#BUT YOULL GET YOUR SATISFACTION SOON ENOUGH

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

Hiii I was wondering if you had any estimate of how long until the batfam reunites with tim in TDSB? I'm just curious if we're close to it cause with the way you're pumping out chapters I'm like o_O

This isn't a bad thing ofc! And no pressure or whatever again I'm just curious

I love your writing thank you for sharing 🫶

Oh buddy dont get me STARTED- But yes it will still be.. a while- BUT ill say that theres one more "arc" to go over (which is... a sorta reunion in a way) and after that the pacing will be picking up A L O T

And I got that! Ive been saying since day one like "Hey guys if this ends before at least 200k, I will be ASTOUNDED-" because my entire writing style is an entire book series worth of content

For some people I imagine they'll end up dropping off once it gets "too long" for their taste which is fair, but for me? Im writing a whole ass epic here and proud of it

Thank you so much! And curiosity is a wonderful thing to have, happy to hear from you my dear :)

(also for a lil sneak peak, heres the spoiler free modgepodge outline I have- it is not to scale though dw- and the censored are some major events, others are like "Steph and Gwen date"!! so when I come up with a new scene I know where it needs to fall in if I wanna make it work)

[thetourguidebarbie]

For @itsnotacrimetoloveyou’s birthday/her starting med school/bribery reasons, etc! Hope you enjoy! Warnings: Smut, possessive!Klaus, mentions of bdsm but no actual bdsm, anal sex, soulmate-adjascent.

Klaus groaned softly as the girl’s blood hit his tongue, his hands easily holding her hips in place on his lap as she struggled for friction against him. Her heartbeat was slowing, her breathing ragged, and he pulled back once she began to go limp, just shy of passing out. She was rather pretty, her eyes dark brown and heavy-lidded, cheeks flushed with arousal and fear. He knew he should probably feel temptation, but whenever he thought of physical satisfaction all he could see was Caroline’s bright blue eyes and teasing grin.

She’d flitted in and out of his life for the last half-century, but never seemed to leave his fantasies. Generally she hung around a few months, less often for more than a year, but their accidental run-ins had been getting less accidental on both their parts for the better part of a decade.

She was close to staying now. He could feel it.

Currently Josh was tailing Caroline and her magically-immortal-witch friend on their third trip through the Andes (he’d been subjected to several group selfies that his hybrid and the Bennett girl were unceremoniously cropped out of before they were saved on his phone), and though he itched to meet her when she was done, his instincts were telling him to wait for some reason, and trusting his gut hardly ever failed him.

Trying to put her out of his mind for now—if only so that he could get some work done—he called for a hybrid to come give his afternoon snack some water and blood and watch her until it left her system to ensure she didn’t turn. He had business to attend to and Josephine got rather testy if he was late. It was best to stay on the powerful witch’s good side if he needed more favors.

The hybrid who came to collect the girl seemed troubled, and he spoke as soon as he entered.

“We picked up a vampire loitering at the edge of the property. She’s in the dungeon.”

Klaus hummed disinterestedly. It was a common occurrence, vampires turning up to either kill him or wriggle their way into his good graces. Neither succeeded of course, but it was occasionally amusing to watch them try. “And?”

“Judging by how weak she was when we brought her in she was probably only turned a few decades ago. She said you’d know her. That you’d want to see her.”

That made Klaus pause, frowning. Very few vampires he knew of fit that description. Though the youngest doppelganger was most likely stupid enough to think he’d be interested in anything she had to say (or anything about her at all), he had no doubt that both Salvatore brothers were invested on ensuring that they remained on separate continents.

His curiosity was piqued, and he pushed his still-swaying snack into the hybrid’s arms. “What did she look like? Do you have her name?”

“Blonde. Tall-ish? She said her name was Carrie. Carly, mayb—“

“Caroline,” Klaus interrupted, already pushing past the hybrid. “Call Josephine and tell her the meeting is cancelled.”

It didn’t take him long to reach the cell, and he winced when he saw Caroline glaring at him from her chains, which bound her wrists together and above her, her toes brushing the floor as she swayed.

“Did you seriously give them orders to cuff me on sight? You should tell your minions it’s rude to tie guests up.”

“I’ll have words with them,” Klaus said, taking a few steps towards her, his eyes dragging up and down her body, looking for injuries. “Though I must point out that you didn’t object to it last time.”

“Yeah, well, last time I wasn’t being dragged from the front gate to a dungeon by random minions. I was on a bed.”

He grinned, stopping to stand so that they were chest to chest, his hands reaching to cup her ass, squeezing lightly and grinning when her breath caught. “And you were a bit distracted by other things as I recall.”

She huffed, her cheeks pinking as she squirmed against his hand almost instinctively, perhaps not realizing she was doing it. “I mean, I’m okay with you doing the tying. Speaking of, how about you untie me. Well, uncuff me.”

“Mmm, I think I like you where you are,” he said, nosing her jaw and grinning when he heard her soft whimper as his blunt teeth dragged down her jaw before he nipped her ear. “Though if you insist I’m happy to oblige, of course.”

She swallowed, shifting slightly so that he caught the scent of the wetness gathering between her thighs, and just as he took his hands away and reached to pull the manacles out of the wall she spoke, the words breathless. “What did you have in mind?”

He smirked, his hands stilling against the chains as he held her gaze. “I've had a great deal of time to come up with an extensive list of all the things I want to do to you, Caroline. However shall I decide?”

“Klaus,” she whined, shifting as he popped the button off of her jeans and slipping his hand beneath the fabric, pressing his finger against her clit through the thin cotton covering her center.

“Best test them all, I think,” he murmured, watching her face for any sign of discomfort, needing to be sure that she wanted what he was offering. She was wet already, and he groaned as he slid his fingers under the fabric and against her folds. “Fuck, sweetheart.”

“I want,” she breathed, trailing off as she rolled her hips against his hand, and he immediately pulled his hand away, hungry for her to admit how much she craved his touch.

“What do you want, Caroline? Tell me.”

He’d spent countless hours exploring her body, mapping her skin to find the places that made her take shallow gasps of air and fall bonelessly into his arms. They’d experimented after the first few times, Caroline bright red as she asked him to talk to her, to tell her everything he fantasized about. Being tied up and teased to the edge was one of her favorites, watching him stroke himself a close second, and he never shied away from giving her what she wanted. He loved having her entirely at his mercy, the absolute trust she gave him heady and precious. He made her beg for his hands, for his mouth or cock, and the way the words passed her lips was immensely satisfying. Even when he was rough, when he broke skin with his fangs or nails or she let him tie her on her knees and fuck her hard and fast from behind, she wanted it, asked for it. There was nothing more satisfying for his wolf than seeing her in sheets covered in his scent, head bowed between her elbows with her wrists tied and her legs spread, all for him to take.

“I want you,” she said, staring at him with big blue eyes.

“And how do you want me, love?”

“I thought you wanted to be in charge.”

“I’m open to suggestions.”

“I want you to claim me,” she whispered, her breath shallow, and he stilled.

They’d only talked about it once, the process of a werewolf claiming its mate. It was permanent and intimate, a mark of him invisibly inked by magic that she’d carry for the rest of her eternal life. It meant she was his.

He wanted to so badly, just the words coming out of her mouth making his cock throb as he imagined how her back would feel against his chest as he filled her, the break of her skin against his teeth as he marked her as his. He wanted his scent to cling to her skin, for his name to be the only one to fall from her lips.

“Caroline,” he said slowly, his voice rough. “That’s not a....a claiming isn’t something to take lightly.”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a decade, Klaus. I think I know that I want it.”

“You’re sure?” he asked, trying to resist the urge to yank the chain from the wall, his breathing shallow, his cock aching at the image of her on her knees with her cheek against the stone, her clothes shredded, hands behind her back to part the cheeks of her arse for him.

She nodded, moving her head slightly so that she could catch his lips in a drugging kiss, her tongue lightly stroking his lower lip as she sighed in contentment before pulling back to rest her forehead against his. “I love you.”

He felt like his throat was clogged, his breath stalled in his lungs. He hadn’t expected that, for her to admit her feelings for him so easily, and it was slightly overwhelming to hear it when he wasn’t sure how to respond. ‘Love’ had never seemed like quite the right word for how he felt about Caroline, after all. It had always been passion and obsession, protectiveness and need. It was something so much more than such a small word could describe. She was everything and she was his.

It was close enough for now, though, especially when he saw the way her eyes lit up when he repeated it back to her, the brightness of her smile almost blinding.

“But Caroline,” he continued, needing to press, to be absolutely certain. “You do know that if you do this...if you agr—“

“I just told you I’m yours,” she interrupted, slightly breathless, eyes dark. “Klaus, there is literally not a single other person in the world who I’d trust enough for this. I wanted some time to really think it through and decide, and I did. I want to be with you. I want to be yours the way that you’ve always been mine.”

“Caroline—“

“Please,” she breathed, and he swore, his forehead falling against hers.

She squirmed against his fingers as he stroked her hip before moving to cup her ass, her back arching as his other hand gently tugged at her nipple, and he pulled back, watching hungrily as her eyes grew hazy, her lips parting with a soft moan.

“Bed, then,” he murmured, reaching for the manacles and yanking them from the stone with a cunch before snapping the steel that held them closed. “I want to see your nails rip our sheets.”

She seemed pleased at his use of ‘our’, shaking out her hands when the manacles fell with a crash to the floor. “I’m okay with that.”

“Perhaps you’ll let me shackle you again later, to rub your clit until you’re lingering on the edge while I trace the mark I’ve left on your skin with my tongue.”

“Perhaps,” she drawled, making him grin. She’d picked up some of his habits and word choices over their intermittent meetings (and admittedly he a few of hers, most notably the eye-rolling, though he thankfully had never started inserting unnecessary ‘likes’ between clauses), but her penchant for making fun of his ‘old person britishness’ nonetheless remained, including his choice of ‘boring’ teas and use of words like ‘perhaps’ and ‘perchance’.

He looked forward to seeing what else they’d share, what other little habits she’d show him.

He pulled her close to speed his private wing of the compound, not bothering to be subtle when he buried his nose in her hair, savoring the feel of her pressed against him.

She pulled back, pressing her lips against his, swiping the roof of his mouth with the heat of her tongue, hands curled around his biceps. He let her take what she wanted for now, to taste him and explore his skin with her hands the way she had a hundred times before.

