spun, going over his brother’s back until they were facing and circling once again. Roman attacked in quick succession. He used his shield to block Remus’ next strike as he aimed for the unprotected side.

It went high and to the left, striking near Remus’ heart. He dropped to the ground, weapon falling out of his hand. Tears gathered in Roman’s eyes, obscuring his vision. “Remus, do you yield?”

Remus could only groan, even as Roman asked again in a choked voice. “Remus, do you yield?!”

A third time, it was a plea and a prayer, not a question. “Remus, please yield!” His sword was pointed at his brother’s neck, poised ready to plunge forward and end his misery if he did not yield.

After the third time Roman spoke, Remus responded. It was forced, and sounded more painful than anything Roman had ever heard, but it was an answer “Yes.”

Roman dropped his sword, reaching to cradle his younger brother in his arms, screaming for a doctor, screaming for Janus. Soon, the dragon witch was on the scene, magic crackling at his fingertips as he slammed his palms into Remus, knitting the torn flesh together but leaving a scar that went the whole way through the torso. Once the healing was complete, Janus sat back on his heels, exhaustion plaguing his every movement.

Roman reached out a hand to Janus, the other still holding the now unconscious Remus. “Thank you, my friend. Thank you.”

Janus only nodded. “The prayer.”

“Right!” Digging out the sheet of paper, Roman opened it and read aloud, voice ringing across the courtyard. “May the peace of the tallest mountain and the peace of the smallest stone be your peace. May the stillness of the stars watch over you. May the everlasting music of the wave lull you to rest.”

Janus sighed in the way Roman had come to associate with a release of magic back into the environment. 

Remus did not wake that day, nor the next. When he did wake, Roman had no choice but to banish him from the kingdom, never to return to the land of his birth. Remus was gone within the week. Janus and Roman transferred the hoard of treasure to the castle, using it to rebuild the kingdom and get the people back to prosperity.

Under the reign of King Roman, the kingdom of Initiomagna prospered for many years to come.