When she finally pulled back with dark eyes and puffy lips he was achingly hard. Her breathing was slightly laboured, the scent of her want rolling off of her only tempting him to feel her wet and tight around his cock.

Perhaps later, when they were tangled in their sheets and she was pliant and sated in his arms, he’d slot himself between her thighs and watch her quiver underneath him, flushed and hazy-eyed. For now he just craved her on her knees, his wolf itching to claim now that his mate had freely offered.

“Do you have lube?” she asked, kicking off her jeans and beginning to pull off her blouse. She stilled at the low rumble in his throat as her creamy skin was revealed and grinned, her movements slowing down as the fabric creeped up her body. “I brought some in my purse just in case, but—“

“You planned this,” he interrupted, his lips twitching, and she nodded easily, unclipping her bra and shrugging it off. “Tell me sweetheart, do you think about it often?”

“All the time,” she admitted, sliding her thong down her legs and kicking it away. “Where do you want me?”

He swallowed, taking in the sight of her standing nude in front of him without a hint of self-consciousness.

“Bed,” he ordered, his voice hoarse. It took effort for him to tear his eyes away from her getting comfortable against his pillows, to ignore the breathy sigh when he turned away to pull the toys they used when she was in town from the top shelf of the closet and looking through it for the bottle. “Don’t touch yourself. I can hear you.”

He grinned at her huff of annoyance, turning to walk back and taking the opportunity to admire the view. She was spread for him, her thighs shining from the way the light hit the slickness of her arousal, her cheek pressed to the pillow so that she could look at him, the practiced innocent expression on her face undermined by the barest hint of a smirk on her lips. “I thought you liked watching me touch myself.”

“Not today. Be patient, love. Good girls get rewards, after all.”

She bit her lip at the tone of his voice, her eyes darkening when he stripped off his shirt and began to undo his belt. She’d never been shy about her enjoyment of his more possessive instincts when they were alone, had freely admitted to preferring a rougher touch and liking the way he took control. He saw her eyes follow his fingers as he unbuttoned his jeans, how her tongue darted over her lips when she saw him hard for her.

“Keep your wrists where they are, sweetheart,” he warned, brushing her spine with his fingertips when she murmured her agreement and climbing on the bed behind her.

The way her breath caught when he spread the slick liquid over her back entrance made him grin, and he was unable to resist stroking the skin of her arse as a light tease, her low whimper of complaint making his cock twitch. He stroked himself with one hand as he got her ready with the other, whispering praise about how well she was doing and how beautiful she looked that he’d learned would make her melt.

She was panting as he stretched her with his fingers, rolling her hips in an effort to find a rhythm with his fingers. He pulled back when she was finally ready, slickening his hard cock with lube and positioning himself at her entrance.

“Good, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” she breathed. “Go ahead.”

He could see her eyes go hazy when he pressed inside of her, his hands squeezing her hips. “I love the way you look on your knees like this. Bent over in my bed, offering yourself to me for the taking.”

She moaned his name when he began to move, her breathing growing harsher when his thrusts sped up. He watched her face when he reached around to rub her clit in tight circles, committed the sight of her parted lips and flushed cheeks to memory. It had been years since he’d done this, his wolf side unlocking having made him reluctant to risk an accidental bond. Waiting for Caroline to choose him for good had been torture, the rush of pure, primal need in his veins whenever he laid eyes on her difficult to control. He wanted nothing more than to let his wolf’s magic unfurl from his skin and cloak her, to scrape his teeth against her neck as he came and leave the scar visible as a warning to any who might mean her harm.

“That feels so good,” she gasped out, arching her back to give him a better angle. “Talk to me.”

He grinned, bending forward. “Talk to you?”

“Mmhm.”

“What about, sweetheart?”

She huffed, the sound making him grin. “Have you thought about me when I was gone?”

“Of course,” he said, his voice almost embarrassingly hoarse with need, his breath hitching when she clenched around him. “Every day.”

“Tell me.”

“About how much I craved you tangled with me at night? The rhythm of your breathing? Your scent clinging to my sheets?” he asked, purposefully avoiding what she’d requested between the lines of her question, wanting her to ask.

“Did you think about me when you touched yourself!” she clarified, shooting him an exasperated look that changed to a gasp when he pinched her clit.

“Every day,” he repeated, moving faster, savoring her moans, his nails digging into her hips. “I have so many fantasies of the things I want to do to you, sweetheart. Things I want to try. I do love the way you look bound to my bed with a toy in your pussy, compelled not to come but trying to find friction, begging for me to indulge you. It’s a common fantasy I go back to, the memory of your pretty lips parted and your eyelids fluttering.”

She moaned his name, her fingers curling in the sheets, her breathing growing more labored. “More,” she demanded. “Please.”

“But sometimes that’s not quite enough,” he continued, his hands moving to her hips to steady her, “and when I need the extra push I think of the last time you were here, how you begged for your master to give you release. You were so eager to please, so perfect. I’ve thought extensively about what else I might convince you to beg for, what pretty sounds you’ll make as I stain your arse red with my palm or fasten clamps around your nipples. How you’ll get wet from nothing but the sting of painful pleasure and the knowledge that I’m getting off on it. Would you like that?”

She nodded hurriedly. “I liked it when we did it last time,” she breathed, her words tangling as she tried to get them out. “It was really hot.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, grinning at the way her breath hitched at the words. “Now tell me, sweetheart. Is my cock filling you enough to make you come?”

“No,” she gasped out, admitting what they both already knew from years of exploring each other’s bodies. “I need you to touch my clit.”

“Ask. Beg.”

She obeyed immediately, the pleas falling quickly from her lips. He could feel his muscles tightening as he obliged her, the pleasure of her tight and hot around his cock as he took her in, bent and submissive and begging for more, for him to fuck her harder, bringing him closer to the edge. He could feel his fangs break through his gums, the overwhelming desire to taste, to claim,

He bent forward to bite her shoulder when he came, running his tongue along the mark and grinning at her sharp breath from the sensation. He toyed with her clit until he felt her shake against him as she tipped over the edge.

He rolled off of her and pulled her close, offering her his neck for the cure. He had only a brief moment to admire the face of her monster before she let her fangs pierce his neck, drinking a few gulps with a soft hum before pulling back, running her tongue along the wound when it closed.

“How do you feel, sweetheart?”

“Good,” she said, arching her back to stretch before curling closer to him, tangling her legs with his, her face buried in his shoulder. “I’m tired.”

“You must have flown quite a ways.”

“Yeah. It was a huge pain because I had to convince your minion to let it be a surprise and then deal with flying a gazillion hours being worried that you’d say no and I’d just embarrass myself—“

“I would never,” he said immediately, tracing her spine with his fingers. “I’ve waited for you to be ready for ages. You can’t imagine I’d ever turn you away.”

“It’s nice to know for sure,” she said, wriggling even closer so that her body was fully pressed against his, cloaking herself in his warmth and scent. “I love you.”

There were those words again, so human and small, but he couldn’t deny that hearing them fall from her lips made his heart lighten.

“And I you.”

“Well you’d better. You’re stuck with me now,” she pointed out, squeaking when he pinched her side. “Klaus!”

“I’ve long known that I would never be able to let you go, Caroline. My mate.”

“Good,” she said, humming contentedly as his arms wrapped around her. “Me neither.”

[fixaidea]

Paris, 1840

It was in the early days of the year 1840 when Monsieur Nicolas Barré, a young, moderately successful novelist fell in with Augustin Perrault and his group of friends. Perrault, done with University, was pursuing a career in journalism and met M. Barré for work related reasons. The working relationship quickly turned into friendship (a quick and easy thing with the young journalist), and soon enough, over a shared glass of wine, Perrault invited him to meet up with the rest of his closest friends.

‘I must say’ Nicolas huffed, clinking his glass against Perrault’s ‘Whatever you told your friends about me, they better lower their expectations. Sure I’m a delight, a true treat to have around’ he winked ‘But political I am not. Not nearly as much as you are.’

Perrault waved his hand in airy dismissal.

‘Never fear. You are no monarchist, and that is all they need. Clavier is more hands-on when it comes to politics but the rest like to hold such issues at arm’s length. No one will begrudge you for not keeping a pet guillotine in your backyard.’

Nicolas chuckled and refilled their glasses.

‘So you’re telling me buying a closetful of red caps to impress them was a waste? Ah well. Now, we are men of the pen, you and I, even if we employ our words quite differently. How about the rest? All writers?’

‘Alain Clavier certainly is, he’s a playwright. Well, in theory at least. In reality he’s a true Renaissance man, doing all things Theatre. Manager, designer, stand-in actor, all of it. René Giraud is an engineer, or rather, currently an assistant to one, Yves Belarbre is a painter. A portraitist, but he has some novel ideas about painting dreams, you’ll see.’

After a couple of more glasses Perrault announced that he still had some obligations to attend to. Just as they were about to part, he turned to Nicolas.

‘I must warn you about one of my friends though, Giraud. He has some peculiar habits, but the one that most concerns you is that he’s rather picky about who gets to touch him. He’s going to allow a handshake, but do not attempt anything more. If he takes a shine to you, he will come to you in his own time.’

Nicolas smiled and nodded, although he did not understand why he needed such a warning – certainly he was affectionate, but nowhere near as much as Perrault, pawning at random strangers was usually not the first thing on his mind. Surely keeping his hands off of one would not be much of a hardship. His nonchalance regarding the matter lasted exactly until the moment of meeting the man in question. René Giraud was on the shorter end of average height, thin and tired looking and, at least in Nicolas’ humble opinion, utterly adorable. He had fluffy, white-blond hair and big, pensive blue eyes.

They did not get to talk too much that first day – as Nicolas later learned this was not simply because Perrault and his friend Alain Clavier dominated every single conversation they took part in, but also because of Giraud’s own quiet nature. Still, all through the evening Nicolas kept sneaking glances at the man and, to his immense satisfaction, found himself being watched in turn. Just before the company disbanded for the night, Giraud sidled up to him. He cocked his head to the side and spoke, eyes fixed on the floor:

‘What do you call a medical-minded dog?’

Caught off guard, Nicolas scratched his beard.

‘I have no idea. What indeed?’

‘Un physi-chien*’

Nicolas blinked. For a moment he was not sure if he truly heard what he did, but René was watching him expectantly out of the corner of his eye. Nicolas’ big body began to shake and soon he was howling with laughter. Giraud, proud of his work, bounced on his heels and smiled, blushing with joy. Nicolas raised his hand to clap him on the back, but caught himself in time and hastily showed his fist into his pocket.

He wiped off his tears. That was it. He needed to win his René-touching privileges as soon as possible.

***

It was the end of May, but the weather resembled the worst of August and Nicolas was painfully stuck. Again. His serialised novel was running out of pre-written chapters at an alarming rate, he needed to catch up with it and soon. He could practically feel his editor breathing down his neck. He was sating at a blank page. In fact, he had been doing just that for the last half an hour, but the words stubbornly refused to manifest. With a deep sigh of defeat he donned his lightest coat and hat. If inspiration would not come on its own, the best he could do was to try and seek it out. After a brief consideration he headed to the Louvre.

He regretted his decision to leave the flat the moment he stepped out of his building. The streets were scorching hot, vibrating above the cobblestones. Dust filled the air and the sun was so blinding, that without the straw hat to protect his eyes, Nicolas doubted he would be able to see a thing. Still, he steeled himself and faced the inferno of the city.

He was richly rewarded for his effort – the inside of the museum was shady and blessedly cool. Few people took the effort or had the time to drag themselves here at his hour, so it was also mostly deserted. He sighed again, this time in relief, and was about to zone out and let himself get lost in the centuries of art surrounding him, when out of the corner of his eye he spotted a familiar mop of blond hair. René Giraud was sitting on a bench, an open notebook in his hands, though when Nicolas stepped closer he noticed he was staring at his feet rather than at the pages. He started when Nicolas greeted him.

‘Ah, hello there, Monsieur Barré! I mean. Nicolas.’

Nicolas smiled and plopped down beside him. He was pleased René was finally gave up on the formal ‘you’ with him, even if he still called him by his surname sometimes.

‘You must be quite the patron of arts to cross the city on such a wretched day just to look at pictures! Or are you, like me, in need of inspiration for something?’

‘Neither, I’m afraid’ René answered. He kept his gaze on his notebook. When they first met Nicolas wondered if he did this because he did not like him or was especially flustered in his presence, but had since come to learn that this was simply something he did with everyone. Avert his eyes or, remembering that you ought to look people in the eye, fix his unblinking gaze upon you.

‘I am here exactly because the day is wretched’ René went on ‘My quarters are unbearable and so are the streets. Everything seems to be so much more intense in this horrible weather. The people are loud and irritable and they stink. I stink, the horses stink, I can barely see, everything is bleached white by the sun, even the sky. It’s either white or that unsettling shade of lilac.’

‘Lilac? I never noticed that.’

‘It is though. A pale lilac. I find it deeply disturbing. Here though…’ he looked up ‘Here it’s cool and quiet and the smells are subdued. I like this place.’

‘Still, it must be boring to just sit here. Walk with me?’

Nicolas thought of offering his hand as they got up, but René was on his feet before him. They wandered the halls in silence for a while. Nicolas knew his friend was not exactly loquacious, but he wondered if this silence was stretching too far. Testing the waters, next time he spotted a particularly interesting painting he stopped before it and quietly started to explain what he knew about it. With others, he tried to guess what the artist might have meant, making up stories on the spot, one wilder and more colourful than the rest. René mostly kept quiet, but seemed to be enjoying himself none the less. Every now and then he inserted his own small remarks or chuckled lightly at Nicolas’ jokes. Encouraged by this, Nicolas was gaining momentum, spinning one astounding, ridiculous tale after the other, compensating for the low voice he kept with sweeping gestures and exaggerated expressions. Soon René was pressing his hand against his mouth, his whole body shaking with the laughter he desperately fought to hold in.

And then he froze.

His smile faltered and slowly disappeared as something behind Nicolas caught his eyes. Nicolas turned, following his gaze.

They were standing in front of a large painting. The canvas was populated by a crowd of figures, faces and bodies contorted by the pain of grief. In the centre, a male figure, a warrior, cradling the body of his fallen companion, face twisted into a mask of anguish.

‘Achilles and Patroclus.’ René whispered.

Nicolas nodded. He waited for his friend to turn away and move on, but he seemed to be hypnotised by the painting. They stood there in silence for a long while, before René finally spoke again.

‘I envy him, in a way.’

‘Who? I cannot for the life of me think of a single enviable character in that story.’

‘Patroclus. How much Achilles loved him, unashamed. He was no dirty little secret.’

It took the both of them a moment to fully realise what he just said. René, scrambling to save face, blushing so fiercely it was visible even in the dim light of the museum, and rushed to continue:

‘I-I mean it’s a touching story no matter how you look at it, I mean, anyone would be grateful for such loyalty from a friend…’

Nicolas took a deep breath and, momentarily forgetting himself, laid a hand on René’s arm. The little engineer froze. Nicolas quickly released him.

‘I understand.’

René peered up at him from under his curls.

‘Do you? Truly?’

Blood was rushing into Nicolas’ face and he suddenly felt very light and somehow detached from his body, as if he was watching the conversation from afar. Still, his friend laid his soul bare before him, if only on accident, he had to know he was not alone.

‘I do. I understand what you meant.’

René kept his big eyes fixed on him for a moment then slowly, so slowly, reached out and laid his hand on his arm. Nicolas’ heart leapt to his throat – carefully he raised his own had and covered René’s with it. They held the connection for a second before René stepped back. He cleared his throat.

‘I must be going now, I have some plans I need to double check. Thank you for this afternoon.’

‘My pleasure’ said Nicolas, eyes fixed on his toes ‘See you back at our café?’

‘Yes. Yes, certainly.’

***

Nicolas wondered if things will change between them and indeed, there was a small but noticable shift in their interactions. Nothing dramatic – unlike Augustin, Nicolas still was not allowed to just walk up to René and cuddle him. Though of course he never tried. Still, at least René would now touch him every now and then. Nothing too personal or overly familiar, rather he simply did not go out of his way anymore to avoid contact. Nicolas tried a little bit of flirting but as the engineer did not respond – or even seemed to notice his attempts – he soon ceased.

It was now July, and Nicolas was in the middle of revising his latest chapter (or more precisely re-arranging the bookshelves while thinking very hard about how he should be revising said chapter) when the knock came. He left the bookshelf somewhat begrudgingly – he was hard at work, creating, how dare people hinder his genius! – and went to answer it, grumbling all the way. He schooled his features into what he hoped was a polite but slightly haughty expression and he opened the door.

The corridor was empty.

Nicolas rolled his eyes – was the half a minute it took him to get to the door truly too long a wait for his visitor? He was about to retreat when he noticed a sheet of paper at his feet. A message then? A prank? A strongly worded appeal from his editor? It turned out to be neither. It was a poem. It was not written in pen, but in letters carefully cut out from a newspaper and glued to a sheet.

TO THE LOVE I DARE NOT NAME

FROM THE SHADOWS I SING YOUR PRAISES SCRAMBLING IN VAIN FOR THE RIGHT PHRASES YOU ARE ROUND AND WARM LIKE THE SUN IN JUNE THE COPPER OF YOUR HAIR IS THE CAUSE OF MY DESPAIRE

HAVE MERCY ON ME, O MUSE

He read it – and read it again. And again. It seemed to be a sincere if terrible love poem. Nicolas tugged at his beard. Was this dedicated to him? The mention of the subject’s bodily proportions and hair colour suggested so, but he was still uncertain. Humming lightly, he folded up the paper and got back to work. He resolved to show the strange little letter to his friends and thought nothing of it for the rest of the day.

When he did in fact pull the sheet out on their next get-together, the reaction of the group was, in the mildest possible terms, explosive. Alain ripped the letter out of his hand and studied it for several minutes, muttering to himself all the way through, before he was forced to relinquish it to a nagging Augustin, and then to Yves. René, reserved as ever, did not attempt to grab for the page, but followed the proceedings with eager eyes.

‘Well then’ Nicolas said ‘What do you gentlemen make of it?’

‘Why, my dear fellow’ said Augustin, leaning back in his seat ‘It is quite obvious. You have a secret admirer!’

Nicolas propped his chin on his hand and laughed.

‘Well, there’s no debating I’m a right catch, any lady would agree I’m sure, but don’t you think it more likely that this would be a nervous amateur trying to show his work off? Maybe try and get a foot in the door of publishing through me?’

Yves waved a hand with a little huff of dismissal.

‘Quite unlikely. If this were a poet interested in getting his name known, surely he would have included just that: his name! No my dear, this is quite obviously a love-stricken if unusually daring and forward lady!’

‘A true little firebrand!’ Alain exclaimed.

René remained quiet. Nicolas searched his face with a slight flicker of hope for any sign that he might be the one behind it, but then dismissed the idea. He could not picture him resigning himself to such bold a move.

‘All right then’ he said, folding up the sheet ‘I suppose my best bet now is to wait and see.’

And see he did. The very next day, about the same time, the knock sounded again. Nicolas, hard at work on his novel (he was cleaning his windows), took some time to answer, so the mysterious visitor was long gone by the time he got to the door. In her – his? wake he left an elegant box of high-end pralines. Nicolas inspected the gift for a message, but found none.

Well then. This certainly seemed to underline the ‘secret admirer’ theory, opposed to the ‘hopeful amateur poet’. Smiling to himself, Nicolas plopped a piece into his mouth and retreated. Excitement was starting to bubble up in his belly – who could this be? Sure, he had his secret hopes for a certain engineer, but with all his loveable qualities, René just did not look like the type for grand romantic gestures. Who else then? Nicolas made a list of all the ladies and gentlemen he knew, but found it entirely unhelpful. He had half a mind to drop everything and go seek out Augustin, even though they were not meant to meet up that day, but decided against it. The group regularly met on Tuesday and Friday nights, sometimes on weekends, and it was only Wednesday. Let’s not rush anything, let’s wait and see what happens next!

Thursday brought him a nice set of steel-tipped pens, complete with ink, all tied up with a bow. Now Nicolas was all but crawling out of his skin with excitement and resolved to catch the person responsible in the act.

On Friday he was fully expecting the knock, but he made a fatal mistake. The weather turned damp and cold, so Nicolas decided to make himself a cup of tea as he waited. The problem was only that his visitor was a full hour early compared to the previous days, so he had a kettle full of boiling water in his hands when the knock came, and by the time he managed to carefully put it down without spilling any of it on himself, his mysterious suitor was gone again. In their wake they left a bouquet.

Nicolas snatched it up and inspected it excitedly. It was a nicely arranged collection of reds, blues and yellows. On a whim, Nicolas quickly averted his eyes. He was keen to find out what message might be coded in there in the flirty language of flowers, but he wanted to decipher it in the presence of his friends. He placed the bouquet in a vase and resolved not to look at it for the rest of the day.

It was an excruciating exercise in temperance and patience and he came close to failing several times, sneaking glances at it every now and then, but miraculously he persisted. Still, it felt like the longest day of his life. He tried to proceed with his writing, but his thought kept floating back to the mysterious gifts and the sound of footsteps fading in the hallway.

When the clock finally struck five he practically flew out the door and did not stop until he reached their café, the Poule Rouge. René was already there, nursing a cup of coffee at his usual seat. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Nicolas flung himself down beside him. He looked up – only be greeted by a mass of flowers shown in his face.

‘From your admirer?’ he asked around the clump of vegetation.

‘I’m assuming yes!’ said Nicolas, leaning in close ‘What do you think?’

René regarded him solemnly for a long moment, then looked down.

‘I think it’s pretty. It has happy colours. I think whoever gave it to you wanted you to be happy.’

Nicolas could feel his lips stretch into a grin. He was about to answer but Alain’s booming voice cut him off. The man entered with Yves on one arm, Augustin on the other. Nicolas held up the bouquet like a trophy.

‘Well, well, well’ said Alain as he slid into the seat across Nicolas and pressed a cup of wine into his hands ‘What have we here?’

The three newcomers – all experts in courtship and all the delicacies it involved – pulled the bouquet into the middle of the table and began to pour over it. Nicolas watched in excitement, but his enthusiasm began to falter as their faces fell. After a couple of minutes they sat back and exchanged some deeply confused glances.

Yves scratched the back of his head.

‘Well this… All right, let’s see. The good news is the cornflower, which means wealth and fortune, the yellow rose, which stands for joy and friendship and the blue iris for faith and hope. But we also have marigold for jealousy and yellow carnation for disappointment and rejection. Also red poppies which mean consolation. So. There’s that.’

Alain propped his chin on his hand.

‘It might not mean anything at all.’

‘No no no, let’s not give up on this so quickly’ said Augustin ‘The lady went out of her way to play this intricate game, surely there must be some sort of message in there. So what do we have? Wealth, friendship or joy, consolation, hope or faith but also jealousy and either disappointment or rejection. This to me speaks of someone who was for some reason disappointed in you, but who values your friendship more than her pride and has hope in repairing your relations. It’s simple!’

‘I don’t think that’s it, not at all’ Yves objected ‘Look at this closely! The poppies and the yellow carnations out-weight the rest – to me, that says the sender has been disappointed to the degree she wants to now part ways. She includes the rose, the iris and the cornflower as a reminder to why she started this game to begin with, but does not wish to continue.’

A heavy lump settled into Nicolas’ throat. Still, he tried to hide his disappointment, so he arranged his features into a smile and laughed.

‘Well, I suppose we shall see about that. We’ll find out if she truly wishes to quit before long – tomorrow at the latest. If the gifts cease I can assume the lady truly meant it and lost interest.’

Soon the topic was changed as Augustin brought up a play he was interested in seeing and the rest of the evening was spent with amicable chatter, though René excused himself early. He had not spoken a single word all evening and after a quick round of goodbyes he hurried away without explanation. As he retreated Nicolas could have sworn he had seen him rubbing at his face.

Nicolas for his part was crestfallen. The presence and chatter of his friends took away the edge of the blow but he was sad to see this interesting affaire come to an end. Not to mention he had no idea what he did wrong to put off his secret admirer this much. With one last sigh he downed his wine. Ah, well. It was nice while it lasted.

The next day he all but managed to put his disappointment out of his mind, though a shard of it was still lodged in his heart like a persistent thorn. He tried to concentrate on his work, failed, tried again, failed, gave up and went for a walk. He went all the way to the Jardin de Luxembourg in hopes of clearing his mind. He was in great need of that – he wrote himself into a corner and had no idea how to rescue his own heroine. Sadly the fragrant air of the park failed to deliver any flashes of inspiration, so with a heavy heart he returned to his flat.

He was almost through the door when a flash of red caught his eye.

A red rose was lying on his threshold. Nicolas carefully picked it up and turned it over in his hand. There was a note attached to it, composed in the same manner the very first poem was, of letters and words cut out from a newspaper.

I HAD NO IDEA FLOWERS MEANT THINGS. THIS IS WHAT I MEANT.

Nicolas stood there, rooted to the threshold for a long time, grinning.

Now he was almost certain of his mysterious admirer’s identity, but still, he was curious about the reactions of his friends. When he entered the tavern the company gathered that night he held aloft the flower like a banner of victory.

‘Confess, gentlemen’ he said ‘Which one of you tattled?’

The rest looked back at him with wide, all-too innocent eyes.

‘What makes you accuse us so?’ Alain asked in the high-pitched, affronted voice of a man who had carried the gossip over half of Paris already. Nicolas showed him the rose and the letter attached.

‘That doesn’t prove anything’ Yves muttered, though he too was reluctant to meet his eyes ‘Your lady may have learned of her mistake independent of our conversation yesterday.’

‘But in such short a notice? Gentlemen, if not someone you passed the news on to, I’m forced to believe it might be one of you!’

Yves and Alain protested loudly, Augustin did not comment, merely shook his head with an amused grin. René, Nicolas noted with some cautious hope, was beet red and refused to move his gaze from his drink.

***

The next week went by without further communication from his suitor. Nicolas was beginning to fear he might have scared him (…or maybe her) away.  He was close to despair when finally, on a rather wet, gloomy Saturday the tell-tale knock sounded again. Nicolas raced to catch him, but as usual, his visitor was quicker. He left a letter behind, this time written in ink but in all capital letters so Nicolas still could not recognise the handwriting.

DEAREST,

MEET ME AT THE PÈRE-LACHAISE, AT THÉODORE GÉRICAULT’S TOMB, ONE O’CLOCK IN THE AFTERNOON.

This time he did not wait for the agree-upon get-together, he flagged down a coach and raced all the way to Augustin’s lodgings. Luckily he found the man at home and, upon being let in, quickly pushed the letter into his hands.

‘Look at this!’

Contrary to his exuberant enthusiasm so far, Augustin frowned and scratched his head.

‘This could be very good or very bad news. All through this little adventure I had a feeling that all this is way too daring, shameless even, for a lady.’

Nicolas did not wish to draw unneeded attention to the fact that he was quite all right with the mysterious suitor being a man, so he merely hummed his agreement.

‘Still’ he said ‘What’s the worst that might happen?’

Augustin raised an eyebrow.

‘You could be ridiculed at best, robbed or even killed at worst. You will be in the middle of a graveyard. Secluded, with plenty of places for the members of a gang to hide.’

This gave Nicolas a pause.

‘None the less’ he finally said ‘I want to know who is behind this.’

‘At least permit me to go with you!’

Now it was Nicolas’ turn to frown and tug at his bear.

‘A kind offer, but I must decline. Actually…‘ he took a deep breath ‘I have a good idea who this might be, and in case I’m right, I do not want to compromise this person.’

Augustin chuckled lightly and swatted his arm.

‘A true gentleman! Very well then, but promise to be careful!’

Nicolas smiled and pressed his hand.

‘I promise!’

***

The graveyard was all but deserted – Nicolas came across a couple of elderly ladies, the sort that is a permanent fixture of cemeteries all over the world, but none of them paid any attention to him. Though he did ask for directions at the gate it still took him a long time to find Géricault’s grave in the dense labyrinth of tombs. When he finally did he found the scene deserted. Not a single sound, except for the distant murmur of the city beyond the graveyard’s walls. His stomach fell. Was all this an elaborate prank? All this for nothing? And the culprit would not even stick around to witness his humiliation?

He dejectedly kicked a pebble and was about to leave when there – just there behind the edge of the massive block of the monument – he spotter the rim of a top hat. In two quick strides he rounded the tomb.

René Giraud was standing there hunched over, dressed in his best dress coat and shiniest shoes. When Nicolas came to stand in front of him he made an attempt to raise his head and look him in the eye but the task proved too much for him. The rose clenched in his hand was trembling. He wordlessly held it out.

Warm fondness bubbled up in Nicolas’ chest. He yearned to pull René into a hug and never let him go again, but he knew better than to grab him without his consent. He took the professed rose and opened his arms. René shuffled closer, fisted Nicolas’ vest and hid his face in his chest. Slowly, carefully Nicolas completed the embrace. He took off his friend’s hat, set it and the rose aside and gently ran his fingers through his hair. René was trembling from head to toe – Nicolas could only imagine how much courage it must have taken him to go through with this plan. This courage evidently carried him to this point and no further. He looked ready to collapse on the spot. Nicolas held him tighter and began to rock him slowly, continuing to pet his hair.

They stood there for a long while, locked together in an embrace, gently swaying from side to side. Nicolas nuzzled René’s hair. The heart fluttering against his chest started to calm down a bit. Eventually René snuggled against him and spoke up.

‘I’m sorry about the first bouquet.’

‘Don’t be. I think it was beautiful, artificially assigned meanings be damned.’

René giggled and pulled back just enough to be able to rub the back of his neck. Not daring to initiate any other contact just yet, Nicolas quickly nuzzled his nose. René took a deep, shaky breath, latched on to Nicolas’ lapels and pecked him on the lips. Before Nicolas could react he ducked his head again.

Still carefully, as to not scare him away, Nicolas slid a finger under his chin. René allowed this and obediently tilted his head up at Nicolas’ gentle push. Emboldened, Nicolas cupped his cheeks and pressed their foreheads together. After a small pause he tilted his head to the side and kissed him. René’s lips were velvety soft and a little wet – he was clumsily pushing back against Nicolas, evidently unsure of what he was supposed to do. Nicolas slid his hands down onto his shoulders and moved on to kiss a line along his smooth cheeks and jaw. They broke apart, stepped back a bit – and dissolved in a fit of nervous giggles. Nicolas tried to stop but the laughter only intensified, relieved and yet slightly hysterical. Face burning, stomach flipping, Nicolas wiped at his wet eyes and swept René back into a tight embrace. René flung himself into his arms without hesitation. Nicolas smacked one more big, sloppy kiss on his cheek.

‘Sweet René’ he murmured ‘My sweet René.’

  *un chien = a dog

[neotericbitch]

a sequel to DarqAnon

part the first

It’s quite abusive, there I said it, how you’re allowed to force a ritual onto a child, whether it be reciting an anthem or staring at the sun, before their brain has developed enough to comprehend the significance. In fact, doing so makes it more likely that as the child grows up, they will never truly find meaning in the action! How sad is that? I’d never force anything on my son.

Growing up, staring into the sun was something I never understood. For a long time I didn’t, I couldn’t conceive of the satisfaction or happiness my family derived from it. It meant something to them, so they tried to teach it to me, but it never meant anything to me. I understood that the sun was their god, but because I never truly believed, I couldn’t grasp how or why it would be important to them to stare up at it, burning their eyeballs out of their sockets. Their god was sending a clear message, do not look at me. Why would they do it anyway?

Oh, but - do keep in mind that that’s all in the past. I understand now. I understand perfectly.

Valkyrie Cain has the most brilliant black eyes. Truly, her every feature is marvellous, her sharp nose, her expressive mouth - but I always go back to the eyes. For Crandall, it’s her hands. They’ve shared many times over many meetings, to the point where I find it very annoying, that they want nothing more than to feel her hands on the sides of their head before she crushes it. I think it’s a nice little fantasy to have, just stop telling us about it. I have only ever shared what I wanted two, maybe three times. That’s an acceptable amount of times! Any more is overdoing it, Crandall! Crandall, I know you’re listening. I’ve been able to feel it even when a very good Sensitive is in my head, Crandall, and you are not a very good Sensitive.

Beside me they turn their head away. Why would they want to listen to my thoughts, anyway, when Valkyrie is here? I suppose I understand their hesitance. Darquesse, goodness - Darquesse wouldn’t stand for anyone hearing her thoughts, absolutely not! To attempt it on her would be a high offence. But Crandall, if you’re still listening, I’d say go ahead for the time being. Darquesse isn’t here. Not yet.

Looking at her, it all makes sense. I want to call up my mother and tell her I understand, I understand wanting - needing! - to look at something, even if it does not want you to. The sun may try to blind you. Valkyrie may glare and scream and curse. But you simply cannot look away.

I cannot call up my mother, of course. She has been dead for a hundred years, and I’m busy right now - and I don’t think there’s mobile phone reception here anyway.

For this week’s Thursday meeting, 6 to 7:30, we have made a temporary move from the community hall to the vault, generously donated for DA’s use by Nicki, who we had to murder. Dear girl, she didn’t want to let me hold the meeting here this week. I suggested it at the end of last week’s meeting and everyone was very excited. A hundred meters beneath the spot where Darquesse opened her portal to another dimension and disappeared - we’re so lucky to have this place! Of course everyone wants to come here whenever we have the opportunity! But Nicki said no. Nicki said to me, “Isserley, these meetings have been really great, you are a good organiser and I’m very happy to have met everyone, but I think what you’re planning is wrong. Please return the vault key to me.” So we had to kill her.

And here we are tonight, and I almost wish Nicki were here so I could say, to think you didn’t want this! The meeting is going very well, I think it’s our best one yet. 6:40 and we’re just about to finish setting up, we’re a neat little group of people. We won’t go over time at all! I’d like to say that I, being an incredibly organised person, have been a good influence on my fellow DA-goers.

Salma finishes painting the symbol on the ground. Her designs are ugly, but she has a steady hand and knows how best to use the petrol paste, a very special concoction. No one else could have done this job - though I must admit, I am a bit envious. Easy, Isserley! Remember, your job is the most important. Without you, this wouldn’t work. Without you, Valkyrie would not even be here.

Salma reaches for Valkyrie. She thrashes wildly - and I can’t say I blame her! I wouldn’t want Salma to touch me, either! Haha. But it really won’t do for her to behave this way, we really need her complete cooperation, so I motion to Respite at the wall and he turns the crank, tightening the chains attached to the bound cuffs at her every limb. She is pulled tight, and by the sounds of it it’s not a very comfortable experience, but now she is tense and mostly still - perfect for Salma to draw the symbol on her wrists and stomach.

She puts up a hell of a fight when Respite disconnects the chains from the wall and reconnects them to the floor, at each corner of where the symbol has been painted so she is now seated in the centre. I can’t help but smile! She reminds me of one of those beautiful shrine maidens. If only I’d thought of that earlier. I would have put this off one more week and gotten an outfit made. But the clothes she put on herself this morning are more than lovely. Darquesse will like them. Darquesse will like being back.

Valkyrie keeps straining and trying to get up, the poor dear! I wish I could go over there and pat her face, like I used to pat my son’s when he was resisting me - I wish I could tell her everything will be alright. But I know, even chained and without magic, she could certainly find a way to kill me if I were within reach. And I don’t want her to kill me until the ritual is complete, of course! Otherwise what would be the point?

“I don’t even know,” Valkyrie growls - what a good word for it! Indeed, she is doing her very best to sound deep, dark and scary. Soon it will come naturally. “I don’t even know what you think this will do. It’s not a full moon, or a blood moon, or any kind of moon. It’s not a magical day, it’s not a holiday, it’s not even a day that means anything to me.”

It’s my birthday, but don’t tell anyone that. It’s my special little secret, my gift to myself.

“This sigil is totally made-up. It’s not going to do anything.” She tries to raise her hand to her face to wipe off some sweat, but the chain is too short. “Let me go and I’ll make it quick - because when Skulduggery gets here, he certainly fucking won’t.”

I crouch down to be on her level, and I’m filled with such...reverence. I understand. I understand. This is what I was supposed to feel kneeling in the sweltering heat for hours on end. I’m glad I feel it here instead.

“You will kill us,” I say. “But we’re not going to uncuff you, you’ll do that yourself.”

“What are you talking about?” She is so exasperated and so irritated and so wonderful. “These cuffs are bound. It doesn’t matter how great you think I am, I’m not that strong.”

“You will be! You will be.” In the corner of my vision I see Salma fidgeting. Salma!!! You’re ruining this!! To make her stop, I gesture at her so she can speak and stop annoying everyone with her movements.

“The sigil you’re sitting on,” she fires off in her horrible, grating voice, “and the sigils that are on you are my own designs. Just because you haven’t seen them before doesn’t mean they won’t work. They’ll work.” Her lip trembles and she bows her head. “I’m sorry you don’t...believe in me.”

Valkyrie stares for a moment. “You’re completely nuts.” Nuts! Aah! That’s the word I use to describe her! How exciting!

“They’ll work, I swear. I promise. We only need to activate them, and...” Salma looks to me. Unfortunately, I have to stand up now and go back to looking down on Valkyrie. It’s okay, though. It’s okay. Soon she’ll be looking down on me.

For now, she doesn’t look at me at all. She looks down at where she’s put her arms on her knees, wrists facing out. Perhaps Supreme Mage Sorrows once gave her a lesson on what certain strokes can mean, perhaps she’s trying to work out how to counteract our symbol.

She’s fabulous and smart, yes, but she won’t be able to work it out. I am confident. I snap my fingers, summoning a bright, orange flame into my hand. She lifts her head, looks me directly in the eye, and I smile widely. Very widely. Not widely enough. I hope, before Darquesse kills me, she at least takes the time to appreciate what I’m doing for her. I hope she recognises how much I love her. No - I don’t hope. I know. She will. She must.

I take a step forward and crouch again, reaching my hand out to the edge of the symbol on the ground. My flame will catch onto the petrol paste and spread immediately. Valkyrie will be burned, but only a little bit! Just a little bit. Long enough for the fire to catch the symbols on her skin, and she will be protected - and Darquesse will be summoned back into her. She will be complete again.

Before my flame touches the paste, Valkyrie shoots her hand out and smudges the line, which gives me just about the fright of my life! Thank goodness I have such incredible reflexes, otherwise I wouldn’t have jerked my hand away in time. The paste would have caught on fire and surely burned her to death! She rubs her wrists together, wiping away the symbols written there, then kicks her legs out from under her so she’s in a more traditional butt-to-ground position, but that means she’s made the ground symbol worse and displaced dirt into my face.

It’s hard to love her when she has literally blinded me. That whole thing about the sun and everything, it was more of a metaphor. I still love her of course! I’m only taken aback. Anything I may say as I fall backwards isn’t really my fault, since she’s the one who kicked dirt in my eyes. It's more of my reflexes. I never would say anything of the sort to her under normal circumstances. Never.

“You bitch!”

What an inconvenience. I don’t get to see any of what happens next! I only hear the door flying open and gunshots, the sounds of my people yelling and trying to fight. Punches, kicks, bodies falling to the ground. When I hear Salma scream and feel her blood land on my face, I can’t help it! I can’t help it but think, serves you right for putting a cent in the collection tray every week!

“Skulduggery, the-”

“Valkyrie. Are you alright?” Is that him getting on his knees? Maybe he understands after all. “Are you hurt?”

“My skin’s burning, let me loose so I can get this shit off me. The crank on the wall, I think that controls the cuffs.”

I roll onto my side and wipe the dirt from my eyes. I hear Pleasant at the wall, turning the crank back and hitting the release. It’s terribly uncomfortable, but I can open my eyes and see well enough - and what I see is Crandall dead next to me! It’s such a shock, my heart skips at least three beats. That rotten Pleasant. What a barbarian. I lift my head as carefully as I can, so I won’t be noticed. Valkyrie has lifted her shirt to get the symbol off her stomach and cannot see me.

This is so unfair. I put so much work into this plan. It was so hard to trap her! I was going to bring Darquesse back. Me. Not Crandall, not Salma. Not Nicki. Her black eyes would have bored into my skull and killed me and I would have been good and happy. Huh! Maybe I'm not too different to those Faceless worshippers who go blowing themselves up in public places.

“Isserley. I thought that was you.” Pleasant. Pleasant is talking to me. “How have you been?”

Valkyrie snaps her head up at him. “You know her?”

“We’ve seen her in the High Sanctuary.”

“Jesus. Is there anyone you don’t remember.”

“No.” He reaches out and wipes the rest of the symbol off her stomach in one motion. I have dirt in my eyes but I see how her tummy kind of curls in a bit as she drops her shirt down.

That should be me. That should be me. I love her more than anyone. I burst into tears.

“She tried to set me on fire.”

“I think a list of people who haven’t tried to set you on fire would be shorter than a list of those who have.” I hear the clink of handcuffs. “Come on, now, Isserley.”

I let my head drop back onto the ground and stare up at the ceiling. I do not take one more look at Valkyrie. I’m not worthy. I’m not worthy. I failed. “Why don’t you just kill me.” I’m not even aware of myself saying it, to be honest! Just one of those things that...slips out...

“She makes a good point, Skulduggery.”

“Can’t be done. We should leave at least one cultist alive to arrest, so why not take the woman in charge?”

“How do you know she’s the one in charge?”

His terrible skull fills my vision as he looks down at me. You know, hearing him talk this much at one time has jogged my memory. And he does happen to wear very beautiful suits. My mouth falls open. “You’re-”

Valkyrie was startled for a moment by the sudden gunshot. Shoulders tensed, she looked over to Skulduggery standing over the woman, gun still pointed into a face that didn’t really exist anymore.

“What made you change your mind?” she asked as he put the revolver away. Skulduggery came over to her and brushed some hair out of her face, went back to fussing over the injuries she sustained on her way here.

“Too talkative,” he said, and she laughed and teased him about being a hypocrite.

[bronzeflower]

Who The Fuck Writes A Ten-Page Rant?????

Chapter 12: Two Future Visits???

Also on ao3

-- apocalypseArisen [AA] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] --

AA: dave!!! AA: youll never guess what just happened!!!

TG: yo ara lay it on me TG: if you say ill never guess then i guess ill never guess but youve piqued my curiosity here and ive absolutely got to know what you want to tell me TG: although presumably youre going to tell me regardless of whether or not i actually guess

AA: you would be correct

TG: ara im dying TG: i need to know this sweet ass thing that just happened TG: i might die if i dont find out soon TG: there i go TG: on my deathbed TG: struggling for breath and doing my goddamn best to make words come out of my mouth TG: and you of all people know exactly how much i talk TG: holy shit that last moment at my death i can barely speak TG: but i manage it just enough to say my last words TG: put a whoopie cushion on dirks seat at my funeral TG: everyones in tears TG: the most perfect last words

AA: alright! ill tell you!!! AA: sollux proposed to me!!!

TG: holy shit!!! TG: thats fantastic!!!! TG: what do people do when someone proposes TG: do we celebrate TG: should we celebrate TG: that certainly seems like something worth celebrating TG: should we have a party TG: just TG: holy fuck TG: when did he propose how did he propose TG: lay all the deets on me

AA: so remember when i told you he had something he was working on that he couldnt show me because it was a surprise for me AA: it turns out that it was a video game AA: it was really cute and sweet and it was a game about finding fossils AA: it was at the very end when the fossils spelled out will you marry me AA: and thats how sollux proposed to me!

TG: thats absolutely adorable oh my god TG: i dont think i can handle this cuteness TG: satisfaction may have brought me back the the cuteness killed me again

AA: dave! AA: you cant die yet!

TG: well i wasnt planning on dying quite yet because i still have shit to do TG: and if i died i would start wandering the world as a ghost because i had unfinished business TG: youll have to burn my body TG: or put it in a museum TG: that would be kick ass TG: thats where i want my bones to be when i die TG: ill make a museum and then all the little kids will be able to see the creators bones scattered about in a glass case TG: it will even have my shades on my skull TG: and the kids will go TG: woah thats one sick ass skull what a cool dude

AA: the coolest AA: but i wanted to tell you that im coming into town for the wedding! AA: im going to take some time off of work so that i can have a proper wedding with all my friends and stuff

TG: !!!! TG: holy shit!!!!! TG: what are we going to die i have no idea TG: i just i havent seen you in person in so fucking long TG: oh my god TG: aradia im so excited holy shit!!!!

AA: im also very excited!!! AA: however the wedding is going to take a while to plan and i will still be working during that time so im not coming for a few months AA: i just wanted to tell you that i will be there eventually

TG: i honestly cant wait

AA: i cant wait either AA: i do have to go now AA: afterall my work is never done AA: i will troll you when i have some free time <>

TG: sounds great <>

-- apocalypseArisen [AA] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] --

You wonder who you gush to first about the news.

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] --

TG: rose rose rose rose rose rose rose TG: guess what

TT: Did you perhaps learn how to use punctuation?

TG: no and your girlfriend didnt either

TT: That’s cold, Dave. That’s really cold. TT: But, please, do tell this secret that you have been withholding from me for so long.

TG: aras gettin married to sollux!!!! TG: isnt that fucking some fucking fantastic shit TG: like holy shit my moirail is getting married

TT: Your moirail?

TG: its a recent development TG: anyway shes getting married and shes coming to town in a few months and rose TG: rose TG: im so fucking excited rose like holy shit TG: i havent seen ara in ages and now shes getting married TG: im just so fucking happy for her

TT: I’m happy for her as well. TT: Please, tell her congratulations for me. TT: Who’s she getting married to?

TG: shes getting married to her boyfriend of like five years i think TG: i know theyve been dating for a while but i dont really know exactly how long who knows TG: but his name is sollux and i dont really know much about him outside what aras told me but he seems like a pretty cool dude TG: and i trust her judgement anyways

TT: Be sure to give her my congratulations.

TG: ill be sure to do that TG: now if youll excuse me im gonna tell literally everyone about this

-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] --

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] --

TG: jade youll never guess

GG: im going to take a wild guess and say that someones getting married!

TG: holy shit i guess you did guess TG: never mind then

GG: no! GG: dont go! GG: i dont know the details yet!

TG: well if you insist TG: shes getting married to sollux who ive never actually met but he seems like a pretty cool dude from what ive heard from him TG: and shes coming to town in the next few months after planning the wedding and finishing up the job she has right now TG: and so well get to see her!!!! TG: jade ill get to see aradia!!! TG: holy shit you might actually become friends!!!

GG: !!!! GG: i cant wait!!!!!!

TG: anyway ive got to relay the news to john now TG: hes the last to know

GG: i wont spoil the surprise for him GG: but if you wait to too long rose might!

TG: oh shit youre absolutely right TG: i gots to go TG: be sure to tell me about those cars youre working on later k cause they seem cool as shit

GG: will do!

-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] --

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --

TG: john TG: john TG: john TG: hey there johnny boy

EB: i’ll listen to whatever you have to say, dave, but you have to promise to never call me “johnny boy” ever again.

TG: alright alright i promise TG: but i also promise that what im going to tell you is going to blow your fucking mind

EB: try me.

TG: aras getting married!!!

EB: what! EB: holy shit, dude! EB: god, i haven’t even talked to her in such a long time. EB: and now i’m hearing that she’s getting married? EB: just, wow.

TG: yeah i know right TG: shits groovy

EB: did you really just use the word “groovy” in a completely unironic context, dave?

TG: yes TG: ive moved passed liking things ironically egbert TG: you got to enjoy things as they come and let no one shame you for liking them

EB: that’s some solid advice, my dude

TG: anytime

-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --

Welp, you’ve messaged your main best friends about the wedding, and you’ve mostly got the excitement out of your system, at least until Aradia gives you more details about the planning of her wedding, and you're also going to assume that Aradia is going to message her other friends about the wedding.

Might as well do some work, and, by that, you mean it’s time to review some stuff that you may or may not have been procrastinating reviewing. But it’s time to take action! Make yourself a better person and stuff like that. One destruction of the thing you’re supposed to be doing at a time.

“Now, everyone wants to know how well these nail polishes work, and I am clearly the person to go to if you want to know about nail polishes because I paint my nails all the time, which you would see if you’ve watched my other videos.”

You make a mental note to put photos of your clearly not painted nails over the screen during the editing process.

You first start out doing what you always do in your videos, which is describe the object you’re reviewing in great detail.

“Okay, so this nail polish is kind of liquidy, like all nail polishes I’ve seen are, and this one that I’m holding is a blue one. Like, a blue that’s one of the prettiest blues you’ve ever seen, like the feeling when it’s slightly rainy outside, and you’ve got all your work done, so you’re just sitting there, listening to the soft rain, holding your favorite warm beverage and a feeling of calm washes over you, and everything is okay. You know. Like that.”

You turn the nail polish bottle around to see what else you could describe.

“There also seems to be bits of glitter hanging around in there. They look silvery like the sound of rain. Or the sound of a coin clanking against the ground. Mmmm, no, that would be a gold color, so let’s stick with the sound of rain.”

You then describe the bottle the nail polish is in, including what the font looks like and the color of the lid (white).

“I do have these other colors that came in the set, so I have a total of five. One for each finger. All of them have the same silver glitter as the blue one so that you know that they are from the same set or brand or whatever.

“The other colors are green, red, pink, and orange. Honestly, they could have gone for the complete rainbow, but they didn’t because they’re cowards. Where’s my yellow? My purple? With the colors they gave me, I can’t do the full gay rainbow. How are people supposed to know how bi I am without purple?

“Anyway, let’s get to describing each of these colors. This green- like a grassy meadow. It’s the smell of flowers, but then you sneeze because you’re allergic to pollen.” You pick up the green polish and hold it up so the viewers could see it. Then you put down the green polish to pick up the red one.

“The red is firey, and it’s probably my favorite out of these colors. It looks like someone shouting encouraging words at you but in an aggressive way, so you’re not really sure if they’re insulting you or not. Spoilers, they’re insulting you while telling you how much they love you because they can’t let anybody know they’re emotionally vulnerable.”

You then pick up the pink nail polish.

“And the pink- prettiest fucking pink you’ll ever see. Like a song that makes your heart thump and burn from thinking about the one you love, you know? Kind of also makes me think of cookies. Like, sugar cookies, especially the ones shaped like hearts. It’s a very lovey-dovey sort of color.”

And then, at long last, you pick up the orange polish and gazed at it.

“And, finally, we have this orange polish. Now, it looks exactly like an orange smells like. Or like salty orange juice. Why would you put salt in your orange juice? A prank? That’s the only conceivable reason I can think of, but I’m not here to judge people for their eating or drinking habits. But, now that we’ve looked carefully at all these polishes, it’s time to actually get to the painting part.”

You open the orange polish because you were already holding it, and you examine the consistency of the nail polish.

“Yep, that’s nail polish alright. Let’s put that shit on our nails and see what happens.”

You proceed to messily paint your nails. There’s nail polish everywhere. You somehow get nail polish on your face. You have no idea what happened. You look later- there’s nail polish on your foot. You don’t know how it got there.

You do, in fact, manage to paint all your nails, however messy the end result ended up being, so you are proud of yourself for managing to do that much.

After recording the video and making sure you actually recorded all that, you uploaded the footage and decided to edit it later.

After an hour or so of scrolling through mindless memes, you get a message on pesterchum.

-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --

TG: guess who the FUCK is comign to town next week TG: *coming TG: that’s right TG: me TG: ur fav sis

TG: oh shit this is fantastic TG: dont tell rose that youre my favorite sister though TG: i would never hear the end of it

TG: ur secret is safe with me TG: *wonk* TG: anyway TG: i was just here to tell you that. TG: dont be a stranger

-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --

Holy fucking shit. You can’t believe you got news of some of your favorite people coming to visit in the same day. Granted, they weren’t arriving in the same time period, but still.

You can’t believe Roxy is coming next week!! You are so ready to spend time with Roxy. It’s going to be a blast.

[calpalirwin]

I'll punch her for you

My mom pulls the, BUT YOULL WANT KIDS LATER shit. And im just like. No. No i wont. Because im not a parent material.

And then she goes: Whos going to take care of me when im old?

And its just like. Maybe you should have thought about that before you made your daughters scared to be in the same house as you???

But real talk. I am sorry. That is so streasful and just like. Not something to be doing publicly because that's personal family stuff. I hope you have ice cream or ashton fantasies to hug you

😂 the annoying irony is that when I told my mom last year that I pumped the brakes she was all “oh yeah! Of course! You have to do what’s best for you.” Like... wOMAN I SWEAR TO GOD!

And like, I want to be a mom. I always have. But there’s something about people going “well?” with that hopeful ass look everyone gets that makes me not want to do it? Like out of spite/for shock value. Just a “heh, yeah, I’m not having kids. Thought you knew?” Like I never would. But just to get that moment of smug satisfaction of watching them fumble for the right words would be SO WORTH IT sometimes I think.

Honestly, props to you for knowing that. I had a friend who didn’t want kids, panicked her entire pregnancy, and now totally rocks the parenting game and wants to give her daughter a sibling sometime soon. And I have another friend who always wanted kids and she makes the rest of us watch in silent horror like omg... Some people just aren’t meant to be parents. And that’s FINE! In fact, the BEST kinda of people to NOT be parents, are those who DON’T WANT TO BE. And it’s something I wish people A.) understood more and B.) didn’t put stupid pressure on.

Like babies and drinking are my 2 big things that you just don’t ask about. You don’t ask people when they’re having kids and you don’t why they don’t drink.

Like I’m sure my mother (and hopefully yours too) mean well. But the tactlessness of it all is enough to make my head spin.

And I actually ate a Crunch bar, and am finishing a Ashton fic that has nothing to do with babies, so I’m yanking myself out of this funk. Thanks for checking on me. You’re awesome. Much love!

[voidselfshipp]

Jerico looked around at the horizon from the tallest mountains of bilgewater.

The placed reeked with corrupted, rich powerfull men, of course, as tradition had it, most of them would be back to the lowest of levels in a day or two, hussling on the slaughter docks, or the Next inpending-doom voyage.

Mercenaries, criminals and most wanted walked among the place with weapons near at hand.

Most would say this isnt a place for a shapeshifter like her.

Jerico finished sketching on her travel Journal that never seemed to end,she hasnt been here in a good centurie or so.

Young as ever, at least physically, her eyes looked around taking in the moment, she smiled, and closed her book.

Her eat twitches at the sound of an explosion near the docks.

Always the look out for some good trouble, her body changes and just like a lizard she sticks to the damp mountain sides, scurrying around at inmense speed with complains behind her as she moves.

She jumps from a rock to another, from a boulder to the Next, she lands on the docks behind some crates.

Huh, funny, those two hiding from some other mercenaries are the famous (well, infamous) Graves and Twisted Fate.

Jerico chuckled to herself, her reptile eyes catch a glimpse of what the two scoundrels she just saw are trying to get.

Its some sort of heirloom, very expensive, seemed to be fished out of the belly of a water serpent.

-- we would've got it if it was for your antics!!-- whisper screamed twisted fate.

--i had 'em!--protested graves, putting down his gun-- but ya had to do your fancy card tricks!

The pair kept arguing absolutely unaware of the shapeshifter who rolled her eyes. Though, she wouldnt mind to get herself in some trouble, specially with those two handsome scoundrels before her.

She shapeshifts into a tiny lizard, that quickly sneaks her way to the hairloom, running like crazy back to the crates.

She de-transforms hanging from the stone wall.

-- you looking for this, fellas?--She hands them the heirloom.

Twisted fate and Graves look at her, the latters cigar falls from his mouth.

--howd...howd ya got this? -- asked Fate.

-- a shapeshifter never reveals her tricks, but-uh I suggest we Run-- she points at the dangerous mercenaries after them.

-- couldnt ya tell Us first?!--shouted graves.

Jerico plopped down from the wall and takes both of their hands-- whats a bit of mischief without a chase! Come on! Or we Will be sea monster lunch!

She runs with them close behind, both of them gripping the shapeshifters hand like their lives depended on it, cause well, it did.

The people shout and scream as they ran by, jerico was extremely small, nimble and thin,she sped till they were both found at the edge of a cliff with a very low- low tide, with sharp rocks poking from the seafoam.

-- nowhere to run now!

--You sure?-- askes jerico taking a step back, a smal rock falling to the sea.

-- what in the hell are you doing?!-- asked fate.

--Look at see bilgewater boy-- answered the shapeshifter leaning back. Seemingly falling off said cliff.

--your little friend just threw herself off of that cliff! Youll join her soon enough

--uh fate?-- hesitated graves.

-- not now graves!

Graves insisted-- fate..we uh we should jump-- he suggested looking down said cliff.

-- are you crazy?!-- fate looked at his friend, who signals down with his eyes.

The mercenaries after them freak out, and finally both look behind them.

A huge dragon hovered just at the cliffs edge, with anger in her eyes.

--looks like thats our way outta here-- said graves jumping on the creatures back with his friend soon following.

The mercs have a moment of hesitation before shooting at the trio.

TF ducks down an arrow and tips his hat as the dragon flies away-- sEE YA LATER FELLAS!

graves laughs shooting back to give them some cover-- goodbye losers!

Fate starts to laugh, either out of Fear or genuine satisfaction, maybe disbelief.

They fly to a small house just carved on the side of a mountain with a bridge to the civilization.

Both jump on the "yards" (more of whatever piece of land stuck out from the mountain side) and the dragon de transformed into jerico.

-- w wait what?!-- asks graves.

-- shes a shapeshifter you idiot!-- shouted TF.

-- I know that dumbass!-- exclaimed back graves.

Then both turn to their savior, finally recognizing her Beauty and doing what they do best, other than getting in trouble, flirt.

-- I wouldnt mind being saved by you again...~ -- flirted TF.

-- and I wouldnt mind taking you out for dinner either, as to pay my gratitude, of course~

Jerico rolls her eyes internally grasping her backpack--talking about dinner, you guys hungy? I know I am -- she opens the door-- after Yall

Both men stand there for some seconds, dumbfoded, seeing as their flirting did not do anything. But they enter nonetheless.

The house is incredibly cozy, a fireplace, a little kitchen area, an upper floor with a bed and a huge Windows panning out to the sea.

Jer closed the door behind her and left her bag on the couch, going to Cook some lunch.

-- nice house ya got here missy-- TF takes off his hat and coat sitting on the sofa.

-- thanks, the owners lent it to me, I saved her grandmother some years back, I was a bit younger then -- said jeri planning to do a nice homecooked meal.

-- how uh, how old are ya?-- asked graves, leaving his gun against the wall taking off his cloak and plopping down with his friend, absolutely smashed and the adrenaline wearing off of them.

-- you dont ask a Lady her age!-- aded fate.

-- shut up tobias-- Warned graves.

The shapeshifter laughed-- thats okay, us shape shifters live a Long long time, our cells regenerate four times faster than humans. Im uh...not quite sure actually... , I lost count after a while, but im twenty by human standards, its easier to Keep track like that

Both men look at eachother with a mix of surprise, a buttload of confusion and a bit of rivarly.

-- anyway, foods ready, homecooked meals are good for the heart-- jerico puts down the food, and sits with the men on the coffe table.

-- this is amazing!-- exclaimed graves digging in his Plate-- how do you know this recipe?!, And can you write it down for me?!

--Ya can barely Cook...-- sassed his friend-- I bet after all these years youve learnt some good recipies

Jeri nodds-- yep, this is my fave, actually

Both men Keep eating like hungry dogs.

After lunch, they decide to stay the night since the men after them could still be around.

They got to know eachother better, between a lot of flirting, that is.

As sun sets jerico lays on her bed just against the windowpane, she looks at the horizon and the sun hiding under the sea.

-- here, I made ya some tea-- said graves, sitting down with her-- ya been awfully quiet...

Je chuckled looking at her drink-- well, thats usually how I am, thing is that if you stick around long enough, youll soon find the true me, im a quiet, nerd who has a thing for thrill seeking, I had a relatively calm life, I just like getting in trouble wheneve I can

Graves raises his brow-- well, I have to say, I like you either way, uh, Cheers

They both raise their cups and drink their tea. In silence.

-- whose that, the picture that you have in the corner of the livingroom?

-- those are my parents-- said jerico with a bit of nostalgia-- my dad, he was a Smart Man, very loving with his kids,he liked to repair stuff like carriages...my mom however, thats another story...

-- May I ask why?-- graves Gently sits closer putting a light hand on her knee.

-- my mom was uh, cold, sometimes, she held me to high standards. A lot. We Argued and fight, a lot.

She uh, she thought of me of an annoyance really, and when my shapeshifting abilites came out, it got worse, I was born of human parents.., one day my body just changed...and that seemed to be a deal breaker with her...

The Man softly sits by her and tucked her against his side, wrapping an arm around her as a tear falls down her cheek-- after she..she died I went away, to see the world she kept me away from

-- yknow , your mom missed out on one hell of a daughter-- smiled graves-- you helped us, two mercenaries, out of a sticky situation,thats not something people often do, specially in bilgewater, your heart is in the right place, kid, anyone who fails to see that doesnt deserve to anyway

Jeri sniffs drinking from her tea-- thank you, graves

-- malcom Will do -- he answered.

Tobías walks up the stairs, asking if Jers okay and telling her to take it easy, shapeshifting into big things take a lot of energy.

The men decided to Cook dinner that day. Causing as much hijinks as youd expect them to.

But the food was good. Very good.

The troubles resume as the hour to go to bed arrives.

-- theres only one bed, yknow?

-- I know-- jerico said plopping down-- we'll fit

-- WE'LL FIT?!--shouted both men at once.

-- yeah, unless you two wanna take the couch, it gives me a bad neck ache, and neither of you would fit either , not laying down at least

Both men let out a sigh and end up plopping down.

Imagine their surprise when they find out the shapeshifter is a natural heater. And more so when they realize they could use this as a chance of getting closer to her.

It didnt take long for both men to scoot closer.falling asleep with a grin from ear to ear.

The Next morning jerico woke up first, tangled around the two beefy men.

If it was for her,shed stay all day like that.

She had to wiggle and wrestle her way out of the mens grasp. And she sneaks to the kitchen.

Those two slept like logs.

It wasnt until the house smelled of food that they woke up,groggily walking down the stairs.

Graves went to the couch still waking up.

Tobías however, softly wraps an arm around jerico-- mornin'

-- morning, how did you two sleeping beauties slept?

-- if im honest that mightve been the best sleep I had in a while,hey uh, I couldnt help but overhear your conversation with malcom last night, I know what is like to be shunned out by people that you care about, to be left alone in this world, youre not alone, you got us now, and I cant Belive im saying this, but I agree with malcom, people who fail to see who you are, dont deserve you anyway, but uh dont tell him I agree with him, he wont let me leave it down --Jerico snorts-- here, let me help you with that

They Cook breakfast togheter, and after it, both men hung around a bit longer.

Its afternoon and Tobias is sitting on the ledge outside the house with a warm drink.

-- watcha doing cowboy?-- asked jerico sitting down with him.

-- thinkin'

--of what, May I ask?

Fate turns to her-- of you

Jeris cheeks go red, giggling and leaning on him.

The Man wraps an arm around her waist pulling her in for a soft, quick kiss.

--y'see sweetie, the reason me and graves aint leaving today is...well you,and I dont think we are living you any time soon

Jer put her hands agains his chest-- well, mr fate, I dont mind that at all-- she kisses him again,this time slower.

He smiles and hides his blush tipping his hat down.

She left him to ponder on some other matters and goes back inside. Where malcom is smugly leaning back in a chair.

-- fate got ya all hot n bothered huh?

-- oh you think youre a tough guy?

-- I am, missy, what about you?...

Jerico smirked. Quickly straddling graves to his Seat. She puts her hands on either side of his face with her hands gripping the backrest

-- just because I look innocent that doesnt mean I am , malcom

The Mans cheek run hot, he stutters until he just gives up, with a look that says " thats it, Im in love!".

And she kisses him, playfully with smile on her lips that turns the whole moment fluffier.

Malcom softly breaks the kiss-- id die for you-- he says lovestruck.

-- well I sure hope im not interruptin' anything --tobias smirked-- c'mon you too, theres more trouble to get into

Destiny,Fate, And love.

Cw: food, gun, abusive mother ment, suggestive jokes.

Ok to rb.

Summary: Twisted Fate and Graves fall for the shapeshifter who saved their asses.

A/n: ill reblog this with the fic bcs its a big boy and Tumblr cant handle it 🙃

[oncerpotter2018]

Death By The Lakeside: A Cherik Fanfiction (A Eden Lake AU)

@deeranger

Chapter 11

Charles tried his best to reach somewhere safe but this head was buzzing and this throat hurting but he mustn't give up for he made a promise to Erik.

"I'm coming baby" he whispered to himself as he ran in the same direction as they went before but reaching any help would be proven different. Hank's house was on the other side but Charles kept on going. Erik was still tied to the support beam, his face stained in bruises and his body and arms trapped in barb wire as he glanced at his captures.

"what are we going to do with the other one" said Emma who folded her arms tears still in her eyes.

"leave him, he'll come back, he'll come back for this shit but first..." Shw said as he walked forwards taking Erik by his chin, Erik tried to move but the pain increased as the spes dug deeper into his skin. Shaw smiled at his pain and without any thought he punched Erik in the face causing him to flinch,his head turning to one side. Erik wasn't going to cry for their satisfaction so he only groaned in pain again but he couldn't keep playing the game of not feeling the pain as Shaw took his arms up and down again swinging it harder each time and but the fifth or sixth punch Erik was too weak to moan, his face disfigured as blood dripped down his face, one eye began to swell and wounds opened when they weren't before.

He wished for Charles now, he couldn't take this pain but they never did. It was Azazel's turn next as he grinned to their victim and with a good swing he used his foot this time to strike Erik in the chest. Erik tried to moved but then wires were still there an soon his body began to grow in agony,he desperately wanted to leave, to be in his lovers arms but it was useless and escape was pointless. Emma room her turn off course and moved close to erik, smiled and kissed him on his mouth bitting hard causing his lip to bleed.

"no wonder why that Xavier guy loved you, you kiss good" she said before yanking the chain and bashing the back of Erik's head on the support beam. The pain was too much and he screamed high and loud as he prepared himself for the worst and it came before he even knew it. He was already bleeding, there were gahses that ran from his forehead down his his cheek, the wounds growing as they took their turnes to the same thing over and over again.

Erik tried to plead with them to help them understand but they weren't listening as they laughed and grinned like wild dogs preparing their next pray.

"please...please don't do this... I... I have children... Me and Charles... we...we need to...get h...home" cried Erik as he the tears fall from his face but Emma rolled her eyes, her lips curling but she didn't dare move. They drank from the beers they held in their hands as they ignored Erik, his tears burning the wounds on his face. He didn't know what to do and that's the problem but he was determined,he tried to free himself once more but the bound was too tight and so he gave up in the end.

"come on Charles" Erik thought his mind reaching out to his husband but the thought of him was painful too and he simply shook it off from his mind.

"what do we do with him next?" Asked Azazel who couldn't wait to get started on tormenting Erik again ask he cracked his knockles.

Shaw looked at their victim over his shoulders and smiled.

"wait, just wait Azazel my friend I've got a plan" he replied with more malice in his own voice than on Azazel.

"do you still have your knive with you?"he asked.

"yeah sure I do"

"good because the next part I think youll really enjoy"

And for once Azazel understood and they all laughed. They laughed and Erik doesnt know whats going on but soon enough his punishment goes far beyond a fist to his face.

[hbrldwslgtbi-blog]

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[fo-cus]

I'm actually serving as the primary investigator to research on this concept right now and I think some important things should be mentioned !

First, the psychologist who developed this concept was John Lee. He actually developed this typology as a method of conceptualizing love due to the variety of meanings and experiences it can represent to different people. His originally research surfaced circa 1973/1976 and has been a long time coming.

Second, there are actually 3 primary love styles and 3 secondary love styles (and technically 9 tertiary love styles although not enough evidence was found to fully separate them). The three primary are Eros, Ludus, and Storge:

Eros, like mentioned above, is representative of passionate love. Its highly sensual, emotional, and represents entirely consummate love (Sternbergs Love Theory). Its the combination of intimacy, passion, and commitment that everyone wants. Its associated with higher self esteem, less conflict, longer relationships, more security, and more satisfaction than any other love style.

Ludus, while it does take the form of casual relationships most often, is more so represented by game playing. Its usually characterized by a variety of partners and a lack of committment. And while some ludic lovers are just out to have fun, rest assured that this love style is manipulative and not always healthy. This loving style uses sex as a tool and its not uncommon for those with this style to outright refuse to discuss the relationship (so they can avoid the committment). Ludic love sees growing involvement as a threat to themselves. This loving style is negatively associated with well being, relationship satisfaction, and positively associated with insecurity.

Storge loving style is developed from a friendship foundation. Its slow burn but may never develop into the same amount of passion that eros does. Its compassionate love that stems from intimacy and committment but may never be all consuming. Sometimes this love is thought of as 'settling' for second best.

The secondary love styles, Pragma, Mania, and Agape, serve as different combinations of the previous three. None of these are particularly healthy.

Mania is a combination of Eros and Ludus. Its as strong emotionally as Eros but as manipulative as Ludus. Its obsessive, dependent, and possessive, dangerously so. Its the crazy girl love style. The boy who wont take no for an answer, thinks youre a possession, not a person, and tries to control who youre friends with due to their irrational jealously. This is not healthy love what so ever.

Pragma love style serves as a combination of Ludus and Storge. Its the calculated love which serves only to find a compatible mate. As mentioned above, its a check list. These are the people which marry for money, clothes, security and not for love, think those looking for sugar daddys. Its commitment (from Storge) but manipulative (Ludus) because theyre using you to get what they want. Theyll stay committed to you as long as you fulfill their desires and as soon as you dont theyre gone. While this love is still not extremely healthy, if two consenting individuals come to this agreement then its fine.

Lastly, Agape is a combination of Eros and Storge. Like mentioned about its selfless love, altruistic love. And well it sounds almost romantic above, I want to clarify that this love has a high potential to be unhealthy. Its thinking about your partner before yourself yes, but its so much so that those with this loving style are willing to let themselves suffer. Its emotionality from Eros and committment from Storge. But this love has ability to reach an unhealthy amount of committment. Its the thought that your partner can do no wrong and youll do anything for them. Its overlooking flaws and doing anything to please them. It can easily lead to emotionally abuse because theyll never be wrong and itll always be your fault. Theres a fine line with this loving style.

Thats all I have, I just wanted to add some of my thoughts and findings from my research!

love styles

use sun, moon, and Venus.

a psychologist created this concept of love styles that includes: agape, eros, storge, manic, ludic, and pragma. 

agape. being selfless in love. it is wanting to suffer before ever seeing your lover suffer. it is bending yourself and sacrificing for the sake of your partner. cancer and pisces.

eros. the passionate love. it needs physical intimacy and needs it quickly, it craves falling in love, and the rush of stereotypical romance. aries, taurus, leo, libra, scorpio

storge. friendship-based love. it is stability and common interests binding two people and love evolving from there. virgo, capricorn, aquarius

manic. possessive and dependent love. it is needing to know everything your partner is doing and needing them in order to feel happy, while willing to be everything for them. aries, taurus, cancer, leo, scorpio

ludic. casual love. it is love comes and goes and should be shared. it is not wanting to be tied down, wanting to have fun, and wanting to experience it with many people as possible. gemini and sagittarius 

pragma. practical love. it is check list love, love as a choice. it is if someone truly better comes along, i leave. taurus, virgo, libra, capricorn, aquarius